The Travel Journal of Jalaina Nahal

#### **Day 1 - Helias**

This is the first entry in the travel journal of Jalaina Nahal, the first of many entries that will outline my journey as I haphazardly try to circumnavigate the continent. I am hardly the first person to do this, it is not a particularly long trip after all, and many freelance sailors now do it several times in their lifetime as they jump from job to job, though it is rare for someone to do it deliberately in such a short time period. Ancient explorers of course had it much harder, but in these more civilized times there is no shortage of friendly(ish) ports along the coast, and it is rare for a ship to have to spend more than a week at sea while travelling the coast unless they want to.

As a lesser member of the wealthy Nahal merchant family, part of this trip is very much to increase my usefulness to the core members of the family before someone decides the number of distant relatives leaching off the clan fortune is becoming to big again and cuts my stipend. My attempt at gaining an education in the magick arts ended poorly, and despite the fact that my family does not trade outside of Westrasi, those with knowledge of the outside world are always valued.

The real goal is of course adventure for the sake of adventure. Like all Nahal youth, I have traveled extensively within the Westrasi Sea region as part of my informal education, and have long been fascinated by the exotic nature of foreign lands. Although Helias and the rest of the Vashian Republic is beautiful, clean, and safe, it does become rather bland and familiar after a while.

-- The Plan --

First Stretch - Helias to Farbank - two weeks - this should be the easiest and safest part of the journey. The Falcon, a Nahal galley will take me west along the main river route to Jormsburg, at which point I will disembark and travel on foot through Sisilia to the port of Farbank.

Second Stretch - The Southwest - two months - In Farbank I will meet an old classmate who is now a Ship Captain working for a Morloux-Sisilia joint trading venture. Her ship travels up the coast to the Stormlands, before heading south, then east, all the way to Nulamore.

Third Stretch - The Southeast - one month? - Here I will attempt to travel the Merchant League trade routes from Nulamore to New Belwed. Things will get interesting since I have no contacts in this part of the world.

Fourth Stretch - The Northwest - three months - In New Belwed I will meet up with a distant cousin who works for the Imperial Bureau of Colonization there, and together will do the return stretch based on some new "shortcuts" he has been working on.

#### **Day 2 - Sforza**

The day long sailing trip from Helias to Sforza was largely uneventful. The water was as calm and as smooth as a mirror, the early spring temperature cool and refreshing, and not a single vessel from our neighboring pigsty "kingdom" was to be seen.

Sforza is a beautiful city, a remnant of the Verani Empire like many Veranese City States. Unfortunately my companions (a handful of distant cousins by either blood or marriage) had little interest in visiting the more notable landmarks, and being a little worried about wandering a foreign city by myself, I reluctantly followed them.

The inhabitants of Sforza are a civilized enough folk, with many similarities to us Vashians, but extroverted and flamboyant. During the ten minute walk to the tavern I was subject to three declarations of love at first sight, two aggressive sales pitches from peddlers selling junk, and a short poetic recital on the shape of my bosom (it was surprisingly well done but still unwelcome). All harmless enough, though wandering the docks at night is a bad idea in even the safest of cities.

#### **Day 3 - Wyrd**

I woke up this morning back on board The Falcon with splitting headache, a fair bit of vomit down my front, some badly bruised knuckles, and a missing boot. It turns out that trying to out drink a bunch of sailors was not such a great idea. I asked around a bit and it turns out that the vomit was from some random drunk at the fourth tavern we visited (I don't even remember the second!), the bruised knuckles were from punching a stone wall (apparently I was doing a giant impression), and no one remembers how I lost the boot.

Apparently while I slept, there was a minor confrontation with a small Suezi boat as we were travelling west along The River. Glad I missed it since I never much cared for the Suezi. Although seemingly civilized, their fanatical obsession with re-establishing (their interpretation) of the Verani Empire has ironically caused much damage to former Verani sites due to their ongoing wars with the Veranese City States. Luckily they still consider the Vashian Republic as one of their main allies so we were able to pass their "blockade" in peace.

The Wyrd Tribelands are a strange place I never enjoy travelling through. "The River" as it is informally known travels from the Westrasi Sea through the Wyrd and Uoro to the Lazari Canal, and from there eventually to the West Coast, which makes it an important trade route. Still not worth a trip through the Wyrd though in my mind. Even though The River is relatively safe from the weird time magic and other oddness of of the Wyrd, strange things still do happen, and more than a few ships have gone missing on The River.

#### **Day 4 - Wyrd**

The sun didn't go down last night when it was supposed to, one of many weird phenomena that occasionally occur when travelling along The River. Also we had an intense lighting storm despite there not being a cloud in the sky. For all its reputation, there actually isn't much to see in the Wyrd from much of The River. It is a dry, flat region of dust and dead grass. Our ship, The Falcon, continued at full speed through the night again in order to reach civilization as quickly as possible.

#### **Day 5 - Uoro**

After an uneventful third day in the Wyrd, we finally reached the border of the Kingdom of Uoro late in the afternoon. We docked The Falcon at a small river fort maintained by the Wardens of the Wyrd Watch for about an hour or so to pay taxes and do paperwork. After nearly three days cooped up in a small galley, it was great to get out and move around a bit.

While the important people did the boring work, I chatted with some of the lower ranking Wardens. Like most Uorosians, they are a serious people, in sharp contrast to the emotionally flamboyant people of Sforzi from just a few days ago. They speak Mukweski as their primary tongue, the same language spoken by those living in the more civilized parts of the Westrasi Sea like myself, though their version is rather unrefined. Having visited Uoro several times in the past, I have long come to the conclusion that it is generally a safe, well-run, if a bit dull nation. The Wardens have a touch of the wyrd paganism to them though, and their stories of the Wyrd Tribelands are always worth listening too.

#### **Day 6 - City of Vestrasia (Uoro)**

About another day's travel in The Falcon brought us to the capital of Uoro, the ancient city of Vestrasia, a place which most grudgingly accept as the birthplace of Westrasi civilization.

The trip was pleasant enough, the banks of the Uorosian River (technically the same river as "The River", though rarely treated as such) are lined with villages and homesteads, and common folk working hard in their fields often stop for a bit to watch us with ideal interest. In between the settled areas are dense woodlots, a peculiar trait of the Uorosians is their desire to live in harmony with nature rather than conquer it like many other followers of the Twin Gods.

Vestrasia itself is large city of well aged elegance, significantly older than even the Verani Empire yet still well maintained. In contrast to popular stereotypes of Uoro as backwater bumpkins, the city is very cosmopolitan, and merchants, tradespeople, scholars, and mercenaries from all over the Westrasi Sea and Mukwesk regions can be found here.

We berthed The Falcon in a reputable dock and the wealthier crew and passengers rented a large portion of a somewhat overpriced inn located in the Uptown region. Following a quick bath (Praise the Gods, I was starting to smell rancid!) me and a few others had a civilized night trading stories with some student scholars rather than rampage through the port taverns with the usual suspects (needless to say I learned my lesson from Sforzi). We had a lively debate on whether the Westrasi Nations should pay reparations to the Halfling-Giant Alliance for the ancient slave trade, admittedly not so ancient in some cases. You can always count on an Uorosian "intellectual" to try to make you feel guilty over something that occurred over a thousand years ago, and people call us Vashians sanctimonious!

#### **Day 7 - Uoro/Eastport (Lazari)**

Our third day in Uoro was spent travelling further upstream towards the Lazari Canal. Not much worth reporting on here, "upcountry" Uoro is pretty similar to other parts of Uoro visible from the river, if a bit less inhabited.

My cousin Fekia pulled me aside for a girl-to-girl chat on whether this whole globe travel business was such a good idea. She made a rather compelling argument that there was still plenty to see in Westrasi, and that some parts of my trip were needlessly dangerous. Not going to lie, she had many good points. I started planning this trip nearly two years ago when I was still going through a rebellious phase, and some portions of it fill me with a bit of dread. But I have talked about it for far too long now to lose face backing out.

Although still seemingly quite flat, the slight increase in gradient was apparently noticeable to our rowers, whose grumbling increased exponentially. Luckily a strong wind from the south allowed us to reach Eastport by nightfall.

#### **Day 8 - Lazari Canal**

The Lazari Confederation is a strange nation, some would argue it is more of a gentlemen's agreement between Uoro and Lahaila than a nation at all. The bulk of the population lives along the infamous Lazari Canal, one of the largest man-made constructs in the world, if often overlooked due to its utilitarian nature.

Setting out westwards from the city of Eastport, The Falcon travelled at a good pace along the Canal. Not much of note happened; a hippogriff patrol did a close fly over, and there was some speculation among the cousins whether our family had a vault in the mountains.

As if I would know anything about the family fortune. Most of the cousins aboard the ship are closer to the main branch of the family then I am. House Nahal could have a million gold trade bars up there for all I know.

#### **Day 9 - Port of Lazar (Lazari Confederation)**

We reached the Port of Lazar at the end of our second day in the Canal. A respectable sized city of a similar appearance to Eastport, neither city is particularly old, and both are well run and well maintained by the Research Rangers of Uoros, and the mercenaries of the various merchant firms. Combining the best traits of both Uoros and Lahaila, the inhabitants of the city are pragmatic and accommodating, and I would like them well enough if it weren't for the massive cut they take on any trade going through the Canal.

Taxation truly is theft!

#### **Day 10 - Tautoburg**

From the Port of Lazar we headed south, into a region every bit as mysterious and strange as the Wyrd. Centered around the "nation" of Tautoburg, though spilling for over a hundred kilometres in every direction, some say this area is an offshoot of the Wyrd, others say it is a region of overlap between the worlds of the Fey and Reality, some say it it is filled with magic ley lines, and some say it is all those things.

Let's just say I am happy I am on a boat.

The forests feel dark and oppressive here, even from the middle of a wide river. Dangerous wildlife can be found everywhere in those forests, and few have reason to enter them except the Research Rangers and the Jorivakian Mercenaries.

There is said to be one community in this region, Tautoburg itself, though no sane individual goes looking for Tautoburg, and it never appears in the same place twice.

We only encountered one living soul as we passed through the heart of the Tautoburg region itself, a woman bathing in the water. Normally such a sight would be of great interest to the male crew, but this is Tautoburg, and there is no such thing as ordinary folk doing ordinary things.

I took a quick look myself with the looking glass and instantly regretted it.

#### **Day 11 - Jormsburg (Jorivakia)**

After another (thankfully uneventful) day spent travelling through the Tautoburg region, we reached our destination around nightfall; Jormsburg, the grim fortress-like city of the Jorivakian people.

Much like the Lazari Confederation, this nation is young, carved out of a strange wilderness that was ignored for millennia before veterans from Belara and Morloux selected it as the site for a rather peculiar social experiment. Feed up with dying on behalf of others, Jorivakia was established as a homeland for soldiers of all races and creeds, and any who can face their daunting martial challenges are welcome to live here, others are encouraged not to linger.

Needless to say it is a rather empty nation, its forests every bit as dark and forbidding as those further east, though large estates are said to be scattered throughout the forests west of the Jormsburg.

Sadly this was my last night with The Falcon's crew, from here I would travel on foot to Farbank in northern Sisilia, roughly 250 kilometres to the north, or about six days on foot at a leisurely pace. A ship would be faster of course, but the pagans of Sisilia have always fascinated me, and this will be the first part of my journey where I travel through territory I am not familiar with. Besides, Sakras wasn't expecting me in Farbank for a week anyways.

We spent the night having what little fun could be safely had in Jormsburg, including more than a few tearful farewells once everyone had a few drinks in them.

#### **Day 12 - Rural Jorivakia**

From Jormsburg I said my goodbyes to my cousins and proceeded to the Sisilian border on foot. One of my wealthier cousins arranged for a Jorivakian Mercenary named Brooc to escort me to the border, which is about a day's journey. The journey was rather uneventful. Although sparsely inhabited, and said to be filled with dangerous wildlife, the Jorivaki pride themselves on keeping the few major roads through their territory safe from wildlife and bandits, and Brooc's presence was likely unnecessary.

Brooc likely thought so too. He said little during the journey aside from some unhelpful advice when we reached the small hostel at the border.

Don't get lost.

Don't get killed.

Thanks Brooc.

Not.

#### **Day 13 - South Sisilia**

I am beginning to regret my earlier enthusiasm to interact with the Sisilians. The ones I have encountered so far at the small border fort and along the road are a rather unfriendly lot, clannish and pagan in ways that remind me more of the Yoroi and Sarcians than the other Mukwesk pagans I have encountered in the past. Since entering Sisilia, most of the looks I get are either ones of suspicion or of leering, sometimes both, even from a few of the womanfolk! Worship of the Wild Lord takes many forms in Sisilia, and all sorts of deviancy frowned upon by the Vashian Chapel are said to be common here.

The forests are also not to my tastes. The "main road" through Sisilia is little more than a rut filled wagon trail, and almost no signs of civilization can be seen aside from a few unlabeled side trails that presumably lead to homesteads or villages. Although the forest is not quite as intimidating as the one in around Tautoburg, I still feel much less safe here given that I am alone on foot rather than on a boat with others. Also, it has been a long time since I have had to travel twelve hours on foot with gear. Probably not since basic compulsory militia training four years ago.

Things only improved marginally when I reached the town of Cattericup late in the evening. Relatively cosmopolitan for its size thanks to its small university, I spent the night talking to a local "expert" on the fey and the many variations of the Wild Lords faith. Needless to say hearing about hags, redcaps, fairies, and satyr spoken about factually by a man who has encountered some in person, and knows people who have encountered others, is very alarming. Suddenly all my childhood dreams of encountering fairies and sprites were turning into nightmares of being stalked by rapist satyrs, sadistic redcaps, and vile harpies. Not to mention the Wild Lord himself, who is actually a rather nasty fellow when you think about it.

#### **Day 14 - Central Sisilia**

I may have taken a wrong turn at some point. A "bridge" along the "main road" got washed out by a flash flood, and I tried backtracking to a fork in the road in hopes that it would lead me to some sort of shelter to get out of the torrential rain.

It didn't lead to shelter. Instead it zigzagged randomly about for a kilometre before disappearing.

And when I tried to backtrack to the main road, I belatedly realized that several other paths connected to it at weird angles, and I can no longer even see my own footprints because practically everything is under a foot of water now.

Not to mention that the rain is so intense that visibility is near zero.

And now it is getting dark too.

And I might have heard some rather ominous laughter earlier.

A wise man once said that adventures are never fun while you are having them.

Very true.

Another wise man said don't get lost.

Well damn your useless, non-specific advice Brooc, since now I am lost.

And muddy.

And drenched to the bone.

If anyone finds this journal next to my mauled carcass in a few weeks, please bring it to the Nahal company agent in Jormsburg, you will likely be financially rewarded.

#### **Day 15 - Lost in Sisilia**

Good news journal, I am not dead.

Yet.

That is pretty much it for good news, everything else is rather bad.

I woke up this morning sitting in a puddle, last night I took shelter under a rock outcropping, but unfortunately I didn't account for the fact that the drainage in the area was poor. Also, everything I was wearing and everything in my sack was still completely drenched from the day before, except for this journal, since it was wrapped in alchemaic cloth. It was overcast, which made orientation impossible, and drying slow. Rather than wander in a random direction in soggy clothes, I lit a rather smoky fire with a lot of wet underbrush and a bit of magick and hung most of my gear and clothes over it to dry them out.

Rather clever I thought.

It wasn't.

Despite a certain suspicion that I was being watched, I dosed off almost instantly. From a poor sleep from the night before, or some sort of fey magick I am still not sure. Naturally when I wake up most of my stuff is in the fire, and someone tied my big toes together with cut vines, which resulted in a rather painful face plant. I suspect fairies, but I never saw them.

After having a bit of a meltdown, during which I wrecked some of the few pieces of gear I had left, I picked a direction at random and wandered about miserably for a few hours, trying to find the "main road". I was (and still am) barefoot, badly underdressed, and reduced to carrying my few remaining pieces of gear (dagger, journal wrapped in alchemaic rag, graphite stick) since I had no pockets and my carrying sack is now a pile of ash.

I was also definitely being followed by that point, though the first of my stalkers didn't make his appearance until dusk.

In the stories satyrs are charming and seductive. This fellow was rather ugly, and his first words to me came in the form of an extremely crude and graphic limerick about how good I would look nude, heavy with his child, gagged, bound to a tree, plus some other things too vile to even think about.

Charming.

Luckily those were also his last words to me. In a panic, I launched a small ball of magick flame at him, but for some reason, likely due to the ley lines rumored to be in the area, it turned into a rather impressive torrent of flame instead, and the satyr fled the area rather ablaze.

Unfortunately he is likely not dead, which means sleep is not an option for tonight.

When I am done writing this entry, I plan on lighting a torch, and continuing to search for signs of civilization.

See previous entry regarding rewards for finding this journal.

I hate my life....

#### **Day 16 - Central Sisilia**

I am writing this entry from a dog kennel on a farm just outside the confusingly named City of Sisilia, de facto capital of the Sisilia Citystates. Not where I saw myself going in life, but still far better than sleeping in the bush like the last two nights.

A number of rather strange things occurred this day, or perhaps the night before, it is rather hard to tell. As previously mentioned, I stayed up all night trying to find civilization, but instead ended up finding even more trouble.

The Really Bad kind.

"She" was about six feet, nude save for a few straps binding a corpse to her back, and the ugliest thing I have even seen. I instantly recognized her from the old fairy tales as a hag.

I also recognized the fact that I was in deep trouble, for hags are both immensely strong physically and in terms of magickal ability. They are also extremely sadistic and fond of tricking people into accepting horrible fates.

I fainted.

