First Sun of the Fourth Umbral Moon,
We are well situated now, I believe. Having fetched Seitsuda from Dragonhead not two nights past, our complement here in Ishgard now numbers a mere four individuals. Five, if we can rely upon Althea Mourelz. No one in their right mind would count the child, and so I exclude her, though I feel a mention necessary for the record.
I have gotten ahead of myself. One should always start at the beginning unless one is spinning tales of fancy. To be honest, at times our lives are so hectic that they may as well have been penned by a mad goddess. In short: Nymeia, you heartless bitch. From the beginning, then. Althyk would deem that wise.
We set out from Thanalan a fortnight ago. As this record attests, we were offered lodgings in Camp Dragonhead. There we abided, awkward though our situation was. We had come north in search of friends and in search of challenge, to seek allies and to hone our skills. To earn coin and to recruit those of like minds. To grow, both on individual scales and as a company. Apparently, I failed to make clear the extent of our purpose here to our gracious hosts, and so we found ourselves sequestered, humbled by generosity and yet rankling with resentment at having been barred from our destination.
Several suns ago, we took matters into our own hands. With the exception of Master Gladepetal, with whom we came to a consensus to leave behind, we set out for the Gates of Judgment. That damnable blizzard had not yet let up, and so it was slow going, though the distance was not nearly as great as those we had already traversed and we had the advantage of familiarity with the terrain, given our recent contributions to the defense of Whitebrim. Anyroad, we saw ourselves to the Gates soon enough, and a few quick words with the knights on duty made the matter clear. Though passage is permitted to those capable of lending aid to Ishgard, either in her defense or in her succor, the city is filled to the brim, nearly to capacity. The stores may not hold out, and the Temple Knights are having a logistical nightmare in keeping things organized. For this reason, apparently, are those such as ourselves not offered lodgings within the city itself. There are simply none to spare, and what there is to be had can only be had at great expense.
I came north prepared for such expenses.
We are quartered at the Cloud Nine inn as I write; it is a small, humble affair within the Forgotten Knight. The rooms here are not as luxurious as those of the Hourglass, nor as comfortable as those of the Mizzenmast, yet they will serve. Pretty coin for not so pretty accommodations is a minor matter until such time as my purse lightens.
We were pleasantly surprised to encounter Althea on our first night here. Though we were disheartened to learn that she has had neither word nor news of our friends, her account of the local attitude towards Seitsuda's people raises hopes that a demon will not readily be mistaken for a dragon, and that even if such confusion comes to pass, it might readily be resolved so long as he takes care to walk with friendly company about him at all times.
Miss Mourelz herself is somewhat of a mystery. We first met her during the hunt for Hound; since then, she has proven a willing friend and ally, though the extent of her skills and prowess are not truly known to us. Her garb of several nights past made me wonder whether she'd laid her staff aside for more martial pursuits.
As mentioned at the outset of this entry, we have recently fetched Seitsuda from the camp. He and Painted Moon should prove sufficient to look after the others while I am gone. Painted Moon in particular has shown a soft spot for our little girl; having witnessed that, my apprehension has eased somewhat where the ruffian is concerned, though the thought of our coming trials has me feeling somewhat nauseous.
Kanaria intends to seek out the dragoons in order to build upon the scant training she once had under the tutelage of an old friend. I have found mercenary work for the company to pursue in the meantime, a job that might earn us some coin and recognition. Truth be told, to catch the attention of one of the Great Houses would be ideal. As for myself... there was an altercation some suns past, down in the Brume. I find myself caught between a rock and a hard place, forced to comply and tasked to aid an old acquaintance in his efforts to stomp out a mutual threat before it festers and poisons us all. I shall be gone for a few suns, twice every fortnight until such time as I am released from obligation and the threats to myself and mine have passed.
Here, now, at my desk, writing by candlelight, I find that my shivers have little to do with the cold that is associated with these frigid lands.
