From the Journal of Kairon Wander, Jongleur:
4th of the Green, Praises to Chauntea!
Today, I have seen more of my ignorance of the universe than any other before. This morning on the road, my companions and I encountered another dire wolf. But, this one was, different. It was sickly, rotting and burning, yet seemingly still alive, unlike the blokes at the tower. More a cursed and rabid thing, but it worked as though an intelligent force focused its will through the creature. We were alarmed of course, but Jotum made quick work of the thing, gods be praised! However, with its dying breath, it uttered hellish curses which were nuanced enough that I could not discern their exact meaning. It wasn't until after that I realized we were one more in number. A halfling ranger from the north calling himself Allec, I believe he has a coastal accent. He said that he had been tracking the beast for many days, and we had now helped in relieving the beast of its misery. While introductions were being made, Jotum, in his usual fervor, had dismembered the wolf thoroughly. But where the beast's heart should have been, there lay a lump of obsidian with my grand-sire's tongue etched into its surface. I dare not give pen to what it reads, but know that it is dark and binding in nature. Jotum collected the thing and was immediately burned by it, whatever magics within still very much active. I gathered the piece, though I must admit that even for me it was extremely uncomfortable to hold. I consulted Aoth on the meaning of the incantations, but he was as stumped as I. For now, I have the offensive stone in my pack, but perhaps Aoth will be able to learn more when we reach the temple of Oghma in Sul. In any case, our new companion knew of a druid grove not far from where we were, and recommended that we go to them for aid. So, breaking from the main road, we made west to the grove.
After many hours of frustratingly slow travel, I admit mostly to my fault, we broke treeline into a large meadow in the forest. Perhaps I will illustrate some of what we saw there, but my ambition leaves me at the late hour which I write. In any case, great stone obelisks blending with the foliage were the most notable aspects of the place. That, and the druid. An old man by all standards, but clearly powerful and one with the land. He spoke to us of the coming doom and our connection to it, we were its harbingers in his eyes. He offered to send us through a shortcut, a passage through the Greenwoods of the Feywild. We took him up on his offer and headed on our way. As of now, I have spoken with the locals of the forest, and they believe this to be a safe passage. So tonight I will sleep well, and maybe Jotum will be freed from his visions for at least one night.
5th of the Green,
We departed the Greenway this morning and landed ourselves in the foothills just a couple days out of the great trade city of Soule. We were mere miles from the town of Name, and so made our way down a forgotten path to this small spot of civilization. As it turns out, there are many heading West, with dark omens abounding, and word of unholy things to the North, it seems many merchants have abandoned their normal routines in favor of the relative safety the sea provides. Among these were Humans, Dwarves, Halflings, and Elves. Though, the most curious group is that of Sarai, an elf from the Sea of Sand far to the East and South. She had a mysterious air about her, and Aoth seemed quite interested in what she had to tell him. Perhaps I should inquire. As for the others, Jotum seemed to fit in nicely with the local brawlers, and Allec found a spirit that could flatten the entire Halfling community. For myself, I spoke with a fellow bard by the name of Placeholder, and while he knew nothing of the godly horn, he would inquire with whatever contacts he could. Now, before I miss all the fun, I should try some of what Allec's offering.