Today has been another exciting day, though for far more dangerous reasons than the past two days.
We began our travels today by crossing a very large bridge. Luckily, this bridge while old, seemed to be built of rock far sturdier than any that I have ever seen back home though in retrospect, all rocks found in and brought to Nightvale are or become obsidian…dark like the night that things unknown call their home….primordial, formless,yet skittering horrors from which our pitiful flesh was born…..Ul’ulu if is’a la’g! gae’rgrog fsh!…. (unreadable chicken scratch)
Note to self: buy new ink bottle, wash writing utensils and dispose of dead animals.
As I was saying…we were crossing the bridge when suddenly we were ambushed by undead and wolves, an encounter that almost proved lethal to us. Luckily, none of us perished and we were able to incinerate or decapitate all of our foes in the end. Erena was dragged away during the fight by one of the wolves and it looked to be dragging her towards some figure i could barely make out through all the fog and trees. We must be careful, if the figure was Strahd we have little time before he decides to take matters into his own hands.
Research note: upon examining the charred corpses of the wolves and the wounds inflicted by them, I found why they proved to be so dangerous. The fangs on these (unintelligible angry Abyssal) secrete some kind of venom, making every bite have a lasting effect. As for the undead, as far as I could discern, aside from the wealth we found on them, they were no different from any other undead.
After our grueling fight we continued on our way to our destination, making a quick stop at a camp near a lake…A lake that I would like to point out, did not turn blood red or emit a mocking cackle at us upon approaching which is a rare, but pleasant change from the norm; after all of the fighting, I really don’t need the nightmares.
Upon approaching, we found the camp to be inhabited by Vistani, a group of merry folk (not to be confused with Merfolk and all the Harbingers of the Pelagic Times drama that surrounds them) that really enjoy drinking, singing and telling stories. I decided to remain with the cart and watch over Erena while I take down these notes.
I have just seen a blue humanoid fall from the sky and walk away… My scholar’s heart tells me I must investigate, and you know what they say: “Always follow your heart! It’s easy to track, because it crawls slowly and leaves a noticeable trail.” If I do not return alive, let it be known that my life’s work can be found at my home, in a wooden chest beneath my ceremonial dagger mantle.
We have a new traveling companion… a Genasi Dragon Monk by the name of Aloan Serell. He has a fascination with dragons, presumably because he wants to either kill one or become one. Perhaps I should inform him of the dangers of metamorphosis, I think I still have that pamphlet the priestesses were handing out before i started this whole adventure.
Research Note: Acquire hair, nail and skin samples for testing. Test for ratio of solid and gas make up, magical signatures and source of blue hue.
With introductions being made, the party continued the festivities.singing songs and telling stories. I tried singing “If you’re happy and you know it, you’re wanted for questioning” but nobody was sober enough to join in on the chorus.
Part way through the night, an old woman came out of one of the larger tents and used some kind of magic on Erena, supposedly releasing her from whatever affliction she had contracted from the river water she drank back in Borovia.
The old woman then asked us to join her in her tent… While I personally try not to make a habit of going into stranger’s tents, she seems trustworthy and our lively hosts vouch for her. Two possibly dangerous decisions in one day…. My new friends’ courage is rubbing off on me.
The old woman gave us some good advice and read our fortune using cards, and we have decided to take her advice and head out tomorrow first thing in the morning.
Before I lay down my head to sleep however, I feel an itching at the back of my skull, like a thousand small bugs chiseling a message into my brain… Ghaunadar calls.