There was a patrol around the caravan last night. They passed by every 5 minutes and the spell woke me up every single time. Fortunately it only lasted for TWO SOLID HOURS. I have not made friends so far today.
I keep thinking about what I did to the old gnome. Sure, his methods were nigh-inscrutable, and he had no respect for the citizenry, or humans, or really anything sentient above 3'6"; but if it wasn't for him, that murderer would still be on the loose. He taught me everything I know about locks, gears, and magic. And I sold him out, just like Krof the Swonker and Henny Bluefingers all those years ago. Is this law enforcement? Will this journal be used as evidence to convict someone else I know? Will I be required to rat out every friend I have at the drop of a hat?
Maybe it's just the company I used to keep. Maybe.
Day 157
Dreamed of the ghost woman again. I guess ol' Moana missed me. From what I can recall, the dreams used to occur close to that underground ritual grave site where her body is. If they're hitting me way out here now, then maybe there's more energy being pumped into that region than before. It's worth investigating later.
Criminals abound in the caravan today. A young girl approached me for help in finding the dire thief who stole her doll. After intensive review of the facts, scouring the crime scene for clues, and spotting her younger brother awkwardly trying to hide the doll between two sacks of grain, I reported my findings and was rewarded with the act of being ignored while she wailed on her sibling. Another job well done.
Finally got into Ismere, will seek the whereabouts of the others after rediscovering the joy of a real bed.
Day 158
Attempts to hit the dirt did not go exactly as planned. An old man in a bar stood up and saluted me. A woman asked me if I could find her missing son. The uniform really gets to people. It also makes normally chatty people go quiet, but I've learned to work around that (thank you Hat of Disguise).
Excluding one story of them flying up into the sky on the backs of winged donkeys, all signs point to their sudden lack of reappearance after they entered the druid grove. They may very well be dead, or trapped in a time hole, or eaten by trees. So the task became that of finding someone who could look into the state of the group without risking life or limb to do it. The best option? Magic. The best magical practitioners? Wizards. And there just so happened to be one in town. (Two, actually, but one of them sort of felt… wrong.)
The good news is, Tolliver the wizard can find my friends. The bad news is, he won't do it for less than 400 gold. The better news is, he has a job that requires my particular skills. About a week back, somebody sold him a big hefty chest; one that's laden with magical traps, dangers, and treasure, apparently. If I can open it, he'll cast the divination for free. If I can't, then I'm probably dead from the attempt. Still, it doesn't look too hard and it beats begging on the street.
Day 159
Any day you start by accidentally setting your employer ablaze is not likely to be a good day.
I worked out what magical function the goggles fulfill: eye protection. If it's not what they're meant to do, it is now. As my esteemed sciences teacher once said, "Having nothing between the eyeball and the universe is just inviting it to jab something sharp into it." Whether he meant the universe jabbing your eyes or the other way around was never actually clear, now that I think about it.
Ah yes, the chest. First there were the glyphs. While examining one on the back side of the chest, I set it off, lighting a nearby weapon rack on fire. Tolliver came in when he heard the ruckus, and triggered another glyph when he tried to put the flames out. Fortunately it was all extinguished before it could spread far, and he had some salve lying around for his burns. This was about the point I decided to move it outside.
After that were the dart traps, which kicked in after the last of the glyphs were
Next there was the acid trap, likely built to liquidate any assets inside if I slipped up on the locks. So I found a sturdy tree to suspend it under, broke out the ol' block and tackle, hoisted it up, dug a small ditch beneath it, and drilled a hole in the side. This, in retrospect, must have triggered the summoning of the gigantic badger. At first it was almost sort of friendly: it treed me fairly quickly, where it would shake the trunk once in a while. Then I shot it, and it got angry. Needless to say, I escaped alive; but the tree, two clotheslines, a fence, and a small cart died noble deaths at it's claws.
Finally, there were the locks. The locks did not go as smoothly as the rest.
At any rate the job was done, the treasure was bountiful, and the shop was mostly intact; and so Tolliver held up his end of the bargain and performed the ritual. He says they're alive and well on Emos Island, far off the coast of Point of Origin. Verifying the safety of the druid grove was not included in our deal; but since he's given me proof that entering it is not a death sentence, I'm sure I can check it out on my own.
…probably.
Day 160
Ye gods am I sore.
I panicked over nothing. First thing I see after I jump the fence into the grove (only one guard, another poor tactical move Mr. Chuck Sane-People-Into-Asylums) is Miranda at the ready to kill me with trees. She said she doesn't know of an Emos Island, but she knows of the area that the wizard described. However, without knowing exactly which island it is, a teleport to the wrong one could leave me stranded. But, she can (and did) send me back to Point of Origin where I can work it out from there. She was even nice enough to send the horse along.