I awoke somewhere underground, in a cage hanging from the ceiling so small that my arms and legs dangled freely. I was not alone, there was several bodies in the cave, altered, tortured, and transformed in the worst ways imaginable yet still alive somehow. There was also the hag.

She offered me a choice. Deliver a simple message for her to a friend named Meg, or get cursed with immortality, flayed alive, shoved in a tiny cage, have my extremities gnawed off, and a long list of other horrible fates, including being lent to my crispy satyr friend from last night for a few decades.

Knowing full well she could likely deliver on her threats, I hastily accepted her deal, despite not knowing a few key details. First of all, it turns out Meg lives somewhere in Ruskata (but don't worry said the hag, fate was bringing you to her anyways, which I took as a factual statement since hags are said to sometimes see into the future). Secondly, I could never tell anyone else the message. Thirdly, she was going to put a curse on me to ensure that I delivered the message upon meeting Meg. She licked her finger with an obscenely long tongue, then jabbed me hard in the chest, just over my heart. My heart spasmed several times before stopping, like something ice cold was inside me wrapping itself around my heart and squeezing.

I fainted.

Again.

I awoke at the base of the largest tree I have ever seen, my few remaining possessions piled at my feet. I sat at the base of the tree for hours waiting for my heart to stop feeling so strange. I eventually dozed off again, though nothing approached me as I slept. They say once you make a Pact with a powerful fey, the rest will usually leave you alone, so perhaps there is a silver lining in this.

I woke up again still at the base of the tree. It is truly beautiful. I believe it is likely The Oak Father from The Ten Natural Splendours of Laelaz the Walker. I feel rather blessed, though this hardly makes up for the misery and terror of the past forty eight hours. Still, I was feeling a bit better by that point, and the sun was out, allowing me to judge direction, so I headed straight west, knowing I would hit the "main road" eventually. Which I eventually did, though by that point my bare feet were bleeding, I was covered in scratches, twigs, and burrs, and I hadn't eaten anything for ages.

Luckily an old man on a mule cart stopped to offer me a ride to Sisilia City, which was only a few hours away. He seemed harmless enough and was accompanied by his young granddaughters, so I gratefully accepted. We chatted the entire time, and I learned a great deal about rural Sisilian culture. The man belonged to one of the farming clans living outside of the city, and raises his granddaughters alone for the most part since their mother disappeared, his wife died of illness years ago, and the girls have no acknowledged father, as is often the case in Sisilia. Though like today he sometimes drops his granddaughters off with relatives from either his own clan, or his former wife's clan, sometimes for weeks at a time. Clans trump core family units in Sisilia, to an extent that seems strange to even someone like myself who spent more time being raised by older cousins than my busy parents.

He didn't find my underdressed and disorderly appearance particularly noteworthy, nor the fact that I spoke Mukwesk with a distinct foreign accent. He simply said strange things happen in the forest and pressed no further. I briefly mentioned the fairies, but had no desire to discuss the satyr or the hag, particularly with children around.

Upon realizing I had no money (my coin purse had disappeared around the same time the fairies turned most of my stuff into a bonfire), he offered to let me stay the night at his cousin-in-law's house, though unfortunately I would have to stay outside, since the hovel couldn't fit four guests. Still it was a rather generous offer, even more so when he persuaded his relatives to offer me a free meal (pork and vegetable soup with watery beer and a chunk of stale bread, yet still managed to taste like the best thing I had eaten in ages, such was my hunger). I was beginning to suspect that I reminded him of either his wife or daughter.

So here I am. sleeping in the dog kennel. At least there is puppies, I like puppies.

#### **Day 17 - Sisilia City & Farbank (Sisilia)**

Early this morning, Nestor (the old man) showed me the main sights in Sisilia City before getting me a job as a porter on a barge heading west to Farbank. After a short goodbye, he then continued on his way north to visit his half-brother who lived in a nameless hamlet near the Morloux border.

Sisilia City is a rather small city of gloomy, though elaborate stone buildings, where the streets are perpetually misty and damp thanks to the large waterfall in the middle of the city. Although admittedly quite beautiful, the waterfall also has the unfortunate side effect of making the whole city smell like stagnant water and rotting leaves. The only other thing worth seeing in the city is the massive cathedral that dominates the center. Apparently once a stronghold of Gloria-Etalia, it was deconsecrated centuries ago and is now a palace of sorts for the city's ruler.

Unfortunately Nestor's relatives were too poor to donate shoes or clothes, and I never found the time to bathe or pick twigs out of my hair, so I still looked like a xexe bean user who spent the past week running around the forest barefoot in her underclothes. There is a fair bit of poverty in Sisilia City though, and the pagans of Sisilia have much lower standards of modesty than the followers of Gloria-Etalia, so ironically as long as I kept my mouth shut I fit in much better than when I arrived in the country dressed as a wealthy foreigner. (I still got a few leers though, however by that point I had come to realize almost everyone gets at least occasionally leered at in Sisilia).

If anything, I was rather overdressed compared to the homeless vagrants and wanderers I found myself working with hauling merchandise from Sisilia City to Farbank via an old rotting barge. The pay was terrible as well, though at least the meal was free (it was gruel). The work actually wasn't that bad since most of the time we just sat on the barge as it ran downstream, we only had to do anything during two portages over rapids. The upstream trip was far more work, we passed several barges being painstakingly dragged upstream via ropes, but luckily this was a one way trip for me. My companions were rather poor company, most were burnt out in mind and body from a lifetime of poverty and labor. A couple were wanderers like myself along for the free trip and a bit of coin in return for light labor. The young lad from Morloux was a bit handsy, but it only took a minor display of magick to get him to back down.

Farbank is a pleasant enough city, reminds me a bit of the poorer port cities in the Westrasi Sea region. After almost a week in the dense, stuffy forests of Sisilia, the ocean breeze felt amazing. Much like in Sisilia City, none of the locals paid much attention to my disheveled appearance, though I was mistaken for a prostitute by three different groups of foreign sailors. It only took a rude gesture to discourage them though. The notoriously vengeful reputation of the Sisilian clans was now working in my favor.

I located the office-warehouse of Sakras' trading company, and in no time I was reconnecting with my old friend. A Solendor Elf who had walked many paths even before I met her years ago at the Helias Academy of Magick, I always considered her somewhat of a role model, and probably would not have come up with my hair-brained scheme to travel the world had I not known her. I filled her in on all the details of my adventure thus far, where she repeatedly congratulated me on any remotely sensible action I took, laughed off any setback as a learning experience, and offered many of her own stories where she faced similar perils. By the end of the night my enthusiasm for my continent spanning adventure had been restored in ways that would not have seemed possible just a day before, and I was looking forward to visiting many of the locations that Sakras mentioned as being on the itinerary for the next two months I would be travelling with her ship.

#### **Day 18 - Off the Western Coast of the Morloux Republic**

I spent most of the morning helping Sakras organize for the departure of her ship, the Free Spirit. It isn't actually her ship, it belongs to the Farbanks Shipping Consortium, which is a joint venture of several minor merchant families from Sisilia, Morloux, and Lahaila. Sakras herself is technically an employee of the Consortium, since they apparently ran out of family members willing to captain their ships, though the Consortium gives Sakras a lot of freedom to operate as she wishes, as long as her profit margins are respectable.

The Free Spirit is two and a half mast carrack with an unusually narrow hull capable of great speed. Like many Sisilian vessels, she has a exquisitely crafted, though unnecessarily well-endowed lady as her figurehead, which is said to both fascinate and infuriate sailors and port officials from more conservative nations. She specializes in moving high value goods quickly, and has a crew complement of 41, mostly humans from Sisilia, but a few from Morloux, Lahaila, and the Vesterlands, as well as two dwarfs, another elf, and a halfling. I am taking on the role of quartermaster since the last one was promoted to being captain of his own ship about a month ago and Sakras hasn't been able to find a replacement yet.

Thanks to some loaned clothes from Sakras, and access to a comb and bath for the first time in nearly a week, I am finally feeling a lot like my old self, though every once and a while my heart will flutter a bit and feel a bit cold, which brings back both unwelcome memories, and uncomfortable questions on the nature of the curse the hag placed on me (the hag never did explain what would happen to me if I didn't pass her message to Meg, perhaps I passed out before she had the chance to explain the gribbly details). Sakras said she knows some people who may be able to look in to it.

The first leg of our voyage is almost straight north, in order to deliver provisions to a tiny Belaran colony southwest of the Storm Islands. The almost perpetual storms around the Storm Islands themselves are too dangerous for a ship like The Free Spirit, but plenty of money can still be made delivering goods to the (slightly) safer outer islands of the Belaran Kingdom, since many Belaran companies consider the risk-profit margin to be minimal. The real profit here though is visiting the nearby mermaid colonies to trade useless trinkets for pearls, shark teeth, and large conch shells, which are then sold in Lalaila and the Halfling ports for significant amounts of coin.

The weather was good, and a strong wind from the south allowed us to travel over 200 kilometers on the first day before we took shelter in a secluded cove off the Morloux coast. I asked Sakras why we didn't continue through the night, but she just smiled wryly and said this region isn't known as the Stormlands for nothing.

#### **Day 19 - Morloux/Belara West Coast (AKA the Stormlands)**

Our second day at sea went fairly well.  We continued up the western coast of Morloux, and later Belara.  Sakras kept hinting that I was in for a rude awakening once we hit an actual storm, but so far the weather hasn't been much different than what you would find in the Westrasi Sea.

Nothing too exciting happened.  I saw a whale, and later a Belaran Wyvern from a distance, also lots of seagulls.

In order to make up for the fact that I wasn't going to actually set foot in Morloux, I chatted with our Morloux chef, a crusty older fellow named Grik who is too old to work the sails, but too attached to the sea to leave it.  Upon learning I was born into a wealthy family, Grik has taken to calling me "sweet (insert one of several crude one sylabel terms for female anatomy here)" as a way to put me in my place.  However, I am used to dealing with the Morloux, and took his behavior into stride, particular since he is the perfect gentleman to the other nine women on board which made it obvious the source of his discontent wasn't just misogyny.  Like many from Morloux, Grik was raised from birth to resent those that came into wealth and power from birth, and are fond of showing it, though most are not as blunt about it as Grik.  However, I quickly won him over with a mix of cheerfulness and wit, and despite only knowing him for a day, I already consider him a friend and we had an interesting chat on the Morloux Revolution and its impact on the viewpoint of the modern Morloux citizenry.

The other prominent Morloux crew member is the part Swe'yus cabin girl Sash.  Despite being nineteen tops, she apparently worked as a prostitute in the worst ghetto of Morloux's worst city for several years before being badly injured in an "incident", written off as dead, and dumped in the harbor.  Sakras saved her life a few months back by fishing her out of said harbor and Sash clearly worships her, which means she resents me for all the attention I am getting from Sakras almost as much as she resents her fellow Morloux crewmen for treating her race so shabbily.  During my conversation with Grik, she found excuses to linger nearby, and repeatedly interrupted Grik anytime he got too carried away describing the virtues of democracy by adding that all these rights and freedoms have done little for descendants of slaves of the Kingdom of Morloux, particularly those of Swe'yus and Janedi descent.

By this point I was getting to know some of the other more prominent crew as well;

The dwarf carpenter Nathos is a rather surly fellow who has travelled the world all his life.  Pity he is so grumpy all the time, I would have dearly liked to hear about his experiences in the southeast.

Lezelle is an eccentric ropemaker from Farbank, popular due to "ahem" her appetite, carefree nature, and rudimentary knowledge of alchemy, which may also explain why she never seems to be "impacted" by her "liaisons".

Natterbe is one of the few crew I actively dislike.  This is mostly thanks to his strange (from my point of view anyways) obsession with satyrs.  Unlike most Sisilians, whose relationship with the fey is more like that of urban poor folk and the local crime boss, some Sisilians idolate the fey, which is apparently not seen as strange in their culture.  Anyways, Natterbe is a rather small man who probably has never worn a shirt in his life, and is covered in strange tattoos, including a rather large one of a woman giving oral favor to a satyr.  He claims to have spent time with satyrs in the deep forests of Sisilia and learned the art of wooing women with charm, music, dance, and drink.  Needless to say my own recent encounter with a satyr left me with a rather negative impression of them and anyone who idolates them.

Another interesting thing of note about the crew was how many were related to one another.  Apparently most of the Sisilian human crew aside from Lezelle and a few others belonged to one of two interrelated clans that specialized in sailing and fishing.

#### **Day 20 - Belara Causeway and Port Weld (Kingdom of Belara)**

I never much liked Belarans.  Similar to the Suezi, the Belarans have a rather nationalistic expansionist outlook, and even the poorer peasants from Belara are sometimes prone to swagger about like their genitals are ten times bigger than actual as they brag about the military power and colonial empire of their kingdom, despite the fact that most will never see a single shaven penny of profit personally from Belara's overseas holdings.  In fact, Belara's continued importation of slaves to undercut local wages has driven many of these peasants into debt bondage serfdom, which in the Kingdom of Belara is no different than slavery.  Aside from the fact that deliberately driving your population into poverty is contrary to the teachings of the Vashian Chapel, I never much liked the institution of slavery.  Although perhaps once necessary to subdue hostile pagans in the ancient days of Verani and Belaran Empires, slavery in modern times seems to serve little purpose but to reduce workers to a more primal, animalistic state, to be better controlled by their distant, uncaring masters.

All that being said, they have made some pretty impressive structures.  The Belaran Causeway is a thirty kilometer long stretch of bridges and causeways linking together several small islands and outcrops in order to connect the western mainland to the main island.  In some places the bridges are high enough for ships to pass underneath, in others, sections of bridge can be lifted by pulleys.

All in all, I was rather captivated by the bridge for the almost four hour period we traveled alongside of it early on our third day at sea.

Being in the Kingdom of Belara itself, not so impressive.  We stopped at a port town known as Port Weld on the western coast of the main island of Belara.  A rather handsome town, though the people were singularly unpleasant.  We arrived with a cargo of ballista bolts, alchemaic potions, wool blankets, barrel parts, and rope, which we sold at a good profit, but not before the ship was thoroughly searched for smuggled goods, and the crew (very thoroughly) inspected for contraband by a very large group of fully equipped soldiers who weren't afraid where they put their hands or who heard their insults.  They were particularly fond of harassing the more obviously pagan members of the crew like Lezelle and Natterbe (not that I feel sorry for Natterbe).

The senior members of the crew, including myself, got cleaned up, and went to the Portmaster's office in order to buy a bunch of supplies to bring to the Belaran colony of Mermaid Rock, with the understanding we would only sell them there.  Naturally this process involved receiving even more insults, this time from the petty bureaucrat running the supply program.  We stayed the night at Port Weld, but the crew stayed on the ship rather than risk more run ins with the Belarans.

#### **Day 21 - Mermaid Rock**

My first day truly at sea was miserable to say the least.  Despite being still relatively far from the Storm Islands, we got caught in a major storm.  My first trip above deck to vomit over the railing resulted in me losing balance, sliding along the deck, then getting disoriented in a sudden massive downpour that reduced visibility to nothing.  Needless to say I was soaked to the bone, and stayed below decks for the rest of day until we arrived at Mermaid Rock

Mermaid Rock itself was rather unimpressive.  A rather small town of stone buildings that look like they have been rained on for most of their existence, "The Rock" specializes in whaling, fishing, and crab catching.  Some products produced by the town, and the smaller villages it shared the island with are hugely profitable for their owners back on the main island, but no one important lives in Mermaid Rock due to the wretched climate.  The soldiers who did the inspection were surly, slovenly, and under-equipped compared to those in Port Weld, and no officers or other noble bureaucrats were anywhere to be seen.  A few soldiers were even openly drunk during the (very brief) inspection.  Like many remote postings in hostile climates, most of Mermaid Rock's garrison is made up of conscripts, behavior cases, and under-performers.  Inside the town things aren't much better, many of the laborers were Imuuga slaves from the southeast with their darker skin and haunting green eyes.  A few tattooed Storm Islanders can be seen as well, apparently veteran sailors brought in at high cost to help the Belaran fishing ships manage the storms.

We offloaded the cargo and got our rather feeble pay for it.  Not that it matters, the real opportunity for profit comes tomorrow...

Aside from a few crew who drew the proverbial short straws, most of us crowded into one of the larger taverns and drank by the fire trying to keep the cold away.  I couldn't possibly imagine how anyone could stand living here.

#### **Day 22 - The Teeth**

About one hundred kilometres west of Mermaid Rock is a series of jagged rock outcroppings known as The Teeth (not a particularly original name, the Westrasi Sea has at least three locations also called this).   The Teeth are the real reason for our northern detour, pearls, shells, and shark teeth collected by the mermaids from the ocean floor fetch great returns with the halfling crafting houses we will be visiting in the south.  The Belarans have never had much luck developing trading relations with the mermaids, so any foreign ship that can operate in Belaran waters usually gets a good return trading with the mermaids, though they are a finicky, inconsistant bunch, and you never know what they will consider to be a fair trade.

We passed by several smaller rocks where mermaids were sunning themselves (the ship's looking glasses were very popular with the male crew whenever we passed such a rock) on our way to the main rock outcropping where negotiations occur.

The "trade rock' is a large, flat, circular shaped rock near the middle of The Teeth.  The Free Spirit dropped anchor a short distance away, and myself, Sakras, and Lezelle rowed to shore with several bags of miscellaneous items.  Sakras firmly believes that mermaids respond better to their own gender, and non-threatening numbers, which is why there was only the three of us.  On the way over, she explained that mermaids are very shy, so don't stare, don't make sudden movements, and don't make loud noises.  In order to signal the start of a trade, Sakras blew into the massive conch shell in the middle of the trade rock, causing a deep thrumming noise.

