D&D Campaign Session for September 15th, 2001

Played with 3rd Edition Rules

Player Characters:

Kespin, Human Male Bard, 3rd Level ? (Josh N.)
Kobort, Half-Orc Male Cleric of Heironeous, 4th Level ? (Bart)
Mike Steel, Human Male Fighter, 5th Level (Patty)
Westwind, Halfling Male Fighter, 3rd Level ? (Andrew)
Wrye Leagallow, Halfling Male Ranger, 1st Level (Chris)

From Seblingham to the Menowood

Flocktime 28th 574 CY

We have taken leave of our companions and continued on to Seblingham with Ramne and the villagers we freed from the Naga's lair. The journey was thankfully uneventful and the villagers were both helpful and uncomplaining through the whole of the miserable trek through the dank swamp and in the tense shade of the living Menowood. Finally we came to more familiar country and we breasted the green hills of Seblingham in the warm midday sun.

Atop the last hill we discovered a grisly makeshift gallows in the yard of a burnt-out barn. Six bodies dangled from the creaking limbs of an old tree, the stench of char and decay on the wind. Three were troglodytes and two were men. Perhaps I am uncharitable, but I was not altogether sorry to recognize the bloated faces of Innkeeper Thaddeus and his cook; but the last body was nothing I have ever seen before or wish to see again, though I expect I may before the snake cults die a final death.

At first glance, he was a man. His eyes were the first mark of his reptilian heritage, staring round and sickly yellow. The tongue lolling out of his gaping mouth was forked as a snake's and his teeth were wickedly pointed. His skin even in pallid death had a sheen to it and vestigial scales started at the nape of his neck. We have been told that a ranger helped to hunt him down as he travelled perhaps a day ahead of us out of the swamp. He may have escaped from the Naga's lair, and if so I hope he is the only one.

Ramne left us as we descended into town and were met by Sgt. Vorl and his men, complaining that the villagers were harvesting from the wrong parts of the forest. Kespin strode out ahead and struck up a tune to greet the rest of the villagers as the soldiers escorted us in what soon became a triumphant parade of victory. The town was completely changed in every character from the smallest to the largest of ways. Every person was out and working with determination and energy and one by one they came to join us. By the time we reached the center of town we were a throng, with Kespin at our head and children swarming around us to welcome us, the conquerers of their captor. I lost track of Westwind briefly as he darted forward among all of them, but as soon as we could see that food and drink were being set out at the center of town the halfling took off through the crowd and pushed determinedly past all the folk coming toward us. I think he ended up first in line at the picnic, which is only to be expected.

I never envisioned such a reception even in my wildest dreams, and certainly not from the Seblingham we left a few days ago. Seeing the town as it is now, exuberant but drained and exhausted from simply surviving the events of the last year, I cannot but think that almost all the people in this town had already been brought to the Naga's worship. If we had waited until that roomful of hatchling troglodytes had indeed become her army, Seblingham would have ceased to exist as a town. As the celebration began and the entire town came together to feast and to dance, I shuddered to consider what might have become of them. Kespin began an animated retelling of the story of our battle to an enthusiastic audience of townsfolk, but I listened with only half an ear as I ate and marvelled at the change in the character of these people.

My musings were interrupted as I overheard a conversation to my left. Sgt. Vorl was speaking with a halfling, a sturdy traveller by the look of him. What caught my ear was a name: Nikka Greenfeather. I tried to recall where I'd heard it before when Vorl pointed the halfling to Kobort and myself and introduced him to us as Wrye Leagallow.

"They'd be the ones to ask. Wasn't she with your party?" I remembered then the tale of a halfling girl who had been killed here in Seblingham by several assassins just a day or so before I first arrived to join them. There was silence for a long moment, and I watched the hope in the small man's eyes flicker uncertainly between us.

But Kobort had an odd look on his face.

"You seek the Greenfeather?"

The halfling startled, taken aback.

"Well, yes. Nikka Greenfeather. About so high," he described, "brown hair. You know her?"

The cleric was solemn, his orcish tusks incongruous as he stood straight and nodded.

"Come. I'll take you to her."

I can't say I knew what he was getting at, but I figured he'd break the news to the poor fellow at her grave. I followed, as curious at Kobort's manner as I was sorry for the traveller.

