Day 24 - Noon
It was close to morning when I heard Leopold and Theodore shouting for us to awaken.
It was only a second closer to morning when I felt the jaws of a wolf clamp down upon my lower leg, just above my hoof, before I had the chance to rise. Thankfully I was able to grab my sword before it pulled me away.
I glimpsed Theo lopping the head off of another wolf nearby as I kicked loose the one holding my leg. I struggled to my feet, stabbing the wolf for his troubles as he tried to knock me down once more. I finally had a chance to take in what was going on.
There had been five wolves altogether, coming at us under the cover of night. One was snapping at Marek and had drawn blood already. Theo and Leo were holding two more at bay. Leo had dropped his spear somewhere during the fight and was resorting to the use of those draconic claws he is somehow able to summon from within himself. Jervik had awakened as well, and from where he lay he commanded one of the wolves to sleep, and so it did. Anza, Jacobi, and Jhod were thankfully unharmed, and were only just now awakening. I think we should keep arranging ourselves as we did that night, with Anza and Jacobi sleeping in the middle of our camp and the rest around them.
The wolf that had fallen upon me managed to catch my leg once more, gnawing at it so hard I feared the bone would break. Viktor rushed upon it, stabbing it twice. Thank the Goddess for his sword style. It seemed barely able to stand, at that moment. Unfortunately, so was I. I managed to kicked myself free once more, instinctively bringing my free hand to my forehead and trying to clear the red haze of pain from my mind before I lost my footing.
Praise Iomedae. I can only believe that I am following the correct path now. At that moment I felt her, within and without. It is hard to put into words. I am not sure there are words for such a feeling.
It was almost like feeling at peace for just the briefest of moments, even with a battle raging about. I felt a cool tingle about my leg, where the flesh had been torn. It was healing even as I stood there, preparing to strike the wolf down.
I had been told of this, that I could one day work in the true healing arts like many of the priests, like Naella. Goddess grant me the wisdom to use her gifts justly.
The wolf lunged at me once more before succumbing to the bleeding wounds Viktor had inflicted. I only gave it a parting stab in the heart before the two of us charged the one that had latched onto Marek.
Leo busied himself with finishing off the one that had been put to sleep as the rest of us finished off those still engaging Theo and Marek.
We had only caught our breath when we heard Jhod clapping. He commended us for our quick action and protection of our fellow travellers. I am simply grateful none of them were harmed in the attack.
Marek was hurt as badly as I had been. I must admit, I was curious, as I limped to his side and offered what aid I could. It took me a few attempts, but finally his wounds closed completely with only a hand on his shoulder and a prayer to Iomedae. I returned to mending my own leg before realizing that Leo had been hurt in the attack as well. Luckily Jhod was able to help.
As we tended to our wounds, Jervik had set himself to skinning the wolves. In the middle of camp. Theodore seemed to be worried about the job of it the old man would manage, and he joined in the skinning. Goddess, the smell. We had to break camp early after the mess that was left. There was certainly no way any of us would manage to get to sleep in the presence of that gore and stench.
Jervik made another "demon" remark again when I voiced my disgust along with the others, as if the scene were something to which I should be accustomed. I had long had my fill of the man's stubborn ignorance. I told him once again that I am no demon, that I am a tiefling. Leo, Theodore, and Marek confirmed this, to no avail. There seems to be no reasoning with the man. All the more reason why I have found myself gravitating closer to Jhod and Theo as we travel.
Their discussion of what they will have to do once we arrive at the temple is illuminating. There is much more to the worship and philosophies of Erastil than I had initially presumed. I would do well to learn more of Iomedae's allies, especially as Erastil's church will now have a lasting presence in the area.
Though we woke to violence, this has already been an amazing day. Even the bitter sting of superstitious accusations cannot take away from the humbling awe I feel at having been touched by Iomedae's grace. I wonder if this is how Naella felt when she first channelled the gift?
I pray she is well.
One of the guards of Kressle, having worked as a jailor searched Kressle room on a routine sweep. He turns up a stack of crumpled papers underneath her bed. The first page which he scanned was pure vitriol about the “demon” that captured her, and cut off her arm. He presents these papers to Liath when next the Red Company returns to Oleg’s.
The first several pages are poorly written, and simply rant about the demon. It details several methods of vengeance and ways in which she will bring harm to her captor, and where exactly she will place his horns once she chops them off his head.
After that the writing starts to improve, and are less rant filled.
I’ve been trapped in this room for only a week or so, but it already feels like months. Time crawls locked in here, no one speaks to me, and I can only catch glimpses of other humans as they go about there business from the small window in the room. I think perhaps when I get the Demon in my power I will lock him in a small box for a month so that he can enjoy the hospitality he has given to me. I am despised by the few people who stop by my windows. Hunters from the woods I’d run across and robbed. They sneer at me, and move on to enjoy there freedom. They will know pain and suffering!
They gave me new clothes today. Some of Svetlana’s old hand-me downs. It’s better than the old clothes I had underneath my armor and no sword holes, but it’s a dress. I haven’t worn a dress in.. Well, I think I had one when I was a child. It’s strange; I wish I had a mirror or something.
I started talking to one of my guards. It was strange, most of them won’t give me the time of day, and I’m fine to keep it that way, but Cedric.. That’s his name I found out later, just started talking. I was pissed at first, tried to get him to leave me alone, but he kept talking and well, I haven’t really spoken to anyone but the people that put me in here, so it was somewhat.. Well, I talked to him some is all.
I broke the window to my cell today. I was furious, I saw Jarvis walking around out there with a bunch of children. After taking him in when he was starving in the forest, and getting him setup to be one of my men, to see him walking around free brought my anger to a head. He was in that first group I sent to Oleg’s to get the payment; he must have sold me out for his freedom! I’ll make sure he gets what’s coming to him.
Cedric came and talk to me some about Jarvis today. Apparently one of his friends spilled the beans about our camp. He just kept quiet and pleaded for his life. Told them he had kids back home. They gave him a chance to leave, and get this, they didn’t cut off his hand or anything. Just let him walk. How is this fair exactly? I think I’ll ask the Demon about this particular bit of justice! Or maybe not… I don’t want to get Cedric in trouble; life has become a bit better with his talks. I didn’t know there were guys out there that didn’t want to rob or rape you. Whatever.
The next few entries don’t speak of anything in particular, just bored observations, and wondering if she’s going to get those books her jailor promised her. And noticing the Svetlana has been sick in the mornings lately as she runs out to the middens. And why are these children running all over the courtyard. There are also some doodles drawn into the margins. A child’s face, some vines, a horned stick man being burned alive, a single small heart, a couple of flowers.
Day 24 - Night
The Temple of Erastil is restored.
When we finally arrived the wilderness already seemed to be reclaiming the temple grounds. The pool had certainly lost the crystal clearness it had gained upon the old druid's death.
Jhod went to work immediately, enlisting Theodore's aid in the rituals needed to fully sanctify the grounds once more.
