Divers

A diving flame, pluming roars—

A heart it seeks for light reborn.

A wrathful Nature consumes its soul—

A Mother's tax; the timeless toll.
 
We were assaulted on the road by two Perytons a couple days ago. I had only read of the creatures before, and I will admit their supposed rarity caught me off guard when I saw them flying above us. Perytons are a strange mix of deer and bird, and they need to consume fresh hearts before laying their young. I had hoped the beasts would soon understand the futility of attacking our group, but we struck them down quicker than they had even arrived. The priestess of Aerdrie Faenya, Chenna, disagreed with my description of the beasts including any relation to deer, which struck me odd. You would think any intimation of their relation to birds would cause her greater vexation, but perhaps this was a more personal disagreement than a religious one. Does such a difference exist for a cleric?
 
I also noticed Dillion sketching the Perytons after they had fallen, as he does with many other creatures. I wonder if he does this for study or for amusement. I took some notes as well to aid in crafting the poem above, though it was interesting, purely from an academic perspective, to see the differences myself between the descriptions of Perytons which I had read and the actual creatures before me. I had not expected their wings to be so expansive and their talons to be so fine.
 
Farther down the road, we came upon a horde of hobgoblins. These, in particular, were savage and intended to harm a merchant and his guard, who were cowering behind their broken wagon. Many of our unforeseen encounters are violent and impetuous, and this was little different, though we did split the party in a seemingly tactical manner before engaging. Before heading to the front line, I made Hjolgarn invisible and read Dillion a poem I had written for him a couple weeks prior:
 
An unborn, toothless dragon

Was carried away in our wagon—

Then its shell shimmered and opened

An egg and argument broken.

And some might think the inherent risk

Couldn't be worth a Malaekliss,

But if to enemies our dragon fell,

I'd kill them all and then myself!
 
I am still not sure if my poems have any effect and, in hindsight, perhaps ending the poem with a suicidal pact wasn't the best of choices. I know I can create magic through them, but Dillion's countenance did not seem to change upon hearing it, as if I had been a lizard trying to recite the holy verses of Oghma. Unfortunately, in moments like these I feel like we have not a minute's security, so there is no time to inquire. We must all push forward, and so we did. Hjolgarn and I nearly died to the hobgoblins—if I could not magically brace myself, I'm not sure what I would do—and while doing so the guards continued to cower. I did not think this was acceptable, so I tried to procure some form of payment from them afterwards. They were able to provide us a handful of armor sets.
 
I gave all these pieces to Dillion, so that he could ascertain their properties. He seemed to suggest that this was foolish considering Godfrey is capable of doing this through magic. However, I think a fresh perspective is generally beneficial. I do not know how Godfrey's magic works and with what degree of accuracy it does. Further, I do not know what Dillion is capable of, or of what magic he knows. He begrudgingly took the sets, looked them over, and was able to discern the magical properties of 3 of the 4 armor pieces. Magic, be damned. A wizard, indeed.
 
Before the night was through, Godfrey and I discussed my approach to learning about others. In my weariness, I attempted to explain the usefulness of appearing unassuming in the presence of certain individuals when trying to gain information. He suggested that people appreciate it more when you are forthright, and when they unknowingly receive what they want. I do not know what people want, but it is possible Godfrey has a point. I am so accustomed with seeing Addison get his way with such approaches that I never seriously considered alternatives. A diver should mind to mend its course, but not for too long lest it catches upon the leash.