30th day of Kythorn (parts 1 and 2):

Today was the day of the bard college graduation ceremony and grand tournament.  The five of us—Aeif had spent the night at the monastery—ventured forth toward the festivities in the city, finding the streets around the college and arena lined with venders and games. Before long, a game caught the eye of our number as we watched people try to blindly toss bags of flour into a basket. The price was 5 cp for 3 throws. Finnan played and won quite handily, as did Berien, though the prize for winning was not particularly impressive. Soon thereafter, we came across a hammer-and-bell game. As we approached, we watched a contestant fail miserably. Agnes, seemingly eager to flex her talents quickly took the hammer, despite the skepticism from the crowd and vendor that a woman might be victorious. Of course, I have had the honor of traveling with Agnes for nigh on a month now and knew better than to doubt; nay, rather I placed a wager of five gold pieces on her success and was satisfied to watch as she almost effortlessly nearly shattered the bell at the top of the game tower. Unfortunately, the individual with whom I made the wager decided to scurry off, but thanks to the keen eyes of my familiar, Nolwë, I quickly located him in the crowd, slinking and sniveling, reluctant to pay his debt, but not willing to protest too vehemently lest he further shame himself. 

Next we came across a cup-and-ball guessing game, where one is challenged to visually track which of three cups has a ball in it. I’ve seen other versions of similar games using seashells or playing cards. The game itself is typically a con, relying on the game worker’s sleight of hand to ensure that no matter how well the player tracks, they will be wrong in the end. However, I decided to give as good as I might get and used a cantrip of my own to even the odds. The carny noticed when I won, but would not make a scene lest the nature of his game be made public. He quietly suggested  I take my winnings and not return to his stall, and I obliged, not wanting to make a scene myself. 

Eventually, Finnan noted that his specially ordered lute case should be ready for pick up. Berien, Agnes, and I accompanied him, while Lyria declined the invitation and agreed to meet at the arena later for the tournament. Thus, we set out for Vesper’s. I asked Finnan if this person was a “fence” which he confirmed. I express some concern about the ethicality, and indeed the legality, of engaging in transactions with Vesper. Finnan noted that Vesper has extensive and powerful connections and this particular transaction was entirely legitimate and posed no risk to our freedom or morals. Agnes, unfamiliar with the concept, overheard my questions to Finnan asked me what a fence is, which I hesitated to explain lest her sense of justice be too heartily aroused. Still, I would not wish to deceive her; I assured her Finnan’s business here was safe, but noted that we should be careful with our dealings. 

As we wrapped up this bit of morning business, Finnan told us a little more about his lute, Rasanate, and how it belonged to his grandfather. He noted that Rasanate’s habit of “speaking” to him is actually a quite new experience. He knew of no legends of the lute’s sentience, and so far as he knew it had just been a fine heirloom instrument. Finnan is clearly very attached to this instrument, but I still worry about the influence of the entity that seems to reside within it. 

We made our way toward tournament grounds. Finnan and I would simply be spectators for the tournament of individual fighters and I was eager to see Agnes in action. Later, we all worked together in a group challenge, but I shall detail the singles’ tournament first. 

The tournament was drawn as a bracket, with a totality of eight fighters. A win would see the victor advance to the next round until only two remained and then those final two would contest each other to determine the champion. Reportedly, the matchups were randomized, so no one knew their first round match until right before they entered combat. 

Lyria’s name was the first called and she faced down a human warrior named Aslin, who was well-armored and wielding a warhammer. Lyria moved much faster than her opponent and Aslin barely touched her. Lyria easily won and managed to look bored with the challenge. Indeed she is formidable. 

The next match was between two humans. One—called Talin the Bold—bore armor and wielded a sword from which flames appeared to be emanating. I suspected him to be favored in the match, against the other individual who wore no armor and wielded a quarterstaff—a man called Phalin. I would be wholly wrong, however. No, Phalin avoided Talin’s strikes and masterfully used his fists, feet, and quarterstaff to quickly disable and dispatch Talin. The seneschal noted that Phalin was of “The Way of the Tangled Thorn” and I noted this for later research. 