I must admit that I felt a bit useless. Many of us helped with the clearing of the brush but there was not much else we could do. I could only stand aside and keep a respectful silence as Erastil's faithful called upon his grace.
Erastilian ceremony is different from what I have known amongst the clergy of Iomedae. We both place importance on tradition, but the followers of the hunting god seem to favor - I hesitate to use the word - simpler ritual over what I am familiar with. There is a certain pragmatism to it, and there is little in the way of show.
It makes me a little self-conscious of how others see my faith. Do we place too much importance on ceremony? Or is it entirely proper, as a way of inspiring others?
It is something I must think over.
When the deed was done, the pool was once again clear and pure, the grounds seemed to hold an almost tangible feeling of peace. Jhod thanked us for our aid and informed us that if ever any of us should need it, he could offer us his healing arts at no cost. Simply restoring a bastion of goodly faith in the wild of the Stolen Lands is reward enough, but we appreciated his charity.
He assured us that he would be safe at the temple until his brethren arrived, so we exchanged our farewells and set off for our next destination.
Viktor has finally gotten his wish. We have turned northwest for the fairy baths. We should find it tomorrow, hopefully.
I do not quite know what to expect. I imagine lush green gardens growing about small waterfalls and crystal clear pools of pure, cool water. I hope we can meet more of Perlivash and Tigtittertug's kin. I still wish to see what a dryad looks like.
I hope we do not meet one at the baths though. It would be inappropriate and awkward.
Day 25
It was not what I expected.
When morning broke we continued northward. As Anza and Theo picked our way for us, we could hear the flow of riverwater a bit before us. Then we were greeted by the smell. A strong, unpleasant but bearable sulphurous stench. Anza informed us that we had just approached Skunk River. An apt name.
We found the springs, and the source of the smell, soon after. There were no great gardens growing around them. They were just bubbling pools of murky, hot water. No one else was in sight.
I fear my disappointment was plain upon my face. At least Leo and Marek seemed likewise underwhelmed as well. Theodore told us they were hot springs, and that many, including this one after he felt of it, were safe to bathe in and that it was said to have healing, medicinal properties.
Viktor seemed to have decided to simply make the best of the situation and began undressing. Marek said that since we were there already, we might as well enjoy it. Leopold and Jervik agreed.
Anza excused herself. I think she was smirking, I am not certain. Jacobi said he would simply wait until later, when it was not so crowded. Theodore simply and quietly went to guarding the area. I did the same.
I did wish to try it, at least once, but I hoped to wait until all of the others had already gone. I am not entirely comfortable exposing myself to others so freely. My friends know about my back, and the bend of my legs cannot be hidden, but to actually be seen, especially by Jervik - I am simply uncomfortable with it.
I showed my back to Cressel though. I had done so to show her a measure of empathy. Given what she did with what she learned from it, I believe I am justified in my hesitation.
As it turns out, it was for the best.
Not long after Leo, Marek, Jervik, and Viktor settled in the pool, three huge frogs surfaced nearby, immediately attacking them, seemingly enraged by their intrusion. With no armor or weapons, they were horribly vulnerable.
One of the beasts caught Marek in its tongue, coiling tightly about his torso and pulling him into its mouth before biting down upon the elf's shoulder. Marek's arm was inside the thing.
Jervik waved his arms about, shouting for the frog closest to him to fall asleep. As expected, it did so, floating limply just below the surface.
Leo's hands burst into those familiar, draconian claws as he managed to avoid the last frog's tongue before charging as well as he could chest-deep in water. His fingers tore into the beast easily. It is still difficult, reconciling the urbane man I know and the bestial methods of fighting that seems to come naturally to him.
Viktor quickly waded back to the shore for his swords as I waded in. I could feel the hot water pouring into my armor, soaking everything underneath it. Goddess, it was hard moving in that armor, and I prayed that I did not lose my footing lest I should be unable to pull myself back upright. I could see blood running down Vik's back. He had been bitten sometime during his escape.
Marek had taken hold of the frog's tongue and was pulling it with all his might. The frog may have had him, but he was determined to make himself too much trouble to hold onto. I hacked at the thing; I was hoping to sever the tongue but barely managed to turn my blade to the frog's head as Marek's arm went back in its mouth. I did not know frogs had teeth. They were certainly cutting into Marek's shoulder.
Theo let an arrow fly into the frog Leo was holding off before he dived into the pool after us. He charged through the water more quickly than I could have managed and freed Marek with an axe to each of the frog's eyes.
Viktor had made his way back into the pool as well, and quickly set himself to killing the frog that had been put to sleep. After it was clear that Leo was about to finish off the other one with little trouble, I waded over to help him as Marek went for his blade. It was tricky business, stabbing almost blindly into the water and hoping that it did not awaken and pull us underwater, but eventually the frog floated lifelessly between us.
We all waded out, two of us soaking in our clothing and armor. I used the healing gifts Iomedae had granted me to mend Marek and Viktor's wounds, after which they were none the worse for wear. I used what nascent magic Naella and I had been "blessed" with upon birth and dried Theodore's clothing for him before they could be ruined. I did the same for mine after removing my armor. I was sloshing with every step before that.
The frogs floated in the water, the spring was now filled with their blood and that of two of our own. Most of us had lost any desire to use the springs at that point. Viktor simply moved down the shore and asked us to be kind enough to keep an eye open. A strange fellow.
When Jervik made to pull the frogs' bodies ashore, Marek agreed to help. He said he fully intended to try frog for tonight's dinner, for the sake of irony.
I am uncertain whether this is a Calistrian thing or not.
We were done with the springs more quickly than we thought. No one else had any desire to use them after the attack, and so we set out westward towards the plains, where no frogs lie and wait. That I know of, at least.
I must ask Theodore to be certain.
Day 26
A mostly uneventful day today. A pleasant change from the norm, I think.
We made our way across the plainsland, fully mapping the area and making our way closer to the western edge of the Greenbelt. Leo says that Professor Crate will be thrilled once we get back. I have no idea how the device he loaned us works but our maps have been all the better for the man's assistance.
It is nothing but wide open green and blue skies above. The place holds a certain serenity to it.
If we had the time, I would have liked to have simply lay upon the grass and stare at the scant clouds passing overhead. The only sky I truly knew as a child was framed by trees and the walls of our monastery.
Leo has fallen into the habit of using those claws he can summon while eating in lieu of a fork. I do not think that will be looked upon kindly when he returns to the houses of the Orlavsky family.
In truth, I envy him. He seems to relish his heritage. He is not at all ashamed of his ancestry. Indeed, at times he flaunts it. And why not, I suppose. There is much prestige to be found in it really, unlike those of us marked with the blood of fiends.
But I still worry. I still cannot help but think he should restrain himself, to be more subdued about his lineage. Leo is a good man, and his grandfather is at least not wicked. It is simply that the reputation of red dragons has hardly one that could be called virtuous. Or remotely humane. But apparently Leo's grandfather is different. Very different, I pray.
I should not think so of him, and it shames me to do so, just as Leopold shamed me the day I first met him.
