Editing Stranded in fantasy (section)

==Journal Entry 312==

We've been moved in with the mercenary corps.  A big series of tents on the south side of the city.  There's about five thousand or so here I believe, most of them Wolflake refugees.  Quite a lot of Orcs, goblins, wild elves and some shifters mixed with random adventurers and sellswords.  No standardized gear for us.  We have to supply everything but tents, beds and meals.  I have noticed that even the guard are now using primitive stirrups on their horses.  Looks like someone was quick to recognize their usefulness and copied them.  I hung around with Ian and Jason and watched the militia training with them, using cavalry charges with long spears and horse back archers.  I hope they realize that the arrows aren't going to stop the undead unless they're going to have them all blessed.  Speaking of that, Avery ran off to the local sunchurch branch and has been doing her thing.  From what I've felt, they're not as bad as the Aeyllin or Wolflake branch were apparently, but needed work according to her thoughts.  I don't know why she feels the need to do this though.  Last I heard, the gods of this place don't really care what you do in their name.  Maybe she's hoping to change that, or maybe she already has.