Entry 11: Cursed twins

Dear diary,
 
 
On the evening of the 10th of Lug, I find solace within the confines of Robert's wagon, grateful for the respite he has graciously offered. The enigmatic bard's kindness knows no bounds, especially as I have been plagued by a wretched illness for the past two days.
 
The morning following our first night of camp, I awoke to a gnawing sensation in my stomach and a relentless pounding in my head. To compound matters, a thick, suffocating fog had descended upon the forest overnight, enveloping us in its clammy embrace. As we gathered for breakfast, it became apparent that Luke was also suffering, his complexion as pallid as the mist that veiled our surroundings. While the others appeared unaffected, my mind couldn't help but return to the foreboding verses of the poem. Was there a sinister force at play, targeting the two of us? Could this mysterious mist be the harbinger of some malevolent influence, its tendrils ensnaring us in its grasp?
 
Feeling utterly miserable without the ability to wield magic against the illness that plagued us, I found myself immensely grateful for Liliana's expertise in the divine arts. With her swift intervention, she offered some semblance of relief from whatever malady had befallen us.
 
With our spirits lifted ever so slightly, we resumed our journey through the dense forest, the oppressive mist surrounding us like a suffocating cloak. Wrapped snugly in my blanket atop the cart, lost in contemplation, I was jolted from my reverie by a sudden cry of alarm echoing from the rear of the caravan.
 
Hurrying to investigate, we were met with a scene of chaos as a massive owlbear burst forth from the undergrowth, its eyes ablaze with fury, foam dripping from its beak and matting its fur.
 
The enraged owlbear charged toward Ileas and Liliana, who stood steadfast in defense at the rear of their wagon. Recognizing the imminent danger posed by these formidable creatures, I knew swift action was necessary. With determination coursing through my veins, I unleashed a spell, lulling the owlbear into a deep magical slumber.
 
As the tension eased, I approached the slumbering beast, my concern shifting from immediate threat to the creature's well-being. Upon closer examination, it became evident that the owlbear was not afflicted with the same mysterious illness that had plagued the wildlife in Tarn. Instead, its wounds bore witness to a recent skirmish, fresh blood staining its fur.
 
We deliberated briefly on what course of action to take, wary of the consequences of disturbing the creature's rest. Ultimately, we opted to leave it undisturbed, hoping it would awaken unharmed and choose to retreat back into the safety of the woods.
To our relief, when the owlbear eventually roused from its enchanted slumber, it chose to flee into the depths of the forest rather than pursue us further. A sense of pride swelled within me at having spared its life, recognizing that despite their origins in dark magic, these creatures had become an integral part of the natural world and deserved a chance to live free from harm.
 
As the hours dragged on, a familiar sense of illness began to creep over my brother and me once more. Suspicions gnawed at my mind, and I couldn't shake the feeling that the unnatural fog shrouding us held some malevolent intent, targeting Luke and me specifically.
 
Summoning what little strength he had left, Luke attempted to use his magic to probe the mist for answers. I watched with a heavy heart as he struggled against the oppressive weight of his fatigue, yet his efforts confirmed my fears – the fog was indeed imbued with magical energy.
 
With little recourse available to us, I brewed a concoction from the herbs I had on hand, hoping to alleviate our symptoms and provide some measure of relief. Sinking back into the warmth of my blankets, I prayed that an early evening and a restful night's sleep would offer respite from the relentless onslaught of sickness that plagued us.
 
 
9th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree
 
As the night dragged on, my condition only worsened, leaving me feeling more debilitated than ever before. A deep sense of longing washed over me as I yearned for the comforting presence of Terrin, the grumpy old hobgoblin whose wisdom and guidance I sorely missed.
 
With trembling limbs, I staggered out of the cart and collapsed onto the forest floor, clutching my blanket tightly around me in a feeble attempt to ward off the chill. My suggestion that the oppressive fog might be the source of our affliction met with little enthusiasm from my companions, their spirits dampened by the relentless mist that enveloped us.
 
Even the typically adventurous souls of Liliana and Alistan seemed subdued in the face of the fog's suffocating grip. Frustrated and desperate for a solution, I considered using Fiachna to investigate the extent of the mist, but the mere thought of shifting my vision to my faithful raven sent waves of agony coursing through my head.
 
