Three days trekking through the wood with a fever. It was enough to drive anyone mad, and yet Kailos continued to push through with the stubborn determination of a desperate man. While he had not experienced any other strange hallucinations since the first, some part of him steal feared what darkness lay within his body. The wound he had received at the hand of the orcs during the defense of the Rites of Spring ritual seemed to be the culprit. While the healer Miran had cleansed the area and the skin and melded back together, something of the infection must have remained lying in wait beneath. “Damn the Orcs to all the nine hells.” The warrior cursed under his breath, slogging forward through the muck of the bog. He mentally checked himself, wondering why he thought there were nine hells as opposed to one. Or any for that matter. The one benefit of this strange fever was that bits of his memory seemed to be returning, albeit in useless pieces of information of broad and disconnected subjects. So far he had remembered the guard rotations of the town watch with the many names of the guards bringing no faces to mind and the town a blur of gray, the proper way to groom a horse for an official parade of which he had seen none in this world so far, and a few other things he was beginning to find more annoying than anything else. Oh, and now he was believing in nine hells. Perhaps he was in one of them and that's what had jogged his memory. Cursing again, he readjusted his pack and kept up the grueling pace. It was mid afternoon and the weather was humid and hot, with plenty of the little flying vampire bugs that left itchy bumps where they bit you and the occasional serpent that crossed across the path. If you could call it a path of course, as it was more of a less mucky part of the swamp. He shouldn't be pushing himself this hard in his state, but the traveler detested the place so much he would risk death before stopping for the night in this gods forsaken place. If he was lucky, which Kailos found to be more questionable by the second, he would break through to the higher ground by late afternoon and be in the foothills of the Sky Reaches by even later evening. Somewhere nestled in those hills was the farmhouse he has stayed in the last time he passed through the area, heading south to meet with Cronos and the others. Maybe he should have just stayed there. He gritted his teeth and pushed the thought aside. There was no time to sit about missing the warm fire and the taste of mead on his tongue. He had a mission and he had to see it through. While it had been a short stay with the Ka-Nar-Sey tribesmen, Kailos had grown fond of the wild folk of the Northern Barrens. They were strong, loyal, and willing to help a stranger from being trampled by a heard of mountain elk when he was foolish enough to cross their path. They also threw a hell of a feast after taking down one of the massive beasts. He supposed they'd have too, when the carcass of one such elk had to be dragged by four oxen, and the ribs were used to build the yurts the tribesmen stayed in. A twinge of pain shot across his brow, both from the fever and from his frustration at not taking the rumors about the portals seriously. “Damn these portals to all the...” Mentally rolling his eyes at his lack of originality with curses, the bespattered pilgrim lapsed into a string of unintelligible profanity. Hopefully the druidess who had cured his bruises the last time he was at Vin Tharalla could also cure orcish poison. Not that orcs were from this world. Or were they? That point still confused Kailos. While all the others at the Winter Council and this recent tournament had seemed to be at least aware of the green monsters existence, most of the various peoples of Osterra seemed to find them as foreign as he had when first laying eyes upon them. Yet other Osterrasians saw the orcs as common as flies, just harder to kill. This world was indeed strange to have such differences in knowledge in such a relatively small area. Another serpent slithered through the brush making the warrior jump. He stopped to catch his breath and let his heart calm. His whole body ached with sickness and exhaustion, and after the tail of the snake flicked into the grass he pushed himself forward. A few more hours before he was in the clear, hopefully with a warm fire to sit by and a mug of ale to clear out his gut of the pain and disease. Kailos couldn't stop now. He had a mission.

