# Falling Leaves: Most unusual tales of the Moonsea (images included, 1st time poster)



## Nydia (Apr 19, 2004)

I'm posting this under Nydia's (my fiancee) account on her request (she's off to sleep already ). I'm sure she'll add some additional comments to this tomorrow. Anyway, this is her in-character journal for the Forgotten Realms campaign I'm the main DM for (everyone in the group has DM'd in this campaign at least once). Every character in the party has a fairly extensive history which is ussually kept from the other player's unless asked about in-game. The journal reflects this, showing only Nydia's point of view, but over time, the mysteries of each character are revealed bit by bit (this includes Nydia herself, which has some of the biggest secrets in the entire party).

I try to run a fairly unusual and, hopefully, interesting game as will come across in this campaign journal. It's a heck of an enjoyable read. For me at least though, it's more then that. I've been quite stunned by it, she does a great job of capturing so much of what was there and enhancing it all in just the right ways. I am also including a few images from the campaign (posting them all would take up way too much room).

Mostly though, I hope that all of you enjoy this ongoing story (more will be posted, the journal is a few months behind and she's working on posting the rest ). It's not my story as a DM, for honestly all my events are fairly mundane, it is the player's story. What truly makes a good tale interesting isn't the events surrounding it, but the people involved. It is that human drama that we all find fascinating and want to share in. Enjoy...

-Arravis

P.S.: Comments and suggestions are welcome, I'm sure she would love to hear what everyone thinks of this.



_In this world, we walk on the roof of hell, gazing at flowers._ -Issa

*30th of Alturiak, 1376 D.R.*
I am writing this journal in the pages of my old journal, as it, and my books and scrolls, were wiped clean during my "trip". I am loath to say that my scrolls and writings were not the only things taken from me by Her wrath. All my learning regarding the Art, all of my arcane wherewithall, is also gone. I cannot cast even the simplest of spells, nor can I feel my gift. For now I must rely upon what skills *a word here has been scribbled out, the word “she” has been written over it* has taught me. I only wish I had paid more attention to her instruction. If only…

I arrived in Phlan last week, having spent near a tenday trudging through that wood, and thus far I have learned nothing. The city’s once celebrated library is destroyed, as is the Scholar’s Square that once stood here. I can attempt to make it the long way to Candlekeep, but while I do have money enough for my passage, I don't have near enough to gain entrance to the library. This would never have happened back home. I must cease this entry for now. Someone is knocking at my door.  I wonder who it could possibly be this early in the morning?

Ahh.. The landlord. What could this be about? I’ve paid my room fees.

*30th of Alturiak, 1376 D.R.*
This morning found me evicted from my room at the inn, yet this evening finds me evicted from the city of Phlan altogether. Digging for what I could find in the old mansions, I found only a half ruined tome..and trouble. Why I did not run when I had the chance, I will never know. Perhaps it was my great desire for adventure, though if that was the case, I shouldn’t regret it so much. Perhaps it was as *a word here has been scribbled out, the word “he” has been written over it* had hoped to impart, a sense of righteousness and compassion? Whatever the reason may be, I now find myself in the company of four strangers.

I don't know any of their names. We were run from the city by guards intent on our deaths. What will become of us now, I do not know. What will become of my quest, I know still less. I only know now that I am cold, wet, and that I reek of sewage from the tunnels that we were forced to flee through to escape our peril.

It is night and we are outside the walls of the city. Even though the chill is enough to impress the Frostmaiden herself, we dare not light even the smallest fire. Wait..It would appear that the others wish to find a way back into Phlan now. I am being urged to go with them

It is now several hours later and we, a motley crew indeed, have made our way back into Phlan. After wandering through the cold night about the wall seeking entrance into the city, we were discovered by a guard patrol led by the fair Lt. Evandor. An explanation of our plight earned us an audience with Geth, one of Phlan’s esteemed councilors. Geth promised justice to the young elven child, whose name I now know to be “The Snake,” and to the centaur, whose name is still unknown to me.

We were all escorted then to “Mother’s” a poor quality but oddly inviting inn, where we were promised shelter. Daggers and men skulking through the night to end our lives rendered that promise worthless. We were set upon, not even an hour later, and the child, “The Snake,” became poisoned.

I was forced to attack a man... I very nearly killed him. I’ve always known that at some point I would be forced to kill someone, and I was even trained knowing that that would be my lot in life…but still, I couldn't bear to watch that man die. I would be like watching _it_ all over again.

I just couldn’t do it! I used one of my few healing potions to save his life. The guards took him away. I don’t know his name either. 

“The Snake” was brought to The Waiting, a temple devoted to the God, Tyr, where he received the healing that he needed to purge the vile poison from his body. When we had walked into the temple, it became readily apparent that Geth’s promise of justice had been premature as well. Stretchers and litters soaked with blood lay everywhere, and nearly 20 men moaned and bled around us.

To ease “The Snake” I played my harp for him. Music truly is the most wonderful medicine. I played until he slept, and then continued to play afterwards, calming the hearts of whoever I could. It warms my own heart to do such good. My strings sang until I could play no longer. Now I too am compelled to sleep. Perhaps tomorrow will see the sun shining more brightly. The moans have died down and the wounded sleep. I will dream sweet dreams of being elsewhere, in a place far from this.

*1st of Ches, 1376 D.R.*
Today was a busy day, but at least I was allowed a bath. The worst seems to have passed, and I have learned that Aelthas Jelabras, the man who ordered “The Snake’s” troupe killed and the centaur’s captivity, has finally been apprehended. Hopefully, he will get what he deserves.

I helped heal the infirm once more and sang stories for the wounded men. I really should play in temples more often. The wounded men were eager to hear my voice, and that of my harp as well. I did find it odd to find “The Snake” leaning over me when I awoke. I wonder if he considers me an angel... I wonder why that bothers me.

*2nd of Ches, 1376 D.R.*
Having not much else to do for a short while this morning, we took in a little shopping. I, and “The Snake,” and Mattathias Vallare (I have learned that this is the name of the priest of Ilmater who shares our plight) partook of delicious apple muffins at the local bakery, Half A Loaf.

Following that, I ventured into the city’s doll shop. How it reminded me so much of home! I had no idea all those pretty halfling dolls I asked for cost so much! Afterwards, we stopped at the alchemists’s shop, Potent Potables. Mithras Talant (this is the name of the tall moody elf who is caught up in this as well) suggested that we seek out employment. Upon our arrival at the mercenary posting board, however; we learned that the someone had employment in mind for us already. We were instructed to report to the Training Hall. When we arrived there, we were hired to do some task for an elven bowyer in town.

That elven bowyer, Lando, has tasked us to collect some fallen limbs from the Blackwood trees, and some Silverwood tree sap for his bow-crafting. We accepted and will be leaving for the forest tomorrow. By the way, I am writing this at the Paladin’s Mount Inn, as we were all kicked out of Mother’s Inn because of the attack.

*3rd of Ches, 1376 D.R.*

We ventured out of the city early this morning, though I fear it wasn’t early enough for Mithras. After partaking of a relaxing bath at the Paladin’s Mount Inn, I was sitting down to a delicious breakfast, but I soon found that tall grouch looming over me, demanding that I hurry up. He had already collected "The Snake" from his room, and was carrying the child slung over his shoulder. It hardly seemed to matter to Mithras that the boy was still asleep. Apparently, when Mithras said “early” he meant much earluer than a few hours before noon. I should have told him to leave and then found myself a nice job in town. Damn these bardic yearnings!

Sure enough, I knew there would be more to this job than gathering sticks and tree sap.We've been tramping through mud holes and puddles for hours, and my boots are ruined, along with my expensive silken hose! The hem of my dress is filthy! Oh..it now has a hole in it also. My feet are blistered and they ache. My back and legs hurt. How I can be the only one of us not hating this I do not know!

Mithras has been a callous creep this whole trip. He treats me like less of a person than he simply because I'm Human. Hah! I'm not even entirely Human, but he doesn't need to know that. He reminds me a lot of *the word here has been scribbled out* sometimes. It’s really hard not to say anything. I guess it would be even harder telling the truth.

The centaur (I still don’t know his name) is overjoyed to get out of Phlan.
He had spent the past few days in that city living in a small grove near to The Waiting. He is still gruff, but I can see that he, at least, tries to be polite. Or, at least I think he is. It’s hard to be sure sometimes... He would be easier to read if he wasn’t as moody as Mithras.

“The Snake” also is happy to be out of the confines of the city. I feel for him..I really do. He told us that he had been with a traveling group of performers that had been invited to entertain at Jelabras's mansion in Phlan. For reasons unknown to the child, Jelabras had decided to have the entire troupe killed. "The Snake" had just barely managed to escape with his own life. If it hadn't been for the centaur, whom the elfling had found imprisoned in Jelabras's stables, he likely would have been killed as well.In a matter of just a few seconds, he lost everyone that he cared about. He has taken to staying with me, and I have reassumed the role of older sister, though my own younger sibling was never so needing of one.

The child and the centaur have been playing nearly the entire way. They are both so caked with mud that if it weren’t for the centaur’s four legs, I wouldn’t be able to tell one from the other!

Mattathias has been very quiet this whole day. I hear he stays in the grove with the centaur and Mithras. It's hard to imagine a Grayrobe doing anything foul, but still..I hope that they know him better than I do.

I ran out of blue ink and I was forced to borrow this black ink from Mattathias.
I’m not too partial to it actually. Black is so unromantic. What was it that Aven had said once? “An entire world of mystery in a tiny little black tear drop”? Was that it? Wow…I can’t believe I ever dated him.

I need to stop writing for now..Mithras us glowering at me again. Time to continue the trek to the forest. It's hard to believe we’re only halfway there.

It is now later in the evening and much has happened! Our arrival into the Quivering Forest was uneventful, and after an hour we had the fifteen limbs we were sent to retrieve. It took another few minutes before we had the tree sap, but things got interesting at that point.

A man’s horrified yell shattered the sweet serenity of the wood, and before I knew what was happening, Mithras and the centaur were charging in that direction. A lone traveler and his horse had been waylaid by a small group of goblins and their kin! The battle was fierce, but in the end we were the victors!

Most of us were wounded, myself included, but I fear that I fared the best, aside from Mattathias who was wounded not at all. The centaur was mightily injured. He took the brunt of the goblins' rage. Mithras was hurt badly as well, but he fought bravely, scattering many of the little green beasties and killing many others. “The Snake” was hurt the worst of our group.

I believe he attempted to come to my aid when I was attacked, and the goblin nearly killed him with one swipe of that rusty sword that it carried. Thankfully, Mithras killed it before it could finish the act, allowing me time to staunch our little friend's bleeding. Mattathias used his divine gifts to heal him and the others. My wound was not so terrible, and I managed to clean and bandage it myself. 

The hidden armor that I wear under my dresses has a lovely slice in it now, and my dress is now ruined completely beyond repair. Oh well, I truly can’t complain. I at least I got to play again tonight. I was pleasantly surprised when Mithras asked me to play for him. Who am I to turn that down?

I was even more surprised when he apologized to me for being so surly all day. Of course, he is still an uptight creep, but I think there might actually be a nice sweet man trapped in that Elven body of his afterall. I played “Dance of the Rose Faeries” for him, and he danced along with the music. He dances very well as a matter of fact. He uses his hands very skillfully when he fights, _and _ when he dances. Would it be naughty of me to wonder if he uses them well at other things? I had better take my mind off such things. Men are trouble, and I haven’t the time for any relationships.

Tonight we are camping with the traveler. His name is Stedd, and we have learned that he is taking the horse so that he can sell it in nearby Melvaunt. He seems sweet enough. I think I dressed my leg correctly, but it feels like it is on fire. Hopefully it won't hurt quite so much in the morning. I wonder if it will scar.

Playing tonight reminded me so much of her. I didn’t remember it until afterwards, but “Dance of the Rose Faeries” was the very first song that I ever played for her in its entirety. Please forgive me, wherever you are. All of you, please forgive me.

_When the full moon looms above,_
_And the cool wind blows through the trees,_
_I think of you, expecting to hear_
_Your laughter in the breeze._

P.S. I need to find out what “Ithuldin” means. Mithras called me that. I hope it means something good, and not something insulting or degrading. 
That creep.

*Below is the great group image by Doc Midnight (thanks again!), with a few minor photoshop edits by Arravis to fit in-game developments*


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## Nydia (Apr 19, 2004)

*4th of Ches, 1376 D.R.*
We arrived back in Phlan this morning and my exhaustion is nearly overwhelming. Immediately upon setting foot into the city, Mithras "insisted" that we make our way to Lando’s Bow Shop to collect our fee. From there we went to the mercenary guild, where we received the other half of our fee, a free week of training! They must really have owed Lando a favor. I’ve decided to take them up on their offer. The Talaxian Duelist training sounds splendid! Graceful…elegant…stylish… I can’t wait to try it! First though, I need to rest. Today was mostly walking hither and yon, and my feet want to fall off.

I can’t believe that I hadn’t noticed how near it is to the 19th…. It was winter when I left home, so I'm not sure why I hadn't noticed before. It's not as if the date should have crept up on me. It happens the same time every year. How odd this feels though. Maybe I hadn't noticed because I've been trying not to think about it. The 19th of Ches is my birthday….but how ever should I celebrate it? _Should_ I celebrate it? I shouldn’t think of such things now…my mind is too weary. Tomorrow..

*5th of Ches, 1376 D.R.*
Today was a truly good day! I felt like playing my harp, and the taproom of the Paladin's Mount Inn looked like such an inviting place. When I tried, however, Jaroff informed me that the Inn didn't host musical acts. I don't know why. It would liven the place up considerably. He did direct me to a tavern called the Jaded Jester though, which he claimed hosts a sort of amatuer night for bards some evenings.

Oh! Nym is the actual name of “The Snake!”. I’m glad to know his real name. Nym will be much easier to write than “The Snake.”

The Jester opened in the evening, but it turned out that that same evening was one of their amateur nights! I was delighted!  I took that much needed rest, and then both Nym and myself went to the tavern when it opened. 

I still have no idea what to do regarding the 19th, but I feel much more optimistic after my evening at the Jaded Jester. My performance wasn’t the best, admittedly, but it felt wonderful to play for an actual audience again. Well, actually I got to play when I wasn’t dodging rotten fruit... It would seem that the patrons of the Jester show up on amateur night just so they can hurl old vegetables. Still, it felt nice…it had been so long! I have a lovely bruise on my eye now, and it looks like I got socked during a alley brawl! Melons really hurt.

Tomorrow we begin our lessons at the mercenary guild…Talaxian Duelist! Should be fun! Speaking of which, I’d better retire for the evening…I need to be there nice and early. First though, I should find something cold to put over my eye.

_Alley cats yawn wide._
_Refuse, in wind it rustles._
_A flower blooms full._

*6th of Ches, 1376 D.R.*
Ohhhhh....I’m so tired... my arms and legs ache so much... The training today... it was worse than the marching to the Quivering Forest. I never believed that duelist training would be this painful… I hurt so much…. I hope tomorrow will be better. I don’t think it can get much worse than this...My head hurts... need to sleep... Will write more tomorrow...How dare that man tell me to clean the floor with my tongue!

*7th of Ches, 1376 D.R.*
Today was not quite so bad as yesterday...but it still hurts. It seems that the first day serves to “weed out the weak” so to speak. Today’s lesson focused primarily on concentration, something I could always use more of. Wow does it ever remind me of the lessons I had to endure back at home! I’m really beginning to enjoy the training! Wielding a rapier is so dashing! I feel like a swashbuckler or a pirate!

Arrghhhh! Avast ye mateys! Make wit yer plunder or I’ll keelhaul yer ship and make ye all walk de plank!

It sounds so…so…adventurous..so romantic and wonderful! Like all the stories I used to read before I came here. Caftan the Blackguard and his Dread Ship Dragonflame! I miss those novels…

_Shadows dance through night;_
_The silver ray pierces through,_
_A triumph is had._

*12th of Ches, 1376 D.R.*
The lessons are wearing on me more than I ever anticipated they would... I’ve been too tired to write these past few days. My hands cramp so much from gripping the rapier. My head and eyes hurt from the focus training. I can’t believe how out of practice I’ve become… All this time in Phlan has softened me up.

I pray that I’ll get my gifts back soon. Curse Mystra for robbing me of them! I only hope nobody tries to follow me here. Despite the fact that I can’t cast anymore, I have a feeling that I’ve gotten off lucky. I don’t know what I would do if any of the rest attempted to follow me and met a worse fate. That’s my worst fear… That my actions could cause that again…

*16th of Ches, 1376 D.R.*
I had been so wrapped up in the Talaxian Duelist training that I hadn’t realized how close it has grown to the 19th! I can’t believe it never dawned on me! How could I forget my own birthday!? This all just feels so terribly odd…how do I celebrate it this time? _Do_ I?

I know I asked this once already..but I still don’t know. Technically, I suppose I shouldn’t…but it would be stranger yet not to. How can I avoid celebrating my own brithday? It’s all so confusing…

On the bright side, tomorrow is the last day of the training. It’s been a great deal of fun... if not horribly exhausting, but I have no desire to continue with it immediately after this lesson is over. I may pick it up again someday, but right now I have not the time. In fact, I feel that I am hitting a dead-end here in Phlan. I cannot achieve my ends here. I lack the experience.

The others seem content to stay though. Even the centaur is adapting to the city. I have grown so accustomed to Nym, Mattathias, Mithras, and the centaur that I would really hate to leave them. I consider them my friends. I just wish that I didn’t have to lie to them... That must be the price for my errors. It truly is a slippery slope....

I really think I understand her better now, going through all of this. I only wish that I had listened to good advice when it was given. Why do I have to be so damn stubborn?! Maybe *word scribbled out* was right, and I really have no idea how the world really works. Or maybe I’m just too selfish to care… Either way, I’m a fool.

