19 Elient, 1360 DR
Oh yes, where were we? Forgive me dear beloved scroll and my future readers herein. I have been unable to journal as faithfully as I may have wished, but I have kept a series of notes for when I may fill my scrolls at my leisure. And I have such a moment now, comfortably ensconced on Nick the Gift-Giver’s asteroid, warm, dry and well-fed after many adventures.
When last I wrote, Ibid and Xrng had joined our company and we were stuck in a cavern with space zombies. We came together in battle very efficiently I must say (it was our first time fighting together with Xrng and Ibid), and Casimir and Ibid extended the blessings of death to the trapped souls. We then entered Sigil via a magic door located on the asteroid, finding ourselves in the Hives, a truly cursed area of Sigil full of demons and filth. We quickly got off the street and entered the Body Celestial Tavern. Ai yi yi. That was a boozy evening full of drunken confessionals.
Over plates of Bytopian Cheese and OTP, Lemmy revealed some of his secrets. A former officer of the law, he got mixed up in the Guardian Wars and joined the Sons of Mercy, one of sixteen contending factions.
Lemmy secured us a portal key for 600 Gold with the promised destination of Rock of Bral, but our way was via the Gate of Celestian. Ibid looked distinctly uncomfortable on hearing this and I remembered the tensions between followers of Celestian and Ptah. We entered the temple and well, a longer walk this humble student can’t honestly remember. The moment we entered, all the Celestian priests fell silent and began to line up along our passage. As we passed, my sensitive ears twisted back to catch the occasional smothered snicker. A general Celestian consensus had been reached apparently—“Let’s all take a moment, point and laugh derisively.” I noticed my compatriots straightening their backs and smoothing their clothing and hair discreetly while Violetta began to whistle a lively, brave air. I quietly fell back, matching my loping stride to Ibid’s shorter stride and haughtily stared down the undignified Celestians. Our arrival at the other side of the gate was just as derisive unfortunately.
We signed on with an Elven trader called the Swift Star with Sarin, the ship’s Quartermaster. After signing on and stowing our stuff aboard the ship, we decided to spend our last evening among the scrolls of the Seeker’s Library researching various subjects. I found no further information in the crypto-zoology department regarding the Araneans and nothing on Haven-Fahr. I can only wish for the best for the sadly oppressed Araneans. Lemmy began asking about a prophecy, his guiding prophecy as it turns out—to seek a three-year-0ld "wise beyond her years. . . " in the Tears of the Goddess, who’s to play a great role in future events (among the Guardian Wars perhaps?)
We retired to a nearby tavern. Violetta looked most uncomfortable and finally admitted that Lemmy’s prophecy gave her a start. She confided she woke up about three years ago with no memory of her previous life and two mysterious rings on her fingers. She thrust her hands into the candlelight and I say a metal band of Baatorin green steel on her left hand and a blue metal band of celestial (as in heavenly, not those Celestian priest fellows) origin on her right. Taken into Lucille’s by one the girls, Violetta was trained in the Bardic arts, she has since felt a compulsion to hide behind her mask. Quiet for a moment, she reluctantly admitted to feeling comfortable among the Hives of Sigil and fears that she might be a good person either trapped in a very bad body or escaping an ugly past. We decide to return to the Seeker’s Library to perhaps help Violetta and found some tantalizing mentions of The Blood War and the lower plains of the Abyss. Neither bode well, but Xrng and I put as positive as possible a spin on things to cheer Violetta.
We returned to the Swift Star. I was assigned to work in the rigging and occasional piloting duties by Sarin. I found working in the rigging to be very stimulating to both mind and body. After a couple of days, I was swinging through the rigging as if I’d been born to it rather than to the mighty Taanmrow! I quite amused my fellows one day hanging upside down from the lines by one foot as I casually knotted up the rigging, singing a dirty Shou ditty all the while.
Our trip was largely uneventful. A couple days out of Unipaxilla, we crossed the Crystal Spheres while enjoying an excellent glass of a thin, yellow Elven wine to celebrate any “Newbie” crossing. Like the city of Sigil, the Crystal Spheres are beyond the Gods’ reach. It was unspeakably beautiful.
Our peaceful trade journey came to an abrupt end when we encountered a wall of turbulence. Everyone was flung about and there were many minor injuries. After being thrown off course, Ibid spotted a large ship still on course and began to follow, hoping to catch up. As we drew nearer and the ship began to slowly fill the windows of the bridge, I felt my hackles begin to rise. I barely managed to strangle back my fearful yowl, though I failed utterly in getting my fully ruffled coat to settle back neatly. I shut my eyes but could not shut out the knowledge.
It cannot be. It simply cannot be and that such a lowly person as I, a mere novice student scarce out of the monastery, would witness such an event.
“The” Spelljammer, the original ship and cloaked from the Gods’ sight, grew ever larger in my mind’s eye. It was last spotted about 4,000 years ago during the Fall of Netherill, a time of blood shed and scrolls destroyed.
I must write the Seekers immediately as well as my Wu Jen, Master Kitaro Fujiama