shoogharashk

[shoogharashk]

1 March 3998

At sunrise this morning, we awoke to find Throckmorton and Hyla had done some investigating of their own during the night. They had gone down to the docks and asked the dockworkers about anything unusual happening lately, but hadn’t had much luck. The dockworkers had directed them to the Naval Guard to ask about any missing persons. They had also gone by Shylock’s shop and found it closed, but noticed there had been a great deal more foot traffic there since Throckmorton, Thea and I had gone during the day yesterday.

While stopping at the bar for coffee, I inquired of the gnomish bartender whether he knew the halfling woman who had come in with Sullivan last night. At the name Bettencourt, he called for his boss, the owner of the winery, who came down and revealed himself to be a full orc named Brogdon. He shared a look with Throckmorton (not too many full orcs out there that make their livings within the bounds of mainstream society) before moving on to our question. He knew Bettencourt (first name Ada) to be the guard captain’s assistant at the naval outpost. Between this and the dockworkers’ suggestion to see the Naval Guard with any questions about missing persons, that seemed to be our next direction. Perhaps we could inquire there about Maddock, using our status as Sullivan’s employees to persuade them to provide information on the fugitive’s last known location.

Hyla, however, insisted that she and Pallabar needed a “haircut” (I have learned that the hair on humanoids’ heads needs regular grooming with scissors, ugh, the thought is still unnerving to me) and would try to get some rumors from the barbershop. This is apparently a thing...trading casual gossip with someone who wields scissors inches from your head. Barbaric.

While they went for their “haircuts,” the remainder of our crew headed for the naval offices. We dropped Sullivan’s name to get in to meet Ms. Bettencourt, and our attempts to get some information on Maddock’s apartment ended a bit awkwardly, with Ada, the chief investigator Teri, and several of the guards accompanying us to search the apartment again. They had already done so last night, apparently, but conceded that perhaps we could find something they did not. They mentioned his roommate would not be happy.

His roommate, we soon learned, was none other than Shylock! Who was, indeed, not at all happy about this intrusion. If we need anything else from that shop later, we shall have to send Hyla and Pallabar; the three of us are, I believe, banned now. Maddock’s room was a bit dusty, but well adorned. The walls were covered with maps of various areas of Atron, including many of Greentide but also including trade routes that involve Emryn, Aralyn, and Arcanum. Both sea and land routes were well represented. The trick now would be finding what we needed without alerting the guards. A quick glance in his desk revealed little to Thea and I, but Throckmorton found and pocketed a few papers that he later revealed to us to be treasure maps. Adventures for another day!

I noticed a few scuff marks near a mirror and dresser/washbin, and sent a quick Message to Thea asking her to distract the guards if possible while I investigated. As she helped Teri search under some floorboards, I moved the mirror aside and grabbed a few papers in a hole in the wall behind it. I took only the swiftest glance at them to prevent the guards from seeing, but later found them to be a map of the River Dauntless (with a large X hopefully indicating the fountain?), some letters from Clever confirming their partnership and thanking Maddock for obtaining the dwarven pitcher, and a (cashed) note of credit in Clever’s name for 7,000 gold. There was also a receipt from a smith named Brightcopper, whose forgemark he signed with matched that from the pitcher, thanking Maddock for his business but expressing questions as to what this pitcher was for. After we apologized to the guards for wasting their time with a fruitless second search, we departed with these items concealed. This was the evidence we needed to start our search for the Fountain. Perhaps the smith in Brother Heights is a lead we can explore at another time as well.

We met again with Hyla and Pallabar, whose hair looked approximately the same as when we had separated, with the exception of Pallabar’s beard looking freshly combed. They said they had really only managed to learn that the forests were dangerous, and also that they were now banned from Beau Jangles’ barbershop. I did not inquire further. These practices are still so strange to me.

On our way out of town, we encountered a construction site for a temple around a mausoleum. This, at first, was of little interest, until we noticed live sea creatures (corals, barnacles, etc) growing on the mausoleum, well away from the ocean! We learned from the cleric there, Solea, that the mausoleum housed a recently deceased human man named Yandy, a great and well-esteemed sailor who had claimed to have power over the sea, and whom, they were realizing after his death, may have been right. The growth of the sea creatures on his tomb, Solea explained, is a divine sign that he did indeed have a godly connection to the ocean. She has since begun to worship him, and is building a temple on his gravesite and attempting to get permission from the city to construct a canal to connect the temple to the ocean. Thea had many questions for her, including about a mark on Yandy’s neck that he claimed helped him tame the wind and waves. A small dragon statue also interested me, and Solea said that he often left offerings to the coastal dragons (like the ones who warned us of the storm on our last day at sea). An intriguing little scene indeed, and Thea in particular seemed to leave deep in thought.

We are now making our way out towards the forest, so I will set down my pen and continue this later, perhaps tonight or tomorrow.

-NS

[shoogharashk]

30 February 3988

Our story continues! We arrived this morning in the nation of Greentide, in one of their northernmost towns of Port Reice. Upon our arrival, Pog advised us that Sullivan was coming to meet us in person that evening with additional information about one of our leads here. He would meet us at The K’Orc Room, an inn and winery on the cliffs north of town. Sullivan had also paid for lodging there for us for the night.

Port Reice was hidden behind a long key island that buffered the view of the city from the sea. There were low buildings that basically disappeared behind the palm forest on the key, which had an intriguing mixture of families playing on the bayside beach and formidable naval defences including a row of scorpions pointed inland -- presumably to quickly dispatch any enemy vessels that found their way into the bay.

As we docked, Isolt pulled us aside and said that while they are getting used to Garnet’s presence, she and Augmak didn’t trust her to wander yet. Garnet seemed quite disappointed, but agreed to stay in her humanoid form on the ship while the rest of us disembarked. I privately offered to take her along in my pack in her true form, but she refused, saying that she wanted to be trusted and would do as asked.

