The Journey towards the Sea

In the morning we rose early on account of the mercenary. After eating breakfast, I set out to talk to the elf once more about the ship. When I arrived, both the herbalist and the elf was awake to my gentle surprise. Better to have them awake than to rouse them and render the elf more confused than she already was. Unfortunately, the elf couldn't share any more information. She does not remember anything about a ship, neither does she remember any more than she already has told us. What worries me, is the fact that I noticed a couple of clear signs that she was under the same influence as the magic bugbear, and according to the testimony of the elf, also that of Thorpe. This worries me greatly, and I informed the herbalist of this fact, and asked him to keep a close watch over the elf. He agreed and would do so - I just hope he's able to keep that promise.
 
We left the village late in the dawn, and set out towards the sea. Both me and the mercenary came this way just a few days ago so the travel was swift. The one hiccup was a cloaked old man appearing from between the trees, giving me a note, seemingly in deep speech, and then dissappearing into thin air, leaving only the cloak and the orange that Nakor gave him. This is all very strange. Deep speech is the speech of seacreatures, and its use is not for this far inland. It's one thing if we were dealing with a triton conspiracy, but not one of our encounters has involved one of their kin. Very well, I'll have to find them in the capital's deep market and question them. The gill-men will know at least something about this whole situation.
 
We finally reached the tavern that lies just about mid-way between Amarley and the capital. It is a good place, and the company this evening was good as well. I met some fellow sailors again, which lightened my land-burdened heart, and we shared some stories. Allegedly one of the sailors had their tongue cut out by Flynn. Fucking Flynn, temper as bad as fresh meat having lied in the sun for a month at sea. Might be why he elected to turn on Captain Perval in Thorpe's betrayal, Perval might have said something a couple months back. Damned orc and his long memory.
I almost let my tongue slip and reveal my suspicions about the Illitihids to the sailor, but I managed to keep it in check. The sailor had not heard anything of the sort and seemed to think that it was gossip. The man was an old pirate, however he himself called it "creative sailing". A term that is just blatantly wrong, pirating is mindless and without finesse. The polar opposite of real sailing, battling against the wind and escaping ill-minded "creative sailors". Had half a mind to punch him out on the floor right there and then.
 
The night has hitherto been uneventful. The mercenary seems intent to keep watch, even in a tavern. I do not know why she's this paranoid, but I guess I'll have to oblige. Gives me time to write these journals and maybe catch some more shuteye. She's asleep now anyways.