The Dell, Western Wilds.

31st of Samue, The Month of Planting.

2139 years since the new gods came.

I was able to speak with an older man today about what happened to make the residents of Nortontia flee in such numbers. The story has chilled me to the bone. At least the monsters are afraid of the water.

- - -

Max sat on a stool in Irving's tent, as the older, balding man, coughed into a handkerchief. “So, we were finishing collecting the hogs that day.” Cough, “When the beasts suddenly went wild. Complete panic! They broke out of the pen, you've seen hog pens?” Max nodded. “Then you know how hard that is.” Irving coughed again, “We were trying to figure out what had happened, when this centipede thing scuttled across the clearing. Maybe a foot long? George stepped on it, it made a loud crunch, and he jumped back, screaming.”

Max listened with a growing sense of dread in his stomach.

“The things blood, or something, had gotten into his boot, and was burning him something fierce.” Irving almost collapsed with a full body wracking cough. “That's when I said to myself 'I'm outta here' and ran. I reached the village, just in time to see more of those things swarming over the buildings. I ain't afraid to admit I peed myself at the sight of them. I ran. We weren't that far from the coast, a few miles at most. I don't think I could run like that again.” His eyes were filling with tears, as another bought of coughing took him. “The things were there already. I ran again, barely catching my breath. The coastal path was empty, and I saw no birds anywhere as I ran. You could easily kick up one or two on that path.” Tears were running down his face now. “The first fisherman I got to, I threw my bag of coins to, and took his boat.” He started to sob. “I took his boat, and left him to die!”

Max stood up, patted the man on the shoulder, and cast a sleeping spell under his breath. Irving collapsed onto his cot, and Max tucked the man in. In a low voice he cursed, “Damned hells. This is bad.” and he walked to his next destination in the ever growing tent city.

- - -

32nd of Samue,

Irving's story has been recounted in many ways, but the basics are the same: Animals flee; People get some sort of chemical burn when they attack the things; people get eaten, or worse yet, get eggs implanted in them. I'm going to assume that the eggs hatch into more of the same monsters.

It sounds like blades don't work well against the large ones, but spears and blunt weapons do. If the stories can be believed, some of them are over 100' in length. That's the size of the old red dragon we killed. I hope these things can't breath fire.

35th of Samue,

The knights have reported a bandit raid. It went...poorly for the bandits. They had almost nothing of value, and what they did have was given to the village. It has been decided to station parts of the army in each village to give protection. Barracks are being started at each site post haste. The Kittens are the most inclined to search out the bandits on the roads. I wished them luck in their endeavors.

36th of Samue,

I found out today that the Kittens ride, not a horse, but a Hera. Universe damned creatures. I saw one birthed once after a demon got a horse pregnant. Tore it's way out of the mare. Poor girl. Apparently if you breed them 'properly' they make great war mounts. I'd rather not. It's no wonder the Kittens don't take prisoners.

The bandits are more stupid than I thought. They tried to ambush the Kittens. 20 bandits dead in seconds. 29 horses dead. 18 slaves...still alive?

41st of Samue,

It's being called “The Bandit War”. There are six groups of ten Kittens each, scouring the land within a hundred miles of the Dell. Thus far only three Kittens have gone down in battle, and that was only due to a magic wand of 'Flame Barrage'. They will recover fine, and are joking about their bad luck.

I will never look at cats the same way again.

I made the mistake of telling the wounded about Tom Cat. Now the bastard is showing up on their banners. Better than the picture of me that it replaces, but still...

- - -

Tom Cat, El Gato, Deposed king and ultimate ruler of the celestial realm and all that he surveys from the top of his tree of power, sat up. He looked around. Nothing had changed. EVERYTHING had changed. He felt stronger. Wiser. Smarter. He knew about over-population. Breeding for the better form. He stretched his slightly longer body, and smiled.

- - -

43rd of Samue,

We had a band of bandits come to the Dell today. They came under a flag of truce. We have a pile of treasure now. They claim they will only raid outside of 'my lands' now. They have only attempted to raid the Dell once. WTF?

Bandits. Meh.

46th of Samue,

People are recovering well. Well enough to start fights anyway. You really can't use an army to quell civil issues. It doesn't work well, and patrolling the tents with Knights isn't much better. I have asked a small favor of the Men of Repute, to take care of it. Maybe recruit some decent guard types? Ones I would approve of.

The Ratling fellow, Gargar, is an interesting fellow. He spends a lot of time with the bards, learning songs, and teaching them old hymns. I quite like him. And his tribal magic? Absolute magic! Not in the arcane sense.

49th of Samue,

Most of the issues in the tents seems to be cultural in origin. Different...sports teams? I've heard of religious wars and such, but this is ridiculous. I'm going to have to dig into this.

51st of Samue,

Not sports per-say. Just tangential. Apparently, they mostly worship the god of Ice and Snow. They do this by 'Ice Dancing'. On skates. At some point in the past there was a schism in the church about what dance was the 'Proper' dance. There was a fight using clubs. Blood was spilled. Then someone, a prophet apparently, directed them to compete in a sport on the ice to decide. Now each group fields a team to decide who is 'correct' once the ice is thick enough. Best ratio of wins to loses is the winner of the Holy Chalice, and leads the religion for the year. There was no game this year, so they are fighting. Religion is stupid.

- - -

“So you are telling me a man of 'Frost and Snow' came out of the ice, and directed the game the first time and laid down the rules?” Max asked. Brandywine was doing her best to not laugh.

“Exactly! Now every year we build a snowman to represent him at the final match.” The young acolyte proclaimed. “I'm glad you understand, Master. But now we are risking a new schism because there was no Stick match this year.”

“Then just use a ball and sticks on the ground, and deal with it.”

- - -

52nd of Samue,

We are having a 'Stick Ball' game to decide a religious conflic this next week or two. I don't understand these people. I really don't.

53rd of Samue,

I'm the head referee. WHAT IN THE EVER-LOVING HELLS!

54th of Samue,

High sticking in a thing. Concussions are a thing. Betting is running rampant. I stuck the Men in charge of betting, so no one gets cheated. At least the rules are simple: Don't kill anyone; Get the ball (a fist sized rock) in the net; Get the most 'nets' in an hour; 'Nut Shots' and head shots are illegal. Helmets, helmets would be good. There are women on the teams. To get in 'uniform', everyone changes on the field. I've never seen this much skin outside of a brothel, no wonder it's so popular.

55th of Samue,

Double compound fracture of the legs. First real injury of the games. Ouch. At least the healers are good at their jobs.

Construction of the permanent structures are at a standstill until the games are over.

I hate being in charge.