Kildare begins a new log during his time at sea, few of the writings survive but this one has been restored for your viewing. The note from Ms. Leipzig has not survived the ravishes of the elements.
Three weeks at sea, we make our first land fall for fresh water at a small, little known island free of any national claims and kept secret by the various seaman who visit it for several reasons. It’s too small to fortify or defend, and it is really more an atoll than an island, it’s pure water spring and abundant fish, unique life that abounds here and soft sandy stretch of sand on the inside of the horseshoe shaped section of the island. We take on water and the three captains take a meal together on the beach. During our break my brother finally reveals the meaning of the poem, he says that it was a poem I had penned to him in a letter meant to convey that everything was well, despite the somber tone of the text. It was concealed in the manner that it was to make sure I knew it was from my brother, the same way I had taught him to conceal messages so long ago. A simple enough explanation but I can’t recall ever writing anything remotely poetic; perhaps I borrowed it from a shipmate?
As we broke from our meal Nastia slipped a note into my pocket – I would not have mentioned it or even noticed except that my dear wife had noted it and after we were back aboard Voyager, she decided to pull it from my pocket and read it aloud to me. The noted explained, in sparse detail that Ms. Leipzig had reason to believe my brother to be quite mad and asked for me to come up with some excuse for her to join me aboard Voyager for the next leg of our journey. I know my brother to be quite mad indeed and thought little of it, I planned then to reassure my friend that she was simply attracted to that kind of fellow it seemed, and she should not worry so much. Still her judgment and council are wise so I mull over her note now. My wife was disappointed not to see any secret affections or longing expressed, I assured her as best I know how that there would never be such a declaration from any woman. Probably not even my own wife.
I have ample free time aboard Voyager, the 1st mate was the master and commander prior to my arrival and so I let him handle the day to day chores, he knows the men and the vessel. This allows me to conduct some research and so I will, if she likes, extend an invite to my apprentice to join me. My wife will not join me in my laboratory and fears my cat statuette as well as many of my books and tools. You’d think I had a candelabrum made of human skulls and bones in my office. I think too she had discerned the secret bond between me and my cat and she has gone to considerable length to keep him at bay, wearing some warding charm against him, which of course he has just the other day stolen and I believe eaten.
Monday, November 7, 2011
First Journal Concludes
This is the first time the navigator eludes to an heir arriving soon, it has been suggested that his bride was his apprentice and this authenticated document hasn't been able to put specualtion in that direction to rest, later documents never manage to put the idea of a trist between Kildare and his apprentice to rest though his bride is discussed as a wholy separate person, at odds even with Ms. Leipzig who is considered by scholars to be his first true apprentice.
And so I conclude this journal as it had begun, in my tiny cabin awaiting the tide shift so we can put to sea. There is for once no urgent matter before me, no cries for attention to some crucial matter from my friends or the state. Only the gentle lapping of the sea against the sides of Voyager, the creek of lines under load, and the foot falls of sailors on deck securing supplies for the journey. Naturally I make use of this time to reflect on the past few months’ activities that have brought me to this point while enjoying some rare pipe leaf brought by my brother from the Urnst highland.
I have decided to relocate to the coast, full time and to only retain an office at the Tower built for the defense of Kaska and the road along the frontier. The incursion that I feared would rekindle the hateful wars seems to have stalled indefinitely, the Thunderbloods having rolled back some enemy forces with vigor. Kaska to be sure has benefitted greatly from the traffic, mostly to the north from Haven Hill and points beyond, to the Ironhelm area where enemy activity continues to be reported. Hopefully the lack of returning traffic past my study window is not due to combat losses. My invitation to artisans and craftsmen to place their business on the increasingly busy path has seen a great expansion in the services available to Kaska, and enriched the town fathers while providing me a simple means by which to ensure the Prince receives his annual taxes without taxing my own income.
A new druid has arrived and has ensured us that the spring which feeds the Keep can be maintained quite easily; however she has expressed a number of troubling opinions about the arrangement of the orchards. While expensive and complex, I’ve decided to defer completely to her judgments about horticultural and agricultural matters. She has taken on two apprentices in Kaska and made fork grove her home where she instructs them. I try not to bother her too much, she is very forceful and I’ve had enough forceful strong willed women this summer to last a lifetime. Food production and variety have been increased and the fungus that plagued my own apple trees has been eradicated so I must thank her for that even if I dislike the cross breeding she insists on to prevent future outbreaks; I dislike the tart flesh of the hybrid fruit though she assures me I will prefer it baked in pastry. Again, I decided it best not to argue.
The women in my life continue to take increasing control. My former apprentice of course has helped to drive off another woman, a refugee with designs on my fortune, as expected but my own wife has proven quite impossible to contain. It is in no small part due to her urging in the form of thrown flatware, that I agreed to travel with my brother to the Thorillian on his diplomatic mission. And so my first heir is due shortly, hopefully not before our arrival at her family’s home along our path. I think I have managed a balance between them where their own rivalry over my various interests and attention intersect in such a manner as to preclude any focus on me – my bride is hopelessly jealous of Ms. Leipzig though less violently so than at their first meeting. And Ms. Leipzig is spending most of her time in the company of my handsome elder brother Talbot and so my wife treats her with increasingly cool civility worried she might plot with Talbot to steal my inheritance or something. It’s all quite annoying really, if not for the child on the way, I’d be alone or perhaps enjoying a short cruise aboard Escape with some dear friends.
