The Backwater Colony of Brinkland

The Little Town of Kvesht
The Consul's Coin

People join the militia for a lot of reasons. Most of them have to do with not starving. Some want to build a career, like the recent Consul Graccha. Most of them made their decision to join before Consul Tiber started his campaign against the wilds. Now your under equipped and under rationed group are at the edge of civilization fighting a war against the world itself. 

The militia have been given new orders. Last week you were to reinforce New Woods Watch. Now a small portion of you are to go into the New Wood and deep into the Overgrowth to scout out the lost town of Kvesht. Captin Galien thinks that something may be in there that's stealing fertility from the nearby towns. With one village completely barren and another starting to starve, he wants to throw as much as he can at the threat. And with the recent influx of boots and swords, he's got a lot more to throw. 

Your briefing is short. "March southeast," the captain drones in a weary monotone. "Find whatever is causing this blight and take report back. I don't care if you destroy it or take it with you, it doesn't matter to me. Just. Report. Back."

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The Cryptic Entry
A Foray into the Stater's Forest and Beyond

When you're in a tavern at Port Prodigal, nobody cares why you're there or how you got there. Why would they care? At the end of the world, trivial things like where you came from don't matter. 

The only thing that matters is survival. For some that means tending the fields, for some it's transporting the crops, for some it's defending the towns from the occasional beast coming out of the Forest. But for a few at this tavern, survival means a hefty purse of coin and the freedom to go as you please. So when you hear rumor of a stash of riches left by an ancient adventurer from the founding of Brinkland here (yes, here!) in the bowels of Rector's Peak, your ears perk up. From this day forward, you'll never forget the name you heard: Reslin Kine.

"Reslin Kine!," bellowed the aged dwarf several tables down. It was Uzfalt, the loudest drunk in the Hidden Clam. He was trying to sell some worn papers to a tired looking traveler. " Ya heard of 'im? Big time adventurer from the way back. Reslin had a son, too. Mighty bloke with a beard as coarse as iron, if I recall me history right…couldn't tell you his name if me life depended on it , but then again, dun s'pose he did anything worth rememberin'."

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