At first only a few mermaids, showed up, but Sakras knew her audience, so by the end there was over fifty.  Sakras would take objects out of the bag at random, demonstrate uses for them (some of which were fictitious), and hold an auction of sorts where the mermaids would try to outbid each other for various objects.  Many of the mermaids showed up simply to watch the entertainment, and reclined along the edges of the trade rock, silent but bemused.  They were without exception athletically built, under (or un)dressed, and seemingly young. I suppose I can see why many men would have issues with the "no staring" rule.   Myself and Lezelle mostly hung back and let Sakras run the show, but occasionally she would call us forward to help demonstrate an object.  A show motion swordfight between myself and Lezelle with old fire pokers proved particularly popular.

By the time we had run out of stuff to barter, we had amassed a small fortune worth of oceanic goods, and I found myself wondering whether I could convince my family to invest in a similar venture.

#### **Day 23-25 - Ocean**

The next three days were rather boring, especially in contrast with the adventure of visiting the mermaids.  I smelled progressively worst, took to always wearing a hat by day 24, and forgot about my journal until today since I mostly just spend my time trading stories with the crew, taking naps, and occasionally doing light chores.  At least there was no more storms.

We travelled straight south from The Teeth with the intent of reaching the Vesterlands as quickly as possible, though we didn't quite get there as quickly as hoped.

#### **Day 26 - Kingdom of Vesterlands**

The Vesterlands are a sparsely inhabited peninsula that sits opposite a large bay from the equally sparsely inhabited Sisilia region.  The only community of meaningful size is Vesterland Bay, a respectable sized city of the eastern side of the Vesterlands that has a friendly rivalry with the Sisilians, particular The Free Spirit's home port of Farbanks.

However on the west coast, pickings are rather slim in terms of ports.  Sakras had us drop anchor in a small fishing village where she was friendly with the locals.  After almost five days straight at sea (save the brief stop at The Teeth where most of the crew weren't even able to disembark), most of the crew were happy just to get off the ship and stretch their legs.  Things were relatively quiet that night, partially since Sakras doesn't tolerate her crew creating trouble in a friendly community, but mostly because everyone knew there would be plenty of opportunities for drinking, whoring, and hellraising the next night in Freeport.

The Vesterlanders are a proud but quiet people who rarely leave their homeland except occasionally to work as sailors for a few years.  Grun and Tevor, the two young Vesterlanders onboard The Free Spirit are examples of this, and are in fact from this very community.  Based on the few conversations I have had with them, and the Vesterlanders I have met today, I have generally come away with the impression of a hardy, rugged people who value their individualism.  They remind me a lot of the Sisilians, but friendlier and less wild.

#### **Day 27-28 - Freeport (Lahaila)**

Freeport is always a favorite stopping point with the crew of The Free Spirit, and the sense of anticipation among the crew was quite apparent during the day long trip to get there.  A sprawling trade city on the west coast of Lahaila, Freeport has a reputation as a place where anything can be bought for a price, yet still relatively safe to drink and whore without constantly having to watch your back.  The merchants of the city pay good money for a City Watch that keeps away the worst of the criminals and thus encourages even common sailors to spend freely.

A very multicultural place, the Lahailans trade anywhere the Morloux trade, in fact, the two nations have so many trade deals, they may as well be the same country as far as shipping is concerned.  Personality wise, the Lahailans also remind me of the Morloux, only the accents (most Lahailans are multilingual), the slightly darker complexions and hair, and the fact they are a fair bit friendlier to anyone with money distinguishes them.

Sakras set herself up at her favorite tavern the night we arrived, and stayed there all the next day and the morning after so that crew could find her easily if needed.  Crew were posted to guard The Free Spirit on a rotating basis, but were otherwise free to do as they wished.  I stayed with Sakras most of the time, but did let Lezelle, Grik, Grun, Tevor, and a Lahailan named Temor show me some of the more notable landmarks in the city.  I was mostly impressed by the sheer diversity of the place though, with significant numbers from Morloux, the Halfling-Giant Alliance, the Mukwesk region, the Westrasi Sea region, and Nulamore, but also some from Celestia, the Ivory Kingdom, Janedi, and even a few Tnz'qran, oni, dwarves, and goblins.

As always,  I am impressed by Sakras' natural leadership skills.  A steady stream of crew members visited the tavern where she held court, and no matter who it was, or what they said, she handled the conversation in a way that increased their loyalty to her, whether it was being seemingly impressed by Natterbe's extremely detailed stories of sexual conquest, empathizing with Sash's (likely unfounded) complains of discrimination, or putting on a serious face to discuss minor repairs with Nathos the carpenter.

#### **Day 29 - The Great Wall (Halfling-Giant Alliance)**

We made excellent time the day we left Free Port, travelling nearly 300 kilometers in order to reach the southern border of the Lahailan Merchant Republic.  Which meant we dropped anchor within sight of the Great Border Wall of the Halfling-Giant Alliance, on the HGA side of the border.  This was my first time seeing the wall from the OTHER side.  A ten meter high structure of stacked rock and dirt ramps, the Wall wasn't particularly impressive from this side either if it weren't for its sheer length.

Back when I was just eighteen, I had the misfortune of being posted to the Wall from the Yoroi Tribeland side.  Some genius general had apparently convinced First Citizen Herika Verrun and the rest of the Verrun Family that it was for some important reason to build watchtowers that could see over the Wall.  With most of the professional soldiers either guarding the border with Yoroslova, invading Sarcia alongside the Araxians, or keeping the peace in the Tribelands, assorted reservists were mustered to build and man the watchtowers, particularly individuals like myself who were still in mandatory militia training.

Apparently no one actually expected the Giants to do anything about it, but I guess the watchtowers made them nervous or something, because sure enough they did attack my encampment about a week after I showed up.  Just about everyone else ran without a fight, but being rather headstrong, patriotic, self important, and a bit naïve at the time, I stood my ground and waved around a crossbow while stating the HGA wouldn't risk a war with the Republic over watchtowers that couldn't even see anything (mine couldn't anyways, it was only good for looking at the top of the Wall and the forest behind it).  The lead giant apparently found this rather amusing in the rather slow manner of most giants, and yet was still able to expertly smashed the crossbow out of my hands with a club bigger than I was before I got a shot off.  They then bound my arms and hung me from a tree by my underpants.  I got rescued a few hours later, but walked a bit funny for several days, and my trigger finger is still a bit crooked.

Four years later in the present day, I grudgingly told my story to some of the crew of The Free Spirit, who found it funny, but I like to think that most who heard it were also impressed I stood up to a group of giants by myself.

#### **Day 30 - Pirates (off the coast of the HGA)**

Fun fact, getting stabbed in the arm is painful.  I would not recommend it.

After a long day travelling southeast along the HGA coast, we laid anchor in an isolated cove for the evening.  Unfortunately a few too many people had been using this cove recently and someone had the genius idea of using it as an ambush spot.

About thirty or so pirates from the Black Sand Islands managed to sneak onboard the ship in the middle of the night, quietly knocking out the few sentries above deck, but underestimating how many crew were still awake below decks, where a silent prayer was being held to the Wild Lord by the Sisilian crewmembers (something about a full moon, despite having gotten to know most of the crew fairly well, there is certain things the pagans don't talk about, and I don't really want to know).

I was awaken to the sounds of a rather vicious melee and stumbled out of my cabin with only my dagger and a light chemise.  A rather scrawny looking pirate jabbed a dagger in my face, which I rather foolishly blocked with my forearm, deflecting the dagger but leaving me with a rather large gash and causing me to drop my own dagger in pain.  Somehow I kept enough focus to summon up some magick and cast a ray of chilling frost into his face, but without the extra "kick" from being near a ley line, my magick is pretty feeble and although I blinded him, he managed to kick me hard in the gut.  Sash appeared from her own tiny cabin and stabbed the pirate repeatedly in the groin and stomach before wedging her dagger deep into his eye socket while I stumbled about in pain.

I tried my best to join the melee, but it was largely over by the time I got there, and I couldn't see well enough in the gloom to tell who to stab.  Sakras was the main heavy hitter on our side, though I later found out that Sash, Nathos, the bosun Karl, and a brutish Sisilian named Bradie had done well also.  Even in the chaos I could recognize Sakras' distinct fighting style, she moved quickly, constantly stabbing out with her dirks at separate targets, and always seemed to know exactly who everyone was, where they were, and what they were going to do before they did it.

Two more encounters followed, where I mostly grappled with pirates long enough for others to finish them off.  By this point the fighting was basically done, and I spent several minutes searching the ship for stragglers with some others before Sakras ordered me to go help Gallean with the wounded,  By this point I wasn't doing too great myself, and aside from the arm wound and the gut kick, I also had a bitten hand and a mild concussion from being slammed backwards into a support pillar.

Surprisingly we only had two dead, but twelve more were seriously wounded, including Grik, Sash, and Lizelle.  Luckily Gallean, the ship's healer, a soft-spoken, often overlooked mystic from somewhere deep in the Sisilian forests is a healer of unusual skill in terms of both magick and conventional healing, and he managed to stabilize everyone with no further losses.

The Sisilians don't much care for pirates, those who were taken alive were bound and unceremoniously dumped in the ocean to drown.  It is said that those killed in such a fashion will become slaves to the sea hags for all eternity.  I was rather disturbed to hear this.  Although it has been nearly two weeks since my encounter with the hag in Sisilia, I still have nightmares about the things she did to those unfortunate souls that were trapped in her cave, and my heart grew cold and fluttery for the first time in over a week.  Sakras of course took note of my facial expression, somehow guessed that it was related to the curse rather than just pain from my injuries, shock of the executions, or a delayed reaction to surviving combat, and reminded me that tomorrow we would be in Humbletown, where she knew a halfling of considerable arcane knowledge.

She then advised me to get some rest.  A reasonable idea, though I had a feeling it was also so that I didn't witness the burial rites of the two fallen crew.  Sisilians are private on such matters.  I don't think I will get much sleep tonight though.  Between the adrenaline rush, the pain of my injuries, and the shock of seeing people killed up close and personal (this was my first true fight), I can barely control the tremor in my hand enough to write this entry.

#### **Day 31-32 - Humbletown (HGA)**

Gallean found the time to look at my injuries this morning.  He combined modern medical techniques like washing and binding with more occult ones like painkilling herbs and salves said to greatly increase the rate of healing.  My arm still throbs pretty bad, but at least I will get a good scar out of it.

Despite being a few crew short, we made reached Humbletown slightly earlier than expected.  Morale was surprisingly high.  Everyone seemed to agree that the two dead crew had died good deaths and had been properly avenged.  Bragging and friendly discussion related to how the fight unfolded were constant, and by the time we reached Humbletown I could probably tell you exactly who was killing who at each given moment in the fight.

Despite its name, Humbletown is actually a very large city.  Most of the population is halflings, but visiting sailors, merchants, and giants are common too.  The architecture is strange to say the least, some buildings are designed to accommodate beings that are only three to four feet tall, some are designed to accommodate human sized individuals, and a few are designed to accommodate giants.

We spent most of the first evening helping guard, transport, and sell the various goods we thought would fetch a good price in the city, particularly the stuff from The Teeth.  We also purchased a range of quality manufactured goods and high quality produce for sale further east.  Everyone was on their guard since urban halflings are notorious thieves.  Everyone always talks about how lazy and laid back they are, but the HGA is a diverse place with many subcultures.  You don't have to look hard in Humbletown to find scrawny pickpockets, pushy vendors, obese landowners, tiny magic users, and elaborately dressed religious fanatics.  Not to mention more giants than I am really comfortable with.

The second day was much like the first, though Sakras did take some time out of her busy schedule to bring me to an "old blood" halfling named Uffo Grubb.  Uffo was tiny as he was ancient, and I regretted wearing a low cut dress when I had to nearly get on my hands and knees just to get through his door.  Not that it mattered since he insisted that I take off my top so that he could examine the location of the curse more readily.  Although I had some severe misgivings at first, at no point over the next half hour was there any indication he was being anything less than completely professional, though I am sure my face was bright red the entire time.  He scattered various magickal powders around, hovered his wand about, sometimes prodded with it, and occasionally left the room to consult this or that old book.

Eventually he came to the conclusion that the curse had two parts, one of which would progressively freeze my heart if I ignored certain conditions, the other would bind my life force to the will of the curse layer, ensuring that I could not truly die unless she willed it.  Unfortunately Uffo decided that the risk of interfering with the curse was too great, and that overall my chances were better if I simply avoided triggering the curse.  Although I was genuinely thankful for his efforts, I felt that I would have been better off simply not knowing this information.  Sakras was not too perturbed since she had one or two more favors to call later on the voyage.

#### **Day 33 - Ocean (off coast of HGA)**

Now that the wind was fully at our backs, we should be able to make quick speed down the coast of the HGA, travelling nearly 300 kilometers a day, alternating between spending the nights in whatever small town or village was closest to where we were at dusk and stopping at major cities.

The sole halfling on the crew, the bosun's mate Billtader Brilkhose was a wealth of knowledge on the mundane details of his homeland, and I have already filled several pages in my "work journal" with his intel, though there wasn't anything worth noting in my personal journal.  A somewhat unpopular member of the crew since his job was basically to be the bosun's snitch, we got along well enough since we were both relatively high up in the command structure of the ship, such that it was.  Also I find his massive gut and extravagant muttonchops amusing.

#### **Day 34 - Diggleport (HGA)**

Our next major stopping point was the city of Diggleport.  Smaller than Humbleport, it is located downriver from the capital of Jotundale along the border of the ancient halfling and giant homelands.  There isn't much trade here, but a bath and a proper bed is always appreciated.  Somehow Grun and Tevor convinced me to visit the whore's district, where I heard at least eight variations of the pick-up line "we are the perfect height to service you" from both male and female halfling bedwarmers for hire.

The only other thing of note is that Diggleport is home to a large part of the HGA's rather bizarre navy, which included several huge barges filled with rocks that giants used for throwing.  This also meant the city was full of irritatingly cocky halfling sailors, and surly giant rock throwers.  Apparently the giants would sometimes jump overboard and simply swim to enemy vessels before climbing aboard and tossing enemies in the water.  Not for the first time I found myself reflecting on how dangerous the HGA would be if they had imperialist ambitions.

#### **Day 35 - Ocean (HGA)**

By this point we were travelling along the coast of the giant dominated region of Midnat.  Coastal communities became a rare sight, though occasionally we could see small groups of giants wandering about.

#### **Day 36 - Goxruxa (HGA)**

Our last stop in the HGA was the town of Goxruxa.  Although halflings were still more numerous, giants dominated in terms of presence.  Despite being located at the mouth of a great estuary, Goxruxa doesn't have much of a port, instead we dropped anchor and paddled to shore outside the town walls.  After a tense interrogation by the massive giant guarding the gates, a small group of us entered the town in order to visit a Sarcian mystic named "The Host of Spirits Labyrinth and Recursive" or Thoslar for short.  Like many of his race, Thoslar was a very strange man, part mystic, part philosopher, and part smuggler.  Apparently he makes a living using his official profession as a curios merchant as cover for his unofficial profession, which is selling strange items his countrymen find deep in the Wall of the World mountains to certain interested parties.  Sakras bought several of his items for resale further east, and also paid him to look at my curse.  After taking certain liberties with the situation, Thoslar ended up being even less useful than Uffo.  Still he did confirm some things that Uffo said, assuming either of us actually understood what he was saying in his culture's strange and abstract version of the Sukwesktu tongue.

#### **Day 37-38 -  Ocean (HGA-Celestial Empire)**

The next three days were a long haul trip to the capital of the Celestial Empire, Celestia.  Unlike most ships travelling east or west past the HGA-Celestial Empire border, we did not stop in Tunko'tto.  Apparently The Free Spirit is banned from there as a result over some confusion over berthing fees.

Although we passed several large coastal cities and towns, none of the crew of The Free Spirit, particularly Sakras, are fond of the Celestial Empire, and only we only plan on stopping in the one city were profits are the highest.  The ultra-isolationist policies of the Empire are of course also a factor, though a Sisilian flagged ship with a Sisilian crew can get into many places that others can't go simply because Sisilia is too insignificant to be targeted by specific bans or tariffs.  The number of bribes that must be paid in order to dock in one of these "grey area" ports are simply murderous though, so The Free Spirit instead travelled straight for the Foreign Port, located just outside Celestia, where vessels from minor unaligned nations are usually able to berth as long as the Merchant League wasn't taking too many spots.

#### **Day 39-40 - The Foreign Port, Celestia (Celestial Empire)**

We arrived at the city of Celestia late during our third night following our departure from Goxruxa.  Unfortunately we didn't see too much of the city, though judging by the number of lights it must be breath-takingly massive.  We spent several hours being shuffled blurry-eyed through various inspections, interviews, marathon form filling sessions, rather degrading inspection for ticks, fleas, and other parasites by stone faced members of the Warrior and Administrative Caste, and another degrading inspection by a physician looking for visible signs of several common diseases.  It wasn't until many hours past midnight that we were shown to a bland yet serviceable hostel.

The next day was much the same.  Dead-eyed members of the worker caste carried sacks and crates of goods from our ship up to "the Market", which was really just a near empty courtyard where members of the Administrative Caste and trusted servants of the Noble Caste would inspect items carefully before making a single non-negotiable offer.  Despite the unfriendly atmosphere, many offers were reasonable and were accepted by Sakras.  Following several more hours of paperwork and several more inspections, we got back on our ship and left.

Overall my impression of the Celestial Empire was very poor.  Absurdly militaristic even compared to the Belarans and Suezi, every room, hallway, street corner, and doorway in the Foreign Port seemed to either have a soldier in it or a crest on it, usually both.  The Worker Caste are basically just slaves, though I later found out that the actual slaves and the Untouchables have it far worse.  I can easily see why most of the crew see the week long portion of the trip between the HGA and the Kingdom of Ivory as the worst portion of The Free Spirit's usual route.

