24th Day of Garmensis

Hogar’s Journal (Translated from Giant)

Year 781 of the founding of the City

24th Day of Garmensis

The King’s Road – En-route to Winterhaven

Two decades away from this region leads one to forget the capricious nature of the weather.  It has been a long time since I’ve seen rain fall from a clear blue sky.  How it falls now.  When the Vicrael ask me to accompany me on this mission for the Praetorium I was reticent to return here.  It’s hard to imagine what it will be like returning to a homeland from which you fled in fear for your life so many years ago.  Now that I am back nostalgia and dread vie for supremacy amongst my emotions.  Even after so long the cold and the rain are somehow more familiar to me than the baking sun that pounds the streets of Nerath almost daily. 
But have I returned only to see the final destruction of this place?  If the rumours are true and the shadow of Orcus truly descends over this vale; then the death and destruction that my grandfather wrought here ninety years ago will be as nothing compared to the cataclysm that lies ahead.
Remnants of empire echo only faintly here, the shells of once great buildings line this Imperial highway, battered and torn down by the furious storms of Kord, piles of stone nestle in the bosom of the gently rolling grasslands.  In the distance the plains rise to form foothills overlooked by the sinister and brooding spectre of the Cairngorm Peaks, from this distance little more than a shadow over the horizon.  The ruinous touch of Grummush is still apparent in these lands, holding back the restorative influence of Erathis and preventing the return of civilisation even so many years after the defeat of my grandfather.
We make steady progress despite the poor condition of the road and the worsening weather.  Diefenbaker pads over the moor land.  Off into the distance and back again, sniffing for interesting scents and scouting ahead as a good hunt-wolf should.  Minron is his usual quiet self, as determined to see this through as I am, the tall minotaur strides out before us resplendent in his scarlet cloak and gleaming armour.   He has little use for words or actions that will not further us in our hunt for the Demon Prince.  This leaves Old Vic to make the conversation as usual, a position he relishes.  Our commander can go on for seemingly indefinite amounts of time about the exploits of his younger days.  Some people do not realise the benefits of quiet introspection.

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