Greyhawk Game Blog

Well, three days later, and we finally ran across another small town. We truly are in the nomad lands. Back home, you can’t travel a mile without running into some small cluster of dwellings that calls itself a town. Out here, so few dwellings interrupt the landscape that seeing one is actually cause for speculation. What can it be? Why is it there? I don’t understand how the people who live in these lands do it. They spend their lives astride a horse and never a permanent home do they have. I think the long empty space before us must be weighing heavily on my mind, for ever more often these days my thoughts turn to the crowded streets of Greyhawk. It will be some time yet before I see a proper city again, and long for the diversion.

I believe I have mentioned this before in this Journal, but I believe that this forum is not the place to record my personal life. Although I fully admit that I have not always adhered to my own personal policy, I will repeat it now, and make every attempt to exclude my personal relationship with Sergeant Shasivin to creep to obviously into these pages. I will record major events, as I would with any Company member, but will avoid making this my personal confessional. In other words, fear not. Read on. You won’t be embarrassed by unseemly admissions and lurid details of someone else’s affairs.

In any case, we are within a few hours of the river (I believe the Opicum is its name) that marks the true border with Iuz. At some time tomorrow, we will cross it and truly be in enemy territory. The camp is very quiet tonight, with everyone wresting their own personal demons. I will write no more. When next I take pen in hand, we will be in the enemy’s front yard.