Calindor's Journal
-
(date of which I am not sure)
These travels are becoming downright dangerous. The caravan I was with until recently was like a mother to a child. I was shielded from the harsh trut of this land.
Thus I find myself in Norwick. My desire to travel Aber-Toril and chronicle the tale has taken a turn for the worse. Thankfully, Tymora does seem to favor me slightly.
Norwick is an interesting town. After a bit of shopping for a new cloak I was quickly set upon by a thief who did attempt to steal my purse. It is good my eyes are so keen or I would have been writing this a bit poorer. As it was I chased him a ways before he disappeared before my very eyes //logged out.
And thus I headed south. A sign did warn of Yuan-Ti, an amazing idea this far north. Sadly, the barbarians here could not even spell the name of their own forest correctly but such is to be expected. However, if the warning had mentioned goblins I would surely have gathered companions before setting out. As it was I encountered a pair of the small but fierce creatures and found myself rather suddenly deceased.
The fugue, I barely recall it, was a place I care not to visit again. And if not for the shard the elders gave me I would still be there. Some creature, I know what it was yet I dare not write it here, was willing to deal with me. In exchange for the shard, she returned me. I prayed Tymora forgive me for dealing with such a creature. It would seem she did for shortly her grace would return me once more.
And so I hired, or attempted to hire, a pair of adventurers. I never did get their names however. One of them refused pay. I did not press the matter. Still, one more heard of our plans and joined us. We four were a band with high hopes and faith in our numbers.
The first goblin, perhaps lost, fell quickly. Two more fell with a but a scratch to one of our warriors. However, as if an ambush, we walked into nearly a dozen of the creatures. And the Nine Hells did seem loosed upon us. I was the first to fall. Rashly, I called retreat and attempted to hold off the horde. Alas, my consciense compelled me for I instigated this quest.
One of the four esaped, the other two fell. As the goblins gave chase I did black out. What could only be a few moments later, I opened my eyes again. Thanking Tymora once more I quickly rose up and gathered my things and those of my companions. I contemplated carrying their bodies but a moment. They would be far too heavy.
So… I ran. In the end it seems they also found a means to return. I gave them back their things and excused myself. One of them wished to prod me into heading out with them again. Insanity these adventurers. I explained Tymora had seen fit to grace me with survivial twice and I would not tempt her a third time.
Now I am here, in this Inn, beside a warm fire. I write this pondering what I will do next. Without the caravan to protect me continuing my journey would be the same breed of insanity the adventurers I was with set out upon. But my coin will not last forever and running errands for Wald Kendt and Fine Ogden reminds me too much of my time at Candlekeep before I was... decided to leave.
Still, I supppose a chronicle I seek to author is only as good as the insanity it explains. Perhaps I shall remain in Norwick. Or perhaps I shall visit this 'city' of Peltarch I have heard about. A city is sure to be safer and have many opportunities for one schooled in Candlekeep. Still, I have seen Narfell. Raumathor was to be next in my travels. Perhaps another caravan might visit this place... though it is remote.
Well, I shall end this entry. I pray Tymora allows me many more such... minus the death... and perhaps leave out the goblins as well.