The refugees have all been resettled and provided nicely for so they will survive the winter, including Tamara who is also serving as my personal archivist to my delight, she is patient, skilled and respectful of my holdings. I wish I could do more for them; in part that is the purpose of this mission -treasure. Several have settled at Kaska, and many in Gryax. Only a few opted to remain in Haven hill which bore little resemblance I have been told, to their original homes. Kaska’s people have been very welcoming and hospitable and more closely resembles many of their original settlements, and Gryax more so for obvious reasons. Two of the refugees have written me petitioning to be apprenticed. I have interviewed both of them and determined that while they are capable they haven’t enough foundational knowledge to begin the training. I set before them a simple task: spend a year under Cromwell’s care, at their own expense, with all their spare time in study. Cromwell is not a professional wizard trainer, but he knows how to open and prepare a mind certainly – and he probably knows more about wizardry than I am allowed to say I suspect.
On that subject I am happy to report the Council of Nobles has relented in opposing my position and title, for now. I think they have warmed to the idea of having a friendly wizard at their disposal with so few available in the principality and our kind being able to so quickly turn the tide of any battle, campaign or war. They likely have dispatched spies into my home, and I welcome them, to report on my activities as at least one noble has loudly declared he believes me to be an agent of T Mak and no ally of the dwur. I protested of course, citing my families own proud Keoish roots, my father having retired from the Navy after losing his foot, and my grandfather who perished in battle on the bridge of his own ship defending a young nobles barge from attack, a young noble who would then go on to become queen and mother of old Skotti himself. Most of the council was unaware of my ties to this land or my service to the crown in the Navy and after my name was recently cleared in the Tempest mutiny, I suspect even that loud mouth will come around and accept me as one of their most devoted defenders.
I have just received a wedding gift from Le Toux, it’s late and I had not expected one at all. A fine scarlet coat, with matching hat he insists in a note will be all the rage next season, with a dare to bravely be the first to sport it out in town. The buttons and braids are far less flamboyant than I had come to expect on a Le Toux selection, very tasteful and elegant antiqued pewter that compliments the scarlet nicely. Many pockets are included and so I will switch out of last season’s blue and gold though I am not quite sold on the hat – lost at sea I’m afraid. There is a purse with some jewels he had been saving and a bottle of special reserve single malt he says is for the baby and a pearl necklace for the wife. It’s quite stunning and clearly not something my ruffian bride would normally choose and so I will insist she wear it prominently and always, never revealing the humorous spirit in which it is given.
My brother has signaled just now to set the sea and anchor detail and so we are about to get underway. I close this journal on that happy thought, and with this one; Talbot has been able to confirm that father yet lives, and is safely away from his cell. I chose to believe he is correct and fully expect to see father upon our return trip which will include a stop in to Hardby. He has yet to explain the meaning of the secret poem in his letter but I expect that will come in due time.
And so I conclude this journal as it had begun, in my tiny cabin awaiting the tide shift so we can put to sea. There is for once no urgent matter before me, no cries for attention to some crucial matter from my friends or the state. Only the gentle lapping of the sea against the sides of Voyager, the creek of lines under load, and the foot falls of sailors on deck securing supplies for the journey. Naturally I make use of this time to reflect on the past few months’ activities that have brought me to this point while enjoying some rare pipe leaf brought by my brother from the Urnst highland.
I have decided to relocate to the coast, full time and to only retain an office at the Tower built for the defense of Kaska and the road along the frontier. The incursion that I feared would rekindle the hateful wars seems to have stalled indefinitely, the Thunderbloods having rolled back some enemy forces with vigor. Kaska to be sure has benefitted greatly from the traffic, mostly to the north from Haven Hill and points beyond, to the Ironhelm area where enemy activity continues to be reported. Hopefully the lack of returning traffic past my study window is not due to combat losses. My invitation to artisans and craftsmen to place their business on the increasingly busy path has seen a great expansion in the services available to Kaska, and enriched the town fathers while providing me a simple means by which to ensure the Prince receives his annual taxes without taxing my own income.
A new druid has arrived and has ensured us that the spring which feeds the Keep can be maintained quite easily; however she has expressed a number of troubling opinions about the arrangement of the orchards. While expensive and complex, I’ve decided to defer completely to her judgments about horticultural and agricultural matters. She has taken on two apprentices in Kaska and made fork grove her home where she instructs them. I try not to bother her too much, she is very forceful and I’ve had enough forceful strong willed women this summer to last a lifetime. Food production and variety have been increased and the fungus that plagued my own apple trees has been eradicated so I must thank her for that even if I dislike the cross breeding she insists on to prevent future outbreaks; I dislike the tart flesh of the hybrid fruit though she assures me I will prefer it baked in pastry. Again, I decided it best not to argue.
The women in my life continue to take increasing control. My former apprentice of course has helped to drive off another woman, a refugee with designs on my fortune, as expected but my own wife has proven quite impossible to contain. It is in no small part due to her urging in the form of thrown flatware, that I agreed to travel with my brother to the Thorillian on his diplomatic mission. And so my first heir is due shortly, hopefully not before our arrival at her family’s home along our path. I think I have managed a balance between them where their own rivalry over my various interests and attention intersect in such a manner as to preclude any focus on me – my bride is hopelessly jealous of Ms. Leipzig though less violently so than at their first meeting. And Ms. Leipzig is spending most of her time in the company of my handsome elder brother Talbot and so my wife treats her with increasingly cool civility worried she might plot with Talbot to steal my inheritance or something. It’s all quite annoying really, if not for the child on the way, I’d be alone or perhaps enjoying a short cruise aboard Escape with some dear friends.
The refugees have all been resettled and provided nicely for so they will survive the winter, including Tamara who is also serving as my personal archivist to my delight, she is patient, skilled and respectful of my holdings. I wish I could do more for them; in part that is the purpose of this mission -treasure. Several have settled at Kaska, and many in Gryax. Only a few opted to remain in Haven hill which bore little resemblance I have been told, to their original homes. Kaska’s people have been very welcoming and hospitable and more closely resembles many of their original settlements, and Gryax more so for obvious reasons. Two of the refugees have written me petitioning to be apprenticed. I have interviewed both of them and determined that while they are capable they haven’t enough foundational knowledge to begin the training. I set before them a simple task: spend a year under Cromwell’s care, at their own expense, with all their spare time in study. Cromwell is not a professional wizard trainer, but he knows how to open and prepare a mind certainly – and he probably knows more about wizardry than I am allowed to say I suspect.
