Wealday, Abadius 15

Olithar’s death still hangs over us. Over me.

I am not naive. This work that we do is dangerous and not without significant risk, and Olithar like the rest of us knew those risks and faced them willingly and without hesitation. In the past months we have seen many terrible sights, witnessed violence on a scale unheard of in modern times, and confronted an ugliness that would chill even the most hardened man. Though we never spoke of it directly, we were all aware of how close each of us has come, some of us over and over again, to giving our life for this cause, and that it was but a matter of time before misfortune caught up with us. And so it did.

Part of me understands Olithar’s wishes to not return, but part of me also wishes that it wasn’t so. Such is growing up, I suppose.

I am frustrated that Xanesha lives. We were close. We had her. But we lacked skill with ranged weapons, having relied too much on magic in the past to meet this need. As prepared as we were, the assault on the tower has revealed a critical gap in our capabilities, and it is one that must be filled.

One wonders how much higher a price we would have paid had we not taken the time to plan our rather unusual ascent up the clock tower. It is clear from Xanesha’s meager defenses that she had expected nothing more than a simple, direct assault from the interior stairs. By coming up the outside with magic to aid our ascent we were able to reach the scaffolding nearly unscathed, closing the distance so rapidly that they had no time to adjust to our tactics. The best they could muster were a few bricks that were left over from the feeble attempts to repair the structure, thrown at us as we climbed.

If our plan had a flaw, it was that it simply worked too well and allowed half of our party to reach the roof without adequate combat support. From what Rigel and Kane describe, however, that may not have mattered in the end, for Xanesha had a few tricks of her own and Olithar’s fate was sealed in the first few seconds of her appearance. The best we might have managed had we all been there would be to give her more targets to choose from, and that is a sobering thought.

Even unprepared and disadvantaged Xanesha proved a difficult and capable foe. Had we been forced to come up that scaffolding as she had intended we might be mourning more than just one of our friends. Our cleverness is cold comfort, however, as Olithar is dead while Xanesha lives. I am not one for revenge and settling scores, but…this situation does not sit well with me.

Joaqin says that feeling will pass. I hope so, because I cannot afford to have my judgement clouded.

The mayor has made us rich men (and women) and I have to admit that I am surprised, shocked even, at what he has done. Not just the money, or even giving us his word and then keeping it, but also the actions he has taken to protect his town, and the citizens whose names appeared on Xanesha’s list. This is not the Lord Mayor Blah Blah Horse’s Ass that I thought I knew, or maybe it’s that he’s far more complicated a man than I ever gave him credit for and that I only knew one facet of many. I don’t know. In the end, he is doing the right thing, and not just for himself.

I would never have guessed.

Wealday, Lamashan 9

I never understood why Joaqin spent so many of his nights writing in that book of his until now. If it’s not written down, it’s almost as if it didn’t happen, or as if it happened differently than it did. Memories are hazy and the farther back they are the worse the fog. I doubt that I will ever have the same discipline as Joaqin, and I clearly lack his gift for words, but I see the value in recording events, even if I am not very good at it.

I had what some might call an epiphany tonight: I understand why these goblins attack in what is effectively suicide waves. It is because each and every goblin truly believes that he will succeed where countless others failed and died. It is that simple. You can see it in their faces as they attack. It is as if they don’t understand their own mortality. You could send 100 goblins against an army of men and the last one standing would climb over the bodies of the first 99 to press the attack. The irony is that this works eventually…if you have enough goblins to spare.

Put any town under a loupe and you will find flaws. That may sound bitter and pessimistic but it is a lesson I learned early on at home, then later again, and once more here. It does not surprise me that there have been shady dealings between the elite of Sandpoint, though the consequences have been astonishing. I don’t know if their goal was to destroy this town or if these people simply didn’t understand how events can rapidly spiral out of control, but without our intervention I am sure that destruction would have been the result. It may still be for all we know. I have no doubt that we are only scratching the surface of something much larger. This much is so obvious even simplest of the townsfolk have the same suspicion.

The argument with Kyras was unpleasant though not surprising. We have not been together long enough to learn how to deal with differences in our ideologies (Joaqin would be impressed with my use of that word), and some of us are less flexible than others. I probably started the morning in the former camp but now I am not so sure where I sit.

Thanks to Olithar I can stop worrying about money at least for the near future. My extended stay here has slowly but steadily emptied my purse. I suspect we will be here a while longer.

Mother, Father,

News travels quickly, and I wanted to be sure you heard from me first so you wouldn’t worry.

My journey to Wolf’s Ear took me through Sandpoint, where I intended to stop only for a single night. As timing would have it this was a day or two before a church dedication ceremony, the details of which are a long story itself and that you will probably hear on your own, and I chose to stay the extra days for the company and the festivities. That turned out to be something of a mistake.

This town, it seems, has a long history skirmishing with goblins and there are many tribes located in the surrounding countryside. That anyone manages to travel safely along the Lost Coast Road given their numbers is probably because goblins seem to spend so much time fighting each other that there is little left to menace travelers. Every so often they manage to organize enough to harass Sandpoint, though, and there are a number of businesses and individuals here who have made light of the situation despite the threat. (I should point out that they do in fact take this matter very seriously, it is just how they have adapted to the reality of the situation).

The night of the church dedication, the night that you will no doubt soon hear about, was very different. I attended, in the company of some acquaintances- it is perhaps too early to call us friends- that I had met at the inn where I was staying, and it was fortunate that I chose to do so armed. While this decision did invite some expected attention from the town guard, it also came in handy when the town suddenly found itself literally infested with goblins. They came out of everywhere and nowhere, and the chaos that resulted was disorienting, but a few of us organized quickly enough to squash the threats immediately around us.

Let me say this: a single goblin is not a dangerous adversary to a trained soldier, but several dozen of them are a different story. They are small, they are fast, and they are dangerously stupid, pressing a fight past the point of hopelessness. It is this last one that was most distressing since they were almost eager to run to our blades long after they had been beaten, but in doing this they came close to overwhelming our defensive line. This would be a brilliant strategy if it didn’t cost so many of their own lives in the process.

I should also point out that, despite their feeble threat, I and the others fighting with me are still very inexperienced, and their numbers did take their toll on us. We were easy to wear down, but obviously we won or you would not be reading this letter now.

Unfortunately for Sandpoint, it was not just our place near the ceremony that was attacked, and we were not the only pocket of fighting. Fires burned throughout the city well into the night, as goblins had sprung out of every dark corner and simply run amok.

It is early morning now, and I am heading out to look for my horse who was spooked when goblins ransacked the stables next door. I never intended to keep this horse after arriving in Wolf’s Ear, but now I find myself very attached to him. That was my horse they threatened, and I want him back.

Nolin