The following is an excerpt from the travel diaries of one BoMork Rinelle, a renowned dwarven hunter and writer who was pinned as a Voice of the Northern Trunks (an ambassadorial title bestowed by the “government” of the great Townships of the Northern Trunks)
The city herself is beautiful sight, ‘specially after a coupl’a tenday in the mud, naught but trunks for miles. City’s got walls on three sides, a lake on the last. The Marchion and Viscouncil have laws what keep the city from becoming too crowded so the streets are wide and clean. The market is the second largest in the March, smell of meats and fresh clothing. The poor live in crowded hamlets outside the walls, closely together in areas not already owned by farmers. I arrived and the Briarcloaks at the city gate reminded me they requires a peace-knot, so I yanked me firing pin from me crossbow and packed away me bolts and hatchet. Easier to just stow the things, no nambly-pambly elf could match me a fist-fight besides.
I head straight for the Viscount’s Hold whenever I get to Broadleef, as Jervon Zentri is a friend. The lad can right fire a crossbow and I ran with The Foxhounds- scouts of the Liseran Legion- a coupla seasons before I got me pin. Zentri was known then as a right commander and remains a good ruler. We strapped on, drank, and carried tales late into the dark. I was no hound with the Silent Tread the next morn, twas a bottle of wine and half the sun before I found me eye.
Tell ye, ye wouldn’t hear those rangers if they was dancing on yer ears. During training ye go a month without speaking, to show dedication to silence. I move right quiet but the lads simply blow away as the breeze. Providing food for the Marches and skins to the tanners keeps them in wine and new leather year round. Their leader, Brevvil Mauer, is a firm old elf, didn’t take to me humor on the road so much but was at least respectful enough of me position to take me along. Glad was I that I managed to fell something for our plates and earn me place.
I had no business with the Marchion here so I didn’t call on her but Mella Juniper is known as a right leader herself. Elves live by station and blood and the Juniper family is ancient by even their measure. Bah, those elves would marry names if they could. Or they do. Depends on how ye look at it is me guess. The Junipers have long ruled these parts- trading at names, taking power when their kids outshine the other old names. Yer Ryeburns, Agavners, yer Huskrells and Berlees. I met Marchion Mella Juniper while passing through on me way to Merschelmerre on me first assignment after receiving me Voice. The Marchion moves slowly in her years but holds her honor well. The Marchion maintains a chamber for the royal family at The Court of the Briar Throne still, common in the Northern Marches where they still want for a King. Right host, them Junipers though; know how to stock a larder. Mella is ancient, nearing twenty six decades, if I’m correct. Still sharp though she’s one of the oldest people yet living. Never would ye see a dwarf live that long, too much drink and falling out of trees. I brought her a cloak what was made from a mountaincat I’d shot whilst going the Hoofway. Doubtful something a woman of her stature wears but if she goes for a day of riding it’ll suit her. Anyhow she treated me well and put me up in the Court for the night as I was passin’ through those years ago and I’d never forgotten it.