What followed was a surreal revelation. I have almost come to expect this from Kobort since his visions began, but Wrye was hardly prepared to be the preordained fourth to complete our unlikely expedition. To his credit, he took it well.

"So she's dead, then." Wrye stood at Nikka's grave. "But why is the seal of St. Cuthbert here?" The halfling's headstone had been engraved with the god's symbol after her conversion -- Curate Bradas had told me the whole story of the miraculous robe and of Nikka's newborn interest in religion. I related it to Wrye. He disapproved, but then he is a staunch follower of Yondalla. He would have me believe that everyone worth his salt worships Yondalla.

After we finished explaining our quest to him (and I confirmed to him that Kobort was not insane), we left Wrye to perform whatever halfling rite he wished for Nikka.

At least, I hope Kobort is not insane, for if he is, so am I.

"This halfling is the one?" I asked Kobort in wonder. I glanced upward reflexively, but didn't spot any gods frowning at me from the clouds.

"Heironeous told me the one who seeks the green feather would join us," he confirmed. Wrye Leagallow fits that description as well as any, and I have been learning that coincidences such as these are not coincidences at all.

By the time we returned to the town square everyone had started dancing. Westwind had found himself a pretty little halfling girl and was looking happier than I've ever seen him; he'd even gotten himself a dinner invitation with the Sprites, the only halfling household in town. Kespin was working his way through the women, and even Kobort had himself a girlfriend by the end of the afternoon.

I had a chance to speak to the mayor and his bodyguard about the events in town. According to his account, it sounds like as soon as the Naga died, the villagers came back to their senses. Only the smith has not been himself, but has gone mad. His sons keep him locked up now, and have him under watch. Kobort has suggested that he may be able to help. Since it was the smith's daughter he had on his arm, I think his motivations may be more personal now.

This town is wholly different than we have ever known it. I restate myself, but it is only because I am stunned at the magnitude of the change. The temple of Heironeous is to be completely rebuilt, and the mayor has pledged his own private funds toward it. Zacharias is still unsure what will be done to the temple of Berei -- whether it will be reclaimed or razed. Over the coming weeks and months there will be time to decide, but the tunnels should be collapsed.

When evening came, we dispersed. Kespin escorted a girl home and hasn't come out again, Westwind is staying with the Sprite family, and Kobort is staying in the ruins of the Temple. Wrye and I have been given leave to stay in the now abandoned Inn. I have checked the passageways and they have not been travelled. With the Naga and her army dead, I hardly expect attack but in this Inn, I am not taking chances.

Wealsun 1st, 574 CY

Today is the first day of the Festival of the Blinding Light. Although there are not many Pholtites in Seblingham there are preparations being made. Large logs of firewood have been piled up and even now, late into the night, the bonfires are blazing.

Early this morning Westwind went with Kobort to visit with Kull Smith. They hoped that one of the scrolls we found on our expedition would be able to cure his madness, and it was. Now, Kobort has even gotten the smith's permission to court the his daughter. Who would have thought it?

I won lunch from Wrye at a small contest of archery this morning, and I was able to give him a few pointers. I was more surprised to have the benefit of Travor's experience both with the bow and with the sword. His skill is notable and he has agreed to teach me and spar with me as long as we are here.

When we came back into town to help with the rebuilding, I heard that Kespin had been hiring carpenters to work on the Eddings house. I guess he had a good night with Jenna Eddings indeed.

Westwind has taken on a mission to find a young halfling, the brother of the girl he is staying with. He went with Wrye out into the woods in hopes of tracking him, but the trail is over a month old and they have not found anything aside from Ramne's wolves.

Wrye will be returning to his village soon. He has promised to return and join us, but he needs to return word of Nikka Greenfeather to his lady, who is some kind of cousin of hers. To judge by the description of their relation, I gather that halfling families can be very large and complicated.

I have been invited to stay with the the Cobler family, or what is left of it. Their daughter and her husband disappeared toward the beginning of things a year ago, so they now care for two young grandsons and an infant granddaughter, Hiram and Joseph and Sarah. Their house was in the direct line of the attack on Walpurgis night, and I have been able to help with the repairs that they are too old or too young to handle.

I do not know how long we will be in town, but Kobort has been very busy planning the repairs for the temple of Heironeous and estimates that it will take at least a month.

Wealsun 4th, 574 CY

We have all been very busy pitching in with the fixing and in patrolling the surroundings. The soldiers will be returning soon to the Keep so it will be left to us to keep an eye out for as long as we are here.

