Thorn's Chronicle: The Druid's Council

I recognized the Elders from Riverfork and Achelos, and nodded greetings to them. Their brows furrowed, bushy eyebrows growing closer above eyes as stony as those of the Hierarch. Only the Eldress of Dymrak showed any sort of favorable reaction, if you can call quirking a gap-toothed smile, only to hide it behind long-nailed fingers “favorable.” Her black eyes glittered, hungrily, it seemed, lingering on the bracelet and lead.

Kaldmont 27th: Partings

Waning crescent of the Deep Snows (on or about Kaldmont 27, 997AC)

We parted ways at Rifflian, the Baron continuing north to his holdings, with Saoirse and the ranks of Silva’s Army (who spent the entire two days’ trip until Kelven arguing over whether they were to be called ‘The Defenders of Threshold,’ ‘The Company of Maidens,’ or ‘The Handmaidens of Petra.’)

Handmaidens of Petra: The Temple, continued

**XV**

“I could have fought him,” Justin grumbled.

“That thing was not…” Katarin started.

“Alive?” asked Brynne.

“Dead,” said Jasna.

Ten days and counting...

Ten days to go until the first installments of the third arc of Thorn's Chronicle go up.

Thorn's Chronicle of the Last Daughter of the Lost Kingdom Saga.

Last Daughter of the Lost Kingdom

Keeper of Dreams, Waking Dreamer

Sleeper Wakened, Walker in Moonlight

Blood of Kings, Bane to Those Beyond

Her Life, the Prison’s Binding Chain.

Lost Daughter of the First Empire

Wearer of Masks, Darkling's Schemer

Sleeper Wakened, Stalker in the Moonlight

Blood of Those Beyond, Bane of Kings

In Death, the Prison's Chain Unbound 

"Masks of the Dreaming Night," begins in the spring


An abandoned dwarven fortress.........
A drowned city ............
A forest of unquiet stone...........
One daughter's choice........
Another's sacrifice

Handmaidens of Petra: The Temple, continued

**XII**

The stench of death grew thicker as the curtains parted. A figure, robed and hooded in tatters of brown and gray cloth, stepped down from the mold-ridden mattress and bedclothes. The hood swiveled as it took in the intruders, and each of the girls shivered as the cold glare washed over them. Lord Justin’s sword rattled in his grip, though he did not lower the blade.

Handmaidens of Petra: The Temple, continued

**VII**

“Yeah, Jasna can be like that, sometimes,” Petra said, as Justin hefted her from the pit. She patted his hand, then joined the other girl in the corner by the bookshelf, picking through what few papers were left in readable condition.

“You might want to wipe a little more at your cheeks,” Katarin whispered, as he hauled her over the edge. “It won’t do for Jasna to see you crying.”

Handmaidens of Petra: The Temple of the Shield

**I**

“Stop pushing!”

“There’s nothing here. It’s just a slimy old hole in the rock.”

“I told you this is a waste of time. We could have been eating sweetmeat pies. But nooo, you had to--”

The girls crashed to a halt against Justin’s backpack.

Handmaidens of Petra: Lake Windrush, continued

**V**

There was a brief squawk, and thud, somewhere ahead in the mists.

“Never mind!” Petra called. “Katarin found it! The next one is over here!”

Handmaidens of Petra: Lake Windrush

**I**

“These pages smell like beer,” Jasna said, wrinkling her nose. Half the page was stained a yellowish-brown, the lettering smeared, barely legible. Not that she was having much luck deciphering the words anyway.

“That’s because somebody blew all the papers into the big puddle from the broken cask,” Petra said, glaring across the table. “While you were off racing, I saved as many as I could.”

Handmaidens of Petra: Fogor Island, continued

**V**

The young man may as well have been cast in stone, so still did he keep himself. Except for the panting. And whimpering. He flinched, as the creature’s teeth nipped the flesh at the base of his thumb. Not hard enough to break skin. The boy’s sudden movement caused the bindings around his wrists to snap, most of the rope having been chewed through.

Handmaidens of Petra: Fogor Island

**I**

“Go left!” Jasna shouted, over the ringing of hooves on cobblestones. “Left!” She reached up and hauled on the reins. The warhorse veered to the left, off the stretch of the Market Way they’d been galloping.

“Let go!” the young man called. “Are you trying to get us killed? This isn’t the way they went. We’re going to lose them!” The horse thundered down an alley barely wide enough for it to fit.

Handmaidens of Petra: Merchant's Square, continued

**V**

The four girls and the young man huddled around a small table in the corner of the kitchens at the Hook and Hatchet. As loud and crowded as the common room was, the kitchens were even louder. Extra serving boys and scullery maids dodged back and forth around the usual staff, all of them directed by the head chef, at the top of his lungs.

“Fiala,” her father said, looking down at them, “this is not a charity house. I cannot have you bringing in strays that will eat me out of business.”

Handmaidens of Petra: Merchant's Square

Merchant’s Square

**I**

Sollus had just crested the far ridges of the Altan Tepes by the time Jasna made her way to the gates of the temple quarter. It was nice to actually walk through them, rather than have to climb the scrubby lemon tree by the wall. She had to be extra careful in the winter, what with the branches being bare. 

She was glad to be out of the stuffy dining hall, breathing the cold, crisp morning air. The sting of the cold against her cheeks was invigorating, and chased away the last of the stickiness clinging to her thoughts that the past night’s dream had left. Surely, the dream was just a remnant of the memories in the tombs beneath Krakatos. 

Handmaidens of Petra: Prologue and Part I

The Handmaidens of Petra and the Shield of Halav

(or, “How I Spent My Winter Festival Holiday”)

Prologue: A Wager

“You must be gentle with my broom, Little Flower, or you will wear the bristles down to nothing, and then what shall we do to keep the snows off these temple steps?”

Jasna looked up at the old patriarch’s admonishment. She hadn’t been sweeping that madly.

“It isn’t like anybody ever attends services here, anyway,” Jasna muttered. At the old patriarch’s sigh, she immediately regretted having actually spoken the words aloud.

Twenty-odd days until the first installment of Arc 3: "Masks of the Dreaming Night." For those new to this blog, you can catch up on the "Rise of the Winter King" and "Wake of the White Witch's Wrath" either by-installment at the Piazza (links on the sidebar), or writ large on the Chronicle's archive at the Vaults of Pandius, here.

The tl;dr versions: Arc 1 covers the meeting of the group, the rescue of Silva's Army from Mistamere, the  saving of Verge from total destruction, the capture of Bargle and a slightly-altered version of B10's Lost Valley. Winter's hold over the weather is broken, and some secrets of Ancient Blackmoor are discovered.

Arc 2 covers the aftermath of the hero's separation just prior to the B10 section of Arc 1. The heroes are reunited, Bargle reappears, and the Eye of Traldar is found and then lost beneath Krakatos.