On that subject I am happy to report the Council of Nobles has relented in opposing my position and title, for now. I think they have warmed to the idea of having a friendly wizard at their disposal with so few available in the principality and our kind being able to so quickly turn the tide of any battle, campaign or war. They likely have dispatched spies into my home, and I welcome them, to report on my activities as at least one noble has loudly declared he believes me to be an agent of T Mak and no ally of the dwur. I protested of course, citing my families own proud Keoish roots, my father having retired from the Navy after losing his foot, and my grandfather who perished in battle on the bridge of his own ship defending a young nobles barge from attack, a young noble who would then go on to become queen and mother of old Skotti himself. Most of the council was unaware of my ties to this land or my service to the crown in the Navy and after my name was recently cleared in the Tempest mutiny, I suspect even that loud mouth will come around and accept me as one of their most devoted defenders.
I have just received a wedding gift from Le Toux, it’s late and I had not expected one at all. A fine scarlet coat, with matching hat he insists in a note will be all the rage next season, with a dare to bravely be the first to sport it out in town. The buttons and braids are far less flamboyant than I had come to expect on a Le Toux selection, very tasteful and elegant antiqued pewter that compliments the scarlet nicely. Many pockets are included and so I will switch out of last season’s blue and gold though I am not quite sold on the hat – lost at sea I’m afraid. There is a purse with some jewels he had been saving and a bottle of special reserve single malt he says is for the baby and a pearl necklace for the wife. It’s quite stunning and clearly not something my ruffian bride would normally choose and so I will insist she wear it prominently and always, never revealing the humorous spirit in which it is given.
My brother has signaled just now to set the sea and anchor detail and so we are about to get underway. I close this journal on that happy thought, and with this one; Talbot has been able to confirm that father yet lives, and is safely away from his cell. I chose to believe he is correct and fully expect to see father upon our return trip which will include a stop in to Hardby. He has yet to explain the meaning of the secret poem in his letter but I expect that will come in due time.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Harvest Festival
There has been some question as to the veracity of this journal entry, it appears almost completely isolated from the collection of letters referenced and had been found in a private collection far removed from the provinces but it is featured for the first time in this collection for the benefit of researchers who might wish to debate it. If it is real, it shows a growing affection towards Nastia. One of the key reasons this letter is questioned is that the navigator's first heir is born soon after and there is no mention of an expectant mother to be, or the coming child, something historians agree the navigator would not have been able to resist writing about. This is one of the primary reasons the letter has been questioned, if it is real then it casts doubts on the claims of his kin to his fortune and lands, though there are other reasons a student of his writings would find to question its authenticity.
This year’s harvest festival arrived far too soon I had felt. There were so many things I wished to accomplish but had not been able to achieve this year. Curiously the enemy was quiet, the thrust I had expected had not come, and the Prince launched no great counter-offensive. The nobles bicker, and though I have attended only two gatherings, I have been kept abreast of developments by my thunderblood allies in the council. This year it seems the monsters of the pom were content to lick their wounds or too busy perhaps fending off Drazil's brethren who have waged successful harassment and infiltration campaigns against them. My own home remains unfinished, habitable and cozy but quite unfinished.
If not for the sweet companionship of Ms Leipzig I would be quite dour this week. She has seen to it that my new butler Dalton, newly acquired from her own staff, has been acquainted with the local markets and so he has been able to prepare a weak of feasts fit for a king of the thunderbloods, and so I an rejuvenated and quite happy despite my lack of production and the tiring summer labors we have endured.
Tonight I was enjoying a bit of fun with Nastia when she asked me why I kept an eye patch in my war kit. I teased her that I had once lost my eye in battle and was forced to sprout a new one. One of the thunderbloods who was in the feast hall and had lost his eye in battle then challenged me to show him how I had done this. I convinced him to go through the most ridiculous process of balancing a salt cube on his nose while standing on one foot and blowing into his thumb. I chanted over him and Nastia mouthed the words trying to pick up the incantation then, as I had expected the dwarf fell over, unconscious. The room erupted in laughter and poor Nastia realized that she too had been the butt of a joke. She slapped me of course and demanded the real story.
Once we were certain our one eyed dwur friend was alright, I told the hall why most pirates carry an eye patch in their kit. Of course this reminded me of the findings I had in researching werelight. I decided to finish that work this winter, and asked Nastia to remind me about that, she agreed if only I would not ask her to test the eye patch explanation. I relented of course, and asked Dalton to have one sized for my dear lady friend. The next evening, I was pleased to present her with her own appropriately decorated, blue silk and silver lace eye patch with a trio of tiny pearls studs. Churchill caught her in the stairwell trying to test it, and without the benefit of depth perception she enjoyed mixed results judging from Churchill’s sense of amusement.
Later I caught up with her again, as I counted out coins lost in a wager to Cade who I suspect cheated me yet again, I’ll catch him one day. Nastia had asked about a stack of letters beside me. Most I told her were routine matters, receipts for work done on the keep shell (which is now complete) and suggested plan revisions for the internal spaces resulting from the burgeoning village inside the shell.
There was one letter in particular she was curious about, one with particularly heavy leather wrapping. It was from my brother Talbot, it was cryptically brief “I’m setting sail to Gryax to see you in a fortnight, expect me to be no more than a moon behind this letter” and it hardly seemed worth the trouble to send she asked to inspect it accusing me of being overly crafty and having influenced her unduly. She held the paper to moon light and fire and found indeed my brother was hiding another message with the ink of a lime. I marveled at her clever intuition and let her read the contents. The content of the hidden message shed little light on the matter; it was a poem only that itself might hold some additional meaning. Nastia thought it might be a part of a spell, or a riddle and I dared her to solve it, she disappeared into her quarters taking a bottle of wine and a bowl of fruit with her.
