[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 54 ----

The news this month is all favorable, and I am worried. What storm waits behind this lull?

The storm is here already, of course, gathering force; it seems to manifest itself literally in the late summer thunderstorms that I would swear have been following me around. While patrolling by the river yesterday, we were attacked by a small band of emaciated soldiers of R'lyeh, who kept taunting us about eating our braaaaains and sucking the blood from our veeeeeins. They were not lightning-resistant, however, and I had but to raise Tempest and watch them fall, crackling. But there are more, far more, that we shall have to face.

Todd received word that Rod was victorious, and has spent so much time waxing rhapsodic about the glories of his ancestral home that I've been avoiding him. He keeps cheerfully muttering nonsense, like "Now all that is left is for the final gathering at the Isle, where shall be determined who shall rule the world, or be damned to hell for all eternity..." and I can only take so much pseudo prophetic mumbo-jumbo before feeling ill. Fortunately, there are other matters to attend to. Our brave scout Celarim, a veteran from Alexander's army still skulking with the best of them, somehow persuaded a small village of Vanheim to join our side so that they would have some protection against the coming tide. Limmy also was persuasive enough that the count (the count's daughter) came over to our (his) side without fighting. In other words, the north is almost at peace, and with little bloodshed.

Maude sent word that the Mannish castle was manned only by a few longbowmen, without even a commander; mostly they were men too old or too young to have been at the slaughter of the regular armies. The citizens of the castle were so grateful that a real army of men had come to defend them that they threw down their arms and welcomed us in. Apparently, they were afraid they would all have their brains sucked out if the forces of R'lyeh had broken through instead.

I do not know much about the strange dwellers in the deep: once, long ago, I received a clam from them, though I have since mislaid it. On occasion we have made small diplomatic exchanges of gems or trinkets, though I never thought we would sink to Ulde's level and traffic in slaves. I know that the creatures of R'lyeh are deeply feared: in the presence of the high Starspawn, it is said, you cannot hear your own thoughts, and your mind burns at the sight of them. They are led by a strange being whose names sounds something like "Thuloo" or "Cuthloo", who eats his foe on the battlefield. Their armies are legion. They say the very oceans of the deep fight for them. In dark times, I wonder what can men do against such reckless hate.

And then I remember the strength of the wind, the grandeur of the stars, and the gathering storm.