I had only been away from the monastery for a few months, seeking to prove myself so that I could be confirmed as a servant in Iomedae's name.
I was passing through a village when I overheard travelling merchants speaking of a young nobleman being kept in a cave nearby by an old red dragon. I was inexperienced and foolhardy, eager to prove my worth. I set out to see if I could save the man, with little in the way of any sort of plan or real preparation.
I met Leopold and Marek travelling the other way, heading to the town for a time on one of their regular excursions while the nobleman took some time off from his grandfather's tutelage, or rather, during one of the many moments his grandfather grew bored with the tutoring. They asked where I was going, I told them of my new quest. Leo quickly assured me that he was the nobleman in question, and that he was in no way a prisoner and that his grandfather was not a threat.
I remember looking at him in disbelief. I worried that he had been brainwashed somehow, that it was not possible for a red dragon to be anything other than a rapacious murderous monster. I voiced my concerns.
Leopold calmly pointed out that that attitude was one that was all too often shown towards tieflings.
I felt ashamed, as well I should have been. Leopold assured me that it always took people time to deal with the oddness of his grandfather, and invited me to travel back to town with him as he explained matters further. He likely saved my life that day.
It has been a peculiar friendship ever since.
Day 27
An unexpected meeting this day!
Anza has really helped us find our way more easily. We are covering much more ground much more quickly now! She remains gruff, but has been an absolute professional during her time with us.
We have skirted the edge of the Greenbelt, exploring more plains before venturing back into lightly wooded land. A light rain began falling as we made it to the wood's edge. Neither Theo nor Jervik foresaw this change in weather.
It was among the trees that we came across a pit. We could hear a faint moaning from within. Remembering the spider we had encountered days ago, we looked over the edge, expecting to find someone in need.
It was a small man, dressed in strange green clothing. Very small, no more than a foot tall! Theodore knew what he was right away and exclaimed it, a leprechaun, another race of fey!
The man did not react overly much to us. He seemed absolutely depressed, hardly bothering to acknowledge us. The pit was beginning to fill with rainwater. We asked if he was alright even as we prepared a rope to help him out. He simply answered that he was sad, and that he had fallen in the pit. We tried to get him to elaborate, but all he would offer was that he was simply sad.
We assured him we were coming down to help him out of the pit, and in that moment he vanished, only to reappear in our midst. After we shook our amazement at the feat, we asked why he did not simply do that earlier. He merely shrugged and said he did not see much point.
We were absolutely confused by the little man's manner. We tried to ask him why he was so despondant. He explained, hesitantly as if he should not even bother trying, that he was cursed by bad luck. Theo suggested that perhaps Jhod at the Temple of Erastil could help lift it, but the leprechaun quickly exclaimed that it wasn't that kind of curse, and that he was no "tree hugger", whatever that means. He did further elaborate that he made an exception for dryads, as well as detailling why. I rather wish he had not.
We managed to get him back on the subject at hand. His name is Miki Finabara. He has not been able to find his home since he found his lucky gold coin stolen from it. The exact logic of this confused me, but I am beginning to understand that reason and causality are a bit more fluid for the fey.
We tried to get him to explain further. He told us that ever since his coin was stolen, he has been cursed with bad luck and misfortune. He also found someone's tracks near the point where he lost his coin. I tried to get him to tell us exactly what the coin looked like, but he simply looked at me as if I were mad and said "it's a coin and it's gold."
We promised to help him. He didn't seem overly enthusiastic at first, but once it became clear that our intentions were true, he seemed somewhat comforted and his spirits slightly lifted. Somewhat and slightly.
When we prepared to set out, Miki just stood in place, ho-humming and sighing to himself. We tried to get him to ride with us, but he said he did not feel like it. We tried to think of something that could make the man at least a little proactive.
I suggested that perhaps one of us could carry him in a papoose, a small basket worn over one's shoulder for carrying infants used in some cultures. The detail just leapt out at me.
This actually got his attention. He excitedly said that would be wonderful. It was then that I finally noticed Jacobi's expression. The man looked like I probably did upon first meeting Perlivash and Tigtittertut; his jaw was slack, his eyes staring in awe and wonder at Miki's little form. He was thrilled at the idea of carrying such a "little person".
It seemed we had come to a solution until Miki asked for the papoose. I admitted that we did not have one, but we could place him in an open, empty backpack which would be just like riding in a papoose. He was not at all pleased. He was actually rather upset with me, yelling at me for selling him the idea of riding a papoose when we did not actually have one. I tried to apologize and explain that we were doing the best we could, but he was not having any of it.
Jervik made certain to point out my wrongdoing.
Eventually Miki relented, and vanished and reappeared in Jacobi's backpack. He's still there, sighing loudly and regularly.
At least Jacobi is happy.
We're continuing northward. We will be circling around to the east and then back southward to cover the land we have missed.
The rain has been getting worse.
Day 28
It is still raining.
Anza and Theo both say that this rain should pass entirely by the night's end. Until then we will certainly be taken shelter in the three tents we have between us.
Miki's mood has remained the same. Anza seems a bit angry, perhaps a bit defensive about some of our horses' missteps during the day. She really need not worry so. There was little that could be done about that, given the visibility.
The weather's turn has of course slowed us in our task. It will take much more time to fully traverse the area. It has been agreed that we not rush matters. No sense in adding to the danger already easily found here on the Greenbelt, after all.
Marek posited an idea about the thief that took Miki's coin. We know of at least one group of beings who are known for stealing small jewelry and trinkets. Perhaps this latest search will also lead us to the lady Svetlana's ring?
I wish it would stop raining.
Day 29
Ink fell in fire. Cannot write much detail.
Still raining. Miki still depressed. One of tents leaking.
Exploration almost done in area. Moving on. Anza and Theo sure rain cannot last much longer.
Otherwise uneventf
Day 30
Leopold, as it turns out, carries ink in his pack.
It is still raining. It comes in goes in intensity, but it never stops.
Miki's mood has not brightened at all. We've tried talking with him, to raise his spirits at least a little, but nothing seems to work.
I suspect he managing to wear away at Jacobi's cheer. I saw the man not smiling at least twice today.
The mood amongst us has been more sullen of late. The weather and the small irritations of the day have been wearing at us. I nearly cracked my hoof after falling off my horse around midday. I still regret the language I used. Thankfully no one here knows Dwarven, that I know of at least.
We did find something interesting. We found what looked like large frog tracks as we made our way through the forests bordering on the marshland. I would not have expected one of the giant frogs to journey so far from their usual environs, and it must have passed through recently for the track to still remain in all of this rain. Perhaps the rain is the answer. With everything being so soaked, a frog would feel at home everywhere.
I suppose I could ask Theo about this theory, but I suspect he is not in the mood.
Most of us are not.
At the very least, the trees are shielding us from some of the rain. We will hopefully be able to explore the rest of this area tomorrow.
Theo and Anza are not guaranteeing anything about the rain tomorrow.
Day 31
We've completed our exploration of the forest and have resigned ourselves to staying in the marshland for a time.