The third match featured Berien facing down a beast of a man—I believe he was half-orc actually—named Brag. Unfortunately, Berien was entirely outmatched—or just didn’t employ the right strategy (which to my mind would have involved maintaining a maximum distance). Brag knocked Berien out very quickly using nothing but a crude looking club. His first strike appeared to concuss Berien who mindlessly returned to his feet, attempted to lunge with his rapier only to be struck again and knocked unconscious.

The final first round match was by far the most competitive as Agnes and Aeif were drawn against each other. My curiosity was truly piqued. Initially, Aeif’s attempts to strike Agnes were entirely futile and Agnes managed to press an advantage. Aeif, however, is much faster than Agnes and he changed approach after being struck, opting to keep distance and throw a strange looking object toward her. Initially, I suspected the object to be the result of some spell, but as the judges did not disqualify him, this was ruled out. Still, it was a most curious sight; the object flew around Agnes and then returned to Aeif’s hand. I was not certain what it was intended to do until he later used it more successfully, which I will document further on within this entry. Aeif’s speed made him hard to hit for Agnes, but when she did strike, she struck hard. There was one point in the fight during which it appeared that Aeif would succeed, but the scene flashed in my mind and I saw Aeif have a knockout blow parried away and lo, so it came to pass. Agnes countered and delivered the final blow, moving toward the second round of matches. Both fought rather well, but I hesitate to say that Aeif fought with bravery. 

In the second round, Lyria was drawn against Phalin and Agnes against Brag. Lyria seemed confident striding into the arena, but in the blink of an eye, Phalin was on the offensive. His first strike appeared to catch her entirely off guard and she barely moved before being struck again and again. Phalin indeed finished off Lyria even more quickly than Lyria herself had finished off Aslin. I was utterly amazed as, up to now, I had not seen Lyria vulnerable. This “Way of the Tangled Thorn” fascinates me; perhaps Aeif could learn something from their methods. 

Agnes too was defeated in the second round, but she did put up a worthy fight. The opponent, Brag, seemed just too fresh and unchallenged by his first round. Agnes had a much more challenging first round and when Brag was struck by Agnes he seemed able to fight through the pain that many others would have been felled under. 

In the final round, Phalin who had easily bested his first two opponents stood against Brag. Though Brag managed to get a measure of offense in early, he too fell victim to Phalin’s rapid, powerful strikes. Phalin achieved a knockout blow by planting his quarterstaff and vaulting himself into the air and delivering a spinning kick to the head of Brag. The crowd seemed conflicted for I don’t think they much cared for either contestant, but still there were cheers for Phalin’s prowess nonetheless. 

After the solo tournament concluded, the contestants for the group rounds gathered in the staging area. Clerics were on hand to patch up the wounds of all the participants. We were then given instructions for how the group rounds would operate. Three teams would compete over the course of three rounds. Each team would face the same type of monstrous enemy and any team that failed a round would be eliminated. Should more than one team beat all three rounds, the winnings would be shared. 

The two other groups gathered nearby. One group—the Talons—seemed well ordered and capable. Most were reserved, but one of their number, Balfour, was charismatic and introduced himself and his party. The second group consisted of 5 young men, each with a musical instrument. Finnan scoffed when he noticed them, and doubly so when they were introduced to the crowd as Passion Thunder. Apparently he was familiar with them already and was not a fan. There was an interesting shift in the audible range of the crowd as the cheers were much more high pitched than before; peering out I noticed a number of young women swooning. This ended up a short-lived cheer though, as this group drew first entry and was defeated by an ettin—a two-headed runt of a giant—quite quickly. Finnan burst into laughter and told us that they all attempted to inspire one another and no one thought to actually have weapons at the ready. 

