Dear Spellbook,

I don’t know what happened. My plan for yesterday was to scout the road. I think you know me well enough by now to know that didn’t happen. I don’t even remember the end of the day, but I hope you can help me with that.

Riloth 19th the 18th

I walked out of the Parlor shortly after I said I would. On the way out I picked up the book Simon had found for me the previous day from the front desk. They kept a small collection of fiction for guests. This one was titled “Halfings, Full Hearts” and it was a rather imaginative romance about two young halfling's from feuding houses. I’ll let you know how it goes, so far it's not great.

With you in hand the crowd of the market parted before me. I decided against buying apples for my lunch today, the thought of them made me want to vomit all over again. It's going to be a while before I can eat those. One stall was selling exotic produce from beyond the surface of The Continent. They had dwarven cave moss, which looked like dirt-coated hair but had a pleasant nutty smell. I will need a lot more resets to get over the appearance of that one. One of the oddities with which I was familiar was sea sponge cakes. These cakes are harvested by the sea folk and traded to the surface for beef. The seafolk love beef. The sponges taste like scallops, but have a much spongier texture and take a lot of chewing. They make a good travel snack to chew on all-day treks if you don’t mind smelling like fish the whole time.

Pomegranate was my lunch of choice that day, which I'd never seen before. The vendor, Erok, explained how they were grown by the druids on the floating mats that roam The Ocean. He then went on to tell me how fortunate I was to arrive when I did because these were his last four and who knows when the mats would return to land for trade. Clearly, he was trying to make a sale, but I indulged him anyways, buying four at his outrageous price of two silver each.

As I turned to search out the horse trader Daulf had met on the first 19th, I was surprised by a woman collapsing at my feet. "Master wizard!” She cried as she clutched my legs. “I beg of you! Help me please! Please, I beg of you!”

Not having legs you probably aren’t aware of this but it's very difficult to free oneself from another who is clutching them. Not wanting to embarrass myself trying, I gently tapped her head and asked her, “Could you please get up, and explain yourself.” I tried to come off calm and reassuring but it ended up sounding like a child asking his mother if he could go out and play. I need to work on my wizardly air of authority.

At my voice she looked up, and then around to see we had gathered a crowd of observers. She stood up, dusted herself off, and wiped the tears from her eyes as she tried to recover some of her dignity. “Please master wizard, I need your help. No one would aid me except for a wandering knight, but even he has not returned!”

“Ma’am, I understand you need help, but what exactly do you need help with?” I asked her, urging her to her point.

“My Gerald! He's a woodsman, has a permit from the Parlor and everything to hunt these woods. He was hunting to the south 3 days back, and he hasn’t returned! Please, please, please, I beg you, I’ll give you anything, but find my Gerald.” She begged and by the end was in tears once more.

And just like that my plan to be methodical and thorough in my search ended. It lasted a whole half an hour from inception to foil. I could explore the area later, it's not like it’s going anywhere. “Alright, I will look for him, where was he last?”

It took her a moment to register my words but when she did her face lit up. Pulling from her satchel a hand-drawn map, she explained that her husband always hunted from a camp along the south road. Taking her map, I continued with my plan at least partially and bought a horse, and set off south.

I purchased the most “agreeable” horse the trader had to sell, not that there was a lot of choices. He had only 3 to choose from, a plow horse, an elderly charger, and the donkey we had purchased originally. I named the plow horse Ian, hoping a name would help us bond better. I don’t have the best track record with horses. It's not that I don’t like them. It's that they don’t like me, as if they can tell that horses in my company tend to not have good track records of... survival.

Astride Ian, I meandered through the bustle of the refugee camp, and down the south road. I traveled for an hour before seeing the lightning-struck tree which the woman, Beatrice, had told me to watch for. A few minutes past that, there was a narrow trail into the forest, far too small for Ian's massive plow horse frame. I patted Ian on the rump to shoo him back to town and set out down the trail. See? Not every horse I encounter is doomed to die. Though... I suspect Ian won't always fair so well for me in these resets.

I am not a woodsman. That was and will always be Roland's department. Branches crunch under my feet, animals flee at my coming, and I can’t tell a wolf’s print from a bear’s. Whoever had walked this path before me made my passage look like a field mouse in comparison. Branches were cut by a blade, leaves were trampled, and every place that I could see mud, there were huge armored footprints.

I followed the path of what I decided was either the knight hired by Beatrice, or a bear wearing full plate, and eventually came to the campsite Gerald maintained. It was neatly ordered with a stack of covered firewood and a lean too that looked quite cozy by the standards I judge piles of sticks in the forest. Taking the opportunity to rest, I unpacked my pomegranates to have a quick lunch before following the destruction further through the woods. Chances are good that if the knight hadn't returned either, he encountered whatever was keeping Gerald.

Pomegranates are not good trail food and my quick lunch turned into a moderately long one. Their skin was inedible and tasted quite awful if you tried it. They don't peel easily, and they are full of more layers of skin you must pick the fruit out of. The taste is amazing though, and almost worth the work. As a travel food, the apple still reigns supreme but grapes may now have some competition for top bath snack. I should have Simon peel some for me to take to the baths.

