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[Written] Silverthorne - Neighboring Lands

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Post  Jared T Fri Jul 22, 2011 2:56 pm

Kingdom of Alleria
Found in the Old Lore Books on the Final Haven website.

Seat of Nobility

From A Biography of Silverthorne by Sathin Maevers, 1000 P.E.W.

Capital: Provone
Population: Approx. 150,000
Major Cities: Provone, Gusterach, Valshul
Exports: Grain

Alleria is an old kingdom with a rich history of trade with the people of Silverthorne. Legends among her own people tell of a time during the magriocracies when a large band gathered to shrug off the shackles of magic users. They fled their villages and fields for the better life they could find elsewhere. After begging passage through Gateway in exchange for trade concessions for all future generations, the ragged homeless entered the broad and sheltered valley of Alleria.

Rounded by mountains along three sides, and ocean on the forth Alleria was quickly cut off from the rest of the world. While Lassa was just beginning to extend her reach into the outer realms of the Silverthorne region, Alleria was already developing tradition and trade of her own.

That first group of settlers quickly became the blue blooded aristocracy of this new country and offered sanctuary to any seeking freedom from the oppression created by magic wielders. Many took up heir offer and moved farm and family to the gentle hills and fertile river valleys of Alleria.

Over the last five hundred years Alleria has developed some of the greatest poetry and music heard in the cities of Silverthorne. They invented the symphony and are dabbling in a new form of art which they call opera. It is a mixture of music and the stage acting which is found in many guilds of players in Dorchak and Vaunephasauk.

Due to the initial pact the first travelers made with the Dwarven nation of the Crescent mountains no trade may leave Alleria except by first passing the Dwarven export tariff. Since it is difficult to get Dwarves to leave their mountain homes and come to Allerian cities to partake of their tariff most merchant trains pass through Gateway and into Silverthorne.

With Silverthorne’s heavy need for grain in light of their recent war this is advantageous to both sides. Even though Alleria does not export large amounts of goods by sea, they do maintain a fleet of some size to protect their shores from the ravages of the Corsair Isles pirates. In the past they have lost several fleets in attempting to root the pirates out of that nest of corral reefs and shoal waters, so now the fleet coasts slowly up and down the coast, protecting the shores of the nation.

Many nobles of Silverthorne visit Alleria on something of a pilgrimage to experience the lifestyle of true oldblooded nobility. They find the entertainment and lifestyle which those good gentry live with to be most to their liking and often try to return some of that culture and good breeding to the lands they hold in Silverthorne.

However, many of the merchants who visit Alleria do so only once. Though the border is open, the rights of those without noble blood are severely restricted within her borders. By comparison Silverthorne appears to be a den of leisure and iniquity for the peasant class. In Alleria it is not uncommon for example for farmers to be used as target practice with a Baron’s longbow. Labor in the fields lasts from sunup to sundown, regardless of age or gender. Every fortnight provides an afternoon of leisure, provided their is not a market day or a barn raising to be done. Punishment for failure to attain the quota of work set forth by the noble of the region can result in anything from whipping to death. The life of peasantry is counted cheap among Allerians and often not counted at all.

Alleria claims not to practice in the slave trade, but peasant families are bound to the land. Those who flee their feudal lord are hunted down and executed. Those who seek to rise above their status, either to join a guild or craft, must first be branded with their master’s chop to insure that any profits they generate while working in another profession return to his holdings.

While to the nobility this is only their due for providing the land and suffrage which allows these people to live, many visitors from Silverthorne find these conditions loathsome, not to mention the discovery of a lack of buyers among a poor and downtrodden multitude.

The current king of Alleria is a man by the name of Ivan VonXierdan, the fifth king of that name. Ivan rules from the capital city of Provone where he lives in a near perpetual celebration of life with his three wives and dozen mistresses. His offspring are difficult to tally due to his rapacious nature, and may number well over fifty when all is said and done. His current favorite among them is Marribelle vonAvoni daughter to his second wife.

Spread among the two other major cities and acres upon acres of farmlands several hundred noble families vie for dominance. Within the countryside the hundred thousand or so inhabitants of Alleria easily outnumber their betters at one thousand to one.