A few miles north of the royal winery a gentle wind played through the trees, rustling their leaves gently to make a somewhat continuous and pleasant noise. Spring had truly come to Osterra, and the lone traveler who wound his ways between the trees was appreciating it greatly. His bare feet moving steadily and with care not to step on anything to sharp, Kailos pondered the events of the past few days. It had been a good turn out for the fledgling kingdoms first tournament and, while he himself had not competed, he felt it had been beneficial to have made the time to return to what he now referred to as the south country. There were many great warriors among the ranks of portal walkers, and he had been impressed by the skills shown by the healers and arcane trainers as well. He himself had been assigned to train some of the newer members of their growing number as scouts under the direction of Quartermaster Randy, and had enjoyed the task greatly. Looking up at the clear sky with the sunshine caressing his face, he sighed deeply. It was all going so well so far, so why did he feel as if it wasn't going to stay that way? Pausing for a moment beneath the branches of a particularly large oak, the wanderer removed his pack and leaned his new halberd against it's rough bark. Sitting down, he grabbed his water skin and drank deeply. Perhaps the orcs attacking again was what was bothering him. He had been shaken by seeing the creatures again, though he made sure not to tell the others that. Gareyth would probably tell him to be brave and that the Lords of Light would protect him, Xoticua would probably talk more of Tharos' hunger and try and convert him, perhaps Randy would analyze the strategy of the orc raiders and comment on their lack of coordination. The new friends he had made would also have had their own comforts or jests, but in his heart Kailos felt something that he hadn't felt yet in this strange new world. Perhaps fear was the word? Though something about it felt like more than that. He shook himself and splashed some of the water over his sweaty face. Perhaps when next he returned to Nova Regnus he would speak with Meren about it, or Lotharien. The healers had been a great help in tending to the injured during the tourney as well as the one named Grissan who had seemingly been possessed. While that last experience had been vexing, Kailos still smiled at the thought of the enigmatic fighter. It was tragic what had happened to him, yet he seemed eager to find a way to redeem himself and heal his mind for that matter. A rustle in the bushes brought Kailos' attention back to the present, and a few yards away a deer sprinted off deeper into the wood. The warrior was surprised to find himself already standing, his shortsword in hand and his body posed to strike. Taking a moment to see if anything else was near, he relaxed and sat back down with the blade still in hand. He deftly ran his finger along the side of the blade as his thoughts returned to his journey. Caenric, the most knowledgeable of all his fellows on the matter of the portals had told him much that had him worried as well. While he had been in the Northern Barrens, Kailos had spent much time with the tribesmen of the Ka-Nar-Sey as well as a handful of members from other villages in the vast area beyond the mountains they called The Sky Reaches. He had told them of his being a traveler from another world through a portal of which he knew little, and they had responded by telling him of rumors that two of the tribes, one to the east by a vast sea and one further north in another, smaller range of mountains that had caves going deep into the ground. These tribes were supposedly built around and worshipped portals, each for different reasons but with the same result: the sacrifice of animals, treasure, and even other sentient creatures via throwing them into the portal. Caenric had some theories as to what that all meant, none of them good, so Kailos had decided he would make his way back to northland and see for himself if these rumors were true. While his fellows on the council and of the kingdom seemed to be decent folks, they seemed far more interested in their own varied interests than what was going on outside of Nova Regnus. Perhaps he was being cynical about the council, but either way he still felt a need to protect the tribesmen who had offered their hospitality to a stranger in strange land. Kailos once again shook his head trying to clear his mind. So much had happened in such a short time. He wasn't even sure who he was if the truth were to be told. While some had retained their memories or regained them from their lives before traveling through the portal, he still remained a mystery to himself. Only his name and a desire to protect those he held close were what he seemed to maintain, and even those two things became blurred at times. Even some who had lost their powers, such as Geth the Necromancer or Grayson the Cleric, seemed to have such confidence in who they were. Kailos smiled at the thought of Gareyth's face when first meeting Geth. Two more opposite warriors could not be found in this world, and he enjoyed the humor in them fighting for the same cause side by side. Closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the oak, he took a breathe and calmed his mind. "SOON" The word rang out with the clear, authoritative power of someone or something that was used to being in complete control. Kailos eyes flew open and he made to leap yet again into a defensive pose, only to find his body was not responding to his own minds commands. His eyes seemed to be the only thing he could move, and he looked wildly around to see who had spoken. The wood was empty, and completely silent. No breeze, no deer, no birds or rustling branches. His heart raced and he felt his whole body tense as if every muscle in his body contracted at once. Sweat began to trickle down his face and the hand which he had been playing along the edge of the blade stung has it sliced deeply into his hand. The whole ordeal was over in a moment, and as soon as the tension left Kailos rolled onto his side and vomited. It was a full ten minutes before he pushed himself back up onto his knees, his heart still racing. His hand was throbbing and he crawled to his pack and rummaged through for some cloth to wrap it in. Glancing back through watering eyes at the spot he had regurgitated, and was horrified to see a puddle of bial as black as obsidian. Grabbing his waterskin he poured some into his mouth and spat it back out to clear the putrid taste that was overwhelming his sense of taste. What was this? Falling back off his knees the warrior sat, his bleeding hand wrapped in a now blood soaked cloth, panting like a cornered animal. Should he go back to the winery? It was only a days journey to return and perhaps some of the healers were still their. He could see if perhaps one of the weapons the orcs had attacked with had been poisoned, as he had received a light wound to his leg just the evening prior during the ritual to discover more about the orbs. Another few minutes passed, agonizingly slow as if time had slowed to a crawl. Something told him the others would not react well to this. There was enough possessions and strange happenings already and Kailos had a strong suspicion that there would be consequences he wouldn't like if he went back so soon talking of obsidian vomit and voices coming from thin air. It was another weeks journey to make it to the pass through the Sky Reaches, and another four days to make it to where the Ka-Nar-Sey were located. Maybe he could find some sort of transportation that would expedite this process, and he could talk to the druidess who lived with the tribe. Yes, that was what he should do. Standing, he took the cloth off his hand for a moment to see if it needed to be replaced. His hand showed no signs of being cut. Startled, he examined what he had seen as a bloody bandage just a moment earlier to see it showed no signs of having even a light nosebleed let along a gushing wound soaked into it. Looking over to where he had vomited, the bial was also gone. The cold, disturbing feeling he had yet to fully understand once again pushed through his chest like an unwanted wind of a winter storm. He shivered, and quickly began gathering his things. Taking the time to throw his boots back on, Kailos resettled his pack on his shoulders and began walking briskly north. He didn't know what was happening to him, but whatever it was he needed to find someone who did. To be continued...

