March 3, 1492

There was a draft today. Something to do with those Dragon Cult lunatics. I’m under Lt. Reya Mantlemorn’s command for the foreseeable future. She’s young, spunky. It’ll be a real shame when this city snuffs the spark in her eye.
 
I was called up for the mission alongside a young Half-Elf, Enya; a Harengon, Kunin; and a blue Dragonborn, Umber. Enya is naive, bit chatty, but fiery. One to keep an eye on. Kunin is a rotten little prick. Seems to be tight with Umber. I’ll have to pay close attention to those two, especially the latter. He mentioned something today about “the platinum one.” I’ll have to look into that.
 
We accompanied some officials, as security detail, into the city where they were meeting to discuss the theft of treasure and gold by the cultists a couple years back, and the redistribution thereof. There, we learned that some stragglers are still causing problems for the towns and villages around Elturel. Lt. Mantlemorn volunteered our crew to investigate.
 
On our way out of Baldur’s Gate, a couple of citizens requested our presence as witnesses to their marriage. Mantlemorn agreed and blathered afterward about how nice it was to do some small kindness for a citizen. She still believes the Hellriders can regain a measure of glory and respect. I’ll just be happy to earn a meaningful death. I probably don’t deserve it. The world’s only flightless Aarakocra. Wingless Wonder. When did they go away? Did I ever have them? I can’t remember.
 
Father’s wings were resplendent in the sunshine. Brilliant red plumage with golden flecks. Cirrak hatched an opaque yellow, like vintage drapes marinated in pipe smoke. He matured to a vivid ambrosia, though. And with Raakic’s dull sienna pigment, the three of us set the nest ablaze. A clutch of sparks laid in a bed of kindling. It was only natural, then. Under the hunting clouds. How could he pass up the beacon of our colony?
 
Later, we encountered a dire wolf. It had cornered a young girl in a tree. Something was very different about this wolf. It was as if it had been corrupted by some dark force. We brought it down in short order. I was shocked by our efficiency given the tensions in the group. I swallowed my dignity and scaled the tree to help the child down, but the little ingrate ignored my outstretched hand and simply jumped to the ground, where she berated the troop for a so-called lackluster performance. Even I took some offense on their behalf, despite my reservations about this bunch.
 
Near the clearing’s edge, I found a sooty gray pup. Evidently, we had just slew his mother. Enya swaddled him in her cloak and dubbed him “Ash.” She hopes we can find him a home somehow. I do, too.
 
Lt. Mantlemorn was injured in the fray. A nasty bite on her leg. Still, she insisted we press on. The others tried to argue, but I knew it was no good. She’s young, stubborn, and hopeful - which are all just nicer ways to say stupid. No arguing with that.
 
We pushed farther into the woods and soon discovered footprints beside a rushing creek. As the more experienced tracker, I recommended we use the water to cover our movement and try to maintain the element of surprise. It was the right call. We ambushed a cultist mid-ritual - or we would have if Kunin could aim a bow to save his life. He talks like he’s some kind of badass, but when we’re in the shit he’s all fluff. Figures.
 
In any case, we did manage to take her down. Too late for her sacrificial victim, unfortunately. We moved into the next clearing and met a pair of cloaked figures and some kind of bloody, grayish monstrosity. One of them damn near took me out. Luckily, I pilfered a healing potion off his comrade’s charred body. Note to self: Do NOT fuck with Enya.
 
We also had the displeasure of meeting an owlbear. The smell of blood and sound of battle must have driven it our way. Fortunately, it was only interested in the bodies we’d left sprawled about - that was, until Kunin sunk a handaxe into its shoulder. I know I said I wanted to die, but I also said I wanted it to be meaningful. I don’t know how or why, but the owlbear decided we weren’t worth the trouble.
 
By then, the lieutenant’s wound was exacerbated, Umber was hurting, and Kunin and Enya were about ready to kill each other. It was time to get back to Elturel.
 
When we crested the hill just before the city limit, it happened. The Companion’s light dissipated. A great burning cavern opened and swallowed Elturel. A rash of sparks and stray embers tossed in the wind like bats streaming from their lair. Like jagged feathers torn from limp bodies. The echoes of the people’s screams rebounded from the walls of the gaping sinkhole and spun into the evening air.
 
The deceitful skies have never been safe, and now there is no haven for me on the ground. He will find me. He is hunting. Always hunting. I must go lower, still. I will follow Elturel into these burning depths where he cannot go. I will burn before I am burned. I must go lower. Follow the city down. He cannot follow. The lying wind does not blow beneath the ground. Lower lower lower I will go with Elturel into the depths to burn before I am burned before I burn before I burn before I burn where the lying wind does not blow.