#### **Day 41-42 - Ocean**

The next leg of the journey was another three day trip through open ocean in order to get to the city of Tika-Nang.  Nothing much of interest happened, though we did briefly see some Rainbow Mermaids.

The climate is becoming increasingly tropical, and like most of the non-Sisilian crew, I find myself increasingly unconcerned about modesty (the Sisilians never care much about modesty at the best of times).

#### **Day 43 - Tika-Nang (Kingdom of Ivory)**

We reached Tika-Nang late on the third night.  Tika-Nang is a massive city that was both very similar, but also very different from what little I saw of the Celestial Empire.  Although the people look and dress very similar, I noticed that white hair is much rarer here, and clothing is more loose and light.  The architecture also has certain similarities.  We didn't stay long enough for me to get a good feel for the culture, but it seemed less militaristic than the Celestial culture, though perhaps not by much.

Sakras sought out a scholar who may know more about my curse, but apparently he passed away two months ago.  Sakras said she had one more trick up her sleeve, but it was a rather risky one.

#### **Day 44-45 - New Larus (Nulamore)**

Another day long trip brought us to New Larus, the capital of the de facto Morloux colony of Nulamore.  A strange city, it is almost like someone transplanted a Westrasi city into the jungle.  Unfortunately this was also the end of my time aboard The Free Spirit.  At a mere 25 days, this was one of Sakras quickest trips on her usual route, aided by good weather, and limited reason to linger in cities for repairs or to haggle.

My final day was marked by heavy drinking, parties, and light trouble-making.  New Larus is the most popular port among the crew of The Free Spirit save for Freeport, and Sakras usually takes her time here picking items to buy for sale back west in order to maximize the downtime of her crew.

I had made many great friends aboard The Free Spirit, including Grik, Grun, Trevor, Lezelle, Billtader, Gallean, and I suppose even Sash and Natterbe.  I swore that (if I survived) would visit them sometime once I returned to Westrasi the long way around.

Sakras pulled me aside just after I had finished saying my goodbyes to everyone, and was in the process of booking a spot on a caravan to the east coast of Nulamore.  She gave me a medallion and rather cryptically said if I want to resolve my little curse problem, I should visit the Necropolis of the Naga in central Nulamore and present the medallion to speak with the scholars there.  Upon being pressed, she admitted that she had no idea whether it would work or not, but she was out of ideas at this point, and was starting to suspect there was no way to dodge the meeting that the hag had foretold.  However, she hated not being able to help a friend in need, particularly since she (correctly) felt she was one of the main inspirations for my trip around the continent in the first place, and was willing to sacrifice an old favor for one last long shot at helping me (though she also admitted that the main reason she never used the favor medallion before was because she was secretly frightened of the Naga Cult, even if they almost always honor their medallions, I was not thrilled to learn this).

Despite that rather ominous final warning, I was still caught off guard by her strong sense of obligation and protectiveness towards me, and I stood stunned for several minutes after she gave me one last hug goodbye and swiftly left the area.

#### **Day 46 - Western Nulamore**

The caravan travelled at a slow rate.  It would have been quicker just to book a ship, but like during my disastrous trip through Sisilia, I wanted to get a feel for the landscape and culture.  Hopefully things go better this time.

The caravan travelled through a mix of dense jungle and scattered plantations on the first day.  The jungles were densely packed with wildlife, and every ten minutes or so I saw some animal I have never seen before, whether it be some brightly colored bird, a weird looking pig called a tapir, or a fat orange monkey.

My travelling companions were not the funniest people to be around.  Aside from a few Morloux, most of them were locals whose Nurweskri was difficult to follow.  It didn't take long to notice the racial hierarchy that the Free Spirit crew had told me about.  Morloux were theoretically at the top, but those of mixed Sioux-Morloux ancestry were generally treated with more fear and respect by the darker skinned former slaves who made up much of the population.  Individuals from all three groups were not particularly thrilled to have an outsider in their midst asking dumb questions about everything though.  The climate was also dreadfully humid and swarming with biting insects.  I removed my vest and rolled up the sleeves of my shirt, but couldn't really do much about my thick trousers and ended up drenched in sweat within hours.

Still, all the new sights and sounds were exactly the type of adventure I was looking for, even if my caravan mates thought I was a bit eccentric.  We stopped in a small village for the evening, and I ended the day chatting with two river mermaids about shoe fashion and tossing them bits of food, which probably cemented my reputation as a bit of a nut job since like most southern nations, the inhabitants of Nulamore tended to see river mermaids as beneath their notice.

#### **Day 47 - Western Nulamore**

The further we travelled into Nulamore, the more visible the dominance of the local religions became, particularly the Naga Cult.  The two spired temples to Gloria-Etalia were replaced by the sprawling complexes of the Naga, and the more egalitarian principles of the Morloux were replaced by abuse of the working class by thugs, many of whom had the markings of the Naga Cult.   The three Morloux members of the convoy were often visibly uncomfortable, and I noticed that unlike Grik, Sash, and other Morloux I have known, they never got sanctimonious about things like inherited wealth and racial bias.

The fashion sense of the locals was a strange mix of Suoxi and what I presume is fashion inspired by various cultures that slaves were taken from.  Clothing is typically silk or another light material, and baggy trousers, kilts, and partially open vests are popular among both genders, while women also sometimes wear some sort of upper chest binding.  Hair is usually either cut short, shaven off, or woven into many small braids. All rather immodest by the standards of civilized Westrasi nations, but given the wretched heat and humidity I did find myself wondering whether I should buy some native clothing if I get the chance.

#### **Day 48 - The Necropolis (Central Nulamore)**

A third day of travel passed without note, except for the dozens of strange new animals and plants I saw, plus the exotic architecture, terraced plantations, and odd road side shrines.  Yet again we stopped in a small village, but I judged we must be close to the Necropolis by now, and snuck away from the caravan group in order to visit the small Naga temple on the outskirts of the village.  I showed them the medallion and asked to be brought to the Necropolis to speak with the scholars there.  A small young priestess of immodest dress, many tattoos, a snake-like half mask, and a dense mass of braids for hair brought me there on a furred riding pig known as a capybara (luckily it was less than ten kilometers away from the village.

Another group of priestesses led me through the ancient maze surrounding the main temple, a truly massive complex where it seemed like we spent hours weaving through deep, narrow trenches lined with alcoves filled with bones, mummified bodies, and incredibly realistic statues (which I later found out were petrified bodies).  When we finally reached the temple, we entered an even grimmer world of narrow tunnels lined with mummies, embalming chambers, rooms filled with bodies in giant glass jars of preservation fluid, and what looked suspiciously like torture chambers.  Despite the fact that the complex was clearly still active, maintenance didn't seem to be a priority, and dust, dirt, vines, and spider webs were everywhere, as were rats, insects, and naturally countless snakes.

I was led to the "work chamber" (clearly just an embalming chamber/storage area for more of the grisly jarred corpses) of one of the Necropolis' leading experts on curses.  An old, withered woman, whose skin was almost black with old tattoos, and who should really be wearing more at her age, gave me a quick look over before asking me to lose my shirt and lay down on her "work table" (clearly just an embalming platform).  I tried my best to ignore whatever slimy, foul smelling substance I was lying in, and the ominous looking instruments she poked and prodded me with, but I never quite escaped the feeling that she might be sizing me up for taxidermy rather than looking at the curse.

However, like Uffo and Thoslar before her, she came to the conclusion that two curses had been placed upon me.  However, she also came up with a remarkable yet disturbing insight.  That the curse was embedded in me, literally, in the form of small enchanted gems inserted into my ribs via the foul flesh warping magick of the hags.  Before I got a chance to ask what my options were, her assistant smothered me with a foul smelling rag, and the last thing I say was the old woman picking up some of her grimy embalming tools.

#### **Day 49-50 - Eastern Nulamore**

I woke up the next morning back in the village.  The village's young priestess, a woman of few words, had kicked me awake, told me the caravan was about to leave without me, and briefly stated the life force curse had been removed, but not the frost curse.  Apparently the Naga believe that all contracts made must be honored, even those made under duress.  My "surgeon" had decided that the life force curse had been unfair, but the frost curse was a valid way to ensure I honored my verbal agreement with the hag.  I guess I can now die anytime I want and not be brought back as some foul, half dead freak, which I suppose is something.

In return, I had a terrible headache from whatever they used to knock me unconscious, and two nasty three inch cuts in my chest, one directly over my sternum, and one a bit to the side.  Although stitched with thin black string, they were puffy, weeping, and painful.

For the  rest of the day and the day after, I mostly slept in a wagon, while everyone else avoided me now that they knew I was somehow involved with the upper echelons of the Naga Cult.

#### **Day 52-54 - Fort Layron (Nulamore)**

Not long before arriving in the bustling fortress city of Fort Layron, I developed a nasty fever.  I spent a good portion of my remaining coin in order to seek the advice of a local Morloux doctor, who gave me some medicines to fight the infection, and told me to stay cool and rest.  It took two days for the fever to break, finally releaving my growing paranoia that the surgery had somehow not completely removed the curse.  Running short on funds my this point, I did not linger in Fort Layron, instead using my remaining coin to book passage on a ship to Ecinev.

#### **Day 55-57 - Ocean**

The three day trip from Fort Layron to Echinev was pretty miserable.  My fever re-emerged, though thankfully not as bad as before.  Unfortunately it meant I was bumped from my lower deck hammock to a damp cage on the lowest deck of ship, usually reserved for those who break ship rules, but sometimes also used to quarantine possible disease carriers like myself.  Privacy was non-existant, and three of the other cells were also occupied, naturally all by lecherous men arrested for petty theft, brawling, and sexual assault respectively.  The thief was actually a pretty good conversationalist though when he wasn't leering at me.

#### **Day 58 - Ecinev (Honorable Ecinevian League)**

The ship's doctor declared me healthy just hours before we arrived in Ecinev, which meant I got to view the city from the ship's deck as we pulled into harbor.  A large city of peculiar layout, the main throughways are canals rather than roads, and loaming over the middle of the harbor is Ilion, the Tower of Dancing Lights.  One of the eight remaining Built Wonders of Laelaz, this massive structure is covered with glittering carvings and light catching prisms.  Much like the Winged Palazzo of my native Helias, it doubles as both a lighthouse and the seat of government.  Despite all my hardship from my travels so far, I count myself truly fortunate to have now seen five of the remaining eight wonders, for I had seen the Palazzo countless times, Ravena's Harbor and the Great Wall on many occasions, and the Necropolis, and now Ilion since starting my travels.

By this point I was nearly broke, and could only afford to gape at all the strange items available for sale at the smaller markets.  These smaller markets of course were nothing compared to the massive Ecinevian Floating Market, where I spent several hours gazing wonderingly at items I have never even dreamed existed, in some cases being sold by members of exotic races I had yet to encounter in my travels.  That is not to say the market didn't have its downsides though, the vendors were pushy, and often either harassed me to buy items, or aggressively shooed me away if they didn't think I could afford their wares.  People were constantly bumping into me in the shifting dense crowd, and I was groped half a dozen times, plus two attempts by thieves to snatch my travel sack.  And then of course there were slave vendors on almost everywhere you looked.  Most seemed resigned to their fate, standing blank faced, shackled, nearly nude, as potential buyers examined them like mere livestock.  Many such unfortunate souls fetched shockingly low prices.  Other slaves were clearly more recently inductees to what is sometimes known in Belara as the "peculiar institution".  They writhed in their shackles, squealed when touched, and those who weren't gagged sometimes begged for bystanders to let friends and family know they have been kidnapped or deliberately sold by employers, money-lenders, or family members to pay off debts.  More than a few were from Ecinev, and women, particularly younger ones, fetched high prices.  I have never much cared for slavery, but seeing it practiced in such a fashion made me feel sick, and I decided to retire for the evening despite the fact that it was relatively early and there was still plenty of market to explore.

Unfortunately it took me several hours to find a place I could afford, which ended up being nothing but a tiny, damp, windowless cell in a basement that barely fit a small cot.  It later turned out that this particular establishment mostly catered to those who purchased rooms for only an hour or two for a bit more privacy then what is found on brothel ships of the Floating Market.  I have spent the last several hours listening to rythmic thumping and slapping, moans, squeals, and shouts, while wondering how often the sheets on the cots get cleaned, and whether I should be concerned the door has no lock.  Then I remembered I haven't updated this journal in a while, so here we are.

#### **Day 59 - Ecinev (Honorable Ecinevian League)**

(I am writing these next few sections weeks after the fact.  I am not sure why I am doing this.  Perhaps if I can finally accept what happened, I will be able to sleep at night without drinking myself into a stupor.  I have decided I don't like my cousin and his Belaran whore of a wife much, and I hate having them see me like this)

I only got a few hours of sleep before the innkeeper (literally) threw me out on the streets.  Apparently he takes "pay to stay for the night" very literally and barged into my room to demand additional payment the second a sliver of sun appeared over the horizon.  Unwilling to pay a penny more after such outrageous treatment, I found myself getting hastily changed in a urine soaked alleyway in front of two passed out drunks (or corpses, I was too afraid to check).

The streets near the Canal were covered in vomit, urine, feces (both animal and human), spilled drinks, blood, and a few limp bodies, passed out, though perhaps a few were dead.  Luckily only a few folk were awake at this point, most of them too drunk to put one foot in front of the other.  Too tired for additional exploration, I sat down at the edge of the Canal and spent an hour or so watching the tides change, the casino and brothel ships leave, and the market ships return.  The canal water was even filthier than the streets, particularly when branded slaves started flushing the streets and gutters with buckets of water.  The Canal was also filled with bodies, which would have once horrified me, but now I was just too emotionally and physically exhausted to care.

Just as I was beginning to doze off, a nude woman popped out of the water and started giggling at me.  I screamed and pulled myself backwards for several feet, covering my hands and bottom in several foul liquids in the process.  It took me several seconds to realize it was just a river mermaid and not some form of undead, though I have no idea how, or why, a mermaid would live in canal "water".  She told me she found a body with unusual shaped genitals, and despite me politely declining, she dragged over a bloated and bottomless corpse for my inspection, the cause of death quite obviously the deep gash in his throat.  She then asked me to toss her the half-eaten eel sandwich lying next to me.  I had considered eating it myself until I realized it was partially soaked in vomit, but that didn't seem to deter her, she thanked me before disappearing back into the water.  I am beginning to see why some people consider river mermaids to be a nuisance.

Worried that I might nod off again, I grudgingly got up and went to go find an extremely cheap place to eat, while also wondering where I would find the funds to travel to New Belwed.  I had rather naively assumed that I would be able to find some likeminded individuals to travel with in order to save on costs, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that without wealth, I wasn't able to operate in the social circles I was used to back in Westrasi, and I had already spent most of the money Sakras had paid me (gave me if I am being honest with myself, though I did some clerical work and chores aboard the Free Spirit, it wasn't nearly enough to justify the officer's salary she paid me).

As I sat munching on stale bread in a seedy tavern, I started working on "Plan B", which was to try to get hired as a guard on either a ship or a caravan heading east.  I would have settled on a job as a porter or camp follower too, but that kind of work seemed to be done by slaves around here.  But I know from experience back home that the bar for entry level guards is pretty low (as is the pay).  If I got desperate enough, I might even consider signing up with a slave convoy (I had long heard rumors, and later confirmed with my own eyes yesterday, that top tier female slaves were often guarded by female guards, for reasons not worth thinking about).  Needless to say that was only an absolute last resort, I don't think my soul could handle it.

After receiving many poor directions, and wandering around lost for a bit, I finally located one of several mustering points where wannabe guards tried to impress bored looking serjeants and merchants.  I tried to impress several potential employers with displays of magick (several of my bursts of fire, ice, and lightning were surprisingly large, there must be a ley line nearby), but got rejected five times as arcane users are more common here than in Westrasi.  I was eventually able to find an employer though, an attractive young female merchant company agent named Iris, who was apparently looking for a scholarly mage to round out her master's retinue of rather feral looking bodyguards and porters from the Supprian Alliance tribes.  She seemed disinterested at first, but perked up a bit when I mentioned how far I travelled over the past two months, and the sights I had seen.

She offered me generous terms, something along the lines of what a junior officer or agent would make, rather than the entry level guard salary that I had thought was the best I could reasonably expect.  Feeling validated, and rather foolish for my earlier pessimism, I followed her and her retinue back to a palatial suite rented by her employer, where we sipped tea and discussed the terms of my employment.  Apparently her employer's ship travels a short circular route between Ecinev, Krelekjavvwokna in the Supprian Alliance, and Lotua in the Nanji Alliance.  She accepted the fact that I wasn't looking for a long term contract and would likely leave after a few weeks of pay had replenished my funds sufficiently that I could travel the Ram's Head on my own terms, she even cracked a joke about how that should be sufficient time for me to provide them with plenty of knowledge of the lands to the west.  As we talked, I found myself growing increasingly comfortable with her, she reminded me a lot of Sakras, and I found myself talking about things I would only tell Sakras and a few others.  Strangely, I also found her increasingly beautiful, normally I don't think of other women in that way, but it seemed appropriate somehow.  I found myself exaggerating things a bit here and there just to impress her.  We talked for what must have been hours, but seemed much shorter, around dusk she commented that her master will be back soon, and she needed to speak to him.  I found myself feeling strangely jealous about someone else getting her attention, but I was also extremely tired by that point, and as she led me to a small guest bedroom, I found myself barely able to walk straight.  I was so tired in fact that sleeping on the thick rug seemed preferable to walking the six steps to the modest bed.