*17th of Ches, 1376 D.R.*
Today was the final day of our free week of Talaxian Duelist training.
In a way, I’m happy that it's over. The training was hard on my body, but I know I needed the conditioning. Though it also bolstered my concentrative prowess, it gave me headaches and eye-strain. I suppose I shouldn’t be complaining though. Complaining never got anybody anywhere. Action is the key, as father would say.

I remember his lectures: whole worlds are created and destroyed by a single man’s oblivious action. Now I almost miss getting in trouble... I miss those lectures so damn much, but pining for the past never got anyone anywhere either. He'd said that too...

I am sad that the training has ended too. In its most superficial form, it kept my mind off everything else. Beyond that, it renewed my confidence, honed my skills and resolve, and it _was _ fun. I’ve found very little avenue for fun in Phlan... not even the Jaded Jester raises my spirits anymore. I imagine that if I was the sort of girl who enjoyed a few pints of ale and the company of brawny gentlemen, I would have a much better time in this city.

Seeing all of the young men in armor....it reminds me so much of Samostil. I never realized before I came here just how much I took him for granted. I wish he was here now so I could apologize to him. I could tell him that I'm not just a flighty little spoiled brat. At least, not anymore… Of course, I may never see him, or Aven, or even that bastard Leddit ever again. They will all grow older, get married, and have happy lives, and forget all about me. I can’t say that it would be any less than I deserve…but still it hurts. 

What kind of person was I to kiss Samostil just so spite Leddit? Samostil didn’t deserve that, even if he did call me spoiled and heartless afterwards. He deserved better than to have me leading him about by the nose...

My last candle is burning low so I must stop. I just wish it wasn’t on such a depressing note.

*18th of Ches, 1376 D.R.*
Talaxian Duelist training is over and I ought to be resting, but I just can’t bring myself to do so. Tomorrow is the 19th and I’ve come no closer to my goal than I was the very first day I walked into Phlan!

I feel like crying… Am I never to go home again? I know that that really isn’t the cause of my anguish..I promised her that I would right what I did, and I haven’t. That’s the rub. Even though I know I cannot possibly do it at this moment, it weighs no less heavily upon my heart.

I need to talk to someone, but I can’t. I can’t tell anyone the truth. Nobody would believe me, or even worse they would! I’ve considered talking to Mattathias, but the burns on his legs frighten me.

I went to The Waiting instead, to seek atonement for her, for what I’ve done. I was told to return tomorrow morning. My heart aches, but there is nothing I can do except wait for tomorrow.

*19th of Ches, 1376 D.R.*
I received the details of my atonement today. Holondos Stimpiir, the head priest at The Waiting, said that in order to find what I was looking for, I should volunteer my time and energy helping the unfortunate. He said that I have known misfortunate, hunger, and poverty little in my life ...and he’s right. I should toil to make things better for no less than one week.

The work will be difficult, but I’m ready… I begin tomorrow. I haven’t seen the others today and that’s intentional. This is none of their business. Besides, it would just be too hard to explain. I will accept my punishment silently and stoically. As it is, I begin at the crack of dawn tomorrow, so I need to get some rest. Hopefully, there will be more to tell in my next entry.

Happy Birthday to me...

*20th of Ches, 1376 D.R.*
Today’s work was agony. We began before sunrise, meeting at a rather rundown building on the poorer side of New Phlan. Our job (myself, a few more volunteers sent by The Waiting, and a couple of trained carpenters) was to help renovate the structure so that it could be used as low priced homes for the city’s indigent.

We hauled lumber and nails around the site, helped raise scaffolding, drove stakes and nails and rivets, and even painted a little. It wasn’t so hard until the sun came up. It’s amazing how even a small amount of sun can make your body so exhausted and your sweat flow so much. We did break for lunch, and then we worked inside during the hottest weather, but it was still oppressively exhausting. It’s no less than I deserve I know. I’m so tired...

I’d hate to cut this entry so short today, but I begin again tomorrow at the same time as this morning. I need to sleep.

*22nd of Ches, 1376 D.R.*
I’m so tired… We laid the stone floor on the bottom floor today. My hands are sore and scratched, my nails are cracked and broken. I’m filthy.

I think I’ll take a long hot soak after I’m finished writing for the evening. I feel good on the inside though. I feel that I am doing some real good for the people of Phlan. My heart feels at peace.

I saw the others today, at the Grove. We’ve all taken to eating our supper there some evenings. I still prefer the Paladin’s Mount, as austere as it is…I don’t feel wholly at ease in Mielikki’s Grove.  Still, it is heavenly to dine under the stars and the leafy boughs of the trees.

Nym left the Paladin’s Mount and moved into the Grove with the others, leaving me at the inn by myself. It’s more peaceful, but it can be lonely at times. Jaroff, the Paladin owner, isn’t much of a conversationalist.

I miss home. Home was never lonely! Someone was always there. Uncle Mirt was always there. I wonder if he’s there now, he was so old when I left. I wonder if he’s dead...

I miss that damn pig! I even miss father. The sooner I get back to them, the better. I only hope it doesn’t continue to take so long.

*25th of Ches, 1376 D.R.*
Atonement is half over and I already know I’ll miss this when I’m done. The first floor is finally finished and the first few families moved in this morning. It felt good to see how happy and grateful they were. That made all this pain worth it.

We begin the second floor tomorrow. Our scaffoldings were erected today. The floor is going to be wood, so hopefully we won’t have to lug too many stones or bricks. Besides going up and down the steps, the work should be easier.
Of course, this _is_ my atonement, so I’m not sure I should even be worrying about it being easier... Guess I’ll never be a saint.

I saw the others again in the Grove for dinner. Makes me wonder how long I will remain in Phlan, and if I’ll be leaving alone when I do. It would be difficult arranging things so that the others will do what I need to do, but I would greatly appreciate the company.  Even if it does come from grumpy old Katar (that’s the centaur’s name! I finally know it!), surly Mithras, gloomy Mattathias, and hyper-active Nym.

*30th of Ches, 1376 D.R.*
Sorry...I haven’t written anything in the past few days, but there simply wasn’t anything new to write about. That, and I was simply too exhausted to make journal entries.

Today was my final day of volunteering, well, atonement. In truth, it did little to ease my own guilt over her and what I had done. But, it did help take my mind off it at least... I don’t know if I should feel bad for being grateful I didn’t think of her and all my birthdays gone by.  It eases my heart and I’m grateful for that, but I can’t help but feel a little bit selfish.

I saw the others again for dinner. They are planning to throw a party outside the walls tomorrow night. That should be fun, especially after all my hard work.

*1st of Tarsakh, 1376 D.R.*
It’s late and I don’t think I’ll be up for too much longer tonight. The party was great fun! Not having to be up at the crack of dawn was splendid! I needed the rest so badly… though I do feel bad for leaving when everyone else is working so hard...

Speaking of the slums and the tenement building though... some acquaintances of Mattathias’s met up with him today in town. There were three of them, and two were disguised as a couple being evicted from their home by a cruel landlord.  The other was the landlord himself.  The two being “evicted” begged Mattathias for help as we were going by with our party supplies. We were unable to talk the landlord out of evicting them, so we escorted them to The Waiting so that Mattathias could request housing for them at the tenement that I helped build.

Of course, when Mattathias emerged, the three had shed their disguises and revealed themselves to be an aging knight? who identified himself as Huran, a one-armed monk female named Anassa?  Onassa? Arassa? Something like that. The third of them was a tall blonde bard who was actually pretty handsome if I must say. They said they had come to test Mattathias. Apparently, he passed, and they joined us at our party.

Like I said, the party was a lot of fun! We drank, some of us only a little, some of us a lot (Katar!). Nym played with the ladder of Elminster that he purchased at the doll shoppe. Most of us played a few hands of Talos.
I lost nearly a gold! That blonde bard is good, or very lucky.  He claims it’s the latter, I think it’s the former.

After losing out at Talos, we played a game that Katar showed us.
It involves wrapping small items in cloth, tossing the bundles into the branches of a tree of medium height, and then shooting them down with your bow. I’ve seen it played before..in *two words scribbled out*.

Yish! That’s the blonde bard’s name. He asked me for a lock of my hair to toss into the tree. I was flattered, but I just had to refuse. I don't know Yish well enough to be offering parts of my body to him, even if it is just a lock of hair.

I remember my relationship with Aven, and I remember the young hopefuls at New Olamn...charming as can be, but they practically leave scorch marks when they leave! Oh well...

Still he is very handsome. I'll bet he has a woman waiting for him in every city on the Moonsea though. I guess I’ll never have much luck in the romance department. I shouldn’t be looking anyway, I know that. Still, it does invigorate the heart… Another time, Nydia, another time... when you're home with your family.

Right now, Nym is asleep. I believe Mithras is asleep. Katar is passed out drunk. Mattathias is over talking with Anassa? Huran is silently standing watch (I don’t think he said four words the entire evening!), and the handsome Yish is over to the side playing a piece that I've never heard on his lute. The campfire is dying down and I’ll soon not have enough light to see by. Sweet dreams…

*2nd of Tarsakh, 1376 D.R.*
Nothing of any real importance happened today, but I did get a little shopping in. I took Katar with me this time. Talking with him is always fascinating. It angers me sometimes just how naïve he really is. It would be so easy for someone to take advantage of him..but despite his complete lack of street-smarts, he isn’t stupid.

I taught him about money today..or at least, I _tried_ to teach him about money. Poor Katar, he spends so much of what little he has far too often. Maybe if he knows its value he’ll be willing to save a little more.

Right about now, he and Nym are probably trying to get into the Temple of Sune here. The Temple is having some kind of party tonight, and I know both Nym and Katar were interested in seeing what it was all about. Mattathias declined to go, same as I.

I don’t know where Mithras is. He went to look for work earlier today, and we haven’t seen him since. I guess he found something. Oh well, I hope Nym and Katar are having more fun than I am. Goodnight.

*3rd of Tarsakh, 1376 D.R.*
Another dull day overall. Well, not for the owners of Half-A-Loaf actually.
It was destroyed in the wee hours this morning. I went there this morning to get a buttered apple muffin for breakfast, like I do every morning, and found the place in ruins. Someone robbed the place of all the apple muffins. Odd. They didn't take anything else...just smashed the place up and absconded with the apple muffins. I feel terribly for the owners. The party pooled together some money and offered it to them. 

Ahhhhh yesss that’s right… I found out what Mithras was doing last night. Turns out he _did _ find a job, like I had thought... wearing a loincloth and looking really pretty! He was hired as a guard at that party at the Temple of Sune last night. I would have paid to see him all dressed up and dolled up!

Oh I hope he didn’t scowl too much! Hate is so unattractive! There’s another party at the Temple of Sune later this week. Maybe he’ll get hired again. Hahahahaha!

_Buttery, crumbly little treat_
_Apple muffins nice and sweet_
_So moist and brimming with heat_
_Now whatever shall I eat?_

*Below is the low-res image Arravis made of the Phlan jobs board*


----------



## Nydia (Apr 19, 2004)

*4th of Tarsakh, 1376 D.R.*
There was another robbery today. This time it was Jerome’s General Store that was hit. I heard all of their ale was taken. Strange...

The others are over at the tenement building right now, staking out the slums, trying to catch the people responsible for these crimes. I’m in my room at the Paladin’s Mount, and I have to admit that it’s pretty damn boring here. Having a retired Paladin as the owner has its advantages, but it has its disadvantages too. For one, there’s never anything interesting going on here! They never have any shows, no fights ever break-out in the common room. The only things that do go on in the common room are quiet card games and private conversations! 

Even now, I can’t hear anything going on in the rooms next door and across the hall from mine. I can hear the street below my window just fine, and I can vaguely hear pots and pans clattering downstairs. It’s so unbelievably boring here. But it’s early yet, so it might pick up. Hahahaha! That was a joke. I think I’ll go join the others on their stake-out. Catching a criminal could be fun. Spying on people should prove interesting at any rate...more interesting than spending the night here.

*6th of Tarsakh, 1376 D.R.*
Well, I’m writing this early morning on the 6th. As it turns out, last night _was_ more interesting than staying at the Paladin's Mount. I’m at the courthouse at the moment and the sun is just now beginning to rise. The stake-out wasn't much of a success, but we did discover, quite accidentally, that an undead Nat Wyler has been causing all of the break-ins. He managed to ransack the Gilded Lily, _and_ broke into a woman's house before we found him. He was just sitting there in the woman's rocking chair, watching her sleep, clutching a small box of scented talcum powder in one hand, and a clump of dead flowers in the other. It was such a bizarre scene, but it was also a little sad. I wonder who he was trying to visit?

Mithras is _such_ an ASS! Sorry, I’m still a little upset over this. We had a confrontation earlier this morning. There was a large fight at Nat Wyler’s Bell, a local tavern. The tavern’s owner, an aggravating little Gnome named Gnahac Gnarlnose, owed the wrong people money apparently, and they sent some enforcers to collect. There were five thugs and our party took them all down. Katar killed three of them himself. I didn’t know that there was a thieve’s guild in Phlan, but it would appear that I was wrong. The two thugs who survived were taken into custody.

As it turns out, Nat Wyler had been raised from the dead by a particularly vengeful priest of Waukeen. We managed to garner this information from Gnahac, who proved very willing to speak to us after we had rescued him. The priest's name is Vilek Tantamon, and he is _disgusting_ in every way imaginable! One of my older sisters used to say that some people were born entirely without taste, and I used to think her petty for feeling that way, but after speaking to that obnoxious lout I believe her. I would try to describe the inside of his house, but some things just cannot be put into words. It was ghastly! I was so annoyed that I swiped a gold pen case off one of his shelves. That was wrong, I know, but I was angry and it felt good.

What angers me the most, however, is Mithras. It very nearly came to blows between us! After the priests from The Waiting returned Nat Wyler to his slumber, Mithras unleashed his rage upon Tantamon. He had the cleric by the throat and I think he would have killed him if I hadn't stopped him. When I got him to release Tantamon, he started screaming at me. He called me a pest, a blight upon the world, a disease! He said that I had no right to question him! He dare he say those things to me! He doesn’t even know me! The ridiculous jerk! He wouldn't listen to a word I was trying to say! It was infuriating!  Mithras can choke on his precious Elven pride for all I care! I bet I don’t even get an apology from him either when this is all over!

Pompous ASS!
Pompous No-good Elven ASS!

I haven’t seen him since the fight. I haven’t seen _any _ of the others in fact. Nat Wyler walking around was sad, but it must have affected them far more than it affected me. I guess they’ve never had any experiences with undead before. 

I suppose it makes sense. I can still remember my first encounter with one of father’s zombies…

Damn... I think I may be running out of ink again... I will have to pay a visit to Potent Potables today. I’d better go back to the Paladin’s Mount and get some sleep. Yes, definitely more ink.

Damn Mithras!

*30th of Tarsakh, 1376 D.R.*
I cannot adequately describe the HELL that was today! It started off like any other day, but isn’t that how _all_ horrid days begin? I had just risen from bed this morning, and was practicing my harp before my bath when the warning horn began to sound. I had never heard it before, and I didn't know what it meant, but I knew that something was wrong when the normally quiet people in the Paladin’s Mount began to scream and bolt from their rooms.

I managed to stop a man fleeing down the hall with his belongings long enough to ask what was going on, and I was told that the horn that was sounding was the dragon alert. Well, quickly I threw my stuff in my bags and carried them downstairs. I must've taken longer than I had wanted, because by the time I had made it downstairs, only myself and Jaroff remained in the Mount. Jaroff had donned his armor, and had told me that I needed to leave quickly.

I went to the stable and loaded up Cotton, the donkey that I had purchased this past week. He’s a stubborn animal, but thankfully he isn’t too mean. I found Jaroff readying his warhorse and wished him all the luck I could. I haven't seen him since. I hope nothing terrible happened to him...

After Jaroff thundered out of the stable on his war charger, I led Cotton out of the stable. The street outside of the inn was packed with screaming terrified humanity. Already, I had lost sight of Jaroff, miraculously, but I _could _ see the dragon coming… I had to fight my way through those people, clinging to Cotton's lead with a death-grip, but I didn’t follow the crowd. I fought my way through to the alleyway across the street.

Cotton and I kept to that alley, and I’m very glad that we did! We hadn't run 30 feet down that alley before that massive red dragon swooped down in all of its terrifying glory and landed with a heart-wrenching crunch down upon the roof of the Paladin’s Mount. I could still see Half of the inn collapsed immediately, forcing the dragon to actually step down into the street. I know that it had to have crushed people, they were all packed so tightly together...

I thought that the dragon was going to open with its fiery breath, but for a few moments it just sat there staring down at the streets so packed with flesh below it as if it wasn’t entirely impressed.  I’m certainly no expert on the motives of dragons, but I could swear that it was smiling as it did so! Finally, after those few fleeting moments were done, it lowered its massive head and began to gorge itself on the citizens of Phlan.

The crunching sounds and the screams..they were all so horrible… I tried not to listen as I led Cotton further down that alleyway toward the Stojanow gate. 

I was halfway to Kuto’s Well Road when I saw Mithras just standing there in the middle of the street, staring at the dragon! Terrified citizens were screaming, and pouring down the road all around him, but Mithras just stood there, unmoving, staring at the dragon! I screamed as loudly as I could for him to come to the alleyway, but he couldn't hear me over everyone else. I tried waving at him, but that didn't work either. Mithras is just tall enough that I could make out his shoulders and head above the fleeing Phlanians, but I imagine that he wouldn't have seen me at all. Finally, I reached down and grabbed a brick from one of the newer buildings, and I threw it at him. Thankfully, it hit his shoulder, jarring him enough from the sight of the dragon that he looked around for who had thrown it. That's when he caught sight of me, frantically waving and shouting at him to come over to where I was. He just stood there for a moment or two, and I swear from the look I saw on his face that he didn't recognize me. When I finally did see the recognition dawn on his eyes, he made his way through the crowd over to my alleyway. He sounded like he was in a trance....he just kept asking me what he should do. I _ordered_ him to find Mattathias, Nym, and Katar and then bring them to the Grove. I told them I would meet them all there. He nodded, like he really hadn't heard me at all, and then walked back out into the street. 