I found another letter I had not opened, one that had arrived only a few days ago, sent by guild courier. It seems my insurance claim for my tools lost two years ago aboard Tempest had finally been paid, and the guild was holding 200 gold coins in trust for me to obtain new tools. I had to laugh, I was just at the guild a week ago and now I would have to travel again to claim the cash, which I needed desperately. I could send an agent but the road is dangerous now, several recently used monsters camps have been found and missing person reports are on the rise. I would have to make the trip myself. Even better, my name had been officially cleared of any wrong doing by the admiralty and for the first time, I was addressed by the Uleki court in written correspondence as Sir Redding. I read on, and learned a Tempest passenger had be found alive and appeared before the court to make a claim against the shipping company and its mutinous crew. The passenger’s identity was not noted but I decided to rush off first thing in the morning in hopes of thanking him for his testimony.
The other events of the summer that should be noted include the loss of dear Sam, who was a frequent sailing companion without him I might have become a land lubber long ago. When old friends are lost, new ones might appear. In this instance I have found another Cuthbert priest, this one a woman named Evelyn who is quite lovely, and the miscreant Igraine whose perfume lingers in some of my kit, as I suspect she planned in order to drive Nastia to madness. It would be a lie to say that I was not amused when I see her suddenly alert searching for her nemesis after fetching an item from my haversack. Le Toux’s grim work and detached lack of empathy might be driving a wedge between us, I haven’t spent enough time with working with him this year and what I was able to do I fear disappointed him. Gallon and I have been drawn closer however; at least as I am able to better engage in dialectic with him on matters of faith and conscience. I think he holds out hope I will see the error of my ways not realizing that error, is a part of my way, which I cannot hope or care to explain to him. I like him just as he is.
Tomorrow then I will depart to the coast once more, leaving Dalton in charge which has displeased Cade enough that he has said he might leave, despite coming no further along on our joint crusade to repair his ear. I think he’s beginning to accept that that will simply never happen and the appearance of daring do and dashing bravado the near miss provides him. The tale has been worth more than one free drink, and I wish him well of course, if he would only limit himself to what he alone can pilfer when he leaves.
This year’s harvest festival arrived far too soon I had felt. There were so many things I wished to accomplish but had not been able to achieve this year. Curiously the enemy was quiet, the thrust I had expected had not come, and the Prince launched no great counter-offensive. The nobles bicker, and though I have attended only two gatherings, I have been kept abreast of developments by my thunderblood allies in the council. This year it seems the monsters of the pom were content to lick their wounds or too busy perhaps fending off Drazil's brethren who have waged successful harassment and infiltration campaigns against them. My own home remains unfinished, habitable and cozy but quite unfinished.
If not for the sweet companionship of Ms Leipzig I would be quite dour this week. She has seen to it that my new butler Dalton, newly acquired from her own staff, has been acquainted with the local markets and so he has been able to prepare a weak of feasts fit for a king of the thunderbloods, and so I an rejuvenated and quite happy despite my lack of production and the tiring summer labors we have endured.
Tonight I was enjoying a bit of fun with Nastia when she asked me why I kept an eye patch in my war kit. I teased her that I had once lost my eye in battle and was forced to sprout a new one. One of the thunderbloods who was in the feast hall and had lost his eye in battle then challenged me to show him how I had done this. I convinced him to go through the most ridiculous process of balancing a salt cube on his nose while standing on one foot and blowing into his thumb. I chanted over him and Nastia mouthed the words trying to pick up the incantation then, as I had expected the dwarf fell over, unconscious. The room erupted in laughter and poor Nastia realized that she too had been the butt of a joke. She slapped me of course and demanded the real story.
Once we were certain our one eyed dwur friend was alright, I told the hall why most pirates carry an eye patch in their kit. Of course this reminded me of the findings I had in researching werelight. I decided to finish that work this winter, and asked Nastia to remind me about that, she agreed if only I would not ask her to test the eye patch explanation. I relented of course, and asked Dalton to have one sized for my dear lady friend. The next evening, I was pleased to present her with her own appropriately decorated, blue silk and silver lace eye patch with a trio of tiny pearls studs. Churchill caught her in the stairwell trying to test it, and without the benefit of depth perception she enjoyed mixed results judging from Churchill’s sense of amusement.
Later I caught up with her again, as I counted out coins lost in a wager to Cade who I suspect cheated me yet again, I’ll catch him one day. Nastia had asked about a stack of letters beside me. Most I told her were routine matters, receipts for work done on the keep shell (which is now complete) and suggested plan revisions for the internal spaces resulting from the burgeoning village inside the shell.
There was one letter in particular she was curious about, one with particularly heavy leather wrapping. It was from my brother Talbot, it was cryptically brief “I’m setting sail to Gryax to see you in a fortnight, expect me to be no more than a moon behind this letter” and it hardly seemed worth the trouble to send she asked to inspect it accusing me of being overly crafty and having influenced her unduly. She held the paper to moon light and fire and found indeed my brother was hiding another message with the ink of a lime. I marveled at her clever intuition and let her read the contents. The content of the hidden message shed little light on the matter; it was a poem only that itself might hold some additional meaning. Nastia thought it might be a part of a spell, or a riddle and I dared her to solve it, she disappeared into her quarters taking a bottle of wine and a bowl of fruit with her.
