An alestained journal

[ADashofHope]

[This collection of parchment is cobbled together in an untidy book and kept on the person of Vaskr Farsong. Much of the writing already bears the work of another author...]

Yet we applaud your little trick,
Your artful ways and cunning wit
For in this world of shadows and deceit,
Your courage and resolve we gladly greet

normally not one for journaling, but I saw Skink and Grime scribbling in their own when they got a moment so I figure what's good for the goose is

good for me

and I saw some shit that's worth writing out slow-like and thinking on

I used to think the shadows were the Moon, but they don't talk like I'd think the Moon would

they talk like ME

or not like me but like your average fellow with hopes and dreams and limbs and life

like the one from the courthouse that talked about the coffee being worms and the sun being a lie and why it makes our skin itch under its lie-giving rays

or the one from the creep that talked about trust and murder and elves

they want to talk, they want to be HEARD but you would think that if it was HER she'd be more inclined to give advice or give or take or bless

I don't quite understand it and I don't know who to talk to about it

P? Might get it but what can they actually

the Dunce? Ehhh

maybe this just stays with me from now on a little secret that grows roots in the heart




not sure this helped but you know what might

moondust
scorch
beer
mizzar

let's try

Her voice was stolen, taken now
Her words no longer heard
For in the end, she stole our choice
With nary a single word

[ADashofHope]

Reports have come in of a new Minor Nuisance prowling the gutter. Nuisance is a halfling typically wearing dark clothes and a slime creature of unknown category. It has been harassing and attacking travelers in search of offerings for it's dark God and is of moderate danger. Investigate and approach with colleague

whodafuckingthunk

SMILEY

Smiley knew what I was talking about cept he calls the shadow-people the collective

"This life has been played out a thousand times before and a thousand times after we turn to dust."


not sure if I believe it

if I want to believe it

the way his hands paw at ya like he wants to make sure that you're real that you're there that you exist
(or that he exists? that he's on the right side of the veil?)
the way he copies folk the way they talk act move emote

it all makes sense

and this 'medicine' is something else entirely

not sure it's something that needs to be shared with the crew, because the withdrawal is a nasty thing

could get them killed, and i don't want that on me

even if they're not real, or any of this

that's just too much responsibility

it might help P

now i just need to find them again, snort some of this and see what comes of it
 

May the falling star keep your hope in the dark.

[ADashofHope]

He arrived in Ephia's Well as a refugee and had lived there for only 11 days before his exile. His death has either already occurred or will occur..

  "Yeah, Vask, Drago, Skink....all crew. Trust them all with my life."

 
I watched him then. Him, Skink...they had been all out of sorts when they burst into the Krak, enspelled to the balls and nerves shot. Skink was looking all around in that jittery, ground squirrel-y way like she figured something might pop out to eat her at any second. And Grime looked ready to punch that thing in the face if it did– he was holding himself with a lot of tension. Not quite a fighter's stance, but ready to slide into it if need be. He didn't look my way when he said it, but he didn't need to.

Because when you trust someone, you can turn your back on them without any fear of a knife ending up in it.

I thought of P, too. You and me. Our words. They trust me; enough to stay when others would've (and should've) run from a losing fight. Enough to bring me into a scheme when it could've snared me good instead.

I thought of the shadow in the bowels of the Creep. Telling me who I can and can't trust. They have me, but I have me, too...

That night, and that night, and those nights...the Moon shone a little brighter on me. I I heard Her voice in my heart– or maybe I only imagined I did. I am Hers, and She's jealous.

I can only rely on myself. That's what I believed then. Do I believe it now? Which one's truth, and which one's the lie?

How do I figu
 

Despite his past misdeeds, Shane was remembered by those who knew him as a fervent distributor of licenses, and as someone dedicated to a long and fruitful occupation in government.

Shane's passing serves as a reminder of the fragility of life and the importance of forgiveness and redemption. May he rest in peace.

[ADashofHope]

Got nimble fingers, a strong arm

Last night was about the worst trip I've had in a long time. I won't say lifetime– that long night in Qadira with the parrot, the hound and the Stonefolk singer still holds the crown– but it was up there.

Really trying to wrack my brains here

The first...was Her. I'm sure of that. Ever-changing, ever-shifting, ambiguous. Beautiful. And from Her eyes to her finger came the axe. Pillars of moonlight erupt from its touch, and no other weapon, axe or otherwise, has felt as right in my hand. That one stays with me; it's my secret and no one else's.

After that, things get fuzzier.

There was the courthouse– indistinct in form but indistinguishably human, from what they discussed. Coffee, courts and crime. If it wasn't for the fact that it was some kind of amorphous shadow, it would've fit in real well with the peanut gallery.

There was the Creep. Didn't have a shape either, and it had a real grim outlook on life. Killed the worms. Not a friend, exactly. Not friendly, but not hostile either. Just kind of there.

There was the Krak. That one was wearing

My hat? Or its own?

Not sure, but it gave it to me. Said it wasn't the Moon but something else. That would be a few weeks ago, now.

There was the one in Drago's room. Had a shape, but different from the others. That felt more like a

A vision, maybe? What do you call a vision that's a warning? An omen? A grim portent?

Scary stuff.

Two more last night makes seven. I may even be forgetting some.

Everything is tied together. Beware the blade. Beware the...Mist?

Moon, take some pity on this poor dreamer and give him a good run of luck, because he sure fucking needs it.

 

Seek The Jackal