#### **Day 60-75 The Treant Empire**

I woke up in a poorly lit cell, bound to a wall by living vines.  It took me a long time focus my mind enough to figure out how I may have gotten there, though I eventually realized I had been drugged by Iris.  My head alternated between pain and fog, most of my muscles and joints felt like they had been twisted out of place for days, and I was shamefully underdressed.  I tried calling up some magick to burn the vines, but strangely I was unable to do so.  After several painful attempts to pull or wriggle my way free of the vines, a fair bit of shouting for help, two panic attacks, and a fair bit of crying, I tired myself out and hung in bonds limply for a couple hours, filled with dread.  Eventually Iris showed up in her true form, that of a dryad.  I had heard stories of their strange mind controlling enchantments, and certain things from the day before began to make sense.

It turned out that Iris thought I may have information that was of use to the Treant Empire, and was going to have a bit of "fun" in order to make sure there wasn't anything that I hadn't already revealed during my discussion with her the day before.  I beg for her to be merciful, told her that I was a nobody and didn't know anything strategically important, which could be easily verified if she just checked in my journals.  She smiled, made a long cut in my ribs with a sharpened talon, and said I should stop lying so much.  Apparently her men searched my gear and found no journals, and my heart sunk when I realized I must have left them in the inn two nights before when the innkeeper kicked me out.

Iris had her "fun" for the next couple of days.  She was a master of psychological torture and figured out all my main weaknesses within hours.  She used her mind magic (which I later found out was called pheromones, and somehow involved scent or pollen or something) to amplify my fear of physical pain to hysterical levels, to create false feelings of lust in order induce shame and self-loathing, and to draw me deep into sorrow and depression where I would tell her my deepest doubts and fears.  Despite everything that she did to me, she was even still able to use pheromones to inspire intense feelings of loyalty and friendship to her, which she would then brutally crush by ranting at length how pathetic I was.  She rarely resorted to physical torture though, since it was one of her favorite threats that I would fetch a high value on the sex slave market if I couldn't tell her anything useful.

Eventually she got bored of me though, whether I told her anything of value I would never know.  The one secret she never got out of me was of course the one that would turn my heart into a block of ice if I told it.  Luckily the interrogations never veered in a direction where it would be relevant, though once or twice in my darkest moments I considered blurting it out just to end things.

I spent two more days alone in the cell, wondering whether I had been simply left to die, before finally a group of tribal warriors dragged me from my cell and dumped me in a pen with other slaves.  Much to my surprise, I wasn't even in Ecinev anymore (I must have been unconscious for longer than I realized), instead I was in some sort of small city overgrown with vines.  From discussions with my fellow slaves, I learned I was in a place called Chahold, a minor member of the Merchant League that was conquered about two decades ago.  Most of the slaves were former members of the so called "vassal tribes" who either rebelled or in some way failed their masters, but others were military prisoners of war, or civilians captured in more recent conquests.

My slave team found itself doing various degrading or laborious tasks over the next several days, whether it be collecting shit for fertilizer, digging irrigation channels, or feeding slop to the pigs.  I had never been this consistently filthy in my life, and I started to constantly worry about picking up one of the many jungle parasites, infections, or diseases I have heard stories about.  The only silver lining in all this is that I got to observe the workings of the infamous Treant Empire up close and personal.

Most of the inhabitants of the city were humans belonging to one of many "vassal tribes".  A diverse group racially, those of dark skin and hair were known as the "old stock" though even this group seemed to include several distinct races.  Other humans were clearly more recent converts, including Tnz'qran, Suoxi, and Westerasi (most of the last group either were captured with the city, or descend from the city's original inhabitants).  Despite being highly organized and fairly disciplined, to the point they even reminded me a bit of Belaran and Celestial soldiers, the vassal tribes dressed in feral costumes, which reminded me a bit of some of the wilder Yoroi tribes back home.  Despite the name "tribe" some of them operated more like specialized organizations, including the tree shaping Vegegos, the fire loving Chamanza, and the brutal Daigaz enforcers.  However, most tribes filled the role of common laborers and farmers, including the mostly Westrasi Corytus tribe, who appeared to be of low status due to their relatively recent induction (likely under duress) into the Empire.

Although much fewer in number, the wood elves, dryads, and treants were unquestionably in charge.  They act a lot like nobles from more civilized lands, and seem to outrank even the senior human vassals.  The treants are of course both the highest ranking and visually most impressive.  Standing as tall as a giant, they look like thick jungle trees given rudimentary humanoid shape, and are far more intimidating than in the stories.

On several occasions I thought of either escaping or going down fighting, but my will to resist had been largely sapped during my time with Iris.  Also, during the few times I tried to experiment with my magick in secret, it proved unreliable and weak.

#### **Day 76-85 (Nanji Citystate Alliance)**

Whether intentional or not, Iris' common threat of selling me into sexual slavery very nearly came true several times over the next phase of my wretched journey.  The slaves in my group and several other groups were loaded into a ship with vague indications that we would be moved to another location within the Empire in need of labor.

Instead we found ourselves for sale in a slave market in Lotua, which is located in the Nanji Alliance, a region of the Merchant League notorious for its poor treatment of slaves.  Let's just say the examination and bidding process was one of the worst experiences of my life and leave it at that.  Fortunately I got purchased by another slave merchant who thought I could fetch a higher price elsewhere (at the time this only seemed fortunate since it delayed the inevitable for a day or two).  I found myself part of a slave convoy heading east on foot.  As a "high value asset" I got to ride in a wagon with some fellow "assets", closely watched by three female guards (two Amazon warriors and a morally conflicted looking young Westrasi mage).  The mage kept particular close watch on me, somehow word had gotten out that I knew a bit of magick.  Unlike the treants who treated their slaves surprisingly well (though perhaps that was just because they had always intended to sell us), the head slavers made little effort to limit the amount of abuse, and "abuse" the guards dished out on the low value slaves.  Apparently most were to be sold at the gold and silver mines run by the eastern Nanji Citystates, where they were likely to die within a month anyways.

Every day, sometimes several times a day, the "high value assets" were cleaned up a bit and brought to the mansions of various wealthy merchant families for degrading examination.  Although I didn't speak the local language, I gradually caught on to the fact that my scars were a major limiting factor on my sale value, particularly the two ugly scars on my sternum from the removal of the life force curse back in Nulamore Necropolis.  Although greatly relieved each time I left a mansion unsold, I quickly grew worried that at some point I may get demoted to a "low value asset".

Ironically my time in the slave convoy allowed me to see a great deal more of the Nanji nation than I otherwise would have seen.  We passed through farms, plantations, and wetlands where strange plants and animals were cultivated, slept in jungles near ancient ruins of pre-Dawn civilizations, and of course, I got to see the interiors of many elaborate mansions filled with strange curios and exotically dressed individuals languishing about smoking narcotics and playing strange games, completely unconcerned with the human misery that supported their standard of living.  I quickly grew to hate the ruling class of the Nanji.  Although no doubt many saw themselves as decent civilized people, and I heard much about how they have made contributions to the arts, scholarly research, and advancements in the arcane, even those with no direct involvement in slavery would be hard pressed to claim they know nothing of the horrors that slavery leads to in their nation.

Much like in Nulamore and the Treant Empire, the Nanji possessed a hierarchy based largely on racial origin.  At the top were the naga (I have yet to see one in person despite travelling through all three lands they rule), below them were the Imuuga people (it was strange seeing them here firmly in power, when almost all the ones I have encountered before were slaves of the Belarans), and below them everyone else.  The line between slave and free peasant was a bit blurry, with high value slaves like senior soldiers, clerks, and servant girls are treated much better than most peasants.  I took that last bit with a grain of salt though, since the Westrasi mage who told me this seemed to be trying to convince herself more than me.  Although it is true that I saw well treated slave girls in most mansions, I have no doubts that unlike soldiers and clerks, most of these girls would quickly lose their value with age, and also that more than a few are purchased for a much darker purposes than just to look decorative while delivering drinks.

Still, a few years as a pretty toy followed by (if I got lucky) a few decades of hard labor was starting to seem like my best option (compared to being tortured to death during a failed escape attempt, dying miserably in the mines, or being sold to one of the less civilized cultures for Gods know what foul purpose).  I was deeply horrified when I found out that we had just left the last stopping point before The House of Concordance.

#### **Day 86-88 Mun**

There were only a few slaves left by the time we reached The House of Concordance.  As predicted, most of the "low value" slaves had been sold in batches to the mines during our last two days of travel.  Apparently myself and a few other slaves were spared that fate on the basis we may attract interest at the House of Concordance, a strange gathering place where the feral tribes of many nations gather.

Yet again I found myself being shown off on stage for a large audience, but this time it was a truly wretched crowd of assorted barbarians including lizardfolk, Amazons, the jungle Tnz'qran, the strange men of Maag, and of course, the feared and hated Gold Coast savages.  As was often the case over the past two weeks or so, I didn't have a clue what was being said during the auction, though the main bidders seemed to be a large Amazon woman, and a much pierced Gold Coast man.  It took me several moments to realize that the absolutely worst case scenario had occurred, and I had been sold to the Gold Coast man.

Although racially not much different than the Vishga and Treant Vassal humans, the Gold Coast Tribes have a reputation for savagery legendary throughout the world, to the point where many don't even think of them as human.  If I was lucky, I would have spent the last few years of my life as little more than a breeding animal before being unceremonially killed and chucked over the fortress walls like a discarded bread crust.  Worst case, well lets just say that spending the rest of eternity with the Sisilian hag would have been a better alternative.

As the full magnitude of what had just happened fully penetrated my stunned mind, my legs gave out as my will to live left my body.  The Gold Coast man leapt up on stage to claim his price to shouts of approval and laughter from other bidders, and he carried my comatose body back to a wagon where several of his tribe mates guarded several other "purchases".  My wrists had been tied around my back for the auction, otherwise I might have tried to use magick to make one last stand and hopefully provoke someone into killing me (though if I am being honest with myself, I doubt I could have mustered the willpower for such an action even if my hands were free, such was my depression at the time).  Instead I found myself in a small cart with eight other women, some literally stacked on others, being escorted by half a dozen or so men.

However, for once in my life, I got a lucky break.  The Amazon bidder had apparently been rather disappointed in being outbid, and she and some of her fellow women ambushed our group in a dense patch of forest just an hour south of the House of Concordance.  Most of the Gold Coast men were killed in a volley of arrows, and those only wounded were painfully castrated and partially flayed until death, for it is said that no two races hate each other as much as the Gold Coast Tribes and the Maaga Amazon.

The Amazons seemed to have no interest in anyone other than myself.  I was gagged, further bound, then draped over a horse.  The other female slaves were simply ordered to flee the area (at least that I what I assume was said), though I doubt they will get far as they were still tied together and travelling in thick jungle.  The Amazons seemed worried about retaliation by the Gold Coast Tribes, or perhaps an attack by one of several other feral tribes in the area, and travelled quickly, expertly navigating their horses through thick jungle.  It was only after two days of hard travel east that they felt comfortable letting me walk (though the Amazons still rode their horses at a low trot, and I found it difficult to keep up with the horse I was tied to, not to mention the numerous scratches from branches, and the fact that my "clothes" got shredded).

#### **Day 89-92 Maaga Amazon Tribal Lands**

It wasn't until we reached the first Amazon village that I encountered an Amazon that spoke a Westrasi tongue and who was inclined to treat me almost like a human.  Needless to say I had been wondering what is going on since the Amazons rescued me from the Gold Coast men over two days ago.  It hadn't escaped my notice that I was the only Westrasi for sale that day at the House of Concordance auction, nor the fact that the Amazons themselves were mostly Westrasi (or perhaps a bit more like the peoples of Northedge) in appearance, and I had found myself dreading the possibility that "breeding slave" was still in the cards if a tribe needed help replenishing its numbers.  Instead it turned out that I had been recruited (conscripted really) to join a trade mission to the Merchant League enclave in Boro, and they had attempted to purchase me on the basis I was advertised as an "Ecinevian scholar" (I saw no benefit to pointing out that neither part of that sales pitch was particularly true).  In order to sweeten the deal, I was told I would be liberated from slavery once "The Item" had been sold.  Needless to say I was ecstatic that my ordeal may soon be coming to an end.

The next morning I rode out of the village with a small party of Amazon, including the translator, and a particularly capable woman carrying a box which contained "The Item" which I was beginning to sense was something of extreme value.  Although still technically a slave, I was given a horse to ride, and some basic clothing to replace my now ruined "showy" slave costume.  We travelled southeast at a good pace, there was little to see as the thin horse trails wove though deep jungle, though occasionally small farms and villages could be seen.  Eventually we reached the southeastern boundary of the Amazon Tribal lands, said to be a dangerous space since territory belonging to both the Gold Coast tribes and Maag Kingdom were nearby.

Although I greatly feared the prospect of being recaptured by the Gold Coast tribes, it was the warriors of Maag who ended up ambushing us as we used rafts to cross a large river near the border with Boro, also known as the "technobarbarians".  Our first hint of trouble was when a great beam of energy scythed from seemingly nowhere and decapitated a horse and cut its rider in two.  More energy beams followed, along with heavy crossbow bolts.  Some of the Amazons fired back with arrows and thrown javelins, but the technobarbarians had good positions and superior ranged weapons.  Even worse for us, our party was split between both sides of the river, with the ambushers both ahead and behind us.  I only got a glimpse of the technobarbarians once or twice, though I has seen them before at the House of Concordance.  They appear to be mostly Westrasi rather than local races, but dress in a a strange mix of local clothes mixed with even stranger clothes I could only assume are pre-Dawn relics.  They also wore random bits of pre-Dawn technology tied to necklaces or stitched to their clothes, and had a particular fondness for a strange pre-Dawn mask with glass eye pieces, and dangling tubes or mesh caps.

There was a lot of shouting by the Amazons, which of course I didn't understand.  This was only the second time I found myself in a large scale battle (not counting the incident with the giants, which wasn't really a fight) and unlike the skirmish with the pirates, there wasn't an intuitive course of action.  Instead I cowered in the middle of the small group of Amazons on my side of the river.  I was likely out of range for spells, and to scared to want to mark myself out as a target trying.  Eventually though, the "translator" (I still thought of her as this, even after it turned out that most Amazons could speak at least a bit of Westrasi) grabbed my arm with one hand, "The Item" with the other, and pulled me into the water.  Evidently the Amazons had decided this was a lost fight, but were willing to sacrifice themselves so that myself and the translator could get "The Item" to Boro.

The current was swift, and we were carried away from the scene of the fight surprisingly quickly.  Despite thinking of myself as a strong swimmer, I was inexperienced with river currents and eddies and got pulled under repeatedly.  Probably more by pure luck then design, myself and the translator washed up on the same sandbar.  Impressively, she had managed to hold onto "The Item" the entire time.  It was my first time seeing it up close, a small but heavy lead box with copper handles and strange icons.  Perhaps pre-Dawn, though I had little knowledge of such things.  After spending a few minutes coughing up water and checking scrapes and bruises, myself and the "translator" briefly discussed whether we were a safe distance from the Technobarbarians.  A river mermaid popped her head up to say they would be here soon, and also to ask why we were wet.  We weren't sure whether the mermaid was telling the truth or not, but headed as quickly as possible further south, where we reached the border fort in less than an hour.

#### **Day 93-95 - Boro**

The border guards, some mounted on Shadow Dolphins, apparently found us of little interest and allowed us to pass unopposed.  They thanked us for our warning about the nearby technobarbarian raiders, but made no effort to leave their fort to investigate.  The "translator", whose name I finally discovered was Helna, seemed deeply troubled by the loss of her tribemates (to be honest I was very much traumatized by the carnage myself), but to my surprise made no effort to convince the border guards to look for survivors.  Instead she insisted that we travel to the Merchant League enclave of Dograh as soon as possible.  We hitched a ride on a supply raft heading south down the river to the ocean, where Helna paid a fisherman a not insignificant amount of coins to bring us to Dograh in his dhow.

Unfortunately I saw little of Boro, though Helna seemed to have finally warmed up to me, or perhaps just wanted to take her mind off the ambush, where she no doubt lost several friends and perhaps even family.  We talked about all manner of topics (though I never had the courage to ask about "The Item"), and I learned a great deal more about Amazons, the Boro, the Maag, and the tribes of the Highlands, the Gold Coast, and Mun.  The head fisherman seemed a rather chatty type, and frequently joined our conversation, though Helna had to translate most of what he said.  Despite all the misery of the past month, I felt rather relaxed and happy for the first time in ages, and realized how long it has been since I was around people I could (probably) trust.

We reached Dograh after about a day or so of travel by sea.  Like Ecinev, it had a peculiar mix of local and Westrasi architectural styles, and a rather lawless atmosphere.   Technically at this point I probably could have ditched Helna without any negative consequences, but I liked her enough that I decided to visit her "contacts" with her and help her in anyway I could in the resolution of her quest.  We were casually walking down street just a block from the meeting spot when things went horribly horribly wrong.

A woman bumped into Helna, a common enough occurance in any city.  But then Helna bent over, dropped "The Item", made a choking noise, vomited up an alarming amount of blood, then collapsed on the road.  It took me a couple of seconds to realize several key facts; Helna was either dead or soon to be so, the woman who bumped into her had a thin dagger in her hand, and it wasn't a woman, it was Iris, back in her human form.  I felt my guts clench in fear as I realized that I was somehow facing my feared tormentor again, at least a thousand kilometers from where I last saw her.  She could have easily killed me before I recovered from my shock, but judging by her supremely arrogant smirk, she clearly thought I was of no threat and perhaps intented to capture and interrogate me again for any insights I had on "the item".  Although most of the crowd was avoiding the scene of the murder, I could see figures running towards us in my peripheral vision, no doubt her retainers.  On most days she would have been correct in assuming I wouldn't have the courage to assault a superior group of opponents, but this wasn't most days.  Anger at seeing someone I was beginning to see as a friend casually murdered combined with desperation to not repeat the horrors of the past month and pure hate at Iris for the things she did to me.  I saw her eyes widen a bit in shock as I launched twin streams of lightning from my hands along with an incoherent scream of rage and anguish.  Usually I am only able to cause pain and disorientation with this spell, but whether I was near a ley line, or perhaps aided by sheer raw emotion, I burned through a magick shield I didn't realize she was using, before continuing to pore electricity into her until she was clearly dead, and for a few seconds afterwards as well.  In death she reverted to her true dryad form, with branches bursting from her clothes in the strangest places until she vaguely resembled a burnt shrub.  Her eyes and gaping mouth remained disturbingly human though.