We disembarked and began to explore the town. A large statue of a human woman ripping a pirate flag in half was explained to me as being of Reice, the town’s namesake and folk hero, who was best known for single-handedly defeating an invasion of over fifty pirates. The dwarf who told me the story didn’t seem to know many details, but I’ll certainly keep my ears open for more information as she sounds quite fascinating. We visited a couple of shops -- the first was Tik Tok’s Timely Arcane Armory offered custom ordering of magical items, with dwarven, gnomish, and goblin craftsmanship and optional delivery by a rather formidable-looking mechanical eagle. The second was a rather shady looking pawn shop run by a fellow called Shylock. He had a number of mysterious items, the majority of which were well out of my price range, but Thea picked up a nice pair of boots that were completely silent on her feet! Will be nice for any sneaking around that needs done. Throckmorton also stopped in there after we did and picked up a small feather token.

Interestingly, the gang of miscreants that gave us trouble in Glory Fall seems to have a presence here. Wanted posters around the town suggest they’ve been responsible for a number of muggings in the area, and showed the same symbol I’d previously noticed on their rings. They are apparently known as the Red Oyster Cult. A reward was offered for a thousand gold pieces in exchange for information leading to an arrest, so we will have to see if we see any further signs of them here.

As sunset approached, we made our way towards The K’Orc Room. A main kitchen/tavern building in the front of the property was dwarfed by the large outdoor bar area in the back with several cabanas and a central bar. Strange lizards whose throat sacs glowed in the dark filled the trees between the tavern and the outdoor area, which fascinated Hyla, and she nearly got her nose bitten off by a lizard who was not amused by her staring and note-taking. I picked up a glass of wine from the bar and was quickly distracted by the band performing.

The band called themselves the Three Scales, and they were composed of a high elf playing a gold-stringed fiddle, a rock gnome playing a little copper finger-harp, and a dwarf with a sparkling silver drum. Their instruments and clothes were clearly quite fine and ornate, which initially caught my eye from across the bar before I could even properly hear them. But when I could. Oh, when I could. My dear friend. They were singing. In. Draconic. I have NEVER heard another bard do this, and their approximation of dragonsong was quite remarkable for beings without the appropriate physiology. I was utterly captivated, and completely lost track of time for a while until well after dark when I saw Pog and Sullivan making their way into the bar.

The two were accompanied by a halfling woman, and I heard a brief discussion in which the woman (who Sullivan called Bettencourt) thanked him for alerting her to information about a fugitive who was hiding in their town, and said she’d keep his apartment under watch in case he returns. She quickly departed without joining our table, and Sullivan sat down at the cabana we had selected. He inquired about our well-being, and about the incident in Marspeck with the necromancer. We gave him a quick synopsis, and him being a well-connected fellow, I asked if he’d heard of the Apocryphage, the group that the necromancer had aspired to join. He advised he hadn’t, which was a disappointment, but hopefully we will hear no more of them regardless.

Sullivan advised us that he’d learned more about Amell Maddock, the smuggler mentioned in Clever’s diaries. He was a former law officer in Emryn, and had fled his post years ago to join his “found family” here. He used his former skills and contacts to become a smuggler and information broker here. He is a wanted man back in Emryn. He said while he had found this information while digging into the name, he didn’t have any further information on Amell’s current location.

Our mission, he said, remains the same. Track down the location of the Fountain of Youth mentioned in Clever’s journals, and bring back whatever we can -- its location, more of the water, evidence of it or even of what causes the fountain’s power. It was during this discussion that he directed our attention back to the bards. They were singing, still in Draconic, but now a song that spoke of the Fountain -- a wellspring in a cave behind a waterfall, where eternal youth was granted for a terrible price. He then left us to our evening, saying he’d be staying at the local embassy if we needed him for anything.

As the band wrapped up their performance and were packing up for the evening, before we turned in for the night, I introduced myself and (quite embarrassingly) gushed for a moment about the rarity of encountering fellow speakers of my native tongue. The elf was called Pascal, the gnome Cabarot, and the dwarf Mogrem. They said they’d learned from a male copper dragon who had stayed at their bard college for a year, and they had learned the song about the Fountain there. While they assured me that it is quite real, and is a place where seekers of the fountain face great trials and must test their resolve against the water itself or never be heard from again, they admitted that they’d never actually heard of anyone coming back from seeking it. However, they also were confident that the fountain was located just upriver from this very town, deep in the jungles and along the cliffs by the River Dauntless. They mentioned several adventurers, after hearing their song, had gone in search of the Fountain and not returned.

Throckmorton made a quick trip back into town to check the local historical records, and did find a pattern of a number of adventurers (not many, maybe half a dozen in the last century, though three were in the last 20 years or so) which had stayed at the K’Orc Room, and who had later disappeared into the forests upriver and never been heard from again.

This will certainly be worth investigating in the morning. However, it is nearly midnight and time for rest. We will continue our search at sunrise.

-NS

[shoogharashk]

29 February 3998

A most wonderful day filled with mystery and excitement! We departed from Marspeck on the morning of the 21st, and are yet still at sea but are only about a day and out from our destination of Port Reice, quite near to my home in relative terms. We have all been further instructed in sailing, and spent some time as well training on our own while the seas were calm. But today, the air felt ill, and our dear captain’s fears were confirmed when one of my bronze kinsmen soared overhead, shouting out a warning of an oncoming storm and warning all dragons to take shelter inland. 

He was probably not expecting to hear thanks shouted in Draconic from a vessel below, but it seemed only polite. 

We pulled the Winchester into a small cove where we tied down and went below decks to ride out the storm. Augmak made to help Cap prepare the ship, but she told him to take cover below, referring to him as “Anchor” (something I shall have to remember to ask him about later). After securing the ship, we each retreated to our own quarters, but there, we found some of our belongings had disappeared. The stunning garnet that I had picked up in Clever’s home was gone, along with some mint from Pallabar’s supplies and one of Clever’s journals he had been holding onto. Hyla was missing a fine comb, Belfyr a pair of scissors, and Throckmorton an effigy of Kyper that he had stowed away from the temple in Camden Rock. 

Nearly all in our party were missing something...but we weren’t sure who could be to blame. Cap was still on the top deck, keeping an eye on the storm. Augmak was in his own quarters near the stern (though oddly, he mentioned seeing Pallabar come out of his room earlier, when we had all been together above deck). Pog was nowhere to be found. While I would normally protest against the horrible stereotyping of goblins as thieves...we certainly did not know Pog well enough yet to rule it out, and his absence was concerning. Thea was the only one among our party who had not lost anything, but the thought of her being the thief seemed, frankly, absurd. It was not in her character.