Please believe me when I say that I’m not a coward. True, I was fleeing for the gate, but I didn’t see how Phlan could possibly stand against a rampaging great red wyrm. Nobody in the entire city, that I knew of, could possibly have stood against that dragon. Mystra, thank all that's holy, didn't rob me completely of my gift, and it _is_ coming back, little by little, but what good were my paltry _magic missiles_ going to do against that dragon?! I can still only create one missile, and that's not even enough to kill an orc! I had decided that it was time to leave the city while we still had the chance. I sent Mithras to gather the others because I didn't want them to die either. 

Obviously, Mithras must not have heard me, because nobody else made it to the Grove! I sat there in that grove and waited for them and they never showed up! On the way there I had seen the armed and mounted city guard making their way toward the dragon, and I had learned that every battle ready priest and wizard in Phlan had gone to fight the wyrm. From what I could see, nothing was having much of an effect on the creature. As it continued to feed, and spells and arrows continued to fly, it was all that I could do to keep myself from just grabbing Cotton's lead and getting out of that city. Miraculously, or so I had thought at the time, the dragon just raised his head into the air, spread out his wings, and flew off back towards the mountains. I was stunned. I was fully expecting that dragon to level the entire city!

While I sat and continued to wait for the others, I overheard a conversation between two guards that were standing a few feet away from me. From what they were saying, Aelthas Jelabras had escaped during the attack. Aelthas Jelabras, the man who had enslaved Katar and ordered the deaths of Nym's family, was free once more. 

When I heard that, I immediately sought out the others. I found them at the ruins of what _was_ the Paladin’s Mount. It looked like the rest of the inn had collapsed at some point, and where the structure had been standing, a large hole had opened up in the ground. 

Mithras, Nym, Mattathias, and Katar, as well as several of The Waiting’s priests, and a large number of others, stood peering down into this hole. I ran up to the edge with them, and I could see and hear survivors down in the rubble. Ropes were being lowered down so that the wounded cold be brought up to safety. I went to help, accepting a rope from a generous elf that was standing near, and nearly broke my tailbone trying to descend.

The rope was dustier than I thought it was, and my hands slipped. I landed right on my behind. It felt like agony..but what I found down there made me forget it all! In the hole stood a crumbling statue of a man with incredibly long arms. One of the arms was broken, but the other was intact, and at the base of the statue, in some form of code, were the words:

_Ride the waves of_
_The Weave, and visit_
_Places of the past,_
_Present, and future._

After being in this damn city for nearly three months, I had finally found something! I was so overwhelmed! For just those moments, those fleeting, fleeting moments before that cursed hole filled with sewage, I was overjoyed! For just those few moments I felt that I had finally accomplished something, that what I needed was within my grasp! Then, before I could search for anything else, it was all gone…

The walls began to cave, and sewage poured into the hole. The others got all of the wounded out in time, but I didn't want to leave! But I had to.... Now my only lead is at the bottom of 30 feet of filth! Just my cursed luck… curse the fates!

However, the murk-filled hole soon became the least of our worries. Once I told everyone of Jelabras’s disappearance, we all made our way to the courthouse. Well, all of us with the exception of Katar. The centaur claimed that he had to go to the Quivering Forest to gather some herbs. I can see that he was angry. Katar tends to get a little violent when he's angry, and I wonder if he didn't want to go because he knew that he'd just be upset. I considered asking him if that was the case, but I decided against it.

In hindsight, I'm very glad that he wasn't with us when we went. We were all treated like dirt at the door of the courthouse by some racist dung-herding guard and his band of miscreants, but Nym learned a startling bit of news. A woman meeting the description of his lost friend, Breeze, had been spotted in the ruins! 

I only learned of this development later myself. In order to diffuse the racial situation at the courthouse door, I had taken Mithras to the Grove. When I had gotten there, I changed out of my muddy clothes. Mithras stalked off to go change somewhere deeper in the Grove than I was, but I know he was watching me while I was changing, looking at me naked. I don’t think he knew that I had seen him peaking, and I was tempted to sneak a peek at him for revenge, but that wouldn’t be lady-like now would it? Tee hee!

When we had redressed, we returned to the courthouse to find Nym and Mattathias were already speaking to Councilman Geth inside. Mithras and I had to fight our way through the throng of angry, weeping people in the main room, where Mithras’s money purse was almost cut by what I could have sworn was a child.

We reported the thief when we had gotten into Geth's office, and he had told us that the thief had actually been a halfling. Apparently, some halflings had established a thieve’s guild or sorts somewhere in the ruins, but he had know idea where. We also learned that Jelabras had escaped from his cell with the aid of a guard that had retained loyalty to him. Where Jelabras had gone to, Geth didn’t know either, but he had been sure the bastard was still in the city. As far as Nym’s friend Breeze went, yes Geth had heard of her. He had heard that she was a slave, and he was certain she was up for sale somewhere in the ruins. He promised that they would do everything that they could to find her before she was sold and smuggled out of the city, but he did warn us that at the moment, it couldn't be much. The dragon had done far too much damage. 

When Geth learned that I had been staying at the now-ruined Paladin's Mount, he offered to pay for my short stay in the Cracked Crown. I took my things there after our visit. Everyone else dined there for a bit, but then we were off to go rescue Nym’s friend. If she was really up for sale, then we knew that we didn't have much time. I really had no idea how we were going to save Breeze, but it didn't really matter right that instant. It only mattered that Nym was desparate to find her. We did know that there was no way we could afford to purchase her. I can imagine that a beautiful green-haired half-sea elven dancer wouldn't be sold for cheap. We went ready for a fight.

It was a good thing we did, because we walked right into the middle of a riot. I’m not sure how to riot started, but it was clearly racially motivated. We were in the poorer area of New Phlan, making our way toward the old Cardona textile house, when we encountered the rioters. It was shocking to see them...destroying their own neighborhoods...We managed to rescue a woman from a band of males intent on foul things, but we all split up just after that. Mattathias ran back to The Waiting to see about getting some more help for the citizens, and Mithras darted down an alleyway in pursuit of two men wielding flame cocktails.

The two men had set fire to an innocent bystander, and I tried to take the injured man to The Waiting for help. Nym just kept on going in the direction of the ruins, further into the insanity, to find his friend. I sent Isis to look after him.

Halfway down the street toward The Waiting, I was met by a tall, gaunt man that I had never seen before. The man, who introduced himself as Razsamar, told me that my charge was dead, but then he proposed something quite interesting. I set the poor man down, and checked him to be certain that he was, indeed, dead, and Razsamar spoke. He explained that he desired to be reunited with Nym’s lost friend, Samar, whom Razsamar claimed was a portion of himself who was split from him when a longevity spell went haywire.
For my aid in this endeavor, he offered me an item, a scroll that would lead me to some “unknown source.” 

This “unknown source,” he claimed, could be utilized only by a sorcerer or sorceress, like me. I have no inkling of how he knew that I was a sorceress. Still, the proposition interested me, and I agreed to the wizard’s terms.

I ran to find Nym, but was met instead by Mattathias who was running back down the way I had just come. We went to find Nym together, but then we both were accosted by a mob of angry-looking villagers with weapons and menacing looks in their eyes. Nym, who had been watching us from a nearby rooftop, managed to warn us before the mob caught us. Then the three of us fled in the direction of The Waiting. None of us knew where Mithras had gone off to, but we didn't have any opportunity to look for him either. 

We made it to the temple just before a huge mob of over a thousand villagers converged on it and the courthouse. I joined the defense of The Waiting’s gate, trying to protect the many wounded humans and non-humans alike who had sought safety behind it.

Among the wounded were several of Lando’s children and grandchildren, as well as dwarves, gnomes, halflings, elves, half-elves, it was appalling! I couldn't believe it... Phlan had seemed like such a tolerant city. I couldn't believe that other humans could be so hateful against other peoples for no reason.

I didn't want to use my magic on the villagers, so I nocked my arrows and shot at them instead. No matter how many arrows I shot into that mob, however; four others would spring up to take the place of the people I had felled. They had cut a tree from the Grove, which they had also set ablaze, and they were using the tree to try and batter the gates down. As I _was _ finally preparing to send my paltry missiles of magic into the mob, Razsamar next to me on the battlements and said that it was time to leave.

I didn’t want to just leave like that, with all of those innocent people counting on me and the guards for protection, but I knew that Razsamar would not wait. I didn't know what this "Unknown Source" was that he had spoken about, but aside from the hole, I was getting nowhere in Phlan. I was willing to take the chance that it was something that would prove useful to me. Besides, I knew that Phlan would have to sort this all out. I was merely a visitor afterall. Razsamar cast a _teleportation _ spell and we were both removed from the gate. We appeared in an alleyway next to Mithras, Nym, Mattathias, and a dwarf that I had never seen before. The Dwarf was about as stout as Dwarves come, and about as armed as Dwarves come, but he didn't look too happy. I'm pretty sure it had something to do with half of his beard being missing. It looked like it had been burned off. Recently. Like earlier today recently. Razsamar introduced him as Beirdan Hammerthrower.

After the introductions were made, Razsamar expressed a desire to leave Phlan immediately, but I just couldn’t leave my things behind. It seems silly to be so preoccupied with material things while the world is burning around you, but I just couldn’t leave them. My parents gave me a lot of those things…and the mizmar…my grandmother told me to keep it…it's all that I have left of my family. I was determined not to leave Phlan without them.

I made a big enough show about not wanting to leave without my belongings that finally Mattathias agreed to go with me to the Cracked Crown. We never made it that far. As we passed by Mielikki's grove, we saw the horrifying sight of Lando the Elven bowyer hanging upside-down unconscious from a tree. He was covered with blood from where he had been savagely beaten, but even then I could see that half of his left ear had been cut off. Mattathias and I removed him from the tree, and we carried him back to the alleyway with the others. I poured a few more of my potions down his throat, and Mattathias used his healing spells to revive him. The elf climbed to his feet, leaning against a wall for support, and asked for a weapon. I gave him the bow I had been using to defend the walls of The Waiting. It was the bow belonging to one of his sons. Its owner had been too wounded to use it. Lando clearly recognized it, and I quickly informed him that his family was at the temple. He nodded wearily and began to stumbled off in that direction. We could all hear the shouting and the sounds of the tree crashing into The Waiting's gate from where we were, but Lando didn't seem to care. 

Razsamar repeated, urgently, his desire to leave the city at that moment. A less than bright group of rioters made the mistake of rounding the corner at that moment. When they saw the Elves and Dwarf, they shouted and charged at them. Razsamar let loose a volley of _magic missiles_, killing three of them. We had been spotted. I knew there could no return trip to the Cracked Crown now. We had to leave. 

A second group of rioters, only slightly more intelligent than the first, rounded the corner behind us. There were five of them, and they came right at us. I was casting the spell before I could stop myself. It was only a single _magic missile _, but even as the bolt of magic left my fingers, I knew that the spell would most likely kill the man I was aiming for... the one that I had guessed was their leader. Sure enough, the missile caught him in the chest and threw him backwards against a wall. He didn't move. The other four came to their senses and ran off to get reinforcements. I couldn't believe what I had just done..casting the spell had been almost like a reflex action. I had deliberately killed someone with my magic...  Even though I had known that it would come to that someday, it was no less horrifying what I had done. 

I had killed that man....just like I had killed her...

I felt so horrible... I hadn’t even attempted to find another way…I had just cast the spell, and I had killed him. I don't even know who he was..or what he did...who did he have waiting for him somewhere....? 

The sickness in my heart only increased when it became clear that we would have to leave Lando behind. He was still so weak, and wounded…alone in a city filled with those bastard rioters, determined to save his family. I didn’t want to leave him, part of me wanted to stay and help, somehow! But I knew that I couldn’t…. The other party of me didn't want to stay. The other part was so disgusted and heartsick that it wanted to leave all of this behind and never return. Lando hobbled off in the direction of The Waiting, and we left like cowards. I left Phlan and all of those innocent people just so I could get some damn scroll....some great adventurer I am.....I feel like such..such.....garbage!

It was of no comfort at all when Razsamar promised me that he would have my things brought to me. By then we had all gone through his gate and ended up outside the city’s walls. Compared to Lando’s anguish, my belongings just didn’t matter anymore.

We were forced to swim a little bit around one of the corners of the city wall, and after trudging around in our icy wet clothes, we finally found our way to the Stojanow main gate. When we got there we discovered the dead body of a small elven girl. She was laying there on the other side of the bridge, facedown in the mud with an arrow in her back. It made me so sick! I hated Phlan so damn much! I hated all of those stupid hateful people! She was just a toddler, trying to run away..and some bastard shot her down. It made me so sick that I actually wanted to go back into Phlan and just start killing all of them... Her small body...she reminded me so much of my little nephew Ryes. Mithras silently picked up her little body and carried her with us, not willing to leave it at the mercy of those who had murdered her.

We stopped at the Valhingen Cemetery and the others attempted to gather wood for a funeral pyre, but I couldn’t. I was so numb and so tired. I just stood there, holding Isis tightly. I was in so much shock...  Even in Valhingen we could hear the sounds of the riot continuing, and we could see and smell the black smoke of burning homes... I don't understand why someone could do something so horrible to someone else..or why a whole city would willingly destroy itself... I know that father would claim that it was because the Phlanians are lesser people than we are...that most other people, in fact, are little more than panicky herd animals..no matter how much they try to delude themselves into thinking otherwise. I really _hate_ father sometimes...damn him...damn Phlan!

I didn't really know we were going to leave until Mattathias shook me...I was in so much shock...He explained that the wood from the cemetery was tainted with evil..so we moved on, still carrying that poor girl’s body with us. As we shuffled quietly past, Nym swore that he saw a dark figure among the graves watching us. I didn't look in the direction that he was pointing...I didn't want to see it.

We walked in silence for hours, Mattathias helping Razsamar who was obviously extremely exhausted from his earlier spell-casting. Razsamar looked like the walking dead...

When it began to get dark, we stopped in a small wooded clearing just a little ways from the road. The area was clearly used by rangers, as evidenced by a hidden cache of food Nym found in a tree stump. We built a small fire and ate what we could. Everything tasted so bland...it caught in my throat.

Before Mithras had even allowed himself to eat, however, he had erected a funeral pyre for the slain elfling and had set it, and the girl’s body, ablaze. We all watched the flames roar to life, consuming everything that it touched. We lost sight of the child's body after a few minutes, and nobody said anything as they freed her soul to go wherever it is that Elves go when they die. Hopefully she found a far finer world than the one she left…

*Greengrass, 1376 D.R.*
I had volunteered for second watch last night. I knew that it was the worst shift, but I took it anyway. Anything else would have been selfish of me. While I was on watch, Razsamar’s dwarven companion found us, carrying all of my items with him. That's how out of touch I was yesterday...I hadn't even noticed that Beirdan wasn't with us when we left Phlan. He was carrying all of my belongings, save Cotton and the bottle of Berduskan Dark Ale that Mithras had insisted on charging to me at the Cracked Crown.

He told me not to bother waking Mattathias for his watch, and about an hour before sunrise he set about frying up some eggs and bacon for everyone. It smelled wonderful, and it tasted a lot better than the ranger rations, but it still caught in my throat. My heart still hung like an anchor in my chest. The smell woke the others. After we had all eaten, we began our journey anew.

Razsamar looked even worse when he woke than he had when he had gone to sleep. He could walk, but barely, and not for more than a few steps without support from someone else. Beirdan told us that he was dying, and that he would most definetely die if he wasn’t reunited with Samar soon. We didn’t wait around too long in any one place, but with Razsamar's condition, the going was slow. We knew that we were headed for an abandoned Shrine to the goddess Tymora about a half-day's walk from Phlan, and after another several hours of walking, we found it.

At first we didn't believe that we were looking at the shrine..or at least the building that housed the shrine. It looked utterly decrepit. It was a rundown cottage more than anything, built into the side of a hill. The roof was straw thatch, reinforced with..something. It might have been wood, I couldn't tell. The door was practically rotting away as we stood there. After we had determined that th whole cottage wouldn't fall in on us, we went inside. The room that we found ourselves in looked only marginally better than the outside, and we were immediately presented with a quandary.

The room was bare, save for a crumbling stone well in the center, a dust-covered lute long broken, and, of course, the shrine. The shrine looked more like a bizarre sculpture than a shrine. It was sculpted from stone into the shape of a woman's cupped hand, palm upward as if to receive something. Near to the hand stood a shelf holding a few jars. At the base of the hand was an inscription in old Netherese that read:

_Look to the shrine for_
_What you seek,_
_Choose the well and take_
_A chance on what you keep._

After much arguing over which avenue we should go with: explore the shrine or the go down the well, it was Mattathias that inadvertently showed us the way. After placing a few of the dust covered jars into the woman's hand, Mattathias placed a single copper coin in the palm. To our amazement, the hand moved. It lowered slowly, producing a gravelly stone-grinding sound from the wall behind it, and the coin vanished. To our further amazement, Mattathias discovered three new coins in his pocket.

Actually, they _would_ have been coins, were they stamped and of any discernible material. They were shiny and of a silver color, but they weren't any silver that I had ever seen. Unable to figure out what they were at that moment, he dropped them into his money pouch with the rest of his money. Apparently, we had learned how to activate the shrine.