The Talons, on the other hand, were efficient and quickly took down their opposing Ettin. We followed suit and made short work as well. I used my Spider Staff to conjure a web that entrapped the Ettin, staying to a backline with Finnan and Berien while Agnes, Lyria, and Aeif engaged up close. Lyria managed to deliver the final blow, as she loves to do, but we all played a role.

This strategy worked very well, and as we were drawn to compete first in the second round, we implemented it again in a trial against two trolls. The second round was obviously much more challenging, with twice as many targets, each arguably stronger than the Ettin had been. However, Finnan and I worked sensationally well together to control the flow of combat. Once again I conjured a web, and called out for our melee combatants to get out of the way so I could follow up with a fireball. Finnan used a bit of fey magic to empower everyone else to move exceptionally quickly and thus I was able to launch a fireball right between the trolls while Agnes, Lyria, and Aeif safely avoided the blast. However, as the fireball landed, igniting the trolls and the webbing, I saw a flash of panic-stricken horror come across Aeif’s countenance. You see, he had once again thrown that strange looking object from his fight with Agnes, but this time he had hit one of the trolls with it and it fell to the ground. I realized all too late that it would be in the path of my fireball and my heart sank as I realized 1) that item was the boomerang Aeif had been talking about for weeks and 2) I may have just accidentally destroyed it. It was with great relief that we saw the flames clear away around it and it still laid there as pristine as before. Panic passed, we dealt with the situation at hand. Lyria finished off one troll and Finnan carefully placed a crossbow bolt right through the eye of the other and the arrow carried on through its skull. 

The Talons too were successful against their trolls, and admittedly copied our own strategy, using webbing and fire. Imitation is said to be a most sincere form of flattery, but I must admit to feeling somewhat bitter that they were able to copy us quite so well. But for the third and final round, they would not be able to do the same, as they went first. 

As they entered the arena to face down their final monsters, a tremendous, screeching roar was heard coming from the opposing entranceway. Never have I heard anything like it, and I’m not sure that I care to again. The gates opened and out came two huge beasts that initially seemed like a form of dragon. However, their jaws were even larger than many dragons I’ve seen depicted, and they didn’t have the same skeletal frame one would expect. They had no wings, but they did have incredibly large and powerful rear legs and impossibly small front arms; I say arms, because these creatures were bipedal, only using their rear legs and their long tail for balance. No one we spoke with was able to tell us the name of this creature for certain, but the seneschal indicated he had hear something about a “Terrasaurex” but he seemed doubtful of his pronunciation. 

These terrible reptilian creatures tore through The Talons and I think the clerics on hand needed to use some powerful divine magic to heal them; one was lucky not to be severed in half as one of the creatures bit down on him and held him in his jaws during the fracas. Fear began to settle in and I thought through a potential plan with Finnan for our turn with the creatures. Thus far the webbing had worked well, but we feared the incredible strength of these creatures might not allow us to keep it webbed. Lyria noted she could try to lay zAX a thorny ambush while Finnan might try to distract them with an illusion. Of course, plans are one thing; execution is another. 

We took our strides into the arena and though I cannot speak for the others, an involuntary shiver went down my spine as the beasts charged out. It was quickly clear we would not be able to distract and trap, so I decided to test tensile limits of my webbing once more. The webbing landed and did indeed successfully slow them down and give the rest of the party a fighting chance. However, Lyria was unable to avoid the the jaws of one of monsters and we were left with a dilemma; I could still launch a fireball to hurt the terrasaurexes but it would likely hit Lyria too. With hardly anytime to react, Finnan gambled to get the monster to release Lyria and attempted to superheat her own armor to force a reflex drop, but unfortunately it did not work. I decided that the best chance for survival would be to continue with the plan to launch a fireball, and thus I did. I’m pretty certain this briefly knocked Lyria unconscious, but I’m convinced she would have died had I not done this. With the flames beginning to engulf it, Aeif, Agnes, and Berien focused on attacking it to free Lyria from its grasp. All did their part, but it was Agnes with her Lightbringer who managed to maneuver underneath and carve a large swathe through the underside of it, felling it. Lyria tumbled free, but we were all deeply concerned as she appeared lifeless. 

