Alma’s Archive 01-11-1566

The hour has grown late as the churning waves rock the schooner’s hull. My eyes grow weary from fatigue, but sleep eludes me. Even now my heart’s in my throat, feeling as though it’s going to burst. Never has death been such an imminent threat, looming over my head like a guillotine.
I knew my plan was a gambit, was aware of the complications and potential consequences involved. Even still, I was so certain that it would work, that it was foolproof… Now, I find myself at a loss, feeling I’m here only by the skin of my teeth. But I’ve gotten ahead of myself.
We dove into the frigid waters, and upon surfacing in an underwater grotto encountered a ghoulish woman inhabiting the submerged chamber. She was otherworldly and primal in demeanour, hissing and chuckling eerily- akin to the hags our parents warned us about. Yet the entity did not harm us, revealing that the corpse of one Cpt. Roberts was entombed deeper within and that she was eager to be rid of it. A frightful sight she was, but we sensed that her words were truthful enough. On her advice we swam through eroded corridors, a familiar sense of dread trickling down my spine as we continued.
Eventually we found ourselves in the heart of the cavern, a familiar skeletal figure greeting us- the Pirate Dread Roberts, back from the grave once more. This fight was just as perilous as our previous encounter, the aura of fear filling my veins like ice-water, yet we pushed forth. Eldur and Iss took the frontline, sword and axe chipping away at him (Though Iss seemed to have some trouble in the inky blackness). From the darkness Valspira conjured up spectral projectiles and a shadowy hound to harry the ghost while Mirik summoned flames and fireflies from a distance to injure it. I too kept to a distance, managing to get a few good shots in. At one point it did look rather dire, both Iss and Eldur being worn down by his soul-siphoning strikes… but the sorceress came through, her missiles sending him to the afterlife for good.
As the rotted remains fell into the water, so too did his glowing blade… and an orb, jet black and shrouded in a hazy glow. The moment it became visible, Eldur’s eyes were drawn to it as if a moth were to flame. It clicked into place then, all the muttering under his breath from earlier, and my gut instinct insisted that he must not get a hold of it. My lungs burned from the effort, but I quickly swam over and dove down, snatching the sphere right from under him. I tried to play it off as a byproduct of my curiosity, but my insides were twisting up as those yellow eyes stared through me. Iss seemed to sense something was awry however, moving closer as if to act as a barrier between him and I. All the same, I was taken aback when those massive paws suddenly swiped out at me. He could’ve tore my arm to shreds with those claws! Yet I managed to evade it.
Once more he tried to attack me, Iss and Valspira just as alarmed with his behaviour as myself. He’s always been a bit of a wildcard, but this was unprecedented even for him. It was rather tense, but with their assistance I managed to charm him into standing down. If the circumstances were different, one might’ve derived some amusement from his grovelling. Here, it just felt… wrong. “Please Alma, I’m begging you- give me the sphere.” he implored, words tinged with desperation. Yet in those amber eyes I could see all- he was being pressured in part, but there was also a malevolent greed all his own, keen and hungry. And when the tiefling and I inspected the object in question, both of us could feel the necromantic energies emanating from it, far greater than anything either of us have ever encountered. Valspira believes it’s demonic in nature, and given how Eldur (Or the entity possessing him) craved its power… well, granting that request was out of the question. For now, we’ve entrusted it to Iss’ possession- if anyone is capable of protecting it from that thieving cat, it’s her.
Before things could escalate once more, the hag appeared, seemingly pleased that we destroyed the spectre… but also inquiring about the orb. She too seemed to sense its arcane aura. However, before we could see what she knew, Eldur decided in that moment to vent out his frustrations, violently stabbing the being to death. Her screams reverberating through the cavern… it was awful. What’s worse is that a small part of me was relieved that it was her blood that was spilt rather than my own.
At this point, Valspira once more suggested we leave the cave posthate and complete our task- she believed that the malignant energy of the place was in part to blame for Eldur’s aggressive behaviour. With Mirik having found the beacon device during the aforementioned dispute (Along with a curious pentagram etched into the cave floor), we agreed that leaving was for the best. If circumstances had been different, I might’ve liked to take a peek at the arcane glyphs our druid friend was so entranced by… but at this point, I simply wanted to be done with it all.
