Herblore, et Al (Raistas's memoires)

Day 1 in this Godforsaken land,

I've had a chance to establish some sort of forward base in this shitho place. I've yet to find any signs of civilization, though there is plenty of flora and fauna about. The land is incredibly fertile fairly far below the surface. The various levels appear to include about three or four feet of soil with hard limestone beneath. Judging by the upheaval of rock was passed next to the sea, that layer is fairly deep.

(note: There is a strong likelihood of caves, which can mean anything from bats, to bears, to dragons.)

If I am stuck here until I can build a ship, I should have plenty of room to cultivate some edible foods. I still have some some apple and cherry seeds. It will take years for them to grow, but they should create a proper anchor on this world. If nothing else, it will be a great place to return to, for hunting.

Thus will I begin my study of the plants.

The first plant on my list is a small leafed bush that grows abundantly. It reminds me a lot of heather, and the small buds branching from its stalks agrees with this guess. I'm tempted to use them in the brewing of my first beer. It would also be beneficial to follow some of the bees to find their honey.

I have started my study by rubbing the leaf on position 1A, and the flower on position 1B. If I have no reaction to this, I will use the lip test tomorrow.

Well, that's all for one night. Cheers. It's water and fish for me night one.

Still no sign of life. Though I can definitely feel a spark in the wind. This feels like Varasha all over again. Hope it doesn’t end like it.

Up on the north ridge I did see one of the largest deer I have, ever. I would be remiss not to point out that at this time the hunter in me almost drove me to stalk it. I imagine I could have made an entire outfit of its hide. It would have fed me for a month, at the very least. I could have made a dozen tools with its horns. But perhaps another day.

Truth be told, this island is rather nice. Mountains to one side—forest, and fresh water rivers—and a beautiful ocean. Beaches with pleasant sand. I get the feeling this is no mere island. I can scarcely conceive the size of it. But it does appear to be surrounded by considerable ocean on all sides.

Regarding the heather look-a-like I found, it appears to work similarly. The tea was a bit bitter, but after no reaction, I find no issue with it. I won’t be using it to cure any urinary tract infections any time soon, but at least it is good for something.

I’ve found several species of pine—the same tree that is present in very nearly every world. I’ve found two kinds of cedar. The fire, the light with which I’m writing this, was started through the cedar bark. It has a pleasant aroma, and appears to be keeping the insects away well enough.

The sunset was bloody spectacular. Say what you want about the sun setting over the ocean, but I’ll take it settling behind the mountains any night. The way the sun silhouettes the peaks, like the lower maw of a dragon, made all the more sinister by the steadily darkening sky. Orange to red. Red to crimson—and then to violet. Stunning.

Time to enjoy some of this cedar and pine tea I made. If I asphyxiate, it was fun while it lasted. If it’s Gurumond that finds this, you were right.

Things are coming along nicely. After a squall blew down my shelter for the fourth time a few nights back I decided to create a more sturdy shelter. I’ve spent the last few days cutting down and stripping trees and digging holes. I’ve also brought down from some flat rocks from an old rain gully. The roof is thatched with some palm fronds that I’ve tied together. It’s nicely hidden, if I do say so myself. Blends in with the rest of the detritus around the area. This place would be a nice little den, except that I will have to move inland before much longer. “Adventure awaits!” as Contagior so commonly said.

It’s not just for adventure that I want to leave—these lands have no true bedrock. If I’m to be able to craft any tools, I’ll have to go further inland. That being said, I have built a bow and some few arrows. With them I have killed two deer. One’s skin has been made into a kind of back pack. The meat has been dried and should last me a good week. With the other, I have set a few traps. The skin should be ready to work tomorrow. It’ll be nice to have two shoes again.

I’ve found three more plants that can be used for tea—see sketches below. After drinking one I had to pee about five minutes later. So we now know at least one diuretic. The tall, serrated grass had a nice citrusy flavor. I went ahead and gathered it in abundance to see what uses it had. I tossed some into my fire, and my eyes immediately began to burn and tear up. I felt no lung irritation.

I have also decided to begin some more subtle magic manipulation. While the elementals are not that hard to grasp, the frequency is definitely more sharp than most of the places I have visited. It reminds me a lot of Torvessa. It exists, but I will have to refine my ability somewhat.

Necromancy also appears to work. After transcribing several protective barriers, I summoned Ukaat. Surprisingly, the imp was excited to see me. This place is attached to Hel through some measure. Oddly, that brings me great comfort, as I’m still unable to contact either my gods, any of the Vishnoru, or any other dieties who I have blood or soul pacts with. Will keep trying.