The other beast redoubled its efforts and sought to grasp Agnes. I screamed out as I saw the fearsome jaws clasp down on her. In a panic I used a mindspike spell, but though i’m sure I gave the beast a mighty headache, I could not force the release. Aeif wailed upon the beast and Finnan used his arcane talents to spark life to Lyria. Lyria recovered enough to reach for her bow and loose an arrow, but it was Berien who shined most in this moment as he carefully placed a shot that went into the beast’s neck and partially exited through to the other side. Blood spurted out and the mounds of muscle went limp. Berien indeed had saved the day. My mind was fogged over as many emotions tried to occupy my thoughtspace: anger, fear, excitement, elation. 

When the beast fell, the crowd roared a mighty roar, as defeating as the monsters we slew. Before I could take in what we had just managed though, Agnes came rushing toward me, golden hair flowing behind in the wind. In an instant she was embracing me and her lips met mine with an intensity matching the light of Lathander. I find myself struggling to believe that it truly happened, but the sense of ecstasy permeates my very soul. I do hope this is the start of something special between us. 

We collected ourselves and were rewarded with the prize of 1000 gold pieces—a smaller sum than I hoped to be honest. Lyria immediately began insisting that she receive a larger portion of the pot, but I refused her at this time, noting that we can discuss it later when the adrenaline dies down. Now was the time to get ready to observe the grand graduation ceremony.

Day 19

When we did follow up at the Alderleaf farm the next day, they had indeed returned and let Quelline Alderleaf, a kind halfling farmer, know they had been caught pilfering through our cart and apologized for their misdeeds. Hopefully, this is the last of the trouble they will cause, but some miscreants need many lessons.  Quelline affirmed that they had been forthright and followed through on the deal we struck and further she had us come in and share a meal with her and her charming little family. We were actually greeted at the front door by a young halfling boy and I could not resist but to prestidigitate a coin from behind his ear, as had been done to me when I was but a lad meeting my first mage. We proceeded to the town hall, if it can be called such, where I shared details of the last day and a half with fellow Lord’s Alliance representative Sildar Halwinter. Halwinter compensated our party with the promised gold coin reward for neutralizing the Cragmaw tribe threat. Coin is a funny thing, really. The masses make do with so little of it, and yet it is so easy to take for granted when one is used to living among nobility or tending the greatest library in the world.

  We did not tarry in town for long, as we felt the time was right for us to make use of Gundren’s map to Wave Echo Cave and the Forge of Spells. We set out and though the old mine was well off the beaten path, we found it a little while before nightfall. Berien, Aeif, and my Nolwë—with me peering through her eyes—scouted  the entrance before the rest went inside. We, sadly, quickly discovered the body of a deceased dwarf who we surmised to be one of Gundren Rockseeker’s brothers. We did our best to respect the body of the departed, but when exploring a lost mine that may be filled with myriad dangers, one also must take a pragmatic approach: we noted that despite his otherwise dirty clothes, his boots were in flawless condition, quickly leading me to believe they were imbued with magical properties. 

  This time, Finnan conducted his ritual for identifying just what sort of magic was present; I was keen to observe how his ritual was different from how I was instructed and indeed I was not disappointed. He strummed his lute and sang a playful ditty, but his words were almost imperceptibly laced with arcane trappings. Of course, I am familiar with bards and their rather particular methods of tapping into the weave—there is a bardic school within the Conclave of Silverymoon—but it is always interesting how naturally they work in magic in music as though they are one in the same for them. It comes so naturally for them in this way and yet I’ve hardly ever met a bard who could weave magic using the methods I and my fellow mages use. Alas, I digress. The boots were discovered to enable their wearer to maintain a brisk walking speed under heavy load and also to assist the wearer in leaping greater distances. Arguments could have been made for various members of our party to use them, but we settled on Berien being the right choice to take them. Though he does not tend to carry a particular burdensome load, increasing his ability to leap significant distances seemed a worthwhile boon. 