After discreetly checking said horse in at the stables, I made my way to the docks and found a boat that stops in the region of the island on its way to Stonekeep (?! Well, technically they're not accepting trade from them…). The captain hasn't heard of Emos Island either, but he's willing to wait a day or so at their first port of call while I ask around about it. All for the low price of 100 gold, the last of my money. The ship leaves tomorrow at sunrise. It better be worth it.
Day 161
Dreamed of the ghost, again. There may be some kind of curse at work on me, I'll have to remember to consult a priest about it.
The boat is, well, a boat. Laden with crates of rubyred beets, fishing supplies, a bored crew, and a drunken old man known only as "Sad Jack." I do not normally enjoy travelling by boat; none of this rallies me to feel otherwise.
The crew don't know anything about Emos Island, which is strange. You'd think there would be somebody on board with knowledge of all those little islandlets or what have you.
EMOS = SOME. I am seeking some island.
No wonder nobody heard of it. Gods damn it, I am an idiot. That wizard sent me off on a dead turkey hunt and is probably laughing his hat off at me. Now I'm en route for an enemy keep and I can't afford a return trip home. Hells' bell, I can't afford a return trip to my cot. Damn it all.
Day 163
Religion and You says that "visions from outside your chosen deific-based praise-sources are Their way of being a useful meta-moralistic guide to what they omni-perceive to be your personal etho-concerns." My vision last night disproves this, specifically the bit about being 'useful.'
So… somewhere in the world is Alcander's immortal soul in an oversized earring. My task, as I understand it, is to team up with Fflam, a half-elf woman, and a small green barricade in an effort to free the soul from its place of imprisonment, which is inside a laboratory inside a cliff. No specific cliff, just a sandy one. Another sound reason to worship St. Cuthbert: he doesn't fuck with you like this. If I ever come across a Temple of Heracles, I'm going to beat their high priest with a map.
Bah, like I'm one to talk about maps.
Day 164
Thank you St. Cuthbert in all your infinite glory. I found them! They were practically waiting for me at the dock!
Mind you, they're still jerks. I've been away for over three weeks, and their first question to me is about the ghost woman. Oh I'm fine, thanks for asking, I've just been force-marched through sewers, assaulted by giant animals, and tasked with the impossible by a pantsless god, that's all. Only three people are left from the original group, and they've managed to find someone thicker in the head than Alcander. They've also accumulated another dwarf and two half-elves. At least the gnome and her damnable "Ballad of Tupper's Ghostfucking" isn't with us anymore. Of course, that just means she's out spreading the song around…
Ahh, it's good to be back.
Day 165
Another Moana dream. Maybe the others are right, maybe I have some repressed undead fetish. But how do you confirm something like this, outside of discreet deals with a necromancer and lots of soap? Is there a spell to discern it? Maybe I'm just blowing it out of proportion. Bah.
Also, the new dwarf has reportedly been feeding sharks to other sharks, and has felt so guilty about this that he requested the forgiveness of a sun god. I don't even know.
The half-ork made a sculpture of a dog out of beets. Just beets. It's surprisingly realistic, given the medium. I'll be damned if I eat it, though.
Day 169
Gods damn it this is getting to be too regular for my tastes.
We arrived at Stonekeep at last. Everyone except Grungar (the half-ork) has gone into town for supplies. Apparently it was a long and grueling three weeks for them as well. Also they're giving money to an enemy fortress, but hey. As for Grungar, he's been going on about how amazing 'Dan' is and how they're the best of friends. Apparently, Dan is a small child in a 'cold town.' Dan is also a fellow stuck in a marble somewhere whom he has to free, and also… a man wearing a loincloth that appears in his dreams and tells him what to do. I don't think I like the half-ork anymore.
Day 170
And we get right back on a boat. We're heading out to Oohmaya to retrieve our horses, and because a nexus of insidious evil is probably not the best place to use as a hangout. Kris, the wizard, was kind enough to foot my boat fare. At least this boat doesn't have that Jack bastard aboard. Ye gods, that man would not stop complaining.
Day 173
I don't know why, and I don't care anymore. I just want it to stop.
Day 175
Oohmaya! Still as ice-locked and depressing as ever, but now with less greenery. Likely the result of another spell meant to drive more business to Stonekeep. Tomorrow we ride forth to Ismere, presumably to ask Miranda if she can send us
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