Day 7 in this Godforsaken Land

I am now approximately 15 miles inland. This is obviously no mere island. The hair on my neck has been standing since this morning. Something is about to change, and I’m not sure whether for better or worse. The tension is so sharp I feel I can beat it with a hammer.

The forest here is pretty well established. The trees are probably between 20 and 100 years old, with some being perhaps a bit older. There is a circulatory pattern of growth, with plenty of new, and enough fallen trees to make my trek a pain in the ass. From one tree that was struck by lightning probably within the last 6 months, I found a nice sturdy limb that has made a nice walking stick. I’ve used a blade I found in the shipwreck to sharpen one end to a point. I think any cavemen I come across will be mighty impressed.

There are plenty of signs of boar. If I come across one, I’ll be ready.

I have stumbled across six different fungi so far. I have collected a fair amount of each, and am working them into my routine. So far, only three plants I’ve found have been what I would call poisonous. One, the red flower with the dark green shiny leaves, brought a rash to my shoulder after rubbing the flower on my skin. The rash is wet, so I have been washing it frequently. It’s spreading incredibly fast, though.

The good news is that I’ve found a flower with blue clusters that grows on a medium size bush with ovulate leaves. It makes a bitter tea, though a decoction of the roots doesn’t taste too bad. The leaves, however, have provided an excellent compress. The spread of the rash has diminished significantly. Only the liquorish flavored grass has provided any comfort. So hey, progress.

As another testing point, I have called Ukaat back. I want to know how long he can stay, and whether or not he experiences any discomfort. It appears our dealings in the past have left quite the impression on my guest. It’s comes as no surprise to me, but, my dear Gurumond, that this point belongs to me. Every creature, be it demon, or monster, wishes for respect and understanding.

Be that as it may, it’s nice to have a companion.

Day 8 in this Godforsaken Land

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

As usual, I’m writing by firelight just prior to sleeping. But today was a surprise, to say the least. And now, at last, I have blood on my hands. Though by no evil of mine.

I have walked another thirty miles. And I once again reached ocean. This ocean lies to the north. There is a dark stain across the horizon that I suspect is another island. I call the other land the island, owing to the deep vibrations I can feel from this mass.

As I was looking upon the island, several dark spots appeared in the sky. Much to my fucking surprise, they turn into dragons. Of all the fucking creatures to stumble upon first on this island.

And there was no one or two. I saw at least three dozen flying, beating their wings with all the desperation they could muster. Two that landed surprised me—they were old, though none too large. And it appeared that the journey had taken a lot out of them. I hid as most flew over, and around. It was like some bird migration. There were dragons of all colors, metallic, chromatic, and even some of the less common ones. They all appeared charged with one desperate mission.

A third dragon—an elderly green—crashed into the trees near where I was hidden. When her body struck the ground, there was no orderliness about it. She was screeching wretchedly. I went over to look on her, and a branch had pierced her side, right below the wings. I did what any decent person would in the situation—I tried to heal healed her. She was barely conscious when I began to apply the poultice. I noticed that there was a growth of mucus around her eyes. I’ve been around many dragons, but the only time I’ve seen something resembling this was when an old friend had flown across an entire ocean. He was young and in his prime. What devil has spurned this green into such desperation? Her scales were coated in brine and powdered white. It was a sad site to see. I know not whether she will ever be able to fly again, but she should be able to coast, or walk. If I wasn't considerate of her words, I'd have seen the job to its end.

But she should live. I lingered until she woke, at which time she said something interesting to me.


I have lived amongst druids a very long time. But how would this dragon know? Too, I have not walked that path in many decades.

My home tonight is well hidden. I found a cave, and have covered the entrance so the flames are not visible. Tomorrow, I’m afraid, is going to be an interesting day.

Day 10 in this Godforsaken land.

I killed my first dragon of these lands today. My heart was broken in the process.

While traveling, I came upon a clearing where two green-hued dragons were fighting over a kill. I watched for a while, surprised at the absolute vitriol with which they attempted dominance. At the very end of the fight, the smallest dragon saw me, and started. The larger took advantage, and crushed it’s neck between its jaws. Then it, too, saw me.

It charged, and I defended myself. I have fought many dragons before—whether bestial or wise, and it is never an easy thing. This dragon, however, was so starkly blind with rage and what I assume is desperation that it did not even attempt to defend itself. My oaken staff still lies trapped within its rib cage. I will retrieve it tomorrow.

As it lay, convulsing in the throes of death, some of its saliva struck me across the chest and arms. It reacted as does acid, and I had to quickly wipe it off. As it stands, where struck, and on my right hand, blisters have formed.