Having heard of these shrines before, I was hesitant. Mithras, having observed Mattathias's boon, was not. Not heeding my warnings, he went next, dropping a whole gold coin into the woman's palm. The hand dropped further, producing the same sound as before, but nothing happened to him. Nothing at all. He didn’t grow wings, change colors, nothing. Nym went after the disappointed Mithras, dropping a silver into Tymora’s palm. A pair of small impish horn sprouted from the boy's forehead. When Mithras saw the horns sprout out, he ran from the cottage screaming.

Undaunted, the dwarf went next. He dropped a silver coin into that cold palm and instantly his head began to glow brighter than any light spell, lantern, or torch. Every inch of hair and skin above his shoulders, even his eyes and mouth, glowed like a beacon. He was painful to look at! I named him Beirdan Brighthead.

That left myself and Razsamar. The wizard opted to go fifth. As soon as that coin hit the palm, Razsamar shrunk over a foot in height. He didn’t seem happy, but clearly Razsamar had bigger (pardon the pun) things to worry about.

I went last, placing one of my silvers into Tymora’s grasping hand and immediately I could feel its effects! It felt like a burning almost, but a good burning. I felt….lucky….I knew that it had to be good! Whatever it was...

When each of us had partaken of Tymora’s mighty joke, the hand lowered down all the way to touch the stone floor, and the wall behind it opened. Behind the cupped hand was revealed an extremely low-ceilinged passageway carved out of sheer stone. The ceiling was so low that the dwarf had to crawl like the rest of us. Nym had succeeded in coaxing Mithras back into the cottage, but the tall Elf refused to enter the crawlspace. He must have a fear of tight spaces. I’ve heard of that malady. Terrible thing for an adventurer.

Eventually he did go in, after a couple of long draughts from Beirdan’s handkeg of Dwarven spirits. When we had all entered, the stone door shut fast behind us, sending him into a frenzy. Mithras crawled over everyone behind him trying to get out, even knocking Razsamar against a wall, but he still didn’t make it. I hear that he was screaming and clawing at the stone before he finally just collapsed. Mattathias had to carry him the rest of the way through the crawlspace. Luckily it wasn’t too long.

We emerged from the passage into a huge room. The crawlspace had opened up at the top of a staircase that circled an enormous crevasse. The stairs were rather narrow, and I peered over the edge to see down, I saw only darkness. Nym I think dropped a stone off the steps. None of us heard it hit bottom. Having no other way to go, we trudged down that staircase, most of us hugging the wall as closely as we could. Mithras, who had recovered his wits somewhat from the crawlspace, actually walked as closely to the edge as he could! He was practically dancing along the edge of the steps! He did that for a while...I don't know for how long. I don’t know how long it took to get to the bottom of that staircase either, but it felt like we walked for hours. During the descent I tried not to think about the events yesterday, but it was hard. There had been some light conversation on the trek to the shrine, but we had mostly kept away from topics relating to Phlan. It's still too raw to really discuss it. Razsamar claims that there's an underground tunnel that leads from this shrine to Phlan. I wonder if we'll find that tunnel, or what we'll find on the other side if we do. 

A door had awaited us at the bottom of the staircase, a thick locked sturdy wooden door braced by iron. We had attempted to open it, only to find it locked against us. Nym, with a little help from one of my picks, managed to get the door open. None of us knew what to expect, but what greeted us beyond the door was a bare stone hallway that led off to our left and right. At the far left end of the hall, there was a wall. To our right was a set of double-doors. There were two doors along the wall, on just next to the door we had just entered, and one across. 

Nym, ever the inquisitive one, decided that we should try to double-doors first. Against our better judgement, he crept into that room, and alerted the golem that had been guarding it. Nym shot out of that room like he had been fired from a bow! He ran past us as fast as his skinny legs could carry him. When we heard that golem's footsteps, Mattathias went to investigate. The cleric simply poked his head into that room, closed the double-doors, locked the double-doors, and then told us to run! 

We all bolted down that hallway, following Nym, just as the golem impacted the doors. Even Razsamar started moving a little faster when we heard that sickening crunch behind us. The doors gave way a moment later, and the immense stone construct stepped out into the hallway.We were all at the far end of the hall by that time, and we had discovered that it wasn't a dead-end, but veered into a small square room with another door at the end. Resting near the opposite wall of the room were two rotting ettins and their gear. In the second I took to actually look at the ettins, it became clear that they didn't bear any bludgeoning wounds, but I just didn't have time to study them further. I tried to open the door in front of us, but was locked fast, so I set to picking that lock. I realized even as I was pulling out my picks that if the others saw them, their opinion of me might change, but this was a matter of life or death. I decided that if they asked me about them later, I could explain it away. Luckily, no one has asked yet. The instant I heard that lock click, I flung open that door...and found a carrion crawler waiting on the other side.

Wonderful, we were stuck between a stone golem and a carrion crawler and this was only the first corridor of the bloody dungeon! I slammed the door in the carrion crawler’s face and looked for something to help fight the golem, which was marching steadily toward us. 

Having had golems in my house with my parents, I knew that they were immune to the Art. Having had a few stone golems in particular, I knew that they were nearly impervious to blades. I tried to find myself a bludgeon. I searched the ettins gear as quickly as I could, and found three large stones. I was never a very good rock-thrower, but they were better than nothing. 

To make a long story short, we all fought for our lives!, Mithras and Beirdan would have certainly lost theirs were it not for the clerical administrations of Mattathias. Mattathias nearly died himself when that golem socked him, knocking him off his feet! In my desparation, I hurled one of the three large stones from the ettin packs at it. I guess I'm a better stone-thrower than I thought, because I managed to hit just below its left eye...if it had had a left eye. To my utter amazement, a huge chunk of its stony face just fell apart the minute that rock impacted it. There was no way that should have happened to a golem. 

Razsamar, noting the surprising amount of damage done to the golem by my rock, sent three of his _magic missiles_ its way. They affected it!! It wasn't an actual golem! That, or it was a very shoddily constructed one...  The thing didn't last long after we found that out, but it was still a hard won fight in the end. All of the warriors, Mattathias, Mithras, and Beirdan, had nearly been killed and Razsamar was even nearer to death than he was before.

While Beirdan helped Razsamar settle down for a rest, Nym and I picked through the few bags we had found with the ettins. Aside from the stones, there was only a few moldy food items and some ratty leather gear and rusted weaponry. Disappointed, we joined the others to rest. During our respite, I had inspected the "golem". In its chest I found a polished black stone in the shape of an oval. I pocketed it.

When we were ready to continue again, we killed the carrion crawler that was still waiting behind that door. I harvested some select portions of its anatomy for use as spell components, and then we moved on. Not that I liked harvesting carrion crawler pieces, but I could practically hear my parents harping on me to get the maximum use out of the creature. Do these things ever stink though... We went back through the double-doors that had contained the "golem." The square room possessed four doors on each of the opposite walls. We discovered, through entering it, that the door to the left led to a trapped corridor. We didn't trigger the trap, but the gore marks left below a conspicious set of scrape marks on the wall made it perfectly clear that that's what it was. We even found the trigger, we think. We didn't bother entering the room that was protected by the trap. We were here to find Samar, and according to Razsamar he wasn't in there. We all knew where the double-doors in the "golem" room led to, so that left the doors facing north and south.

We chose the north door first, and were met by a group of armed and bloodthirsty hobgoblins. When the hobgoblins tried to rush into the room and attack us, they hit the bearded brick wall of Beirdan Hammerthrower. I've never seen a Dwarf so happy to kill things! He just went at, smashing their heads and arms and legs with his massive hammer! He didn't even care at first how badly they were wounding him in return. I'm pretty sure that Beirdan actually tried to stop everyone else from getting in any hob kills. After a while, though, he was finally forced to stop. He had killed many of them, but had sustained too much injury. Mattathias healed him with Ilmater's blessing, and Mithras stepped up to battle the remaining hobgoblins. When both Beirdan and Mithras were occupied with the hobgoblins, we were set upon from behind by a small contingent of kobolds. There were 5 or 6 of them, and they were standing in the south doorway. One was casting spells, though its _charm_ spell had no affect on me. Nym, Mattathias, and myself did battle with this new threat while Mithras and Beirdan continued to fight the hobs. During the combat, it struck me that something wasn't quite right about that casting kobold. It didn't move like the others kobolds, and they all seemed more afraid of it than they were of us, though were we the ones killing them. When Mattathias kicked it, we learned why. The monk-cleric's foot slamming it in the face seemed to shatter whatever concentration it needed to sustain the kobold _illusion_ it was wearing. The small lizard semblance that it had worn simply vanished, replaced by a very real larger lizard semblance. It was a Yuan-ti! The instant that its illusion dropped, the Yuan-ti ducked back into the corridor, slamming that door against us. By that time, all of the hobgoblins had been slain. We set an alarm on that southern door, in case the kobolds and their friend decided to come back through behind us, and then we followed the corridor the hobgoblins had come through and found their lair. This was a larger room, and the only occupants that we could see were a single hobgoblin mother and the whimpering hobgoblin child that she was protecting. 

She came at us with a large cleaver, the kind you'd see in any butcher's shop in Faerun. Well, actually, she came at _me_, but Mithras intercepted, meeting her head on. With just a few flicks of that glass rapier of his, he had the cleaver out of her hand. Unarmed, it wasn't too hard to wrestle her to the ground and tie her up. We spared both the mother and her child, much to Beirdan's chagrin, but did help ourselves to the room’s curious amount of treasure. it was obvious that none of it was of goblinoid origin. There were adventuring packs, leather sacks, and about three trunks. Inside one of the trunks was a bag of red coins...the coins... I wonder if I can still go back and get them...

We were forced to leave the coins because they made the others crazy. When I had picked one up to look at it, Mattathias attacked me for no reason and Mithras cut me! He cut me right on the chin with that little glass toothpick he calls a sword! When I tried to fight back, Mattathias knocked me out cold. I woke up in the hallway that we had rested at before. Apparently, we were all resting again. That bastard Mithras! He even kicked Isis! 

If those lousy bastards want those coins so damned badly, they’ll have to fight me for them! They have some kind of hold over Mithras and Mattathias. I can’t let them get their hands on them, which means I may have to carry them myself. I played my harp to keep their minds off the coins. I can get them later, when no one is looking.

We took that final door, the south door, next. We knew that somewhere beyond that door, maybe close, lurked at least one Yuan-ti and its kobold minions, but Razsamar insisted that that was the way Samar had gone, so that’s the way we went. The door opened into a long corridor that stretched to our left and right, just like the other corridor. The kobolds had obviously been waiting for us. They attacked immediately, pelting us with arrows from the shadows to our right. Beirdan, Mithras, and Mattathias answered back by charging down that way after the feisty little yapping bastards. This, of course, left Nym and myself to protect Razsamar.

When the three of _us_ heard more scurrying from the shadows nearest to us, we nocked our arrows and prepared to shoot anything that came into view. Razsamar cast another spell, something I didn't recognize, causing a large glowing hand to just appear in the air before us. This 10-foot hand floated there, hovering around Razsamar like a bizarre hand-shaped magic shield. I figured that it had to be one of that wizard Bigby's spells.... I never bothered to learn any of those hand spells myself. They always struck me as being really silly. Though the three of us waited, nocked and ready to shoot anything that ventured out of the darkness, nothing did. When Mithras emerged from the right, telling us to go join Beirdan and Mattathias, we finally just left. I took up the rear, still aiming into the same shadows as before. 

As I was walking past that door that we had come through earlier, it struck me that that would be a wonderful time to go and grab those red coins. It occurs to me now, it didn't then, that those coins had a rather unhealthy hold over _me_. It had nothing to do with Mithras and Mattathias at all, except that they were trying to protect me. At the time, though, the only thing I was thinking was that I had to get them. 

While the others went to gather in that room, I slipped off to go collect the red coins. Even though I could hear Razsamar casting an evocation spell, another spell that I didn't recognize, I couldn't stop myself from leaving. Even when Isis was struck in the flank by an arrow that had been shot from the shadows, I wouldn't stop. When I noticed that Mithras was following me, probably waiting to steal them from me, I pretended not to notice him. 

He looked particularly haggard and I told myself that I could defeat him when the time came. I’m not certain what finally _did_ make me stop…but, somehow, I did. I had made it to the door leading to the hobgoblin lair, and had had my hand on the door-handle. Perhaps it was the realization that behind the door that I was about the open there was an angry hobgoblin woman waiting to butcher a hapless human sorceress, as she had tried to butcher me earlier. Perhaps it was the pained whining of Isis, who limped along behind me, the arrow still stuck in her body.

I don’t really know what it was but I stopped and I turned to face Mithras. He truly did look terrible.. I fed him the last of my curing potions, and he healed a bit, but it made me wonder why Mattathias hadn't healed him. Why did Mithras have an arrow sticking out of his chest? Fearing the worst, I followed him back to the room where the others were gathered. 

On the floor of this chamber lay Mattathias, gravely injured, and horribly burned. Beirdan lay beside him, closer to death than he had ever been up to that point I’m sure. A wheezing Razsamar lay against a wall, struggling to catch his breath. Every breath that he did take was so raspy that I thought it would be his last. Nym was frantic, not knowing whether to help Mattathias, Beirdan, or Razsamar. A body was chained down on a sort of sacrificial altar that clearly dominated the chamber, and two dead yuan-ti corpses lay where they had fallen. A pile of dead kobolds lay scattered outside the room. There was blood everywhere....It hit me then how frightful that combat must have been…I was horrified! I could have killed the entire party just by not being there to help them...

Razsamar did manage to catch his breath, thanks the Gods, but I knew there could be no moving him for another few hours. None of us could stabilize Mattathias. he had been badly wounded helping Beirdan stave off the pair of Yuan-ti, and had bore the brunt of most of the creatures' acidic blood and secretions. Mattathias was dying, and I was all out of healing potions. I had given Mithras the last one. It had been Razsamar who had saved his life. The wizard had used more of his precious strength to pull a potion of Greater Healing from his robes. He handed it to Nym, who promptly fed it to the monk-cleric. Beirdan we did stabilize, or maybe he stabilized himself. I'm not sure. Dwarves are tough though. Especially when they have a job to do... We used another of Razsamar's potions on him, and Mattathias used his last healing spell to bring him back to at least partial health. He didn't have enough spells left to finish. 

When we had the door barricaded against any other threat that may have wanted to make itself known, mostly it was more kobolds, and had removed the arrows from Isis and Mithras, Mattathias unchained the body on the altar. The sacrifice had been a young human woman. She didn't look like a native to the Moonsea region. Her skin was darker, and her clothes were lighter than what most people up here wear. He told us that she had been a monk, like him. Then he saw what she had held in her hand. It was a crystal of some sort, and it glowed with magic. I didn't get a good look at it. He placed it in his pocket just before he removed the woman from the surface that she had been murdered on and set her down gently on the floor. While her perform funereal rites for her, the rest of us took to searching the rest of the room, paying close attention to the rest of the altar in particular. Aside from bodies, there wasn't much else in here.

The structure was obviously set up in worship of some horrible god I’ve never heard of. It consisted of an immense stone sculpture crafted in the likeness of a hideously bloated goblin-like entity which loomed over the crudely fashioned stone sacrificial slab. I took note of the fact that there was no blood on the altar, even as the dead monk’s body was still warm enough for it to flow. 

Every other surface in that room was splattered with blood, but the surface of that altar was spotless. I decided to test a theory. I pricked my finger with the tip of my dagger. Every drop of my blood that fell upon the altar were absorbed into the stone, almost like a sponge...but the surface was still hard. Yet I could plainly hear water flowing from somewhere within the structure. It was right after that that someone noticed the stream of water flowing from out of the Yuan-ti god’s bottom. By bottom I mean his posterior..his seat. 

How utterly disgusting that they would erect such a foul altar to begin with! Having water flowing from its bowels is even worse!

I forget who it was that discovered that the water had curative abilities, but soon we were all partaking of it. Actually, I think it may have been Beirdan, now that I think about it. When the Dwarf saw the pool of water, he plunged his head down into it and began to drink. He wasn't bothered at all by the fact that it was streaming from the...hole....of a bloated goblin creature. When he had drunk his fill, he threw back his head, and all of his wounds were gone! The half of his beard that had been burned off didn't return, he checked that right away, but he was no longer injured! Everyone else drank from the pool after that, and their wounds vanished as well. Even Razsamar, who hadn't been wounded at all during the fight, seemed to get better. He hasn't coughed once since he drank that water, and he's walking a little better too. 

When they were all done, I even drank a little. I wasn't wounded either, but when I felt that cool water slide down my throat and into my chest I lost all desire to go back and retrieve those red coins! In fact, I couldn’t remember why I had been so captivated by them in the first place! The only explanation that I can offer is that they were enchanted with some sort of spell that compels anyone who touches them to take them. It's better that I leave them down here. It’s only a matter of time before someone else finds them and returns them to the surface, but it won’t be me that does.

We took a rest in that foul chamber. Mithras and Beirdan guarded the door from stray kobolds while the rest of us did what we could to gain sleep. I played a bit more on a harp that I had found within a pack in the hobgoblin lair. It really is a very nice instrument, and though it surely looks as plain as my travelling harp, I’m certain that it must be enchanted. Unlike my travelling harp, the notes seem to have an affect on everyone. They seem to sleep better when I'm playing. It bears some looking into when we get out of here. 

Some hours later, when we were as rested as we could be in a dank dungeon, we  gathered up our gear and loot and began back down the corridor. Mindful of the tittering that Nym, Razsamar, and I had heard earlier, we proceeded cautiously, Nym and I leading the way.

The corridor opened into a larger room, and we encountered two more hobgoblins harassing a group of about three kobolds. After a short and easy combat, we dispatched the hobs and found that the three kobolds were quite willing to do our bidding now that the hobgoblins and Yuan-ti were no longer a threat to them. We had them lead us to their home, which they claimed was down a passage to our left. Razsamar had said that Samar was somewhere in that direction. 

