Kythorn 16th – 28th, 1492 DR
Kythorn 16th, 1492 DR – On the Road
Will I ever reach this cursed coast? I feel as if I have been traveling for aeons. I understand not the pleasure that some take from leaving their homelands behind and ‘starting fresh’. I long for nights spent in quiet study and days spent under my Master’s tutelage. Kazka will pay for his part in turning my life upside down. Alas, lamenting does naught for my current situation. I find the rest available to me upon the road to be uncomfortable at best, and sometimes I would rather walk nude into a hornets nest than sleep. Surely my fall from grace is not so apparent as when sleeping on a bedroll with a blanket beneath a pouring sky. I regret never learning the finer arts of ‘travel’ prior to my departure. I find that I would give a less favored body part for a warm inn, a cozy bed, and hot bath. Azuth – if indeed you look fondly upon those who whisper prayers, let this journey end soon. If not for my ability to clean myself each night I may have perished on the road for the simple act of being filthy. I must to rest if I am to survive another day on this accursed dirt path, to call it a road is far too kind.
Kythorn 17th, 1492 DR -Somewhere in the Woods
Gundren is a boisterous, raucous, drunken, inordinately wealthy *dwarf*. Fate is having a jest at me. I wonder if the seer knew more than she told, or if she kept the details to herself out of amusement. It is folly that this ‘wizards tower’ doesn’t grow it’s own components. Honestly, having to harvest materials is one matter, but to travel half a day to a *forest* and *locate* the plants as well is inefficient and ..and..uncivil! Headmaster Verititus tasked me with locating and bringing back Hagfinger and Rainbow Mushrooms. Five days he says it takes his acolytes. It’s no wonder with how easy some of the research is. Master Jahk would have fits. Once again I am out in the elements without a tent. I am starting to detest this land.
Kythorn 18th, 1492 DR – Somewhere in the Woods
I managed to collect half of the materials today, I should be done by tomorrow and back in Neverwinter at the end of the day. Five days. Perhaps for some novitiate. Prissy is rather as annoyed by the surroundings as I am. Soon we shall be back in a warm bed with a bath available.
Kythorn 19th, 1492 DR – On the road near Thundertree
I met a druid today. An older man. He…rescued me…from some plant creatures. Without his aid I would most definitely be dead. Are the tales of Druids just as full of half-truths as other stories from my people? Time will tell. I find that I like the elder, he was a bit doddering, but seemed…kind. I am not used to kindness from my elders, most especially those with magical talents. I have collected the last of the materials and will be back in Neverwinter tomorrow evening. Prissy didn’t survive the encounter with the plants, so what little coin I have saved up will need to be spent in re-summoning her. I can already see her scowl. I bet some fish will get me back in her good graces though.
Kythorn 20th, 1492 DR – Neverwinter
I dropped off the components, bought the supplies, re-summoned Prissy – who as anticipated was not amused. Fish did indeed buy her good graces though. I head out in the morning for Phandelin. Three more absurd days on the road. Ugh.
Kythorn 21st-23rd, 1492 DR – On the road and Arrival in Phandelin
I arrived soaked, freezing, and exhausted. Prissy was slightly less damp than I, and just as annoyed by it. The bath is OUTSIDE. What backwater imbeciles. Gundren lacks the proper decency to avoid getting himself kidnapped I learned, and so in order to succeed at my tasks, and get *paid* for my time I shall need to make introductions to his group of hirelings in the morning. Apparently they are looking for him. I shudder to think what kind of adventurers they are. I think I might rather go without rather than travel with a party of dwarves. Azuth bless me let them not be dwarves.
Kythorn 24th, 1492 DR – Dealing with Glasstaff
I find myself contemplating the aptitude of this group if I were to strangle the bird in his sleep. Oh, that’s right. I have not expounded upon the avian as of yet. Allow me to record the events of this frustratingly horrible day.
The first part of the day went exceedingly well actually. We infiltrated a lair of some ruffians of some kind that are causing a fuss in Phandelin. I care not, except there was coin to be had for it. The group is remarkably useful as meat shields, the Half-Orc a testament to her people in providing a suitably distracting target while I maintain a safe distance. There were humans and bugbears in the employ of a Wizard, known only as ‘Glasstaff’, a ridiculous moniker if you ask me. There’s really no accounting for taste. We dispatched most of his minions, but the rest of the group was in no condition to take on a wizard. So of course we had to rest and recover.
I was fairly certain the entertaining rat was his familiar, but there was nothing we could really do about his escape at the time, so there was no need to bring it up. And of course he escaped – but not the city. Which was perfectly fine. It meant he would have to face us once he left his little hidey hole. And that is where everything went from acceptable to maddening.
An avian was hired by Gundren to *spy* on us. Damnable dwarves. I should have known better than to trust a xeno to keep watch, but even Dag and Sildar seemed to trust him. And so he was left to watch over the inn where the wizard was holed up. And of course – he bungled the whole affair. He just…LET HIM WALK OUT. And he didn’t bother to wake any of us, choosing instead to fly off into the woods, in the dark, when he couldn’t even see. He will not be on watch alone again. Ever. Prissy can have as much fish, cream, and cookies as she wishes so long as the bird is not left in charge of any decisions.
Kythorn 25th, 1492 DR – FUBAR
I cannot even begin to expound upon the absolute misery of today. Even recalling the events enough to write them down makes me want to burn something until all that remains is ash. Then perhaps use acid to melt the ash into nothingness. The idiocy…I just. Master said that events should be recorded. I will be as brief as possible to save my own sanity;
- The Goblin; Droop, slew a warhorse, cut it’s head off, and fell asleep drunk.
