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Kilded’s journal – Candidate 5118 IMT

Icemule Mayoral Candidate Kilded makes a journal entry and outlines a plan for his run at the office.

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Category: Towns
Topic: Icemule Trace

Date: 05/27/2018 07:48 AM CDT
From: JELL01
Subj: Kilded comes home after a long weekend and pens a journal entry
Kilded walks up to his cedar cabin with forest green trim tucked into the woods south of Icemule Trace. He gazes up at the cloud-filled skies covering the ground with snow. He glances around before reaching into his boot to produce a carved rhimar key on a silver chain. He unlocks the door with a delicate “click” and swings it open and walks inside — shutting out the cold behind him.

Inside, Kilded removes his heavy wool long cloak and hangs it on one of the wooden pegs next to the door. He sits on the cozy bearskin rug on the floor and removes his boots one at a time, letting out a sigh of relief with each one. It’s not typical for a wood elf to wear shoes — they’re used to climbing in the trees and trapsing through the forest with abandon. Not typical, no … but here, it’s too cold and dangerous to go without boots. You risk losing a foot to frostbite or slipping off the side of the cliff on Aenatumgana.

Once he is free of his wet and cold outergarments he grabs some sticks and starts a fire in his cast iron stove. The glow of the light and the warmth is quite welcome on this cold and snowy night. He tiredly walks over to his table and grabs a candle, lighting it on the stove. He walks back over and sits down on the bench.

On the table is a worn leather bound journal with a quill and some ink. He unties the leather strap holding the book closed and flips it open to a new page. He picks up a quill, dabs it in the ink, and begins writing….

> 27 Ivastaen, 5118

> It has barely been a week since the signboard went up in Town Center announcing the race for mayor. From the moment I saw this sign I knew I had to try to win. There is so many great things about Icemule — but also so many that could be improved. Every day more bandits surround the town. Every day the trolls and orcs grow closer. Every day that Queen makes her presence known to us. Children are running away and dying in the forests — I have witnessed some of them perish with my own eyes. It is heartbreaking.

> Icemule needs me. Icemule needs a strong leader to keep her from falling into the hands of evil.

> Just two days ago, when we were celebrating the mayoral elections in front of Clovertooth, you could see some shady characters in the crowd. Amongst the throngs of townspeople were shifting eyes and dark, shrouded faces. Is it the Far Market? Is it the Queen’s spies? We need to get to the bottom of it, and we need to do it quickly.

> I was thankful to finally meet my competition at this gathering. It’s an honor to run with Joskin, Neovik, Tawariell and Sabotage — all well known names in this town. Tawariell is an officer in my beloved White Haven for goodness sakes — how can I possibly hope to get more votes than her!?

Kilded puts down the quill and closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and exhaling deeplyn while frustratedly running his hands through his white hair. After he appears more calm, he picks up the quill and continues.

> Just yesterday monsters invaded the town. We had golems exploding in the streets and people running for their lives. Foul undead things hovering around and causing mayhem. I saw a group of children huddled in the doorway of the bakery, heads down and crying. People were scared for their lives – and what’s worse — the deputy is still absent this morning! It’s a scene of lawlessness in town with unsavory folks of all types going from shadow to shadow, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

> I must clean up this town, I must win the mayoral race for the good of Icemule. This cannot continue — I love this town too much.

Kilded looks over what he just wrote – nodding slowly as he does. After a moment, he puts his quill away and closes his journal. He ties up the leather strap holding it shut and slides it across the mosaic tabletop. As he stands up he blows out the candle on the table.

Kilded walks over to his hammock and crawls in, pulling an old blanket over him as he does. Soon — all is quiet in the cabin and all you can hear is the faint breathing of Kilded, asleep.

 

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