Chronicle of the Withered Seas

The author of this particular chronicle is one Teská Nefrette, yours truly, being a plain-spoken elven woman of the sea.

Now to be clear, I am not the sort of elf that spends all its time underwater, and I certainly doen't have gills. I swim alright, certainly better than you my dear reader, but water is not my natural element. No, I am what men commonly call a "golden elf," one of a race of elves famous for its seamanship. Legends tell of great fleets lashed together out on the open sea, and of long-lived souls that never set foot on anything more solid than the deck of a well built ship. Your legends pale in comparison though my friend, as a child raised on the decks of those very ships can promise well and sure. I would certainly call the sea my home, but truth be told, it is the surface of the sea with which I am most familiar. From the nursery ship on which I spent my childhood to the battleships on which I was trained, to the odd vessel I now calls my home, I have spent virtually my entire life aboard a ship of one kind or another.

If modesty permits, let me say this, that I have never been lacking in the gift men call intelligence. Amongst my own people, the gifts of my judgement were noticed early. Tutors lobbied hard to win my interest for a variety of pursuits, and indeed the proponents of Wizardry had almost won my heart at an early age. Sstill, the craftsmen who built our vessels always had an edge in the fight for my loyalty, and spellbooks never held so much magic for me as the shape of a rudder or the design of a sail. In then end, I took up the crafts of a shipwright and a weaponsmaker, seeking to add my own craft to the fleets which keep my people dry and happy.

Having never learned a spell, I was taught to use a spear and a crossbow at an early age. This is no great matter as it is incumbent on all golden elves to learn these weapons, at least if they have no other combat skills to boast of. I mean to brag, for sure, but near every crewmen on one of our ships is a fine marxman, and near every crossbow is a work of art for which the land-bound would gladly pay a high price. When one of our ships takes to reducing an enemy crew to its watery grave, it seldom takes more than a pass or two with every sailor on our boats doing his finest. To see a Golden Elf vessel pick apart an enemy crew is a work of art which few visitors to the sea have witnessed and lived. So, the choice of my weapons was hardly a stroke of brilliance on my part; it is what was to be expected.

Apart from a little more accuracy than my seagoing companions could normally boast, my martial skills were quite normal. I might have regretted if only for a moment, neglecting my studies in magic, but in my adolescance I took up the role of a common deck-hand, and a warrior. I have always helped to craft weapons and to repair the vessels on which I sail, but these are common skills in my kind, skills of which I was in my youth but a little more adept than the average sailor. I am skilled and I am competent to handle many tasks, but I am no leader, and I am no hero. To this day, in the thick of battle, I will hold my own, but I am not the core of the fight.

In my younger days I had thought I might lead a normal life, at least as measured by my own kind. In recent times, however, I have stumbled into oportunities I had never thought imaginable. I now travel with an unusual crew on unusual mission. It is no noble affair that I am presently pursuing, but it is a powerful thing to this humble sailor and craftswoman to have taken part in the extraordinary events which I am about to relate.

Before embarking on the effort to describe the better part of my adventures, I must first address a certain prejudice. I do not mean to speak of prejudice on the part of someone else my gentle reader, we will not be gossiping about the failings of other people's minds here in these next few paragraphs. Instead, I must be very clear and to the point with you. It is your prejudice of which I speak, you, the very person reading these words at this very moment. What great bigotry, you may ask, lurks in your soul for me to point and accuse? Yes, you may ask this. And fair enough, I do not mean to be unnecessarily cruel, but I fear you will not travel much further with me if we do not first cross a very real and very serious hazard which awaits us at the outset of the journey. The hazard of which I speak is your own expectation, your own sense of who your narrator ought to be and what she ought to do in her stories.

I fear my dear reader - and do not be too quick to assure me otherwise - that you will be expecting me to talk of battles against Ogres, to tell tales of victorious conflict with miserable orcs, or perhaps even to boast of victories against goblins, dragons, and such. Do you wish me to tell you that I and my companions have saved villages or rescued damsels in distress? Should my story end with a land freed of its greatest foes, a people eagerly awaiting an era of peace and tranquility? No, my friend, that is the prejudice of which I speak, and if this is your expectation, you will soon think me an unjust and terrible narrator, ...this at the very least.

I must tell you at the outset that I do not travel with humans, at least not many of them, and I do not (for the most part) traffic with fair elves, brave dwarves, or clever gnomes. My sole hobbit friend is not the sort to save your world from some terrible demonic foe, and he certainly wouldn't do it at the expense of his own life. Charon will escort the dead by foot accross a frozen river Styx before I and mine save the day for the innocent victims of a Danish troll. No, my friends, the Minotaurs in my stories fight beside me against the noble heroes of your own, as do the orcs, the goblins, the ogres, and even the shark-woman who swims beneath our vessel. The other elves on my ship are (with one exception) quite dark of both hue and heart. We do indeed have humans among our crew, and a high elf or two, as well as other creatures you might find comforting and loveable. But since we are unlikely to meet, and since I want you to understand matters full well, let us be clear about this, the fair races on my ship are none other than those you would call traitors. You would not wish to meet them on the high sees anymore than you would want to fall within grasp of the Ogre stomping across our deck. Let niether you nor I shrink from this one very important fact, those which whom I sail are the villains of your stories, and they are villains well and true.

So, you have a decision to make, don't you? Will you sail with me, so to speak while I relate dreadful deeds and terrible conquests? Or will you wince in fear at the death of so-called innocents? It is your choice to make, but do not say that you were not warned. I am no hero, and neither are those I count as my friends. To us kindness is but a strategem, and if we have regrets for our misdeads it is but a longing to have committed many more. If we do a good deed today, it is only that we will do a greater ill tomorrow.

I will not apologize for my choice, though I have to admit it was indeed a choice to make. It is by no means written on my soul that I must side with villainy and sail against the hopes of the gentle and just. I could as easily have sailed with kinder friends, as I have most certainly done in days well past. To board a ship with such heineous villains was my choice, and it is one I most certainly do not regret.

But be sure of another thing here my friend, I will not humor your judgement of my soul. I am unimpressed with human justice. The kindness of common elves does nothing for me, and the gentle meekness of hobbits gives me cause to part with my latest meal. I could easily point to the injustices of slaughtered orc villages, or trolls slain without so much as a moment of pity. What, I could ask, is the reason for waking a dragon that sleeps a hundred years, only to slay it in defence of a city that was perfectly safe so long as the wyrm slumbered? I am continually amazed at the foolishness of human heroics, and the moral magic of two-faced story-tellers genuinely sickens me to the core. Your greatest and most glorious can accuse me of naught but a weaker sword grip. Were I a stronger warrior, had I slain more in my day, perhaps I would rewrite this whole story and tell you that I am savior to a race of innocent fey. Such stories go down easily with a pint of ale, especially when all who would gainsay them are already dead and easly libelled in their graves.