  The body was lying amongst a makeshift campsite with a few bedrolls and supplies. The campsite itself was set near a ledge formed by what appeared to be a sort of cave in in decades or possibly centuries gone by. The only way further into the cave that we could discern was to descend the wall of this collapsed section. We dropped a rope down and descended. I’m not terribly inclined to spend my time ascending and descending many ropes, so as I started to descend I thought I might indulge a modicum of vanity, let go of the rope and cast the misty step spell and apparated at the bottom of the open pit near the others. Alas, I am being deceptive; in truth my hands slipped on the rope that for some reason we did not knot and I used the spell to prevent injury. Nevertheless my colleagues were duly impressed by the “trick” I believe. It was after this that I realized we should have taken the time to make a more secure way to scale the pit wall, and later, I would suggest Aeif fashion our available rope into a ladder which he did admirably. 

  Although it was getting late, we did attempt to get our bearings so we would know our options for exploring the cave further in the morning. We noted that there were two tunneled out sections along the pit wall, on nearly opposite sides. We ventured through one, finding what seemed to have once been the main entrance. Obviously, it was immensely dark further in. I had to rely on Nolwë’s eyes to see that there were torches lining the tunnel. I lit the torch with a quick word and a snap, but much to our chagrin, a scourge of stirges descended upon us. We dispatched them in short order, but not before they had latched upon a couple of us, myself included. It was a most unpleasant sensation, when foul overgrown mosquitos attempted to dine on us. I did, however, find a certain thrill in riming one right off of Berien with a precise cantrip and then another off of myself. 

  After this bout, we took further note of our surroundings and decided we should retire for the night. We had no issues ascending back to the campsite, fortunately. We assigned shifts for keeping watch in pairs. Of course, the elves in the party could really just alternate shifts, since they don’t need true sleep, merely a trance, but as trust is still being built, I was glad to keep a shift.

