4th 14th, 3241 (cont.)
Not long into our journey, Jadenhar said he felt there was a ruin nearby. We decided to go out of the way to get to it as it wouldn’t be that far and we could still catch the caravan.
The path to the ruins brought us off the road and into the woods towards a lake. As we approached it, we could hear gasping which turned out to be from a fey creature named Imdal. He was being attacked by living vines. We took care of the vines but Imdal didn’t trust us too much. He said the forest is angry and that a ghost is plaguing it. Imdal himself is a fawn, one of many of the mysterious fey creatures in this land.
The ruins offered new magic to me and I accepted the gift of being able to cover my group’s tracks as we travel.
While Imdal played his pipes, Jadenhar found some ancient dead with some money. This can only help us on our journey. I presume Jadenhar said some prayers for these people, or at least this place. It is sacred to him in some way. The writing on the walls is odd. I think I could decipher some of it, but the symbols just don’t make a lot of sense when combined like a normal language. It’s as if the same symbol means something different depending on what it’s paired with, but I don’t see the pattern.
Now we rest here in this area before moving on.
4th 15th, 3241
I dreamed this morning about Gwen. She was in a dark wooded area lying down exhausted. She then faded into nothingness. The others didn’t seem to think much of it. Jadenhar in particular seemed only interested in meeting the caravan. Also, Imdal was gone, sneaking away in the night.
We went back to check on Gwen and found signs of a struggle, but nobody was there. On the way back to the ruin, we came across Scark. He admitted to having run-ins with the fey and didn’t seem like he minded it.
After talking to him, we found Imdal’s trail and followed it. It led into the deep woods. We were getting tired and some creature started causing mischief with us. It was some kind of small colorful dragon. Then, suddenly, the trail stopped. We decided to make camp, since we were too tired to seek shelter and wouldn’t be much good if it came to a fight here.
4th 16th, 3241
Gilroy woke me up on his watch. There were tiny people all over, little fey. They spoke in Old Pryma, just like Imdal. They wanted to take us to a gathering that happens only once a month. They seemed insistent, and also claimed they don’t cause people to never return to their villages, though I suspect that’s a lie. We committed to trying to help the fey rid their forest of the ghost menacing it, but it’s no wonder they can’t help themselves; they’re only concerned with mischief. But, we decided to go to their gathering anyway.