Along the way to the kobold lair, we passed through another stone hall, discovered something curious. In this hall stood 12 very animated statues. They weren't golems, just very well-preserved statues that moved. They moved and made gestures to eachother. They even opened up their mouths and spoke, though no words could be heard. Their oral motions were so precise and authentic, that if I had been able to read lips, I'm sure I would have known what they were saying. It was almost as if they were alive, but they were obviously not sentient or guardians of any sort. Interesting.

One thing that worried me was that a number of them had very cruel names. Each pedestal had a plaque in which the name of each person depicted in these amazing statues could be read. I've never heard of any of those people before, and I only managed to write down 8 of the names before the others started giving me the evil-eye.

These are the 8 names that I could write down:
_Grigor the Marvelous_
_Miri the Terrible_
_Blaera Jelabras_
_Bladebite the Sharp_
_Ungred the Terrible_
_Tibidoch the Happy_
_Amafrey Brightwood_
and _Werhtek the Cruel_

I found the statue bearing the name Blaera Jelabras particularly interesting. It was a woman, and a wizardress by the looks of her. I wonder if there is any relation to Aelthas Jelabras? One might be tempted to think that it's just one amazing coincidence. I remember something father said, however: "The only people who believe in coincidence are the dead, and those soon to join them" Those people, whoever they were, must have built this dungeon, or at least controlled it at some point. I may have to do some researching somewhere when we get out of here. 

At any rate, after I was dragged away from the statues, the kobolds lead us to their portion of the dungeon, which you could only get to if you passed through a pair of tightly locked and closely guarded doors. Our kobold emissaries talked the guards into letting us through one of the doors, the one that faced in the direction that Razsamar said Samar had gone. The door opened up into a narrow corridor that took us to a foreboding hole in the wall. I could see nothing on the other side of the hole but darkness.

Nym and I, of course, went first.  The air was incredibly humid and stuffy, and our torches were beginning to grow dim, but from what I _could _ see, we had found ourselves in some sort of natural cavern. There was an odd smell to the place, old, musty, and bitter. It was hard to describe precisely what it smelled like, but it wasn't appealing. The others followed us in slowly. When we were all here, except for the kobolds who refused to even go near the hole, we started forward into the darkness. 

We walked for what felt like a mile before we discovered a small chamber that appeared to have been formed naturally in the rock. Though our torchlight couldn't illuminate the entire room, we could see, from the entrance, things that weren't natural. Skeletal remains of humanoids could be seen laying on the surface of the cavern, along with whatever they had been wearing. Mattathias and Nym went in to investigate while Mithras and Beirdan kept an eye on the surrounding walls. Razsamar and I stayed back at the entrance. The light was just enough that I could see Mattathias nudging one of the skeletons with his shoe while Nym dashed off into the darkness further off in the chamber, and out of my sight. Satisfied, I imagine, that the skeletons would stay dead, Mattathias went over to find Nym. The boy was standing at the far end of the cavern, staring at a battered stone throne. Upon the throne sat another skeleton. From what I could see of this other skeleton, it was even older than the two laying on the ground. The bones looked ready to crumble into dust. It looked like the cobwebs were the only thing still holding the skeleton together. Everything that had been..entombed...with it had long ago disintegrated. 

The chamber was obviously someone’s crypt, their final resting place. Even though the monk and elfling were doing it, it just felt, dirty... wrong. I couldn’t bring myself to search that room. I suppose I can blame father for that one. 

Well, despite the effort, Mattathias, Nym, and Mithras didn’t seem to find anything of any value. The displacer beast that was using the chamber as a lair, however, decided that he’d found a good meal. It leapt at Mattathias from a shadowy ledge on the wall, nearly taking the cleric down with a single mighty swipe of its ebony claws.

Mattathias was hurt, and he stumbled back a little, taken by surprise by the sudden onslaught. The others rushed to his rescue, Mithras with that lovely glass sword of his, Nym with his throwing daggers, and Beirdan with his mighty hammer. Many of their attacks missed as the beast shifted repeatedly back and forth from its other plane to this one. Some attacks did manage to connect with the beast’s substantial body, and it howled in rage and pain. Still it pressed on, intent on its dinner.

I assailed the displacer beast with my own magical volley, impacting it with _magic missile _ after _magic missile._ Between my magical assault and the attacks from everyone else, we finally did chase it off. No one had died, and only Mattathias had been injured. Mattathias healed his wounds, and we continued, leaving the chamber and its occupant behind. 

We walked for hours in that stifling darkness. I couldn't tell half the time whether we were walking on flat ground, whether we were ascending, or whether we were descending. I only knew that we were getting nearer and nearer to Samar, and, mercifully, we didn't encounter anything else lurking in the dark after that displacer beast. Eventually, I did become aware of the fact that we were going down, deeper into the earth. I figured that we had to be entering the Underdark soon, if we hadn't already. 

The slope went down for what felt like another mile, then suddenly, to our right, another passageway opened up, leading back out of the bowels of the earth.  The slope that we had been descending continued to lead down. From where we stood, at the intersection of the those two passageways, we could hear sounds echoing up from down the slope. I, personally, was hoping that Razsamar would indicate the right passageway, and we could climb up and leave. Unfortunately, he motioned us to walk further down the trail that we had been following. I was disappointed, and I could tell that Mithras was getting more and more uncomfortable the further and further down we were getting, but we walked on anyway. Razsamar assured us that we were very close...that Samar was at the bottom of this hill, but he urged us to hurry....he could feel Samar's life slipping away, and his with it. We did hurry, and finally, the passage opened into an immense cavern. We could hear the sounds of gruff voices and the clink of metal against stone.

We hid behind a large boulder that overlooked an expansive pit, and observed a group of Deep Dwarves and their slaves mining the stone. Razsamar stated that Samar was somewhere down there, among the Duergar and slaves, so that meant that someone had to go down there. I was certain that that wouldn't include the ailing Razsamar, and most certainly not Beirdan. I wouldn't trust Nym to go down either. In the event that a fight broke out, i knew that there was a very good chance that it could prove fatal for whoever of our group went. In the end, I volunteered, thinking that, of all of us, I had the best chance of negotiating with the Duergar. Mithras and Mattathias accompanied me, not willing to allow me to go myself.

None of us spoke Duergar, or even Dwarven, but I knew that there was a chance that one or more of them knew Drow. I only hoped that mine was good enough that they wouldn't get suspicious. I know the language. Where I'm from they walk the streets just like Humans, Elves, Devils, Illithids, Githyanki...but the opportunities that I had had to use the language could be counted on one hand. The trick was to know the language better than they did. Thankfully, I did. Damn I'm good! I not only managed to negotiate the purchase of half-dead Samar. Hells, they threw him in for free! But, we left there with 2 Halflings and 3 more Humans as well! We bought every surface slave that they had. Mattathias carried Samar back up the slope, and the slaves didn’t exactly refuse to go with us as we led them back up the slope toward the others. 

Once everyone was together at the top of the slope, we doubled-back up to the intersection, and began to climb the slope that ascended to the right. We've been climbing for hours....My feet are so sore. I'm writing in this journal now because we're taking a break from walking. Razsamar gave me something earlier. It's a small glass sphere. He plans to reunite with Samar soon, within the next hour or so. He told me that when he grabs ahold of Samar, that I'm to shatter the orb against the ground. He said that there was someone trapped inside, and that he needed innocent blood to cast the spell. I asked if he expected me to kill this person, but he assured me that the spell required but a drop. I don't feel comfortable doing this, but it's only a drop of blood..and it's to save someone's life...so it's for a good cause. Besides, I already agreed to do this, and we've come all this way. There can't be any backing down now. It looks like we're ready to start moving again. I really hope we reach the surface soon.... I hate being underground. 


*Below is a low res map of Phlan, edited by Arravis*


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## Nydia (Apr 19, 2004)

*3rd of Mirtul, 1376 D.R.*
I'm still a little shaky....following the spell yesterday... About an hour after we resumed our climb yesterday, Mithras caught a whiff of fresh air from the surface and just bolted up that slope, leaving the rest of us behind. As everyone else got near enough to the surface to smell it_, and _ see the sunlight filtering down the passageway, Nym and the rescued slaves were so overcome with joy that they followed. That left Mattathias, Beirdan, Razsamar, Samar, and myself alone. That's when Razsamar shouted for me to shatter the globe, and then lunged at Samar, wrapping his arms tightly around his dying counterpart's shoulders.

I did as I was commanded, hurling that little glass sphere down at the rocky ground as hard as I could. Sure enough, when it impacted the ground, it shattered into a myriad of sparkling lights. There, amidst all of these brilliant lights was a Human girl no older than Nym. She looked terrified, but I acted anyway. I had no time, at that moment, to ponder the ethics of what I was doing when I pricked that girl's finger. I only knew that this was the only way to finish this. In hind-sight I suppose I could have pricked my own finger...but I'm just not sure that I'm innocent enough. How does one define innocence exactly? 

Once that drop of blood fell from her hand, I pulled out the scroll that Razsamar had given me, and I began to recite the spell that would reunite the two struggling men before me. The two dying men wrestled on the rocky dirt as I spoke aloud the words. Mattathias moved to intervene, to separate the two, but he was intercepted by Beirdan. The Dwarf was brandishing his hammer menacingly, but warning the cleric to not interfere.  

As I continued, invoking the words of magic that would bring this spell to life, I could hear Samar's anguished screams, and Razsamar shouting at him in their native tongue. I was reminded so much of that evening...the night I cast that spell that brought me here and to Phlan. The night that made all of this necessary. 

I wondered for a moment if, like that other spell, this one too was beyond my experience. How easily it would be for me to loose control, especially considering the force and power that kept building and building as the casting reached its advanced stages. From the corner of my eye, I could see that the two men were becoming one, but I could feel myself being tested to the best of my abilities. I continued to cast, even as it grew harder and harder to contain the power that was surging through my body. 

Finally, the darkness had claimed me...just like before.

I don't know who had carried me out of the passage, but I regained consciousness to found myself, and everyone else, amidst the mouldy ruins in the Southwest of Phlan. Looking around, after I had picked myself up off of the dirty ground, I was startled to find tattered bits of parchments, shredded and faded tapestries, and more than a little evidence of long faded magics. I could only imagine that we were in the old Scholar’s Square. As soon as I was rested enough to walk, we led our freed slaves to The Waiting, and left them in the temple's care.

Concerned for Lando, the Elven bowyer we had been forced to leave behind in Phlan, we journeyed to his shop and found it closed, his kin working tirelessly to rebuild the structure, and their lives. Of Lando, none of them knew. No one had seen him since the horrific riots on the 30th. A few of their number had gone west, seeking an audience with Lando’s elven kin. They promised that they would tell us if they learned anything new.

I was very disappointed that he wasn't there. At least we would have known that he was okay, that he had survived the madness. But, the fact that no body had been found was also a good sign. He was alive...somewhere. Tired, filthy, and in need of a long hot soak, I headed to the Cracked Crown from Lando's Bows. The others came with me. With the Grove nearly destroyed, Mithras, Mattathias, Nym, and Katar would need a new place to stay. With all of the gold and items we had removed from that hobgoblin lair, they could now afford a room at the Cracked Crown. 

As we had made our way through the oddly quiet streets of the city, we couldn’t help but notice mounted warriors that we had never before see. These men were organized. Every one of them that we saw wore a very distinct crest upon their tunics. It was of a gold coin, pierced through by a short sword. They were obviously mercenaries, but I couldn’t say from where. We saw them chiefly in the company of Phlan's regular city guard, but we also observed patrols consisting entirely of these mercenaries. Upon asking a local woman who they were, she informed us that the mayor had brought them back with her from Sembia. They were called "The Helms." 

It wasn't too long before we reached the inn, especially considering there was practically no one milling about in the streets. Every person that we saw outside of a building seemed to have a task to perform or a place to go. They did both quietly and with great haste. When we had finally arrived at the Cracked Crown, I immediately went to look for Cotton. I had left him in the stables that fateful day. Cotton was gone. When I enquired about the whereabouts of the donkey, nobody could tell me where he was, or who might have taken him. Before I could even ask to see the owner, Lady Robyrtah Greensash, they informed me that she had been killed during the riot. I let the issue lie. I felt bad for even bringing it up. 

The roasted pheasant dinner, washed down with a goblet of Saerloonian Glowfire, really did wonders for taking the edge off my sadness. Seems that Saerloonian wines aren’t in short supply nowadays, especially considering the new influx of Sembian merchants. They must have come up with the mayor as well.

*4th of Mirtul, 1376 D.R.*

I had trouble sleeping last night...even after the wine and dinner, and even after the long hot bath that I had had. I had such horrible nightmares. They  were filled with images of people that I had seen walking, talking, and laughing in the city streets, piled up on the cold, unholy ground of Valhingen Cemetery. Every time I closed my eyes, there they were...but some were worse. They progressed every time I tried to sleep....  They would just lie there at first, but as the night wore on, they would start smiling at me...cold...evil smiles, and their eyes looked so hateful, so condemning. I even saw that poor little Elven girl we had committed to flame..she smiled so sweetly at me, then he face turned cold and dead, and that lovely smile became so sour..... It was horrible. When they started actually trying to get up and walk towards me, I just gave up sleep altogether. I spent the rest of the morning playing the harp that we found, trying to calm my own nerves.

The day got better after that. This morning, Razsamar greeted us with, breakfast and also the wondrous tale that follows:

_I was born in 1289 DR on the coast of the Alamber Sea. As a young boy I met Ungred Kezel as he traveled throughout my homeland of Unther, entertaining adults and children alike with his clever magic tricks and wonderful stories. It was then that my obsession with magic began. It was then that I knew my path. My desire to learn magic was so strong that I followed Ungred and joined his performances. That time was the happiest I’ve ever known. After a few years of travel, others had joined us and the Wondering Fates were formed.

After several requests by wealthy merchants in Aglarond and Chessenta, the Fates decided to take their performances beyond Unther. Ungred knew that the troupe would be gone for a long time and did not wish the Art to be neglected in me, so he arranged a magical apprenticeship. Under the tutelage of the wizardress Delina my gift was finally able to flourish. In just a few years I was able to seek my own destiny.

Decades passed, my power grew, and I traveled many of the lands of Faerun, even to worlds beyond. Regardless how much power I gathered, time itself seemed intent to defeat me. I felt old age incessantly haunting me. I tried many of the common magical methods to stave off time, but alas, time would know no defeat. Finding no answers in the research of others, I pioneered a new method of renewing my youth.

I meant to rejuvenate myself in spirit and body… I remember little but the flash of light and the stink of my own flesh as it sizzled and burned away. When I finally awoke I found that my magics had split me in twain. Something had gone horrible awry and had split my spirit and body in two. One half had many of the traits of my younger self, the spirit and passion of youth. That man, brimming with vigor and life, was the Samar you knew. After that horrible ordeal he returned to where he felt happy and safe, among his friends in The Wondering Fates.

Razsamar, the man you journeyed the dungeon with, felt nothing of the emotion and vigor of youth, he was old and tired, but what he lacked in energy he made up for in experience and wisdom. Razsamar sought refuge in his studies, spending the next long years in research and experimentation before finally understanding all that had occurred in his original magics._

When Razsamar had completed the tale of his life, he departed, but not before asking Nym to accompany him. 

We saw neither the wizard nor the blue-haired Elf child all for the rest of the  day, but the two returned that evening, and Razsamar deemed to speak to us yet again. Our reward, he informed us, was not only that we could keep the gold and items that we had found while in the dungeon, but also that he would identify all items that glowed with the Weave, free of charge. He said that he would need to take the things with him, but promised that he would return with them in a tenday, and tell us what they are.

To calm our apprehension, he presented each of us with a small token bearing what I can only construe to be his own sigil. He swore that the sigil would guarantee his word to his. I had a feeling that he wasn't lying. We gave him the things, and he departed. 

*15th of Mirtul, 1376 D.R.*
Razsamar returned our items tonight, but I will get to that in a moment. 

Following his departure on the 5th, each of us in the party took this past tenday as our own. I myself spent the week at the mercenary training hall, honing my skills as a duelist. A few of my comrades joined me. 

Our days were spent tired, sweaty, and sore. Now that I think about it, it wasn't much of a vacation, but it was still preferable to trudging through a grimy dungeon or stumbling over rocks in the Underdark. We spent out evenings together, all of us, discussing the unfolding of events in Phlan.

Never have I seen such order in the streets of this city, and never have I sensed so much turmoil in its leaders. During the time that we've been back, we've managed to learn what has happened since the riot. The disasters that befell Phlan on the day of the 30th of Tarsahk had left its victims angry and seeking whatever scapegoat they could find. On the 30th of Tarsakh, they have gone after every non-Human that they could find. Now, they are going after the mayor, Kella Voskorm.

We had learned over the course of the past week that it had been Mayor Voskorm, with help from hired Saerloonian soldiers from the Golden Sword Mercenary Company based out of Sembia, that had turned the tide of the uprising. 

Tomorrow noon, on the 16th of Mirtul, she plans to address the city. 
We were preparing to discuss the matter further over dinner this evening, but Razsamar returned. True to his word, he returned all of our treasure, as well as whatever information he could garner concerning their histories and abilities. It turns out that the harp that we had found was created by the infamous Harper, the Mist Master, for a bard that I believe mother met on a couple of occasions! The bard's name is Marco Sal, and from what I've been told, he wears very puffy golden pants. It truly is a small world!

Razsamar would not stay the evening in Phlan, citing urgent business in Unther, but he promised to return at the end of two months time. 

*16th of Mirtul, 1376 D.R.*

Everyone in town converged upon the courthouse again today, not to riot and burn it, but instead to hear the mayor’s address. There, for everyone to hear, she announced that she would be relinquishing her position as mayor of Phlan, and that the Council had already named her replacement.