Anza has found some relatively hard land to camp upon. It perhaps goes without saying that it is still raining, but we are now sheltered from the worst of it.
This land is strange. I am certain that at another time, I might feel more welcome here, but the place is rather uninviting at the moment.
It is hard to work up the spirit to write much more. I still think I can taste mud from my tripping earlier today.
Miki mentioned that we could simply close the backpack and smother him to death if we wanted. We were naturally horrified by the suggestion and told him that that was not remotely within the realm of possibility.
I am fairly certain all of us were horrified.
Day 32 - Morning
We had to move quickly last night. Whatever misfortunes we have dealt with these past few days pale before what nearly came upon us.
Viktor and I were on watch. We had little in the way of words to share. No one was really in the mood for any sort of talk at that point. But we kept our eyes open. Thank the Goddess for that.
We saw them in the distance, amidst the trees and cast in silouette at times by lighting. Four enormous, hulking figures, no less than twelve feet tall. They were tracking something, and it did not take much to guess what that was.
Vik and I both went as still as stone when we saw them. I had never seen one before, but I knew them from the stories, from the grim tales told in my childhood and the even worse facts documented in the books at the monastery.
They were trolls.
Thankfully they had not actually seen us, but it was only a matter of time.
We quickly, and quietly, woke the others, covering their mouths as we did so and whispering to not make a sound, that there were four trolls approaching, and that we had to leave now. We did not have to explain further.
Everyone grabbed what they could and immediately went to their horses, with Theo and Anza stealthily leading our way out of camp. We had to leave the tents and the bear traps Theo had placed behind. Theo cursed when he realized what we had just lost.
As we made our way out and it seemed that we had escaped the troll's notice, I could hear Miki mumbling, miserably, "Just my luck."
Marek observed, dryly, "What a horrible night to have a cursed leprechaun."
Further behind us, we could hear something metallic snap, followed by a monstrous scream of pain and anger. We quickened our pace.
We cut close to Skunk River, and have been circling around while covering our tracks. We will try to return to our camp later, but not until we are certain we will not be running into those trolls.
I have utmost confidence in my companions' ability in battle, but what we faced then would have been suicide.
One must know their own limits, but by the Goddess it is frustrating. Still, we count ourselves fortunate to be alive.
Iomedae's grace, trolls. Four of them. If those were to follow us back to Oleg's trading post, it would be a massacre.
We must take great care to cover our tracks before our return. And when we do, we must warn Oleg to prepare. Sooner or later, those four will find his home. I pray we are there to defend it if that time comes.
Great stuff1
I wish I had a group of players like yours where i live lol It would be awesome to be part of a group that role plays so well. But living vicariously through this journal is good too =D. Excellent as always! On edge for the next installment xD.
We live in a pretty small town too. But if you can convience your friends to play, it's easy to get some people into the role playing! Sometimes I have to beat them with a stick just to get them to shut up long enough for me to get to the next scene.
*immediately adds cursed leprechaun to Kingmaker campaign*
I actually got the Leprechaun idea from the link Light Dragon linked to on the previous page, and made some changes for my group. You'll find out who stole the coin next entry Liath makes probably. As for mechanics I'm using a percentile role to determine the weather, then I roll a D6 to see how long they get that weather for. With the unluck aura I increased my results by 20% since all my bad weather results are upper numbers. And I also increased random encounter percent by 10%, and gave myself a + or - 2 on the roll to see what they encounter to give them the scary options.
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I wish I had a group of players like yours where i live lol It would be awesome to be part of a group that role plays so well. But living vicariously through this journal is good too =D. Excellent as always! On edge for the next installment xD.We live in a pretty small town too. But if you can convience your friends to play, it's easy to get some people into the role playing! Sometimes I have to beat them with a stick just to get them to shut up long enough for me to get to the next scene.
*immediately adds cursed leprechaun to Kingmaker campaign*I actually got the Leprechaun idea from the link Light Dragon linked to on the previous page, and made some changes for my group. You'll find out who stole the coin next entry Liath makes probably. As for mechanics I'm using a percentile role to determine the weather, then I roll a D6 to see how long they get that weather for. With the unluck aura I increased my results by 20% since all my bad weather results are upper numbers. And I also increased random encounter percent by 10%, and gave myself a + or - 2 on the roll to see what they encounter to give them the scary options.
I quite like that mechanic for bad luck, my players have taken quite a shine to the fey in the area. (Although they've yet to meet my horrible little Mites).
Hey, Mikaze can I start a campaign journal of the Evil Campaign your running us through? Since it's your own creation, I wouldn't want to post the adventure if you didn't want me too.
Day 32 - Late Morning
I am writing quickly. It is hard to shelter the book from the rain as we travel.
We returned to the campsite after ensuring that the trolls had left and were no longer on our trail. The place is a ruin. The tents were torn to shreds and left where they lay. Theodore's traps have been smashed apart. Theo found blood on the remains of one. It did its job of delaying them just a little, at least.
The rain is getting heavier and we cannot be certain the trolls are no longer hunting us. We are heading back to Skunk River. Anza and Theo believe we can lose the trolls entirely by cutting through the swampland. We'll leave far less in the way of tracks to follow.
Day 32 - Night
our fortunes seem to have changed with a chance meeting this day.
Theo and Anza led our way through the mire, our horses' hooves frequently slopping into the mud. I was worried that a misstep and a broken leg for one of our mounts was just a matter of time, but our scout's keen eyes and Theo's experience kept us on a safe path.
We had not heard nor seen any sign of the trolls again, but few of us were willing to let our guard down. The rain had eased a bit at least, mostly because we were now travelling under a canopy of green that partially shielded us. Still, it was not quite enough to put any of us in good cheer.
We travelled further into the swamp until we caught a glimpse of two ruined stone buildings. How long they had been there and who could have built them, I've no idea. They simply looked old and overgrown, a somber memory and echo of those who came before us.
Some of us dismounted to investigate the area. It was but a moment later that I saw Marek draw his bow upon something I had not yet seen. I suspect I saw a hint of disgust in his eyes.
I quickly followed Marek's aim and finally saw him. A strange, frog-like figure that stood as a man. He leaned against a spear near the side of one of the buildings. We had heard of such creatures being present in the area. Boggards, they are called.
I hissed for Marek to stay his hand, a bit too loudly it seemed. The boggard heard us and turned his large, bulbous eyes our way. It was difficult to read much in his facial expressions, but the body language spoke clearly as he threw up his arms. He was afraid. He croaked out in broken Taldane, "Truce!"
Marek finally lowered his bow. I know not why he was so hasty to draw it. I suspect he was highly suspicious due to the attack by the giant frogs back at the hot springs. And many of our tempers had been running high after the misery of the past few days. Thankfully, the disaster had been averted.
The rest of our group dismounted and gathered about to see what was going on. It was then that two enormous, purple-hued frog-like beasts hopped up alongside the boggard, seeming to come to his defense. They had huge tusks jutting from their upper jaws, and seemed to exude a slick slime from every pore of their body. I feared the situation was about to escalate once more, but the boggard continued to shout "Truce", and the more cool-headed among us stayed the hands of the others.