The ranger, Alan Claiborne, has remained in Seblingham for these few days. He is built like an elf and spends most of his time in the woods, but when he came in we had a chance to talk to him about the snake-man in more detail this morning; what we learned was disturbing. Not only was the creature ahead of us coming out of the swamp, he wore a symbol of Syril and was carrying money and a map showing the way from the Keep to Pawford. Together with the letters we found in the Naga's lair, there is good reason to suspect corruption in Pawford.

Alan will be going to the very area of the Menowood which glowed to Kobort on the map. He was very secretive about it, but plans to return in three or four days and will guide us then.

There has still been no news of the halfling boy.

Wealsun 7th, 574 CY

Kespin has been holding out on us. Several days ago the town was visited by a bard from Onwall, and according to the Miller (who has become the town's new bartender) our own bard spent some time and quite a bit of money on her. He claims that she drank poor Kespin under the table while getting him to pay for all of it. I don't doubt it, judging by the way he has fallen for Jenna. A dwarf only takes leave of his senses after he's drunk, not before -- not so for Bards, by my guess.

He did manage to tell us (between jokes at his expense) that he had news from her of pirates raiding the villages on the coast of Idee and Onwall, and he does have snatches of new songs -- though it seems he doesn't quite remember all the verses. I am concerned about the pirate activity, for it may have something to do with the slave trade that the Naga may have dealt in.

I do wonder what sort of report she will give of us to the Keep. Perhaps our comrades are still there, and will get a laugh out of it.

Wealsun 8th, 574 CY

Four officials from the church of Heironeous rode into town today. Knight Tharum and Wardens Syrian and Vorjen were assigned from Pitchfield after the first set of attacks which killed the halfling Nikka Greenfeather and her friends. They have been on the road since and were unaware of more recent events here, so they were very surprised to find the temple in ruins. They were also very impressed with Kobort and all that he has organized here. We have been working to train a militia and he has hired several townsfolk to assist with the temple; they have promoted him to Warden, and second in command here in Seblingham to Tharum. Kobort is very pleased, and I am told that Warden is a very good rank in his church.

I have arranged for a letter to be delivered to the Keep whenever the next runner goes with the reports of the soldiers, arranging for Curate Bradas to have access to that money which I had kept with the merchant at the Keep. It will go to the temple there and will hopefully pay for them to keep Reddof in state until he can be raised in Pitchfield. I have had no word from our party since they have been at the Keep, so I can only assume that they are well and continuing with the plans to escort his body to Pitchfield.

Wealsun 11th, 574 CY

Westwind has remained with the Sprite family and they seem to have taken a liking to him. Unfortunately, he has not yet come up with anything to lead to Gwynn's brother although he has been searching tirelessly. I helped to search the tunnels in the Inn but there were no fresh trails that we could find.

With the lack of progress, Kobort cast an augury to see if Heironeous might have something to point us in the right direction; but the response was mixed and we have little hope of finding the boy alive.

Wealsun 13th, 574 CY

Alan Claiborne has not yet returned, and is now several days overdue. Although we still have much to do in Seblingham and cannot yet think of going to the Menowood, we are all concerned that he has met with some misfortune on his way.

Kespin and Westwind went into the forest to seek out Ramne. They were greeted by Ramne the Wizard rather than Ramne the Druid, and in fact they could not speak with the Druid. According to the Wizard, his Druid soul is dying. I did not know that it could work that way.

The Wizard gave them some advice about the Menowood: we must have someone who knows the way of the woods, and we must have someone who speaks Elvish. Fortunately enough, we will have both when Wrye Leagallow returns since he is a ranger and our bard is schooled in Elvish. Personally, I never expected to need the language.

He also suggested that the deeper in we go, the less likely we are to come out again. That we will simply have to chance.

Ramne has been reading the Naga's letters. He has confirmed that some of the villagers may have been sold into slavery, but he could not say where or to whom except that there was mention of a new organization called the Scarlet Brotherhood which is located somewhere off the Azure Sea. There is very little information about it at all, and it sounds like the kind of group that would not like having questions asked. I wonder if they are connected with the pirate raids, but we cannot know with the scant information we have.

While the Druid could not speak with them personally, he did pass on some advice: "Yes," he said, "There is some darkness in the Menowood."

