1 Mirtul, 1369
Hour: Matins
Despite Father's plans to leave Candlekeep, and ominous ramblings about danger, today began as any other, I entered the Candlekeep Inn, Winthrop made his usual racist commentary, and proudly rattled off the same ridiculous 'book' joke he makes every day. And as usual, I told him to stuff it. He called me "humourless", as though the only reason he still has an inn is because Ims would murder me.
Joke's on him today though, or at least his patrons, I then proceeded upstairs and relieved their bedside drawers of everything of worth. A better than usual haul today; Aleph complained, but honestly that cat does little but lounge in my pack and grumble at me.
There was one worthy guest of note at the inn today, Fatbeard Elvenhair or whatever his name was, has kindly donated a scroll to my collection or something along those lines, I wasn't really paying attention, but I must go check with Tethtoril and pick it up.
In other news, Phyldia, perhaps unsurprisingly, lost her book.
Again.
I must check with Father and see if some of these mouldy old tomes might not have some deleterious effect upon the mind, because I swear she is much worsened each visit. I daresay I'd best go look for it, if only for further spending money.
Hour: Lauds
I have been attacked!
Whilst checking the abandoned house in the Northern part of the keep, looking for that damnable book, some wretch by the name of "Shank" approached me unbidden, asking my name. Despite telling him to leave me to my search, he proceeded to attack me!
A swift blow to the head with my walking staff took him down easily enough, though it took several minutes to stop coughing after - apparently I am as ill suited for such activities as Imoen delights in telling me every twenty minutes.
Still, if I am to defend myself in the case of another attack, I'd best head back to Winthrop. Though the rectum-obsessed old fool claimed to be dislike me, I know he's secretly giving me a discount, I checked some of his customers' change.
On a happier note, I've found Phyl's book in the exact same place it was last time, Dreppin caught me whilst I was catching my breath. Quite why he looked so pleased with himself when he informed me about it I cannot say, but he's asked me to come back once I've dropped off the book and grabbed myself a weapon.
Hour: Lauds - cont.
On my way back Parda, ever eager to get the latest gossip (not that I can blame him in this fortress of dullitude) was all over the blood on me. I didn't want him figuring out where the blood came from - they're always insisting on making me drink vile herbal concoctions when they realise - so I was quick to play the sympathy card, sending him trundling off delighted at the latest news, all the while cackling "I told you so!".
Phyl paid up as usual, precious stones in exchange for minutes of work. Got to love early onset dementia. It was a shame that Winthrop decided it was worth all of seven gold coins - barely worth putting up with his babble - but it's always most gratifying to picture the bereft guests approaching him about their missing goods, only to find them among his wares. Though a bow was out of my price range (despite Father's clearly massive fortune to be able to pay Candlekeep's book toll, even with my own supplemental income, I have barely forty gold pieces, I must wonder at his grasp on economics), it felt better to hold a sword in my hand - at least until I had to switch back to my walking staff.
I took the opportunity to scribe a few scrolls I found in Winthrop's back room, I swear this is the third time I've had to populate my spellbook from scratch. Is Imoen selling them to the library?
Regardless, two new spells, Armour - potentially very useful I imagine, and Infravision - a spell I assume intended for use by some bizarre lesser race that somehow can't see in the dark. I should ask Imoen if she knows of one before I leave and lose the opportunity for who knows how long.
I've been dealing with that particular fact by ignoring it, to be honest. I'll miss her terribly, but she always was more Winthrop's creature than Father's, it should be safer for her here. But regardless, dwelling on it will help nothing. Seeing what mindless drudgery Dreppin wants will hopefully distract me from the inevitable a little longer.
Hour: Primes
Dreppin, scratching his privates more than is socially acceptable, has requested I locate Hull and find some magical cure-all for his "cow". Suddenly the way Phyldia's belongings keep ending up in his haypile take on a new and terrible significance. Hopefully the pain of leaving my lifelong friend will someday help blot this image from my mind forever, but a bow is a bow, I must find Drep- I mean "Nessa's" cure.
Whilst heading for the gates, where Hull should be stationed (if he hasn't finally died from his cirrhosis) Jondalar intercepted me, telling me that Father had told him to teach me the art of combat.
Just in the nick of time Jondalar.
On the bright side, he told me to stab him, I was so happy to oblige it came as a complete surprise when he told me that someone else had started shooting arrows at me during the "battle". Reevor, who'd watched the whole thing with disturbing intensity, then pulled me aside and threw me into his storehouse, which I'd been procrastinating entering for well over a week, given the smell. Trust a dwarf not to understand the concept of "perishables". Six dead rats later, and Aleph was finally happy, and full, for a change, a gift far more valuable than the *five* gold pieces that cheapskate paid me for exterminator duties, even though it took me an extra ten minutes sat down in there amidst the stench so that I didn't seem too exhausted when I came out.
No sign of Hull. Hope springs dully within my breast.
Primes - cont.
... Scratch that, he's still alive and on duty, though how he expects to guard anything having forgot his own sword is another matter.
He asked me to go through his stuff to find it, so naturally I accepted, only for yet another halfwit to try and teach me how to fight. Thankfully some volunteers got involved and did all the heavy lifting. Illusions or no, I've had quite enough battle for one day.
Hour: Terces
Apparently writing that tempted fate too far today; a second assassin has tried to murder me, I never found my habit of running buildings quite so dangerous! Fortunately I appear not to be as easy to kill as all that, as I took down my attacker in a single blow. I wasn't even breathing hard when Karan, another of the keep's resident gossip gurus charged up.
Fortunately, Hull's Sword was easily found (and it was most gratifying to be in the barracks rummaging around in the chests without having to worry about some uppity bald virgin taking offence!), as was Dreppin's medicine, so I dropped off one, then the other. Dreppin was most thankful, if a touch incoherent. I of course refused to shake his hand.
Hull of course, was an ass, but fortunately for him I am simply too tired to impale him with the sword he was too lazy to grab, and will soon be miles from here, too far to exact appropriate punishment for his demeanour.
Hour: Sexts
I've finally found Ims. She was hiding out in the gardens again, making life harder for Winthrop by neglecting to do her chores, the delightful girl. I told her we were leaving, and naturally she wanted to come. I said I'd ask Father, but she said something about a letter he was carrying, and that he'd never allow her to come. I've no shame in saying there was a lump in my throat when we parted, even her perpetual cheeriness felt a little hollow.
This "letter" however, is most interesting, perhaps I'll be able to sneak a peek at it during camp tonight?
Sexts - cont.
I was just heading to return to the inn, my efforts had finally paid enough dividends to purchase a new bow (come to think of it, wasn't it when Imoen asked to look at it when my last one disappeared?), when Tethtoril came and gave me that scroll that Fatbeard had offered me. I quickly scribed it, it's so hard to find decent folk nowadays, I resolved to thank him when I got back to the inn.
Checking with Winthrop, I picked up the last of the items I'd be bringing with me; a suit of leather armour, a bow, buckler, and a scant few arrows in addition to my sword. Thankfully I'd managed to locate a healing potion from someone's desk (I'm fairly sure the guards are still looking for me, something I consider to be an appropriate farewell gift to them). Though I'm still feeling a touch underprepared for this undertaking (this is my first sortie from the keep in over twenty years after all), I suppose it's now or never. It's time to go see Father and begin our journey.