We soon found Pog in a storeroom, near a bag of wheat torn open, with some rat prints in the dust. He was sound asleep, and certainly did not seem to possess our missing belongings. As we explored the crew deck, we came across Mr. Mugglesworth, in a state of complete delight and playfulness, and Pallabar’s donkey Murphy, looking very freshly groomed and proper with a neatly trimmed mane. They seemed to be the only ones who could offer us any insight, and fortunately, Hyla had a spell for that. After a few minutes, she was able to converse with the both of them. Mr. Mugglesworth had been gifted some of Pallabar’s mint, which explained his odd mental state, but he was insistent that Hyla had been the one to do so. Similarly, Murphy attributed his dashing new good looks to Hyla as well. Hyla had been with us the whole time!

Finally, we made our way into Thea’s room, and were startled to find the missing items there! The comb and scissors, with a touch of donkey hair, were both on her desk; the effigy and journal sat on the floor. The gem sat in the middle of the bed. We were flabbergasted. Thea?! She had been with us all along, how could she have...and then the gem transformed into a tiny translucent red bird and flew out the door! 

Now things were getting really interesting!

Grabbing an empty jar, we managed to chase down the bird, which then transformed into a mouse, but we were able to capture it in the jar. It was clearly no ordinary stone. Hyla attempted to speak to it in the tongue of beasts, but it responded in the common speech! When we released it, we were startled to see it transform into a young woman that appeared to be an amalgamation of our whole group. Olive-grayish skin like Throckmorton, tiny copper horns like mine, pointed ears like Hyla and Pallabar, about four and a half feet in height, moderate between us all. Her eyes were a bright red, and her hair the color of a rich merlot. 

We asked her name, but she said she didn’t really have one. She claimed to be Clever’s assistant, mentioned in his journals, who had been created by him through his alchemical experiments. She took care of his house whenever he traveled, and helped him with his experiments whenever needed. After Clever’s long absence, when we had entered his home, she took a chance by drawing attention to herself so that we might take her along. While the garnet itself was her true form, she was choosing to take a form that resembled us, as she had grown fond of us, observing us over the last week. She had taken Pallabar’s form to grab the items from our cabins, and Hyla’s to give Mr. Mugglesworth the mint and brush Murphy. While her enthusiasm to play with the animals had gotten her discovered, she realized the jig was up and that it was time to introduce herself to the team. 

While I am frankly delighted to have this fascinating new member of our team, Cap is less enthusiastic about the idea that we not only have had a stowaway this whole time, but that we intend to let her stay with us. She has asked all of us, but especially Pog and Augmak, to keep an eye on her. I, for one, am eager to learn from her. How intriguing...a life form that takes the form of a gem, created by our mysterious friend Clever. Alchemy certainly has greater potential than I ever realized. 

Tomorrow we should arrive in Port Reice, where we can continue our investigations into the origins of this strange water that Clever has discovered, which freezes the drinker in amber and which Sullivan believes is linked to the pursuit of immortality. All we know so far is that the pitcher was made in Brother Heights, in Landfall Crag, but that Clever seemingly recovered both it and the water here in Greentide. Hopefully we will find some more leads here. More to come soon. 

-NS

[shoogharashk]

20 February 3998

Today, after just over two days at sea and some on-the-job sailing training from Augmak and Isolt, we arrived in the tiny sea town of Marspeck on the north coast of Camden Rock. Augmak and Belfyr went to the market to resupply and left the five of us to regain our land legs and explore the town for the evening, telling us that we would set out for the destination of our choice in the morning. 

As we disembarked, I could immediately see that this place was built for those closer to Thea or Pallabar’s size than to mine. While most of the population appeared to be halflings, we also spotted a wood-elf, who stood out among the rest of the crowd. He was burdened with a backpack that seemed at least twice his size, with pots and pans and other goods strapped to the outside. Forgetting myself for a moment, I rushed to his side to see if he needed assistance, but my appearance, as I should have expected, was quite startling to the man. He quickly realized that we were new in town, however, and introduced himself as Weedle, a traveling merchant. Weedle unrolled a blanket filled with his wares, and we were presented with a spread including apples, sausages, a saddle, and two swords. One was clearly quite aged and average-looking, but the other was clearly a masterwork item: a shortsword, pristine and gleaming, with runes faintly carved into the blade. 

It was, alas, far out of the price range of even all of us combined. Or so I thought! I was feeling a bit hungry and the sausages were calling my name, so I purchased those, and when Weedle asked if we had anything to sell, I paused. While I had desperately wanted to keep the fine garnet we had picked up in Clever’s house for myself, it clearly had great value and it would not be right to withhold that from the group. Besides, we needed a proper appraisal on it, and Weedle did not seem the type to be an expert in that subject. I did, however, remember the collection of beetle carapaces, and pulled them out of my pack. 

Weedle promptly fell over.

Several of us made to catch him, but it was too late - he crashed all the way to the ground! But he quickly stood back up, recovered from his shock, and told us that we could have the lot of it, the apples, the saddle, the old sword and even the one he had called the Mystic Sword, in exchange for those beetles. This was a far better deal than I had expected we would get for them, and we readily agreed. Throckmorton took the sword to try and attune to whatever properties the runes provided. And with that, Weedle packed up and wandered off, entranced by the carapaces, barely giving a second glance our way.

Pallabar went off to sell some of his spices in the town square, and the rest of us, unsure what else to do, followed. There, a local farmer started lamenting about his missing sheep and goats, and I could feel my frill raising slightly. I was not about to get accused of eating a farmer’s lost sheep and thrown in a small-town jail again, especially not in front of my new friends! Five times have been more than enough. I spotted a tavern, the “Schooner Or Later”, which was advertising a band called Mixed Herbs. I am, of course, never one to miss a musical performance, so I headed over and ducked my head through the door. 

