Dear Journal,
Forgive my negligence. It has been days since I last wrote. Preparation for tomorrow's battle has stolen all of my time, and the expected thrill has held my thought captive.
For much of the first week, I spent morning in the mushroom and cave moss gardens, speaking the ancient words taught to me by Gunt Orcsmasher, cleric of Avandra. These incantations were words lost long ago to commune with the natural spirits. Elwoz is pleased that I am speaking with the earth as he does. I believe I am beginning to understand him better. He claims it is Stoneroot, spirit of a once mighty mountain from a time before the Dawn Wars. I can only say the voices within the stone coaxed the growth of the bounty of food accumulated over that time.
For most of the mornings I attempted to help out where I could. First it was speaking with the stone to replenish the dwarves' rations. After that, I spent a few days in the apothecary's shop, cleansing a previously undetected taint from the crates of healing elixirs donated to the cause. And finally I spent time in the library, reading dwarven texts, with the help of Diesa's magical spectacles which turned the blockish dwarven words into beautifully dancing elven script right before my eyes. Using knowledge gained from my studies, I was able to assist in battle preparations more directly.
I read of a battle several hundred years ago in a land called Nam, where the victors used specially designed caltrops to slow the charging forces of their enemies, causing them to stumble and trip over each other as they charged the battlefield. Over the span of two days, I had worked with several dwarven engineers and blacksmiths to design and forge these weapons to spread about the mouth of the mountain pass. Another trick I read was in a book on psychological warfare. Our enemies think the dwarves to have very few numbers, so I assisted our allies in creating, from straw and cloth, facimilies of soldiers of various backgrounds. Dragonborn, human, and dwarf dummies were placed in strategic locations about the fortress, visible from a distance. This would lower the morale of the advancing army until they were close enough to discern our charade.
In the afternoons and evenings, we trained with Corath, who suggested Alyana, Without, and I join the artillery forces atop the towers. As we ran drills and devised strategy atop the towers, the dwarves had to accept that Without should follow his own plan, for his affliction pays no heed to strategy. Meanwhile, Talos and Diesa prepared to defend the gates below. Talos, with his vast military knowledge, devised a plan to dig hidden trenches in the pass before the gate to slow the advancement of troops even more. Elwoz, no doubt under Getty's guidance, and his legion of spirit friends would operate in the command center, guiding troops where they were needed.
Elwoz and Diesa were outrageously successful in their treatment of the sick dwarves. All 400 soldiers had made a full recovery and were training with Corath within days. Successful, too, were Alyana, Without, and Talos, whose perilous flight to Northwarden may prove to be the saving grace of Moraldrum. Battling storms which put our previous trek to shame, a few dwarven soldiers were lost, but they pressed on and reached Northwarden with time to spare. Stovokor sent back with them 100 men, including one of his top commanders to help coordinate between the two armies. Stovokor and his remaining force are marching upon Moraldrum as well with an additional 400 men. Corath claims Dreknar's numbers dwarf ours. (Pardon the pun.) However, he is quick to point out our advantageous positioning and preparation.
Most details of these two weeks have been lost in the blur and excitement of our training and preparation. I had not given thought to you, Journal, since my allies set sail for Northwarden. I have only now been given the opportunity to rest as I prepare my gear for tomorrow's battle. The dwarves say they can hear the approaching army in the stone. I trust their relationship with this land. To raise morale and let the approaching army know they are strong, they now beat drums, slap stones with their hammers, forge weapons for the sake of the noise, and drink! Oh, how they drink!
Tonight is a holy night! I shall take my leave now, Journal, to celebrate and sing with my allies. For the light of Corellon dwells within me, and tomorrow that light will cast down its judgement upon the forces of Dreknar, whos unholy alliances and attempts to undermine the natural order of this plane have damned them all to suffer the vengence of the gods. I do not plead for the blessings of the Divine tonight, Journal. I, instead, bear witness to them and proclaim this message as a warning to all who stand against us. Woe be unto those who bear their weapons against the hallowed blades of the 42nd!