Provone as capital has perhaps the largest population, though far smaller than Silverthorne or even Dorchak. Close to half the population lives there, maybe fifty-thousands altogether. Gusterach, twin city to Gateway, located on the eastern side of the pass numbers another twenty thousands among its teaming walled populace. And last of Alleria’s cities is Valshul on the seacoast, where the fleet is maintained by the labors of diligent shipwrights and the craft of hundreds of tireless hands. The city of ships holds perhaps another thirty thousand most of whom are engaged in one way or another with the military upkeep of Alleria.

The remaining hundred thousand inhabitants of the nation could all probably fit within the walls of Silverthorne city, if they could but leave their lands without finding death. Due to Alleria’s small size however, she is already quite densely settled. Her mistrust of magic has limited her ability to deal with disease and sickness in a way that has not happened within Silverthorne. The expensive potions of alchemists cannot keep up with the plagues that regularly sweep through heavily populated cities with the travelers from foreign lands.

So Alleria keeps on, much as she has for the last hundred years, slowly choking on the filth of her own refuse and her inability to change. If this is the fate that awaits older kingdoms, than Toevass would due well to take a close look at Alleria and advise our king accordingly. Of course I am just a wanderer with humble opinions that Toevass would never listen to.

Jared T

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Post  Jared T Fri Jul 22, 2011 2:57 pm

Carthen
Found in the Old Lore Books on the Final Haven website.

The Free City

From A Biography of Silverthorne by Sathin Maevers, 1000 P.E.W.

Location: Dry River Pass on the edge of the high desert
Population: Approx. 35,000
Exports: cloth, fruit, crafted goods

The city of Carthen is a sovereign city-state that sits nestled in the Dry River Pass on the edge of the high desert. The city is ruled by Governor Reme Abara and a council, picked annually by the guilds, that advises him on maters of state. Even though Carthen is not part of the Kingdom of Silverthorn, it does have an active contingent of House Jakoric. It is rumored that this contingent is older than the house itself and is the true force behind the governing of the city. The city houses a bit over 35,000 people and is completely walled in to shield its inhabitants from the harsh winds that blow in off the desert and pick up speed as they enter the Pass. The wall also serves to protect the citrus trees that grow outside the city on the leeward side. The cities chief export is cloth. The silks from Carthen are the finest in the kingdom and are vigorously sought out by those of wealth.

The weavers of Carthen have also developed a fabric commonly called "Moonfell" from the secretions of the rather large "Moon Worm". The Moon Worm is a white and blue bioluminescent worm that measure over twice the height of a full grown man but has a diameter no greater than that of a child’s smallest finger. This worm secreets a fine silver thread to create intricate webs to catch other insects and worms for food. When woven, this thread produces a cloth that shines like steel, is lighter than silk, but has the strength of a stout sail. This cloth reflects the hot pounding rays of the sun and is light enough to be worn in the noon day sun without much effort. This cloth is heavily sought after by the Il’Harad.

The Il'Harad

The Il’harad are a nomadic people who wonder the high desert from watering hole to watering hole. They come to the city of Carthen during the fall to buy their year’s worth of supplies. The Il’harad are a quiet stoic people with a dark skin and haunting blue-gray eyes that seem to glow in dim light The origin of the Il’harad is somewhat of a mystery. They do not share any of their history with outsiders and, as I found out, do not take kindly to the questions of the curious. They travel in extended family groups and carry all they own on the backs of horse like creatures with humps on their back. They call these creature "Ara’Shial" and they are the most prized possession an Il’harad can own. The Ara’Shial can travel the desert for weeks on end without so much as a drop of water. Unlike many nomadic peoples, Il’harad males only take one bride and protect them viciously. Taking only one bride may have roots in the philosophy that the family unit must be kept small in order to decrease the amount of water the family needs to survive. The Il’harad as a people distrust all magic exept that connected to the creation of water. Il’harad water-witches are rare amongst the people and when found, they often lead large groups of extended families as the sole political power. It is said that the water-witches can find water even in the middle of the high desert and, if no water is to be found, they can create it out of thin air. Other uses of magic by the water wizards is strictly forbidden by the people and tradition. The Il’harad feel that once the entire high desert was a lush tropical forest paradise that was destroyed bit by bit as the spell weavers of Phantera raped the forces of nature and perverted them to their will. They feel that every time a spell is cast, the last bits of this paradise, the Il’harad watering holes, are stolen away. The Il’harad do not use alchemy either. This may be due to their nomadic nature which makes it impossible to maintain any sort of laboratory in which to create potions.

