Dear Diary,
After the strange events of the past few days, I feel compelled to keep a record of my travels. When I say that lately my life has been strange, I would be understating. This will take a while to write, I suspect.
Three days ago, I arrived at the small trading post of Otoros with nothing more than my bag, my cloak, my bow and arrows, and the clothes on my back. I had been traveling for a full year... sometimes I think that it was unwise to leave my parents at the Enclave. However, there's no use lamenting that now. The forests and the Great Library of the Elves are beyond me. It was hardly my fault that I was born a sorcerer, and if they cannot understand that, I was right to have left.
Completely destitute, I had little to do but sleep in trees and look over my maps in the tavern. It is now that I realize that I should have planned this whole affair out in advance... My plan was to go out into the world and prove that Sorcerers are not the power-crazy idiots my father makes them out to be, but I should have thought about how I was to accomplish this feat.
So, when that man burst into the inn, yammering on about goblins and lost cargo, I had to take the oppertunity. I had nothing left to lose, exept perhaps Thestel. But a fox familliar is hardly much to lose.
The man was immediately confronted by a dwarf with a loud, persausive voice. I regret to say that I shrank. I had no experience with dwarves, and a rather swarthy-looking rogue in the corner was giving me the eye. The only inquiry I made was as to what sort of goods the man was transporting.
The cargo was magical goods-- a promising reward. If anything, I could possibly sell any spoils later and continue on my way. I slipped outside just as I heard another loud voice triumphantly explaining to the population of the bar that the goblins would trouble them no more.
As I suspected, a small party emerged from the tavern, consisting of the armored dwarf, the irrespectable-looking man, the somewhat delusional man with a pike (possibly some political figure, from the absurd delivery of his declaration?) and another dwarf that was leading them. It was stormy and hard to see, but I was a bit downwind and I could smell the stench of liquor on him. It was a wonder that he was leading them in a straight line.
For a while, I followed quietly. At first, they didn't notice, but when they did, they said nothing. I... was shy. In the past, nothing good had come from speaking up. Nobody ever seemed to take me seriously or even listen to what I had to say. But then again, I cannot blame them. I may be 119 years old, but I'm barely an adult by my own standards. And by their standards, I appear to be hardly more than a child-- elf or no.
Everybody seemed to introduce themselves on the way there, even the loudmouth politician who lagged behind. I said my name, but nothing else. Even if it was dark, the drunken dwarf (I later learned his name was Polmund) was all waving at us to be silent, and rightly so. We soon found goblins in the dark, and my very long night began.
I am not a very combative elf. I would much rather talk things out than fight, but with goblins, that was not an option. So, calming down Thestel, I readied my bow and aided this ramshakle party.
Needless to say, I didn't hit a single target. Ugh. I hadn't practiced in a while, so my shots were just a little wide. I would simply have to practice as I went along.
What really disturbed me were the tunnels. The goblins aparrently hid out in booby-trapped tunnels that were as smooth as smooth could be. Obviously magic-made. I couldn't determine what could have made it, but the overly-egotistical armored dwarf (his name was Dolthin) mumbled something about dragons. I seriously doubt that.
So, after the seedy thief (Vincent, and I wish I had never met the man) determined that he could not disarm the traps we found, we simply jumped over them.
At our next encounter of seven goblins, I grew a bit fed-up with my bow and decided to try out a trick I had learned on my own a bit ago-- I sent a few of the goblins to sleep. Easy kills for the rest. Polmund seemed impressed and a bit more sober than before, which was relieving to me. I was scared out of my mind about that drunken dwarf, but he didn't seem all bad at the moment.
Thus ensued a few more hijinks with traps and a bizarre flame-operated lift. And lo and behold, at the bottom of his rat hole, was the king of the rats. I was feeling that I was getting the hang of this killing-things buisness, as much as I disliked it, so I decided to do my best to end the battle. I shot a magic missile at the goblin chief through the furious assault of the others and stayed back as the rest of them handled the goblins.
That is, until I saw the opening. It was so wide, just for a moment, and I lifted my bow and nocked my arrow, aiming clear at the staggering chieftan's head. It hit. Oh, powers above, it hit straight between the eyes. I don't take any happiness from killing others, but there is a sort of unholy joy that washes over you as you fell your foe, especially a foe you know is ruthless and unjust.
But it was only like that for a moment. The next thing I knew, I was face-up and seeing stars. Aparrently, in the time that I shot the arrow, a goblin had broken past the main line and buried his morningstar in my guts. The only reason I survived was the grace of the drunken Polmund's heart and the holy power of the politician Gustav.
Although the other dwarf Dolthin tries to win my favor, it is Polmund, that sotted woodsman that I owe my gratitude, my respect, and my life.
Gathering the stolen goods (and Polmund's brand new keg of spirits), we made our way to the exit... though the heavens felt to make life as difficult as possible by producing a hoarde of kobalds to bother us. A long battle, a grease spell, and and an incredibly lucky manuver on my part (I tripped a kobald stealing our recovered goods with a rock via a simple flourish of prestigitation! ) we made our way back to Otoros.
Oh, I'm tired. But I've gained a few new friends (I think?) and a new road to travel on. The spoils were great, and I think I see a dawn on my horizon!
That is, if I can get this creepy thief away from me. Ugh.
Signed,
Morwynn Ashefoxxe
Tags: Morwynn Ashefoxxe Otoros Krave Terroth
