It’s the year X-50. Nowadays folk don’t know the right year no more. It’s 50 years passed the day the Hellmouth belched chaos onto the land. They go abouts their lives like nothing has happened. But if they looked a little harder around them they’d realize everything has happened! Of course, lookin too hard these days makes a perfectly sane man go baccus over night–or gets him mudded in no time.

Here, within the tall glowing walls of Sanctuary though, most wooltails pretend the outside don’t exist. They are perfectly happy going abouts life, all safe-like, under the protection of Celeste and her tin soldiers.

I, for one, was born to travel since the year I was birthed. I was meant to see new things, and meet new peoples. I prepared myself for this day since X-45. It was safe enough in these lands, all the mephs pretty much stayed west. There are towns out there, days of travel away, poor drifters they are.

I was meant to change things, and I will today prove to the wooltails that there is no purpose in living blindly behind these holy walls. The land is safe again for man to roam and rule it. I will prove this to them, for sureness I will.

The last entry in Jonasi the Ranter’s journal,
found by his scorched corpse 8 miles outside Sanctuary