Entry 3

Little to report. Our party happened upon a clutch of monstrous reptilian…things, while traveling by river, the largest of which all but consumed me. Then, we were accosted by a horde of bloodlusting monkey creatures in the forests. Through all my travels in the southern lands, I have never encountered such abominations. My patience for nature wears thin.

I have little time for thought. Time enough, however, to build perspective on the motley crue that I walk with now. Aedra, a noblewoman of some manner, is most visibly frustrated with our lack of cohesion. I might find her insufferable should she, by chance, point in my direction, but even then I feel for her in her desperation, for we are a cacophony of character unlike any before us. She keeps a keen watch over Yablo. I wonder what dealings she has with him. I feel as though there may come a time that necessitates an arbiter between Aedra’s sharp tongue and the party’s ruffled feathers, and I do pray that responsibility does not fall on me, for I am a woeful mediator.

Speaking of the devil himself, Yablo is a worrysome sort. I see no humanity under his many masks; either he lacks a living soul, or he is supremely adept at his craft. Having knowledge of his deceitful nature does us no good, for while he has lost the ability to take us by surprise, we remain vulnerable in our mutual reliance. Yablo seems the type not to gain or lose anything, whatever the current state of affairs. I am torn between our similar circumstances, and his self-serving ways. At least my pride will rest easy knowing that I am not seduced by his illusions.

Ejnarr is as she has always been, a handful. All manners of protection that I lay upon myself, I must double up upon her, whether it be a watchful eye or a quick arrow. Though I must confess, there is mettle in this little girl. If it were my guess, I would assume that she has not had any real tutelage in arcane forms – the kind that she is, I can easily fathom a young, bored aristocrat stealing a glance at works and manuscripts that her parents had set out of bounds. It is only so unfortunate that she fall into our hands now, untrained and immature. But, that is the hand we have been dealt, is it not?

Kraytol the minotaur, such a strange creature. Noble in spirit, capable in battle…compromised in matters of significant thought. He has, thus far, been instrumental in our survival, patching wounds with great care and dealing blows with awesome power, and for his presence I am ever grateful, but I remain particularly baffled at his naivete. I worry that he may grow obstinate in his dumbness, and sacrifice for the lesser good. The more I meditate on this, the more I sympathize with Aedra’s plight.

Solwyn, a diminutive Elven thing, is our spirit. Perhaps, even, a distraction from each other. She has not made her intentions and motivations particularly clear. Unlike myself, she had been recruited directly by Aedra, and still I do not know that woman’s reasoning for so specifically reaching out to us. Little does it seem to matter now, as I’m sure whatever plan she had so finely strung together is now in utter ruin. Solwyn busks for us, and gives us strength. Her company is well-received.

Davish, a halfling warrior type, I am still at a loss as to properly account for him in this writing, as he has not made himself especially visible – which is not to say that he has not been useful, far from it in fact. Every member of the group has contributed towards this march into hell in their own way. Davish is a grizzled fighter of a man, keen on battle. Perhaps he can take control of a scuffle when my bow fails to obey. Like Solwyn, I do not know his reasons for accompanying us. Maybe in time, it will be made clear.

I will recount the days’ events in a later entry. For now, we move.

Entry 3

Mindosia CursedLemon