(The following is transcribed from the Elvish dialect of the High Forest)
This entry will be short. I must recount the events which happened since our return to this city and the current mind state of mine.
I remember the strange hammer as it fell upon the marble of the podium in the great and rich halls of the Waterdeep Council Hall. I only focused on it. The sound was a crisp clack upon an otherwise smooth sheen of dull white. Humans find the strangest uses for cottonwood. There was murmuring from all around me as the chambers emptied. Only the Fist stood there in that hollow hall; I could feel them there, like me, turning and turning, watching all of the visitors there leave, one by one.
“Well? Yes?” A scrawny man in local robes peeked over the council and the throne of the highest seat thereupon. The light blue and purples of his robe wrinkled with an indication of the perfunctory habit of its donning. His small nose scrunched in a wrinkled clump as he stared.
Dolan turned with us and addressed the man.
“Excuse me, friend. We’re not strangers here, but we’ve not spent the most time in ~”
“Yet, you stand around like elderly rats; can’t you see this is a place of business? We must clean it always. Clean! Clean! Clean!”
Dolan was about to retort when there came a booming voice.
“Yorell!” The high seat of the council stepped back into the room, a tall slender staff of fine quality he held in his hand finely robed with several thick layers of silk, which I now know to come from the far reaches of the Sea of Fallen Stars. “You clearly have no idea who you address!” He walked to stand amid the party and stomped his staff has he pronounced, “This is Kira’s Silver Fist, heroes of our time, and perhaps one of the final hopes for the survival and continued sanctity of our home!”
Yorel’s form lowered in a snivel, and he dropped into a bow at the admonishment of his superior.
He grumbled his apology and ended with, “your grace.” He then rose and slumped away.
Foxx grunted as the man departed. I knew he had marked him for a purpose.
“You’ll forgive our servant, kind members. He’s been with us…,” then he stopped and looked around. “Let’s just say he’s been with us a shade past ‘too long,’ if that makes any sense.”
Everyone laughed, but I didn’t get it. Common he spoke quickly, saying something about always being in Water Deep. He said we could stay wherever we wanted. He laughed a lot and, I kept my distance. The only laugher I have grown accustomed to is Foxx’s. Kira I have never once heard laugh. She is mostly busy making sounds of bashing. BASH, BASH, BASH, Kira!
…It’s a good sound.
Perhaps she laughs while she bashes. I cannot say.
Malcer the Wizard giggles strangely. It’s very odd.
Dolan seems to be laughing constantly. He prays to his god of the sun (I wonder if my Queen knows of this Lathander). Then he simply begins to walk around with a strange smile, as though he sees morning daisies around my ears or cackling hyenas dancing in a drugged frenzy. I cannot tell. Even when I look away and look back, he’s smiling in a very strange. But, without him, our party is lost.
Never have I known a group of beings so different who have grown so fond of one another. Each of them, their strangeness I have grown accustomed to, and in the time our differences have spent together, they have become an odd part of the great sylvan destiny Mother Meliekki has bestowed upon me.
The party returned to our inn at Waterdeep. Malcer and Kira trotted up the steep grey staircase and returned to their rooms for some sleep. Dragonborn, it seems, require as much as the humans. Dolan, Foxx, and I remained below. In many ways, humans and elves share concepts of ceremony. I recall very fondly the names of local heroes of the Grandfather Tree; when they were lionized in our home, their names were etched in homes and halls, and in all areas of service, places were held specifically for them. As soon as we walked into the Inn, there were whispers; the raucous atmosphere dimmed, and two barmaids gestured to a table in the back which, like in my culture, held our party’s name reserved. Just after we sat, the conversation level rose in the common room, and a team of small minstrels began playing to the crowd. I recognized only one instrument which humans share with elves. The others were purely human.
“We depart tomorrow,” Foxx said, keeping his tongue only in elvish, “after breakfast.” He turned back and called to the bar for a round of ale. The bartender nodded and began the order.
“Not all of us,” I said. “You will do better as a party without me. Hunting Wizards of Thay…” I shivered. “Chills. May the Good Queen harbor you in your travels.”
Foxx and Dolan considered my words.
“What will you do?” asked Dolan. “I ask as I feel similarly.” Still that smile he shone on me, as the sun of morning shines on Meliekki’s fields of life. I looked at him briefely, then turned away.
“Home,” I said. “Home to the High Forest.” I sniffed at the froth of the large mugs set down at our table, then dunked my head fully in the refreshing foam. “AAAHHH!”
“You got a little something…right there,” he said, and started laughing. Dolan joined in, laughing through his freaky Lathander smile. I didn’t get it – their humor is unfunny, and age-causing. With a look of contempt, I took another sip of the beverage (I must admit, the liquids made in the world of man are greater by far than what we have in the land of the copper elves.
“May I join you, then?” Asked Dolan.
“You would want to come to my home?”
“I cannot have our ranger on the wild road on her own,” he said.
“That’s her home, idiot,” Foxx chimed in. “She knows it better than you do. By the way, here’s all the gold from your back pocket.” He dropped a heavy bag on the table center and smiled. “Mage hand.”
“So you’ve finally figured out how to use it? Good. It’s only taken a year.”
Malcer and Kira joined us and asked for two more mugs of ale.
I looked at Dolan. “Foxx’s roguish ways may hurt your heart, but he is right. It is my home, and I would likely be quite safe on the road there. But,”
“I’d otherwise be simply here praising the glory of Lathander. He tells me it’s always good to be in the company of friends. Let’s say it would be better for me.”
“What’s this?” Kira asked.
“Faëryn’s heading home while we track the Wizards,” Foxx related. “Dolan’s going with her.”
“Fine!” Malcer shot out, seemingly unnerved. “We don’t need you!” The table stopped to stare at him. He met each of their gazes. “Okay, okay, that’s not true, you little freakish elf. We do need you. I just don’t like splitting up the party.”
I nodded and scooped some of the foam from my mug and placed it on the table in front of him – an elven gesture of giving. “It will only be for a short time, my skittish wizard friend. Besides, it will be better when tracking the Wizards that you all have Malcer to burn things down unnecessarily.”
“Fireball!” Malcer screamed slamming his staff to the ground.
The music snapped in the air and the minstrels dropped to the ground, tossing their instruments into the crowd. Everyone dropped from their chairs and ducked under their tables.
We all watched and I nodded in satisfaction. “Exactly.”
“What?” Malcer said. “I didn’t even do anything. It’s just a word. I just…” He stood and yelled across the room. “IT’S JUST A WORD!”
“Umm, we should leave,” Foxx said.
As we tiptoed over the frightened bodies of the patrons, I motioned to the barkeep to put our drinks on the wizard’s tab.
That was the conclusion of our first day in Waterdeep.