It was to be Holondos Stimpiir, the kindly Turmish Cleric who oversaw The Waiting. It is hoped that under Holondos’s rule, stability and safety will be restored to the city. Upon taking the podium himself, Holondos explained that Kella Voskorm will continue to hold the position until the 30th of Mirtul. 
On the 1st day of Kythorn, Holondos will be inaugurated as mayor of Phlan. 
He concluded his own address by wishing Tyr’s blessings on every one of us, and a bright future for Phlan. 

Holondos had spoken only kindly of Kella, and he had explained that though the position of mayor was asked of him, he did not seek it out. Later this evening, predictably enough, Bishop Dirten Andorias was granted the position of Revered Father of The Waiting. 

While only Mattathias attended the ceremony for Revered Father Dirten, our entire group was invited by Holondos to attend his inauguration and the festivities that would take place afterwards, on the 1st of Kythorn. 

*20th of Mirtul, 1376 D.R.*
Today was spent in preparation for the upcoming inaugural celebration of Holondos Stimpiir. The entire city is bustling with activity! The spirits of the citizens are dampened only by the mercenary presence, and even then it isn't too much.

I’m having the tailor in the Cracked Crown make a gown for me! It’s strapless with two layers, both of them a lovely blush color. The bottom layer is perfectly opaque, but the upper, more filmy layer, will be translucent. It’s going to be a lovely dress! I think I’ll have him sew some red silk roses around the bustline. That should be enchanting… Maybe I should have him also make a wrap for it.

AGH!

I’m starting to sound like my mother! Nevermind the wrap, but I’ll keep the red silk roses. I _would_ say that I hope there are some handsome and dashing warriors there, but if there are they’d be from Sembia. I’d trust a Sembian about as much as I would a camel trader from Calimshan! How eerie that was though, that that thought just crept up on me like that…

When I start growing my hair out and spending hours “beautying” myself up on a regular basis, I’ll know I’ve finally become my mother. Heaven forbid I start oiling it like father! Or maybe I should just shave it off, like grandmother suggested? Oh how funny that would look! I’d look like a perfect little Mulhorandi wouldn’t I? Just like father always wanted. Bleagh.

Ooh, it’s time for dinner, I had better go.

*1st of Kythorn, 1376 D.R.*

Well....we’re on the run again! The inauguration ceremony for Holondos went splendidly, but the ball that took place afterwards wasn’t quite so nice, even though that handsome Yish was there. Normally I’d relish seeing a stuffy ballroom full of stuffy people suddenly erupt into chaos, but this was more than a simple mouse dashing up some lady’s leg or a cockroach in the soup.

As it turns out, the Fire Knives assassins had poisoned the food! It wasn’t too long after we had sat down to eat that people started dropping all around me! Mithras and Nym began to gurgle and froth, and they passed out, as did many others in that room. I couldn’t tell you exactly how many the poison claimed, but in those long stunned seconds before everyone else realized what was happening and began to scream and charge for the door like panicked sheep, I could see that it was easily a quarter of the room. Many of them were seated at the table of honor.

I grabbed for Nym, and Mattathias hefted Mithras over his shoulder. The two Elves in tow, we made for a side door, where we were met by Anassa DuLar, the one-armed monk friend of Mattathias. She told us that if we didn’t leave town right at that minute, that we would all die.

We moved as quickly as we could! While Mattathias and Anassa carried Mithras and Nym to safety, I gathered up our belongings and arranged for horses enough to carry us all. Mattathias had administered a healing ointment to both of the stricken Elves, and while they seemed to stop fading, neither was fit to ride.

I spent nearly 800 gold of my own money on those horses, their tack, and food enough for a week. When I found Anassa and Mattathias, we loaded them up quickly, and rode out of Phlan, me holding Nym on my horse. Mithras rode with Mattathias. Once again we managed to leave the city leaving only chaos and fear in our wake. This time, however, we are making for the Monastery of the Yellow Rose, somewhere in the mountains of Damara.

We've gotten as far as Thar today, and what a miserable place this is! The sun hasn’t shined since we set foot into this barren and wasted land! The only traces of life we’ve seen all day have been lurkers watching us from afar, and bones..lots and lots of bones.

Oh yes, we did meet up with Katar a few miles outside of Phlan! Seems he was waiting for us...Anassa must have found him first. He had Cotton with him too! After he had collected his herbs from the Quivering Forest on the 30th, he had gone back to Phlan to meet us, but had found the city in chaos. He didn't talk too much about what happened, but he said that he didn't stay there for too long. I still don't know how he got ahold of Cotton. 

Cotton doesn’t seem to enjoy Thar very much, but neither do the horses for that matter. I don’t think anyone else does either. It’s hard to believe that this was once a thriving mining region once... Now the only miners we're likely to see are whatever's big and mean enough to stake a claim. Honestly I hope they’re doing better than we are... The only promise _I _ see in these mountains is death.

Isis hasn’t left her pouch once since we came here. There's nothing that's worth the effort I suppose. Katar did find some conies when he went hunting for dinner. They were a little stringy, and tasted a little oily, but they were better than nothing. They left a strange aftertaste too....I can still taste them. The others are deciding who’s going to take what watch. I guess I’ll take first, I'm wide awake for it. Mithras and Nym are still too weak to hold onto consciousness for too long. That leaves me, Mattathias, Katar, and Anassa.

It’s bitterly cold out here, and the wind bites deep enough to chill your heart. I can hear strange sounds in the night, but I’m awake and alive. Out here, that’s all that matters.

*2nd of Kythorn, 1376 D.R.*
We’ve ventured deeper into Thar and I see no end in sight, but at least Mithras and Nym have made a tremendous recovery. The ointment that Mattathias administered the day before has done wonders to purge the poison from their bodies. It was only a matter of time before its effects began to wear off.

Now, they’ve spent the day bundled together on the same horse because Mithras either can’t ride, or is too afraid of horses to ride one alone. They’re back to their usual selves too. Mithras hasn't stopped scowling once.

On a much sadder note, we met an ogre today, poor doomed creature that it was. He was sitting slumped against a sign-post and he begged us for food or money as we passed. Never have I felt so badly for an ogre as I did for that one. I could see doom in his eyes, and I knew that it wasn’t far off. His leg was so horribly mangled that it was festering. I think it was even gangrenous... it was swelling and it stank of rotting meat.

Mattathias shared what little food he had with the poor beast, and Anassa gave it a potion and something else to ease its suffering. That ogre was so grateful... I think it gave Mattathias something. 

After that, we continued on, in the direction of a town named Glister. Anassa claims that the portal to the Monastery lies near there, about a half a day's ride from the town.

What a place Glister must be to survive sandwiched between this hell and the Galena Mountains! As we continued our ride, we encountered more ogres, but these weren’t _begging_ for what they wanted, they were trying to take it...from a merchant caravan.

It was a tought fight, but we killed all of the ogres. Unfortunately, wy use of The Art was enough to make the caravan distrustful of me. It seems that they were originally from Luskan. I can understand their apprehension, I suppose, but it bothers me that they thought so little of one who had just saved their lives.

Katar was more offended by their attitudes than I was. The centaur demanded to know why the caravan leader was so rude to me. The man replied that they were grateful we had saved them. He also said, in essence, that we could take one chest from their broken wagon for our efforts, except for their precious bureau, and then we could leave them be. 

One of their wagons was completely overturned, and a wheel on the other wagon was shattered, but they had refused our offer of help with repairs. Anassa said that we had no time to spare anyway, and that we would have to leave them there. It seems so pointless to save someone’s life only to leave them to possibly another cruel fate, particularly if the Fire Knives are following us, like Anassa claims. 

Anassa and Katar got into an argument over the issue. Well, over Mattathias’s deferment to Anassa _regarding_ the issue to be more precise. Katar believes that Anassa is being cruel to our monk-cleric friend. I think that he thinks she's trying to control him. He doesn’t understand... It’s easy to forget sometimes just how little experience Katar has had in the world outside of the Chondalwood.

After a shocking incident where Katar... exposed himself... (is it called exposing yourself when a Centaur does this?) to Anassa, we went on. I don’t know why that shocked me really. I guess I had forgotten for the most part that Katar is half horse. There’s nothing quite like watching him flop out his... horsehood... to remind you.

With a few acidic words, Anassa shot Katar down, and then skulked off to shadow the group, leaving the centaur fuming. The rest of us just decided to continue our journey, even though some of us were in turmoil about leaving the Luskan travelers behind, or just plain angry over Anassa.

Mithras, who had had enough of either I suppose, stopped us about a mile later and pulled a bottle of wine from his pack. I, personally, didn’t see the wisdom in getting drunk in a place such as Thar, but Mithras began to speak. He told us that we had shed blood for each other, and that we were all his friends.

He went on to explain to us that the bottle of wine that he was holding was made by his kin out of some sort of ice grapes. He told us how precious it was to him because he would likely never have another bottle. Then he uncorked it. He poured himself a small glass, and then he swore on that glass of wine, and his honor, that he would fight for and protect each and every one of us.

He poured another glass and passed it to Katar, who said that we were his new family, and that he would die to protect us. Mattathias, when passed a glass, did much the same, swearing his own life in defense of our group. Nym said something sweet, and far too wise for someone so young, and swore the same oath, though I’m not sure he completely understood what he was swearing to. I was last, and I wasn’t sure what to say.

I just stood there, holding that glass of Mithras’s cherished wine in my hand, struggling with my own thoughts. I wanted to, I really wanted to, but that’s not what I came to Faerun to do. That’s not what I set out to do when I cast father’s spell.

Could I simply cast away my goal, could I simply allow what I did to go unchanged for this group of people, my friends, before me? No... I can’t. But how could I possibly explain that to them who have just sworn their lives to protect me?

I blurted out something that I can’t even remember now, even though I said it only just this afternoon, and I sipped the wine. I could not bring myself to drink the whole cup.

The others stared at me for a bit, expecting something more, but I couldn’t possibly say what I should’ve said. I just sipped the wine and handed Mithras back the cup. I felt like such an ass...

When the whole humiliating experience was over, we got back on our horses and we rode for a few hours. I still couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I know that what I am doing is the right thing to do, and... I must have looked so selfish to all of them.

Thankfully, we came across a scene that allowed me to forget my turmoil for a little while. It was truly grisly. Orc women and children had apparently been slaughtered on the roadway and left there to rot. It looked like they had been running, and the ground around them was blackened and dark with their blood.

The scene was so heinous that I thought that they had been slain with spells, but Anassa suggested that they were the victims of an orcish clan war. Judging by the closeness of all the bodies I imagine the attack was swift and brutal. We didn’t linger there for too long. We gave Anassa and Mattathias enough time to check for survivors, but they found none. We moved on.

We kept on for another hour or so more, and it was as the sun began to set that Katar spotted the bird flying overhead. We ignored it for a while, but it became increasingly clear that it was tailing us. It was just a small bird, maybe a wren, I don’t really know. I’m not very well versed in bird biology.

I know that Mithras and Katar had debated shooting it down, and it made Anassa nervous to no end, but in the end we decided that we would simply charge ahead as quickly as we could. Obviously, someone was watching us.

We found out who it was shortly after we crested a large hill and came upon a sizable clearing. There, in the center of this wide expanse of flat land, was half a boat!

Standing in the crows nest of the boat was a small figure, who promptly began to wave and project his voice at us, inviting us to come into his shop and sample his wares. It was...a surprise! It was simply too bizarre to ignore....so we all rode down to investigate. As we approached, the figure climbed down from the crows nest and ran out to meet us. He introduced himself as Smoot, travelling merchant, diviner wizard, and collector of odds and ends both magical and mundane. 

He added that he was expecting us, and even addressed us by our names, or at least a reasonable facsimile of our names. He kept calling Katar “Matar" or "Tar,” and he butchered Mattathias’s name in so many different ways I can’t list them here. He did have a very intriguing shop, however.

I myself purchased a few items there, one of them a gorgeous dress that changes color in accordance with the fall season. It’s a stunning vision in orange, red, and yellow during the autumn, but the rest of the year it’s an undyed shade of white. Smoot called it a Leaffall dress, and hinted that it is sometimes customary for the wearer to shed the dress on the last day of fall, presumably for a lover. I have no lover, but the dress is gorgeous nonetheless.

I also bought a small statuette that Smoot referred to as the Lady of Ixinos. He claims that it was unearthed from a deeply buried ruin on the island of Ixinos, which is located at the entrance to the Vilhon Reach. He couldn’t guess at an approximate age, but he said that he was fairly sure that it predated the Jhaamdath Empire, which would make it very old indeed. Neither of us has any idea who the woman was that the statuette depicts, but when I held it, I could feel the barest hints of magic. The magic almost seemed to shift as I held it. It bears some looking into later. Perhaps I’ll use the magical harp.

As for everyone else, I think Mattathias, Mithras, and Nym bought mostly clothing. Anassa didn’t buy anything. She didn't even enter Smoot's shop once. Katar doesn’t have enough money to buy what he wants. That centaur really needs to learn how to count.

Mithras, Mattathias, Nym, and myself are each going to donate some money to buy the things that Katar wants. We haven’t told him though; we want to surprise him.

Smoot allowed us to camp in his boat tonight. It really is amazing! It floats, he says, like a Halruaan skyship. I’m inclined to believe him. Afterall, however else are you going to get half a ship all the way out into the mountains?

Well, it’s time to go to sleep, maybe I can finally translate Razsamar’s scroll when I get to the Monastery.


----------



## Nydia (Apr 19, 2004)

*3rd of Kythorn, 1376 D.R.*
We aren’t at the Monastery yet, but at least we’re out of Thar. We had woken up this morning to find that, during the night, Katar had acquired a pet.

Tied to a rope that was also tied around Katar’s stomach was the most pathetic looking orc I have ever seen. It kept trying to gnaw itself free whenever it thought that Katar wasn’t looking. Its mouth was bleeding; it must have lost a few teeth in the process. We didn’t take it with us, of course.

After we had all eaten and gathered up our things to continue our journey to the portal, Mattathias and Anassa gave it some food and water, and some medicine for its wounds and an infection of sorts. Pity they couldn’t do anything for the smell..

Just before we left, Katar broke its shoddy spear and threw it into some tall grass, and then he set the orc free. The orc whimpered a little, obviously afraid that we might kill him (I think it was a him), and then he charged for his broken spear, picked it up, and waved it at Katar. Silly orc.

Katar jokingly lunged forward at it, and the orc screamed and ran as fast as it could back into the mountains. We all left after that.

Anassa claimed that it was only another few hours to the portal. She said that we should reach it around noon. The morning was without event for the most part, but just short of noon we encountered another caravan. This caravan was much larger than the caravan from Luskan. We counted maybe 50 men, most of them armed and armored and traveling on horseback.

Their wagons were stout and well-armored themselves, but the group flew no banners and wore no merchant colors. Anassa urged us to get off the road. She didn’t want to be seen, so she slipped off into the mountains to our left.
Katar went ahead to intercept a group of mounted men that were attempting to flank us from the right. The rest of us merely went on ahead to meet the small group that was coming in our direction.

They were curt, but not rude or threatening... they wanted to know where such a small group was headed. We told them Glister, and they nodded and went on their way.

We followed Anassa off the road when they returned to their caravan, and finally she led us to the portal. It didn’t look like any portal I had ever seen, but then I’ve only really seen arcane gates.

The field that Anassa said contained the portal held several large boulders. These Anassa had us align, stating that the portal would only open if the boulders’ shadows were in exact spots or somesuch.

When we had them where Anassa stated they should be, she pulled out a holy symbol from her top and attempted to open the portal. Nothing happened.

She gave up after a few minutes and said that she’d try again later in the afternoon. The portal only opened at specific times during the day, when the shadows were cast just right, she said.

The portal did open the second time, and when we had passed through it, we all found ourselves in an even colder place, somewhere high in the mountains. The snow came up to our knees and it fell so heavily that we could barely see what was a few feet in front of us.

Anassa was leading us further up the mountains. We were able to ride the horses for a short while, but soon the ground grew so treacherous that we worried constantly whether they would slip and fall. The higher we ascended, the worse it became, especially when we found ourselves on a narrow walkway, with a steep wall to our left, and a deep chasm to our right.

The ground was frozen, slippery in some places, and Anassa advised us that if the horses to were to slip and fall, we should let them, to not try and stop them. It’s better that they fall down the chasm instead of us.

It was so bitterly cold. I’ve never been so cold in all my life! I’ve begun to miss Mulhorand, all the sun, the heat, the feel of the warm sand between my toes.

Argh I HATE the damn north and the damn mountains and the damn snow!
This Monastery had better be worth this! We pressed on the rest of the day. I think we traveled all of 3 miles, if we’re lucky.

Right now, we’re camped in a sort of glade. There are trees surrounding us, and they provide a small measure of shelter from the wind, but it’s still dark and miserable. The snow is falling so thickly I can’t even see the sky. 

Its still cold, how can the others not be freezing as much as I am!? Anassa and Katar are still being icy with one another. I don’t even know where Anassa is. Mattathias and Nym are asleep in their own bedrolls. Mithras is up a tree. I haven’t seen so much as a shiver out of him since we left Phlan….it must be magic. Elves aren’t exactly known for their hardiness.

Hmm…Anassa has just come back. She says that we should reach the Monastery tommorrow. That’ll be good. I hate being out here in the snow.

*4th of Kythorn, 1376 D.R.*
We continued our journey as early as we could, pushing our way through the snow and the wind for hours. About midday, as we crested a small rise, the Monastery of the Yellow Rose came into view in the distance. It was a gorgeous site. By then we had climbed so high into the mountains that we had risen above the snow. It looked like we were climbing higher than the clouds and the sun was shining so bright... it was beautiful.

The monastery was further on, on a distant peak, and the radiant sun glinted like off its surface and the peaks around it. The mountains looked like they were made of solid gold. It reminds me of Skuld, but more ethereal, more serene. It really uplifted the soul to see all that. It felt like I was beholding one of the seven Heavens. I know it made the journey go faster.

