West Marches at the Board N Brew

Perry goes out into the woods, the Witchwood, with Doomlorde. He skulks along the eastern edge, scouting the pass between there and the Darkin Woods. It doesn't take long before he is moving like an animal, he is as a bear. He sheds his boots, his tunic, thoughtlessly. He feels the loam of the forest floor between his toes. He is home and the hearth fire is the fire that burns within him. He speaks with the animals, not only to seek the enemy, but to know them and the ways of the Witchwood. Soon, he moves and sings the song of the forest with the birds, the foxes, the leaves on the trees and the very spiders between the branches. He is in tune with each tree. He feels them. Each touch is a greeting, an acknowledgement of their kinship. He forgets that he is a man, and is he anymore? He is propelled as much by his hands across mighty roots as his feet across jagged stones. Where is his quarry? He seeks their position, breathes the air to catch their scent, the scent of un...

Peregrine, When you were born, you were smaller than any of your brothers had been before you. On your forty-second day, your grandmother held you and named you. She told me she had a vision and it must be so, so I named you Peregrine. All your life, you have focused on proving your worth. You were fierce and indefatigable. To you, every inch taller than you your brothers were was a mile further you had to climb. And yet, everything you accomplished you were so sure was just a glimpse of far more within you. The sword you left with your last letter is truly excellent. I think you know it is itself a worthy tithing from a chieftain's son, but you chose to leave it to me at the Place of Giving. It is a glimpse of far more within you. I have known for some time you would never tithe the clan. The sword is the sign that you now know it, too. On the day of your naming, your grandmother saw within you the Khatra Adonai, the displacing spirit, the singular soul. One bestowed wit...

Mother, As always, I strive to obey the Turning of the Wheel and honour our Clan and its ways. Tomorrow, at the Place of Giving, I will leave for you a sword and this letter. The sword bears the totem we share in relief on the crosspiece and etched along the blade. Its weight is perfect. It's edge unfailingly sharp. It is the sword I bore when I sought out Koth, the Wyrmlord, to gut him from Vraath Keep. It did not taste a single drop of his blood. Instead, when I leaped toward him to meet him in glorious battle, he invoked mystical energies to fly from me like overgrown poultry. He left me to face his underling, a minotaur, as, from on high, he rained down fire upon us. I was not alone. Bree, the Lucky, Val the Hunter, Barakas, Master of the Arcane, and Ranger Jor fought with me to win the keep, a tactical stronghold in our efforts to hold back the goblin tide that brims to overflowing from the Wyrmsmoke mountains. These companions filled Koth with arrows as I traded gou...

Adventurers of Tempered Vale, old and new, gather in the Stonehill Inn. They collect around the now-famous Stonehill Map like iron filings around a lodestone. They plot their alliances and excursions in search of power, knowledge, glory and riches. Perry O'dershed, unusually quiet until now, lifts his head to speak to them. His voice is low, but audible to those he addresses. His eyes move across the faces of the gathered. He leans in. At first, it seems he might be about to reveal a monumental score waiting to be plundered in the Dark Wood. Attend, friends. I will tell you what dangers loom, menacing Tempered Vale and Drellin's Ferry. By now, you have surely noticed the guard is more on edge than seems right. Guard Captain Sildar is taking pains not to alarm the whole of Tempered Vale, so he might appreciate your discretion among those who are not able to do more than disrupt the town with their panicking. Southwest, in the Wyrmsmoke mountains, a goblin horde assembl...

Mother, I still walk this side of The Wheel, and, in my heart, I know you do, too. I know the Clan thrives in my absence. The land is teeming with life and the signs of your work. I will arrive at the Place of Giving tonight. I will leave you this letter, a journal of my voyages and discoveries in the North, and the thighbone of one of my fallen enemies. I have decorated the bone with my Diurniad, in keeping with the ways of our people, that you may know I have not forgotten them. By your acceptance of my offering, I will know you have not forgotten me. I am preoccupied that I have not yet won a trophy worthy of tithing the Clan. My hands are calloused and soaked with blood, but I only win vile artifacts, baubles and trinkets. Did you know my peregrination would last so long when you named me? The reborn ruin we knew as Phandalin is now called "Tempered Vale." Those that toil in its rebirth, though oblivious of the fact, truly live in a golden age. The leaders are new an...

Who knows the course of the Turning of the Wheel? Is Conyberry being returned to the earth or is it being reborn from its own ashes? The town has been abandoned by its original citizens. Valuables have been abandoned in homes. There have been fires. Cloud giants have rained massive stones from the skies. Goblins roam the streets, looting the remains. The Wheel works to wash Conyberry away. But, even as Conyberry decays, the Turning of the Wheel plots its rebirth. There are agents of The Snail, the Zhentarim. They work to establish a position in his name at the keep in Conyberry. The keep was previously home to Lady Nander, dead now since before the stones rained down. I would not be surprised if this Snail spells the end of the unfettered freedom citizens of the Vale enjoy today. I believe the Zhentarim seek to impose a flavour of tyranny upon the west. I cannot yet be sure. Their foolish arrogance led them, a scouting party, to attack us and they paid for that with their blood...

This excerpt from the Peregrine Chronicles , as recovered and compiled by Vederuun the Collector, details the discovery of a necromantic artifact. Original author is unknown. The excerpt describes the services rendered to one Professor Winsome Landy in the Dark Wood. Particularly noteworthy is the depiction of undead and extensive magical ideation on the part of the author. Note, too, the superstitions of the author, projected through the protagonist. The author has no qualms, no shame, assigning the superstitiousness to Polaris' vanguard, too, the enlightened Magnanimous (may He be eleven times blessed). This excerpt follows the earliest account of Peregrine of the Watershed in combat , found in Valorton: An Extensive History by Erdique Boshaman. New, signed, leather-bound copies of his book are available in reputable stores about town. We continued into the Dark Wood for some hours before we reached the stone structure, Winsome's crypt, jutting from the earth and fl...

What follows is an excerpt from Valorton: An Extensive History by Erdique Boshaman featuring commentary on a portion of the Peregrine Chronicles . Originally compiled by Vederuun the Collector, the first depiction of combat in the Chronicles has been annotated by Boshaman with modern insights. While Boshaman does not propose that the Peregrine Chronicles are a valid historic record, his book, currently available in an attractive, leather-bound edition for your library in Valorton's stores of higher character, does propose why the Chronicles deserve academic attention. One of the earliest salvaged portions of the Chronicles describes a sortie into the so-called Dark Woods at the service of a Professor Winsome Landy. We met her at the Stonehill, anxious and trembling. The Professor Winsome Landy claimed that she had been summoned by her colleagues to help extract a discovery from an excavation, and to use a provided purse of gold to rally and bring assistants to aid with ...