Day 18 Part 2

As I worked on identifying the statue and discussed it with Aief and Berien, the others looked for more doorways and happened to find a draping canvas along one of the outer walls—a hidden entrance we had missed. I have some regrets we did not locate it before storming the castle, but as it stands, we did well.   We proceeded through to the East wing of the keep and entered what appeared to be a makeshift “throne room” occupied by a powerful Bugbear who seemed to be in charge, a trained wolf, a pair of hobgoblins, and a drow. Lyria, Aeif, Berien, and Agnes all rushed forward engaging the occupants in melee, while Finnan and I provided support from the entranceway. It would be fair to say that we quite handily--and stylishly, if I may say so--defeated them, but not without some disagreement amongst us regarding the plan. Noticing the drow in the room aroused our suspicions that something more sinister than expected could be afoot and most of us wanted to capture her alive to interrogate her. Lyria, in her bellicosity, however, was determined to end her life regardless of the wishes of the rest of us. Berien made an effort to impede her ability to do so, extending his foot to trip her when he noticed the bloodlust in her eyes as she charged her while she was otherwise engaged by Agnes; unfortunately, Lyria was able to evade his effort and plunged her sword into the drow for a lethal strike. We then stood aghast looking onward, disappointed both by Lyria’s disregard for our plan and that the body of the drow was changing into something more amorphous; indeed, we had been fighting not a drow, but rather a doppelgänger. What a doppelgänger was doing in league with this band of goblinoids, we do not yet know, and with it dead, our efforts to learn of its intentions have been severely hampered. After the combat, we were better able to observe our surroundings and perceived the body of a dwarf lying in one corner. We rushed to investigate and discovered him to be none other than Gundren Rockseeker, who had hired the others to escort supplies from Neverwinter to Phandalin and the same dwarf Sildar had informed us might have a lead on Wave Echo Cave. Gundren was quite feeble and could hardly tell us anything about his captors, but despite his obviously effete condition, Lyria was quickly at his throat making threats and demanding he prove himself not to be a threat. At this, the rest of us became further incensed with Lyria and intervened, and stood between her and Gundren and made an ultimatum that either she start working with us with respect to our mutual goals or she go her own way. Lyria seemed taken aback by our demand, asking if we really would kick her out of our band of adventurers. Finally, she seemed to understand and agreed to try to work more in unison with us going forward. After this, we investigated the room and found Gundren’s map to Wave Echo Cave which the bugbear apparently had confiscated. We then proceeded to explore the remainder of the dilapidated castle, encountering another small group of hobgoblins that had somehow missed the cacophony of combat in which we’d already been engaged. We dispatched them relatively quickly, and this time, I must say that Aeif demonstrated great prowess, running up one of the side walls and to the rear of the hobgoblin group and delivering a mighty blow. After this skirmish, as most of us were investigating the room, Berien decided to crack open a door and peak through—and oh did he see something. Berien closed the door as quickly as he opened it and then we watched with no small degree of horror as the door was obliterated behind him. Filling the frame of the doorway was a mountain of an owlbear which nearly deafened us with his outrage. Sensing our lives to be in danger, we felt we had to put it down, which Lyria did. Finally, the castle was seemed cleared and we swept through the remainder, in search of anything that might be of use to us. We did not find much else, except that I came across some finely crafted silver goods—a ceremonial dagger, a chalice, and a bowl—that could potentially be worth a fair amount of coin. We decided it was time to return to town and proceeded to find the cart we had stowed toward the trailhead. As we approached, we observed three hooligans near the cart and rushed to confront them. The others recognized one of them on sight, and exclaimed a name—Jarus—in exasperation. These men were foolhardy, and one let an arrow fly toward Aeif who reached out and seized it in mid-flight. I stepped forward telling them that any efforts they should make against us would be ill-fated, but they were an ignorant sort and did not quite comprehend what I meant. I then explained in simpler terms, nothing that if one of us can catch an arrow in mid-flight, we must be powerful and not to be trifled with. Agnes and I learned that Jarus had been a thorn in the side of the rest of the group and been given multiple opportunities to change the course of his life—even to the point that they had found him honorable employment with a local farmer. There was some debate over how to best deal with the brigands, but it was eventually decided that they could leave and return to the Alderleaf farm and when we reached town ourselves, we would check in to ensure they confessed their deeds to their employer. We decided to set up camp for the evening and thus ended the most dynamic day Agnes or I have experienced since setting out from Silverymoon.

Day 18 (Pt. 1): Or A Coincidence of Fates

Over the last few weeks, traveling with Agnes, we have shared some stories of our lives so far. I have sensed there is something more to Agnes than I’ve seen thus far, but I can tell she is just and true—a paladin to the core. Today, I bore witness to her splendor in battle, and truly she is a force with which to be reckoned, but more on that later.     

Our contact in Phandalin, Sildar Halwinter, pointed us toward a group of adventurers in search of one Cragmaw Castle. He stated they had rescued him recently and been effectively dealing with a troublesome gang called the Redbrands who had been harrassing the town. The castle itself had apparently been overrun with a goblin tribe working along with Redbrands. I was shocked to learn that the leader of the Red-brands was actually a traitor to the Lords' Alliance. Sildar filled me in about Gundren Rockseeker, a dwarf who had gone missing and might have a lead on Wave Echo Cave. The adventurers were presently trying to locate Gundren; it was feared he may be in mortal danger, if not murdered already.     

We set out this morning, good portents in mind, and found them without much difficulty. Nolwë aided our efforts to locate the adventurers admirably, though her hunger struck at an unfortunate moment—I thought she might help me listen in on their conversation, but a murine delicacy appeared and caused her to reveal herself quite conspicuously as my familiar. One of their number, a female elf was quick to draw her bow as soon as she saw us; these are not the safest lands, so I understand it somewhat, but if we are to partner, I must encourage her not to be too quick to provoke potentially powerful enemies—although a showdown between her and Agnes would have been some spectacle. Nevertheless, three of the four were cool headed enough to first use words over weapons.     