Some of the most noble and kind beings I’ve met on my sojourn have been Dragons. Many, in spite not having seen them for years, I still regard as close friends. But these—these dragons were barbaric, even by monster standards. I can think of only one or two things that could drive these dragons—hunger, born from desperation, and displacement, born from strife.

It would explain why so many of these creatures have come at the same time. It explains why so many elder dragons have flown here, literally, to their deaths. And unless this ground is somehow holy, or powerfully magical, I can conceive no other reason.

I will not let my murder go unqualified, however. A dragon has many parts that can be used whether as magical or menial means. If nothing else, their hormones and glands will keep my smell from being too obvious. I can also learn a great deal about their anatomy and makeup.

Still, I can not forget the look of desperation in the eyes of the beast I slew. As he was fading, when pretenses were at last dropped, there was such hopelessness about the beast. That same look is shared in any sentient creature that feels remorse. I have seen the same in goblins and elves alike. Even in gods.

Tomorrow I will perform a ritual to rest their spirits. For tonight, their souls may hunt freely in this world towards which they so desperately strove.

The only good thing to come of today was that I found Them again. Thank the gods—wherever they are.

Day 11 in this God Forsaken Realm,

Today started on a sour note. I hate funerals.

The bodies of the two dead dragons were pretty maimed. Something had been gnawing upon them. Even so, I cut some meat and cooked it over a fire. As suspected, it was excessively bitter, and made me nauseous. Fucking acid dragons.

Still, there was some hide to use. As well as some bone and teeth to salvage. Their muscles were fairly dense, and I took some sinew, so I can build a new bow. It’s been a while since I’ve crafted one of good quality, but—a dragon-string bow? Rinelioralien would be jealous. As would all the Elven lords. I just hope I am able to draw it.

I’ve also cut some fabric and bones from their wings. If nothing else, they’ll make a fine cloak. I tire of being wet.

I have also collected some of the liquid from which the dragon made its acid. I plan to test it to see what medical properties it might have. I rubbed a small measure of my shoulder, and it began to eat away at the skin. It’s under control now, and healing, but itching.

I spent most of today taking supplies from both dragons. Though the deer they were fighting over was picked clean, most of the antlers and bones were left. I have plenty of ritual supplies, for the interim.

Now that I am further inland, there is plenty of forest—I am not so afraid of being seen. Now I just have to watch for clearings and shadows and caves, and tall trees, and dense brush. This is like a nightmare. Still, the forest is extremely old. It is a very familiar and comfortable feeling. I expect, soon, my Earthspeak will come of use.

Lastly, I have finally succeeded in Mind-lifting a rock. It was more like a pebble, scarcely the size of the nail on my pinkie finger, but it is progress. I have never had such difficulty trying to control the elements around me. This place nearly sizzles with magic, but it is just so excessively dense. It’s as though the very fabric of this world insists upon remaining as it is. I can do some things so exceedingly easy. But some of the more novitiate acts remain beyond my ability.

Good night. Here's to some good dreams, for once.

I have, finally, found a home.

I am at last healing from most of my wounds. My skin is still badly damaged, and it will take me several months to work it back into the elasticity it had. I suppose it is time now to explain my brief of a few days previous. I did not, at the time, possess the faculties to write any more—my fingertips, themselves, were blistered and torn. The wrist of my right hand was badly broken.

Now, enough with the excuses.

As stated previously, I have found a home. The island lies deep into the lake I fell into at my last flight. It possesses an ample amount of land for cultivating a meager garden, and its soil is rich enough to try and grow an apple tree from the seeds of my personal orchard. This would be a blessing, indeed.

I wish to state that I do not bear ill towards those dragons that hunted me. I understand where comes their malice, and am glad that my ability was such to make them not murderers in this, pure land. Eventually I will seek to find them, whence I will attempt to speak to them on terms of an equal.

Until then, I will work on my mystical and magical abilities that I need not flee so readily. I can manage healing, at least, thanks to observations made during my time within the healing circle. For two days I lay, my body ill-disposed, but my mind fervent in its quest for magick. Though I felt the warmth of infection begin to spread through my upper leg and in my arm amongst other places, I gradually managed the art.

I have been working ever since on refining my ability. The denseness of the world that I described previously adds weight to the elements, the molecules of which I am working with. I will not be growing an arm any time soon, but I have mended most of my severe wounds. Soon I will need nourishment. There are plenty of trees—from them I should be able to add onto this cave a home. I think I will start over. And I think I will make these grounds into a healing center.

I will not give up on that dream so quickly.

From where I am, now, I can see the mountains in the distance. I have rarely seen so ominous a barrier. I wonder what adventures lay beyond. For now I will rest, and then I will look to reclaim my tools.

R.