I could count me and mine as heroes if I wanted to my friend, the pen in my hand would as easily ink the story in such a manner as not. But that will not happen as I haven't the gall to pretend to the glories of your favorite heroes. No, I will tell you my tale as honestly as I can. It is not a tale of heroics, not one of great deeds, but of adventure just the same. You will need a strong heart and a strong stomach to continue on dear reader, for I will claim your loyalty, just as any other storyteller you have seen. I will claim your loalty and I will take it to dark lands and places of woe. And I will ask you to stand beside me as each episode is resolved, but nor for the betterment of all, not for the cessation of suffering, and certainly not for the feeling that justice has been served.

I wll take you to new places and I will relate to you stories of great conflict, but we must be clear you and I, in this story goodness and justice will not emerge victorious, at least not if I am still here to write the final chapter.

Please forgive me my dear reader as a watch bell rings and the Crow's Nest calls. I will return to tell you how I first came to the vessel which I now call home. This and many other stories will I relate upon my return. Sleep now and know that for the present, the horrors at which I have hinted are still far and away at sea. For the moment, at least, you are safe, from my pen as well as my sword.

All right my dear friend, you have certainly been warned about the direction of our little adventure. Let us now get on with the matter. How, you might ask, did I come to such company? The story has humble beginnings to be sure. In fact the story will remain a humble one for quite a stretch. One has to slay hobbits before she can cast fear on kingdoms, that is just the way of it.

To the heart of the matter, I came upon the people that I now call friends while seeking a bit of adventure. There lies to the North a small island, set unfortunately between two great warring kingdoms, and on this isle, there is much confusion about who is to rule what region and by what law. Not to put too fine a point on the matter, I travelled to the shores of this island in the hopes that I might enjoy the fruits of piracy. Few parts of the known world present better opportunities for piracy than the “Northern Clash,” and after years of tiresome work on peaceful sailing ventures I thought to try my hand in more troublesome waters. Little did I know just how troubled those waters would prove to be.

At this point, I must entreat your patience my dear reader, for I have only begun this story many months into the adventure. I have a number of things to tell you, and I must tell you these things rather quickly before my story can become the true journal that it should be. Please forgive the brevity of the next few entries; for they will lead to longer and more thoughtful narratives in the future.

...so, upon reaching the Northern Clash, I quickly found my chosen vessel to be a hostile and unhappy place. This great pirate ship’s dreadful captain was, it seems, wary of the mildest fishing vessel. He fled from the mighty navies of the northern kingdoms on but the slightest of encounters. Indeed he fled from such encounters even before they had occurred, and in point of fact, I suspect that he fled from them in his dreams, as it were, always seeking to hide his pathetic carcass further and further from the site of those with a flag and a sword. In the few months aboard this terrible vessel, I found we had sailed well north of the human kingdoms which vie for control of the island. We traded the fruits of past conquests with local villages of orcs and goblins (...and let me now just say that those conquests seem as unlikely to me at this point as the prospect that our noble captain would scrub his behind in the wake of his morning reverie). After many months it appeared that my greatest adventure was to be the task of fending off the advances of my own captain, and the most daunting adventure we had ahead of us was the labour of repairing the docks of a small orc village. ...or perhaps it was eating the food fed to us by orcs in lieu of payment for the task. To the best of my understanding, we were pirates only in the sense that we were no longer fit for polite company.

Needless to say my friends, this was not the vessel of my dreams, but to my surprise one of the wretched creatures we had come north to do business with made me a personal offer. If I was to join in a larger venture, an orc shaman offered to bail me from the company I was then keeping. This shaman spoke to me of a powerful magic which threatened to fall into the hands of “the wrong evil” as he put it. The local powers that be (i.e. the drow nobles living deep in a nearby cavern) had begun to assemble an expedition to thwart not one but 2 rivals and secure this mysterious power for ourselves. (Did, I say, "ourselves," my friends? I am sorry, I meant to write that our patrons had sought to secure the powerful magic in question for "themselves." Please do not make more of my poor penmanship than it is.) All very cryptic, but what would you expect from a spell caster, especially for this pig-witted reader of pidgeon-guts. (It's true, he couldn't afford a sheep.) Now mind you a business venture relayed by an orc shaman is always a dubious thing, but I could not stomach the thought of another night in the company of a certain dread pirate of the sea, and so I opted for the risk of a new venture.

I must confess that at this time I had already resolved myself to return to the fleets of my own kind at the first opportunity and to content myself with standing a watch and scrubbing a deck as my kind has done since time out of mind. I had indeed turned my thoughts towards tamer times and softer ambitions.

But alas tamer times and softer ambitions were too prove unattainable in the short run, and thankfully so, as the old orc shaman turned out to be a good source indeed. I soon found myself waiting with a shark woman on the shore of of a small and isolated bay, only to be joined by a human scout and a High Elven sorcerer both of whom were to be of assistance in the unfriendly ports of humankind.

And herein lay our first real adventure my friends, because, it seems that so many elves and humans in orc territory should not loiter about, nor indeed should they travel unaccompanied. We were soon assaulted by a war party full of the filthy creatures, filthy creatures who I might add were SUPPOSED to have been our own allies. Still they had no way of knowing and they came with an ogre and a powerful winged Minotaur covered in blue scales. (I am told that some of these details vary with the usual appearance of such creatures, but as I have never seen another minotaur, I shall have to withold my judgement on the matter.) Hardly had these creatures made an appearance when a battle broke out, and must confess my friends, my own part in this chapter came to a quick end. A single orc delivering the very first blow of the incipient battle was, it seems, quite sufficient to put me out for the balance of that fateful event, and I only awoke several days later to find that the Minotaur had turned tables on the pig-men who brought him along. He was now one of our own, as were a host of other creatures. If memory serves, we had already been joined by a nixie, 2 lizardmen (one of them small), and a number of other creatures and persons, including at least one drow. We were to fight one more battle with the local colour, and suffice it to say they faired rather poorly against us.

Our next task it seems was to secure our own ship as the patrons who had gathered us did not actually purchase one at all. That you would think might be the most important step in the process of launching a naval campaign, but that is not how our own patrons work. No, they had seen fit to purchase a bit of gossip whispered into the right ear, just enough to lure a ship of pirates to the bay which presently served as our resting place. The ship, we were assured was ours well enough, just as soon as we took it from the plague of fair-skinned humans currently infesting its worthy decks. Our efforts to accomplish this task proved, I must confess, quite unworthy of the narrative I would hope to tell. Indeed, the ship was to get away.

During the ensuing ambush (ours mind you), we managed to assemble ourselves in a convenient circle, just large enough to accommodate the great ball of fire which issued forth from the decks of our would-be prize. Our shark-woman who had thought to climb up the anchor chain of the vessel was speared off the very side of the ship, speared by the tongue a great gaurdian fish which proceeded to swallow her whole. (She was to claw herself free in due time, but truth be told, I do not think my friend has ever quite recovered from the shame of it.) Still another fish unleashed a barrage of missiles from its tail every time it jumped out of the water. And if that were not enough, an Ogre which had joined our crew just before this fateful battle managed to catch one of our own in his fearsome back swing, slaying one fine stout orc in single moment of distraction. That we slaughtered the enemy shore party is small consolation indeed. We lost 3 of our own that day and negotiated a shameful peace with those we had hoped to enslave. The pirate ship was to sail off a little lighter than she had been on her first appearance, but more to the point, she sailed off without the brand new pirate crew which had been assembled on shore for her benefit.

Now some of you may have experienced the shame of explaining to your employer some small failure, some petty disaster, we have all been there. Such a miserable experience is not made merrier when one serves the interests of a powerful drow Wizard, let me tell you. The next weeks were an uncomfortable experience for all. We were eventually told that our hopes for sailing rested on the appearance of a second ship of a royal navy which was to be lured to the same spot in the hopes of capturing the very pirates we had earlier assailed. We were told to expect our new quarry within a month’s time.

Instead we travelled South and attacked a village of Hobgoblins, taking the fishing vessel which was to serve their needs for the winter. Mind you, the Hobgoblins were supposed to have been allies, but our leaders reasoned the greater need was to get to sea as quickly as possible and join in the grand hunt of the day. One can only hope that our patrons saw fit to help the Hobgoblins through their coming need.

...or not to hope for them at all. Honestly, who gives a damn?

A little ways out we traded ships with the royal expedition which had been lured to our vicinity. At least we traded our long boats for their ship, at least with the survivors. I seem to recall sinking the one we had taken from the Hobgoblins. Those harbouring any sympathies for the hobgoblin donors of our first vessel may content themselves with the thought that the few human survivors were headed for shore somewhere in the vicinity of the village.

And with this rather hurried account, my friends, I have finished the first chapter in our story. Our ship was now at sea and we were on our way. Just where we will going, that will have to wait for the next instalment. Until ten...

Now my friends, I must relate a little more of the larger purpose behind our adventure. At least, I must tell you what I myself know of that larger purpose, which is not much than you, and I fear, not much less than the people behind our little venture. We know that a powerful creature emerged from a cavern on the Northern Clash, one known as the Cave of the Leftward Dragon. We know that this creature brought a small army up from the depths below and marched under cover of darkness straight out to the shoreline where it met with a fleet of ships. We also know that few locals were able to witness anything but the orc legions which constituted the flanking guards of this army. And we know that this fleet of ships set out in search of a great and powerful source of magic. What that magic is, we do not know, but we have reason to believe it is the sort of magic which will shift the balance of powers in our world.

This story is so far pretty standard ground is it not, a great power, an evil archenemy, and a fleet of evil ships. For the sake of convenience, let us call the latter, the “black fleet.” That should suffice to trigger all the good guy bad guy motifs with which you are no doubt familiar. But of course we are not the good guys in this story; someone else is. We also know that a small ship of would-be heroes has set out in search of the evil fleet. If you are looking for heroes in this story, that would be the crew of this other ship, we’ll call them the Heroes, or as my drow friend is prone to call them, the “useful idiots.” If the would-be heroes on this other ship are able to weaken our enemies so much the better, but of course, we do not wish for them to get the magic either. We want it for ourselves, or at least for our patrons.

We have one rather nifty piece of magic in our own bag of tricks. It is a compass which points to the last port in which the flagship of the black fleet has docked or dropped anchor. It doesn’t help us much when this ship is at sea, but it will point us to the last place they have landed, and frankly that is fine by me. I am not prepared to meet the kind of enemy we are talking about today, and with the possible exception of our flying minotaur and the ogre, I don’t believe that many of my companions are either. Better to learn a bit more about them and develop our abilities. A final and glorious battle is a wonderful aspiration to have, but it is one I am happy to leave as an aspiration, at least for now.

So, what happens next? Well the compass points us to a small island which barely makes it on the best maps of the known world. It was to the best of everyone’s knowledge uninhabited, or at least no kingdom flies it’s flags there and no known human settlements can be found on its shores. After first sailing around the island to see if we see anything interesting, we navigate our way into the small bay on it’s western shores. And then the fun begins...

As we drop anchor in the bay my shark woman friend, Nahala, surfaces and reports that small humanoids are following us about at a considerable distance. She is joined by the Nixie whose name escapes me (honestly, she looks so small and fragile, I just don’t see much need to learn her name), and the two of them set about investigating the bottom of the bay.

Well to make a long story short, they discover that a kelp forest out further in the bay has grown up around the skeletons of many dead sailors, most of whom appear to have lost the top of their heads. The creatures following us about turn out to be a monkey like creature with a playful demeanour. At first we thought they might be some form of shrimp, but no, they are monkeys. Some of them attempted to board our ship at some point, others took to bringing copper pieces up to play fetch with a random crew member. His arm was growing tired, and the whole game was becoming quite tiresome as Nahala caught and ate one of the annoying little creatures. They left us alone for a time after that.

So, the Captain sent off a party to explore the island. That party eventually discovered an extensive community of kobalds, all of whom appeared to have abandoned their homes in advance of our party. Our friendly flying minotaur was watching the ship when he sensed the presence of an invisible creature watching us from shore. On approaching the creature, he was stunned by some powerful force and fell into the water. he was not slain, but when the most powerful member of our entire party is rendered unconscious it is indeed cause for concern.

Needless to say our shore party was recalled - please excuse the speed of my narrative - events were moving quite quickly at the time, and I hardly recall much of the details. (For my own part I was stationed in the crow’s nest as the Captain thought it an apt place from which to utilise my rapidly growing marxmanship skills.) Upon reaching the bay, the shore party investigated the grounds from which we had been spied and discovered a human sized set of tracks just inside the tree line. The trackers guessed the individual had been watching us for some time, and his tracks moved just inland before disappearing altogether.

Having spent the day in frustration, we sailed away from the island and spent the evening at sea before returning the following morning. At this point, the party split up once more, and those of us onboard the ship were sent to sea. We were given instructions to sail North for a day and then return. In truth, my friends, I think the party leadership was simply trying to keep us out of harms way as all our more powerful members were left on the island to go hunting. Unfortunately this plan did not work at all.

Less than an hour out to sea, our ship was boarded and attacked by 3 lizardmen and 2 terrible creatures, the likes of which I had never before seen or even heard of. All of them had approached our ship completely invisible and flying through the air. Within a short time virtually every character on deck was staggering about as though drunk and the brains of our best cleric had literally been pulled out of his head. It was the best I do could from the crow’s nest to assist in the slaying of a single lizardman. That, combined with the efforts of what few companions had held onto their senses for a time were enough to slay all 3 lizardfolk and one of the terrible creatures, apparently the weaker of the two. Although I am myself rather fearful the last of these creatures could have slain us all, it apparently decided not to chance fighting on alone. This was my first experience with a creature I am told to call an “illithid,” and I hope ever to keep such experiences to a minimum for the balance of my time on this ocean. ...actually, I wouldn't mind it if we had one of those on our own side, but I certainly hope never again to face one in combat.

The shore party spent the night by the bay only to be attacked by the shadows of fallen sailors flying in from out in the bay. Possessing little in the way of magic weapons but quite a number of clerical powers, the shore party was able to fight the shadows to a stand-off, and little else came of the experience. In time the Aquamonkeys became more and more of a nuisance to the lone sailor who had been foolish enough to play with them. They brought him coppers, and silvers, and even the occasional broken bottle of an erstwhile potion. By the time we returned to the island, the shore party was as frustrated as our ship’s crew was fearful and sad.

We had been unable at this point to learn just what the black fleet had wanted with this unnamed and miserable island, and our ship’s captain wanted nothing further to do with these illithids. So, we resolved to sail away from the island and wash our hands of the place. On our way out of the bay, though, we passed over a wrecked ship and decided to investigate the matter. With the help of the Aquamonkeys we discovered several viable potions, a quiver of magical arrows and a great sword, all of which we were to learn were specially designed for the purpose of combat with the fearsome creatures which ruled this island. ...we learned this from a ghost that night as we sailed out to sea. It seems that a ship had sailed into the bay some time before in the hopes of confronting and slaying the illithids which ruled the island. Betrayed by one of its own crew, the ship had been sunk and its crew slain before they ever had a chance to clear their weapons. Now the ghost demanded that we return to finish the job as we had inherited the weapons which had been made for that purpose.

Reluctantly, we returned to a battle of epic proportions. As the shore party landed, they were greeted by 2 illithids, both of which used their primary powers before attempting to retreat. A swarm of kobalds then filled into finished the reeling landing party. I and others from the ship were able to slay one of the illithids by concentrating all the fire we had upon it. The second was unfortunately placed in between our Ogre and the Minotaur. Truth be told, it was dead before the battle began. Over the next coupe minutes we managed to kill exactly 350 kobalds. A small party of lizardmen positioned itself beneath our ship, along with a fearsome bundle of moving coral, but they seem never to have gotten the word to attack. The leader of the illithids attempted to weaken our party, successfully knocking quite a few of the landing party out of commission with its primary attack. It did this at the cost of several arrow wounds, enough apparently to trigger an immediate retreat.

Minutes later we negotiated (this time) an honourable peace with the illithids of that island. We left them the great sword which had apparently attracted the attention of our ghost from the night before, and in return we received 18 doses of a special powder. Adding this powder to the material components of arcane magic would, we were told significantly increase its power. This it turns out had been the purpose the visit from the black fleet. They had purchased significant doses of this Arcane Powder from the illithids and left the island for parts unknown.

We left the island feeling a sense of accomplishment. True enough our main enemy was still alive, but we had faced him down and forced concessions. Whereas we had once gratefully accepted a merciful peace from pirates capable of demolishing what was left of us, this time we had negotiated from a position of power. And we had negotiated from this position against an opponent that would frighten the strongest among most adventuring parties. Hardly a sweeping victory, but it was certainly an improvement over our previous efforts. Perhaps next time we would not need to negotiate with anyone at all.

As to the ghost and his noble ambitions, let him wield his own sword against the illithid. It is no concern of ours.

My friends, I have done telling you the elements of the back story, From this day forth my entries will be those of a true journal, related as soon after the actual events as I can find the time to get them on paper. As I write this, I am in my bunk at anchor in a human port. Our Minotaur friend is pacing the small quarters nervously and a goblin woman mopes in her own bunk. From the very next room I can actually hear my Ogre friend gritting his teeth. No-one is sleeping well at the moment, at least not until our larger companions collapse in their own exhaustion. For while I and the fair skinned among us are quite capable of setting foot in this human settlement, much of our crew has been forced to hide below deck or at least to keep their appearances above deck to a minimum. Their nerves are straining heavily even as I and others are enjoying a break.

It is amazing how difficult it is for the land loving to remain aboard a ship once land is in sight. The same brave souls who happily do their work while at sea can hardly restrain themselves when land tempts them from so little distance. Silly creatures to love land so much; it is a weakness and I pray it will not be our undoing. Still, we cannot afford the risk of being found out. The humans must not learn the nature of our crew, and still more importantly, they must not learn of our mission. The monsters among us will have to remain below deck until we can leave this port. More is the pity, that may be awhile.

This is apparently, the last place where the black fleet dropped anchor. We know that 6 or more ships sailed on past this harbour and that 6 of them dropped anchor out here in the bay well away from the docks. In all probability they keep their distance from the docks for the same reason that we are, to keep the humans from learning too much about the crew of their ships.

On first arriving in this port, we were greeted by a flunky to the harbour master while a sea elf investigated our ship from below. It is fortunate that Nahala, the shark woman, passes easily for such an elf herself, but it is less fortunate that we had not named our ship before pulling into port. The humans who were so kind as to surrender this ship to us in the wake of a rather bloody battle were never consulted on the matter, and it seems that several discussions never quite brought us to the point of an actual decision. When asked the name of our ship, our Captain, Xavier, told the harbour flunky that we were aboard the “Setting Sun.” Asked the same question by the Sea Elf, Nahala told him it was the “Real McCoy.” This has been a source of discomfort to the habour authorities and our Captain alike as already the harbour police have made 1 or 2 attempts to double check our stories. This little oversight may in time prove our undoing.

We have discovered the harbour is a ready source of masterwork weaponry. And while my own skills are rapidly approaching the level necessary to turn out such weapons, I cannot help but to admire the craftsmanship which is commonplace in this port.

We have also learned that drow are not welcome on these shores. After encountering hostility from locals, we had returned the 2 dark elves which came ashore to the ship. Still our crew has already earned a reputation, and a conflict with local ruffians ensued. This bit of local colour was so wonderful, so charming, it was almost a shame to execute the poor fellow begging for mercy at the end of this brief skirmish. “Drow-Lovers” we may be, but I know a few men who will not be muttering that bit of gossip in the alehouse tonight.

We are still unclear as to just what the black fleet was doing in this harbour, but there is time yet to learn the matter. We tried unsuccessfully to fashion a banner for ourselves on the way into the harbour, and it caused some confusion with the habour master. We have since commissioned 2 new banners from a kindly old elven lady in the fringes of the market center. The banners should be complete in another day or so, and we will certainly be asking a number of questions about the place. Most importantly, the human noble who joined us ever so recently (and there is quite a story to that, let me tell you) is beginning to recover from a terrible bout of "sea sickness." If he feels well enough in the morning we hope to send him out, and we shall see what he can do to improve our purposes in this place.

I am enjoying the human harbour, though I do not think many of my friends feel the same. To the humans, I am but an odd elf, one whose nature they cannot quite pin down. Still an elf in their eyes is a likely ally when facing an orc or an Ogre. Humans can be quite foolish about these sorts of things.

Well that is it, the Minotaur is beginning to calm down now and even the goblin lady in the next bunk is asking me to put out the light. (It's so pathetic; she actually said "please.") In any event, I grow tired myself. I will write to you again of our adventures in human territory. Until then...

We approached the dock in the early evening. Our mood was a light and pleasant and our shoulders heavy with supplies. It had been a full day of shopping, so to speak, and we had secured virtually everything on our wish list. We couldn't help but laugh as the Countessa tried to finish a story about a social event - some fabulous dinner - the likes of wich most of us could only imagine. She was interrupted constantly and humerously by (her Fiancé) the Baron's dry quips about this or that guest (most of whom he seemed to hold in contempt. How we had come to inherit the company of such high and might company was beyond me, but for the present they were a shear joy to have amongst us. And that was but the tamest of our entertainment. Our little Mary Sue Cleric dodged the seeking hands of not one but two companions only to land securely in the groping claws of a third. At this, chuckles turned to howls and at least one of my companions spewed a mouthful of wine into the air getting a drop or three on the living construct, who proceeded to complain of the dangers of oxidation or some other such magic. It was a fine evening.

In all this merriment, some of us, I suspect , had all but forgotten the rumours we had heard earlier in the day, rumours that someone had recently been touring the bars in search of mercenaries. That someone, so the rumours went, appeared to be in a hurry to put a force together. The city was bracing for trouble while we enjoyed a rare moment of luxury and comfort. And still, I couldn't help but notice our bounty hunter study the surroundings, as was his habit. Following his eyes up the dock, I could see all 3 of our boats lashed safely to the left side of the pier ("left" is the right word amongst the landbound. No?). A fishing boat rested on the far end, it's crew hastily offloading supplies. Behind us lay a span of open ground for about 50' followed by a maze of stores and warehouses. For just a moment, I couldn't help but imagine my role in some great ambush to take place at this very site. I envisioned myself, crossbow in hand firing from some remote location at victims caught on the very pier where I presently stood. The bounty hunter must have entertained similar notions as he studied the location. I smiled as I thought that he have known far better than I what a wonderful location this would be to set up an ambush.

And I hardly noticed the sound of water rippling just to the right of the pier. A fish or a bird perhaps? I was too busy laughing at the Cleric to care.

The scene unfolded quickly, and for a time I must confess, without much of a contribution on my part. One of my companions cast a spell upon herself in preparation for what I hadn't a clue. A few of my friends actually drew weapons, and for just a moment I imagined they were preparing to spar with one another. But by far and away the majority of our companions simply continued strolling and laughing up the pier as I stood there a moment failing quite miserably to grasp the significance of the sound I had just heard.

It was the head of a great axe that I saw first, swinging up out from our own boat and completing a swift arc just in front of the Countessa. Behind the axe emerged a human, covered in terrible scars and coated in a black oily substance. To see such violence unfold in utter and complete silence was a little strange, but with nary the sound of a slice or a squeak from its target I surmised that he had missed entirely. An incompetent foe. perhaps, I began to breathe a bit easier. And yet, the Countessa flinched anyway, doubling over in obvious fear. We would expect such weakness from one who had gained virtually all of her skills off the pages of a book. To see this new addition - one who held herself so high above the rest of us - cower in the face of simple close call, a small measure of contempt certainly crossed my mind. Our knight challenged the wild-eyed axe-wielder, and several party members began to to direct their attention toward the same foe. She would always need such protection, I surmised. So be it. I began to reach for a bolt.

In another instant, the sailors at the end of the pier proved themselves part of the same plot, unleashing 2 dogs on our druid/leopard as they drew weapons of their own and advanced down the pier toward us. And then, he appeared. Rising quickly from the water just to the right of the pier, a Sahuagin lept onto the docks. His demeanour was confident as he took up a position nearly alone in the center of our party. Without thinking, I muttered thanks to the gods that our Knight stood between me and this new threat. And just as I reached for a bolt to place in my crossbow, the Countessa turned ever so slightly, just enough to reveal her hands busily grasping at the intestines which threatened to pour forth from her body onto the deck. Twas not fear that had made her wince.

In the moments that followed our Druid was to dispatch a single dog and to wound the other. Someone in our party cast a spell and a single enemy warrior froze in place at the end of the dock. Others closed with the front of the group and began to fight. I fired a single bolt at the axe wielding mad man standing precariously in our own lifeboat and the results were less than encouraging. In those opening moments the Sahuagin took but a single action, simply reaching out to touch the Knight which, may I remind you, was the only thing betwixt myself and this foul creature. That was it, just a harmless touch to the face, and then the two-legged shark turned his attention to the Countessa which stood between him and the Axe Wielding madman standing on our boat. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that I still had at least one meat shield between myself and each our known enemy.

Partly a gasp for air, and partly a wail from pain such as I have never personally experienced (not yet, anyhow), the sounds which issued forth from the Knight in front of me was perhaps the most frightening thing I have ever heard my friends. In but a moment, he was to step backwards and out of the way, pale beyond belief due to some sickness I could only imagine. thoughts of his pain had only just occurred to me when they were drowned away by a more pressing concern, there was no longer anything between myself and the source of his misery.

But things were moving very quickly in the vicinity of the axe wielder. The Countessa stepped foreword extracting herself from between these two fearsome opponents and recovering somewhat as the result of healing arts exercised by our little Mary Sue (contemptibly cheerful, that little girl, but she has her uses). A warrior from our party, one who goes by the name of Blood Breather then jumped wholeheartedly onto the prow of the rowboat, slamming his weight down on its deck with all the force he could muster. It was a good plan, but in the unsteady moments which followed, the only person to lose his balance was Blood Breather himself. As Blood Breather fell helplessly onto the deck of the little boat, the Axe wielder stood fast and smiled a little at his new victim. Next, the Baron himself charged onto the boat, attempting to drive our foe into the water. But alas, the Baron slipped and fell onto the deck of the same little vessel, never quite reaching the object of his fury. And herein we finally received a stroke of luck as the foe lost his balance in the ake of the Baron's charge and fell backwards into the water. Weighted down by a chain shirt and showing all the swimming skills of a sick cow, he was to do not but struggle to keep his head above water for the balance of our encounter.

When she recovered a bit from her wounds, the Countessa produced a dark cloud over the warriors at the far end of the pier, and in but a moment each and every one of themwas reduced to quivering death throws. The remaining soul, who stood motionless, pitch fork in hand was driven off the deck and into the water by the leopard. Whether this poor soul drowned or somehow recovered from his dweomer, I do not know, but I like to think he is alive somewhere and having trouble with his dreams of late. Somewhere in the mayhem, an archer had unloaded a volley of arrows into our own best bowman, seriously wounding the obvious competition. A wall of wind proved sufficient to drive his next volley up into the air. Moments later, his arrows fell harmlessly to the ground, and the source of them was never to be heard from again.

So, there I stood, as previously mentioned, with nothing to stop the terrible centrepiece of our enemy attack from closing an killing me outright. If it had reduced the Knight to a near child with but the touch of its hand, I shuddered to think what fate this creature could visit upon myself. But alas, my friends, my own efforts in this battle were unworthy of its attention and my skills were happily insufficient to secure my own demise. His designs were happily set elswhere, and the fish demon was to unleash a long black ray at the Baron, who was only then re-establishing himself over his own feet. It was a dark and terrible force extending well into the distance, but the Baron seemed to dodge it entirely with but a little effort. (For one of the chattering classes, the Baron it seems knows his way around a battlefield.) And in that moment I moved back down the pier, just far enough to place two clerics and a wizard between myself and this terrible foe.

It has perhaps occurred to you that I was behaving in just the sort of manner for which I had earlier condemned the Countessa, a double injustice considering how real her suffering proved to be. In truth, I cannot fashion a defence for myself, except to say that many a stray thought occurs in such harried moments. I am not proud of all of them, truth be told, but I will relate them just the same. To face this foe in close quarters with but a crossbow in hand was simply unthinkable; on that simple fact I must beg your assent. The Clerics would have faired better than I.

And herein lay the end of the encounter, my friends, as our Druid, still in Leopard form, caused the wood to warp under the feet of the abomination standing near the edge of the pier. He stood for a moment, poised as if to regain his composer, and I believe, simply chose not to. Seeing his one competent companion floundering about the pier, the archer foiled by wind, and a host of living expendables already spent, this terrible creature simply allowed himself to fall into the water. I and my friends wasted a moment of effort trying to hurt him in vain before he simply submerged and swam off to parts unknown.

I understand, an enemy was heard to be casting spells on the far end of the pier, but it seems he had waisted his efforts in support the doomed warrior-flunkies. Seeing them dead and other accomplices taken out of the fight, the coward simply abandoned the field without ever showing his face.

Caught between our small boat and the pier, the axe wielding human who had begun the encounter took hold of the pier and began calling for his companions. Standing just over him, the Baron transformed himself into a terrible creature, part man and part wolf. But what spell, the Baron accomplished this I do not know, I had thought him a rather straight foreword warrior myself. But in any event, he then smashed our sole remaining foe and in a single blow dragged him helplessly up onto the pier. Cold and beaten, the fool quickly surrendered, and we had this unfortunate creature bundled up and gagged with our fresh new rope long before the Harbour Master arrived to make his inquiries. The man was to spend a rather harrowing evening belwo the decks of our ship. On that little matter, I will have more to say later.

“And so then, McCoy starts pulling on the string, and there is this waxy stuff falling everywhere. His eyes! I tell you, we hadn’t even taken the gag off yet...” Keskeeri cold hardly contain her laughter as she described her evening’s entertainment. I’ve always liked Keskeeri, but I really didn’t need this blow by blow description. I had just climbed down from the Crow’s Nest where I had slept the night before. Hardly a comfortable resting place, even as it is my second home of sorts, but it was the only place I could escape the sounds of misery and terror coming from below our decks. Don’t get me wrong, I have no pity for the heartless wretch under examination. But I am not entirely without empathy, and a certain proximity to suffering does tend to etch its effects into my soul. Thinking me noble enough to pull an extra watch for the good of the crew, Keskeeri had delayed her own sleep in order to fill me in on all the happy details. It was a kindness I could well have foregone.

Did I mention that Keskeeri was about to go to bed? She is a drow, you see. Unlike her 2 male companions, Keskeeri had never quite adapted to sunlight. The woman dabbled in sorcery and served as a lesser Priestess of Vecna. A Jill of all trades, so to speak, Keskeeri had taken care to ensure that all of her interests could be pursued at night. With the sun slowly rising, she was soon to bed, taking only a little time to ensure that I knew the latest gossip.

A self appointed maternal guardian of sorts, Keskeeri’s affection for each and every member of the 35 man crew aboard the Setting Sun was matched only by her complete disregard for the welfare of anyone not a member of our own crew. Envisioning her friends as a means by which she would cause others to suffer, Keskeeri’s love for her companions fed directly off of her hatred for mankind. It was an ironic love to be sure, and one which has often caused me no little discomfort. Of this crew, none have expressed more kindness to me than Keskeeri, but at this very moment, she seemed completely oblivious to my rather extreme discomfort. To say that she was oblivious to the discomfort of our ship’s guest would seem entirely unnecessary.

The most amazing thing about Keskeeri was her incredible beauty. Dow women are, I am told, commonly blessed with this quality but not normally on a scale comparable to that of Keskeeri. She seemed almost to take on the appearance most desired by whomever she spoke with. More than once I have heard men sing her praises only to contradict themselves over the details. Where one would speak of green eyes and close cropped hair, another would pine over pure black eyes and long flowing hair. Many times I had stared intently at this wonder of a woman, trying myself to discern the details which seemed to escape her admirers, finding only this one certainty, that she was stunning whatever the details of her appearance. This morning Keskeeri seemed almost to sparkle with glee, this evil den mother, recounting with pride the exploits of her favourite children. At such moments, she frightened even as she held me in awe. Men would willingly go to her embrace, knowing somewhere deep down that she would as soon leave them in agony as pleasure. Truth be told, at this moment, this woman at least could easily have done the same.

A brief kiss on the cheek, and this evil beauty was off to the lowest holds of our ship. I stood motionless on deck, still reeling from the disparate feelings of the previous conversation, and growing dimly more aware that someone below deck was still sobbing. I wondered at that moment if I really had the strength to stay with this crew, if the cruelty of which its members were capable might one day overwhelm scruples I hadn’t thought I really had. I wondered this, and I wondered about Keskeeri, ...tried to remember just what colour the eyes had been, the very ones that had held me transfixed but a moment before.

“The Captain wants to see you below deck.”

“Yes Sir.”

I really couldn’t tell you who had delivered the message or whether or not it was really someone worthy of the honour of a “Sir.” I shuddered a bit and made my way down the ladders to a seen unimaginable in all my days. I will spare you a description of the carnage visited on our shackled prisoner’s body and tell you only that I hesitated. Less than a day previous, this great warrior had struck fear into the hearts of all about him, and indeed, he had taken a pound of flesh from one of our own. But now he appeared barely human, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. Utterly broken, the mere sight of this once-man now lying on the floor was himself a source of pain to any with a heart. I sat down on the ladder and took a breath before catching the attention of the Captain.

In front of the prisoner stood “Insidious Chutney,” the sole Hobgoblin on our crew, and I believe, a survivor of the village from which we had stolen our first vessel. How it is that this rather twisted mind sought to board our ship after what we did to his people I will never know. Truth be told, I am unlikely to ask. Chutney’s sole claim to fame thus far is the demise of two or three kobalds in the great battle on Illithid Isle. No-one was impressed with this creature, and not many of us expected him to survive the next real test of his courage,

Unmoved by the suffering of our prisoner, Chutney appeared almost childish with glee. He was most definitely not the true cause of the prisoner’s suffering, and yet Chutney’s spear point was bloody when I came upon the scene. A smile cracked his ugly face as Chutney explained that the prisoner had moved somewhat and he had been forced to poke it, just as the Captain had ordered. The Captain just scowled.

It wasn’t that Chutney was cruel, no, what bothered me (and I suspect a number of those present) was just how little he had done to earn his sadistic pleasures. To see this peon grinning like a school boy at the chance to hurt a warrior with skills beyond his present dreams, it was simply too much. Clearly fed up with juvenile antics and ready to get some rest after a hard day and a long evening, Captain Xavier, turned to me, “Teska, take charge of the prisoner. See that he does not escape, and don’t kill him.”

“Yes sir.” I took up a position across from the prisoner and loaded my crossbow. As much for Chutney’s benefit as that of the prisoner, the weapon would not be needed and I knew it. Still it was important to establish my domain, so to speak. And as the others filed up the ladders to the upper decks I settled in for a long morning.

What had they learned, I wondered? We had all been eager to discover the reason behind the attack on the docks. In her haste to describe another's suffering, Keskeeri had entirely omitted the very purpose of the night's torture. So clearly broken, the poor wretch before me must have revealed everything he knew. But there was no-one left to tell me the result. No-one but the wretch himself, that is. I thought for a moment to question him myself. Just the threat of aditional pain might be enough to get him talking. Still, I thought, the effort to speak with what remained of the relevant organs, I just could not bring myself to inflict that much more suffering. Feeling nothing but contempt, and for just a moment wishing myself strnger, more cruel, ...I ended up giving the wretch a drink of water.

It was somewhat comforting to realize that I well suited to such a task, perhaps a better choice than most among this crew. Fair enough. Keskeeri's words came back to me, and I struggled to remember the colour of her eyes.

Was I having thoughts for another woman?

I have got to get more sleep my friends as I can hardly believe the contents of my last journal entry. Sitting there in that room with that poor pathetic creature, it seems as though my world were falling apart, even my own personality. ...falling apart and pouring all over the page, that is. I shall attempt to sleep in the Crow’s nest in the future, nor will I engage in such foolish thoughts again.

So, what did we learn from the poor fool presently keening like a sick whale in the depths of our ship? It seems that emissaries from the Black fleet had visited a small temple to some demon prince during the course of their visit. We still do not know what they did at this temple, but our victim believes this visit to be the source of last night’s ambush. Graz’zt, I believe was the name, our victim had mentioned, though I know nothing of this being or his cult.

In our time here, we have also learned a little more about the black fleet and its conduct in the port. We know that approximately 12 ships sailed up to the mouth of the harbour, enough to raise local fears of an impending invasion. We know that at least 6 ships sailed on while the Flagship and 5 others sailed into the harbour and dropped anchor. Only a small number of humans disembarked from the ships, and that those humans conducted a small numberof transactions about the city before disembarking for shores unknown. We know that they purchased enough masterwork weaponry to outfit a small army. And we know that they bought out all the best wine from a local source before visiting the small temple which appears to be the source of our most recent troubles.

We also know that the powers that be in the township took steps to speed the departure of this fleet, essentially demanding that all craftsmen of the port drop everything until the commissions for the black fleet were completed. I shudder to think that if these efforts had failed we might actually have caught our quarry in this very port. And I fear that such a success at this stage in the game would likely prove to have been our last.

The Harbour Master has proven himself an interesting character. He seems to have turned a blind eye to the capture of our prisoner, but the man is quite aware of our origins. He knows we stole this ship, and he must suspect the nature of our crew. Last night on the pier, he had been eager to hasten our own departure. This morning I am told he brought to us all that we had ourselves commissioned from local craftsmen, a couple dozen javelins and 2 banners. He brought us these things and bid us a hasty departure. I assumed on taking my nap that I would be awakened to aid in our departure. Yet, this evening as I awake from the nap, I have learned of a new development. It would seem that we have been invited (most unofficially to be sure) to investigate the demonic cult behind which had commissioned our ambush. Should anything happen to the temple or its faithful, we are told, the local police would investigate the matter with somewhat less than due diligence. And if the conflict were limited to the right parties we have been led to believe we could be well at sea before anyone really thought to do anything about it.

It is quite an invitation, but it creates for us a real dilemma. We don’t really need anything more here in this port, and the compass needle has pegged a new direction. Our true quarry has once again landed, and we are ready to leave. What do we care about some evil temple, except perhaps that some of us would happily attend its services? It might be a source of plunder. We might even learn a bit more about our true quarry. And then again, we might just be heading into a trap. Even if it isn’t a trap, the temple is a source of real danger to us. It was no small fighting force they had thrown against us last night, and I shudder to think at what might actually reside in its walls. We would certainly have to haul out our heavy hitters (a Minotaur and an Ogre), thus revealing our true nature to a very bigoted community. We have only just gained some small measure of control over our circumstances, and this wreckless attack could well be our undoing.

It seems as though our leaders are leaning towards an attack upon the temple, but there is still a great deal of talk about the matter. I can only hope that our leaders will remember one thing. Given where we are and the people who reside here, we would need to do more than win this battle if it happens. We would have to win it with enough power to spare, enough to ensure that the “good” folk of this town do not jump at the chance to eliminate not one but two evil forces.

WIll we take to the sea, or will we punish the temple to Graz’zt? I honestly do not know which choice the officers will make.

Please accept my apologies, friends, if any of this seems a little rough to you. We are in rough seas and it was a terrible evening. I am writing to you from atop the crow's nest where I am standing watch. We lost one of our own last night and I am sick about it. I wish I could tell you in more detail, but I fear I was not on watch. By the time I stood to the decks, the entire encounter was over, as was the life that was one of our crew.

It happened on one of our night shifts, just a bell or two short of sunrise. As our vessell was tossed about the waves, one elven warrior named Dart called out an alarm from atop the crow's nest. A great wave was closing fast upon the stern of our vessel. The crew on boar that evening had but a moment or two to react. Our 3rd mate, a Hobbit Cleric simply stepped inside the officer's cabins for a moment. Our Druid (Bodyknock) stood his ground without the least precaution, and the rest of the crew grabbed whatever ropes were near to hand. This included the Hobgoblin (Insideous Chutney), The Bard (Mesa), and a Sorcerer/Fighter (Shade) as well as the Drow Keskeeri. Standing at the wheel, one of our crew, a Swashbuckling lass named Lucinda, thought to secure the wheel just in time. Were it not for her quick thoughts, I fear the whole crew would have been lost at sea.

The two atop the Crow's Nests (Dart and a smallish lizardman named Sess) could but watch as the monstrous wall of water swept over the back of our boat and took half the watch along with it. Despite all precautions Mesa, Lucinda, Shade, Chutney and Bodyknock were all swept from violently from the deck of the ship.

It was a source of some confusion at first, but Dart now says he saw something peculiar in the incident. Just as the wave reached our stern, it changed directions ever so slightly. After sweeping past the stem of our vessel the wave seemed to pace itself, just out of reach. Thinking, the wave a spell of some kind, Dart surveyed the waves about us for some magical foe, but in the darkness he saw nothing.

Held fast in the wave were 5 of our own, and most were unable to do anything about it. I am told that Mesa and Chutney both fought hard to free themselves from the wave, but neither escaped its grasp. Chutney was able to surface for but a moment, just long enoug to gasp fpr air before being taken again into the great wave. Bodyknock changed to a shark and found quite surprisingly that he was unable to swim out from the wave's great power. Shade and Lucinda were, I am told, quite moving only at the will of the wave itself which seemed to carry them almost willfully along with it just out of reach of Keskeeri who stood at the front of our vessel, apparently unable to conceive of any plan to help them.

