It’s lonely on this road. I’ve heard of sorcerors putting wizards putting their spells
in liquid form, so I gave it a shot. Turns out I can. I simply cast the spell on swamp water
and lets it boil and after some time, the spell is imbued in the new potion. Unfortunately
I’ve only got one wineskin, so I can’t save the potion. I’ll need to pick osme up.
It appears I’ve gone the wrong way. I’ve never seen these lands before. The ground is much
more wet. Almost like a marsh. Perhaps I’m near a place of water. A lake or stream or river.
These humans have so many names for waterways. Lake or stream should be enough.
How is Pond more clear than “small lake”. This grimy language is inane.
I did it. I was threatened and I didn’t just flee. I fought. Probably helps that I was grimy
starving and it was a small boar. And that I snuck up on it. And that I my wineskin was full of
Curing potion. When I saw the boar, i was burrowing about, as if for truffles. I hit him with
my Burning Hands spell and ran THEN I ran and hid behind a tree. The boar chased me, but by then
I had Vanish and he was unable to see me. Of course, he could still smell me and I got a bunch of
tusks in my thigh. Instintively I touched it and it began to laugh. A laughing boar!
I’ll never forget that. After a few more rounds of fiery spells, the boar was not only
dead, but fully cooked. That was the best night in a long time.
The Feasting Hall
I take it back. THIS was the best night in a long time. I’m in a bed, in a house, with a full
belly and stories to dream about. I found a hill and climbed it for a better vantage point.
Nearing the summit, I spied a door in one of the rocks. Approaching it, it opened for me
with no prompting. Inside, I met men of valor. Women of courage. There was a glow about them
as if their joy was a small aura, in the same way each of us has one of arcana. I learned the story
of Torykk the barbarian, who slew a troll with the bone of it’s fallen brother. I heard a song
by Drais the druid who’s beautiful notes spoke of rescuing the orphans from an evil priest.
My favorite however was another gnome. A wizard named Zook who battled his allies in a tournament
and in a moment of brilliance, shapeshifted a lion into a sheep to end a battle. The ale and
food awere top notch and I’ll sleep well this night. I’ve even snuck a few of the smaller jars from the kitchen
into my pack. I’ll use them for potions later.
These jars are fantastic. I’ve got curing potions, vanish potions, armor potions, even a gag one
that will rotate glowing orbs around your head. When I return to Oleg’s I’ll see if he can sell some of them.
The Silver Tongue
My recorder was put to the test today. As I slept a group of bandits came upon my camp with
devious intentions. I told them to wait, and offered my self as a slave and jester to make
money for them. The naivete of bandits. Once I began playing they were completely fascinated.
And that’s when I disappeared. Unlike the boars, bandits can’t smell you out
The Trading Post
And I’m back. Things have changed a lot in these 3 months. There are far more people here and the
group I came with seems to be in charge. Let’s see what this future holds.