I found another letter I had not opened, one that had arrived only a few days ago, sent by guild courier. It seems my insurance claim for my tools lost two years ago aboard Tempest had finally been paid, and the guild was holding 200 gold coins in trust for me to obtain new tools. I had to laugh, I was just at the guild a week ago and now I would have to travel again to claim the cash, which I needed desperately. I could send an agent but the road is dangerous now, several recently used monsters camps have been found and missing person reports are on the rise. I would have to make the trip myself. Even better, my name had been officially cleared of any wrong doing by the admiralty and for the first time, I was addressed by the Uleki court in written correspondence as Sir Redding. I read on, and learned a Tempest passenger had be found alive and appeared before the court to make a claim against the shipping company and its mutinous crew. The passenger’s identity was not noted but I decided to rush off first thing in the morning in hopes of thanking him for his testimony.
The other events of the summer that should be noted include the loss of dear Sam, who was a frequent sailing companion without him I might have become a land lubber long ago. When old friends are lost, new ones might appear. In this instance I have found another Cuthbert priest, this one a woman named Evelyn who is quite lovely, and the miscreant Igraine whose perfume lingers in some of my kit, as I suspect she planned in order to drive Nastia to madness. It would be a lie to say that I was not amused when I see her suddenly alert searching for her nemesis after fetching an item from my haversack. Le Toux’s grim work and detached lack of empathy might be driving a wedge between us, I haven’t spent enough time with working with him this year and what I was able to do I fear disappointed him. Gallon and I have been drawn closer however; at least as I am able to better engage in dialectic with him on matters of faith and conscience. I think he holds out hope I will see the error of my ways not realizing that error, is a part of my way, which I cannot hope or care to explain to him. I like him just as he is.
Tomorrow then I will depart to the coast once more, leaving Dalton in charge which has displeased Cade enough that he has said he might leave, despite coming no further along on our joint crusade to repair his ear. I think he’s beginning to accept that that will simply never happen and the appearance of daring do and dashing bravado the near miss provides him. The tale has been worth more than one free drink, and I wish him well of course, if he would only limit himself to what he alone can pilfer when he leaves.
Monday, October 24, 2011
A rare letter to Perry
There is a conspicuous absence of correspondence and writings by the navigator during the remainder of the summer and early fall until this letter to Kildare’s priest. The letter is almost sortid and gossipy, possibly explaining his later run in with the rogue Igraine.
Honorable Brother Perry,
I wish first to apologize for departing without much detail and for taking Gallon from your mission to attend me on this summer’s expedition. Regrettably we were unsuccessful on many fronts, and I do hope you have fared better. I am again away from Havenhill on the morrow, and have missed you again. I hope you will trust that I have not forgotten my pledge to assist you in restoring the chapel we found ruined during last year’s incursion. It is amazing to me to think that it has already been a year passed, and another winter is drawing near –where has the time gone?
As I had said, I am traveling again, this time with a small group of the refugees [presumed to be from Ironhelm, Prinzfeld or Oakenburg] who wish to resettle in the capitol. Amongst them is a particularly curious young lady who apparently believes I have forgotten her. Her name is Igraine la fey, be wary of her if she should cross your path. I am not one given to gossip but in this case the consequences of mistaking this beauty for an ally could be grave. She is quite fetching, with a bright golden tresses and brilliant eyes that reflect a hint of sadness. She is of slight build with a peculiar identifying mark; her olven heritage has given her slender and sharp ears but they point downward, and the tips turn inward close to her head making them difficult to notice. She was a necromancy student at the Bar Harbor academy during my brief enrollment there. She was implicated in the disappearance of another student and was known to have seduced an instructor which eventually led to his own dismissal. She continued on at the school only briefly after that and then vanished into the underworld of the south district.
I cannot say how she came to be amongst the group of refugees but I know that she is shunned by more than a few of them. She is precisely the callous, cynical, and calculating woman that gives so many a bad names; she is of a type I can’t quite name or explain but that I cannot tolerate.
Today she has presented herself asking to join the venture to the capitol but I suspect she may return to Havenhill seeking to curry favor of Cromwell or other gentlemen known for susceptibility to the charms of an alluring young woman that might show them interest and a hint of lusty titillation. She might travel between the two cities carrying on illicit activities and you should be aware that she could harm your parishioners. I am sure she will not harm me, for she is aware of who and what I am, and while she believes I am clueless about her, I know at worst she will pilfer a few components or coins, of which I have few.
When I arrive at Gryax, Nastia will assuredly defend her territory and drive the would-be seductress away; possibly back towards you. Do not tolerate her wickedness; drive her from your sight she will not be turned to the narrow path of the wise fool.
Best wishes for all successes dear friend,
The Magoi Sir Kildare Redding
Honorable Brother Perry,
I wish first to apologize for departing without much detail and for taking Gallon from your mission to attend me on this summer’s expedition. Regrettably we were unsuccessful on many fronts, and I do hope you have fared better. I am again away from Havenhill on the morrow, and have missed you again. I hope you will trust that I have not forgotten my pledge to assist you in restoring the chapel we found ruined during last year’s incursion. It is amazing to me to think that it has already been a year passed, and another winter is drawing near –where has the time gone?
As I had said, I am traveling again, this time with a small group of the refugees [presumed to be from Ironhelm, Prinzfeld or Oakenburg] who wish to resettle in the capitol. Amongst them is a particularly curious young lady who apparently believes I have forgotten her. Her name is Igraine la fey, be wary of her if she should cross your path. I am not one given to gossip but in this case the consequences of mistaking this beauty for an ally could be grave. She is quite fetching, with a bright golden tresses and brilliant eyes that reflect a hint of sadness. She is of slight build with a peculiar identifying mark; her olven heritage has given her slender and sharp ears but they point downward, and the tips turn inward close to her head making them difficult to notice. She was a necromancy student at the Bar Harbor academy during my brief enrollment there. She was implicated in the disappearance of another student and was known to have seduced an instructor which eventually led to his own dismissal. She continued on at the school only briefly after that and then vanished into the underworld of the south district.