The tension left the air quickly, but not our frustration. Leopold and I tried to communicate with the boggard, but it seemed he understood little beyond a few words of common Taldane and none among us knew any of his tongue.
Once the boggard knew he was in no danger, he started using words other than "truce". "Hungry" tended to crop up quite a bit. I presented him one pack of my trail rations, which he took apart and devoured, quite messily, without hesitation. We tried to communicate further, but it was quite difficult, and the boggard seemed to have a one-track mind tied directly to his stomach.
It was then that Miki piped up, finally. He pointed at the boggard accusingly, announcing that he had seen him about around the time his coin went missing. The boggard, for his part, seemed to smile, I think, sheepishly at the sight of the angry leprechaun.
We tried to establish what we wanted then, holding up a ring and offering him food in exchange. He seemed more than willing to accept the packs of rations, but he didn't seem to catch on to the idea of what was expected on his end of the bargain. We went back and forth for minutes, getting nowhere until Jervik presented, quite openly for the boggard's benefit, a coin and placed it in Leopold's hand before taking a pack of rations.
Finally he understood. He quickly gave us a coin, and immediately went to gobbling up the ten packets he had bought. For all of my criticism of the man, Jervik's wiliness saved us a day of frustration and wasted time.
Miki's mood immediately brightened when we handed him the little gold coin. Incredibly, so did the weather. The rain died out almost immediately. The pall hanging over us had finally been lifted, it seemed.
More cheerful than we had ever seen him, Miki thanked us all and wished us luck in our other endeavors. We asked if he could find his way back home safely. He told us all he had to do was step to the side to return hom to the First World. I was intrigued and confused all at once. The First World, as he spoke of it, was the homeland of the fey which lay right next to our own. I know not if he could have returned at any time, or if his missing coin would have prevented him from doing so. It is too late to find out now.
He told us that he had come to these lands out of curiosity. It seems this area has drawn an unusually high number of fey to congregate within it. For his part, Miki said that he was done with the place. He had his fill of troubles, and preferred to simply return home. Before he left us, he gave us a blessing; one of luck, he said. I know not if he simply wished us well or if he has granted us some intangible, magical boon, but I am thankful, either way.
After than, he simply stepped to the side and out of sight. We could find no trace of the little man. Jacobi's mouth had gone as slack as I suspect mine was at the time.
The boggard seemed quite friendly with us as we left. He was not exactly encouraging us to stay, but he did not seem to be in a hurry to see us go either. I tried to warn him that there were trolls in the area, just to ensure that we did not lead danger to his doorstep. I think he understood what I was getting at, but waved me off. This is his home, so he should know how to prepare for such dangers, I suppose. I am grateful we could make peaceful contact with yet another of the Greenbelt's native peoples. It leaves me wondering, in the truest sense of the word, at what other kinds of people we may yet meet here.
We continued eastward, making it to drier forest lands around evening. The sun had been a welcome sight, as has the simple sensation of being dry for the first time in days. I was getting tired of wringing water from my cap.
We're making camp now, as best we can. Theo is having to settle for his more rudimentary traps. He is still a bit angry over the loss of those expensive devices. I pray we have no reason to regret their loss this night.
Day 33
Our good fortune continued today.
We got an early start at exploring the forest in which we had camped. The trees grow thick here and picking our way between them slowed our progress quite a bit.
Eventually we made out way into a large clearing. Before we could even begin to pick up our pace, Theo called for us to halt. He pointed us towards the huge boar's lair that lay just one hundred feet before us. None of us had any desire to see any of our horses crippled by the charge of an angry, territorial boar, but we were left wondering at the unusual size of the den. We soon saw the reason for it.
An enormous boar charged out of the brush, further away. It was easily twice the size of the three we had encountered so many days ago. Goddess, to think on the size of it now, it would not have knocked a horse over, it would have gone through it.
Marek, without hesitation, put an arrow into its flank. He hit his target, but it did not slow the beast at all.
Theo and I rode forth to intercept it, to keep it from charging into the mass of our comrades before they could scatter. Theodore had been training my steed for the past several days, so that it would remain calm in the midst of battle like his own. The training was still very much a work in progress, however. I feared he would panic at any moment, but the horse stayed true to his course even if I had to jerk the reins more than I would have liked.
Theo swiped at the boar with his axe, his horse narrowly avoiding the beast's tusks before kicking back and catching it in side of its head with both hooves. Both hits gave me the opening I needed to stab it deeply in its side as I rode past. I was barely able to yank my sword free before it was pulled from my hand.
Theo and I turned just in time to see Leo's shining lights strike the boar in rapid succession. The beast finally dropped.
We all breathed a collective sigh of relief that we had put the beast down before it had even been able to land a single hit. Looking at the size of it and its tusks convinced me that it could have killed any of us in a single charge. I think Viktor seemed a bit irritated that the battle was done before he had an opportunity to show off his expertise once more. I cannot say whether or not he was more disappointed than relieved, however.
We then realized what the beast was. The old hunter that had spoken to Jervik had called it Tuskgutter. This had to be the same boar.
The realization of what it was, along with a need to restore our own stock of supplies, meant that Theodore alone was entrusted with dressing the kill. Jervik did insist on certain parts he wanted for his own purposes, of course. The head was removed and wrapped in the tatters of one of the ruined tents. The old hunter will be happy to see it, I hope. It is a small consolation for the loss of a leg, though.
It was unpleasant work, but Theodore has prepared and wrapped what meat we can reasonably take with us. We will certainly be eating well tonight. Even now the smell of it cooking quickens the pace of my writing.
Jervik did something with the beast's liver. Exactly what, I cannot say for certain. He did however say that we would have clear weather tomorrow.
We moved on when we were done. The butchered carcass would be drawing all manner of scavengers soon enough. We continued eastward towards the plains until we found a suitable location to make camp. Tall grass grows all about, but it is hardly anything that can hide the likes of the trolls and giant boars we have faced so recently. Thylacines are another matter, and everyone knows it. Theodore will be placing traps as soon as he can.
The grass is still moist, but it is not so bad, looking up to the star-filled sky stretching out above us. It's as if the Greenbelt itself is breathing more easily after the hard rains of the past few days.
It is time to eat. We will be having pork for quite some time I think.
Day 33 - Midnight
A peaceful night is not something to count among our fortunes after all.
Most of us had just gone to sleep as Theodore went out to check his traps. Marek and Jervik were standing watch.
Their shouting woke the rest of us up, just in time to see a large, dark-furred wolf coming through the high grass to charge Marek. The wolf was larger than those we had seen earlier. Its eyes glowed like burning embers, a hateful, evil red luminescence. It wore the form of a wolf but there was an unmistakable, unnatural malice about it.
Marek put an arrow into its side right before it clamped its huge jaws around his leg. I winced with the memory of my similar experiences as I and the others hurried to our feet and grabbed our weapons.
