We continued to explore the caverns beneath the ruined temple. This time, I was chosen for the duty of looking after Old Jarl, and for a time, Born Under Red Sky. He is dead now. His passing, along with the injuries and exotic diseases to which the others fell victim renewed the sense of urgency among the survivors that escape from this island is a top priority. I myself have enjoyed my time here on Demos, and will attempt to recall this place as a destination for the time in my life when I am too old and feeble to survive in the more dangerous parts of the world.
Before resuming our mission, the injured required some time to heal. To pass the time while we were waiting, I recounted a story from my time with Ashanto and Blinet, which I will enter here in writing:
In Ryagnar, where many of my early escapades took place, there was a local landowner by the name of Gearhy. Gearhy had an unusual strategy for the protection of his livestock which sought to take advantage of his holding's natural geographic features, namely a ring of scrub land that surrounded a more fertile central territory where his cattle and sheep would graze. Gearhy built two fences on his property - an outer fence around his entire territory, and an inner fence surrounding the homestead and the grazing land. In between, in the swampy, marshy portion, he had a collection of beasts and oddities that he permitted to roam free. These beasts were selected based on the unlikelihood that they would attack his cattle, and they would keep out coyotes and the like.
His pride and joy was a Shambling Mound, and he and his unusual serf had developed a unique fondness for one another, so much so that when Gearhy learned that Blinet had a gift for song writing, he commissioned the bard to write an ode for his precious sentient plant mass. The advance alone paid our bills for a fortnight, and so Ashanto and I did not argue with our party member taking a less-than-heroic job.
The ditty Blinet came up with was catchy, and the lyrics were self-aware. I rather liked it, and still find myself singing it under my breath from time to time:
This is the theme for Gearhy's mound,
the theme for Gearhy's mound,
Gearhy sought me out one day and asked me to write this theme song,
I got paid in advance,
I already spent the money,
This is the theme for Gearhy's Shambling Mound!
Telling the story to the others seemed to do the trick, as they seemed more motivated than ever to get up and move around.
And so we continued exploring, and looking for a way out. We doubled back to a place with very large mushrooms where the group had been before when I was absent, but found no recourse, only a very large spider which we were quick to avoid.
The next stop was to revisit a rat hideout, our reasoning being that at least we could kill one for food, which at the time was in short supply. However, we found no rats living where there once had been, and the group made the decision to continue moving down the tunnel system, which gave way to a lava tube - Demos being recently volcanic. The lava tube took us to a fork, where on one side we could hear voices, but on another side, we could smell the salt air of the sea. We elected to head down the tunnel toward the water first, coming upon a cove where a very nice, new ship was docked. However, just when we were toasting our good fortune, another ship began it's approach. This one looked very dangerous, and we chose to retreat back into the lava tube and approach the voices. We came upon a formidable pair, but they did not see us - they were waiting in front of a large, locked metal door, and based on their conversation, they appeared to be waiting for the boat we had just seen arrive!
We continued to hide, and soon approached a small band of something I have heard legend of, but had never seen in person - tainted ones! Oh, but they were foul! Their state of undeath-death offended everything about my upbringing, but for terror and survival instinct I could not bring myself to confront them and rid this world of their presence.
Their leader, a gnome-like creature called Blackbriar, accepted payment of a chest in exchange for opening this door for the two men, but he did not seem friendly to them. The men, who espoused philosophies not unlike those found in what was left behind by the previous cultist corpses we encountered, seemed an anathema to Blackbriar, though oddly, I could have sworn he was aware of our presence, and as Ostar later pointed out to me, his unusual tone of conversation suggested that he was revealing information for our benefit. I will try to repeat the conversation as best I can - I recall it fairly well, thought it is not set to catchy music like the Theme for Gearhy's Shambling Mound:
Blackbriar: How have Yallathune's plans progressed?
Cultist: You would be wise to join him, Blackbriar! He has assembled powerful forces, including the Cult of Set and the Cult of the Serpent.
Blackbriar: I have no interest in Yallathune, or remaining here, for that matter.
At this point, Blackbriar vanished, and his retinue left to their ship. The door was opened, and the cultists summoned a terrible creature with a horrific voice, and dare I recall tentacles on it's face? It wore a hood, but I was almost certain that I saw that. Once the coast was clear, we beat a hasty retreat out to the cove and made off with the small ship, which we now believe belonged to the cultist. It was thievery, pure and simple, but if these men had an evil agenda, perhaps it is just as well that we inconvenienced them.
With Jarl at the helm, we set out, and were delighted to find ample food stores - salted meat, rice, and rum-soaked oranges! We ate our fill. An attempt was made to return for Jerek, but we could not find him on the beach, or the dinghy itself.
On Jarl's recommendation, and with our hearty agreement, our group set out for Limbo's Birth, a town in Sebastian's Cove where piracy and smuggling rule supreme. Our intent is to sell the boat and book passage on a ship that will at last take us to Lemia, or somewhere at least on the way, as has been our intended journey all along. My future writings in this volume shall not be marked as "Forbidden Isles," much to the mutual relief of all.
Entry concluded.
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