Although I could hear multiple footsteps behind me, I was too shocked at what I had done to turn and defend myself.  Someone behind me smothered by mouth and nose with an alchemaic smelling rag, while someone else circled around front and punched me three times hard in the kidneys and stomach, though by that time I was already almost unconscious from the fumes.

#### **Day 96-99 - Ocean (off coast of Maag Kingdom)**

I was not particularly surprised to wake up imprisoned aboard a ship, though the identity of my captors came as a bit of a shock.  Although racially similar to the humans used by the Treant Empire, the men of Pash (who I have encountered numerous times in the past, usually working as mercenaries) were easily recognizable by their fluid movements and elaborate swords.  Although the Treant Empire does frequently employ mercenaries, it seemed strange they would entrust such a seemingly important task to them, and I found myself wondering if these were the contacts that Helna was trying to reach.

The captain of the mercenaries, a distinguished looking older gentleman with sharp eyes and an even sharper mind by the name of Hadesh interrogated me verbally for several hours in a marathon session of probing questions, but unlike Iris, never resorted to physical or mental torture.  He clearly had much faith in his own intelligence, since he let me free after just one session, having clearly decided I was who I said I was.  Apparently intrigued by my travels, he declared me an honored guest, though he sternly told me the ship was on an urgent mission, and turning back to Boros or stopping elsewhere was not an option.  Instead I found myself on a four day trip at sea to Randagaan, capital of the Pash Kingdom which suited me just fine since it brought me tantalizingly close to my goal of reaching New Belwed.

Hadesh was charming enough company, though I never fully trusted him.  This was partially because I never decided whether Helna would have wanted "The Item" to fall into his hands, and partially because I never could figure out if he was courting me or just naturally a gentlemanly sort.  Still, I found myself looking forward to the nightly dinners with him, the ship's captain, and a few other senior figures.  He would also sometimes chat with me as I wandered aimlessly about the deck during the day, and always made a point of telling me whenever the ship was passing by something interesting, including the massive coastal fortress of Fug, and the the Three Sisters, unnaturally tall skeletal towers said to date back to the pre-Dawn period.

My nights were often quite miserable though.  Away from distracting stimuli, I found myself struggling with the morality of killing Iris (I had never killed someone before then, though surely if someone deserved it, it would be her, unless perhaps she was just following orders, or partially under the control of someone else), the guilt of having not recognized Iris in times to save Helna, the shame of basically everything that had occurred in Chahold, the Nanji, and Mun, and the general knowledge of just how many times I had been almost killed recently.

#### **Day 100-101 - Pash Kingdom**

We arrived in Ran Dagaan, the Pash Kingdom capital, around midday without incident.  A beautiful city of domed towers and broad streets.  Despite popular stereotypes, not all Pashi are swordsmen, though there are plenty about.  Hadesh had provided me with excellent advice on what do see in the city before disembarking to bring "The Item" to his unseen masters.  He even gave me a handful of coins for food and the cost of a cheap but hostel he used as a youth.  I still have mixed feelings about Hadesh.  Hopefully he is the one that Helna was meeting and she didn't die for nothing.

I spent most of the rest of the day touring the city.  Hadesh's advice was excellent, though even the most uninformed traveler would eventually have stumbled upon the gigantic structure of The Water Palace of Ran Dagaan, yet another of Laelaz's Nine Wonders (excluding the Lost Palace, that is six down, two to go for me).  A truly wonderous structure of glittering gold, gems, and cascading water, I stood for a long while gazing at it, before realizing that it is ultimately a structure dedicated to worshipping warfare and killing, which did not sit well with my frame of mind.

Still rather traumatized by the events of the past month, I woke up the next morning with a burning desire to get to New Belwed as soon as possible.  I traded the functional soft leather clothes the Amazons had given me for cheap rags and a small bag of coins, which I then used to book passage on a small ship leaving that very morning.

#### **Day 102-133 - New Belwad**

New Belwad is a large, clean, well organized city of grandiose stone buildings that looks almost identical to what you would see in Belara except for the higher concentration of local peoples, particularly the Imuuga.  It doesn't take long for me to remember why I don't like Belarans though.  Slaves are everywhere and the economy is largely driven by export of slaves as well a highly addictive substances known as Xexe beans.  The Belarans are just as brutal and jingoistic as they are back in Westrasi, and arrogant soldiers and flapping flags are everywhere in the harbor.  It took me nearly thirty minutes to find the Imperial Bureau of Colonization building where my cousin worked despite the fact it was one of the largest buildings visible from the docks since the slaves were too afraid to halt their appointed tasks even for a second, and the Belarans, even the lower class ones, refused to interact with someone of such visible low status (I was beginning to deeply regret trading my Amazon leathers for threadbare rags yesterday in order to pay for the passage to New Belwad, though in hindsight, Amazon fashion is pretty revealing and somewhat fetish-y by Westrasi standards, so I probably would have still been treated like a xexe addicted whore).  I was called a whore or a beggar countless times before I got two words into my queries, spat on twice, and when I finally got to the IBC's regional exploration office, guards shouted, jeered, and threw small rocks at me before I could get anywhere near the building.  It took me an additional four hours to locate my cousin's mansion, where I was let in very quickly the moment I asked for him by name, my first warning that my cousin wasn't the man I remembered.

I spent several hours waiting in the "whore room", really just a closet with a tiny window and a bedpan in it.  Although I had identified myself by first name, I hadn't identified myself as a cousin, since I was worried I would be dismissed as a scam artist by the guards when they were clearly willing to let me in based on the belief that I was a common street worker.  I spent the time wondering why Yorden would take up whoring so soon after marriage, and also why his guards won't expect someone with a bit more "class".  Eventually Yorden did show up, well after nightfall.  No doubt the guard found no reason to mention me to him until he was well fed and rested after a hard day's work.

Yorden had always been a bit of a smartass growing up, but I found his opening remark to me; "I see you have discovered a new line of work during your travels, you look like cheap whore cousin" rather lacking in empathy, and not remotely funny.  He then handed me two books.  To my shock, I realized that they were my personal and work journals, which I had thought lost in Ecinev.  He explained that my personal journal had somehow found its way to a printing house in Ecinev, where some lecherous writer had rewrote parts of it as a sexual fantasy adventure.  A friend of Yorden (probably Yorden himself) had purchased one of the many printed copies of the rewrite while visiting Ecinev, but had recognized enough of my background and future plans in the story to have reason to make some enquiries into my whereabouts.  Although Yorden couldn't locate me in Ecinev, he did purchase the original copies of my work and personal journal to look for clues as to my current location.  Once upon a time I would have been horrified to learn that my personal thoughts and fears being widely shared for such purposes, though compared to the events of the past month it was now only moderately irritating.

Yorden then declared me filthy and ordered his maids to bath and dress me so that I could be presented to his lovely wife.  It had been many weeks since I had a proper bath by that point, and I spent an hour being thoroughly scrubbed followed by another hour getting my hair woven into some silly, elaborate pattern, while simultaneously trying on various constricting dresses.  The scars on my sternum proved to be particularly challenging, since showing a bit of décolletage has been fashionable here in the jungles of the southeast for the past few decades.  Eventually someone thought of loaning me an elaborate necklace with many small dangling chains.  Of course by the time I was ready Yorden's wife had gone to bed, so I spent another twenty minutes being undressed so I could redo the whole process again tomorrow.  The bed was unquestionably amazing though, and I feel into a deep sleep untroubled by nightmares for the first time in weeks.

The next morning (after another bath and dress up) I finally met Yorden's wife, Vayladaria.  Despite being a minor noble, and fairly sharp looking, Vayladaria hadn't been able to attract a high tier suitor among her own countryfolk, so was instead married to Yorden about four years back in order to bring the highly accomplished Yorden into her family's orbit.  Already half Belaran thanks to his mother, Yorden left Helias when he was just sixteen and rose up through the ranks of the IBC extremely rapidly thanks to his intelligence, skill, risk taking, and bloodline (his Belaran mother is sister to a baron, which makes him a noble of sorts in Belaran society despite being a foreigner).  The breakfast was interesting if a bit stifling.  I had forgotten how much I hate upper class society.  Yorden is as sharp and enthusiastic as ever, but Belaran society seems to have removed his sense of empathy.  Vayladaria was the model wife and hostess, but I sensed something was a bit off with her too.

Despite all the endless setbacks of past three and a half months, I had still managed to arrive in New Belwad almost two weeks earlier than expected thanks to the unusually fast voyage of the Free Spirit to Nulamore.  Therefore I was stuck in New Belwad for nearly a month.

It didn't take long for me to despise the local culture.  Despite the Westrasi aesthetics, there really wasn't much distinguishing New Belwed from the Nanji.  Although domestic slaves and serfs dressed in a modest tropical adaptation to Belaran fashions, it was clear they were chosen for their looks.  I never saw Yorden forcing himself on a servant, but it was clear that many of his guests had prior approval to do so.  Vayladaria and many of the other upper class women had clearly also let power get to their heads, and particularly when guests weren't around, Vayladaria delighted in physically and verbally abusing servants, as well as creating messes for them to clean.  Even worst, it gradually became clear that several of Yorden's clique frequented clubhouses where absolutely anything was a possibility if you had the coins.  Non-domestic slaves also had things pretty bad, several local industries were notorious for working "new purchases" to death within years, or even months.

Having nearly ended up in a similar position, I found myself avoiding eye contact with or giving orders to the domestic slaves, and after two days avoided the mansion as much as possible to wander the city, only returning to eat or sleep.  Now dressed as a proper Belaran noblewoman, the soldiers and common folk who were so abusive to me on my first day were now loathsomely ubiquitous.

It goes without saying that I shared as little of my travels between Ecinev and New Belwed as possible with Yorden and Vayladaria, or anyone else for that matter.  Now lacking a clear goal or new distractions until Yorden was ready to begin his voyage, I found myself spending increasing amounts of time dwelling on the negative moments during my travels so far.  I began drinking fairly heavily and occasionally causing a ruckus, but Yorden and Vayladaria seemed to simply take this as a sign of my emotional fragility and ignored it.

Despite my dislike for them, I had to admit Yorden and Vayladaria were highly effective as a couple.  Apparently they secretly decided early in their marriage not to have children for about a decade or so in order to allow Vayladaria to focus her energy on serving Yorden as his de facto senior advisor.  She is extremely knowledgeable and as smart as a whip, which makes her insufferably arrogant when not playing the "virtuous hostess" (which all of Yorden's friends knew was an act, once the drinks started flowing she was as foul mouthed and jaded as the rest of them).

As the day of our departure approached, I gradually realized that both Yorden and Vayladaria saw me as a valuable asset though.  The observations of my journals had evidently impressed them, and despite my best efforts, they had clearly worked out what had happened to me following my kidnapping in Ecinev.  They saw this "experience" in dealing with tribal peoples as being valuable given some of the places we intented to stop.  Despite assurances that we would always be accompanied by professional soldiers, I knew there was going to be at least one scary encounter on the trip since I had yet to meet "Meg" as foretold by the Sisilian hag months ago.

Anyways, tomorrow is our departure date, so I finally summoned the courage to update my personal journal with the events of the past two months, hopefully the second half of my journey will not be as wretched.

#### **Day 134 Highland Bean Farmer Cantons**

The basic premise of Yorden's expedition is to try to locate additional safe ports and trading partners so that Belara could fully dominate the north and east coasts. For this trip he is using a large galleon known as The Divine Right. Its crew is almost twice that of the Free Spirit, and included included a detachment of soldiers as well.

I woke up early this morning in order to be dressed by the maids in time for the launch ceremony. The crew spent about an hour sweating in full uniform in parade formation while Yorden spewed platitudes for a while. Luckily I was seated somewhat off to the side so no one could see me nodding off or stifling yawns.

Our first stopping point upon leaving New Belwed is a muddy jungle town in the Beanfarmer Cantons known as Oaxarit, where the ship stopped for the night in order to allow Yorden to check up on xexe bean quotas. Despite being a theoretically independent region, large swathes of land in the Beanfarmer Cantons are owned by Belaran trading companies and nobles. What exactly Yorden was checking up on I never found out. Evidently Yorden did not feel he needed my observations for the visit since I was left on the ship.

#### **Day 135-136 - Radmir (Theocracy of Radmir)**

The ship left Oaxarit early in the morning for a day long haul to the City of Radmir. For the first time in a month, I got to dress myself without maids, in clothing that didn't have three layers of skirts. We reached Radmir in the early evening, and the senior crew rented several suites in a fancy inn for a night of casual dinning and strategizing.

Radmir is an ally of the Merchant League and not particularly friendly with the Belarans. I can't really blame them given I don't like Belarans myself, though given that Radmir allies themselves with slavers like Ecinev and Mai-Xi, I doubt they can claim too much moral superiority. Yorden lets me loose to wander the city. I am not a stupid woman and am well aware he considers me to be a somewhat expendable spy who can use her backstory of being a globe trotting traveler to see and listen to things that others may miss. It is tempting to provide misinformation to them out of spite, but Yorden and Vayladaria are too smart to easily fooled, and I am worried they may restrict my ability to explore our various stopping points if I don't make myself useful.

I spend the night wandering about the docks, and the next morning visiting the main sights of the city. The biggest attraction is of course The Black Cathedral, a massive complex made of a single black stone block, shaped by unknown means (another of Laelaz's Wonders, at this point there is only one remaining I haven't visited, not counting the Lost Palace). The people of Radmir are friendly enough, and law and order is generally maintained, though I find the fact that they are a theocracy a bit strange, particularly as a lax follower of a relatively moderate Chapel.

We left the city early afternoon. I never found out what Yorden and Vayladaria got up to while I was exploring, but Yorden hinted he was visiting some contacts with information relevant to our later travels.

#### **Day 137 - Xei-Xi (Mai-Xi Dynasty)**

We berthed in Xei-Xi late in the night following our departure from Radmir. Although fully capable of staying at sea for many weeks, Mai-Xi was slaver territory, and it is safer to seek shelter in harbors run by what is left of the government than to risk running into slavers in open water. Trained sailors in particular fetch good money.

We unfortunately ended up berthed next to a slaver ship unloading its cargo. It was full of wailing "merchandise" no doubt captured from a raid on a coastal village within Bean Farmer territory. I had some severe flashbacks to my time with the Nanji, vomited over the railing, and spent about two hours crying in my room.

#### **Day 138-143 - Ocean (off the Mai-Xi/Radmir coast)**

Nothing happened over the past couple days, but the threat of slavers was always present during the first day or so, and I developed a bit of a tremor several times just thinking about ending up back on the auction block.

We bypassed the island of Prossa Magna. No doubt Belara would love to establish relations with them, but it wasn't seen as being worth running the blockage maintained by Radmir.

I am becoming increasingly worried by what Yorden has in mind once we leave the Radmirian waters. Yorden keeps hinting that he has contacts in the Drache, but nothing lives there that I am keen on meeting...

#### **Day 145 - Marshes of Drache**

Apparently step one in Yorden's plan to help the Kingdom of Belara rule the east coast is to investigates ways to establish a permanent port along the coast of The Marshes of Drache. If that sounds like a bad idea, that is because it is. The Drache is an incoherent mess of feral tribes, most of which are non-human. But Yorden has contacts with certain powers further inland, in a region only spoken of in whispers.
About thirty of us departed The Divine Right for the inland expedition. A dozen soldiers plus two combat trained mages, six porters, four minor Company officials, three domestic slaves, plus myself, Yorden, (and to my surprise) Vayladaria. And then of course there is the "guide", a rather unhinged woman named Doralis, who has been with us since New Belwed, but who I have always avoided when possible.
Despite being referred to as a marsh, this far south most of the land is still covered in jungle, though it is a bit cooler than the Ram's Head jungles, and the trees are more spaced out. The bugs and humidity are still wretched though, and large tracks of land are flooded. However, Doralis seems to know where she is going. I wouldn't really say we are following a road, but clearly someone has mapped out the dry areas, and painstakingly expanded them with drainage ditches, and connected them with dredged earth.
Enough writing for tonight. I will try to get some sleep despite the deafening roar of amphibian and insect calls, and constant paranoia about tribal ambushes and poisonous vermin.

Oh look, it also started raining. Unlike Yorden and Vayladaria I am not important enough to get a full tent and folding beds carried around for me, so tonight will not be a great night.

#### **Day 146 - Marshes of Drache**

Today was rather miserable. It rained the entire day, quite heavily for most of it. Everyone got soaked and muddy except Yorden and Vayladaria who commandeered two of the pack capybara as mounts and had large umbrellas held over their heads everywhere they went. Still, you can only have so much luxury on a march through a swampy jungle, and much to my secret annoyance Yorden and Vayladaria seemed to treat every inconvenience they faced as mildly amusing.
We have yet to encounter any of the tribes of the Drache, but we have encountered several traps. Someone almost got stabbed in the groin by a spike attached to a bent branch, and a slave got caught in a snare trap, but was cut down without injury. A number of other traps were spotted and disabled.

