Having been moved five years ahead of my time is scary. I should be 23 now, but I am only 18. The fey wilds scare and interest me at the same time.
Things are so not what I am used to here. From walking machines,huge thunderous things that have been called cannons. What the hell is a cannon? I have gotten my worth for joining the crew I am with now. We do not belong here.
Kord had been my driving light since I was young. I now don’t know if he really exist or if he has closed his eyes on me. I don’t feel my faith as I used to when I was back on Lotic island. I know he must be there since Rallack and Ashkor believe in him something crazy. I am learning that there is many more gods than what I was told and believed in while I was growing up.
For me, I think it may be time that I step back and see things more simply. In other words, Removing my magic items from me and start back with general gear and rely solely on my strength, brain, and allies. Not so much on what I wear now.
—from the journal of Kriv Obslain
Ashkor sat with me on watch for a time. The Dragonborn has a lot on his mind. Possibly in a bad way.
Met up with Blackwater Adventure Co. again. I thought their “air ship” had been destroyed. Couldn’t believe it when I saw them lowering from the sky.
Everyone asleep. A trick of the eyes perhaps…there are shapes moving in the snowstorm…
Wonder what Inara would think. No. Don’t go there. The Raven Queen is cold, but just. Death visits all doors. Even those closest to mine.
A lot has happened over the past seven hours. Protected a caravan of civilians from a decisive attack. Necromantic filth. It was my joy to eradicate such blasphemies from the face of the earth. The creatures were automatons—hellbent on one single purpose: to get past us and to the people we were protecting. Something is controlling them. Some ill breath on the wind gave them speed and determination. Pray I never find out who, for their sake.
I came around a caravan to see Dark-eyes about to deliver the coup de grace on the cleric. Some dispute over Tiamet and Bahamut, as it turns out. The gnome should thank me. He was a heart beat away from the grave…
We are moments away from Havenkeep. I will depart. I’m not certain this city has forgotten who I am. I am not certain they are friendly.
—from the journal of Ayden Cahan