We encountered another traveler as we progressed, an Ilmatari worshiper who had bound his legs together and was dragging himself to the monastery.
He looked so happy to be doing so, he refused when we offered to help him. 
He’d been dragging himself through that snow for miles, but he looked so ecstatic. I cannot even imagine, but then, many religions don’t make sense to me.

We had to leave the horses when we finally reached the long winding stair that would lead us to monastery’s door. Each of the stones in the stairs had a name on it, Anassa told us that there was a stone for every monk of the yellow rose that had died.

Anassa agreed to stay with the horses, and Katar agreed to stay behind as well. Anassa gave Mattathias something to give to the monk that met us, and the rest of us continued on up the stairs.

We finally reached the door of the monastery about an hour later. We knocked, but no one answered, so we just went on in and found ourselves in a fairly simple courtyard with a water pump in the center. A teenaged boy was pumping water into a bucket.  He instructed us to knock at another door that we saw on the other side of the courtyard.

Well, the door was actually inset into the wall just beside an enormous locked stone gate. We sounded the gong on the gate, but nobody answered, so after a while we tried the door. The door opened into a narrow corridor that led to another courtyard on the other side of the towering gate.

That’s where we met our first monk. He was a gruff man, but then I suspect most Ilmatari are. He demanded to know why we were there, and Mattathias did most of the talking, as he should have.

Things went well until he handed the man the bundle that Anassa had given him. The monk grew very cold after that, demanding to know where we had gotten it and why Anassa “the traitor” had given it to him.

Mattathias told him what he knew, and the monk said that Mithras, Nym, and myself could all stay the night because it would be getting dark soon and it would be rude to turn away guests, but he said that Mattathias would have to come with him.

Mithras, Nym, and I were escorted into the monastery proper and showed to our rooms. Mattathias went with the monk. I don’t know where he is. Doubtless the monk is testing him, wherever he is, or at least I hope so. I know it would be terrible for Mattathias to come all this way to be turned away for something that isn’t his fault.

Anassa had to have known how the bundle would be received when she gave it to him. I hope he’s okay.  It doesn’t seem to me that these people would be likely to kill him, but you never know sometimes. Maybe we’ll find out in the morning.

*5th of Kythorn, 1376 D.R.*
We weren’t escorted out of the monastery like I thought we would, which leads me to believe that Mattathias is still here somewhere too. I spent the day roaming around the building I’m in; it really is quite a lovely place.

I’ve discovered that the monastery isn’t devoted entirely to suffering at all.
They’ve artisans, craftsmen, artists and the like, and scholars. There is even a library, with books on other subjects than Ilmater! The best part is, they have baths!

I took a bath this morning. Best bath I’ve had since, well, for a while. I had baths in Phlan, but they were sorely lacking. These baths were wonderful! I feel clean, truly clean now!

After my bath, I practiced my harp, and then explored. I found Nym playing with a number of other children. I haven’t seen Mithras. I wonder how Katar is doing?

Aside from the monastery itself, there really isn’t much to write about, unless I want to admit that I spent the day “lazing about” as my sister says. The monastery is an old building, not as old as some buildings I’ve seen, but it is ancient by current Phlanian standards (I know that isn’t saying much really). It also looks sturdy enough to ride out a dragon attack. The walls here are thick, well constructed, and everything is very well maintained.

The décor is very plain, at least compared to other places I’ve been, but it’s still very cozy. I could get used to staying here. I think I’ll check out that library tomorrow.

*25th of Kythorn, 1376 D.R.*
It’s been a while since I lost wrote. Two weeks in fact. I just finished reading Elminster’s A Myth-Drannon Amphigory. It was a little long-winded, and the old man rambled on quite a bit, but it was very interesting nonetheless.

My translation of the “scroll” that Razsamar gave me is coming along well. I can already see that there are two different languages written on them. The first language looks very close to the language of old Netheril (thank you Dad for actually taking the time to punish me enough for me to learn that one). The second language looks completely alien to me.

I can make out certain words in the first tongue. I think it must be another form of Netherese, maybe a higher caste tongue, or a derivitive, even an ancestor.

*5th of Flamerule, 1376 D.R.*
I’ve made considerable progress in my translations of the scroll. As I had guessed, it is most definitely another form of Netherese. In fact, I have determined it to be the language of Lorass, or High Netherese, the language of the Netherese ruling class. 

This is so exciting! The grammatical structure, the word placement, word meanings, even the spelling of certain words is just different enough from Netherese. This language, Lorass, is so much more intricate, so much more difficult. They must have developed it so only their archwizards would learn it. 

I can’t wait until I have it fully translated! I have only the very basic nouns, pronouns, and verbs translated now, and it’s still too ambiguous for me to say what I think it might be. I’d best stop thinking about it for now. If I keep myself so worked up about translating the scroll, I’ll never get to sleep tonight!

Other news, oh! I found the children that I had seen Nym playing with, but Nym wasn’t among them. It seems that the little blue-haired rascal has taken to spending time with the artisans. When I asked him why, he said it was because he wasn’t getting along with the other children. He wouldn’t say much more than that, but he seemed to be enjoying himself, posing in all sorts of acrobatic positions for the painters and sculptors.

There are works of him all over the place, I would imagine they don’t get too many visitors up here, not to mention visitors who would pose so readily for a sitting. I remember having to sit and pose for family portraits, ugh.

We still haven’t seen Mattathias. I hear he’s still undergoing his initiation into the monastery. I hope he’s alright. We haven’t seen Mithras for a while either. Nym wants to go out tomorrow to visit him and Katar. Why he couldn’t just have stayed in the monastery I do not know. Why anyone would actually want to be out in that icy cold boggles the mind. Maybe I’ll go out with Nym anyway. For now, I’m going to try and get some sleep.

*6th of Flamerule, 1376 D.R.*
Nym and I had gone out to visit Mithras and Katar today. Katar was nowhere to be found, and Mithras made it extremely difficult to find him, but eventually he came down out of the trees.

Nym and I had decided to build a snow-elf, and as we were trying to pack on the ears and make them stick, we saw Mithras peering at us from behind a snowdrift. Well, from under the snowdrift to be more precise. He had tried to cover himself in snow, but we saw patches of black hair and two beady purple eyes among the white.

When he realized we had seen him, namely when Nym ran up to hug him, he reluctantly stood up and made his presence known. His clothes were caked with snow and ice. He still didn’t look cold. He looked sheepish for a moment, just before that customary arrogant Mithras smirk found its way back to his face, but he certainly did not look cold. Yes, it had to be magic. I’ve never heard of ice elves.

When he had disentangled himself from Nym, he came over and critiqued our snow-elf. He said it looked more like a particularly ugly snow-goblin, or a particularly attractive human. I threw one of the ears at him. 

Never hit him, of course, that jerk can dodge objects better than a Amnian spice merchant can dodge the tax collector. He just stepped nimbly to the side and folded his arms across his chest. I threw the other ear at him just to try and wipe that superior sneer off of his face. As he was side-stepping that one, Nym got him in the back of the head with a snowball.

It was a lucky shot, I’m sure, but it still took Mithras by surprise. He wheeled around to glare at Nym, just in time to see the elf-child go bounding off into the forest, shrieking with laughter. I briefly considered the risk of causing an avalanche, but clearly I was the only one worried.

Mithras ran after him, stopping momentarily to collect an armload of snow. I, not wanting to be left out of the fun, chased after both of them. I’m not too fast in the snow, suffice it to say, and by the time I caught up with them, Mithras had wrestled Nym to the ground and had buried him in the snow, only Nym’s head was showing.

Nym was still giggling, trying to escape from his snowy blanket. Mithras kept packing it on extra tight, threatening to leave him there. While he was busy piling on snow, I nailed him upside his pointy elf head with a nicely packed snowball. 

Nym erupted in uncontrollable laughter, and for a moment I didn’t know what to do. Mithras just stopped adding snow to Nym, flicked the remnants of the snowball off of his head, and lunged at me! I was so surprised I screamed and tried to run! That’s when I tripped and fell onto my face into a deep snowbank.

As I was struggling to free myself, I felt a snowball impact the back of my head and I could hear high-pitched laughter coming from behind me. It was the first time I had ever heard Mithras laugh. I couldn’t believe it was him at first. I turned my head just enough to be sure it was actually him. It was...

I squirmed onto my backside, and I guess my mystified expression made him remember himself for a moment, because he abruptly stopped laughing and genuinely looked surprised at his own light-heartedness. That was until Nym managed to free himself and pelted us both with fresh snowballs. Mithras was hit in the side, but I was hit in the chest, and some of the snow found its way down the front of my tunic. Oh it was so cold!!

I jumped to my feet to try and shake the snow out as Mithras gathered snow for a counter-attack. Nym hastily erected a low wall out of the snow that Mithras had been using to bury him, and Mithras took pot shots at will, pelting both of us with snowballs even as I was still struggling to get to the swiftly melting slush out of my clothes.

When it became clear to Nym that his wall wouldn’t protect him, he climbed up the nearest tree and started to collect snow from the branches. Mithras ducked behind a different tree, and I took the opportunity to find a tree of my own to hide behind.

I could hear the battle raging from where I was hidden, the low, meaty thumps and crackles as tightly packed snowballs found the ground, the sides of trees, and snow-covered tree branches.

I myself was busy, still trying to get the now watery slush out of my top. I was so busy trying to dry my chilled flesh that I hadn’t even noticed the noises had stopped. I had just gotten all that cold, wet, slushy, icy mess out of my tunic when a huge pile of snow just fell out of the sky and landed right on top of me.

For a moment, I just stood there, in shock, but after a second or two I brought myself to look up, into the branches of my tree where Nym was smiling widely down at me. The two branches nearest to him conspicuously absent of snow.

“NYM!” I shrieked, and he laughed like a little blue-haired imp and scrambled onto another tree. When I ducked around the tree trunk to gain some cover against Nym, I was met by swift pain, and then white numbing cold as Mithras’s tightly packed snowball caught me directly beneath my right eye.

I stumbled about, blind in that eye, and finally slumped back against the tree. 
The right side of my face, where the snowball had hit, was numbed and was beginning to throb painfully. I was aware that Nym and Mithras had stopped the snowball fight and were watching me as I gingerly wiped the snow off my face and tried, even more carefully, to wipe it from my eye. I could see as soon as I got all the ice and water out, but I knew that my cheek would bruise, probably a lovely shade of purple.

I lay my hand over the cheek to warm it, and then climbed back onto my feet. The two elves craned forward to see the damage done. I informed them that I was fine, and the fight was on again!

We threw snowballs, dodged around trees, and wrestled in the snow banks for a good while. We finally came to a stop when we were interrupted by three of the monks from the monastery. They had heard our shouts and laughter from miles away, and had come to investigate, warning us that our sounds might draw something hungrier and more dangerous than we were prepared to handle, like a remorhaz.

I couldn’t help but notice that they looked disappointed, I’ll bet they were hoping there was a remorhaz. I hear the monks here like to ride them for sport. These monks are insane.

At any rate, when we had stopped hurling snowballs and dodging behind trees, Nym and I decided to return to the monastery. Mithras, who had grown strangely moody after having so much fun, did not choose to accompany us back.

Nym had offered to stay outside that night with him, to keep him company, but Mithras said that he’d rather be alone. Neither Nym nor I could talk him out of his refusal, so we returned to the monastery alone.

We had dinner, and then Nym went off to do something. I have just returned from my evening bath and am about to settle into bed for the night. Maybe we can go out and have more fun tomorrow.

*7th of Flamerule, 1376 D.R.*
Nym and I went out looking for Mithras again today, but we couldn’t find him. The expression on his face when Nym and I had returned to the monastery had been so forlorn, so sad, almost wistful. I hope he’s alright, I felt bad leaving him, frustrating bastard that he is.

I don’t think he’s dead, maybe he left or really just wanted to be alone, and not just for last night either. The two of us completed our snow-elf and then went back to the monastery. I believe Nym spent the rest of the day with the artisans. I spent the rest of mine here in this room, trying to decipher that scroll. It’s been altogether an uneventful day. I think I’ll turn in.

*Below is an image of the Monastery of the Yellow Rose*


----------



## Nydia (Apr 19, 2004)

*30th of Flamerule, 1376 D.R.*
Over the past couple weeks, Nym and I went back outside the monastery to find Mithras. At first, we couldn’t, but eventually he reappeared, but he never showed any further desire for mirth, as he had on the 6th.

When Nym tried to engage him in play, he’d react in a highly surly manner and wander off. We still don’t know where Katar is. We haven’t seen him since the day we arrived here, and while Mithras says that he is safe, we don’t really know. None of us has heard from him. We haven’t heard from Mattathias either, though there is a chance we may see him at the festivities tomorrow.

Tomorrow is Midsummer and the monks are planning some sort of celebration. 
I suppose even worshippers of the god of suffering have to have fun sometime. I wonder if there will be dancing. I’m going to assume that it’s too much to ask for to hope there will be some handsome young men there, men who don’t whip themselves, burn themselves, or ride remorhaz.

It would be nice to have someone to dance with, I haven’t been in so long. I haven’t been dancing since Samostil, almost 3 years ago? He was a really good dancer too, and handsome too. I can still remember those gorgeous blue eyes and that gorgeous round...eheh. Oh well…I’m pretty sure I won’t be seeing any of that here.

Damn. I’d best stop thinking about it, it won’t get me anything but frustrated.

*Midsummer, 1376 D.R.*
Today was a lovely day, even though we are still high in the mountains and it is still extremely cold. The celebration went splendidly! I think it’s still going on in certain areas, in fact.

There was music, singing, revelry, feats of strength and endurance, acrobatic displays, there was even dancing! The dances were all very simple, of course. Apparently the monks here aren’t very big on dancing.

There were some young men, some of them might have been handsome were it not for the self-imposed suffering, and the not-so self-imposed suffering and all of that. Still, it was a fun party.

Mattathias never made an appearance, but Mithras, amazingly, did come up. He glowered and kept near one of the walls the whole time he was there. If the monks had held an “I’m the biggest Party-Pooper” contest, he would have won! I know he can dance, I’ve seen him wiggle those narrow hips on occasion.
Pooper.

When the feast was over, many of the monks went out to ride a remorhaz. I wonder how many of them will come back? Normally I’d feel bad, but I don’t know what to make of these people sometimes. To think that Mattathias wishes to become one of them, I wonder if he’ll be able to pull it off.

Nym asked if he could go watch the monks ride that creature, and they very politely told him “no.”  I could see that Nym was disappointed. Maybe Mattathias will let him watch if he ever decides to go try. I know I won’t be watching, ugh!

The smell of it must be horrendous! I would have to borrow Mithras’s nose plugs, as nasty as that would be! Ugh, to borrow noseplugs after an Elf, hahahaha! I wonder what mother and father would say to that? Nothing good I’ll wager. 

It’s so late now and I can still hear music playing. At least you can’t say that Ilmater’s flock doesn’t party hard. I saw a few of them playing a drinking game earlier, or at least I think it was a drinking game. It involved a bed of flaming coals, one person standing in them, and the others pouring him a drink for every 10 seconds or so he stood there among the coals. Apparently this isn’t commonly accepted behavior, as I saw some of the older monks frowning in the direction of this small group.

One of them, a nice old man I have seen about a few times, explained that they were on holiday. The bottoms of their feet looked so ghastly horrible, I thought I would vomit.

All I know is, if I was granted a 10-day reprieve each year from suffering, I wouldn’t spend those 10 days making myself suffer more. But, at least they get a reprieve of some sort.

Tyrrans have to spend everyday of every year being stodgy and grim. Oh what a joy it must be to be a worshipper of Lliira, Oghma, or Sune!
I think I can hear some of the monks laughing, probably scalding their buttocks or something of that sort. I can only imagine what kind of dreams I’m going to have tonight.

*10th of Eleasias, 1376 D.R.*
We’re still here in the monastery, and while I’m making great progress on my translation of Razsamar’s scroll, I’m also beginning to wonder just how long our stay here will be. It has been over 2 months since we arrived, and we haven’t seen hide or hair of Mattathias or Katar in all this time.

To our complete surprise, Mithras is still out there in the mountains waiting when Nym and I venture outside the monastery walls. I surely would have died from boredom by now if our situations were reversed. Mithras tells us that Katar is doing well. Apparently, Katar drops by and visits with him on occasion, though Nym and I seem to completely miss the centaur.

The monastery is a lovely place, and it’s nice to finally be able to sit down and pore over my research like I have been doing, but every now and then I get the feeling that I’m just spinning my wagon wheels, not really getting anything done at all. I tell myself that I’m making progress just by getting this scroll translated, but then another voice inside of me asks how I can be sure that this scroll has anything at all to do with what I’m seeking? For all I know, this scroll could be some Netherese Archwizard’s grocery list.

Actually, I know it isn’t a list, I’ve determined that it is a letter in fact (I’ve gotten that far at least), though an interesting shift in viewpoints occurs just a short ways into it, and some of the words are still entirely alien to me. What exactly is a Sipas?

I’ve been able to decipher some of the names, and I believe much of the words are directions. Where the directions lead, I do not know. I only hope the rest of the scroll will tell me.

I’m still making absolutely no progress whatsoever on the other text at the bottom of the scroll. It’s like no language I have ever seen before, and I’ve seen a great number of languages, even if I don’t exactly know them.

I saw myself in a mirror today and I looked so tired, maybe I’ve been working too hard on the scroll. Perhaps I should take some time off. There are still plenty of interesting books in the library. Maybe a week spent reading something else wouldn’t hurt. I’ve a feeling we’re not leaving here any time soon.

*21st of Eleasias, 1376 D.R.*
I did, indeed, decide to leave the scroll to sit for a week, as I had written in my last journal entry. The following day, I had ventured into the library to select another piece of reading, one not quite so time consuming as Elminster’s tomes. The last few times that I had been in the library, I had noticed that the robes of the library’s keepers were different from those of the monks here. I managed to find out why.