The Serpentine

Another feature of the city of Carthen is an area known as the Serpentine. The serpentine is a series of alleyways and narrow streets that house the cities brothel district, its junk shops, and its less than reputable citizenry. The most popular tavern in the serpentine is The Green Rose. The green rose is known for its poor ale and hideous bar wenches, but it is a hub of underworld activity. It is said that no item is stolen that does not pass through the Green Rose.

Politics

The people of Carthen are a friendly lot. The prime entertainment in the city is storytelling. People sit in the shade and pass entire days by swapping tales. There are quite a few people who make there living through the telling of stories. They tend to build followings of people who follow them through the streets listening to their stories and paying them with coin and goods. One of the most influential guilds in the city, the Bards Guild, reflects the cities passion for stories. It is said they gain political favors in exchange for not telling certain stories about public officials.

The strongest guild in Carthen is the thieves guild. The guild is much more blatant in the city than it is in the Kingdom of Silverthorn. They make little effort to conceal themselves. The cities guard leaves them be in exchange for the understanding that the thievery will not get too out of hand. Any thief who does not belong to the guild, however, is punished severely by the guild if caught. The guild divided the city into five sectors. The sectors are watched over by a guild appointed "Hawk" through whom all major robberies in the sector must be cleared. Private citizens often pay the Hawk tribute in order to protect their homes and valuables. These Hawks sit on a council called "The Council of Five" and govern the guild workings. The Hawks are constantly fighting for the enlargement of their sector and for control of the brightest and best thieves. Currently, three of the Hawks are members of House Jakoric.

Jared T

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Post  Jared T Fri Jul 22, 2011 2:57 pm

Corsair Isles
Found in the Old Lore Books on the Final Haven website.

The lands of the "Free Merchant"

From A Biography of Silverthorne by Sathin Maevers, 1000 P.E.W.

Location: Off the Southern Coast of Silverthorne
Population: Approx. 15,000
Exports:None

The island at the northern tip of the islands is the Free Merchant’s Stronghold. This island is completely covered by the port city, Brigand’s Keep. Although the precise population is unknown due to the inhabitants penchant for hanging the king’s tax men who are sent there, it is estimated that there is a population of about 15,000 of the less desirable members of the Silverthorne realm.

The city is completely surrounded by a stone wall of Dwarven design, that towers over the island and makes attack nigh impossible. The only entrance is a channel leading into a gateway in the center of the northern wall. The speed of the current propels the vessel into the waterway which is rife with rock outcroppings and other hazards that only the most skilled navigators are capable of maneuvering through and then only if they already know the way. Because of this tactical advantage, the city is capable of withstanding even the strongest siege.

At the center of the isle chain is the Emerald Isle, long famed for its chapterhouse of Escalapians. It is here, in peace and sanctuary that the greatest healers known to man practice their trade. With rare herbs brought from all over the world by the corsairs common to the isles the Escalapians are able to cure nearly any illness.

At the westermost edge of the archipelago is the home of the Sea Dwarves. Their vessels crash and thunder across the waves, pilaging that which they desire with none to stand in their way. Only the most able seaman is able to avoid the shot flung from oversized catapolts which line their decks, and only the swiftest of sails can outrun the thundering churn of the strange vessels round oars. Cloads of black smoke follow the ships everywhere, it is believed that the Dwarves forge their killing iron just before battle so it is hot and fresh as it slices through the ships that are their prey.

The reef is also known for its cursed and deadly shoals. Perhaps the most famous of these is the Mephistopholes Reef. Here sailors lured by a strange and insistent song have been pulled to their death by the thousand. Ropes snap and wither under the perpetual night of the tide wrack around this isle. Boards seem to get dry rot by the second as one approaches, and all too soon the vessel is taking on water and plumeting to the bottom with her crew oblivious to their own danger.

Jared T

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Post  Jared T Fri Jul 22, 2011 2:58 pm

FrostFell
Found in the Old Lore Books on the Final Haven website.