It was on top of Marek now, but the man was far from helpless. Again and again he stabbed at the wolf-thing with his dagger, refusing to give any of his blood without taking an equal measure in kind. It kept the beast's attention entirely on him, even as I charged it and swung my longsword down with all my might and a prayer on my lips.
When the sword met its back it burned, even throwing sparks where the steel struck flesh. The blade and Iomedae's grace confirmed that the beast was a creature of great evil and struck it down all at once. We quickly rolled it off Marek and tried to see to his wounds, but he was already calling upon his own goddess' healing. I am still unused to the idea of Marek the Calistrian.
Theodore came back in a hurry, just in time to see us dragging the beast out of our campsite; Jervik was polite enough to wait until after we had pulled it away from camp before butchering it this time. We explained what had happened, and counted ourselves blessed that there had not been more than one, and that it had not encountered Theodore alone.
Theo and Anza identified the beast as well. A worg, an unnaturally evil species of wolf possessed of almost human-like cunning. Tales say they can even speak, or that they can at least understand the tongue of goblins, who sometimes ride them into battle.
Thank the Goddess we've not seen any goblins about, let alone any riding more of these worgs.
I suspect sleeping will be a bit difficult for the rest of the night.
Day 34 - Afternoon
Our fortunes truly seemed to have slipped into a valley after rising high for a moment, but I think we should perhaps count our blessings, all things considered. It could have been much worse.
We continued exploring and moving eastward across the plains. Everything had gone smoothly for most of the day thus far, until we ran out of land to map.
We came upon a wide, swiftly flowing river that had cut a deep, steep crevass through the land. Climbing down, crossing it, and climbing back up was absolutely out of the question. At best there were points in the river that such a venture would be incredibly dangerous even without the two elderly amongst us, and for the rest of the river it would be nigh-impossible.
Still, we had to cross the river to continue our exploration. Thus we began to travel northward along the riverside until we came finally came upon a bridge.
It was an old, rickety thing. The wood did not look terribly rotten, but it did not look terribly cared for or terribly sturdy. I suspected it was simply a terrible bridge. Unfortunately, it was the only one for miles, according to Anza.
We considered the thing, and our chances, for quite some time before Theodore dismounted and told the rest of us to wait. He then set foot upon the bridge, leading his horse by the reins. I could hear it creak under their weight. The rest of us were silent as he and his horse slowly crossed the span of the river. I prayed for Iomedae to guide his steps, and I suspect I saw his lips moving with a similar request to Desna and Erastil. He stepped as lightly on the bridge as he does on the green of the plains and forest, and still the thing seemed to make a noise with each soft footfall.
The sighs of relief were audible when he reached the other side. Theo shouted that the bridge creaked and cracked the entire way, and that we needed to take our time and mind our steps.
I went next. If the bridge made that much noise underneath the weight of a man and his horse, there was no good reason for me to attempt to cross with my horse and my heavy armor. I removed my armor and packed it up as well as I could. I would cross with that load alone, without my horse. I'd simply have to go back for him after leaving my armor behind and after the others had crossed. And, if the worst should happen as I crossed the first time, I would not have any heavy armor weighing me down. My sword, I kept in it sheath upon my belt. The armor could be replaced. The sword, however, was far more important. Even with less weight than what Theodore had taken across, I could feel the bridge bending underneath me, each clop of my hooves accompanied by a stomach turning creak. It was not a pleasant feeling, hanging in the air high above rock, brambles, and rushing waters. I suspect I leapt a bit as I reached the end of the bridge alongside Theo.
It was now Marek's turn. He dismounted and led his horse just like Theodore had done, slowly crossing over the bridge. He seemed to be stepping across just as lightly as Theodore.
He had crossed over half the bridge's span when the planks cracked underneath his horse's weight. The poor animal whinnied in fear as it stumbled over the edge, nearly taking Marek with him. Marek barely managed to leap away and further up the bridge as his horse fell into the river below. He hurried the rest of the way, the load on the bridge was much lighter but there was no guarantee the rest of the structure was not going to continue falling apart now that so much of it had broken away.
By the time he reached us the horse had almost made it to the shore on the other side after being swept further downriver. The beast was panicked As soon as he struggled out of the river he tore through the brambles, further panicking him.
Leo and Viktor hurried after the horse upon their own, and we could see in the distance that they were having to let the steed exhaust himself in order to safely handle him. When they returned to the others, we could see even from a distance that the poor thing was bloodied up.
We were reduced to shouting across the river as we considered our next step. The bridge now had quite a gap in it and if anything was less stable than it had been when Theo crossed it. Further crossings were out of the question.
Eventually we had to accept that the wisest course of action was for both groups to make their way northward until we found a suitable crossing. We knew the river would be taking us towards the bandit camp that we had attacked during our first day upon the Greenbelt, so there was at least one feasible crossing we were certain about.
And so we travel, slowly, northward; three men and one horse on the eastern side of the river, everyone else on the western side. Marek's frustration is almost palpable.
I pray we run into no further trouble before we can reunite with the others. It's a peculiar feeling, having them close by and yet so far away.
I am already weary of having to shout everything.
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Here's Paksenarrion. Very good, especially the second and third books.
Sorry for the threadjack, and more Liath, please!
This has been a great thread! Nice work and an interesting read.
Mikaze, please keep us up-to-date on the going-ons of your intrepid paladin. Be curious how things have played out.
Bump? Update please?
Just wanted to let everyone know that this game is still running, it's just he hasn't had much time to update. Also me(The GM) and Liath here and a couple of the other guys in the campaign will be at Gencon coming up. Don't know if any of you guys will be there, but hope to meet some fellow path finder people.
Hope someone's keeping good notes - we're all looking forward to the saga continuing!
Bump?
Day 34 - Evening
We've finally reunited, though the journey took us all the way back to the bandit camp where we fought Cressel and her men.
Marek saw to his horse, no doubt grateful that he seemed mostly alright despite that terrible fall into the river. We've taken care of what little healing he needed and though he is still a bit skittish he's doing quite well, all things considered.
We secured the area and are preparing to make camp. It's strange seeing it again, so seemingly unchanged after this past month. The platforms will no doubt be handy once it is time to take watch.
We'll need to remember this place, considering that the old bridge is certainly not a feasible option for us. It almost seems that it would be best to collapse what is left of the bridge entirely, if only to prevent any further misfortune for others.
Day 34 - Midnight
It is difficult to write when I feel more like kicking trees and uttering words I should not. It is for the best that I write, I suppose. I can only pray that now I can put my thoughts to paper secure in privacy.
I am getting ahead of myself.
Marek woke us up tonight. I immediately thought to grab my sword and bemoan that my armor was packed away as danger found us once more in the night, but there was no worry in Marek's tone as he woke us.
There were five cricket-fairies amongst us, bows slung over their shoulders and looking as friendly as Tigtittertug. Grigs, they called themselves. They had apparently approached Marek as he stood watch, asking what we were doing here. As it turns out, we have similar business in these lands; the grigs were about hunting for bandits. When Marek explained our purpose here, they become even more amiable, to the point that they were asking if we had any drink to share.