The room briefly grew quiet as I entered, but the mildly intoxicated crowd quickly adjusted and returned to its revelry. I ordered an ale, delivered in a small mug about the size of a coffee cup, and I was immediately captivated to see the Mixed Herbs warming up. They were two halflings - one holding a sort of lyra, and the other with something superficially resembling a bagpipe, but the bag appeared to be an entire goatskin, and the pipe was carved roughly from wood. It was one of the most interesting instruments I had ever seen and I absolutely had to learn more.

As I approached, however, I could see that the pipe player was distressed, and it was clearly not pre-performance jitters. He was tapping his hands anxiously on his instrument and it seemed that his mind was on another plane. My sudden appearance did not help his nerves, unfortunately, and he started to see me approach. I waved at the bartender to bring him an ale and introduced myself, showing my fiddle and assuring him I was a fellow man of the arts. This calmed him, and I had to ask what was upsetting him so. 

He introduced himself as Garbo Sawgrass, and his partner as Talbot Duckweed. He said he was worried about his sister Cerita, who was supposed to arrive in this town a week ago and who always wrote to him regularly, but hadn’t done so and hadn’t been seen in town. The only place he had yet to ask was at the temple, but he was having a hard time bringing himself to ask after her there. I asked him why, and he said the temple was dedicated to a god of death, and to preparing the dead for the afterlife. “It worries me more,” he said, “that they will know somethin’, than that they won’t.”

Certainly understandable. I was immediately compelled to help my fellow artist, and told him that I would ask after his sister at the temple. Tipping back the rest of my ale, I alerted my companions of Garbo’s predicament, and they agreed to join me in checking at the temple. As we walked up the hill to the temple, there were stakes along the road, either carved or with notes attached, with well-wishings and prayers for the dead or lost at sea. The wooden doors were carved with the face of a male halfling and five stars around him. I opened the doors to find rows of pews, and a priest at the head of the room. An altar was surrounded by five busts of animals in profile - two birds, a dog, a cat, and a shark, all with menacing expressions. As the priest noticed us, he quickly closed the book he was reading and pushed it behind him on the altar.

“H-hello!” he said, seemingly startled to see us, though I have become largely used to giving a poor first impression. “My name is Brother Casper. Can...can I help you with anything? Are you here for anyone?”

“Actually, yes,” I replied. “We’re new in town, but I just met a new friend whose sister has gone missing. Young halfling lass called Cerita. She would have only just come into town last week. Have you seen her, or…” I paused, knowing the answer could be uncomfortable, but knew I had to press on, “have you had any...any deaths of strangers in town recently?”

Casper grew immediately and obviously tense. “I…no, no one, no deaths recently! Haven’t seen her, sorry!” 

We all looked at each other. The priest was a bad liar. I stepped closer, and he tried to step back but the altar prevented him from getting far. “It’s ok, you can tell me. Where is she?”

Again, Casper hesitated, before fidgeting with the pages of the book behind him. “I...I’m telling you, I don’t know what you’re talking about. She’s not here!” He was far too nervous.

“We aren’t here to hurt you, Brother Casper, but I need to know where my friend’s sister is. I know you know.” Casper trembled for a moment, then bolted for the door. Unfortunately, we were all in the way, and I snatched him by the arm before he could get far. I was tired of his lies, and grabbed him by the shoulders. He was easy enough to lift off the ground. “Where. Is. She?”

Casper gasped, and started babbling, “She’s...I’m sorry, it’s too late.” “Where is she?”

“She’s...the book...the book is the key…” he said, his eyes darting to the book that he had left on the altar. “The book…” he murmured again before passing out cold. 

Hadn’t quite expected the man to faint outright. I laid him down on the pew, and picked up the book. Quickly, it became clear that a compartment was cut out of the pages, and inside were five stones - one gold, one red, one orange, one black, and one blue. Five stones, it was clear, for five statues, each of which had an empty eye socket.

We took a moment to explore the back part of the temple, to look for any additional clues. The back room appeared to be a morgue, in which we found a poor fellow not too long gone. His throat had been cut. Casper had claimed no one had died here recently, confirming that he was definitely a lying liar who lies. A supply closet and a door outside were the only other exits. We would have to figure out the stones with no extra clues.

We looked more closely at the busts, and Hyla was able to provide some insight. From left to right, there was a bearded vulture, a jackal, a crow, a tiger, and a shark. Some of the colors seemed to be clear connections - blue for the shark, orange for the tiger, black for the crow. The others less so. Hyla, however, recalled that jackals had golden fur, and that bearded vultures were known to bathe in red clay. We slotted the stones into their corresponding statues, and the altar suddenly slid aside to reveal a small spiral staircase headed down. We quickly shackled the still-unconscious Casper, leaving Mr. Mugglesworth to keep an eye on him, and I headed straight down.

At the bottom of the stairs, in front of me was another altar and another set of statues, just like the room above. This room had a much more sinister feel however, which was not helped by the very unnaturally moving goat and ram to the left side of the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a cage against the wall holding two more sheep and a halfling woman laying unmoving on the floor. A second halfling in robes stood there and turned when he heard me approach. 

This was not good. I immediately cast a spell, attempting to paralyze him, but I felt him resist it and yelled for the others to get down here NOW. 

Throckmorton was the first down and he immediately rushed in to join me on the attack against the cleric. I turned to the goat, which appeared on closer examination to be very dead, but that wasn’t stopping it from attacking. Thea was next down the stairs, and the spell that flew from her fingers seemed to have an effect. The cleric and the goat seemed to shudder, and their movements became a little more awkward. Hyla went straight for the ram, with the fierce determination she reserved for crimes against nature. Pallabar brought up the rear with his crossbow. 

The room turned to chaos. I managed a particularly good hit on the goat, and cleaved it in two. Hyla seemed to be handling the ram, so I turned my attention to the halfling. Throckmorton had been taking an attack-and-disengage strategy, alternating attacks with his sword and bolts of a strange necrotic energy with each retreat. Thea was sending her own energy bolts at him, and at one point a bright radiant flame erupted on him. In between, crossbow bolts shot between us at him, but he was skillfully evading many of our attacks. He seemed to shrug off the effects of most of my spells, but he was less successful at avoiding our blades.

