5th Brahmarusday of High Autumn, Second Age 1854: We reached the shores of Bri’Inis, a mysterious island on the edges of known land steeped in mystery. Yet the scrolls we carry imply there is a connection to the lore of Eraneth’s ancient days. The moment we landed, a band of locals—humans who call themselves Bri'Oir, as I later learned from our conversations—met us with spears drawn, mistaking us for raiders. Their hostility was clear, and I braced for a fight, ready to prove our strength. Aelorna, ever quick, cycled through languages until she hit on Commercho, the trade tongue of Eraneth’s coastal peoples, and calmed the tension with words where I’d have used steel. Once they heard of the Scrolls of Araneth, their demeanor shifted. They escorted us to their chief, a weathered man named Ceann, whose village clung to the shores of Bri’Inis. We presented the scrolls, their ancient script immediately recognizable to the tribe's wise woman, Liath. She spoke of an old prophecy from, claiming the scrolls’ will be returned by "children born of twilight's sorrow". To access the mountain shrine where the scrolls belonged, we had to prove our worth to the untrusting chief by dealing with an aggressive mammoth herd wreaking havoc on their lands. I welcomed the challenge—action speaks louder than any prophecy. The rest of the day passed in the village, where we joined a feast under the starlit sky, the air rich with the scent of roasted fish and spiced roots. I spoke with the locals, particularly their huntress Fia who spoke a little elven, their tales of Bri’Inis’s history and Araneth’s lingering influence fueling my drive to move forward. The mammoth hunt awaits, and I’m eager to tackle it, to show these humans what we’re made of and secure our place in their prophecy.