Gabe3e

Kalcryx is in very good spirits this morning, though I hardly know how. I suppose, with his resources and connections, the loss of his leg is but a temporary inconvenience. Jaran and I have spent much of the day in manufacturing a prosthetic for him, so that he might move about with at least some independence. It took some time to devise it and it now that it is done, I see many ways which could have been more efficient and clever, but I dare say it is very good. It fits him well and snugly, and it is in its way quite beautiful, since Jaran put such effort and art into its carving.

Bad tidings… It seems all is not well in these parts, despite the sincerest wishes of an ignorant girl.

We met upon the road today a party of men, fell-looking, Banites, in fact, or at least those using the mark of Bane for official purposes. Their leader claimed to be Lord Ordoth, the new lord of these lands (nothing substantial was said of Lord Olin’s fate, but certainly it was very grim), and he demanded from us each 100 pieces of gold to travel through his lands. We paid it, somewhat grudgingly, and learned then with our receipt that they were in league with the followers of Bane, but my companions did move to attack them.

Ordoth encouraged us along our path, saying something most disturbing about towns in need of purification, many diseases in these parts needing curing, and it was clear he was taunting us, daring us to defy his thinly veiled cruelty. And still my companions did not move to attack them.

We moved down the road apace as they commanded and stopped a moment to confer with eachother… Kalcryx and G’Kar seemed interested in making all haste to complete our task in Weatherford, and Jaran, confused, as I was, and appalled with them, cried out “They’re Banites!” then moved as if to cast a spell.

There was a cry from our opponants, and a long battle ensued… the followers of Ordoth, many of them, had upon their persons many curatives, and were not so easy to force down. In the end, my companions succeeded against them, but at the cost of Kalcryx’s leg. He is grim, but stalwart and stoic and does not seem to be in much pain at present.

What has happened to Lord Olin? What has happened in these lands? Merciful Ilmater, watch over us and guide our hands.

Ach! It has been so very long since last I travelled so, I had become too cozy in my snug little beds in Velen and on the Bard’s Lament! The ground is hard and cold and by morning my fingers and toes, even my hipbones and shoulders were numb. I, without thought, nearly complained, but the sight of Jaran’s grim face reminded me of the much colder climes they had suffered through, and I caught myself in time.

We are not far from Weatherford… I hope all is well with them in Weatherford. In truth, I hope all is well in all the towns and cities we have visited these past few months, most especially, if I may be so selfish, in Grimclaw.

Ah! But in my heart I am not so grim! I cannot wait to see Mr. Smith’s face when we return with the Lifebringer!

We have arrived in Port Kir today. The change in seasons has not improved the foul stink of this place over much, but at least we shall not be holed up here in the docks like the last time.

We have spent much time in discussing our next course of action and it is decided that once we reach Port Kir, we shall settle our business, send the boat, minus two followers of Kalcryx’s, back to Velen, then set out immediately to Weatherford. After Weatherford, we are to Mosstone. I am not looking forward to facing Port Kir again, and even less am I interested in the evil in Mosstone, even if it is but a tenth of what it was rumoured to be.

A thousand thanks to the ever gracious Lady Tymora, for she has been most kind to us!

The one concern dogging my mind since we set out is how, through what power of divination, are we to find a single dragon in this near featureless expanse of waves? But, happy day, the dragon has found us instead!

Leaving Donovan to mind the ship, we, protected from suffocation by magic, descended into a world so wondrous strange I could never have imagined it… feathery plants (or were they animals?) dotted the sandy floor and fish swam about every where, darting away from us as we moved. We entered a craggy cave and met with an elf-like people, they were almost like elves mated with frogs, but beautiful, astonishingly beautiful, unearthly (well, of course unearthly!) creatures with flowing locks… And, like all true elves I have yet met, they were quite haughty and refused to speak with us, but merely pointed further into the cave.

We travelled in the direction indicated then came upon an upward-leading stair, and following it we soon found ourselves in an open cavern, and enormous cavern with fresh air, a large, bronze colored dragon, and more glittering treasure than I would have thought existed in all of Faerun.

Kalcryx gave to her the large black pearl, the one recovered from the evil temple that was nearly the end of them, and then Haranulokxcis just… ate it. She took it into her mouth and chewed it and munched it and crunched it and seemed to roll it round her tongue as if evaluating its every sensation. And finally she swallowed it, pronouncing it a bit stale.

Kalcryx and she then had a discussion of some length on the merits and proper storage of pearls, and then with so little fuss, she gave us the Lifebringer and we returned to the ship!

How fabulous! How marvellous! Sir Kenrik and all the people of Weatherford shall be very pleased!

A ha! I think I have found the root of our troubles. Young Jon had brought aboard with him some preserved meat that was not so well preserved, I think. He shared it with Angus and Farid, and what very little is left I have disposed of, so that is the end of this illness, I hope.

Jon has recovered fully and returned to work yesterday, but now young Angus Calfbelly and Farid from Calimsham, his bunkmates, are ill with the same symptoms. Farid is quiet, undemanding, but Angus is not so pleasant a patient and grumbles and curses much. I rather imagine this is like to tending an ailing dwarf.

I am disturbed, for I do not know what is causing this illness, and I fear that it shall spread throughout the crew

Jon is somewhat better today. He has been able to keep down two meals of thin porridge and broth and is looking much less waxy and flushed. He is more energetic as well, a bit too energetic perhaps, for he seemed very keen to have me sit near him when there was really no need for such a thing, and even dared to ask if he could rest his head in my lap, impertinant scamp. He is most usually such a well-mannered young man, especially for a sailor, and to his credit, once his head was in my lap, he asked for nothing else. Perhaps, after all, he just wanted to be comforted in his illness. I can’t say I blame him, in any case, and I did not begrudge showing him that little bit of tenderness. I actually rather enjoyed being… enjoyed, I suppose

The crew is on poor rations today as I have spent most of my time at the side of Redbacked Jon. He has fallen ill with something most unpleasant, and when he is not sleeping he is almost constantly vomiting, poor man. Thank goodness for Jaran’s decanter… I know not what I would do if fresh clean water weren’t so easy to come by.