Gospel According to Diego

> This gospel details the lives of St. Thorric’s disciples, showing that he can use even the most imperfect among us to confound the wise. This account also includes the hymn ‘The Song of Thorric’.
>
>

### Chapter 1

Day 1 map entries

⛵☠♖?✪ - The giant iguana scouted this out, seems to be a portion of the wreckage of our ship. Gecko Man brought back the employment writ for the East Anchor Trading company. I should really try to remember his name.

✊♞⚔ - North shore of our landing area has red angry crabs. Alasdair almost met his end here, good thing Sheik'Tah saved his ass.

♒☠♞ - Dragonflies hang around this pond. Giant dragonflies.

H♜ - We chose a spot on the north cliff to make our base camp. A much better spot than where those Red Sail monkeys decided to set up.

?✪ - Some odd grey rock formations that Thorric found on the northern cliffs. Crumbles under pressure.

♖ - Old camp location of those Red Sail monkeys.

### Chapter 2

\*Burble Burble\*

 Diego snatches the pot of boiling water off the campfire and throws a cloth pouch of freshly ground coffee beans in. After covering the pot with its lid, he stretches up from his crouch and looks towards the horizon. The sun is beginning to send rays over the edge, creating a stunning hue of oranges and purples. 'I should have enough time to appreciate this before the others wake up' he mutters quietly. Snatching up his pack and some of the newly brewed coffee into his waterskin, he scurries over to a nearby copse of trees.

 After sizing up the varying difficulties of climbing any of individual tree, he shoulders his gear and makes an arduous trek up the trunk of a particularly large one. Finding a large enough limb to relax on takes a few minutes as he tests the branches until he settles on a thick limb pointing to the north east. After securing his ink vial and waterskin of coffee into a hollow, he takes a moment to enjoy the scenery. 'Uncle Greatfather's journal drawings truly cannot compare to the real thing. Not to mention the boring countryside around Kingsport pales in comparison to this untamed wilderness', Diego's eyes noticeably lighting up when he thinks of new lands and expanses unexplored, and a wide grin overtakes his small face.

 He promptly takes out his quill and parchment and begins to practice drawing the topography of the surrounding area. After some time of intense scribbling, he reaches to take a swig of the coffee while he's absorbed in his work accidentally taking a sip of the ink vial causing him to sputter onto the parchment ruining one side. 'Note to self, do not put black liquids so close to each other' says in disappointment as he mourns the loss of a portion of the little parchment that wasn't destroyed in the shipwreck.

 Abandoning his map-making for the time-being he studies himself in the reflection of his cutlass, noting the beginnings of regrowth of his whiskers. Scratching the regrowth he thinks of the partners he has found himself forced to work with, he sighs. 'It'd be nice if there were a few more of us. Although on second thought even if we did we wouldn't be able to feed them, we are barely scraping by ourselves. Didn't think the dried snacks I bought back in the Kingsport market for day trips would have to sustain me.' as he takes stock of what little food he personally has left. 'At least these blokes seem capable enough, especially that lizardman, even if he lacks a bit of subtlety' thinking back on the second visit to the dragonfly pond by base camp. 'They all seem useful, in their own way. Although Alasdair seems a bit odd, something about him is off putting despite his affable exterior' he concludes as he takes a sip of his drink.

The edge of the sun finally peaks its glaring head over the horizon, signalling to Diego to wake up the others. He hops down and walks over to the pot. 'Seems I steeped it a bit too much today' he sniffs. 'I'll add some honey to take the bitter edge off'. After he finishes portioning the coffee into cups and adding a dab of honey, he smacks the metal ladle on the empty pot. 'Wake up ya blessed layabouts! We've got a long day ahead of us.' he shouts just loud enough to startle awake the group. Diego pushes a cup into the hands of the glaring lizardman; obviously not pleased with Diego's method of waking him. Diego then stamps out the fire and cleans up his mess kit. 'Call me when you're ready to head off' he off handedly says to the group before heading back to his tree to practice his calligraphy for a few minutes.