Frozen City of Mystery

From A Biography of Silverthorne by Sathin Maevers, 1000 P.E.W.

Location: North of Gilbain
Population: Unknown
Exports: Unknown

Far to the north, beyond the ancient pine forests that mark the bounds of Gilbain’s territory lie the Frostfells. Steep faces that rarely see sunshine where hardy people survive by hunting and trapping in the deep valleys. Here the people herd their mountain goats and yaks, needing every resource to survive. Yet it is among these desolate peaks that a stone walled city stands to the amazement of any traveler to reach it.

I spoke to a reliable wanderer who wintered with the people of those mountains and learned of their ways. He told me of their courage in facing the dread forces of nature and the ferocious Yeti which prays on the weak and innocent with cunning and great strength.

"It took me nearly a month to get into the mountains, having to cross all of Gilbain, and then the lands beyond without escort. I feel that I am getting too old for this kind of thing, but chance lead me to the rescue of a young hill barbarian on the north face of the crescent mountains.

"He was under the attack of some white furred creatures, appearing almost as great furry parodies of trolls or orcs. They showed intelligence, and what may have been speech among themselves as they drove him into a box canyon, presumably to slay him."

"Seeing that he was outnumbered and not likely to survive on his own, I felt justified in lending him a hand. Luck let me gain the ridge above the creatures and their pray with none of them the wiser, even though I must have sent a good hundred weight of gravel plummeting down that slope in my hurry.

"Well I put arrow to bow, and a couple more beside for good measure and drew upon the largest of the creatures as he was reaching for the axe wielding barbaian’s leg. My arrow flew true and caught the beastie in the shoulder, not in time to stop him from taking a chunk out of the man’s leg though. My second arrow also caught one of the creatures, but the third flew wide in the swirling wind of the canyon.

"The two I hit soon swooned from the lovely herbal concoction which has been provided at times for the use of the scouts guild’s archers. While they were down and out their companions retreated from the field of battle, and the injured barbarian was feeling in no mood to give pursuit with his leg all torn up.

"When I made it down to him, I was forced to dispatch the two creatures, lest they gain consciousness while I was treating the lad. He woke the next afternoon, and the poltice I provided to his leg was helping him recover faster than he would have believed possible. Out of his gratitude he agreed to carry some of my missives to house Toevass, on his way into the Kingdom of Silverthorne.

"He also verified that the city in the Frostfell mountains was indeed real. He claims that the chieftains among many of the hill tribes here make a pilgrimage there before assuming control of the tribe. He says that many of their herb witches come from there as well. The city I seek seems to be something of a sacred site to the fierce barbarians of the northlands.

"After I made clear my intentions to travel there he informed me of several customs belonging to the people of that region and recommended that I take the hide of the Yeti, to prove my stature among them. It is supposedly considered the mark of a great warrior to kill the beasts. Though in my case I rather consider it the mark of great luck. If I was to close with them they would surely have ripped into me as they did the boy.

"At any rate after little more trouble and only a couple of brief encounters with other tribesmen I reached the Frostfells. At this point I was glad for the yeti skins, as the temperature plunged rapidly. There was little food to be found, and I might have starved had I not been familiar with mountain foraging on account of my service at Northwatch for king Silverthorne.

"First sight of that city would have to wait though until I dealt with its guardians and assured them of the veracity of my purpose. It was just after sunset, and I was huddled in the lee of a drift, under the shelter of a rocky outcropping when I heard the first shuffling outside. With little chance of their having not noticed me already, I figured bow and spear would have to answer whatever threat came to investigate my crude shelter.

"Much to my shock two giant white bears rounded the drift. Their heads were low to the ground as though sniffing out my trail, and their eyes seemed to glow a pale yellow in the flicker of my fire. I put my back to the rock wall, feeling granite along my spine and prepared for the worst. It never came.

"As the beasts edged further into the light I noticed the riders upon their backs, long lances at the ready. They were a dark and bearded pair, with eyes that could have driven spikes of ice through the breast of even the fiercest kingdom warrior. How they controlled such powerful beasts enough to ride is quite beyond me. Seems that they had a bond with them though, for the animals put their riders down without a word said, and no reins were in appearance.