It was a bit of a thrill, speaking at ease with so many fey. I've learned not to assume that a member of one fey race knows all there is to know about another, considering that one of them asked if I was a satyr. Unlike old Bieran, I'm fairly certain he was sincere in his assumption. We told them we had befriended Perlivash and Tigtittertug as well, hoping to find some common associates between us. They knew of the pair, and though they spoke well of them for the most part, they also seemed to consider the two odd somehow. I've no inkling as to why, unless friendship between two differing races is more rare than I thought. The tilt of Viktor's head perhaps hinted that he may have some insight into the matter.
The campsite had taken on a somewhat festive air under the moonlight and stars, and one of the grigs even prepared to play his fiddle for us. All of us seemed to be share the mood, I thought, save for Je-Jarvick, who with typical lack of grace shouted from where he lay that our guests fall silent so that he could sleep. Unfortunately the old man's obvious foul manner only served to drive our guests to be even louder.
Jarvik finally propped himself up and beckoned for the grig with the fiddle to come closer. I thought our new friend was simply in for more of Jarvik's bile, but the old senile fool, without any thought to how it appeared to the others, put a sleeping spell upon the unsuspecting fiddler. When he fell, the other grig's immediately drew their bows on the man who cursed him.
The rest of us managed to calm the grigs down, thank the Inheritor, and woke the one who had been bespelled. Jarvik showed no gratitude for our having likely saved his life, and only continued to fuss as we shouted at him, going on about how he needed his rest lest disaster befall us all the next day.
Everyone seemed to have had their fill of the old man, and the rest of us were determined to not let him sour the night, particularly Viktor, who seemed quite taken with the fey population thus far. We moved away from camp a bit, with Theo staying behind to watch over Jarvik. I at least fully intended to enjoy what joys the folk of the Greenbelt were offering and was happy enough to leave Jarvik to that snakepit he calls a mind.
Things became quite pleasant for a time. What wine we had we shared freely, for which we were repaid with song that seemed at once as familiar as the music of my fellow Rostlanders and somehow different, with an unearthly quality to it. It made me think of home, the monastery, as well as places far away, the likes of which I had only heard of in stories so long ago.
I would rather dwell on the music. Looking back over my words, they strike me as far more angry and judgmental than I am comfortable with being, but perhaps it is best to put it down here rather than let it show itself more explosively later.
We were enjoying ourselves, conversing with our guests and each other at greater ease than we had for a long time. Then Leopold brought up this journal. He was enthusiastic to see how our "chronicles" had come along. I was at once relieved that his earlier intrusion into my privacy was an honest mistake and frustrated that he never seemed to understand the nature of this journal. Leo means well, he is a good friend, but he can be a poor listener at times once a concept has caught his fancy. He was excitedly going on about how all of us should begin keeping entries, with the possibility of publishing the tome upon our return. I fear my frustration began to show as I tried to explain just why I was keeping this journal, why I was using the routine to put my thoughts in order as I had during my recuperation as a child. I was flipping through its pages to show him an example of why I wanted to keep these words private, an example I was comfortable sharing even with a friend. And I saw it.
Sitting upon the page like a stain, those bitter uninvited words scrawled across my memory. Jarvik had gotten the book at some point, had intruded upon and read my thoughts and worries and left his careless mark upon them. I cannot remember feeling this violated since
Whatever the reaction upon my face, whatever words I had growled, Leo caught it, judging by his darkening expression. I was outraged. Where Leo's trespass had been innocent and well meaning, the old man, the one who offered me little more than scorn and mockery for my heritage, had no such excuse.
The others evidently saw the display and heard our words. The fiddler had a mischievous grin upon his face as he hopped up to us, saying that he heard us talking about the "mean old man". The grigs were planning to play a prank on him. I should have tried to dissuade them, but I bitterly approved. Marek suggested that if they truly wished to make Jarvik angry, they should leave as soon as they played their trick. The grigs thought it was a wonderful idea. I suspect Marek was tiring of their company. Or perhaps he did not wish to see the situation escalate beyond that. I was too angry to tell.
I could hear the grigs pass by us unseen, whispering and chuckling as I stomped back to our camp with Leo. We saw the flashes of light through the trees and could hear Jarvik's surprised cursing ahead of us. I would have smiled, I'm ashamed to say, if I had not been so furious.
He was entangled in vines that seemed to have burst from the ground when we found him. He seemed somewhat dazed, but that did not seem to hamper his ability to spew bile. He cursed and shouted threats at the grigs who had already left, demanded to know why were just standing there. I spat back at him, shouting that it was no less than he deserved. I held my journal in front of him and demanded that he explain himself. Not once, not once, did he show any hint of guilt. No sign that he was responsible for any wrongdoing. Instead he demanded to know why I was writing slander lies about him, what business I had to write down precisely what happens as I see it from day to day. And naturally he punctuated this with "demon".
It seemed clear to me then that there was no making this hateful old man see reason. I was prepared to settle. I simply demanded that he not touch the book again.
He took this as a threat. Apparently violence and its threat is the only language he truly appreciates. He had the gall to ask me, "Or what? You're going to hit an old man?"
I was dumbfounded that the old fool truly thought that was what I meant. And before I could say another word, Viktor chimed in "helpfully" that perhaps I would cut his arm off. As if that were a matter of jest.
I left before I did hit someone. Goddess forgive me, I dearly wished to at that point. There was yelling back and forth at the camp but I cared little to share in any more grief. Beyond hearing Leo kick Viktor after the latter lay down to sleep, I know not what else transpired as I spent the next half hour nearly cracking my hooves against the trees. Foolish and unbecoming, but I had to find some release.
Iomedae grant me the patience to not strike this man and send him back to Restov hogtied in a cart. I know not why the old bastard is with us anyway, but if it is simply to sow misery and discontent, he is doing a fantastic job of it.
It is late. I should get some sleep. I doubt I will be able.
Day 34 - Night
It is difficult to write when I feel more like kicking trees and uttering words I should not. It is for the best that I write, I suppose. I can only pray that now I can put my thoughts to paper secure in privacy.
I am getting ahead of myself.
Marek woke us up tonight. I immediately thought to grab my sword and bemoan that my armor was packed away as danger found us once more in the night, but there was no worry in Marek's tone as he woke us.
There were five cricket-fairies amongst us, bows slung over their shoulders and looking as friendly as Tigtittertug. Grigs, they called themselves. They had apparently approached Marek as he stood watch, asking what we were doing here. As it turns out, we have similar business in these lands; the grigs were about hunting for bandits. When Marek explained our purpose here, they become even more amiable, to the point that they were asking if we had any drink to share.
It was a bit of a thrill, speaking at ease with so many fey. I've learned not to assume that a member of one fey race knows all there is to know about another, considering that one of them asked if I was a satyr. Unlike old Bieran, I'm fairly certain he was sincere in his assumption. We told them we had befriended Perlivash and Tigtittertug as well, hoping to find some common associates between us. They knew of the pair, and though they spoke well of them for the most part, they also seemed to consider the two odd somehow. I've no inkling as to why, unless friendship between two differing races is more rare than I thought. The tilt of Viktor's head perhaps hinted that he may have some insight into the matter.