### Chapter 3

Life was looking up for a brief time. Very brief. Just as I was overjoyed to finally find food in this horrible land, the one I thought I could trust most, a member of the most familiar race of my companions, assaulted me in the night. Dreaming peacefully of delicious rice and far away lands, I awoke to a ravenous Alisdair tearing at my breeches. I screamed for him to stop, but to no avail. I delivered my foot into his face and as he lay sprawled giggling in the grass I woke up the others. Putting Sheffu between me and that rapist, I told the others the nightware I woke up to, although I kept to myself the brief double take I made as I first thought Dane had followed us and attacked me in the night. I can't forgive him for touching my furred exterior, and posterior.

 The others now look at Alisdair in wary disturbed curiosity. I only look at him with ridiculing hate. He broke the pact of companionship I created back in Kingsport, and so at the next available opportunity, I sneakily searched through his gear at night and burned the whisker I gave to him back then, forever nulling our friendship.

 When we arrived back at camp Alisdair had the gall to approach me to talk to me alone, doing so in full view of the others. The scheming bastard knew I couldn't refuse, as it would raise doubts in the Red Monkeys hearts that we are a united cohesive team. Not only that, the damn topic he wanted to breach in private was painfully racist. He wanted me to tail Clayde at night. I refused saying that he was basing his assumptions on hillbilly racism, but of course he would not listen. Suffice to say I slept soundly that night completely ignoring any prompts he would make to convince me to leave. I did tell Sheffu and Sheik'Tah about Clayde, and it appears Sheik'Tah deduced from her nighttime observations that he's some sort of shapechanger. That investigation is ongoing.

 I will give Alisdair some time to redeem himself to me, as I believe he's still too important to let my murderous feelings towards him build. But, if time passes and he disgraces himself and us, he may wake up in the night with his polearm shoved up his backside, literally.

### Chapter 4

This entry will be brief, as I have little motivation to write.

 Clayde is missing and Dane was injured. We were attacked by cats similar to the ones described by the Red Sail monkeys at their old camp. I sit in Dane's hut, watching Sheik'Tah do her best to tend to Dane and the stranger we found wounded in the attack.

  I'm worried, not just for myself. Although I lived through the throng, this was the first time I experienced violence first hand in such a visceral way. I look at the bandages covering Dane's neck and feel nothing but anxiety that, if we were a few minutes late, Dane and maybe the others would be dead. I first landed on this island with hope and a sense of adventure. Reality is much crueller than I could have possibly imagined. I know not who to trust, except for perhaps Dane, a kid who really didn't deserve any of this.

 I read through Dane's journal. I found it while picking up some soiled bandages that had fallen on the floor; it had been carefully tucked into a niche under his bed. I can't help but feel pity for the kid, he blames himself for wrongs the world thrust upon him. The Red Sail management did unspeakable things to him. His life before that wasn't kind either...

 I'll get this kid out of here to somewhere he doesn't have this shit to deal with, and Gods be damned if others try to stop us.

### Chapter 5

I took a month off to spend some time with Dane, poor kid. The time spent in camp has been oddly pleasant, he reminds me of my younger cousins and siblings, so much so I've taken to calling him my little bro. And, although the Red Sail Monkeys aren't always amiable, I view them with fondness, being in camp brings back memories of home; before this trip I never travelled terribly far from home.

 But, I still find Westin and Hadley particularly annoying. Their extreme opposite attitudes compared to each other piss me off; Hadley with her uncultured tactless habits and Westin's habit of acting like he's some sort of superior creature, more like a cretin. If not for the fact they both seem competent at times I'd be more pushy, like push off a nearby cliff pushy...

