Newleigh, Unclaimed Territory.

45th of Arah, the second month of Snow.

2289 years since the new gods came.

We have settled the bill and will be leaving town in the morning. The local branch of the Gentlemen of Repute threw us a going away party. The stupid flufball, whatever it's name is, stole my turkey leg. I can't believe it can eat so fast! And like most kittens, it isn't getting fat.

I hope I don't find any more dead rats on my bed.

46th of Arah,

The weather is a bit chilly, but the snow is melted for the most part. I gave the 'plow' away to the first person who asked about it. Good riddance. 10 miles today.

49th of Arah,

Bandit activity is nonexistent in the winter and early spring, thankfully. We have come across a frozen over bandit camp. Looks like they ran out of firewood and resorted to burning their wagons and about half of their tents. Proper Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance. Is it wrong to say I'm glad they are all dead? We buried them.

50th of Arah,

The spring planting/new years festival is approaching. I plan on stopping at a random farm and helping with the planting for a few days. I miss farming. Perhaps some day I will be able to do it again.

53rd of Arah,

Roughly 170 miles so far. The roads are muddy, but still fairly good.

56th of Arah,

Goodbye old year. Welcome new one! I wish I had had more time with my wife... The Swensons' are a lovely family and were more than willing to welcome us into their home. Fluffball even got fresh cream on account of being a 'pretty boy'. That cat is pure demon.

Swenson's farmstead, Unclaimed Territory.

1st of Samue, The Month of Planting.

2290 years since the new gods came.

I have missed plowing the soil. I gave Mr. Swenson a copy of my plow plans, as well as a copy of the reaper plans as a new years gift. Mrs. Swenson received a dress pattern. We received new socks, fresh cream and a 50lb wheel of smoked and aged cheese. Mmmm Cheese.

The plowing and planting is mostly done. We will be leaving in a day or so, once everything is in the ground.

4th of Samue,

Farmer Swenson and I built the plow. Then he and I plowed the neighbors fields too. We leave in the morning.

5th of Samue,

On the road again. I miss the travel. We may have 'lost' a couple of horses at the Swenson's farm, and his neighbors. I hate leading lines of livestock. Not like I could send good animals to the slaughter house. 15 miles today.

12th of Samue,

Spotted a flight of Griffins. We are getting near the mountains. The next major city is Forbach, a mostly Gnoll town, but still separate from the Council of Bangivia. After Forbach it will be Jazepel, Rektusk, and Pondspell. Then we will cross out of Council lands, into the Dwarven Kingdom of Hasandri. A long trip.

18th of Samue,

Forbach tomorrow. Pick up some new supplies. Sell some horses, and maybe a kitten. See the sights, if any.

21st of Samue,

Forbach was nice. Good prices. Down to 8 extra horses. Fuzzy butt refused to be sold. I got scratched quite a bit. Good thing I heal so quickly.

22nd of Samue,

Gnoll traders on the road. A little standoffish. Brandywine did the talking since I don't speak the language yet. The road from Forbach to Jazepel is apparently a little muddy still, but no bandits so far. We shared a meal. About a hundred miles, so four days left.

24th of Samue,

Lots of travelers, and the first preservation wagon of the trip! The freezing magic in those wagons is a marvel. It freezes whatever you put in it in less than a quarter hour. This one was carrying fish. We bought a couple. It was very tasty roasted over the fire.

26th of Samune,

Jazepel! Jewel of the sea. That is what the locals call it anyway. The farthest west city of the Council, it bosts a population of some twenty thousand residents. Mostly Gnolls. The seaport is very active, with a fully functional dry-dock facility and shipyard. It is actually a nice place. Hopefully we can sell the remaining horses.

27th of Samue,

Horses are sold. The locals outside the business district are very insular. I wonder how things will go the deeper we get into Council territory.

28th of Samue,

Yup. Humans are generally disliked here. Brandy is fine, they love her. It reminds me of what Tristan said about where he came from...racism he called it. Humans are second class citizens. At least Gnolls don't keep slaves. We leave in the morning.

29th of Samue,

If we keep making good time we will make Rektusk in two more days. It's strange, being treated differently because of my lack of fur. The children point it out to their parents, who tell them it's rude to stare. The adults just kind of ignore you, unless you get right in their faces. I was able to talk to an old Gnoll about it today. A veteran.

- - -

“Ya see, young one, It was after the third Demon war. Gnolls had fought on both sides in that one.” The elderly Gnoll coughed into a kerchief, “The humans forgot about the ones in their ranks, and started a campaign to 'rid the lands' of our kind. So we left. We just never forgot.”

“Oh. That makes a lot of sense.” Max nodded, and waved at the bar gnoll for another pair of beers.

“Yes. Now there are some tribes that hang on the outer edges of the human kingdoms, but most of us live here. Up where it, is civilized.”

- - -

31st of Samue,

Rektusk. It is a city. It is full of Gnolls. And a lot of trees.

34th of Samue,

I will say this about Gnolls, they have a very dim view of crime. We found a gang of bandits strung up on trees today.

35th of Samue,

We are in the company of a trade caravan that visits the small homesteads and villages off the main roads. Nice people. Only mildly racist...Speciesist? Tristan probably would have had 'words' with them.

37th of Samue,

I was whistling an old tune while bathing in a stream this morning, and the Gnolls around me just stared. At first I thought it was all the exposed skin, but they kept staring even after I was clothed. I was asked later about the tune by the caravan mistress at breakfast.

As I am playing 'Max the Tourist, recently come into inheritance, and out to tour the world', I had to answer in line with the story, so I lied...

When in the hells did my whistling get so good?

- - -

“That was quite the complicated tune you were whistling in the bath.” The caravan mistress said, walking up to Maxwell.

“...It's an old song from the past of my family?” Max lied.

Cocking an impressive eyebrow, the mistress asked, “How old?”

“Um...more than ten generations?” Not exactly a lie, as it was three to four centuries ago that Max had learned the tune.

“Very interesting. You whistled it well.”

Max raised his own eyebrow, “Is my excellent whistling the reason everyone was staring?”

She laughed, “Yes and no. You hit all the notes, even the ones silent to your ears, perfectly. But no, it is because that was the battle song of the Gnoll Republic that the first demon war destroyed. We thought it forgotten by all but the bards of our people.”

Max stared wide eyed at the woman, and slowly nodded.