Yorden still hasn't revealed who we are meeting yet, but I assume it must be the Treant Empire since who else in the area except for the Necroswampers would have the power to support a year round port. And no one is insane enough to deal with the Necroswampers, I am pretty sure they don't even exist, just a bunch of old horror stories taking place somewhere where almost no one visits. The prospect of having another encounter with the Treant Empire is not something I am looking forward to.

#### **Day 147 - Marshes of Drache**

I killed a sentient being for the second time in my life today.
We were struggling through a second day of heavy rain when we came under attack by a wave of painted women and men firing arrows and wielding clubs. At first I though they were one of the feral tribes of the Drache, but then I recognized them from stories as Icamiabas, distant cousins of the Maaga Amazons, who are used as border guards by the Treant Empire along their northeast border.
I told Yorden this, thinking this was all a misunderstanding since I was still under the impression we were meeting emissaries of the Treant Empire. But he merely smiled, said there was no misunderstanding, and ordered me into the fray. Going toe to toe with experienced warriors seemed rather suicidal, so I skirted the edge of the main fight looking for an opportunity to use my magick to dissuade any flankers. A Belaran crossbowman just in front of me collapsed with an arrow embedded in his eye socket. His killer was a small-ish woman about ten meters away. Not trusting my magick at such a distance, I dived for the dropped crossbow, scooped it up, and fired a hasty shot at the woman, which to my surprise hit her dead on.
Barely a second later, some sort of horn was blown, and the remaining Icamiabas fled the area.
We lost five soldiers and a mage in the skirmish, plus four more wounded. Two porters, a clerk, and a slave fled during the battle, I suspect we won't be seeing them again. The Icamiabas left twelve dead. They had evidently underestimated the Belaran soldiers and mages, who were all well trained and battle hardened.
To my dismay, I discovered that the woman I killed looked a lot like Helna, my former Amazon comrade murdered by Iris. Her quiver was empty, so both her and myself likely would have left the battle unharmed if the horn had been blown a few seconds earlier.

#### **Day 148 - Marshes of Drache**

I spent last night and most of this morning wondering why I didn't feel more guilty about killing the Icamiabas woman. Iris's death had left me struggling with my morals for days, and she had clearly deserved it more. I also am not as high strung as when I was in the past after a near death experience. I suspect my personality is gradually changing, and not for the better.

Yorden officially announced we are visiting the Necroswampers around noon. Apparently he had waited until this point to prevent desertions. I had a bit of a panic attack (hopefully unnoticed by anyone else, though I think almost everyone took the news badly) and spent the rest of the day trying to quell my nerves. I guess I am not as emotionally desensitized as I thought after all.

We are to reach our destination late tomorrow evening if all goes well.

Because why wouldn't we want to visit some nightmarish evil lair full of undead monstrosities taken straight from the worst horror stories just after nightfall.

#### **Day 149 - Necroswamper Territory**

My first encounter with the undead occurred at the border of Necroswamper territory. We passed a line of bound and impaled corpses, struggling futilely in their bonds even after death. I can't help but wonder if they are simply mindless puppets enchanted to do so, or if some part of their past selves still exist within those rotting frames. Based on my own experiences, I know the second possibility can occur.

Undead are rare but not unheard of in Westrasi, particularly in the more remote pagan lands, old crypts, and sites of great tragedy. It is said they come in many forms, but are so rare that no attempt has been made to categorize them. In the Ram's Head though they are a bit more common, so I know that undead of no particular power that still have most of their flesh are known as zombies.

We encountered many more zombies as we travelled through the Necroswamper lands, as well as a few animated skeletons. All simply stared at us passively, clearly expecting us. Many were once human, either painted Icamiabas or hairy Drache tribals, but other beings were present as well including lizardmen, goblins, hobgoblins, various types of beastmen, araknea, ogres, dryads, wood elves, and even a treant.

Several of our entourage went missing throughout the day, but no one knew whether they had slipped away to desert, or had been grabbed by unseen forces. Needless to say, most of us were clearly terrified by this point, except for Yorden, Vayladaria, and a few of the more experienced soldiers. One of the slaves became hysterical and had to be knocked out and slung over one of the luggage cabybaras.

We saw our destination long before we reached it. A massive black citadel, rising above a city of at least one hundred towers. It was nightfall by the we actually reached the city, and the rate at which disappearances occurred had steadily increased the closer we got to the city. By the time we reached the city there was only a dozen of us left, and no one had seen how the disappearances occurred.

The city itself was beyond horrifying swarms of undead were everywhere tearing down and rebuilding structures at random. Most were zombies or skeletons, but some were far more exotic creations, many of which will no doubt haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life (which may not be very long in a place like this). Some living folk seemed to be about as well, though poor hygiene and strange body modifications made it hard to tell the living from the dead.

By the time we were brought into the throne room within the great citadel, we were down to just eight. As always, no one ever seemed to see when a disappearance occurred, though there was plenty of opportunities to sneak off or get snatched as we were lead through nearly pitch black corridors, and crumbling crawl spaces. The inside of the citadel made no logical sense. Corridors lead to dead ends, bedrooms were connected to grand ballrooms via dusty tunnels you had to draw through, and twice we passed through sewers that must have been well above ground level.

The throne room was one of the most terrifying things I have seen in my life (and it has lots of competition these days). A circular chamber jam-packed with undead of all sorts sitting on pews facing the central throne. The smell was unbelievably bad, and I dry heaved several times while following the others down the central aisle. Several others had similar reactions and even Yorden held a handkerchief to his face for a bit before he noticed Vayladaria smirking at him. No one seemed to mind though, the dead were silent and unmoving.

The figure on the throne was thin and freakishly tall. It wore heavy robes, and appeared to have tubes coming in and out of his body at various points. It sat there fidgeting and mumbling to itself for several minutes while Yorden waited patiently to be acknowledged. The tension was brutal, and I was on the verge of screaming at the top of my lungs for something to happen when suddenly another figure stepped out from behind the throne, and moved forward to address us. "She" was some sort of conjoined twin, though whether joined before or after death it was hard to say.

She said "come with me", and Yorden, Vayladaria, the two surviving company officials, and the two surviving soldiers lugging a heavy chest went with her. Me and the surviving slave tried to follow them but were blocked by several undead. One of them whispered "you rest now". Yorden and his entourage kept walking like they didn't realize they were two members short. I briefly wondered if this is what happened to the other disappeared party members. I tried calling out, but terror had tightened my throat, and I did nothing as two undead freaks dragged me away. To my surprise, we ended up in a lavish, if decaying and dusty, bedroom. I stood staring at the bed for a while, hoping the undead would leave, but they never did. As I am writing this entry, they are still standing, watching, silent.

I don't think I am getting any sleep tonight...

If someone finds this journal and this is the last entry, I am probably dead and transformed into some ugly undead freak. Hopefully Yorden is likewise dead. If not, please kill him.

If you are reading this Yorden, I hope some hag makes you immortal and tosses you in a fire for the rest of eternity. You deserve no less.

#### **Day 150-155 - Marshes of Drache**

Surprisingly I did maybe get one hour of sleep last night due to sheer exhaustion, then I woke up, realized the undead were still in the room, and couldn't get back to sleep.

Sometime after dawn, the undead (all five of them) said "come with me" and I was reunited with the slave, Yorden and his five companions, plus eight other individuals I assumed dead. Yorden had also somehow acquired eight massive chests of gold, which some zombie ogres carried outside where they were loaded onto a (living) elephant drawn wagon. Somehow I don't think I want to know what he traded or promised to get the gold.

The trip back to the ship was thankfully uneventful. Everyone had been very shaken up by what they had seen, except for Yorden and Vayladaria of course. I asked some of the party members who had been reunited with us what happened to them and I got a mix of strange answers and bizarre stories, which given my own experiences don't really seem that far fetched. There are still several unaccounted for though, and I shutter to think what happened to them.

We noticed signs of improvement all along the "road". Apparently whatever the Lich and Yorden had agreed to has already resulted in some benefits (aside from the gold obviously). As a show of strength, the forces of Lich had also apparently hunted down any potentially hostile warbands in the area. We passed two forests of impaled goblins and a tree with several Icamiabas nailed to it. Naturally the impaled/nailed corpses were zombified for extra intimidation factor.

I don't think I got more than two hours of sleep of continual sleep during the trip back without being awoken by a nightmare or some noise. Everyone knew we were being watched, particularly at night, but we rarely saw the watchers. Every once in a while we would walk past a zombie or a skeleton standing docilely in the open, or someone would spot one hunched in cover. I suppose we should be thankful that they are there to protect us, but that didn't stop me from nearly jumping out of my skin the one time I walked around a large tree and nearly bumped into one with some sort of giant leach embedded in its body.

The only time we encountered other sentient life was a small tribe of "Blemmyes" just before we got back to the ship. Truly bizarre creatures that have faces in their bodies, and no heads, once upon a time I would have found them frightening to look at, particularly the females, but now they are just a minor footnote to a truly terrifying expedition. Luckily the Blemmyes simply wandered off after watching us for a while.

#### **Day 156-157 - Ocean (Off Coast of Marshes of Drache)**

It is a three day trip before we got to the next stopping point on our journey. I figure it is a toss up between some Drache warlord, cannibal cultists, and vampires. Hard to say which ones is less appealing. At least I can sleep knowing that some undead lurker isn't watching over me. This did not stop the nightmares however.

I confronted Yorden about how many people we lost reaching the Necroswampers, but he simply made a snide joke about "weight in gold" and another about "wanting to see the world". I avoided Yorden even more after that conversation.

#### **Day 158 - Komjatina Enclave**

It was vampires. Seriously how does Yorden think that negotiating with the likes of liches and vampires is not going to backfire somehow. Thankfully they didn't expect us to march through the swamps the same way the Lich had. Instead they had a small enclave set up on a small island along the coast for encounters such as this.

The enclave was a small fortress that reminded me a bit of The Foreign Port in Celestia. It was full of grim soldiers and functionaries, and clearly designed to project a sense of power. Rooms and corridors had high ceilings, tall window slits that barely let in any light, and crests, paintings, and banners everywhere. I was part of the dozen or so members of the "outer entourage" who got to enter the inner keep, but yet again missed the main negotiations, which only Yorden, Vayladaria, and two company officials took part in. Instead I hung around an empty banquet hall with the seven other nobodies while grim faced soldiers watched over us. My barely contained terror of being served up as a refreshment gradually gave way moderate nervousness over a period of six hours.

Most of the guards were human, but a few hobgoblins and drow were present as well. All three races were curious to look at (discretely), particularly since there was nothing else to do for the several hours Yorden was away talking. The humans looked like they might have been once of Westrasi stock, but everything about them was paler than it should have been, like all the colors were drained out of them Their eyes were almost pure black, and I found myself wondering if they were vampires before I realized it was probably some sort of adaptation to the lightless environment of their homeland. I have seen one drow and several hobgoblins before, but they were still unusual enough to be worth stealing glances at. Despite the fact that the guards seemed superbly disciplined, neither myself or any of those with me had to the courage to ask them for food, drinks, or directions to a privy, or even make eye contact for that matter, so instead we mostly sat or stood in silence while occasionally making failed attempts at small talk among ourselves.

Yorden and the others eventually showed up to retrieve us. It is hard to say whether he got what he came for though, since like always, his facial expression was that of arrogant condensation. Not that I really cared though, the fact that we were off the island and back on the ship without anything terrible happening is a win in my books.

#### **Day 159-169 - Ocean (Off Coast of Marshes of Drache/Seem)**

I suppose I haven't updated my journal in a while, honestly not much has happened that I have never experienced before. For about a day or so we were close enough to Komjatina to see the strange cloud of darkness shrouding it if you looked through a looking glass. We got hit by a major storm two days later, but I have had worse and knew enough to stay below decks this time.

We made a brief stop in some nameless village in Seem for some fresh fruits and vegetables. Seem is a weird place, it reminds me a bit of Tautoburg back in Westrasi, and I was quite pleased with the fact that Yorden had no risky schemes involving this place, since I have heard many horrifying theories about the true nature of its inhabitants and their seeming lack of individual identities.

#### **Day 170-171 - Ta-Li Hold**

After several more days at sea we reached the Belaran colony of Ta-Li. From what little I saw, it reminded me a great deal of New Belwed, a perfect copy of a Belaran city but in a foreign land, with only the high percentage of Qi-Fu people providing evidence we were not in Westrasi. We pulled into the harbor late at night, and left the next morning after restocking on basic supplies. Most of the crew weren't allowed to leave the ship, and most that could didn't even bother leaving, including myself. I was feeling rather tired from too many sleepless nights either dwelling on what-ifs, or waking up from nightmare. I am also increasingly certain my encounter with "Meg" will likely occur in the near future.

#### **Day 172-180 - Ocean (Off Coast of Qi-Fu)**

Again it has been a while since I have updated my journal. There seems little point. Days seem to blur together, and although I feel as though I am coming to terms with certain events of the past few months, my trepidation about the encounter with Meg is steady growing. I have never really made friends among the Belarans, and I find myself dearly missing the crew of The Free Spirit, where I could always rely on friendly chats and other social activities to take my mind off of mental traumas.

Apparently Yorden has pressing business in Mie-Liz, since we headed straight there at full speed from Ta-Li, passing a number of other large cities in the process.

We should be arriving tomorrow. Then we get to see what all the fuss is about.

#### **Day 181 - Mie-Liz (Qi-Fu)**

Mie-Liz is a strange place. On one hand it is massive. Clearly the capital of a large nation that once ruled over an even larger empire. On the other hand, it is has definitely seen better days. Large swathes of the city have been allowed to fall into ruin. The similarities to the Celestial Empire are also strange.

Despite being over 3000 kilometers away, the architecture and clothing worn in Qi-Fu are very similar to what I saw in the Foreign Quarter in Celestia. The Qi-Fu themselves are visually a bit different though, with pale skin and black hair, though the facial structure is similar to the Suoxi, particularly the eyes.

It is also a lot colder here than along the southern coast of the Celestial Empire. Between the northern elevation and the fact it is now early autumn, it is actually starting to get a bit chilly at night, though I have been told the weather is in fact unseasonably warm.

Anyways, about a dozen of us accompanied Yorden to "The Old Palace" a massive complex apparently based on the Ancient Celestial Palace, one of Laelaz's Wonders, now long lost. I can see why Laelaz would give the Celestial Palace the number one spot if it looked anything like this. Consisting of at least thirty large buildings covered in elaborate carvings and wood work, hundreds of smaller buildings, and dozens of courtyards, ponds, and plazas, the Palace truly is the size of a small city.

Unfortunately, parts of it have fallen into ruin, and other parts are poorly maintained. Apparently the Royal Family sold the Palace a few generations back in order to raise funds and cut upkeep costs, and it has gone through several owners since then. The current owners are a loose alliance of oni drug lords, a sure sign as any how far Qi-Fu has fallen. Yorden is meeting a pair of oni named Gaki and Hisame.

Gaki and Hisame seem a bit megalomaniacal even by oni standards. Their symbol has been painted in thousands of places all over their territory within the Palace, and is also branded into their slaves and soldiers. Speaking of slaves, they are all dressed far too lightly for the current temperature, and all wear wear porcelain masks with expressions of joy, cheerfulness, or good natured puzzlement, which I am sure in no way resembles the actual facial expressions underneath. Still, they seem well looked after, in the manner in which prized pets are well looked after. Hair is done up in elaborate patterns, nails painted, skin clean and perfumed, and piercings hung with valuable materials.

Evidently we arrived to late to meet with Gaki and Hisame, so we are staying the night in moderately luxurious chambers. It would all be rather nice if this place didn't remind me of the Nanji mansions so much.

#### **Day 182 - Mie-Liz (Qi-Fu)**

Looks like I just became a slave again, no thanks to Yorden. At least he finally got what's coming to him. Better yet, I am being transported to the hag known as Meg as a gift.

I suppose I should backtrack a bit in case anyone ever reads this journal.

We met with Gaki and Hisame early in the morning. For once Yorden brought his whole entourage to the discussion rather than just his inter circle Probably because unlike him very few of us spoke the local language, so we had no idea what is going on anyways. Unfortunately that meant I was stuck in the middle when things when bad. Whatever Yorden said to the oni wasn't well received, and after a brief skirmish, Yorden, his guards, and anyone else who put up a fight were dead, and myself, Vayladaria, and a few others were captured.

I was taken down to a cell and interrogated for several hours. Unlike Iris or Hadesh they were brutal and unsophisticated. Luckily this time I had my journals on me though, and someone read through them and realized I was no one important to the Belarans. Unfortunately, they realized I could be useful in other ways though. Apparently Gaki and Hisame have dealings with a hag named Meg, and have decide they can sell me to her at high profit. I was dragged back to the throne room and forced to kneel before Gaki and Hisame. I forgot to mention earlier how unpleasant they were. Despite being twins, they look nothing alike. Gaki is obese, heavily tattooed, and looks more like an ogre that an oni. Hisame on the other hand is a lean attractive female who has an iron mask she constantly puts on a takes off. She briefly inspected my curse before declaring it had been laid by a powerful hag and musing I would likely be worth a lot of money to Meg. With that I was dragged back to my cell, where to my surprise my journals had been left on a side table. Perhaps just an oversight on their part, but I don't question it.

So here I am, writing in my journal. I suppose I should be terrified, but after everything I have gone through lately, I merely feel exhausted, resentful, and strangely resigned to the fact that my meeting with Meg is inevitable.