"When they approached me I say the swing of great axes at each hip and long daggers revealed in the tops of furred riding boots. They were dressed very like to me, in hide of a straggly white color, turned inside out to keep the cold from biting into tender flesh.

"One pointed at my blanket. His only word was ‘Yeti.’ More a statement than a question. When I nodded he grinned and broke out a flask. It seemed that I had already proven myself well enough in their book.

"The next day the two of them lead me to their city. For them I’m sure the trip was quite relaxing with the help of such magnificent riding beasts, but I struggled through drifts to my waist and clambered over rockfalls twice my own height.

"It was worth it for the sight that met us at sundown though. There, outlined against a backdrop of charcoal colored stone a fortress city stood. Its square walls hunched against the mountain like a child clinging to its mother’s leg. As we appraoched those walls towered over us, probably a good hundred feet in height and joined seemlessly without a drop of mortar. When we passed through the gates, another dozen men on the white bears, which I learned were common to the iceflows of the east passed by my guides. They saluted one another with loud calls and insults, which seemed to be in good chear, though I seemed to be at the but of more than one joking remark.

"Within the walls the city was a maze of half completed stonework, though no masons were present. It seems that the current inhabitants adopted it from some other people whom they refer to as ‘the great ones’ it was this people who taught the barbarians of the north the secret of fire and how to war on the yeti. When the great ones disappeared they left the chief among men in charge of their city, and told him and his descendants to wait for the day of the return. The Great Ones then disappeared into the depths of the mountain passes never to be seen again.

"Ever since the mountain tribes have warred on the yeti, each rooting out any weakness among the other in a place where only the strongest can survive. It was to this battle that the bear riders were born and raised. After killing their first yeti alone and on foot those who seek to be riders go alone into the wilderness and live with the bears. After many seasons the lucky few come back as riders. They are considered the greatest warriors among a proud warrior nation, and are awarded great honors in the mead halls when the blizzards of winter close down around the passes beyond city walls.

"Every summer the barbarians from the south come up from the hills bringing steel weapons and seeking to learn from the great warriors of the north. When they return to the hills of their tribes they often take back brides from among the northern people, so that sons born to the south can know the strength and pride of their northern cousins. These women serve the tribes as herb witches and craft poultices to treat the wounds and sickness of a people deeply superstitious about magic.

"Within the great central hall of the keep, where I was permitted to feast after joining a war party on a raid against a yeti scouting party sighted off the north slope I witnessed the fear of magic first hand. I had already lived with them some time, becoming hardened by their lifestyle, and learning to push my body beyond any limits I had previously imagined. It was within their hall that I watched a poor woman accused of witchcraft for the sickness which had overcome her husband and son. She was burned upon the spit, and I felt sick to my stomach at the brutality I witnessed, unable to oppose it. While I sat in the shadows and the barbarians prepared to roast her she miraculously disappeared from view. They were shocked into outrage, and nearly tore the city apart searching for her.

"The next day when I was gathering herbs for my poultices in the mountains beyond the gates I had a chance to bid her farewell. She is no longer at liberty to live among her people, but at least she lives. Sometimes I wonder, when thinking about the grief in her eyes, or the sobs which racked her as she spoke of her husband’s wasting sickness, which was the better fate for her to suffer.

"We all have a place though, and she seemed to be determined to learn to cure that which destroyed her family. I sent her south, to some scholars I once knew, and she sent me north seeking once more the reason for this endless war between barbarian and beast. Perhaps there is more to it than the surface shows"

"With the gates of Frostfell city behind me once more, I paused to admire the city, whose thousands could never have built her, and whose stories remain a mystery even to this day."

Strider Al’Terra Winter 998-9
Seventh Tome of House Toevass

Jared T

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Post  Jared T Fri Jul 22, 2011 2:59 pm

Territories of Gromm
Found in the Old Lore Books on the Final Haven website.

Lands of Tyranny

From A Biography of Silverthorne by Sathin Maevers, 1000 P.E.W.

Location: East of the Cresent Mountains
Population: Unknown
Exports: Unknown
Though the affairs of Silverthorne are currently quite intertwined with that of this land, little is yet known about it. From seafarers who have skirted her shores we have heard that it is a desolate place, lacking much in the way of tree or fertile plains. From the few scouts and warriors to bridge her borders tales of horrifying atrocities to unreal to be believed return.

