Over the past few hours Orc movement has died down significantly in the mountain peaks, the pilgrimage ends as we enter, perhaps, the calm before the storm…

Those who venture westward from Eveningstar on the road to Collinwood are confronted with a hideous scene, the remains of several Orcs and Kobolds that seem to have died in the grip of abject terror, not a mark upon their crumpled bodies as they lie rotting in the fields.

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Farmers to the West of Arabel who ventured out to tend to their crops early one morning were met with a shocking scene: entire fields had been overturned as if a violent struggle had taken place. However, it wasn’t just the trampled earth and their crops that sent shivers down their spines; a strange mixture of blood soaked into the soil, mingling with what appeared to be remnants of charred remains scattered throughout the fields.

As rumours spread, farmers described a heavy, acrid stench that lingered in the air, reminiscent of burnt flesh. Theories are running rampant, from wild animal attacks to dark rituals conducted by secretive cults, but no one can explain how such a gruesome scene had unfolded so close to home. Some favour purging the fields, fearing diseases. Whilst others dare not anger whatever it may have been that brought such amounts of blood and death.

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There are whispers circulating around Arabel that a series of peculiar freak accidents have been occurring during the night. Locals say that in the dead of night, mysterious phenomena seem to unfold, from lampposts inexplicably toppling over as a guard passes by to garden statues found smashed into pieces without a sound of the occurrence.

Some claim to have seen strange shadows slithering in the dark, casting an eerie gloom over the alleyways, while others report hearing unsettling noises that echo through the quiet streets, leading to a sense of unease among the residents. In hushed tones, common folk are beginning to wonder if they should take extra precautions or if it’s simply all a load of nonsense. Whatever the case may be, the nighttime air in Arabel is thick with a mix of fear and curiosity.

Gossip abound in the taverns that new adventurers arriving, many blessed with striking looks and impeccably groomed appearances. These charming individuals, with a twinkle in their eyes, are said to bring joy and delightful company, enchanting all who cross their paths. And a certain Sunite and his "ward", are most keen to meet them!

Weary wanderers murmurs soft tales in the wind, words of those seeking refuge from fierce storms and lurking beasts, having stumbled upon small stone markers hidden in the wilderness. These mysterious stones are said to guide the lost to safety, their origins shrouded and unknown.

The Arcane Guild continues its rigorous registration process for arcanists capable of casting third circle spells and above. Those familiar with the situation assert that every practitioner of any arcane skill is being urged, or perhaps even coerced, into declaring themselves to the authorities in accordance with the law.

Furthermore, the Guild is reported to be dispatching a steady stream of messages, rallying support as they venture into the farthest reaches of the Kingdom of Arabel. Some believe this frantic pursuit of knowledge is simply a quest for enlightenment, while others fear it could be a prelude to something darker. After all, in a land sustained by magic, the greater the power one wields, the deeper the shadows it casts.

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Rumours are circulating in the downtrodden taverns of Arabel, stirring both unease and curiosity among the locals. It seems that the once brazen criminals and heretics now face a reckoning at the hands of the Arbiters. Reports indicate that these enforcers of law, cloaked in authority, have been conducting well planned operations resulting in swift justice. Some speculate a hidden network of informants, closely tied to the adventurers, aids this relentless pursuit.

Conversations brim with tales of the condemned, with some claiming the restless spirits of wrongdoers haunt the very places where their lives ended. “Be careful with your words,” warns a nervous innkeeper. “The Arbiters are always watching, and dissent is punished harshly.”

Yet, beyond the Arbiters’ vigilant eye lies a realm untouched by their purging light: the dark alleys and outskirts of the city. Here, shadows gather, emboldening those who offer heretical sacrifices under the cover of night, trading fear for the allure of forbidden power. As the Arbiters tighten their grip, these outlying fields become sanctuaries for the disillusioned. For every name claimed by their swift justice, two more rise from the city's darker corners, seeking guidance in the shadows.

Thus, while the Arbiters patrol the heart of Arabel, the hidden alleys and secret fields thrive with a life of their own, a simmering undercurrent of heretical intent that may one day challenge the very foundations of law and order they uphold. Those who navigate these shadowy spaces know they are beyond judgment, shielded in darkness, at least for now.