He kept reaching out to touch us, and for the most part we were dodging - Thea’s initial spell seemed to be hampering his ability to reach us. I heard a clatter on the other side of the room, and saw suddenly that Hyla had lost both her swords to attacks from the ram, and had cast a spell to tangle it in vines. As I saw this, and briefly wondered if I should turn my attention to the ram, when my blood turned cold, and I realized that the halfling had his hand on my arm. Pain swept through me, and he smiled, a new energy seeming to wash over him. Realizing that Throckmorton was in the “retreat” phase of his attack pattern, and no one else was nearby, I could only think of one way to definitely get him away from me. 

“THUNDER!” I shouted, and a loud boom shook the basement, sending him flying backwards into one of the statues. Throckmorton and Pallabar each got in another attack while he was distracted, and he fell to his knees. On the opposite side of the central altar, the ram suddenly collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and a dark energy seemed to seep out of the cleric’s eyes. We backed away slowly, but a moment later, he floated into the air, and the energy that had been coming from his eyes exploded outwards from him. I seemed to be the only one caught in that blast, but as the chilling necrotic energy struck me, I felt a strange presence, like someone looking into the heart of me. It lasted only a moment, and the cleric fell lifelessly to the floor. 

Immediately I rushed over to him, and found a key in one pocket. The key unlocked the cell, and I rushed to see if Cerita was still with us. Though her pulse was weak, she was, and I stepped back to let Thea work on healing her and avoid frightening her right into the afterlife when she awoke. 

Returning to the cleric, we found a couple of letters in another pocket and stashed them away for later, then headed up another set of stairs that led outside, herding the two terribly frightened but alive sheep ahead of us and supporting a weak, but now conscious Cerita. 

At the top of the stairs, we were met by a crowd of townsfolk including a few guards. The boom of my last spell seemed to have carried all the way down into town. Garbo pushed his way through, shouting for Cerita, and raced over to embrace her and help her away from the ruckus. In the meantime, we had some explaining to do with the local authorities, but given the state of Cerita and the poor fellow in the morgue, it was clear that the head priest had been up to no good. Shouting within the chapel alerted us to the fact that Casper was awake, but Mr. Muggleworth, good kitty that he is, was sitting on him. The guards took him away for questioning, and I remembered the letters, bringing them out for examination. 

They identified the other cleric as Torvin. The first expressed displeasure with him for failing to achieve the results that had been demanded of him, though it was unclear what exactly it was that he had been tasked with. The second, an unsent letter from Torvin in response, assured the other party that he was committed to achieving this goal, and that in fact he was very close and would have results soon. He assured the other person that he was still very interested in joining the Apocryphage, and would get the results they demanded. None of us had heard of the Apocryphage, but it certainly didn’t sound like the local needlepoint club. 

This would be an investigation for later, though. For now, it was time to do the relaxing we had come to town for, so we returned to the Schooner Or Later. Garbo and Talbott, unburdened by the worry over Cerita, had a quite pleasant performance! Perhaps a bit technically rough, but that goat-bagpipe was fascinating to see in action! 

We noticed at one point that Throckmorton had disappeared, and only met back up with him when we returned to the Winchester. He had returned to the temple to investigate further, and had learned that Kyper, the local godling worshipped at this temple, had been a priest that tended to the dead, and he had gained the ability to revive the recently-deceased with much greater ease than even seasoned clerics. Over time, he gained a substantial following, retired, and eventually passed away himself, but none of his followers developed the skills that he had.

Torvin had been contacted by an organization called the Apocryphage, who had told him that a mortal had been imbued with the ability to overcome death. He was to replicate this feat, and he was in significant trouble with them for failing as yet to do so. He had been responsible for recently replacing the statues in the chapel with the intimidating versions that we saw, and Casper, his subordinate, had been concerned about Torvin’s recent practices but didn’t see fit to question his superior. 

This Apocryphage group seems to be after the same thing we have been tasked with -- the pursuit of eternal life. But they are seeking it in a very different way, through necromancy. They don’t seem like folk to tangle with, though I’d be surprised if this is the last we hear of them.

My, look at the time! I should properly have dated this the 21st, with how late it has gotten! We are now off to Greentide, with an eight-day journey at sea ahead of us. Until next time!

-NS

[shoogharashk]

This forgemark was on the pitcher we retrieved from Clever’s house. Sullivan says it belongs to an artisan in Brother Heights, in Landfall Crag.

[shoogharashk]

This symbol was on rings worn by the men we met in Clever’s house

[shoogharashk]

18 February 3998

Last night, I met up again with my new compatriots. I have now learned their names and will record them here, lest I forget any of them as that would be terribly embarrassing:

The gnome: Pallabar, an merchant, alchemist, and artificer

The halfling: Thea, a cleric, of which god or godling I do not yet know

The elf: Hyla, a ranger and druid of Erymbar, and her companion, a large cat named. Mr. Mugglesworth

The orc: Throckmorton, a rogue and thief who told little else of himself

We decided to split up and lay low for the day yesterday. I returned to the Marigold to find my remaining belongings had already been removed from my room,and were unceremoniously thrown in a heap beside the bar. I walked in and Peony, the barmaid, looked at me disdainfully. After the chaos of last night, I knew that my stint performing at this particular inn was definitely over. Sheepishly, I swiped them up and tossed a gold piece her way for the trouble before heading outside of town to make camp for the day. 

I knew word would have spread amongst the guards of our prison break last night, While most of the others could potentially hide among the crowds, and Throckmorton seemed to have skill at hiding beyond the rest of us, my chances of remaining undetected or else being mistaken for some other giant dragon-man were sadly quite low. However, the edge of town wasn’t far, and I quickly found a quiet grove to hunt for lunch and wait out the day.

But to wait! When I knew such adventure awaited in the evening! The day was nearly impossible to bear. 

As the winter sun began to sink over the horizon, I knew it was time to head to the meeting spot. Hyla had informed us all last night of the location of Tavern Number Three, and it wasn’t difficult to locate. A large building bustling with evening traffic. Hyla met me there, and I grabbed an ale before we spotted our contact, the short hooded figure, sitting in a corner booth. For a while, I was unsure if the rest of our companions would show, but soon Pallabar entered with his…...friend? assistant? manservant?.....a half-elf he introduced as Belfyr. Throckmorton followed shortly thereafter. The halfling was nowhere to be found. After a few minutes, we decided we could not wait for her any longer and joined our contact at the table. 