The keepers of the monastery’s library aren’t Ilmatari, they are followers of Deneir. Followers of the god of glyphs and wards are scattered throughout Faerun with few temples or churches of their own, so many tend libraries in this place or that. Interesting.

The book I selected was Half a Life: A Halfbreed’s Journeys among the Elves, written in 993 DR. by Hural Artseeker of Rawlinswood. It took me about a week, and while it was interesting, I don’t believe I absorbed it fully. Much of the accounting was written in Espruar, and I, unfortunately, do not know Espruar. Oh well.

It was a welcome diversion, and it made me wonder if mother wasn’t right about elves, to some degree. I remember what father said about them…"Arrogance without conviction?" was that it? No, I believe it was…"Even the most spineless of fools can be arrogant when not called upon to act." That sounds more like it. Father never did like elves, neither did mother for that matter, but that was for another reason altogether.

So tiring it was trying convince her that she was basing her hatred on something irrational, on a personal emotional bias, and then Amecia had to go and prove her right. Damn Amecia.

She partly redeemed herself by allowing mother and father to raise Ryes, though she hated that the money for his upbringing came out of her own personal allowance. Serves her right. Ryes deserves a better home than she would have given him.

I miss him, I miss all of them.
I want to go home...

*3rd of Eleint, 1376 DR.*
I haven’t written in a while, I’ve been so busy with the scroll again. All I’ve done for the past eleven days is wrack my brain over it, and I’m so tired of it all. It’s Eleint already, we’ve been at this monastery since early Kythorn. Summer has past us by while we’ve cooped ourselves up inside these thick walls. Autumn is now upon us, and still I see no promise of leaving here any time soon.

I understand that this is very important to Mattathias, but I think of all the time I’ve wasted being here, and it makes me want to cry. I could have made it all to Waterdeep in the time I’ve spent here. Well, maybe not Waterdeep, but Cormyr at least!

If I had kept up digging in Phlan, I might have found something by now. Maybe that hole where the Paladin’s Mount was could have been drained, and I could have excavated there... DAMMIT!

Tonight is a full moon, and I went outside to admire it. It reminded me of all those nights years ago, and I really wanted to pray. To ask that I decipher this scroll soon and that we can leave this place, but who do I ask for that What do I say? How do I do without sounding like I’m whining?

Argh! I just want to get OUT of here!!

I’m going to go outside of the monastery for a while, take a long walk, maybe it will clear my head, maybe it will keep my from just finding my horse and riding away from here forever.

*4th of Eleint, 1376 D.R.*
I took that walk, and it did clear my head. I went out a little before sunrise, and I got to watch as the sun rose. It looked so beautiful, the whole mountainside was dark and cold, but then, in a flash it became so radiant and white as the sun crested. The light was blinding for those first few moments, and I actually knelt down and greeted the sun, as I had everyday when I was child and father had bade us do.

It felt good to do that, it was very comforting. It was so much like being at home. I’m sure Horus is aware that I’m not that good a Mulhorandi, in so far as the religion goes, well, so far as liking his policies go, but I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to greet the sun every now and then.

The sun was so warm, and it made me feel so alive to see it rise out of the darkness like that. When I had finished my prayers, I pulled my uncle’s mizmar out of my cloak and played it as the sun climbed higher and higher into the sky, casting its light farther and farther.

I just sat there on a cold stone and played every song I knew until the sun was almost completely overhead, and I didn’t have the breath to play anymore. I didn’t have any water to sooth my dry throat, so I cupped the snow in my hand and drank of the chill water.

Refreshed, I commenced with my walk. I walked to where Nym and I had built our snow-elf a month earlier and found that another snow-elf had been built right beside it. It was better than our snow-elf. Whoever made it had gone through the trouble of actually sculpting it into a recognizably elf-like creature. It even had clothing etched into it, fine clothing. It was probably Mithras’s creation, though I didn’t see any evidence of the tall elf around.

I walked to the spot in the forest where we had had our snowball fight. The snow had long since reclaimed the place, you would never even have guessed someone had once been there. I continued on, making my way through the forest, breathing in the cold air and remembering why I had come in the first place. I didn’t venture far, not wanting to encounter a yeti or something big with a taste for human sorceresses.

Besides, every now and then I’d get the feeling that I was being watched. I had a feeling it was either a monk or Mithras, but you never know. He, she, or it never came out into the open, and I never asked it to, I tried to ignore it as best I could.

I ate some bread from the monastery’s kitchen, and stayed outside until the sun set. Being outside of the monastery helped me to remember why it was that I came here and solidified what it is that I need to do. I need to finish translating that scroll, and I need to do whatever it takes to find a way to finish this and set to rights what I’ve done. That, above anything else, is my purpose here, and that I what I must bend all of my energy towards making happen. Everything else is secondary.

When the sun set I played my mizmar again for Horus Re, and then I climbed those stairs again and returned to the monastery. I’ll begin anew with the scroll tomorrow morning. I’ll finish it soon, no more complaining, and no more stalling for time. I’ve wasted too much time already.

*17th of Eleint, 1376 D.R.*
Another full moon tonight. I’ve spent every day since the 4th poring over the scroll. It’s amazing how much progress I’ve made since that day outside. I believe the scroll to be a Netherese translation from Roushoum, the dialect of the long-lost Imaskari.

If my beliefs hold true, then likely the language at the bottom of the scroll itself is Roushoum. Whether those writings are the original language that the Lorass translation is derived from, or something completely different is still a mystery to me. Either way, I may never know what it says.

I don’t think there’s anyone in the realms who knows how to read Roushoum, and that’s including the Chosen of Mystra. Well, if father’s theories are correct, there’s one person who knows, but I’m not sure I want to go that route. If I have to, I’ll try, but...

I’ll go out into the courtyard and stare up at the moon tonight, it’ll be good to go outside again. I always did like Autumn. Saed always thought that Spring was the most romantic of the seasons, but I always believed that it was Autumn. There was always something about it that spoke of longing and love lost...

I can’t say that I ever enjoyed Winter though. It’s pretty enough, particularly in the Silver Marches, but I never really fell in love with it. Maybe it’s because my parents viewed the snow and cold as something to be avoided. It’s understandable, neither of them grew up in very cold places, so they made sure we didn’t have to either.

I wonder how Saed is faring...

*Highharvestide, 1376 D.R.*

Today is Highharvestide, and the monks aren’t celebrating in any traditional sense. Many of them are leaving tomorrow though. A few of the people here who aren’t monks are leaving tomorrow too, eager to make some headway on their journeys before the icy claw of Winter sets in. We won’t be among them, as Mattathias is still being initiated into the monastery.

To some degree, it feels already as if Winter has already set in. The days are growing shorter, the skies darker, and the air colder. It’s happening little by little. The monks say that by the end of Marpenoth it will feel as Winter does around the Moonshae region. It will get colder from then, they say, warming again around the month of Ches. By the gods, I hope we aren’t still here when Ches comes around. I don’t want to spend my 20th birthday here.

*5th of Marpenoth, 1376 D.R.*
We have now been at the Monastery of the Yellow Rose for five months, and still no end is in sight. I know that it is still Autumn, but, just as the monks had said only five days ago, it already feels like Winter.

The snow has ceased falling, but it isn’t melting either, and some of it has frozen into forbidding ice drifts. Only the hardiest and most determined of Ilmater’s followers would dare make the trek up here beyond this point, which means we’ll only be seeing monks coming and going from here on in.

It is nearing the date that started my whole quest to begin with, and I estimate that by the end of this month I may have the scroll fully translated. It is indeed a Lorass translation of a letter written in Roushoum in the time of the Imaskari empire. There are indeed directions, though some of the names still elude me. Some of them I do recognize, however.

I believe the letter was sent from somewhere around the Moonsea, I can’t be sure though as I still don’t have the details translated fully. I had no idea the Imaskari empire spanned such a distance. Even if this scroll doesn’t lead directly to what I need, it should no doubt be interesting to see just where it does lead. The Imaskari were an empire mighty in magic, just maybe I can find something worthwhile.

*17th of Marpenoth, 1376 D.R.*
My translation of the scroll is nearly complete, and I believe my grasp of Lorass is sufficient that I will be able to translate further writings should I encounter them. I believe it is the Roushoum words that are still eluding me.

Today was my mother’s birthday, and the date that I, the date that made all of this necessary. If I had only listened to Saed, if I hadn’t gone out of my way to defy him, and if I hadn’t been so horribly horribly wrong. None of this would ever have needed to happen…

I should have just swallowed my pride, my mother’s life was worth far much more than a stroke of my ego, or true acceptance from father. I know that’s the real reason I developed that spell in the first place. Unlike the others, I never made him proud, ever... I think.

I can’t blame him though, I knew better even as I was doing it. It was all my fault... all mine. I wonder if any of them can ever forgive me. I wonder if mother can forgive me, wherever her soul may be.

Often I’ve considered just going to visit her, but honestly I don’t know what I would do if I encountered her here. She wouldn’t even know she was my mother. How would she react if she ever found out? How would father react? It’s better that I stayed away. Better for all of us.

No word yet on Mattathias or Katar. Mithras is being grouchy as usual, when he decides to interact with Nym and myself. Nym has been spending his days practicing his acrobatics and tumbling in the monastery training halls. He seems to be really enjoying himself. I can understand, I haven’t seen many other places that he can practice without drawing the ire of someone.

Mother had a really great gymnasium, Nym would really like it. He’d be better at it than I was, certainly. I couldn’t even scale that 12 foot wall, some cat burglar I would have been! Still, I should be honored that she took the time to teach me.

I think I was the only one of us who received any of that type of instruction.
I remember how I used to think that Amecia was her favorite child, she spent the most time with Amecia, indulged Amecia the most. That’s why I was so shocked when she confided in me that she really thought I was the most like her.

I was nothing like her, I said. I could never be like she was, so beautiful, assured, calculating... I remember that she said that I was most like how she could have been, had she had the chance.

I’m certain she didn’t mean that she could have been a complete and utter arcane failure, which is what I ended up being. I only hope I can right things. I have to. If I don’t, then I truly am nothing to be proud of.

*30th of Marpenoth, 1376 D.R.*
Today is Raza’il’s birthday, though I’m not sure if I should celebrate it. Can someone have a birthday if they haven’t been born? I suppose not. Still, I shouldn’t forget, I already forgot Ghalib’s birthday back in Flamerule.

I wonder how Raza is faring? Is he still trying to tame the madness that is Unther for the favor of his Pharoah and god? I know that he is simply doing what a holy knight should do, but still, I hadn’t thought our family name had become so tarnished that the only way to revive it is to seek glory subjugating other people.

He never understood why I thought so little of his duty, he couldn’t understand why I hated what Mulhorand was doing. If by restoring blessed order to Unther and bringing the Untherites into the worship of the “true” pantheon means virtually enslaving that entire realm, then Mulhorand be damned!

I do worry for Raza though, if he continues on, then word of him will reach Thay, and then what will become of him? The bastard Red Wizards have already proven that if they can’t destroy mother or father, then they will certainly settle for murdering their children. To think of what they would do to Raza’il...

Maybe they’ve already done it, I don’t know. Hopefully Horus Re will protect the one who serves him so faithfully, even though he hasn’t protected so many others from the same fate. But enough of this line of thinking, it’s only making me depressed, and I need to stay focused.

My translation of the scroll is nearing completion. In fact, I should be done in the next day or two. When it is finished, I’ll scribe a copy of it into this journal, in case it should become separated from me. Well, off to bed, and sweet dream, if fortune smiles upon me.

*3rd of Uktar, 1376 D.R.*
Mattathias has finally completed his training! He was initiated into the Monastery of the Yellow Rose as a full-fledged monk. I have other good news too. I have finally finished with the scroll!

It is written as follows:

_Grand Seal of the Chever Lyceum
Variations Arcanum
Opus Enclave
Second of the Roushoum Tablets
Transcribed and Translated in 2672 by Ielo Jerland of the First Age​
For the inspection of High Planer Gharj Manaal from Lord Apprehender Sipas Kusis. I hope this correspondence finds you in high mind for renewal after the disaster that has befallen the Grand Planers. Thankfully, our research outpost has been able to find a renewable and easily accessible food supply the southern and eastern supply routes. Seems that our isolation has given us a reprieve from the eastern chaos.

I have sent a shipment of twenty quats to your outpost since our own supplies are plentiful. Along with that, I have sent the journals of Inango, 100 drams of diamond dust, 50 bars of silver, and Illeyana’s doll. I’m sure she has been sorely missed.

Be certain to be cautious when using native water supplies. We ourselves have come across several parasitic problems. It is likely due to the poisons that seep into the river from the northern mountains, though we have found the water from the Dragon Sea to be quite safe. Regardless, the silver should alleviate any water problems you might have.

Lastly, have you heard news from the Goldenblood Mountains outpost? I suspect they have none of the water issues we have has since the Great Glacier as at their doorstep. I plan to travel there within the year so that I might stand on the Mountain of the Eagle once more before we leave our past behind. Last I heard from them, Hilo’s research had moved along rapidly and he writes of a new way that might allow us to journey faster than any of us had expected. Though I fear it might not be soon enough if the last three outposts are to survive. So many of the others that fled into hiding are gone. It seems like only a matter of time...

Lord Apprehender Sipas Kusis​_
The rest of the scroll is unintelligible writing, presumably Roushoum.

I can only assume that the Opus Enclave that this letter is addressed from is on the Moonsea somewhere, and that the Goldenblood Mountains outpost must be somewhere near to here. I know that an enormous glacier used to cover this entire area at some point, but I don’t know precisely how long ago that was. A good place to start looking for the Goldenblood Mountains outpost would be to find this Mountain of the Eagle. Perhaps the monks here will know.

I am determined to find this location, but convincing the others to accompany me may prove a little tricky. We should be leaving soon, and I’m hoping that because we’ve been here for so long, the others will be hungry for a little adventure. Tomorrow I’m going to pitch this little excursion to them. With any luck, they won’t be too much against this.

*4th of Uktar, 1376 D.R.*
We’re leaving to go find the Goldenblood Mountains outpost tomorrow! We learned from a group of the monks that the Mountain of the Eagle lies near here, in the Glacier of the White Worm. They each claim that it’s a different amount of time away, so I’m not sure how long it will take us to get there.  Hopefully, it won’t be too long.

After going over my atlas, I’m certain that it will take at least a day, possibly two. We will be accompanied by one of the monks, a fellow named Dmitri, who has been there more than a few times. We will meet up with him tomorrow morning to begin our journey.

We’ve already gathered our supplies. It’s hard to contain my excitement! I hope we can find this outpost and that its still in good condition. If luck smiles down on me, it will be completely untouched. If not, maybe I will still be able to find something interesting. At the very least, maybe there will be a magic item worth enough for me to gain access to Candlekeep, or valuable enough for me to sell to fund some research, or trade for some time with a sage.

I’m going to need some wine just to get to sleep tonight! Actually, I wonder if they have some brandy...

*5th of Uktar, 1376 D.R.*
We started out this morning, just as planned. It is far colder than I thought it would be. It’s hard to believe that it’s still only Autumn! We began our journey early, with Dmitri leading the way down out of the monastery and into the mountains all around it. We headed west, thankfully descending the mountain the entire way.

Currently we are camped beneath an outcropping of thick mountain rock, huddled around our small fire and keeping a wary eye on the darkness. The creatures are more likely to find us with the fire going, but the chance of that happening is less than the chance of our freezing with no fire at all.

The others claim to have seen a large creature mining the rock, but I must have missed it. Nym says that it was large and blue and stood on two legs, and it scowled at us, watching us go by. I wonder what it was. That’s the only sighting I know of. The only thing that I’ve seen are rocks and snow.

This place still isn’t as dismal as Thar, however. I’ll never forget how wretched that place was. No, I imagine that the Earthspur Mountains may at least be pretty at some point in the year, I don’t think that could ever be said of Thar.

The others are deciding which watches to take, and Mithras is climbing onto the top of the outcropping. I’ve volunteered for the first watch, Mithras has taken second, and Mattathias has volunteered for third.

I hope we’ll be out of this whole region by Winter. Autumn is bad enough, I don’t relish the idea of weathering out a Winter on the Moonsea or in the Bloodstone lands. I can still remember this past Alturiak...

I suppose I should put this down and actually keep watch. Wouldn’t want anything creeping up on us. Funny how the Elves snicker at us humans not being able to see at night, but then they expect us to keep watch. Oh well. 

Maybe Mithras will fall off of the outcropping and land in the fire, or at least get a hot cinder down his pants. At the very least, some animal should bite him. That would teach him.

Actually, it probably wouldn’t, but it would at least be funny. Funnier than watching everybody else snooze. I wonder if Nym knows that he twitches in his sleep, or if Mattathias knows that he snores. I hope I don’t snore, it’s entirely unattractive.

Uncle Mirt snored, wow did he snore! Isis even snores a little, though she’d deny it. I tend to drool a little when I sleep, and that’s bad enough! When Grandma Lureene snored too, what was it that Saed said? "When Grandma Lureene snores it sounds like titans breaking wind in her mouth…?" Smelled like it too...

I suppose I shouldn’t speak too badly of her. She was nice enough, if a little addle-brained, besides, it’s bad luck to speak ill of the dead. We all made little jokes about her, but we did feel bad when she died. We weren’t surprised though, not with the life she led, the continued drinking and partying that she did didn’t help matters either.

I should know not to keep depressing myself like this. I’m going to put this journal away now and do my job. It’s bitterly cold, I think I’ll add some more of this scrub wood to the fire. Damn this stuff stinks...

*Below is an image Arravis made of the Imaskari scroll. If you look the top text is actually in english, just in a difficult to read font. Made translating it a real-world task *


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