The campsite had taken on a somewhat festive air under the moonlight and stars, and one of the grigs even prepared to play his fiddle for us. All of us seemed to be share the mood, I thought, save for Je-Jarvick, who with typical lack of grace shouted from where he lay that our guests fall silent so that he could sleep. Unfortunately the old man's obvious foul manner only served to drive our guests to be even louder.
Jarvik finally propped himself up and beckoned for the grig with the fiddle to come closer. I thought our new friend was simply in for more of Jarvik's bile, but the old senile fool, without any thought to how it appeared to the others, put a sleeping spell upon the unsuspecting fiddler. When he fell, the other grig's immediately drew their bows on the man who cursed him.
The rest of us managed to calm the grigs down, thank the Inheritor, and woke the one who had been bespelled. Jarvik showed no gratitude for our having likely saved his life, and only continued to fuss as we shouted at him, going on about how he needed his rest lest disaster befall us all the next day.
Everyone seemed to have had their fill of the old man, and the rest of us were determined to not let him sour the night, particularly Viktor, who seemed quite taken with the fey population thus far. We moved away from camp a bit, with Theo staying behind to watch over Jarvik. I at least fully intended to enjoy what joys the folk of the Greenbelt were offering and was happy enough to leave Jarvik to that snakepit he calls a mind.
Things became quite pleasant for a time. What wine we had we shared freely, for which we were repaid with song that seemed at once as familiar as the music of my fellow Rostlanders and somehow different, with an unearthly quality to it. It made me think of home, the monastery, as well as places far away, the likes of which I had only heard of in stories so long ago.
I would rather dwell on the music. Looking back over my words, they strike me as far more angry and judgmental than I am comfortable with being, but perhaps it is best to put it down here rather than let it show itself more explosively later.
We were enjoying ourselves, conversing with our guests and each other at greater ease than we had for a long time. Then Leopold brought up this journal. He was enthusiastic to see how our "chronicles" had come along. I was at once relieved that his earlier intrusion into my privacy was an honest mistake and frustrated that he never seemed to understand the nature of this journal. Leo means well, he is a good friend, but he can be a poor listener at times once a concept has caught his fancy. He was excitedly going on about how all of us should begin keeping entries, with the possibility of publishing the tome upon our return. I fear my frustration began to show as I tried to explain just why I was keeping this journal, why I was using the routine to put my thoughts in order as I had during my recuperation as a child. I was flipping through its pages to show him an example of why I wanted to keep these words private, an example I was comfortable sharing even with a friend. And I saw it.
Sitting upon the page like a stain, those bitter uninvited words scrawled across my memory. Jarvik had gotten the book at some point, had intruded upon and read my thoughts and worries and left his careless mark upon them. I cannot remember feeling this violated since
Whatever the reaction upon my face, whatever words I had growled, Leo caught it, judging by his darkening expression. I was outraged. Where Leo's trespass had been innocent and well meaning, the old man, the one who offered me little more than scorn and mockery for my heritage, had no such excuse.
The others evidently saw the display and heard our words. The fiddler had a mischievous grin upon his face as he hopped up to us, saying that he heard us talking about the "mean old man". The grigs were planning to play a prank on him. I should have tried to dissuade them, but I bitterly approved. Marek suggested that if they truly wished to make Jarvik angry, they should leave as soon as they played their trick. The grigs thought it was a wonderful idea. I suspect Marek was tiring of their company. Or perhaps he did not wish to see the situation escalate beyond that. I was too angry to tell.
I could hear the grigs pass by us unseen, whispering and chuckling as I stomped back to our camp with Leo. We saw the flashes of light through the trees and could hear Jarvik's surprised cursing ahead of us. I would have smiled, I'm ashamed to say, if I had not been so furious.
He was entangled in vines that seemed to have burst from the ground when we found him. He seemed somewhat dazed, but that did not seem to hamper his ability to spew bile. He cursed and shouted threats at the grigs who had already left, demanded to know why were just standing there. I spat back at him, shouting that it was no less than he deserved. I held my journal in front of him and demanded that he explain himself. Not once, not once, did he show any hint of guilt. No sign that he was responsible for any wrongdoing. Instead he demanded to know why I was writing slander lies about him, what business I had to write down precisely what happens as I see it from day to day. And naturally he punctuated this with "demon".
It seemed clear to me then that there was no making this hateful old man see reason. I was prepared to settle. I simply demanded that he not touch the book again.
He took this as a threat. Apparently violence and its threat is the only language he truly appreciates. He had the gall to ask me, "Or what? You're going to hit an old man?"
I was dumbfounded that the old fool truly thought that was what I meant. And before I could say another word, Viktor chimed in "helpfully" that perhaps I would cut his arm off. As if that were a matter of jest.
I left before I did hit someone. Goddess forgive me, I dearly wished to at that point. There was yelling back and forth at the camp but I cared little to share in any more grief. Beyond hearing Leo kick Viktor after the latter lay down to sleep, I know not what else transpired as I spent the next half hour nearly cracking my hooves against the trees. Foolish and unbecoming, but I had to find some release.
Iomedae grant me the patience to not strike this man and send him back to Restov hogtied in a cart. I know not why the old bastard is with us anyway, but if it is simply to sow misery and discontent, he is doing a fantastic job of it.
It is late. I should get some sleep. I doubt I will be able.
Day 35
An uneasy quiet has settled over the group as we mapped out the area surrounding the abandoned bandit camp.
I for one am perfectly fine with that.
Marek seems to be the only one among us in any genuine good cheer. Leo is certainly trying to put the same face forth if only to lighten everyone else's moods.
Theo has suggested that we head east tomorrow, back out onto the rolling hills, in order to cover much of the ground we missed before in one fell swoop.
Leo has been speaking with me more about the supposed chronicle, still eager but far more subdued today. He thinks it would be a good idea for all of us to keep track of where we have been and what we have seen, not just for posterity but for practicality as our travels continue. I have to agree with him, it would be wise of us. When we next return to the trading post we'll need to see if Oleg can supply us with what we need. And if he cannot, perhaps this Professor Crate can help.
It would be good to have different viewpoints kept on our travels, if only to lend more objectivity and prevent a muddling of critical facts by one persepective alone.
Day 36 - Noon
We are being hunted.
It is hard to know how long they have been following us, but Theodore spotted them this morning when we left the treeline. Two large, hulking figures, seemingly misshapen from this distance. It is difficult to be sure of any further detail. They seem to be as large as trolls at least. They are keeping their distance, which makes it harder to be certain about how many of them there are.
Theo says that they are "thawns", giants known to prey upon travellers in the area. We've been keeping our pace, not letting on overly much that we know we're being followed. We're currently looking for a defensible position as we continue to ride. Hence the difficulty in writing. Hence the shortness in writing.
Storm soon, possibly. The sky is steel gray all around. That will only add to our troubles. We need to find a place to make our stand soon.