By the time the lighthouse had been restored to working order, we could see that the storm was growing ever closer, the sea frothing and churning wildly. The boat ride back to the Walrus was turbulent, to say the least- on more than one occasion I felt a wave of nausea overcome me, yet I managed to refrain from making a scene. From there we reported our success to the Captain, who seemed quite pleased all things considered, especially with Iss’ performance. There was however something of a disagreement between ourselves and Ra’en- the question of ‘fair compensation’ came up again. Eldur (Who seemed to be back to his usual self) and I made our arguments, yet she was unmoved by our words. This business isn’t finished yet, but I think our only means in resolving this dispute lies in the arcane contract- something I’ve only begun to dissect.
I was physically ready to call it a night, but felt there was more work to be done. Besides reading over the convoluted contract for any loopholes, Iss, Mirik, and myself sought some peace in the sleeping quarters. Looking to glean some information about this dark orb, I tried to identify it…. But some unknown force repelled me from ascertaining its design. There was a flash of light, a vision of a glowing yellow eye, and then pain filled my mind, such that I could not complete the ritual. Mirik noticed this and commented that she had a similar reaction when trying to check the Blade of Azurumme. Another curious coincidence... or not.
After deciding to leave further investigation for another day, I was just beginning to wind down… and then Eldur came downstairs.
The three of us could immediately tell something was off- that slightly crazed, almost rabid look was in his eyes again. His voice was calm, but insistent, once more demanding I hand him the orb. The two of us quarrelled, and as it went on it grew apparent that, despite his implying that he didn’t wish to hurt any of us, that was the direction things were going. The situation was escalating… so plans had to be put into motion. I presented the lure- an illusionary duplicate of the orb, the real artifact kept safe in Iss’ bag. His eyes widened, arm stretching out to grasp it, and in that moment I took my chance, reaching out and making contact with the cursed blade, aiming to dispel the enchantment-
But it didn’t work. Neither did my arcane efforts to compel him to hand over the Blade to me. And when he grasped for the orb, only to have his paws pass through the illusion… his expression was downright murderous. The blood was pounding in my ears, fear gripping my muscles with paralysis. In hindsight, I can recognize that he probably wasn’t in full control of himself at that moment. Still, there is no doubt in my mind: if it weren’t for Iss and Mirik, he would’ve killed me then and there.
But the two of them intervened, standing by my side. Admittedly, I had asked Iss to accompany me for this very reason, but I was pleasantly surprised when Mirik also did so, firmly admonishing the rogue in the process. He didn’t take that too well, threatening that he’d be able to take out at least one of us if it came down to it. For a moment, I was certain it would come to blows… yet he seemed to think better of it (Or perhaps regained some degree of control over himself) and fled. Shortly thereafter Valspira came downstairs, informing us that he’s scampered off to the top of the ship’s mast. We in turn filled her in on what happened, the four of us contemplating how to proceed….
Of course, it’s at this most opportune moment that the meteor came crashing from the heavens.
The question is what to do about all this. Now more than ever, our priority must be reaching the crash site as expediently as possible. This is hardly the time to worry about internal disputes- yet one cannot brush aside these repeated incidents. Logically, the best course of action would be to remove the threat. Whether that means me (And perhaps the others, if they’re amenable) parting ways with Eldur in Slomvad, or else, and I can’t believe I’m even considering this… putting him in the ground. But I can’t help thinking there’s a better solution here, a way to break this weapon’s bond to the Tabaxi. Perhaps once that’s severed, one could actually talk some sense into him- as agitating as he is, the fool must have some wits about him if he’s lived this long.
And, if at all possible, I’d prefer to not bury any more travelling companions (As vexing as his presence has been at times). It’s worth discussing with the others and getting their opinions… or perhaps I should try to convene with Ioun. I think that I’m very much in need of some guidance.