I cannot say how she came to be amongst the group of refugees but I know that she is shunned by more than a few of them. She is precisely the callous, cynical, and calculating woman that gives so many a bad names; she is of a type I can’t quite name or explain but that I cannot tolerate.
Today she has presented herself asking to join the venture to the capitol but I suspect she may return to Havenhill seeking to curry favor of Cromwell or other gentlemen known for susceptibility to the charms of an alluring young woman that might show them interest and a hint of lusty titillation. She might travel between the two cities carrying on illicit activities and you should be aware that she could harm your parishioners. I am sure she will not harm me, for she is aware of who and what I am, and while she believes I am clueless about her, I know at worst she will pilfer a few components or coins, of which I have few.
When I arrive at Gryax, Nastia will assuredly defend her territory and drive the would-be seductress away; possibly back towards you. Do not tolerate her wickedness; drive her from your sight she will not be turned to the narrow path of the wise fool.
Best wishes for all successes dear friend,
The Magoi Sir Kildare Redding
Friday, March 25, 2011
Second Log Compilations
In the second compilation of logs from the Navigator’s time aboard Escape, there is a great deal of damage owing perhaps to salt water exposure. What can be culled from the logs is a deep suspicion he harbors towards the Escapes crew, and wizard in particular but oddly not for its Captain. The Navigator alludes to a will he left with the captain and some other letters as well. Much of the information is unintelligible and what we do have is from a later entry summarized upon completion of his time aboard Escape en route to Bar Harbor.
Captain’s Log [Undated]
Once again I find myself in command of a punt, albeit the most luxurious and well constructed one I’ve ever sailed, and I am for a change not alone on this journey. I have bid my comrades farewell and invited only a young wizard [believed to his now graduated apprentice Miss Leipzig perhaps] to join me as I seek to locate my father to correct reports of my loss at sea. I have left the Escape as she returns to Gryax, being two weeks closer to Hard Bay here than there. Two weeks looking over my shoulder with Mr. D about was unappealing after having barely survived the action near Jeb’s Rock at Fax.
Stoppel’s treatment of my comrade’s wounds seemed more than adequate, his precautionary splinting seems to have greatly aided her healing and we have been able to remove it and discard it at dawn. We have had no rest but are near now the break water on the South Entry to Bar Harbor. Something troubles me about the city; it’s hard to know through the morning fog that makes this approach so dangerous. I have decided to drop anchor and wait for the sun to clear it away. We will pass the time with a nap.
Upon waking I found my partner hard at work duplicating my damaged notebook into the spare traveler I’ve trained her to keep, it seems I will have a fully functionally grimore after all. I smell cooking and sure enough she has managed to cook on the punts tiny stove. We dined on eggs, hard biscuit and tea while discussing my plans. A sail on the horizon: 2 masted square rigger black pennant. Thus it begins.
The Navigator’s journal ends abruptly here until it picks up again at the greybeards cabin.
Captain’s Log [Undated]
Once again I find myself in command of a punt, albeit the most luxurious and well constructed one I’ve ever sailed, and I am for a change not alone on this journey. I have bid my comrades farewell and invited only a young wizard [believed to his now graduated apprentice Miss Leipzig perhaps] to join me as I seek to locate my father to correct reports of my loss at sea. I have left the Escape as she returns to Gryax, being two weeks closer to Hard Bay here than there. Two weeks looking over my shoulder with Mr. D about was unappealing after having barely survived the action near Jeb’s Rock at Fax.
Stoppel’s treatment of my comrade’s wounds seemed more than adequate, his precautionary splinting seems to have greatly aided her healing and we have been able to remove it and discard it at dawn. We have had no rest but are near now the break water on the South Entry to Bar Harbor. Something troubles me about the city; it’s hard to know through the morning fog that makes this approach so dangerous. I have decided to drop anchor and wait for the sun to clear it away. We will pass the time with a nap.
Upon waking I found my partner hard at work duplicating my damaged notebook into the spare traveler I’ve trained her to keep, it seems I will have a fully functionally grimore after all. I smell cooking and sure enough she has managed to cook on the punts tiny stove. We dined on eggs, hard biscuit and tea while discussing my plans. A sail on the horizon: 2 masted square rigger black pennant. Thus it begins.
The Navigator’s journal ends abruptly here until it picks up again at the greybeards cabin.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Unique Star Logs (first compilation)
In a most unusual move, the Navigator sailed without contract negotiated by his guild, and in a still more unusual move, the Navigator copied each star log entry into his personal journal. His reasons for this cannot be discerned though it becomes clear later that he has embarked on a most dangerous mission, and his copious notes may have been kept to insulate him from prosecution in admiralty court for hazarding the Escape.
Navigators Star Log, Freeday, 28 Readying
Navigator Redding in Escape.
Two days at sea. Celene sighted 4 points broad abeam port, waning. Seas glassy, wind from the south, speed 11 knots, ballast dry (1 hand) at 4 bells. Course: ESE, 111 dg, Mate 1st Fenice at the helm. Fire watch is set, smoking lamp is lit. Mast sighted at noon, passed starboard, no flag or pennant.
Personal Journal
The past week has been a blur with little time to reflect on the events, inventory thoughts or work with my apprentice. She seems more than ready to begin working independently, she needs me now only for polish and tactical employment which in her future endeavors will be moot as she moves into some court or royal wizards stable where she will be provided her own host of men to defend her virtue.
This evening on the fo’c’sle I was able to reach that special place of complete peace and time stood still there entranced by the gossamer dance of moonlights finger over gently stirring seas. I feel again as a child, in pure awe of the world, filled with the strength for a full life not yet begun, indomitable, fearless and indestructible.
I brought my journal with me to reflect as Church decides to steal my best quill and knock it overboard.
This venture began with a summoning to Havenhill, Le Toux is a member of some lodge or other there it seems, and he was there waiting for us. As non members my team was stabled at the pig and whistle where we rejoiced in the spring warmth, the last of the winter mead, and a good game of bones. Gallon had won the evening and his winnings drew the attention of not a few of the working ladies there. I lost track of my favorite companion later that night as business intervened to ruin another otherwise perfect evening.
The reunion of friends was purposed on a matter of critical state importance, and as such I lead my staff to Gryax ahead of our patron to inspect the vessel we would be embarked upon and to make some inquiries into her master.
We stopped short of Gryax that evening, due to a burr one of the horses had picked up and we could not mend in the dark. We were ambushed by a Pomarj patrol of gnolls, of the low country/swamp variety, smaller and lighter than the Cairn Hills variety, they are typical of the type found cooperating with the other monsters of the pomarj, and known to have inhabited this territory since before the kingdom, or the men of moradin. They gave us quite a thrashing but two days later we were none the worse for wear.
I had personally failed to keep a prisoner I took, after misjudging the disposition of the hunting parties’ main body and reconnaissance elements owing to the echo in the hill country. We had also lost all of our baggage and mounts; abandoned hastily in an effort to maneuver defensively. A number of the beasts were felled and left there on the road. When we reached the frontier of the capitol’s outlying settlements we were greeted by a young soldier, Greg I believe he was his name, a corporal if I recall. He and a colleague had slain another gnoll that was pursuing a member of my staff that had become separated from the rest of us in the battle. I must remember to send him and his unit a gift from Kaska.
Our troubles were not completely behind us in Gryax. I had a wonderful meeting with Lord and Lady Leipzig, and was not surprised that they had expected me to be returning their daughter and ending her apprenticeship. I was not surprised by this and had a prepared response to help them understand clearly that I had no intention of giving up my gifted apprentice.
I had happened upon her note-taker, unbound and hastily tossed into the luggage that was salvaged. I could not resist the temptation to examine it at least briefly. I told myself it was in her best interest that I know what her understanding was of some of the complex problems I had given her. I should be careful not to discuss in detail my findings, except to say her vision and understanding of the world beyond knowing is advanced. The apprentice is certain to completely gain the wizards eye and vision ere the summer. It is most fortunate I remember the early steps into the arena of the gods, the courage it took to stand naked and helpless before them, then dare to steal their power. Still there are items within her note taker that are most troubling. I am unsure what the solutions to these problems are but I believe that out on the sea, the solution will become clear.
Still more troubling, her suitor Mr Finnegan who was now a part of my staff had been ambushed and assaulted by some locals. His lack of impulse control to blame no doubt. I learned also that Lady Leipzig is aware of the affair he and my apprentice are carrying on with. This I felt relieved me of at least some responsibility to supervise the two as her mother could certainly intervene if she wished.
All of this is quite enough but there is something that weighs more heavily upon my heart. Upon checking in at the Guild Hall, I found a full barrel of letters that had been misrouted and only now found me. It seems that two of my brothers have passed away, and word had reached home that I was taken at sea by slavers before I could get word home to tell everyone that I was quite safe. Father sold our family home to purchase a sloop. He crewed his ship with the worst dregs of our Hardy slums and prisons, and set out to rescue me.
Father is too old to be racing about the world fighting slavers or pirates, and I haven’t the slightest idea why he would destroy our family fortune to find me, one of seven sons, and arguably the least successful of them all. With the two deaths in the letters, and the others before there are still two others left alive. None of my correspondence reached home until this spring and my friends have been writing frantically.
I sent a message back after berating the Guild Postal Services Adjunct for his incompetence. Asking my friends to send out the word that I am established in Ulek, and working for the Regent. I plan after this mission to find my father and will keep a sharp lookout for his sloop while we sail up the wooly coast. The harbor master here has no reports on her location, she has not put in here.
Finally coming aboard Escape though but me at ease and made the impossible reunion with my father and home, seem within reach.
My staff has adapted well, Stoppel seems to have found a second calling and may rise to admiral of Moradin’s fleet, should the Oerth ever see such an institution.
Starday, 1Coldeven
Navigator Redding in Escape.
Three days at sea. Star Gilnus sighted 24 dgr elv, abeam port through clouds. Seas rising swiftly, wind erratic, speed 8 knots, ballast dry (1 hand) at 2 bells. Course: ESE, 111 dg, Captain Demsko at the helm. Extra lookouts posted, smoking lamp is out. Visibility limited to under 1 mile as fog and clouds build. Strom approaching from the east, our course will lead us into the northern edge. Extra ration of rum given the crew as the temperature has dropped precipitously.
Sunday, 2 Coldeven
Navigator Redding in Escape
Four days at sea. Dead Reckoning, no sighing of sun or star. Seas are heavy, cresting at 8 feet, ballast is at 1 foot, pumps manned at 4 bells. Course: 038 dg, Bosun at the Helm. Sails trimmed, lookouts tethered, smoking lamp is out. Visibility is near zero. Speed 13 knots, aided by rotation of storm and following swells.
Moonday, 3 Coldeven
Five days at sea. Sun 3 points port astern, 36 dgr elv, Seas calm, wind light from the west, speed 10 knots. Ballast dry at 4 bells. Course 033 dg, Quartermaster at the Helm. Lookouts secured, smoking lamp is lit. Passed HMS Triumphant she was making 11 knots heading SSE under full sail with outriggers.
Personal Journal
More details now have emerged of our patron’s plan. The regent has commissioned us only to investigate reports of a breeding facility for hybrid monsters. I have informed our patron that I endeavor to kill any who carry arms of the pomarj, and liberate any prisoners I come across in addition to this reconnaissance mission. He had us landing along Fax coast, I have advised a shift towards BH and friendly dwur native territory. I have begun outfitting the skiff for the mission and drilling my staff for battle should we find the enemy. They know I will take them into harm’s way, and are ready; Gallon most grimly so. He has obvious mixed feelings about our task and my attempts to lighten the mood with humor have had mixed results. Fortunately his mood is not affected by being tossed in a storm though he has not taken to the see with the same abandon as our priest.
Ms. Leipzig has voiced a preference for the Shield magic, over armor for defense. I was embarrassed to say I had not the formula. She had produced it saying it was perhaps incompletely copied from her previous instructor, I am working with her now to fill in the missing bits, and such a task is akin to inventing the spell anew and will take us some time. No doubt she will stumble into the answer just when it is most needed. As a short term, obvious combat spell, it is possible adrenaline and certain muscle memory actions are what’s missing so we have asked Stoppel, who is quite handy with a shield, more so perhaps than Gallon, to help us.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Treatise
The navigator spends the rest of Freeday the 7th of Readying contemplating the purpose of his gifts and magic, that evening he began his treatise on high and low magic, that will become one of the more influential texts on the subject, used by jurists to establish Keolish Law on some delicate, previously secret matters.
I had promised Billet Perry my own treatise and theorem on 'good' and 'evil' magic, thoughts on orthodoxy, heresy, woe and weal in magic to help some council looking at the matter from a position of jurisprudence to determine how those like myself might be viewed by rightful authority.
Originally I believed I would be able to make a strong case for a legal framework on magical ritual and powers. I had divided magic into high and low orders of magic separated by intention. I have wrestled with determining intention, especially in the case of my bodyguard.
When I first encountered my friend, he was bent on murdering my fellows, companions on a quest for the crown – rightful authority of this land, to protect and rescue survivors of territory now occupied by the enemy. My friend came from their ranks. He charged them and I used what should always be considered low magic to bind him to me. I did not exhort the gods to grant me a binding, I simply manipulated the keys to the god’s powers through magical knowledge, borrowing or stealing their power for my own intention. It seems though that there may be yet a hint of divine control, will or intent, one cannot it seems totally discount the gods.
My intentions were to take this bound creature and use him to surprise and destroy his former allies who would not suspect him, and to stop him from killing my own people. He was expected to die bound to my will. He did not die however; he lived on and continued traveling with me, endearing him to me. I planned then to rob him and send him on a suicide mission to deliver a message to his former masters; this was my will until the gods interfered.
He turned to the church of the Cuthbertines and became reborn taking for himself a new name and finding acceptance amongst them even honor and adulation. He was a changed man. The binding was broken and he had remained of his own will having found he claimed a new self and enjoyable life, gentle and kind people to share his life with and a home worth protection. I might have doubted his rebirth if not for what happened on the road.
There again we found ourselves in a fight for our lives together. He was suffering the brunt of the enemies force and I had expected instinct and rage to over take him. But he was brought to a halt, a momentary pause. I urged him forward to strike a helpless foe, unconcerned was I with honor then, but he seemed to believe that he was being guided to perhaps have mercy. He was conflicted about striking the defenseless hybrid monsters of the Pomarj. He did not put me at risk in this, only himself. He prevailed once the enemy turned his attention back to him and instinct took over.
I used my own magic in what I believed to be a high manner, to defend us from charging monsters. But when the fight was over we discovered we had only killed a family, a male, a female and an infant or juvenile giant monster, this troubled me as these were creatures bred like my friend, and taught to work or fight for the evil masters of the Orcish Empire. They may only have been seeking to escape war and bondage but I killed them.
My friend might have found a better way for us, and them. I did not let it happen. What god and what intention then would pronounce judgments on my actions? Would the court at Niole Dra hold my actions just in binding my bodyguard? And if I had robbed him and sent him off to die? Would they judge me an evil ally of the Orcish Empire for bringing this warrior who was a chief of an enemy tribe to our lands? Is the murder of the slave monster child a stain on my honor though it will likely serve the long term security interests of the Uleki and Keoish people?
I decided that I could not offer a treatise on high or low magic, good or evil. There are few ways to concretely discern one from the other. One cannot judge intentions, as outcomes are often not what were intended. My body guard may yet be a pawn of the enemy, my taking mercy on him might be the will of Gruumsh or it might be the hand of Cuthbert, and serve a greater purpose. I cannot claim to have used the powers of the gods without their consent though I did not exhort them for aide as a priest does, no wizard then should then be outlaw in these lands.
Let him be judged then by his actions. What he does with his magic within his control. Let murder be murder be it by poison, sword, sling, and bow or spells that command fire from the sky. That there should be some acts of magic some knowledge forbidden then to men; magic from which no good can come?
Indeed I must admit there are some actions reprehensible to me and most I would say should be forbidden simply to know, teach or keep. Animating the dead renders the spirits of the departed in a tortured state, and is thus most vile and evil. It destroys their souls and corrupts them and the undead wish only to work to devour the living. What good can come from this? There may be other acts or miracles that I do not yet know that I shall discover in time and I will continue my treatise based on those findings.
For now I am happy to have learned that those creatures we discovered on the road to Havenhill were causing some trouble for the Shirefolk of Nob. I would rest easier oddly knowing they had murdered and that their painful deaths at my hands were more justified. Right now I feel ill and am wracked with guilt; haunted by the overwhelming full sensory memory of the previous day. I am concerned too that my callous disregard for life different from my own matrix, and more akin to my bodyguards may have put him off a bit. Made him question my nature, I must endeavor to redeem myself in his eyes to be right with my own heart.
And I am left with a question; what for then my powers? What is his will that has remained hidden but obviously so? Am I a force for entropy, chaos and destruction or can I retain my own gentle nature I so much preferred before these events? Is the magic making me an enemy of men as well as monster? Am I a creature not unlike the Sarge, made of something else that beyond the laws of man?
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