Though his face was not visible under his hood, he seemed distressed to see Belfyr rather than Thea. “Five,” he croaked, “but wrong five!” As though on cue, Thea burst into the room and we waved her over quickly. He looked her over. “Six? Six...ah, six fine.” He then handed Pallabar a letter. In return, Pallabar offered him an ale, which he drank heartily as Pallabar read the letter aloud.

In it, Sullivan congratulated us on our escape and expressed his regret that he could not meet us here himself. He gave us another task - to acquire the research of a man by the name of Clever, who frequented this tavern, and to bring especially one particular object that Sullivan’s employers desired. We were to bring the research and this artifact to the docks, where we would meet a Captain Isolt Taylor and her first mate, Augmak. They would then get us out of Beckryde, and we would gain employment from Sullivan. The letter also introduced our new friend as Pogano and said he too would accompany us out of the city.

As we listened, I noticed Pogano’s hands for the first time. They were gnarled and ended in very familiar-looking claws, and I realized our friend was a goblin. It had been so long since I have conversed with a goblin! While goblin clans were very common near home, in the more “civilized” areas I had recently traveled near the coasts, goblins were few and far between. I knew he was trying to conceal his nature from the patrons, but his grasp of the common speech was shaky at best, and I could not resist quietly speaking to him in his own tongue. “Greetings, friend Pogano! It is wonderful indeed to meet you.”

His eyes widened as he turned to look at me. “Finally, someone well-versed!” he exclaimed, clearly unaccustomed to speaking with others outside his own kind in Goblin. “You understand, yes? Understand the letter? Do as the letter says, meet Pog at the boat. The boat!” I assured Pog we understood, and that we would be seeing him again as soon as we acquired the research of this “Clever.”

Pallabar wasted no time in striking up conversation with the barkeep, a halfling who introduced himself as Ferry. He said a contact had told him to get in touch with Clever, and asked where we might find the man. The halfling nearly fell off the railing he was using to reach the bartop and shouted down to the other end of the bar for a man who was presumably another regular, a human he called Amos. The two despaired that they hadn’t seen Clever in months, and that they missed him, “horns and all.” That caught my attention. Horns? Was he dragonborn, like me? Some sort of fey? Or a tiefling, the half-devils that I knew also frequently sported horns? Regardless, he seemed to be the sort of fellow that drew attention. 

Pallabar was able to get Clever’s home address from them, as they were so concerned by his absence that they would appreciate any help in checking in on the man. We made our way to the home, which we found in remarkable condition given that its owner had been absent for months. A knock at the front door went unanswered, so we tried around the back side. Two locked doors met us there, and Throckmorton scaled up the side of the house to a rooftop terrace that had a broken window. After a brief trip inside, he reported that he had heard someone else in the house. We all decided to enter through the same window and see if we could catch the presumed intruder. 

The broken window came into a bedroom long in disuse. A painting of a human man and a she-devil was above the bed (confirming my suspicions that Clever was likely to be a tiefling), and Pallabar started shuffling through the desk and found two journals that he began to read through. The second floor also contained a library, and a smaller bedroom that appeared more recently used. Probably Clever’s. The footsteps Throckmorton had heard earlier seemed to have moved downstairs, so we followed. 

Downstairs, we entered the foyer between a dining room and a lounge, and split up to try and follow the footsteps. The home was not terribly large, and as I examined the small conservatory full of alchemical ingredients, a thunk came from behind, in what we all soon realized was the kitchen. We rushed to that room to find it empty, with a door that could only lead to a basement and a small larder being the only unexplored exits. The larder was quickly revealed as a dead end, though someone had clearly been here recently -- half a bacon sandwich was left on the counter. 

Then, the most beautiful thing, laying on the floor near the counter, caught my eye. What has become the newest addition to my collection -- a garnet the size of a human fist, perfectly cut to reflect the tiniest bits of moonlight coming through the windows. I was admittedly entranced for a while, and though we were not here to loot the place I was unable to resist pocketing it. The rest of the party then caught my attention at the basement door, and Pallabar told me that the door appeared to have an enchantment on it. Any attempt to touch the door was repelled as though by an invisible shield. Our only clue was a sign above the door, reading “The search for truth has led me Astray.” 

I brought the garnet near to the door, wondering if it was perhaps a key of some kind (it seemed too perfect to be merely a mundane gem) but the magic did not respond. None of our party had the skill necessary to dispel the magic, so we began searching the house for clues that might help us get through to where this “research” was almost certainly kept. Pallabar began flipping through the journals again furiously, searching for any clue that might be the key to the door. I went back up to the library, which had been thoroughly ransacked, and found a number of journals belonging to Clever’s father Finneus, describing how his research had led to his assistant becoming trapped in the Material Plane. I also found a spell scroll, and a rather stunning collection of beetle carapaces, which I admittedly was also too weak to avoid hanging on to. 

I then found another journal, which described Finneus’ efforts to help his assistant, now also his partner and Clever’s mother, return to her home plane. It referred to her alternatively as Anakis, or as Astray. This seemed to be the key. Returning to the kitchen with the journal, I spoke what appeared to be her true name, Anakis, and the magic faded, allowing me to open the door and head down the stairs.

We had clearly found what we were looking for. 

A large transmutation circle filled the majority of the room, with a central pedestal holding a silver pitcher. To the right side of the stairs, several large bookshelves were packed full of journals. To the left, several alcoves held potions and alchemical supplies. But by far the most striking feature of the room was the human man encased entirely in amber, clutching his throat as he stood frozen next to the pitcher.

The pitcher was obviously what we were here to get. But touching it seemed...unwise.

As the others followed down the stairs, we explored the room. An exquisite set of gold alchemical tools seemed like it would be good for Pallabar. The journals down here, unlike the ones upstairs, clearly belonged to Clever himself, and we grabbed the few that were most recent. The last entries described a trip to Greentide where he recovered this artifact, and his determination that it was too dangerous for a mortal man to drink from. He planned to strike out for Mor Tiroedd, where he would seek a human man rumored to have lived far longer than a human should. 

