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Journal of Willard, the Edron Munitionsman
Date: 14th day of the Crescent Moon, Year 734 of the Kingdom
Today I received in my modest shop a visitor like few I have seen in my life. A hooded man, dressed in worn royal robes and boots worn by the road. His name was Sir Bertraand the Royal Scout, I said. His gaze was somber, marked by something more than weariness... perhaps the weight of the horrors he had witnessed.
He came in search of ammunition for his crossbow - reinforced arrows, suitable for piercing armor or thick-leather monsters. While I weighed the pieces and prepared the leather bag, I offered him a hot coffee. He accepted with a slight nod, and slowly, between sips and sighs, he began to speak.
He told me of a cave in the north of Edron, where, according to his accounts, an entire nest of Dragon Lords hides. He said he smelled sulfur before he even saw the entrance... A dark omen for any living soul. A real danger, according to him, one that threatens us all if ignored.
But it didn't stop there.
He also shared rumors about a Cyclops camp that had recently arrived by sea. The ship docked on the northeast coast of Edron, and now the giants are setting up tents and makeshift towers. No one knows what they're after, but their presence is anything but peaceful.
The worst, however, was yet to come. Bertraand told me about his last mission, a reconnaissance mission in Fibula. There, in the depths of the cursed land, he saw with his own eyes the creatures we call Beholders. Floating monsters with eyes all over their bodies and arcane power coming from the depths of hell.
He found it strange, and rightly so. The true Gates of Hell are miles away, in Ab'Dendriel. What could these abominations be doing so far from their origin? He believes that something or someone is summoning them... or perhaps the gates are multiplying.
In closing, he mentioned ongoing investigations beneath the sands of the city of Darashia. An ancient catacomb has been discovered, no one knows who built it. Sir Bertraand said only that there are ancient symbols, voices in the walls... and the undead.
Night fell as he left, his silhouette disappearing into the mist. I felt a strange uneasiness in my chest.
If even half of what this man says is true... dark times are coming.
I will replenish my stockpile. And perhaps, for the first time, I will start saving some arrows for myself.
Diptrath
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