In the end, I sent Fiachna alone to survey the fog's boundaries. She returned swiftly with news that the fog stretched from horizon to horizon, its reach extending as far as the eye could see. It was a disheartening revelation, leaving us feeling trapped and helpless within its murky confines, with no clear path out in sight.
 
As a sense of despair began to settle over our weary hearts and minds, Gael, emboldened by a newfound resolve, stepped forward and boldly called out for whoever was responsible for our misery to reveal themselves. I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at his courageous stance – perhaps my own usual boldness was rubbing off on him.
 
To our surprise, it was not some malevolent spirit of the forest that emerged from the thick veil of fog, but rather Sylvesse, the majestic protector of the woods. Seizing the opportunity, I swiftly explained our predicament and my suspicions regarding the nature of the fog. While Sylvesse lamented his lack of magical ability to counter the enchantment, his insights proved invaluable. He confirmed that the fog was indeed magical, likely the result of some fey enchantment or curse.
 
Oddly enough, this revelation actually lifted my spirits, as I realized I possessed the means to combat curses through my brews and elixirs. As I set to work preparing my potions, Sylvesse shared more of his wisdom, suggesting that the fog was not specifically targeting Luke and me, but rather our weakened state was merely a side-effect of the magic interfering with our own. He emphasized that the only sure way to escape its grasp was to leave the fog behind entirely.
 
As I administered some of my magic potions to Luke, his grimace at the taste was unmistakable. Despite his distaste he swallowed it down, while we engaged in a discussion about our options. Turning back seemed the most straightforward path out of the forest, but traveling around Lorewood is a risky proposition, not to mention the considerable time it would take. If we intended to reach Keralon, pushing forward was our best bet. With the weight of the decision resting heavily on our shoulders, Luke and I resolved to press on.
 
With a newfound sense of determination and a slight improvement in our condition, we resumed our journey. However, a few hours later, our progress was abruptly halted by a shout from the front of the caravan. Another cart blocked our path, a sight that initially surprised us but soon filled us with dread as we drew closer.
 
As we approached the scene of carnage, a chilling sense of dread settled over us. Four lifeless bodies lay sprawled in the mud, their lives cut short by spears and arrows. The horses that once pulled the cart lay butchered nearby, their carcasses a grim testament to the brutality of the attack. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, indicating that this tragedy had unfolded at least a day prior.
 
Examining the tracks left behind in the mud, my mind raced through the possibilities. Goblins initially sprung to mind, but their presence in Lorewood seemed unlikely, especially considering the lack of any stolen supplies. It became clear that the perpetrators were driven by a desire for bloodshed and destruction, rather than mere pillaging.
 
With heavy hearts, we laid the fallen to rest, offering what little solace we could in the form of a proper burial. Salvaging what supplies remained intact, we transferred them to our own carts, knowing that they were likely intended for Logvale. It was a small gesture, but the least we could do to honor the memory of those whose lives were unjustly taken. As we continued our journey, the weight of the tragedy lingered in our hearts, a somber reminder of the dangers that lurked within the depths of Lorewood.
 
As we continued our journey, Dadroz's keen eyes spotted a lone figure stumbling along the road ahead. A young man, bearing the signs of a fierce struggle – his body battered, his clothes torn, and blood staining his skin. He seemed oblivious to our presence until we drew near, at which point the fear in his eyes was unmistakable. Despite our attempts to offer aid and reassurance, he remained unresponsive, his gaze haunted by unseen terrors.
 
Recognizing the urgency of his condition, I decided to use my magic to lull him into a peaceful slumber. Perhaps with rest and care, he would be more receptive to our assistance.
 
The remainder of the day passed without incident, our mysterious guest remaining in a deep sleep. It seemed that the magical slumber had merely reminded his exhausted body of its need for rest. Meanwhile, Luke and I continued to suffer from our ailment, our strength waning as the day wore on.
 
As night fell and we made camp, Liliana once again employed her magic to ease our discomfort, granting us a chance at a peaceful night's rest. Elsa's generous offer of her carriage to Luke brought a glimmer of joy to his weary eyes, while I found myself pleasantly surprised by Robert's gentlemanly gesture, offering his own carriage to me.
 
With the promise of warmth and comfort for the night, I dared to hope that a respite from the cold would bring some relief to our ailing bodies, allowing us to face the challenges of the days ahead with renewed strength and vigor.
 
10th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree