Zalich's Log, Entry One
Well, the old log is gone, at the bottom of the sea with the Nightingale along with half my good spices. Thankfully, managed to keep the tea-pot and a good measure of rations when the ship went down. Seems unfair somehow. I picked this journal up in Saltmarsh. Well, perhaps created is a better term. It's not much more than a few stray sheets of parchment sewn together with fishing twine and stuck in the back of my spellbook, but it'll do for the moment. Haven't had enough time to find a proper book here yet. I'll consider myself lucky if they even have a book binder. What possesses people to live in the midst of a swamp like this?
Ah well, given it's a fresh start, perhaps it's better if a start at the beginning.
I had a bad feeling about the Nightingale, and I shouldn't have ignored it. It's the same feeling I got when I signed on to the Darkwave, and Yondolla knows how well that turned out for me. Of course, because of the Darkwave I found my way to the Silver Arrow, so perhaps the tragedy of the Nightingale will lead to better things in the future as well.
We were doing a cargo run up the Wooly Coast, although we seem to have taken aboard some passengers as well. The crew was pleasant enough, but nothing like the comradery of the Silver Arrow. A few of them seemed a bit to young and inexperienced, but I suppose everyone starts off like that sooner or later. I shudder to think of what my old shipmates thought of me when Meldach took me on as an apprentice.
The passengers seemed like the worst part of the trip. The captian wanted to make a good impression it seems, so he asked for a special dinner in his quarters. I spent hours slaving over the stove for it, but it seems something of a waste given those who assembled to eat it. Two half-orcs (on a hextorite!), some uncouth barbarian from the wild lands and a scattering of adventuring layabouts. They seemed to expect more than can be done with a ships provisions, although the Hextorite did compliment me on my tea. Was that then, or did it happen later? I can no longer remember. It seems so long ago.
The storm hit a day or two from port. One of the undercooks told me it was uncommon for a storm so bad to brew during winter, but it happens every five or six years. Just our ill-luck to be at sea when it happened. A lot of the travellers didn't fare so well in the rough seas, and even I and a few of the less experienced crew were afflicted during the worst of the rough waters. If nothing else, it made my job a lot easier. Nothing like cooking for half a crew and getting paid for a full crews work.
We hit rocks on the fourth night. I remembered the sound from the time Captain Larethian drove a pirate frigate into a reef, so I new what to expect. I packed as much as I could into my small pack, and made for the deck. Most of the crew and passengers were already there, and Captain Millen was already ordering all non-essential personal into a lifeboat. Thankfully, we were already close to land, although we weren't sure what kingdom exactly the land belonged to.
Naturally, the lifeboats sized for humans, so we had to rely on the land-walkers to row it. They were effective enough, but no-where near as fast a well-trained crew. It's frustrating to watch amatuers do what should be your job, but what else could I do?
Luck and Yondalla's blessing got us to shore. It was cold and icy on the beach, and the others at least had presence of mind to pull the ship up on the beach. It took a few minutes before the captain finally abandoned ship, and we watched the remainder of the crew try and row out in the secondary lifeboat.
If I thought it was lucky the passengers rowing got us to shore, it's nothing like the relief I felt when I saw the captains lifeboat go down. A dozen good sailors on that boat, good shipmen all, and they were overturned and lost of the rocks.
Of course, I was hardly in the most savory of company. We had Simmons, the Nightingales 1st mate, who tillered us to shore, and the navigator. I'd never known the lad well in my time on the ship, but he looked bad.
The passengers were the only other survivors. I still seem to be with them now, here in Saltmarsh, so perhaps it's worth mentioning them. Not the most cohesive group, I'll admit, and most of them seemed content to ignore me for the greater part of our journey. Yet for all that, they got me off the Isle we were trapped on and I have little better to do until I find a safe way out of Saltmarsh.
Kull, the half-orc Hextorite, pays attention to me only when he wants food or a cup of tea. For all his bluster and grim rationalism, he does appreciate a good cup, and for that I'm almost thankful to have him along.
Troylin was a slender female who looked a little, well, shifty. She proved to be particularly agile and stealthy in the events that followed, but I don't trust those traits in anyone who'se not a halfling. Of course, there was a streak of foolishness in her as well. One of the crew told me she'd tried to climb the rigging in the midst of the storm. Hardly the sanest choice I've ever heard.
Brodnic was some savage from a mountain top, carting around a giant club and an axe. I think "Raargh" is the most adept thing he's said in my presence.
There's another female, a swordswoman, named Julian or Jillian. I can never keep it straight. She's quiet, much of the time, but she comes alive at the prospect of a fight.
Finally, there's the other half-orc. I try not to get to close to him. He's got a grim demeanor, and that wolf of his is large enough to take off my hand if it gets peckish. He's a druid, apparently, but that seems suspicious. Who ever heard of an orcish worshipper of nature?
We're stuck on an unknown coast, with little supplies, no ship and a bunch of unknown strangers to rely upon for our survival. Troylin spotted a path as we seccured the boat. With few other options, following it seemed the logical choice. If nothing else, it seemed to lead inland somewhere, so there may have been a chance to get out of the wind and cold.
The cold was bad, truly bad. Almost as chilling as the time I was left ont he ice-flow, but that's neither here nor there. It took a lot out of us as we walked. Our navigator was badly afflicted with frostbite by the time we found shelter, and most of the others were just as bad. Not for the first time, I cursed the halfling preference for bare feet, as my toes were numb and without feeling.
Shelter, when it came, was in the form of an old monestry of some kind. Abandoned, by the look of it. We forced open the door and walked inside, glad to find a way out of the wind.
Of course, there's no luck if it's not bad luck. Things went pitch black the moment we got inside. So inky even the half-orcs were blind. It was obviously magical, or some kind of beast. I grabbed my crossbow from my kit and loaded up, ready to fire if I heard something, but any chance of hearing our attacker was immediately drowned out by half-orcs and warriors running for doorways in clanking armor and rattling blades. In the end, there was little other option than to follow them.
Of course, when we got beyond the darkness effect, not everyone was safe. Both Simmons and the navigator were collapsed on the floor, unconscious and exhaused, in the darkness effect, and Brodnic was letting out strangled gasps as he struggled with something high up in the darkness. I offered to cast spider climb on one of the warriors if they wanted to go in and help him fight the strange attacker, but none were inclined to help. It's a testament to his luck and rage that Brodnic managed to struggle his way free and find his way to us from the darkness.
Of course, this meant that Simmons and the navigator were still in there with whatever was there. Brodnic had some nasty-looking bites on his shoulders that were rapidly healed by Kull, but no-one seemed concerned about the two crewmembers. Even when we heard the sound of crunching, as thoughs something was eating a body, they weren't willing to go back into the darkness to save them. I contemplated going in alone, but prior experience has taught me to avoid hand to hand combat with unknown quantities, and my spells for the day were optimised for a kitchen rather than a battlefield.
While everyone else looked around the small room, apparently some kind of chappel to many lawful gods, I tried picking a good place to fire a bolt in the hopes I could distract or wound the beast, but it was too quiet, too stealthy. Unless I could convince the others to go in, it seems that simmons and the navigator were dead. Unfortunately, they were immune to please of compassion or mercy, and even logic failed them. How they though we were going to get back to civilisation without a navigator was beyond me, but such is the logic of land-walkers. They don't understand the necessity of sea travel.
Hmm. It's late now, and Kull seems to be wandering our lodgings in search of a cup of tea. I could let him make it himself, but he's not quite as skilled at the art of measureing and brewing as I am. Will write more later, after I've conserved our supplies as best I can in light of two half-orcish appatites.
