Empath's log: 8th month of Skullcleaver the Dwarven Axe in the year of the Iron Toad

It's been several hours now. A barricade is blocking my passage south through the north gate to Haven. I have met my new neighbors, the Wildland Goblins, and I must say they don't make very good dinner guests. Why on Elanthia did I decide to take a nap in front of the Moon Mage Guild here in Haven?

I hope my fair city of Riverhaven is still intact and I fear for the health of my friends. I can only hope that my dearest friends are surviving this horrible war. I wish I could be there to help save them from this tragedy.

I have taken refuge within the Moon Mage spire here. It's a little damp but my riding cloak is keeping me warm. Unfortunately, to my poorer judgement, I left my cigar box in my vault and am without the comfort of my smokes. But alas, I am down to a mere 9 tarts and hope that they will sustain me until the end of this war. Hodierna forbid I have to forage up my next meal for then I will be forced to feast on fir sticks and grungy feathers.

A kind Moonie named Eppik has graciously donated the cutest mole marionette for me to pass the time with.

I've studied enough origami to fold this message into a flying contraption I call simply, a "flying contraption." If you have found it, please know that I'm am well and am with good company.

With highest regards,

~Moonpath Xandesa~