Sitting by the fire at the end of a long, strange, unsettling, LONG day. At the break of dawn, I met my four companions: Edogai, a merchant type, likely hoping to meet his fortune within the forest, following in the footsteps of “mother” Mihira (local adventuring legend and tavern owner); Boga, a… goblin, of all creatures; naturally, I have no active dislike for goblins, any more than I have for monkeys, human beings, cows, sheep, or house cats, but the fact that I did not grow up around them sort of threw me off. I may have stared a while longer than what would have been polite; Leslie, the next in this veritable parade of unusual and exotic types — a genuine barbarian, and fully attired as one, including a small percussion instrument she seems to be very fond of. I did not quite get the name of her clan, though. I should endeavor to have more conversation with her, at any rate, for the sake of advancing my work; Lelya, a fellow student of the magic arts from Ordo Magica; as soon as I learned of her affiliation, I made a point to discreetly inquire about Vernam (more on that later). Establishing communication with her was difficult at first, on account of her being thoroughly engrossed with a wild panther kept as a pet by the group. Upon a cursory examination, I determined the specimen to be a female, at which Lelya hurried to name the creature “Maria Alice”. Truly, I could not have asked for a more eccentric grade of associates.
I also noticed that the panther was kept docile by the use of a strange variety of bioluminescent fungus kept within a tiny cage attached to her collar; I should really investigate the properties of this mushroom and add it to my alchemical notes. More bizarrely, the panther — in her induced “compliant” state — manifested an instinctive and powerful drive to head north. Whether this meant “north” as in either the cardinal direction or “someplace which happened to be situated to the north of where we were currently standing”, it remained to be seen. As it turned out, the group planned on relying entirely on the feline for navigation within Davokar, which made me question the wisdom of the whole enterprise. Still, I had gathered from my readings that the world outside the walls of Ordo Magica was a rather strange one, so I made no further inquiries and allowed the matter to rest.
Prior to departing, we were finally greeted by a woman named Lysindra, who — I assumed — was to play the role of guide, having been to the forest on several occasions. A more crestfallen woman I had not met before. She monologued on how strange things lurked among the trees, and how the trees themselves kept watch of travelers in the murky vastness of Davokar, etc. If her aim was to motivate us at the outset of our journey, she somehow achieved rather the opposite. Thus, we departed, not exactly in the highest of spirits.
The first few hours of our journey were fairly uneventful. The terrain was difficult, but we had a donkey to bear most of the burden. We pushed past the patch of devastated forest which separated Davokar proper from Thistle Hold. At this point, I heard Lysindra whisper something to Leslie about how the ones responsible for the deforestation would “pay for this someday”. Lelya drove the caravan, holding Maria Alice by a leash — with some effort. That’s when I offered to help with the poor intoxicated animal, finally creating the opportunity to inquire about Vernam. Apparently, my discretion had been unwarranted, as she proceeded to include everyone within earshot in a conversation on how Vernam had been found, flayed and murdered, under the most horrifying circumstances, and the local Ordo Magica authorities had successfully covered up the incident. Also, Vernam had been a double agent — operating on behalf of the Iron Pact and the city government at the same time. They went on, sharing some gossip about recent supernatural occurrences, but I was no longer listening. Vernam’s death spelled an extraordinarily bad start for my personal journey — and speaking of ill omens, don’t they say that goblins go into Davokar when they sense they’re at the end of their lives? Note to self: observe Boga for telltale signs of deteriorating health.
Good thing I am not easily discouraged. In truth, even the outskirts of the forest, where sunlight can still pierce the treetops, are breathtakingly beautiful. No accounts and drawings in a book — however artful and eloquently worded — could do justice to the real thing, nor capture the fullness of experiencing the sounds, colors, and scents of the forest. This is how I knew my joining the expedition had not been in vain.
Of course, things going well for too long would hardly have accorded with Lysindra’s predictions. We had been following a rudimentary, hand-drawn map which was supposed to show the way to a place called the “Halls of a Thousand Tears”, and — despite being assisted by our grimalkin navigator — we had to make several adjustments to the route, on account of the increasingly challenging topography. At some point, we spotted large patches of a white material hanging from tree trunks in the distance and, even as we paused, I sensed tension in my companions.
Lysindra casually remarked, “This is your first test”, and I was genuinely conflicted between the impulse to investigate this unusual finding and a desire to strangle her. The former overcame the latter, so Leslie and I advanced tentatively. Helped by the lore of her forest-dwelling tribe, she seemed to understand the nature of those things before the rest of us did — cocooned animals, wrapped in silk, preserved for later consumption by humanoid spider creatures or some-such beasts that inhabit the forest (or, apparently, the nightmares of her people). Upon such revelation, I found myself considerably less inclined to investigate the hanging objects. At the same time, the atmosphere around us changed: a chilling drizzle thickened the air, and what little sunlight reached us played shadow tricks through the swaying foliage, as though something lay in wait, wary of us interlopers.
It felt like we were intruding, so Leslie and I nodded at each other and took several cautious steps back — only to be overtaken by Lelya (panther in hand), Edogai and Boga marching confidently forward. I grabbed Lelya by the sleeve and went, “What are you doing?” Looking back, even Lysindra seemed nervous. Lelya argued that we had to press on somehow, and I tried to point out that we were likely being led by a deranged lady who seemed intent on driving us into early graves; however, at this point, a stirring of something wet, leathery, and large shook the air and filled it with a pungent stench. It was directly ahead of us too, on the ground: an erupting membrane of oozing blackness contained something that worked desperately to escape. And escape it DID!
What emerged was huge, dark, taller than any man and thrice as bulky. I instantly recognized it from the arcane textbooks, although (again) no written or painted description could accurately approximate the thing itself. How many wizards can claim to have witnessed the birth of a troll? Very few, I’d wager, and for good reason. I wish I could say my blood didn’t freeze in my veins, but the truth is I could do nothing but gaze, in awe and terror, as the newborn creature lumbered past us, stomping a path southward, empty in every way — for this is how trolls are born. I suppose I should be thankful that none of my companions dared attack the troll (though Lelya did let go of the panther, which darted away and disappeared into the woods). At any rate, we met the creature with no violence, and thus it visited no violence upon us in return. This, according to Lysindra, meant we had “passed the test”. I hate her. I’ve barely met this woman, and I loathe her with every fiber of my being.
After this, the oppressive weather subsided somewhat, and that ominous feeling of being “observed by the forest” (whatever that means) relented. Perhaps we were tested, or at the very least there is far more to Davokar than ancient trees and their resident woodland critters. Unable to keep travelling after this episode, we set up camp to rest and restore our morale. We shall proceed tomorrow, panther-less. That is, if Lysindra does not stab us to death in our sleep.