We introduced ourselves as representatives of the Lords’ Alliance, Abenthy Laphroaig from Silverymoon and Agnes Aberlour from Waterdeep, and then learned their names as well, as I shall detail momentarily.  I should make a notation that they hinted at several interesting encounters recently. I do not have many details yet, but I was especially interested in their encounters with a green dragon they claimed to slay and a red-cloaked wizard apparently practicing necromancy, whom they left alone. I sense there may yet be a confrontation with that necromancer, whom the party believed to be a Red Wizard of Thay. For the time being there was other business which needed attending. After several exchanges of wit, we came to an agreement to cooperate and set onward toward Cragmaw Castle, which turned out to be a makeshift outpost of goblins and hobgoblins in the employ of a nefarious individual known as the Black Spider, as Glasstaff also apparently had been.       

  I do not know if the aforementioned aggressive elf would agree, but the halfling named Finnan seemed to me to be their leader. At the very least, he led the way in promoting discourse betwixt us. Finnan is a bard, and though he did not communicate to me his schooling, I suspect he has a connection to the Weave through the Feywild. He spoke of “The Great Stories” and suggested a frontal assault on the keep—not because it offered a strategic advantage but because, as he put it “so many great stories involve marching right through the front door.” I found myself involuntarily placing my hand to my forehead at this and muttering a mild oath under my breath. Despite this, he was the one who suggested we put the tactical options to a vote and he made no efforts to overturn the fact that four out of the six of us wanted to enter the side door we located. I found it intriguing to watch him when the fighting began. Without a doubt his songs were inspiring, and I found myself vitalized and more fleet of foot than usual. One might think it unwise to start playing a lute mid-battle, but magic can be a funny thing. My proposal of a stealthy approach had already been thwarted by this point, so using every available resource seemed wise. Lest I paint a picture that he entered the fray with naught but a lute, let me state he also had skill with a rapier; however, his compatriots seemed surprised when he unsheathed it.     

Another elf, much more soft-spoken, was also in this party. He introduced himself as Aief. I did not recognize his name as being typically elvish and he must have noticed a quizzical expression on my countenance, as he then provided an addendum: his name comes from the dwarvish language. I asked how he came to have a dwarvish name, but indicated that was a tale for another time. I respected this and did not push further. I trust I shall learn soon enough. Aief struck me as one who has trained religiously in the martial arts, both unarmed and with blades. He bore a quarterstaff and scimitar and wielded them effectively. I did not sense the same malice as I did in the other elf though. He moved with both measured steps and grace. One might have wondered why we so readily joined with this band of adventurers, especially when one of their number greeted us with hostility. In truth, seeing Aief amongst them played no small role, for you see I received a portent before we set off. In my dreams,I had clearly seen Aief striking a down a grick, though of course within the dream I did not know his name. Once I actually met Aief, the very elf I saw as I slept, I knew destiny awaited. Indeed, as foretold, Aief delivered a fatal blow to a grick within the keep, after I weakened it. I anticipate we will be able to work well together.     