Finally, we had no choice but to address the umberhulk in the room: the frozen man and the pitcher. We had determined that crossing the circle didn’t seem to have an effect, but it was unclear whether the pitcher itself or its contents were responsible for the man’s state. Carefully, we wrapped it in a tablecloth and secured the lid, and made our way towards the stairs to head out, when Thea, at the lead, was stopped by a tall human man with his reddish hair styled in a mohawk and his companion, a half-elf!

After a brief exchange, we learned they were associates of the frozen man downstairs, and that they were here to retrieve him. The man with the mohawk seemed to recognize Thea as a cleric, said they had been searching for someone to help their friend, and demanded that Thea heal him. He said that he came to be in his current state after drinking from the pitcher, which they had also been hired to obtain for a different party. We seemingly had little choice but to comply. Thea didn’t seem sure she could help, but a healing spell caused the amber shell to dissolve into thin air, and the man broke gasping from his frozen state. 

It was then that Mohawk demanded we hand over the pitcher and we could then go our separate ways. That, of course, was not going to happen. A brief, but firm standoff resulted in him admitting it wasn’t worth fighting over, and taking off up the stairs with his compatriots. I wanted more information, and clearly Hyla did too, as she stuck out her foot to trip the half-elf as I attempted to cast Hold Person on Mohawk, but neither of us were successful and they eluded us. By the time we got up the stairs, they were too far ahead of us, but we decided to let them go rather than risk losing our prize by pursuing them. 

Our next objective was the docks. The earliest sparks of dawn were starting to creep over the horizon, and we needed to get out of Glory Fall before we were discovered. Thankfully, Belfyr had already found the captain and her first mate by the time we got there. Isolt was a human woman, with dark hair, skin approximately the tone of my scales, and small gold piercings across various parts of her face. 

Her first mate, Augmak, however, was striking; I’ve never before met a man I had to look up to meet eyes with. He was bald-headed, with an ashy complexion and many tattoos, and I reflected on rumors I’d heard of giant-men that lived in a land far across the southern ocean. I’d never given much thought to whether those rumors were true but the evidence seemed to be staring me in the face with a giant grin as he laughed heartily and made “little man” comments at Pallabar that Isolt had clearly heard many times before. Introductions were made, and Pogano appeared covered in splotches of white paint, assuring them that we were Sullivan’s newest employees.

Isolt informed us that the boat in front of us, a three-masted schooner whose name had just been painted over, was Sullivan’s personal yacht, and advised us that before we could go further, we needed to agree to the terms of employment. The boat would be ours to use as we saw fit, as long as we handed over our findings and committed to serve the mission of Sullivan’s employers, to find a source of immortality. The lot of us agreed, and were led aboard as Belfyr and Augmak loaded Pallabar’s cart into the cargo hold and Augmak began what I assume will be a beautiful friendship with Hyla’s cat. Pogano produced a small sack, and instructed us to place in the sack what we had been tasked to retrieve. I carefully placed the pitcher in, and in doing so realized that the sack was far larger than it appeared. The pitcher vanished. I then added the most recent of Clever’s journals, but held onto the older ones; the information could help us in our goals. 

As our reward, we were given 200 gold pieces each, and offered free use of the ship. We instructed Isolt to make for Stonebanks just to get out of town and resupply while we studied the remaining journals to decide where to go next. We were told to name the ship, as an effort to disguise its ownership, and we chose the Winchester, after a pub that three of our party had coincidentally visited on separate occasions. We each selected our rooms, and set sail. Pog even taught Hyla and me a lovely game of his own invention!

This evening, Pog produced a letter from Sullivan, which he drew from the same unusual bag. Sullivan welcomed us to his formal employment, and thanked us for the items we provided him. He confirmed the terms of the deal that Isolt had provided earlier, and gave us the additional clue that a forge-mark on the pitcher was something he had previously seen coming from Brother Heights, in Landfall Crag.

It will be the day after tomorrow when we reach Stonebanks. As we travel, we will study the journals, and begin the task of learning to sail, as we are to be the crew of this vessel as well. Adventure awaits us!

-NS

[shoogharashk]

17 February 3998

Today, I am certain, marks a new and exciting chapter in my story. Last night began as many do, at a tavern. I have been staying in the great city of Glory Fall, in Beckryde, and have spent the last fortnight or so performing regularly at the Marigold, where I also have a room. It’s a nice tavern, though some of its regulars are not the most savory of folk. All was going well, and I was having, I believe, a splendid performance. Then, across the room, I heard raised voices, and shoving, and the next thing I knew, the whole bar was broken into a full-on brawl. 

I still growl a bit to think of my tip jar, which was quite full but was knocked aside and its contents lost in the chaos. 

Of course, as usual, when the city guard arrived to find a room full of humans and halflings in various states of injury and disarray, blame fell upon the relatively unharmed dragonman with his fiddle on his back, brandishing a broken chair, and my protests that it was being used only as a shield fell upon deaf ears. I and some of the more obviously aggressive patrons were escorted away, and when the nearest guard station proved to have too few cells I was moved along to another location.

As I was brought in, the halfling jailer introduced himself as Rossi. One of the more jovial jailers I’ve met, and unfortunately I’ve met quite a few, largely through no fault of my own of course! I had tried to fold my dragonsong amulet into my frill, as I do hate parting with it, but its shine must have caught the light and it was confiscated and added to the rest of my belongings as I was led downstairs. 

By the time I was brought into the dungeon proper, the room was dark and largely occupied. One cell had a human man asleep on the bed, a second held a sobbing elf clutching a necklace and a robed halfling woman trying to comfort her. The cell between them was occupied by an orc, and it was to this cell I was added. These cells were not meant for two beings of our size, and he stoically made room for me while maintaining silence. I had not yet even had a chance to introduce myself when yet another arrestee was brought in, a gnomish fellow who bantered with the guards as they took a strange gauntlet away from him. I naturally assumed they would put him in the fourth cell at the end of the row, but then I noticed that it was in disuse - the bed broken and the door swung open. I then thought perhaps they’d give the sleeping human a cellmate, but to my dismay, a third man was added to a cell that could barely handle the two very large ones already in it. At least our newest cellmate was quite small. 

