I chose...poorly

{Half-frozen, mentally numb, rocking slightly by the fire, Gayle reads over his previous notes for comfort}
 
Day 21
 
The adventurers procured a wagon and horse, a fine horse by the looks of her. That must have cost a small fortune. Perhaps they are better-heeled than I thought. With our supplies stowed, we began our journey to the heart of Treaty Woods. I am equally excited and petrified. The tales of the deep Woods are not pretty. Many don’t return. The Captain’s words still echo in my head. “In case of emergency.” I hope we never need to find out what that means.
 
The Woods seem off. One can still see the remnants of destruction here: scorched land, animals frightened off, that vague burnt offering smell. It feels like we’re being followed. Odd clusters of ravens appear out of nowhere and never quite move, yet always manage to stay in view. I would say it was a sign from High Priestess Bowyn, but…well…she’s not precisely in any condition to be giving signs. Hopefully Nenemeth sees Her way clear to bless our travels nonetheless.
 
We arrived at Camp Venelis, but were not permitted entry. Only Master Xylund was allowed inside. It’s tragic to see such an inviting community shutter itself like that, but I understand the impulse. They have lost a lot, at least according to the Captain. So many people here have. An immense amount of pain and devastation, comfort needed across the board. And here I am, in the back of a wagon, scribbling reports. Perhaps I got too caught up in the excitement and made the wrong choice.
 
After Master Xylund returned from delivering Her Grace’s parcel, we were once again on the road. The strangeness of the Woods did not disappoint. Animals behaving oddly, even with a Druidess in company. The grandest surprise was the appearance of a firbolg! (sketch enclosed) A massive creature, but soft-spoken and kind. He offered a message for Annie, but more importantly, asked for assistance. A nearby crevasse had become infested and his size prevented him from dealing with it effectively. My understanding of his people was something different. Supposedly, they eschew violence at all costs, but this one had a clutch of rabbits…?….rats….?….on his belt and seemed to have no issue with the crew eradicating whatever had taken residence in the tree. Well, perhaps the research is wrong. Or this one is an outlier. He does have a strange speech pattern. In we go!
 
Never again! Never. Again. Paralyzed. I was literally paralyzed. Small montrosities infesting the shadows, striking without warning. The bite and those legs and that terrible noise. I shudder to think my theory is correct. It can’t be. I need to get to the emergency stash, whatever it may be. This is beyond us!
 
As if to prove my point, we found the remains of a Cathol Ros in the selfsame cave, a priest by all appearance. So, sure, why not desecrate the body and loot it for valuables. I am sure that is ABSOLUTELY the wisest course of action here. A dagger was located, but broken. It definitely had the look of a ceremonial tool, confirming my suspicions regarding the cave, its vermin, this corpse, and the fact that we need to be very, VERY far away from all of it.
 
But no. Of course, no. A door was discovered and with some investigation, so was the means to open it. It looked hopeless at first, but Kern…or should I say Brother Kern…called upon something outside himself. The air stilled and I involuntarily held my breath. It was an amazing moment to be a part of. He pushed past the wards and entered the chamber beyond.
 
Blessed Daralei, Keeper of Fate, what have we blundered into? Writing covered all walls, tight and small and stifling. Even the sight of those runes made me panic, but I copied as many as I could before scrambling away. (rubbings attached, unable to fully decipher) They wanted to walk in! This was clearly an entrance to a Cathol Ros tunnel, perhaps leading to even more of the blighted things. AND THEY WANTED TO KNOCK ON THEIR DOOR!
 
Is this what the Captain meant by “expendable”? Can’t breathe.
 
And with that plan thankfully abandoned, we left. The Druidess was called home, not surprising given the Circles and their stewardship duties. I’m sure they are in need of all hands. Onward we travel.
 
Day 26 (?)
 
It’s impossible to track time here. Not even the petty squabbles of the crew can set one day from the next. Somehow the horse was injured, but Master Xylund brought forth another, so we were able to continue, much to my dismay. I lost the box. Brother Kern has it now. I had a moment. They are not concerned…even as the sky flickers and weather bakes and freezes and throws us through brambles and massive trees. We did meet some helpful folks, halflings who offered to guide us back to the road. That seems a long time ago. We didn’t accept of course. But they at least pointed us to an elderberry grove. Kindness can be found in even the darkest places, it seems.
 
After a brief stop at that grove, we ran into a young woman offering shelter and care for our now injured horse. (This is why we can’t have nice things.) Her invitation seemed genuine enough and we followed her home. Well…that was a mistake. We were trapped in a strange realm that was apparently controlled by mechanisms in the center of the hall. Burning, freezing, biting, all manner of Hells unleashed. Corrin cramming himself into a fireplace…for reasons. It was all very confusing and painful and tiring and watching this group not learning the unstable zone lesson was equal parts frustrating and funny. (Sketches of the layout, decor, young woman) After what feels like forever, they bungled through. I scored some interesting books on butterflies and exotic flora. Nearly worth my life, I’m sure.
 
Day ????
 
How long were we in there, anyway? Left my pack in the wagon, apple in the pouch. It was nearly mush. Not going to bother to alert the others. Too tired to deal with that. Just ready to see the end of this place. Looking back for one last sketch reference, I saw Brother Kern….uh… po … taking a sh …hmm…defecating on the porch. Not sure what church he belongs to, but fairly sure that’s not how you bless a house. Maybe the theory of magic resonance is true and he was still cat-brained. Interesting thought.
 
on…and on….and on….
 
driving, freezing rain. sick of it. sick of the woods. cold and tired and hungry.
 
we find a house. a woodsman and his child. he offers us shelter and food and a fire. the adventurers are (okay, maybe, understandably) wary, but he seemed kind enough. a widower with a child can’t be harmful, right? poor girl. he said his wife was taken by the mummers plague some years ago, and obviously the girl was stricken too. nasty bit of work. seen some of it before I was fully apprenticed. red cheeks and pale skin. jerking of the limbs. eventually the body just burns itself right through, blind, deaf, mute. can’t eat, drink, move, nothing. tragic…painful way to die.
 
and xylund keeps asking about it. oh good. if I could lift my arm, I would facepalm.
 
sleep. all I want is sleep. our host wants a game though: what do we value most? I answered honestly, because why not? too tired to lie anyway. not sure about the others, but corrin refused to answer. that was rude. he’s obviously never read the tale of the traveler’s gift. oh well…
 
Day ? + ?
 
Dawn Lake…at last. Massive moon and silent waves. Apparently there’s a puzzle to solve, and by approaching it, a faun and elf appear. friendly, so bonus. insert the key. katt gave us a key. still say we need her. i need that box. don’t think I can get it from stoop-pooper though. maybe if I just think about her? but then does that invite her into my brain? I must admit I know very little about how dreameaters work. I don’t think I want to extend that invite if I don’t have to. still though…we may need her.
 
…or not…Davynn cracks it! Colour me shocked. the tower appears and I immediately regret all my life choices. but our guides..uh…guide us. sitting in the rear of the boat, I can hear the faint click of the elf’s knuckles as he drives. this is not what it seems. The Tower is impressive, if not soul-shatteringly frightening. Surrender my weapons? Absolutely, little faun friend.
 
{Shaky script continues on the water-marked page}
 
Room of doors. Huh. I swear something is moving above. Faun shows us to a little room, which ends up being the last thing I see before waking up in my personal nightmare. Ice. Ice everywhere. I panicked. Sacred flame. I chose…poorly.
 
Please…please…let us get this done soon. The Woods are going to be the end of me. (sketch of gravestone)