Toevass has a few vague references to a fortress city on the western slopes of the Crescent Mountains adorned with a black sun. The records indicate that the fortress is a den of evil which nearly cost several Silverthorne agents their lives in penetrating. They brought back tales of terrible necromantic enchantments and wards so strong that the very fabric of reality was shifted around them. They also returned with a captured Allerian noble, demonstrating the long reach of Gromm’s forces.

Scholars estimate that the land area of Gromm closely matches that of Silverthorne. They also guess that it problably contains a similar number of inhabitants, though more evently spread out due to the dificulty of finding food.

Social structure within the boundaries of Gromm has been refered to as barbaric. It is a place where the strong prey on the weak for sustanance. Each band of creatures here is constantly struggling for survival, being hardened by their environment and each other.

Whether Gromm, whose armies constantly push at our borders controls this land well enough to call up all its inhabitants as troops is unknown, but a terrifying though. In addition to the Orcs which seem to be the staple commodity of these lands warriors who have survived report seeing trolls, ogres, goblins, the occasional giant, the occasional giant lizard or wyvern, and several large hairy supply beasts. None of our troops seem to have gotten more than fifty miles from the mountains and survived to tell about it.

Jared T

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Post  Jared T Fri Jul 22, 2011 3:00 pm

The Sunrise Isles
Found in the Old Lore Books on the Final Haven website.

Isles of the Dawn

From A Biography of Silverthorne by Sathin Maevers, 1000 P.E.W.

Location: Far Southeast of Silverthorne
Population: Unknown
Exports: Unknown
Well if it’s a legend you want it’s a legend you’ll get. I have been sailing these waters for nearly forty years now and have seen not a tenth of what there is to be seen. What I know though is that there’s not a day goes by when I don’t curse old Silverthorne’s line for the muckety job he did when it comes to the Isles of the Dawn.

Suren they’re real enough. Real enough to produce a mean and scurvy fleet which’ll chew up any fishing lugger they can find. They hate us, with a passion. You see long ago the King of those isles was the brother of the first king of Silverthorne. He came here asking for a place to stay, to launch his pirate raids from. His own brother turned him away, saying that his kingdom in the Bay of Thornes had no place for piracy.

Well, of course the brother felt betrayed. He sailed east vowing revenge. For several months he traveled, cresting the horizon beyond any trace of land. His men said he was a fool, and nearly mutineed, but he was a wily old shark, and skinned the first two he found plotting. After that it sort of dried up.

Their water was down to the dregs, and the food running low when the lookout hailed land on the horizon below. They drew in to port, and found three large isles. Each only sparsely populated, but waiting for them. They struck a deal with the witch-doctor ruling one of the islands and used his tribe to conquer all three isles. When that was done, they set about using the natives as labor, to build a great harbor in mockery of that found in the bay of thorns. There they built an enormous stone vault, covering the entire entrance to the harbor. Sea gates on both sides of the vault controlled any ship that wanted to get in or out. To this day, any from the Corsair Isles who want trade with Sunrise have to heave to and take on a crew for passage through the seagates.

Over the years dire warning of black magic have drifted down from those who have visited Sunrise. Many come back with strange illnesses, drawn and gaunt though they have eaten their full. It is even said at night in dockside Taverns that the brother of old Silverthorne still lives, sitting his throne of human bones and waiting for his revenge.

It was to the reavers of Sunrise that I lost my first ship. They came out of the dawn fog, with the sun glare at their backs. I couldn’t count masts or beam in the light, but it must have been close to a score that bore down on my old coaster. She was a barge, and stout in her timbers, but with nowhere to run there wasn’t a chance. I cut close ashore, near reef and shoal, hoping to bottom their deepwaters out. They lit up my canvas with jars of burning oil, not caring for loot or for our thwarts.

Well my mates and me went over the side, we settled in the water to hide. We drifted for days, and washed ashore as strays, luckily enough on an isles off the normal ways. We caught a lugger back to our lands the next summer, but not before cursing Silverthorne and his pompous ways.

-Unknown Sea Captain

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