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I know, I know: there is a web on this log. Do not fret: I have searched high and low and have not found any spiders.

Please, have a seat. Let us trade stories of adventure and excitement! Let us ruminate on the world around us, and even life itself. No topic is sacred, no issue forbidden.

Come, let us learn something new from each other.

Dazyk's log, moon date Rova the 11th, in the year 4714 AR.

Another moon approaches its zenith as I sit here on this log, next to my blazing fire. The wind carries with it a northerly chill, whispering promises of a hard winter on its way. I try not to listen. It is difficult to imagine a hard winter--or any winter at all--when everything is still so beautiful right now. The days are still hot, and the leaves have only just begun to change colour on the trees, painting a beautiful collage on the canopy of the world. But oh, how deceitful it can be, this wondrous world of ours. For if we remove that beautiful portrait from in front of our eyes, we will surely see the truth: that Fall is like the legendary Queen Amadiaze. A beautiful, mesmerizing figure hiding the hideously decayed and fetid corpse of of a lich.

Because Winter is a lich, of that I am certain. The most powerful lich can drain you of your very life-force, but even they are no match for Winter. Not only can its touch freeze you to the bone, it can drain you of your will to live. I have seen it. I have felt it.

So, how do you fight it? How do you fight back against a force that is stronger than the strongest lich? How do you fight back against the ages-old, raw power of nature? Well, first, expect it and prepare for it. But most importantly, do not fear it. Instead, respect it.

I am reminded of Wilon, who did not fear or respect the devastating might of nature. He has yet to return from his gold digging venture in the mountain passes far north. How long has it been now? Three years? No, it must be at least four... Likely I will never see him again. Pity.

And thus do I remember to maintain a healthy respect for it. I do not fear it; but I do respect it.

The callous wind laughs derisively in my ear.