Chief Flame Sergeant
Osric Melkire
of the Dauntless
We are well situated now, I believe. Having fetched Seitsuda from Dragonhead not two nights past, our complement here in Ishgard now numbers a mere four individuals. Five, if we can rely upon Althea Mourelz. No one in their right mind would count the child, and so I exclude her, though I feel a mention necessary for the record.
I have gotten ahead of myself. One should always start at the beginning unless one is spinning tales of fancy. To be honest, at times our lives are so hectic that they may as well have been penned by a mad goddess. In short: Nymeia, you heartless bitch. From the beginning, then. Althyk would deem that wise.
We set out from Thanalan a fortnight ago. As this record attests, we were offered lodgings in Camp Dragonhead. There we abided, awkward though our situation was. We had come north in search of friends and in search of challenge, to seek allies and to hone our skills. To earn coin and to recruit those of like minds. To grow, both on individual scales and as a company. Apparently, I failed to make clear the extent of our purpose here to our gracious hosts, and so we found ourselves sequestered, humbled by generosity and yet rankling with resentment at having been barred from our destination.
Several suns ago, we took matters into our own hands. With the exception of Master Gladepetal, with whom we came to a consensus to leave behind, we set out for the Gates of Judgment. That damnable blizzard had not yet let up, and so it was slow going, though the distance was not nearly as great as those we had already traversed and we had the advantage of familiarity with the terrain, given our recent contributions to the defense of Whitebrim. Anyroad, we saw ourselves to the Gates soon enough, and a few quick words with the knights on duty made the matter clear. Though passage is permitted to those capable of lending aid to Ishgard, either in her defense or in her succor, the city is filled to the brim, nearly to capacity. The stores may not hold out, and the Temple Knights are having a logistical nightmare in keeping things organized. For this reason, apparently, are those such as ourselves not offered lodgings within the city itself. There are simply none to spare, and what there is to be had can only be had at great expense.
I came north prepared for such expenses.
We are quartered at the Cloud Nine inn as I write; it is a small, humble affair within the Forgotten Knight. The rooms here are not as luxurious as those of the Hourglass, nor as comfortable as those of the Mizzenmast, yet they will serve. Pretty coin for not so pretty accommodations is a minor matter until such time as my purse lightens.
We were pleasantly surprised to encounter Althea on our first night here. Though we were disheartened to learn that she has had neither word nor news of our friends, her account of the local attitude towards Seitsuda's people raises hopes that a demon will not readily be mistaken for a dragon, and that even if such confusion comes to pass, it might readily be resolved so long as he takes care to walk with friendly company about him at all times.
Miss Mourelz herself is somewhat of a mystery. We first met her during the hunt for Hound; since then, she has proven a willing friend and ally, though the extent of her skills and prowess are not truly known to us. Her garb of several nights past made me wonder whether she'd laid her staff aside for more martial pursuits.
As mentioned at the outset of this entry, we have recently fetched Seitsuda from the camp. He and Painted Moon should prove sufficient to look after the others while I am gone. Painted Moon in particular has shown a soft spot for our little girl; having witnessed that, my apprehension has eased somewhat where the ruffian is concerned, though the thought of our coming trials has me feeling somewhat nauseous.
Kanaria intends to seek out the dragoons in order to build upon the scant training she once had under the tutelage of an old friend. I have found mercenary work for the company to pursue in the meantime, a job that might earn us some coin and recognition. Truth be told, to catch the attention of one of the Great Houses would be ideal. As for myself... there was an altercation some suns past, down in the Brume. I find myself caught between a rock and a hard place, forced to comply and tasked to aid an old acquaintance in his efforts to stomp out a mutual threat before it festers and poisons us all. I shall be gone for a few suns, twice every fortnight until such time as I am released from obligation and the threats to myself and mine have passed.
Here, now, at my desk, writing by candlelight, I find that my shivers have little to do with the cold that is associated with these frigid lands.
Chief Flame Sergeant
Osric Melkire
of the Dauntless
![[Image: 1qVSsTp.png]](http://i.imgur.com/1qVSsTp.png)
