I have my writ from the Lord Mayor of Restov, granting me authority in the name of the regent of this Kingdom of Brevoy. I find it odd to swear an oath and pledge to serve a ruler that I have never looked in the eye, but I trust in the guidance of my Order. Should I find a great soul, I hope that she (or he) will keep this Truth in mind: the law binds us to obey, but the heart leads us to love the law. Whether Quah, Regent, Baron or whatever other title they may use, a ruler who seeks to secure the loyalty of others should always take care to be seen by those same people, for it is the only way to truly be known. The loyalty of affinity was ever strongest.
I have also met my fellow sworn companions on this quest. They are an odd bunch. Doubtless they would say the same about me, whether because of my size, coloration, or the behaviors required by my vows. As for whether they will be true Cousins, or merely Tshameks? Only time will tell.
As I find myself often saying lately, it has been over 50 years since I last saw a goblin. And now I have met one who would be my companion in arms. The small creature whimsically goes by the name of “Ce Me No.” I intend to keep both weather eyes on the little one, as the goblins have worked long and hard to acquire their reputation. Still, the fact that he has sworn himself in support of our charge suggests that he is atypical as goblins go. That said, he does have very light fingers, and is rather fascinated by fire. He also has that ironic and impractical skull shape for which goblins are infamous.
Also among my companions is a holy shaman of nature named Nishi. A “druid” as the locals insist on naming it. In theory, we two have similar perspectives. Hailing from the Mwangi Expanse, his people were likewise set upon by the power of the Chelish, with both of our peoples driven into the lands the colonizer deemed less desirable or hospitable. So too we are both outsiders among our own people. In as much as the good earth touched my birth in some way, it seems as though the underworld imprinted upon hers. I have not yet decided whether that is ominous or not. She claims to follow the teachings of Erastil, so I am loath to think the worst, but one can never be certain.
She also travels about with a lizard of considerable size (and considerably sized teeth and claws). I am uncertain whether “Dean” refers to the species, or whether she is sentimental enough to name it. She claims that it is still young, and apt to grow larger. She also claims that her will and its will are as one, and as such, the lizard will reliably fight for our cause. I shall wait and see. If the lizard proves itself a brave and capable ally, well and good. If not, I look forward to re-enacting a story of a legendary bestial archon who knew exactly how to wrestle such creatures when they proved incorrigible: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-f5iMDXvcA
My third and final companion is a relative local by the name of Morrigan. As she tells it, she is a minor Brevic noble of sorts, linked to a clan called Medvyed, one of the seven great “houses” of this land. Houses are somewhat like clans, but the fit is an awkward one. Of the outlanders I have met on this trip so far, she is the first I would consider fit to potentially play the role of a “great soul” in any sort of prophecy. She has grace and charm which might well make it easier for her to win the love of a country one individual at a time. She is also apparently born with magic in her blood. Mostly simple tricks so far, but one could see such power growing with time. Finally, she seems to have a combination of kindness and toughness of spirit – a sense of what is good, but a willingness to do what is “necessary.” With both the guidance of Falayna and the protection of one of the members of her sworn Order, such a sensibility might well make for an admirable Quah-leh.
It is rumored that our Brevic hosts may yet issue a fifth writ. If so, I will also try to get a sense of any additional companions who join us.
Tomorrow we will head west on for the Greenbelt, a journey of roughly 100 miles. On foot, it should take us roughly four days to reach a trading post named for someone called “Oleg.” This represents the central point on the northern boundary of our charter, stretching 60 miles to the south, and another 36 miles in both easterly and westerly directions. We are charged not only with exploring and mapping the area, but also with bringing order to it, by way of opposing banditry and other unlawful behavior we might encounter. Banditry in particular is called out as meriting a quick death by the rope or by the sword – certainly a quicker and kinder fate than such a crime would meet at the hands of my people.