That was all. I do not know if we will hear from the old druid again.

Wealsun 15th, 574 CY

Throughout the time we have spent here in Seblingham I have spent time each morning sparring with Travor Stoutheart, Zacharias' bodyguard and adventuring companion. He is a good swordsman and archer and an excellent teacher, and I have learned much from him even in this short time. I doubt I am challenging him yet, but I continue to try.

These last three days in the new, makeshift tavern, Travor has been telling me stories of his adventuring party. He is well-travelled and has seen much, and his knowledge may give us some good, solid mundane guidance.

Together with Zacharias and the two elves who were killed on Walpurgis night they explored the Hestmark Highlands. Dullstrand, he tells me, has very good adventuring and will be worth a trip when we have a chance.

Then there are two hills, Bald Hill and Bone Hill, South of New Keep. There is perpetual trouble with gnolls there and a set of some interesting ruins. It will be on our way back from the Menowood, if we are not in too much of a hurry. His party never had the chance to explore these hills; they were on their way there when they stopped in Seblingham and simply stayed put.

In the Hollow Highlands Travor saw a stone marker on the spot where the Great Kingdom General Azharadian battled against a Flan army. According to Ramne's tales of the ancient history of these lands, there may be many other such markers from ages past, scattered across Sunndi and the Great Kingdom.

At last he brought out an old scroll, on which was inscribed the story of the Ghost Tower of Inverness. A great and powerful magic is held there, half in the world and half in shadow; and by the description, it is one of the places which glowed to Kobort on the map.

"Know you that in the elder days before the invoked devastation and the rain of colorless fire when the ancient peaks of the Abbor-alz still thrust skyward, sharp and majestic, and the Flan tribesmen were but newcomers to the land, there existed between the bright desert and the mouth of the River Selentan a great fortress called Inverness. The walls of this castle were said to be proof against enemies and all things magical or natural. Know you also that here was said to dwell the great wizard Galap-dreidel at the height of his power and glory, and that he did lift the castle Inverness from the very foundation of rock upon which it rested."

"Most grand and terrible of all Galap-dreidel's work was the keep's great inner tower; for it was there that the wizard's most prized possession, an eldritch jewel known only as the Soul Gem, was said to rest. Legend says that it was like a great white diamond and that it glowed with the brilliance of the sun. In years long past it had fallen from the sky and landed in the foothills of Abbor-alz where Galap-dreidel discovered it as it lay in the fires of its glory. Through magicks most arcane and knowledge forbidden to mortal men he did bend its power and shape the stone to his will. Stories say that the light of the gem dragged the souls of men screaming from their mortal flesh and trapped them within its many facets. Galap-dreidel it was said harnessed this power and used it against those who opposed his will. They also say that he who controlled the gem could call forth the stolen souls of men and make them do his bidding."

"For the stone, Galap-dreidel raised up the great central tower and filled his castle with many horrible creatures and deadly traps and, using a great incantation, he did wrest the tower from the very fabric of time and set it apart so that those within would not be affected by the passage of years. Thus it was that his traps never faltered, nor did his guardians age or need food. Townsfolk whispered that Galap-dreidel would at times set a prisoner free in the tower merely for the sport of his beasts. Some legends tell that his power was so great that he even taught the gem to protect itself from those who would take it from him."

"But despite his great power there came a time that Galap-dreidel did leave on a journey northwest over the river Selentan, and did not return. At this time there came a great multitude of superstitious peoples from surrounding lands who laid seige to the castle and threw down the great tower. And it came to pass that despite this seeming victory over their feared former master that people did shun the area. And it was said that on fog-shrouded nights the great central tower of the Fortress Inverness could still be seen."

Wealsun 21st, 574 CY

Repairs to town are almost finished, and the temple is coming along steadily. Kobort and I have been training his new acolytes in defense and the townsfolk appreciate the regular services of Heironeous' priests. They plow and furrow and sow for the summer's growth just as they did before, buth there is a determination among them now that their town and their families shall not have to suffer evil's influence again. Heironeous is a fitting patron for them, and will hopefully watch over them and protect them now that they have become his faithful.

The ranger has still not returned from the Menowood, and in fact there has been no traffic from there since a week before Walpurgis. Since there is usually steady travel from Aniel on the border of the Menowood, several folk are starting to think it strange.