 In between the times I help around camp, I've started to write down some of the alchemical knowledge and medicinal skills Dane has picked up in a rough book I've bound with some of the remaining paper I have in my possession. I plan on adding better quality stationary when we finally get our first shipment into the docks. Perhaps I'll rebind the entire book and add more of the inscriptions I haven't dabbled in for awhile, the Matriarch always did say my drawings had a certain "magical" sense to them. I'd like to present it to him for his birthday, or maybe New Year's. It'll have plenty of extra blank pages for him to continue where I left off.

 I'm going to send a letter to the Matriarch when I can; I plan on asking for her blessing in seeking to have Dane become a sworn-brother. Also, I can't wait until I can send the drawings of the countryside back to Uncle Greatfather. He'll love to have some new material to use in his lessons in the family library. I'd like to think some of my drawings could be used as inspiration for the next generation in the family so we don't repeat the
incident of the Screeching Throng again.

 I left camp after the month was up to go back to helping the others explore and gather resources. Thorric has taken it upon himself to train me in combat, for which I'm thankful. Yet, I feel like I'm reaching a crossroads. I have yet to decide what Dao I will pursue in this life. In the meantime, I'll occupy my time with the footwork drills and feints Thorric said of which I could excel; probably because I'll never be one to go toe to toe with a trained fighter.

### Chapter 6

Diego sits upon the cliff looking out over the crashing waves of the sea to the east. Hammers and shouts ring out behind him; Wyatt and Gage have started building the linchpin of every harbour, the lighthouse. The fur on the right side of his mouth is stained black, an inky quill bobbing up and down from the corner of his mouth as he pauses in writing. He holds the last piece of fine stationary he purchased back in Kingsport, albeit somewhat damp from the misting the thrashing waves below have thrown up into the air. He listens to the sound of the hammers and gains insight into the last lines of the poem he is composing and quickly pens down the last few lines. If one were to look closely, the poem reads:

> **Thorric’s Song**
>
>
>
>
> Khuzsh under the mountain has gone to his sleep
>
> Hereby so many take part to our grief
>
> Two of his comrades have gone there with him
>
> Khuzsh under the mountain goes to caverns deep
>
>
>
> Spiders to sanctuary came in the darkest night
>
> Joy and flesh spider ate, oh my what a sight
>
> Heroic sacrifice left others in awe
>
> Not much was left of the friends of old
>
>
>
> Forces of evil came after cities of gold
>
> Battles were faught and then built was our home
>
> Hammers ring in this land like never before
>
>
>
>
> Our promise is kept like it was told
>
>

  A few of Diego's tears spatter onto the paper he holds, his tears of grief signing the tribute to his friend now lost. He hears Dane's excited yelling as the kid runs along the cliffs to tell Diego something. Quickly yet carefully he folds the paper and puts it into his pack. The young rat wipes away his tears and scrunches up his face into a smile as best he can. When Dane arrives, Diego pats him on the head and ruffles his hair. He then turns to walk back to the office, Dane chattering away gregariously as he does. There's work left to be done.

### Chapter 7

A ship bearing the flags of East Anchor is bearing down upon our port. Today is the last day of our exile from the world. I feel the need to hold a meeting with my companions.

 We need to discuss our intentions and future plans as once that ship lands, much will be beyond our immediate control. I want to offer our companions the chance to leave, as I feel some of them are uneasy with our vague partnership with the Orcish raiders. I do not wish to be betrayed later because we didn't give them an option to leave. The biggest issue though, is whether or not we keep sovereignty over this port of ours. I do not wish to see the efforts of Dear Thorric, eccentric Belban, and many others given so freely to those who have little to offer. As far as I'm concerned, everyone currently here is a partner in this venture, and I'm thinking of proposing a level of seniority to the Red Sail monkeys for their hard work. If the expedition group is to be the Hallmasters, let the Red Sails and orcs among us be Elders of our future City-State. Among my future plans includes a mausoleum to Thorric as well as a temple to offer our respects to Thorric and his adopted Loa, Cancer.

 I will call two meetings very soon. One for the expedition group to discuss plans, and number two as a large forum held between all us survivors. This I want done before that ship lands.