...any plan except to scream that is. I woke to a shrill woman's voice, project the word "alarm" just above the din of the storm outside. In another moment I would hear a watch whistle added to the sound of Keskeeri's voice and then the sound of the hobbit's voice calling us all to quarters and yelling man overboard. I jumped from bed and grabbed my crossbow before heading to the main deck, praying to the gods of the seas that whatever threat faced us might be something I could affect with this quick choice of weapons. I hardly remember grabbing the bolts, but they were with me when I burst into the wet cold air on the deck of our ship. Others were coming too, struggling to work their way out the hallways or up the ladders from below deck.

Nahala, our Sahuagin scout had been swimming below the ship when we were attacked. Seeing the vessell almost submerge under the water, she had surfaced only to see the wave carrying our crew with it just ahead of her, almost taking us all with its prey (our dear friends). I am told Nahala swam foreword beneath the wave and attempted to extricate Mesa unsuccessfully from the wave's grasp. Pacwait, a new member of our crew made it from below decks to the stem of the ship in time to leap into the wave. What he intended to next is anybody's guess. In truth, his bravery and agility earned him little, except perhaps a chance to die with the others. But that was not to be.

For what must have seemed an age to those struggling for breath in the wave, it simply paced along in front of our ship, grappling with its victims. The wave seemed almost intelligent in its behavior. Intelligent, yes, and truly malevolent besides. In time Dart began actually to fire at the wave. She struck the wave and her arrow proceeded onward to embed itself in the sharkflesh of our transformed Druid. For a moment it seems, the entire world stood still, our vessel tossed about the sea and a portion of our crew tossed about the sea in front of it. Then the wave simply took a right hand turn and rolled out to the Starboard of the vessel. In a moment, it was lost at sea, lit only by a single fireball tossed at it in frustration. Sconcette swears he saw the wave react as if harmed by the spell, but no-one much cares for the old elven wizard's bragging.

We gathered the bodies of our crew from the ocean. Most were battered and bruised, and our Druid sported a small arrow wound. Lucinda had to be freed from the waters clinging to her lungs. Alas, Shade was past helping. He had apparently been unconscious from the moment of impact. Unable to hold his breath, he had expired long before our healers reached him.

So, there we were my friends, one crewman lighter after but a few brief moments of chaos. I doubt many slept well after the incident, and there was much talk of the encounter and its meaning.

But of course there is no mystery to this sort of thing. My own people know it well. It is a dark and malevolent force which stalks the seas seeking to end the lives of unwary sailors, sometimes even taking an entire crew to the bottom of the ocean. The seeming intelligence reported by the others is most assuredly the truth and the heart of the matter, my friends. Our ship had been sought out and one of our crew deliberately murderd by a true force of nature. Thus, ended my first and hopefully my last encounter with a Rogue Wave.

Gods!

For all I know, this entry will be taken to the bottom. It all happened so peacefully; we hardly thought it a danger at all. Now we cringe at every wave and pray that our fragile vessel makes it to port. How quickly the seas turn deadly! How quickly safe and sound becomes the brink of disaster.

I was asleep again. In fact it was on the same late night watch, down one man from our last deadly encounter. Those that were awake to notice reported only that the sea itself just under our boat lit up bright as day for but a moment. There was no sound, no blast, nothing to tell us that this was anything but a very bizarre though apparently harmless phenomenon. Kestensia, the Drow wasn't amused, but the others all said it looked rather beautiful actually, as if a great sun had located itself beneath our ship.

...and then the Sahuagin, Nahala, surfaced screaming of blindness and burns over her scaley body. She was quickly pulled to the surface and the watch set about trying to discern the cause of her misfortune. But they saw nothing in the seas around us, nothing except a second flash of light a minute or two after the last. Once again the light appeared to cradle the ship itself, and once again there was no sound, nothing to tell us we were in any real threat. It was easy to think that Nahala had been the only one in harms way. For a moment, the watch must have thought the danger passed entirely behind us once she was aboard.

Still, several members of the crew were roused and folks set about investigating the light. With Nahala out of commission, no-one was particularly eager to enter the water, least of all the little Nixie, Nata. I had thought perhaps we would see the end of her if the Captain ordered her into the water. Might as well drive a hook through the little fey and see what we haul up with her in its stomach, but no such foolishness took place. Once again, it seemed that we were in no real danger, and efforts to find out what was happening played out slowly, almost casually. There was no need to risk our little Aquatic Sorcerer, not for a mere light show.

Our best shipwright was sent to the lower holds, just to see if there was any sign of damage. And while absolutely everythig looked just fine, the Shipwright kept sniffing and tapping. In time, the verdict was passed up to the upper decks, despite all appreances something was indeed wrong. Whether it was a funny vibration or some quality of sound as the hull was tapped, our most knowledgeable crewman said something was different about the ship. What that was, no-one really knew, not even the shipwright. This bit of information came about just as a 3rd flash of light went off just below our vessel.

So, the Minotaur was summoned along with a spell-caster to help him breathe. Now our Minotaur is no ordinary her animal mind you. He has blue scales and a pair of wings, which I am told is quite unusual. And of course, he is smarter than the average bipedal cow, so he naturally calls himself "Doctor." Well Doctor McCoy may not be as smart as he thinks he is, but he is deadly in a fight. I did not envy whatever had been the cause of his early waking. McCoy entered the water several minutes after the initial blast of light, and only moments after a 4th blast had been witnessed. He was joined by our Druid, Bodyknock, and Nata, the little Nixie who thought herself safe in such company.

This small team entered the water and swam about, seeing nothing for a time, nothign except little bits of char trailing off behind our ship, buts that were comig off of our hull. As they swam toward the rudder, someone noticed an object in the water well behind our craft. As it turns out a great fish was trailing along behind us eating up the charred residue of our outer hull. The dumb beast meant no harm; it merely saw in our vessel a rare opportunity to taste one of its favorite foods. It had been using its light effects to burn off the outer layers of our hull and trailing in our wake to enjoy the meal. One or two more minutes and there would have been nothing left of our ship's hull. To say that we came close to sinking doesn't even begin to describe the horror that would have befallen us as the entire ship would have sunk below the waves in a single moment. The mere thought of it makes chills my bones. We were as close to total annihilationas we have ever been my friends. And yet the matter was resolved with a simple spell, a charm. The Sunfish was told to go away and it swam off to leave us to our fate.

So, now we are sailing an eggshell in the high seas. Every single section of our outer hull has been reduced to a thickness which would hardly hold a bowel of water. We have trimmed our masts and set slowly for the nearest port. Our artificer has applied himself to repairing the damage by magic, and crewmen wait below the holds ready to pound wood and cloth into the breach when it comes. But the artificer has only so many spells per day, and you can only patch a hole just so big. We are in grave danger my friends, and this danger was inflicted upon us as quietly and peacefully as a kitten stretching itself in the sun. I don't know what else to say, we have only to watch our luck and pray to our gods.

...and kill the next big fish that comes near us.