- Mercy; the Half-orc, attempted to hide the evidence by shoving as much as possible into the forge at the inn we are at. Destroying it beyond use.
- The forge-master and the horse’s owner of course found out.
- I was forced to trade the only valuable possessions I had in order to keep the authorities from being sent for, or getting into a fight. Along with the majority of our little group’s funds. Everyone is basically copperless at this point.
- There will be no. more. additions. to this group. I swear I will slit their throats in their sleep if we add any more.
Unless they’re Wizards…
Kythorn 26th, 1492 DR – Arriving in Neverwinter
Undead. Stinking, decaying, gluttonous Undead. They seem to have infested the road east of Neverwinter, and more importantly, our campsite. Curse and be damned whatever hellspawn necromancer called the grotesque things from their graves. And worse – the entire group has seen me stutter like am imbecile in their presence. Whatever small amount of respect I may have garnered is probably gone at this point.
I have no idea what to make of the avian at the moment. He gifted me a *magical* ring. An unheard of gift in my homeland, unless one is courting, or wants something from the recipient. Is he courting? Or does he want something? And is the half-orc shaych? She gave me a flower and called me pretty.
But…they all checked on me. Asked after my well-being. It was… nice – to have people that seemed to care. Could these people actually become friends? Were they loyal? Or will they turn on me as Kozka did? I suppose only time will tell.
I did manage to acquire the necessary components in Neverwinter. At least that went well.
Kythorn 27th, 1492 DR – Arriving in Thundertree
The bird really needs a brain. I am at least half convinced he doesn’t have one. Or it is really small. The rabbit as well seems to suffer from an inordinate amount of stupidity. I warned all of them about the tower. I advised them to leave it alone. Then they walked up the stairs one by one to be taken out by a dragon. It may be time to actually choose a leader and enforce some kind of ranking system. Else half this group may be dead before we ever find Gundren.
I wonder if the extra monies would be split amongst the rest of us? Most likely not – dwarves are known to be skinflints.
Worse, this crumbling necropolis we have found ourselves in is overrun with zombies and twig blights. I have my doubts the druid is even here, but not the way that the others do. I have seen his magic. If he has not slain all these monsters it is for a reason, not because he has been slain himself. I also feel that he is wise enough not to tangle with the dragon unless necessary. No. He is probably somewhere else at the moment saving another wayward apprentice from their own gathering folly’s. I will *not* be telling the group that tale. They already find me cowardly enough as it is.
Continuation…..
Reidoth is indeed here, we located him. At the quaint cottage I wanted to stay warm and dry in. Really – I should be listened to more often than I am. He is tricksy though. Perhaps not all the stories about druids are propaganda. He wants us to relocate a green dragon in exchange for the location of Cragmaw Castle. I do not relish the task. If I thought we had any hope of defeating it I would just set the tower ablaze and relocate it forcibly, I really do wish for more arcanists. I would likely accept even a necromancer at this juncture just for some intelligent conversation. I doubt however we would survive such an action. I’ve spoken with Prissy about being my messenger. She isn’t thrilled at the idea, but is willing to assist me. At least she’s immune to it’s breath weapon. The druid is making a scroll for me so that the dragon can speak to her if it so chooses. Now I just need to locate some kind of *gift* for the sky tyrant to smooth over our earlier trespass and determine where in this godforsaken land I’m supposed to relocate it to. One option is to send it to the watchtower near the well. That would solve whatever undead issue is there most likely. Secondarily; Netheril towers seem like a nice draw for the dragon. But then if I want to explore the location at a later date I have to get the dragon’s permission. An obnoxious prospect at best, and deadly at worst. I wonder if the dragon knows the location of the Castle? Dag wishes to go looking for the lagomorph. None of them can be trusted to keep themselves alive so I might as well go.
Even More Continuation;
This damned cat is going to get me eaten. I should have known better than to let my familiar go and negotiate with the Dragon. Human pet indeed! It’s not that she didn’t get the negotiation done, she just didn’t do it as I directed. Translating everything I say into cat speak. Azuth save me from the translations of Tressym. I advised Dag we need to leave *immediately* once we have the location of the Castle. There is no way to know how well the Dragon will take finding out the supposed tower is infested with undead. I doubt it will go well. I fully expect the great beast to find us on our travels at some point soon. My only desire is that perhaps we have a little more combat experience before that happens.
Kythorn 28th, 1492 DR – A Night In Neverwinter
The sheer amount of money that Mercy has cost me gives me a migraine. A potion of FLYING…all that information, and gold, and… I need stress relief. I need a level of relaxation that I can’t even begin to imagine. No amount of studying spells is going to help, and I can’t imagine that there is a place for me to just destroy things. Alcohol and sexual release seem my most likely options. Of course – getting inebriated with this group is likely to get me killed. But…perhaps it’s time to explore the more pleasurable sides of being a woman. I doubt Dag is one for casual dalliances, but Sildar maybe… They don’t seem to have pleasure slaves here, or bath slaves for that matter. Any slaves to be completely honest. It’s…odd. I am so used to certain things, bathing myself is not the same as being washed, and while relaxing it doesn’t soothe me the way being bathed used to. Perhaps I can convince Sildar to take a bath with me? I wonder if he has ever been bathed by someone else? Would he return the favor? I am miserable at anything but threats and lectures. Prissy is probably going to find this amusing. Whatever gods watch over idiot mages, take pity on me.