Dearest Caedmon, How brightly the moons shine tonight! Selûne glows pale and full, while Io gleams with a pink halo, the shape of a bronze scythe. Nights like these remind me of the lunar festivals we used to enjoy on Talpin, where the Moon Goddess, the mistress of the tides, is so highly esteemed. Do …
Tag Archives: Mysteries of Arklan
Agenar’s journal, page 229
Tymora travels with us. Not only did she smile on our return to The Glade, letting us traverse the way in a single day’s marching, she also granted Tilia’s caregiver the wisdom to save not only the furbolg’s right arm, but her life. Without his ministrations, she would have, very soon, been reduced to dust. …
Agenar’s journal, page 227
And two days later, I found myself underground. The Stone Circle is, it seems, site of something more sinister. Beneath the alter-stone, which was covered in blood – presumably that of the injured man Tilia spoke to, the reason we came here – we found a staircase leading into a dwarfish complex. The first chamber …
Agenar’s journal, page 226
Tonight the group gathered at the Apple to make plans: tomorrow we travel west, to the great Stone Circle in the Wood. Afterward, Wynlynn dragged Val off to wherever they sleep, so I went to bed relatively early, and relatively sober, where slumber soon found me waiting. Tymora holds out a coin, face up, and …
Agenar’s journal, page 224
Woke next to Val today, on a lumpy straw mat in the room above Yeoman’s Apple. Seems the barkeep made the standard assumption that a man and woman who spend all day drinking together and fall asleep in each other’s arms require only a single pallet upon passing out. “Well, isn’t this embarrassing,” I kicked …
Agenar’s Journal, page 220
“What in the Dragon’s name is that?” “This will help.” Val, who just shook me awake, holds out her flask. I take it and drink deeply; the ale soothes my throat. Returning the flask, I ask again, “What is that?” I am slumped across an empty barrel that smells like the ale I just drank, …
Ferryman’s Log, Entry #1, 11th Day of Mielikki
Dawn on the river. Everyone’s asleep, except Val, who was gone even before I stirred to check on the boat’s course—an early morning hunting expedition? How playfully the little wavelets shimmer in the early morning light! How tranquil the beauty of these woody streams, so distinct from—and yet in some ways just as alluring as—the …
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