Ferryman’s Log, Selected Excerpts (Late Auril-Mid-Raven Queen, 1223 P.C.)

21^st Auril. Ahhh. Nothing like soaking in a warm, salty bath to wash away the aches and stench of battle. The Genie Ayatayir’s magical mansion certainly seems to offer any comfort one can think of. Ari has instructed us to leave her undisturbed while she enjoys what she called a “revitalizing aromatherapy spa,” and Pantaghion is amusing himself with some of our genie-friend’s ethereal attendants. Even as we three drink deeply (so to speak) at the fountain of pleasure, I can’t get rid of a lingering sense of guilt: knowing that we left our other companions behind somewhere in the bowels of the material plane, facing who knows what horrors. How unfair life is—or rather, how radically our divergent paths depend on capricious fate. I was thrilled to have assumed the form of a giant eagle for the first time, and yes, its speed was critical in securing the genie’s horn for our party, but ultimately, the fact that I’m relaxing in safety is because I happened to be at the right place at the right time—Ayatayir transported the three of us here as I was trying to fly Ari and Pantaghion to safety.

But enough. We have discussed with Ayatayir the best way to reunite with our friends as soon as he is able to plane shift again. No point worrying further now. 

Perhaps my mind—my heart—is ill at ease in part because—for the first time in many days, I have not heard from Caedmon. He was planning to set off for Dranseri soon (today?) Please Corellon don’t let anything happen to him on the journey there. The earth-shattering tremors and other extreme elemental forces that we witnessed at Tyer-Besil were reaching a scale that could well affect travelers on the Long Road. [large water stain]

There. I’ve fashioned a separate little pool of water for the staff. I guess it was a mistake to think that it would content itself with soaking its tentacles at the edge of the tub. I try to be as considerate towards it as one would be towards a living sea creature, but that will teach me not to let it get too close while I’m bathing. The logbook is a little damp but should dry out quickly with the help of my trusty water cantrip. This is a good reminder, however: the growing vigor of Dagon’s Reach—the wicked look of the blade that the tentacles now encircle—are a cause for concern, and one that I must raise with my more learned friends when the opportunity arises.

22^nd Auril. The accommodations here at the Hall of Heroes are delightful—tastefully but not ostentatiously appointed, and comfortable in every respect of the word. I cannot wait to show Caedmon our room. He has seen much more of the realm than I, true, but even he would be impressed, I think! 

Our room. It is ridiculous how much pleasure I derive from a mere phrase. As excited as I am at the prospect of Caedmon’s beloved presence pervading this space, my exhilaration is tinged with a sense of melancholy: I will not be here to welcome him, most like. For this reason I have left him a note together with the lyre snatched from the medusa’s lair—that should offer him some diversion while he awaits our return.

What a day it has been! Our joy at being reunited with our companions—our return to Dranseri to find the atmosphere of the city altogether altered, suffused with a tension and sense of impending conflict—our audience with the Queen herself and her royal council. I still cannot quite get over it. I am used to serving nobility from when I worked at my uncle’s inn, but I have never had occasion nor opportunity to speak to them as an equal. 

To be sure, we were not on equal footing with the Queen or her council members during our audience with Her Majesty, but they did treat us with dignity and made a sincere request for our help. Ari and I did much of the speaking and it felt like we were having a genuine dialogue—a completely novel experience for me. 

Characterized by a solemn and regal beauty, the chamber in which we met with the Queen almost had the air of a temple, though the individuals assembled there revealed its purposes to be secular rather than religious. To see the gathered splendor of Dranseri’s leaders was truly an impressive sight: from the ethereal beauty of the Queen and her children to the palpable wit and wisdom of the Coinmistress, it is hard to justice to them all in words, and especially with so little time. One council-member did make a particular impression on me—Caedmon would say, teasingly, that this is because of General Krom’s preternaturally handsome appearance—but it is more than that. His was the expression of a hunter—reminiscent of the hungry air with which some noble visitors to Talpin sometimes viewed my cousin Marina. 

I must stop here, for tomorrow we rise early to track the Drow who are allegedly responsible for desecrating the Temple of Selûne. Nevertheless, I shouldn’t forget to record our visit to the Bung Hole, where we faithfully delivered Jarrod’s cryptic message to the blue-skinned Zilloa, a crusty character who seemed highly suspicious of our motives. Poor Jarrod! I hope he made it out of the Tyer-Besil safely. What a vicious crowd he seems to have been mixed up with. But we were able to deliver his message and exit the Bung Hole without too much hassle—aside from Val getting knocked out by the potent brew that she ordered.

15^th Raven Queen. Although the weather outside is cold in the extreme, and we lay our heads to rest on a simple pallet bed with only the most basic comforts, the sight of Caedmon sleeping peacefully besides me fills my heart with a wild kind of joy. The circumstances we now face must seem so strange to him, so drastically different than his life as an itinerant performer, and yet he remains so optimistic and loving a companion. I have looked up to Caedmon (as my childhood protector) for as long as I can remember, and it seems that this will not change in spite of his relative unfamiliarity with the arts of war. It did feel a little peculiar—like a kind of role-reversal—when I had to argue strenuously with him to take my ring of protection. He finally conceded—but as if he were doing it more for my peace of mind than because he recognized the wisdom of my suggestion. Firm in his convictions, as usual! Perhaps I should not jinx myself, but since I’ve started falling asleep in his embrace, even the recurring nightmares seem to have somewhat abated.