The gnome seemed a little alarmed by me, but was trying to strike up a conversation when we heard our jailer re-enter the room. Rossi was accompanied by two figures in cloaks, one tall, and one very short, even shorter than the halflings. After a discussion, the tall man convinced Rossi to leave us alone with him, and I knew things were about to get very interesting. Our gnome friend introduced himself as Pallabar, and the tall man (who revealed himself to be a human) said that his name was Sullivan, and he had a proposition for us. He had a job that he said required special talent, and he believed this group to be what he needed. He told us that if we could escape without causing death or undue destruction of property, and meet his associate at Tavern Number Three, we would be hired for a very lucrative job. With that, the two of them departed, leaving us and our slumbering compatriot alone in the dungeon.

To my shock, disgust, and also complete fascination, my new orc friend produced a dagger (from the very flesh of his arm!) and immediately began to pick the lock on our cell. It took him only a moment to pop it open, and he strode without hesitation across the room past the large central cell towards the desk at the other side of the room. As he stepped next to that cell, I heard a rather dismaying snapping sound. It was at this moment that I noticed the lumps in the cell in the middle of the room were not, in fact, piles of furs, but were in fact two wolves. As the wire across the floor snapped, the doors of that central cell raised into the ceiling, and the wolves stood, their eyes filled with menace. It could have been the low light, but I could have sworn I saw shadows leaking from their eyes.

All of the nine hells broke free. The elf and halfling women were still trapped in their cell, and looking around at the five of us, largely unarmed and unarmored, I knew that I had to get the wolves’ attention. Without my amulet, sword, or shield, I was at first at a loss how to proceed, then I spotted the broken bed in the far cell. Quickly, I raced to that cell and broke off a wooden brace from the bed, and stepped over to the doors of the middle cell. The wolves were lined up perfectly, and I used the only natural weapon at my disposal - my breath. The acid hit one of them square in the face and splashed on the other, and the latter began to bark! As I looked at them, one lunged at me, and though I dodged the snap of its jaws, its gaze began to fill me with the strangest sense of calm and contentment. I shook it off and stood ready to prevent them from harming my new-found companions until we were better prepared to fight.

The orc had rushed to the other cell door to free the women, and Pallabar, now with a newly-acquired dagger in hand, opened the doors on the opposite side of the room from me. As he did so, he quickly said something about “the wolves just got spooked” and quickly shut the doors again. They continued to bark however, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the rest of the guards heard. Someone, the elf I believe, managed to cast a spell, trapping the wolves in vines, but again as I moved forward to strike them, to try and knock at least one of them out, the wolf put its foul gaze upon me. The wave of apathy swept over me again, but I was determined to resist. 

The orc had freed the two women, and the elf was speaking to the wolves in a series of barks and yelps -- a druid perhaps? A dwarf guard came stumbling out from the door Pallabar had opened, and a human guard had run down from the office above yelling at us to stop. The sleeping human in the other cell had awoken, and he was laughing and enjoying the show. Pallabar was flanked by the two guards, and the wolves were in stalemate with the rest of us. I raised my hands cautiously, waiting to see how this all would play out. 

It was at this moment that I was caught by the wolf’s gaze again, and time seemed to lose meaning as their spell finally took me. Pallabar flung a small pebble-sized device at incredible speeds from his hand, and it struck the human guard backwards as the gnome flew up the stairs past him. The wolves seemed to be...phasing?...in and out of the cage and the vines. The orc and elf tangled with the dwarf guard, while the halfling woman followed Pallabar up the stairs and the human staggered to his feet and chased after them. And all of this became, to me, a mild amusement. I was compelled to return to the cells, and found myself seated in the broken cell.  I met eyes with the previously-sleeping human prisoner, and soon I too began to laugh at the scene playing out before me. At one point, the elf pelted a bucket at the dwarf, striking him in the head, which got her roars of laughter from my companion and myself. It was maybe only half a minute at most before my will broke through the spell, and the scene before me had changed. 

The orc was gone, having followed the smallfolk and the human guard up the stairs. The elf was now wielding a mop as a weapon, surrounded by the dwarf guard and the wolves, and was still shouting at the wolves in their own tongue. My senses having returned to me, I stood and ran towards them, throwing the wooden beam to strike one of the wolves, hoping to draw their attention away and give the woman a chance to either attack or flee. Then, at once, the halfling woman appeared running down the stairs, brandishing an amulet in front of her, and I realized she was a cleric. 

“Flee!” she commanded, and the dwarf suddenly lowered his weapon and dashed into the room from whence he had come. We were left with the wolves. After another short conversation between them and the elf, they seemed to stand down and went to join their dwarf master in the back room. The orc and gnome returned down the stairs, the gnome attaching his gauntlet to his arm, and the orc carrying our belongings in his arms. Despite the chaos, it would appear our success was nigh.

I turned to look at the last of us, the laughing man, still chuckling in his cell and now applauding quietly. He had not been included in Sullivan’s offer, but it still didn’t seem right to leave him. Though he hadn’t helped us, I still felt he deserved a chance, but I knew we didn’t have much time and picking the lock might take too long. I tried quickly to break the lock, but failed, and couldn’t stay to try again. With a quick apology to the man, I took my fiddle, amulet, and pack from the orc and rushed up the stairs, past the human guard who was sporting a sizable bump on the back of his head and trying frantically to wipe ink from his eyes.

A very large cat joined us as we exited the front door (I didn’t have time to question it, but it seemed to be a companion of the elf woman), and as we fled, I saw Rossi and one of his guards across the street. A woman stopped them from following us as we disappeared into an alley, scattering to gather our remaining belongings and wait out the day. We are due to meet our new employer’s associate this evening. I do not know what lies ahead of us, but I can only hope that great glory, valor, and adventure await. And of course gold. Can always use more gold. 

In writing this all down, it has occurred to me that I barely got anyone’s names - the first order of business will probably be introductions!

-NS