#### **Day 183-190 - Ocean (Off Coast of the Khanate)**

I would have probably written in my journals more if they hadn't been taken from me and read by various crew members for entertainment, though I suppose there hasn't been much to write about. Yet again I find myself in a cage onboard a ship. Although unpleasant I am sadly rather accustomed to it by now. The crew is a mix bag of humans, goblins, and hobgoblins in the service of the oni. They seem to operate halfway between a religious cult and a bunch of drug addicts, but appear fairly competent. We were able to traverse one of the most dangerous stretches of water on the planet, where storms are frequent, and piracy by the men of the Khanates and the Land of Skrug is common, but luckily we have yet to encounter a significant problem that I am aware of.

I am cold. And I am tired of all this.

#### **Day 191 - Outskirts of Damekowska (Queendom of Ruskata)**

Despite the fact that I am chained up in an abandoned dog kennel, freezing, and listening to the wretched screams of people being flayed alive, I suppose things could have gone much worse (at least for me).

Again, I suppose I am getting ahead of myself...

After a week at sea following our departure from Mie-Liz, we arrived at the hardy fishing village of Damekowska in Ruskata. A small, but well fortified community of unsquared lumber and muddy roads, at first glance it seemed pretty mundane. But the inhabitants are rather unusual compared to what I am used to. Despite apparently recognizing the ship I was on, they came out in force to greet us. Both the men and women are tall, strong, and imposing, and even the women sometimes carried two handed weapons usually only favored by the stronger of southern warriors. Several women also appeared to be spellcasters, but strangest of all was the bizarre walking house that the inhabitants apparently use as some sort of mobile watch tower.

Upon discovering we had business with Meg however, most of them kept their distance, while a few local priestesses led the Qi-Fu party, including myself, to a run-down farm several kilometers from the village, where apparently Meg makes her home.

Meg is just as ugly as the Sisilian hag, but skeletally thin rather than fat, and dressed in dried skins rather than nothing. Yet again I had no idea what was going on since I didn't speak either language being used, but it seems things didn't go well. Meg became rather upset, and cast some sort of spell that caused everyone, including myself, to become freezing cold and lethargic. She then summoned her freakish servants from the holes and collapsed buildings they had been hiding in. Foul creatures, they seem to have been once human, but then completely flayed of their skin, and covered in rotting animal skins and furs. To my horror, I could somehow sense they were in extreme agony but bound to the will of the hag, not unlike those bound to the Sisilian hag.

I panicked and tried to stumble away, but they easily caught me and brought me before the hag.

Without even having to be prompted, I hastily relayed the Sisilian hag's message, still burned in my memory despite all the intervening months. I felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from me, and I knew that part of the curse had been lifted, though the part that prevented me from relaying it to anyone else would likely be with me forever.

Meg thanked me for the message, and ordered a priestess to chain me up in the old dog kennel in order to avoid having to witness "a certain unpleasant necessity". I suppose I am still in pretty deep trouble, but I had a feeling I avoided a very bad ending, and when the screams started echoing through the forest, I finally made the connection between the skins Meg wears, and her skinless servants.

So here I am, cold, confused, and terrified.

Hopefully bringing Meg her message would get me some sense of gratitude though, even if it was under duress.

#### **Day 192-195 - Damekowska (Queendom of Ruskata)**

The last few days have been strange to say the least. After leaving me chained outside for several hours, Meg and the priestesses decided for unknown reasons to let me go and declared me an honored guest.

I was brought back to the village, allowed to clean myself up, given warmer clothes, and introduced to the key players in the village. The Ruskata are surprisingly hospitable when they want to be, and I find myself in pleasant company for perhaps the first time since Pash. I spend my days talking with the priestesses about my travels, and my nights getting drunk with the villagers. Despite the fact that I am well aware I am being treated as an intelligence asset, and that the priestesses can be truly sadistic when they want to be, I find I don't really care anymore. After all the misery of the last few months, I have finally been presented with an opportunity to enjoy myself, so I am going to make the most of it. Besides, there is something about the Ruskata that remind me of the Sisilians on the Free Spirit crew. They are very nasty people if you cross them, but great fun to be around once you have been accepted into their community.

I know at some point I should try to head back to Westrasi before winter comes and makes the northern coast inaccessible to shipping, but the priestesses have convinced me they can safely show me the most interesting sights in Northedge in return for my insights into the cultures I encounter there. There is already talk of including me in a diplomatic mission to either Sanukinuiq or Skrug.

#### **Day 196-198 - Frozen Kingdom of Skrug**

The last few days have been odd yet wonderful. The priestesses decided that I should join a small group of junior magick users known as "Crows" who were on an expedition to carry messages to other nations in the north. They mostly wanted my perspective on the various northern cultures, but I suspect they were also trying to win me over for unknown reasons.

The Crows travel by flying on enchanted broomsticks. A rather unusual mode of transportation that I have heard stories of, but always assumed was a myth. Flying mounts are not that unusual, after all, both wyvern and hippogriffs are used in Westrasi, and more exotic mounts like the sky whales used elsewhere, but there is something a bit strange about enchanting a common household item like a broom. They are highly effective though, and in no time I found myself clinging for dear life to a Crow named Zivka as we skimmed flew at high speeds along the coast line.

Flying is a very exhilarating experience, and despite my worries I could fall at any time, I found myself actually enjoying it after a while. I wish I brought warmer clothes and some sort of face covering though, the cold ocean winds seem ten times worse up here.

Our first stop was the coastal village of Drifagun. A long time nemesis of Damekowska, they had recently come to an uneasy peace so that Ruskata could focus its efforts on fending of the Khanate. The lead Crow delivered a sealed message to the village chief, before we were invited to a rambunctious celebration feast. A raiding ship from the village had apparently boarded a Qi-Fu passenger vessel and had captured a fair bit of gold, as well as high value commodities including caskets of wine, rolls of silk, and of course women.

The main drinking hall was a large structure filled with many long tables capable of seating the entire village, half a dozen fire pits down the center, and shields, weapons, and other trophies hanging on the walls. In addition to the local folk, there were several dwarves and trolls present.

As guests of honor, we sat at the head table along with the chief's inner circle, and guests from nearby villages, and of course the trolls. I was very intimidated by the trolls, large creatures with big heads and even bigger teeth that seemed to have an inexhaustible appetite for meat. Luckily I wasn't seated near any of the trolls, but there a strange woman seated across from me a few seats to my left who was nearly as intimidating. Despite her beauty and complete lack of clothes, the nearby Vargr seemed rather uncomfortable being around her. Perhaps it was her unnatural appetite, or perhaps it was the giant bear dozing behind her (I later found out she was a female troll in disguise).

As the night went on, and everyone got more and more drunk, I started to get increasingly nervous for my wellbeing. For this visit I had dressed up as a Crow in hopes that people would leave me alone. I also had to pretend to be mute since I didn't speak any of the local tongues. It worked for a while, or perhaps no one cared enough to challenge it. The Ruskata are a strange mix racially, with some resembling folk from the Khanates, or even Qi-Fu, while others resemble the Vargr, who in turn resemble Westrasi like myself, though taller and thicker, so I sort of fit in as long as I didn't talk. But as the night went on clearly some of the men were losing all sense of inhibition, and clearly my fake muteness or borrowed Crow garb wasn't doing the trick anymore. Apparently the Crows were feeling it a bit too, since we made our excuses and left before the meal was even finished.

We flew to a safe distance away, discussed my impressions of the peoples of Skrug for a while, before camping in the woods with at least three sentries posted at all times.

#### **Day 199-206 - Sunuik (Sanukinuiq)**

I suppose yet again I have been negligent in updating my journal, though this time it was more due to being too busy genuinely enjoying myself rather than due to depression or imprisonment.

After leaving the Kingdom of Skrug, we flew to Sunuik, the "Capital" of Sanukinuiq, a weird mix of Westrasi buildings standing alongside the animal hide, bone, and ice structures of the Nanauit elves.

Unfortunately my Crow companions had to part ways with me here. Apparently not long after we arrived in Sunuik, they received message that they were being called back to the front lines in the war with the Khanate, and it was too dangerous to take me there. Not willing to trust the locals, they gave me a sealed letter to give to a Belaran sea captain who was scheduled to arrive in two days, as well as enough gold to bribe my way onto the Belaran ship on its return journey to Westrasi. Although I didn't know the Crows well enough to call them true friends, I got along with them well enough, particularly Zivka, and was a bit saddened to part ways with them so much earlier than expected. But I was also thrilled with their unexpected generosity, as well as the prospect of finally having a safe way home, so I gave them all hugs goodbye, which some appreciated more than others.

I ended up spending roughly a week in Sunuik since the Belaran ship was delayed by poor weather, but I didn't mind since this was one of my favorite places so far on my world trip. At first the elves were wary of me, assuming I was a witch, but the town was also home to Belaran trade representatives and their servants, and it wasn't long before they figured out I was Westrasi, and word got around. As mentioned in the past, I don't much like Belarans, but this group seemed respectful enough since they knew Yorden and assumed as a family member of his, I must also somehow be engaged in subterfuge on behalf of the Kingdom. Still, I associated with the elves instead as much as possible, and quickly befriended a pair of female twins known as Ulara and Enooya.

The Nanauit elves, often simply called the snow elves, are a strange people. Seemingly immune to the cold, they dress lightly, despite the fact it is late fall. Apparently this fall has been unnaturally warm though, since usually it would have started snowing over a month ago, so I suppose I can't blame them for making the most of "warm" weather, though I nearly froze to death when they convinced me to jump in the "warm" lake. Their strangeness also extends to their choice of mounts, the whale-like akhlut, who can operate on both land and in the sea. I went on several seal hunting expeditions with them, which were interesting, if a bit nerve-racking despite their assurances I won't get too wet. The real highlight to these expeditions was seeing the more unique wildlife, like the snufflrug, groundwhale, tusk-tooth sea turtle, and northern mermaids (though calling mermaids wildlife is a bit unfair). Probably strangest aspect of the snow elves is their magick, which seems to include both music and ice making. Unfortunately I never got to see it in use.

It was with great regret that I boarded the ship to take me back to Westrasi.

#### **Day 207-217 - The Flaming Wyvern (Sanukinuiq-Grendarrym Coastal Regions)**

The trip to Jordheim was interesting enough, if a bit anti-climatic compared to my previous adventures. Not that I am complaining of course, I still often have nightmares of the more perilous segments of my journey, and I still can't look at the captain's personal slave girl without flashbacks of my own time as a slave. Still, I do sometimes find myself wishing something unusual will happen as the ship slowly makes its way back to Westrasi.

The Flaming Wyvern is a sturdily built galleon designed for operation in arctic waters, and the crew is in good spirits that their risky decision to make one last trip along the northern trade route has paid off so handsomely. Aside from the storm that delayed their arrival at Sunuik, they have had fine weather during a time of year it would normally be too dangerous to operate in northern waters, and they have also made a number of profitable deals in the Northedge. The captain is alright for a glorified rapist, and his easy going attitude extends to the rest of his crew, who are friendlier than other Belarans I have encountered in the past, though this isn't saying much.

My own position on the ship is a bit strange. Technically I am a paying passenger (the only one) but the captain knew Yorden personally, and seems to be under the impression I am grieving his death. I most definitely am not, but am willing to play along since has gotten me a free upgrade to a better room, and reminds the status obsessed Belarans that I am a minor noblewoman of sorts. Although I have no interest in making friends here, I get along well enough with some of the senior crew.

The ship makes a number of stops at coastal communities like Iknupiq, Agnar, and Rotun, but having already been to Sunuik, Drifagun, and Damekowska, I find little unique about these communities. The Jorden people physically resemble the Vargr, but are (thankfully) more subdued from what I have seen so far. The Flaming Wyvern never stops in communities for long, generally just long enough to buy supplies or purchase goods from people they missed in the eastward trip. I usually accompany the shore crew out of curiosity, and sometimes buy minor trinkets with my few remaining coins.

Tomorrow we reach Jordheim, hopefully I will have no nightmares tonight, if I don't, it will be three nights in a row of decent sleep.

#### **Day 218-220 - Norvia Stronghold**

We stopped only briefly in Jordheim before proceeding to Norvia Stronghold. A wretched city that reminds me of both New Belwed and the Nanji States, it is currently experiencing an economic boom selling refugees from the ongoing fighting in Vargen, Mokuit, and Ruskata as slaves.

Upon learning this, I decided that I would stay onboard the ship for the duration of the visit, but got a rather unpleasant reminder of my time in the Nanji anyways when the captain purchased a new slave, a young Vargen woman who had willingly come to Norvia Stronghold looking to start a new life away from Khanate raids, but instead was arrested as an enemy spy and sold on the slave market the next day. The ship's captain told this story to the senior staff and esteemed passenger (me) at dinner today, along with a rather distasteful story about how he sold off his previous slave. I was strongly tempted to burn his head off with magick, but eventually settled on trying not to cry until I could find an excuse to leave the table. The captain no doubt though I was still in mourning over Yorden.

What is wrong with these people?

#### **Day 221-223 - City of Odemark (The Cursed Wasteland)**

Two more days of travel by sea took us to our next destination, which luckily was interesting to take my mind off my guilt for a bit. The City of Odemark is a dusty garrison town in the middle of a cold desert on the edge of the poisoned lands of the Waste (more commonly known as The Cursed Wastelands). Few can travel the Waste without becoming sick and dying, but the edges are (relatively) safe. Although mostly just a repair yard, the "City" of Odemark does some side business selling xexe beans to natives in exchange for tech salvage.

During our brief stop in Odemark, I saw some elves from the Raver Clan, who remind me of the technobarbarians of Maag with their strange clothes and masks, as well as some short snuffling cloaked figures.

#### **Day 224-241 - Ocean (Off Coast of The Cursed Wasteland)**

Not much happened this week, which I suppose is the reason I haven't been updating my journal. The captain's new slave isn't taking to her new status very well (who would honestly?). I am feeling increasingly guilty about my unwillingness to confront the captain, but what can I do really? Tomorrow we arrive in Tergaron, hopefully that will take my mind of the situation for a bit.

#### **Day 242 - Tergaron (Izill)**

Tergaron was a bit of a letdown. I had heard many stories of Itzil growing up, but Tergaron is nothing but a tiny hamlet of rusted buildings clustered around a dock. We found the community almost empty when we arrived, with trading season at an end, most of its few inhabitants apparently drift elsewhere.

#### **Day 243-247 - Ocean (Off Coast of Goldland/Belaran Colonies)**

It will take us several more days at sea to reach our final destination before returning to Belara. Despite the poor relations between Belara and the Sarkation Empire, merchant ships like The Flaming Wyvern sometimes make brief stops here to sell exotic goods. It is here I will depart The Flaming Wyvern. Although I have never visited Belara's main cities before, I doubt I will enjoy it given my low opinion of the Belaran people.

I am a bit disappointed that their is no planned stop in Goldland, but I suppose it is only about two weeks journey from my homeland, so I can visit it another time at my leisure.

The thought of finally returning home is bringing up some very mixed feelings in me right now. On one hand, the thought of returning to (mostly) safe, familiar lands where I have countless friends and family is filling me with excitement. On the other hand, I suspect the Westrasi Sea will seem rather bland after my travels. Perhaps I will find excuses to do future trips with either The Free Spirit, or a (carefully vetted and selected) Belaran ship doing the northern route.

Which brings me to another issue.

The captain's slave has become increasingly upset with her new life, and is currently locked in the ship's brig. After countless occasions where I stood by helplessly while bad things occurred around me, I feel a strong sense of obligation to take a risk to do the right thing.

As I have written in the past, the ship's crew is relatively lax. The key is usually hanging from a pillar by the stairs leading down to the bilge deck. And while in friendly ports the captain usually only leaves two or three crew on board, who typically spend their time drinking in the galley.

Re-board the ship once everyone leaves, take the key, unlock the cage, jam an old nail in the lock to make it look like she picked it herself, rescue the girl, put back the key, walk right off the ship like you have every right to do so.

Simple.

#### **Day 248-253 - Sarkation Empire and the Westrasi Sea**

Home at last. I cried for at least an hour upon finally seeing the massive lighthouse on top of the Winged Palazzo of Helias. I pretty much ran full tilt from the harbor to the Nahal mansion where I had many tearful reunions with cousins, aunts, and uncles. Even my parents seemed fairly pleased to see me. I brought along the Ruskata girl, Alexi, and hope to get her some sort of job as a servant if she so wishes. She has been fine company for the past few days, though to be fair I basically saved her life.

I suppose I should provide a bit of a recap. It goes without saying that the rescue plan went perfectly, I don't think anyone even realized I had returned to the ship, and Alexi seemed to instinctively trust me without hesitation. We were probably several hours up the pilgrim road leading to Gloriana before anyone even realized she was gone. Although almost broke by this point, we purchased some cheap pilgrim robes, both as a disguise, but also in order to take advantage of cheap pilgrim hostels along the way.

It was not my first time visiting the massive religious complex at Gloriana, but it is an extremely impressive structure and a good ending for my journeys. Alexi was very impressed by it, though to be fair, she has probably never seen a structure bigger than a mid-sized castle.

I haven't had nearly as many nightmares or flashbacks lately, I believe my decision to rescue Alexi has finally given me the sense of closure I never realized that I needed until recently.

Once we finally reached the Westrasi Sea, it was a simple matter to head to a port town I knew Nahal ships frequently visited, and hitch a free ride with one of my cousins. In a strange coincidence, my cousin Fekia was on board the ship, the same one who had tried to talk me out of my journey back in Uoro at the start of my trip, and I spent the three day trip back to Helias filling her in on every single detail of my travels, since there are few people in the world I trust as much as Fekia, except perhaps a few other cousins, and Sakras of course.

Anyways, back in the present, as I am writing this, I am feeling so many mixed emotions, I don't even know how to put them on paper.

Perhaps it is best I simply end my journal here, and lock it away somewhere until I can truly accept all that has happened. Who knows, maybe one day the whole thing will just seem like one grand adventure rather than what it really was