The Journal of Heelie Faes

All six of us were present for this one. The Aasimar paladin and the Orc ranger caught up with us on the road.

We came across a black cabin by chance, perched on the edge of a snowy ridge above a gorge, half-collapsed and long abandoned. The cabin was small. With six of us, I volunteered to keep watch outside while the others went in. Before entering, the Tortle wizard established a telepathic link between the two of us.

Through the link, I followed what they found.

The main room smelled of burnt wood and flesh. A charred skeleton lay on the floor amid broken wine bottles, a frost-covered object nearby. The skeleton had an amulet around its neck, a golden pendant bearing the symbol of two hands cupping the sun. The craftsmanship suggested something sacred.

The party split to search the rest of the cabin. The Aasimar paladin found a room of frost-covered wine barrels. Corren found a laboratory with blueprints tacked to the walls, designs for a weather-controlling magical device that bore a striking resemblance to the frost-covered object in the main room. The fighter and the ranger found a letter in one of the bedrooms, written by someone called Copper to someone called Macreadus. The letter mentioned, among other things, that three rings are better than two.

While the others investigated, the Tortle wizard picked up the frost-covered object. There was not much else for him to do.

A golden light bloomed from inside the cabin. I felt it even from outside.

I immediately entered the cabin to understand the situation.

The main room was scorched. What remained of the Tortle wizard was on the floor, mixed, regrettably, with squirrel droppings that the fighter and ranger had swept up along with his ashes in their attempt to help.

Through the link, he told me what he had found on the other side. A floating spectral head, fire in its eyes, arrogant and snappy, blaming the cold for his own miscalculation. Macreadus, in death as in life. The spirit knew what needed to be done to fix his creation and was not shy about sharing it. The device’s rings could not contain the energy it produced. A third ring was needed, cast from metal, inscribed with runes, fitted using the tools already in the workshop. He was also not pleased about his ashes being mixed with contaminants.

The party worked to fix the Summer Star. It was handy that everything we needed was already in the cabin, the blueprints, the tools. It took us a few hours but the ring was done and attached. Knowing it was divine energy, I attuned to the device in case of any further mishap.

I considered, briefly, keeping it. The ability to control weather is not a small thing. The Tortle wizard’s spirit conveyed Macreadus’s position on this matter with some urgency. Macreadus, it seemed, would haunt me without rest if I kept it for myself. I found that sufficiently persuasive.

I activated the Summer Star.

The clouds broke and the light fell on my face and it was warm. Genuinely warm, for the first time since I arrived in this world.

It reminded me of Balder. The god of light who sacrificed himself to become the twin suns of Arborea. I have only ever read about him. But standing there in that light, I understood, for the first time, what his faithful must have felt. I had taken the warmth of the sun for granted all my life.

With the warmth came something else. A blanket of divinity settling over me. It seemed Lathander, the Morninglord, had granted us his blessing. The Tortle wizard was restored to life in the same moment, full and whole.

Macreadus’s spirit departed shortly after.

She sent her undead servants to attack us, likely as revenge for introducing the sun to this place. The party handled it, more or less. I will not comment on the Aasimar paladin's decision to deal with one of them alone in the wine room. They had apparently helped themselves to the frost-covered barrels before the undead arrived.

We retrieved the amulet from the skeleton and returned to the road. Corren identified it on the way. An Amulet of Health, granting the wearer a remarkably robust constitution.

As we travelled, the Tortle wizard grew quiet. His psi crystal had picked up something. A distress signal. It was faint, but it was enough to spur the party into action.

The signal grew stronger as we travelled. At some point, the Tortle wizard mentioned that he could make out the word “nautiloid” among the distress signal. I know a nautiloid as a mid-grade fish from the waters of Exodor. I will admit that the thought that followed was likely foolish. Exodor is a floating island that moves around, sometimes disappearing entirely from Arborea. There is a slight chance it is in this world, and if so, that might be my ticket home.

I noticed a look of worry from Corren and the Orc ranger when they heard the word. Whatever a nautiloid meant to them, it was not a fish.

A vast shape half buried in the snow, curved and ridged like an enormous shell. It was apparently some form of vessel. I asked the Tortle wizard if it belonged to his people, but he was rather sure it did not. Everything is alien to me in this world, but this seemed alien to my party members as well.

I noticed the Aasimar paladin still had their wine. I purified it quietly. Alcohol is technically a poison, and whatever was ahead of us, I had no desire to walk into it with a drunk paladin. They noticed. They did not say anything.

We climbed onto the deck. There was a ballista mounted there, which we considered briefly, thinking it might serve to guard the door or mount on the caravan, before discovering it was broken. The door into the ship was frozen shut. Corren melted the ice and the Dragonborn fighter burst through. Comically, there was a flesh golem on the other side who was knocked down in the process, apparently in the middle of opening it from within.

We readied for combat. But it turned out to be unnecessary, a crew member was already waiting for us, and the general atmosphere was non-hostile.

They spoke to us telepathically, introducing themselves as ceremorphs, gnomes that had been transformed into something resembling the mind flayers that crewed such vessels. Their propulsion system was damaged and they needed a psi crystal to restore it, the same one the Tortle wizard happened to be using.

They proposed a trade.

In exchange for the psi crystal, they gave us two items I had not seen before. A sticky metal monocle with a kaleidoscopic lens, which I am told grants the wearer unnaturally sharp close vision, and a coif fashioned from what appears to be a living space slug, said to allow the wearer to send and receive thoughts. They also provided three of their weapons, devices that fire concentrated light, one each for Corren, the Tortle wizard, and the Orc ranger. The ceremorphs showed them how these worked as though the answer were obvious. Corren understood at once. The Orc ranger needed one attempt. The Tortle wizard needed three.

I asked if I might take one of the squidlings with me, thinking of it rather like a pet. After a brief hesitation, the ceremorphs agreed, and Zglarrd came with us.

Before we left, the ceremorphs asked if we had come across a metallic egg. They explained it was lost cargo that had been jettisoned from the vessel during the crash. As luck would have it, it was the exact same one we had found at Karkolohk. The shield guardian retrieved it from the caravan and we returned it. I was curious what was inside, and they informed me it contains a creature of sorts. It seems to me that these people are scientists.

Zglarrd is a curious creature.

It levitates rather than walks, its tentacles dragging along the surface beneath it. The head is oversized, the eyes large and dark, the limbs weak and spindly. It does technically still have hands and legs, though the tentacles seem to serve most of the same purposes. It makes squelching and keening noises when excited or upset, and communicates in short bursts of emotion and simple words conveyed telepathically. Not unlike a kitten, curious and unpredictable, driven almost entirely by instinct. For now, pointing and miming seems to work well enough. I point at something and say eat, and Zglarrd tends to understand.

The hunger is a separate matter. It seems to be the primary driving force of Zglarrd’s existence. I understand this. Every creature requires sustenance. It simply so happens that Zglarrd’s sustenance is brains. I will need to think carefully about how to manage that. A leash may be a practical necessity in the short term.

I believe there is potential in this creature. Just like how leeches were once used in medicine, this creature of unusual nature could potentially bloom if pressed into careful and considered use.

I am still working out what that looks like.

The nautiloid vessel ascended and left. I watched it go, this vessel that sails between worlds, crewed by transformed gnomes and carrying creatures from places I have no name for. Judging from the fact I have never seen this vessel or these creatures before in Arborea, I highly doubt they would be able to send me home.