The events of this tale happen a few weeks before the Rites of Spring, on the road towards the border of the Kingdom of Nova Regnus. Kailos hated the taste of blood. While he couldn't exactly remember much of his past, he assumed this fact had always rung true with him. Maybe it was the odd warmth of it, or maybe the metallic taste? At least it was his own blood, but that didn't really make him feel much better either way. It had been two months since he had left the hall of the newly founded Council to the King, and he had to say he was not particularly fond of Osterra. Once again his lack of memory dissuaded him from assuming anything of the world from which he had come, but he felt that it hadn't been a world with such brutish and violent creatures as the trolls that had him somewhat surrounded at this particular time. With a wry grin he spat the blood from his mouth, hoping there wasn't any teeth hidden in the sanguine puddle that had landed at the feet of what he could only assume to be the head troll. Damn his bad fortune to stumble across three of these things in one place. He had tried and failed to sneak past them, but the brush had been too thick and he had stumbled over a log which they had noticed and, of course, felt the need to take as an act of war upon their territory. Changing his stance to a more defensive position, Kailos shook his head slightly and took a breath, calming his nerves and focusing the energy in his body for the fight. It was strange, the way he could sense things better here. It was as if he only had to reach out and grab onto this indescribable power and he could wield it to change the fabric of reality itself. He didn't like that idea, and had very early on in his adventures here in the Northern Wilds that he would not go down the road of the arcane practitioner. At least not if he could help it. His train of though was broken when the troll on his right lunged forward with out warning, teeth bared in a hideous grimace, equal parts triumphant smile and rage filled roar. They were only about four and a half feet tall, and Kailos guessed that these were either young beasts or simply stunted growth wise. The last tribesmen he had talked to had mentioned that there were several different varieties of these particular monsters in this area, and the smaller ones were relatively stupid and easy to handle. This of course, did not make them any less dangerous. As the muscular arms of the troll nearly reached him, the warrior deftly side stepped, using the butt end of his halberd to trip the now confused beast. Continuing to use the momentum of the movement, he brought the ax head crashing down on the central trolls neck, severing a decent amount of tendons and, hopefully, mortally wounding the beast. Unfortunately this left him exposed slightly on his front, and he was struck by the full force of the final troll launching itself at his chest. They toppled backwards, the halberd still buried in the neck of the dying leader. With a roar, the beast that had trip ran to it's leader and tried to help prevent it further pain by wrenching the weapon free. This of course only led to spew of blood and a slight gurgle as the wounded beast gave its last breath. Kailos would have felt bad for the troll left standing their, its comrades blood covering the weapon in its hands, but he had more pressing matters to attend to as his assailant brought one of it's meaty arms down on his chest, knocking the wind out of him. Rolling out of the way to dodge another blow, all the while trying to suck air into his decompressed lungs, Kailos drew his dagger and neatly sliced the inner thigh of the enraged creature, releasing a torrent of blood and a squeal of agony from the monster. It swung wildly at him, and nearly hit him too had it not been for his quick instinct to duck. Now in a squatting position, the warrior took the small blade in both hands and lunged upward into the trolls chest, just below its rib cage. Another, shorter roar left it's fanged mouth as it fell to the ground dead. Withdrawing the blade from the corpse, Kailos turned to his final foe, just in time to see the monster snap the shaft of the halberd like a twig and throw the metal end at his head. Swearing and dodging, the fighter ruefully thought of how much it would cost him for a new weapon to replace his beloved halberd. Regaining his composure, he faced the beast. They glared at each others equally bloody face then, with a roar, the troll made its final charge towards this troublesome passerby. Without thinking, Kailos pulled back and punched the monstrosity full in it's ugly fanged face. The troll had not expected this, and to be honest neither had the warrior. The result was another stand off, as the troll seemed to take a moment to understand what had happened, and the wayfarer wondered what had made him think that was a good idea. It was, however, the latter of the pair that decided not to waste so an opportunity, and his blade carved a path across the confused beast's throat. Still with a look of surprise across it's grotesque features, the troll fell in a heap next to it's fellows. Kailos sat down, breathing hard. As the adrenaline began to subside his body began to ache and the hand with which he had made his