We continue our plans to go into the Menowood. In another week's time the temple should be nearly finished and we can depart. In truth, I find I grow restless in this quiet town, but I remind myself that it has too recently been too full of horror and evil to be considered truly safe. I pray for the future of these folk.

Wealsun 27th, 574 CY

Word has come from the church of Heironeous in Pawford along with money and statues for the raising of the temple here: Kobort has been officially promoted to Knight and has been named Second Head Cleric of Seblingham In Absentia. He has received a declaration of merit and has been ordered to seek out and destroy Syrul in Sunndi. As we were planning to do that anyway, it will be good to have the formal backing of a powerful church.

We are finalizing preparations to leave. Kobort has arranged that we may leave anything we do not wish to carry into the Menowood with the temple for safekeeping, and we have each donated some of our found gold back to Seblingham in one way or another. Much has gone to the new temple, and Kespin has singlehandedly made the local carpenters into rich men with the repairs to the Eddings house.

Kespin has also taken an interest in Cirilli, the girl we found locked in the snake-priest's sanctum here in Berei's temple. Her family has disappeared or been killed, so he has arranged for her to stay with Jenna Eddings. They all seem pleased with the idea so far.

Hiram, the Coblers' oldest grandson, has been turning up at the temple lately. I have been teaching him the basics of combat now and then, and the other day he declared that he wants to join the temple guard. He is only ten, but if he continues to practice he may be welcome there in a few more years. His little brother Joseph copies everything he does, so the pair of them are right now fencing with blunt sticks and pretending to fight snakes.

Heironeous' temple is complete enough that Kobort is no longer needed to oversee it, and services are finally being held regularly in the newly-built nave. Nothing now prevents our departure, so tomorrow we leave at first light for Aniel in the Menowood.

Richfest 1, 574 CY

Our trip to the edge of the Menowood was uneventful. We passed none coming from the wood, and we are the only travellers who seek to enter its borders. We are now several hours in and have left the road to camp for the night.

I am again filled with a sense of awe at the magnificence of this huge, ancient place. It reminds me in some ways of the cavernous halls of the Glorioles, but there is an eerie strangeness to this foreign and chaotic landscape. There is a constant but hushed, whispered motion in the branches above and the loam at our feet, and our crunching footsteps seem both muffled and echoing. The very air which seems so still here is a contrast of fresh purity and the lingering odours of earthy decay.

Wrye seems to know the way through the huge trees, leading us confidently. At the edge of the forest it was a well-travelled road, but now I understand Ramne's caution: if we did not have a companion comfortable in the ways of forested places, we would already be lost in the endless columns of treetrunks and the unchanging shade.

This afternoon we encountered the first denizens of the Menowood. We were surprised by a pair of spiderlike creatures scurrying in the trees above us. The way the branches intertwine, they are able to traverse the upper levels as easily and as quickly as a man may run on the ground. Wrye was the first to spot them and loosed an arrow, and the spiders cast forth web-woven nets down to ensnare us.

It is not the first time I have been grateful for my good bow since the day we wrested it from the paws of a gnoll hunter a few short weeks ago. More and more I find that in the outdoors it is essential to have a weapon of long range; in caverns and tunnels a javelin serves well, but it cannot keep a chittering tree-dweller at bay the way a longbow can.

While Kobort charged forward and dodged the webs they threw down, the rest of us fired up into them. They tried to stay up and out of the way, but our arrows found them even in the thick branches.

One of them snared the halfling ranger, and that gave Kobort and Westwind a chance to get at it as it came to get its meal. It soon learned that it was safer in the trees; but the trees offered no safety to its companion. One fell to our arrows, and the luckier one fled out of sight up into the shadows of the foliage.

Wrye is a very vocal captive. The battle was very quick, but he did not spare us his complaints at having been left tangled in the spiderwebs.

We cut him out anyway.

Thinking it safer to move on, we continued from the spot, alert for any movement in the trees above us. It seemed to me that we could easily be going in circles amid these endless rows of gigantic trees, but Wrye declares that he knows the way and so we follow.

It grows quickly dark in the deep forest, for I imagine that we are deep within the Menowood by the feel of the place. Our evening conversation is held in cautious, almost reverent whispering with the fading of light; the air has taken on the chill that comes with spring nightfall and it is too dim to write. We camp, and light no fire.

