And now the News from the Hill Cantons...
“Addled”Aldo, that most insane of caravel captains, is booking “leisure tours” of the so-called Misty Isles of the Eld in the Persimmon Sea. “Hoi'i, the many-tongued, copper-toned, devil-patron of self-promotion and real estate, called to me in a dream most vivid,” Aldo added as way of explanation. “Take ye this link. It explains all, yar.”
The sudden sharp shock of the so-called Red Rye Rebellion is rocking Ostrovo Canton. Armed bands of peasants, sporting red rye badges, have been gathering through the villages and “halushkying” (a time-honored traditional humiliation of dipping a public official in white gravy and then spreading curds and dumplings on them) tax collectors of the Overking. Special assessments levied to support the continued presence of the Black Army in the canton have not been worn well by tenant farmers already suffering from the privations of the recent kozak horde sacking of the area. “The peasants are revolting,” stated an anonymous source close to the cantonal council.
Fomo, the rooster-headed skald is again touring the frontier holdings of the Feral Shore. A rather cryptic ballad is proving to be a widely-requested song among rough laborers. Make of it what you will:
No one dares
tooo sip from the sweet naughty hairs
that give air
tooo swimming down theres.
A fabulous artifact prize
a rod piece that lies.
Below the waves of a city drowned
a city drowned.
Perhaps an allusion to the underwater ruins east of Kezmarok? Hard saying, not knowing.