Berien was the third to introduce himself. Berien had several elven features, but as he stood next to two elves, it was clear he was also half-human. I imagine it to be most challenging to straddle two such dramatically different worlds. To hardly age as your human family and friends grow old must be a heavy burden. But that is compounded with maturing at a much more rapid pace than pure elves, certainly creating a restlessness that must be difficult to contain. I can see why many half-elves gravitate toward a career of adventuring. Where else can they turn after all? But I digress. Berien was a curiosity, and not merely for his race. No, he was remarkable for his unpredictability. He reminded me of a pirate, with how he moved about and brandished a rapier. Hopefully he is of stronger moral character than the pirates about whom I have read. I do suspect there is some redemptive quality within him. I also noticed he seemed to have a certain respect for the halfling. In the midst of the fighting, he was rendered unconscious and I suspect he very nearly died, but the bard was able to reach him before it was too late. Perhaps this has been a recurring theme in their own adventures, accounting for his respect. I did not bear witness to how he managed to get himself hurt. What I do know is that he had tried to scout a room and as soon he entered it, debris came crashing down blocking his return. He later came screaming through a different entrance, bloodied and with tattered clothing. Finnan helped him revitalize, and again he was off like a bolt from a ballista, promptly screaming again once out of my sight. When Finnan and I were able to reach him, he was downed and in mortal danger from multiple hobgoblins. We were able to fight them off while Finnan stabilized him. As an aside, I noticed he seemed to have a sword imbued with magical properties, but he did not actually use it, opting instead for his rapier. I found this most curious.     

My initial impression is that these four adventurers are quite capable, especially if their claims of slaying a green dragon are true, though I’m concerned about the impetuousness of the elven woman, Lyria. Ostensibly a ranger, she is fierce and indeed today she was indomitable, but she is unlike any ranger I’ve known—rather she reminds me of a barbarian on a warpath. She was irrationally celebratory when faced with opportunity for battle against the goblins and hobgoblins; I do suppose hobgoblins are infamous for their cruelty, especially toward elves, so it was not entirely unmerited that they receive the wrath of her war instruments. Still, I worry she will charge forward at the wrong time and put not only herself in unnecessary peril, but also the other members of the party who might not be so sturdy. I found that there was one time she acted particularly irresponsibly. While the rest of the party had agreed to try a stealthy approach, she brazenly approached an arrow slit—which, mind you, I had obfuscated with an illusion so as to mask our approach—and started blindly launching arrows into it. Somehow, this did not alert the goblins who seemed more concerned about a cruel manager of a hobgoblin who was barking orders at them. Once the fighting began in earnest, she was a frontline soldier, alternating between using her bow and using her sword, both to tremendous effect. If she can be trusted—and perhaps convinced to work more tactically—she may prove a very valuable ally. One item I did notice especially: she wore a belt I readily identified as an arcane artifact that I believe gives her preternatural strength. When time allows, I must ask her how she came across such a wondrous thing.     

As for Agnes, my travel companion of the past few weeks, she was like a spring sunrise after a long winter, piercing the veil of night. She gallantly put herself on the front line, shield in one hand, sword in the other. Once, she commanded one goblin to stop in its tracks, and it had no choice but to obey. Another time, as I had seen in another vision, she delivered a blow so thunderous that it would have made Talos envious. She was restless at times and looked to press ever forward, but she was never reckless. While we were making acquaintance with the others, I overheard Lyria jest about me having a bodyguard. Agnes is certainly a guardian, no doubt, but not just of me. No, she has a great destiny ahead of her. She will undoubtedly be a mighty bastion standing firm against the tide of evil.     

After we cleared the kitchen and multiple hobgoblin patrols, we were able to take several minutes to process our surroundings. Returning to the chamber in which the grick had attacked Aief, we recognized that it had been a sort of shrine in the past. Berien located a small golden statuette which I noticed as having magical properties. I called upon my arcanabula to perform a brief ritual to identify the magic while the others kept watch. Interestingly, the statuette was enchanted with the spell known as augury. One can imagine why it would catch my particular interest. The statue bore the form of a sun elf. It might be a random treasure hidden here by one of the goblins, or I suppose it could be a remnant from when certain gods were worshipped here—namely Lathander, god of dawn—as Berien seemed to suggest. When time allows, I’d like to do some more research. At first, only I, Aief, and Berien knew about finding it. We resolved to discuss it with Finnan and Agnes when possible, but agreed it might be best not to include Lyria just yet for fear that she might, in her impatience, waste its magic.    

 <to be continued>