Richfest 2, 574 CY

We were awakened by Kobort deep into the night. It was pitch black -- every bit as dark as the lightless underground caverns of my youth. The air was cool and moist and quiet, the rich scent of last year's leaves thick on the ground. I was disoriented for a moment until I located him by his whispered words.

"Something is not right."

I didn't need light to find my sword, nor Kespin beside me. A few feet from me Wrye and Westwind also rose and we gathered ourselves and listened for a hint of danger; Kobort could pierce the darkness with his orcish vision but saw only trees. He relied instead on his instinct and on Heironeous' guidance.

"It is all around us."

"We should move." One of the halflings put in a suggestion from somewhere behind me.

"Look up." I peered upward into the dark, but the night revealed nothing. "Kobort, what do you see?"

"Nothing," he answered after a heartbeat. Then Kespin spoke in simple, singsong rhyme.

"In the night, we need light."

With that, the tree burst into white illumination above us, the leaves glowing bright as a torch. I shielded my eyes from the sudden glare, and I was not the only one to do so: a lone spider creature froze, stock still in the middle of a large, elaborate web it had been spinning above us. Then it fled, skittering into deeper shadows.

"Where'd it go?" "Too late, it's gone." "Let's move." "Right." We moved out from under the nearly-completed web.

Kespin provided us with light enough for a torch, as we decided that fire in an ancient, living wood would be more risk than we strangers were willing to take in this strange land. We moved again, travelling through the night. We camped again as the dawn light began to filter through the thick forest canopy overhead.

The sounds of foraging reached us when it was still early in the morning. The trees blocked sight, but whatever it was approached. Then the first of them came into view.

They were massive animals, seven of them, boars of the height and girth of large oxen. Their cloven hooves were the size of platters and the wicked tusks they grew were as long as a man's arm. Beasts such as they roam this forest as casually as a dwarf roams a mine. I began to wonder if there were other animals of their proportion, imagining rodents the size of Westwind.

Kobort was up a tree almost before I could turn to suggest we hide, so I followed my own advice and slipped behind one of the behemoth trunks, hopefully out of their direct path.

The boars would have passed us by if they hadn't smelled something on the halfling fighter. I suspect he still carried one of those pastries he gained a taste for back in Seblingham, just to remember little Gwynn Sprite by. Whatever it was, one of the beasts found him and had a nibble on him. I heard him yell, but I could not see him from where I was.

"There's a hole!" From a branch high up, Wrye yelled to Westwind and shot an arrow into the boar's side; I do not think it felt the blow more than Wrye would feel a fly. "There's a hole at your feet! Westwind!" From the ranger's cheer, I figured that Westwind had managed to squeeze himself into the hole in question, and again I wondered about oversized rodents -- I put it out of my mind, since the boar now seemed to think that our halfling might be his truffle. His huge tusks came into play, digging at the hole and tossing gouts of earth aside.

"Hey, you stinking pig!" His arrows useless against a beast of its size and lack of intelligence, Wrye resorted to insults. "Shoo!" He waved his arms and banged his weapons loudly. More of the herd were between us now, and I took advantage of Wrye's distraction to climb up my tree. My efforts gained me a curious boar, and I shinnied up that tree faster than I've climbed anything in my life as the boar roared below me.

Wrye kept up a steady stream of insults, and the boars were gradually taking notice. I added in my own, yelling whatever I could think of down from my perch. I would have felt sillier if it had not worked so well.

"Goblin breath! Leave him alone!" "Beardless gluttons, your fathers stink of troll-wine!" "Take your pea-brains and scram!" Together, Wrye and I kept up a din the likes of which those boars had never heard. Stubborn they were, but not as stubborn as we. Eventually they gave up. The one that had gone for Westwind was shaking a bloodied snout and decided that Westwind was too sharp for a truffle.

Westwind was muddied and bloodied but had been eaten by neither boar nor rodent. We climbed down our trees and Kespin appeared from somewhere. To judge by the damage that boar did to Westwind with just a nibble, we are all lucky to have chased them off when we did. Wrye is very pleased with himself for it, but I think he is only trying to distract us from the now undeniable fact that he, along with the rest of us, is lost.

We are resting long enough to tend to Westwind's injuries and for Wrye to get his bearings, and then we will move again. We are all tired, but have no opportunity here to let ourselves be weary.

Here endeth the session, as excerpted and translated from the journal of Mike.