penultimate swing began to throb. Spitting some more blood out of his mouth, he glanced down at his hand to see two of the fingers were bent at awkward angles, and were already beginning to bruise. Swearing, he gingerly checked if they were broken. To his immense surprise, it seemed as if they had only been dislocated. Grimacing, he popped them back into place and stood up, surveying the area. Before the attack he had planned on making camp close by here. Had he succeded in sneaking past the trolls there was a glad on the other side of the nearby creek in which he had camped on his journey here. Now, covered in blood and worried about his hand, he considered his options. He could try and find another, less troll infested part of the wood to make his campsite in, or he could perhaps see if these brutes had had a small cave close by he could spend the night in. Glancing at the remnants of his halberd, he brushed both of those ideas to the side. Without his primary weapon he was next to useless in a straight fight, and while the dagger had served him well in this encounter, he had had the benefits of surprise and luck on his side. He doubted much if he could use the short blade as effectively as he had just done now. Odd, he thought, he had never thought of himself as a particularly skilled knife fighter. Then again, no memories. Grimacing, he collected his pack and the head o the halberd. With any luck he could salvage it at the next town he came across. For now though, he was in for a long walk. It was about midday now, and if he really pushed himself, he could make it the few extra miles to the small inn on the border which he had been told about by some of the tribesmen he had met. What was it called... The Tired Wanderer? The Dreary Wayfarer? He would just have to see when he got there he supposed.

A letter, written on a small scroll of parchment and sent by raven south on the 21st of March, Year 1 of the Crossing: To the Council of Osterra, Hail and well met fellow travelers. It has been a few weeks since last we sat round the fire and talked of both our pasts and our futures. While I have learned much in the days since then, I find myself yearning to be back in the company of such fine folk. As some of you may know after the Winter Council I made my way north in the hopes of meeting more of the people of this land we have named Osterra, and learning of their ways and customs to better help our situation on this world. These are my findings thus far: Those I have encounter are mostly human from what I can see, though rumors abound of other races throughout the land, and I myself had a brief encounter with a band of Orcs not two days after leaving the King’s manor. From what I understand Orcs do not seem to be native to this area, and many of the Osterrianz fear their presence is sign of a coming darkness to which I would have to say I agree. However as with all things, there are rumors of the light that fights such darkness, and of ancient magics that protect the fields and forests in which these people live. And while dangers abound in this strange and wonderful land, live they do. The winter has been harsh, but I have found great warmth by the hearths of many a farmer or merchant, and even a clan chieftain or two. All have welcomed me with nare a second glance and have taught me much through tales of adventure and daring. While some of these tales are obviously embellished beyond reason, I have gleaned that there does seem to be an active portal somewhere in the vicinity in which I have been staying most recently. As we have yet any cartographers among our ranks I cannot say exactly where I am, but I intend to take down as much information as possible in order to return with other travelers and discover the portals location. In addition I have gained a great deal of knowledge on the plants and herbs of the region, and while my memory of my past life still eludes me, I have some inclination that I once studied the art of herbalism and potion making. Perhaps with further practice I might regain these skills and use them for our cause. I was fortunate enough to gain a sizable amount of parchment and ink from an enclave of what seemed to be religious scholars, and have taken to making notes on the various properties of any interesting flora I have come across. As such I will be sending several recipes with this letter for what I believe will be a useful healing potion, as well as one that gives the drinker respite from bad dreams. This brings me to the final and most concerning bit of information I have discovered so far. Many of the villages I have visited have been afflicted by a plague of bad dreams and night terrors. It sounds strange I know, however I myself have seen an individual suffering from these fiendish hallucinations and it is a frightful sight to behold. The locals seem to think these dream originate from a dark spirit that haunts the land and while this may or may not be true, I would nonetheless stay on your guard. I hope that, while my tidings be grim, they are of some use to the council and I am heartened at the thought of returning when the weather begins to warm and the trees begin to bloom. Until then farewell and the road you walk be a pleasant one! Your humble wanderer, Kailos