So, after some effort and covered in pomegranate juice, I continued on my search. I really need to learn Clean.

Trekking through the underbrush gave me time to reflect. As much as I am loath to admit it, I think Daulf was right about me. I always seem to entangle myself in the messy affairs of others. I stuck my nose into Trish's business without a thought, volunteered myself for that insane infiltration at Edgewater, and ran off after Bearskin, a man I'd known all of a day, as soon as I realized he needed help. I thought I was so focused on finding out my parents’ secrets but in hindsight my actions prove the opposite. It seems I take any opportunity to avoid following through on my plans. Case in point, I am cavorting through the forest looking for some woman’s husband when I should be methodically searching this area for clues.

Lost in thoughts, I followed the path cut through the woods for nearly an hour until the evidence of the knight’s passing became harder to detect. Where before every dozen steps there was a hacked tree branch, now the trail was reduced to footprints. Deeper footprints from a running foot, spaced out and not the closely spaced ones from before. I slowed to inspect them and that was as much as I remembered when I woke up this morning. Now though, if I try to write about it, I can remember what came next. While crouching down, trying to make out the footprints, I heard a noise in the distance. Abandoning my pitiful— okay terrible— attempt to track, I headed towards the sound. As I grew closer to it and it became louder I sped up. Where before I had been walking carefully and avoiding obstacles, now I felt a compulsion to run towards the sound as quickly as I could. Branches whipped my face, thorns tore at my clothes and my legs quickly became coated in mud.

This is very strange for me. I am remembering this as though I had experienced it, but there are no thoughts. Normally when I recount a day through you, my state of mind from that time is running through my thoughts as I write, and my current thinking takes a back seat until I call upon it to analyze my writing. Here though, as I write, I only feel a constant drive. A need to obey with no room for any other thought. Something had taken control of me.

As the sound picked up, so did my speed. I started sprinting through the woods and taking wounds for it. My ankle twisted painfully on a root, but I did not slow. Eventually, the trees ended at a clearing with a modest ruin at the center. It was another dwarven outpost, but larger than the one we had camped at on the original 19th. It had four walls each a story high, with two towers that rose as up five or six stories, almost to the tops of the trees. One of the walls had collapsed where a gate had once stood. I could now hear the sound coming from the closest tower, and could clearly make it out as some otherworldly singing driving me to come to it. I ran to the wall at the base of the tower and began to climb, only to fall on my butt when I put all my weight on my ankle. At my fall a head poked out from above between the crenelations.

The head was that of a beautiful woman, with angular features, and a large nose and. Why did I write “beautiful”? I can picture this face clearly in my mind and it was rather plain, bordering on ugly. I think I was getting lost in my magically influenced thoughts of the moment, the drive to obey was overcome by a desire to be with that creature.

Focus.

The face seemed surprised at my presence. After a moment’s contemplation, the head stuck itself out further and leaped off the tower revealing a gangly skeletal body covered in patchy feathers. She spread her wings to slow her fall and banked around in a gentle arc, landing quite far away. Her landing was as graceful as her figure was bea... What am I doing? This is getting harder to resist.

She approached me cautiously. All I wanted was to run to her but I could sense she would not approve. Each step she took brought me more joy than I had ever felt in my life. When she reached me I wondered why I was so blessed to be in her presence. She escorted me over the pile of rubble, where a gate had once stood, to a group of men and an ogre. As we approached the group stared at my escort with eyes full of longing. They were rightly in awe of the majestic creature who I was so blessed to be escorted by. Her beauty was like the sun on.. Stop it! These are getting worse, it's getting harder to stop writing each time. Spellbook, if I write beauty, beautiful or majestic, show me a doodle I’ve drawn of Daulf.

She escorted me to the circle and left, taking off into the air like a divine being casting off the dust of the mortal realm. Her beauty

Alright, FOCUS. Let's focus on anything but that creature.

My companions were all staring at her as she left and continued to stare at the tower when she fell out of sight behind a crenellation. We stood there for hours, staring at the tower, unmoving, not speaking, just waiting for a glimpse of our divine love. While standing there, I examined the competition for my love’s affection. The ogre was no threat, he was a hideous monster, slack-jawed and dim-eyed. Despite his obvious lack of intelligence, he was tall and imposing, and could prove a strong defender of my love's virtue. Surely she would balk at his obvious lack of intelligence.

My next potential rival I presumed to be Gerald. I was filled with contempt for the man I’d come to save. How dare he betray his wife Beatrice to bow before this goddess. Surely she would see through his duplicitous heart. She would choose me over him.

My last rival I considered to be an actual threat. The handsome knight towered over me, almost seven feet tall, clad in his once brilliant armor that was now covered in mud and missing its helm. He bore no sword, so a good knight he was not. His chin was strong but long in need of a shave, and he stank. They all stank as if they had soiled themselves. After noticing the smell, I saw more flaws, each of them was covered in blood and gore, and the remains of animal carcasses lay scattered across the floor.

These fools, they had desecrated the home of our love! My love! It was then I knew why she had called me. All these defenders of her honor were weak, pale imitations of her true desires. Me. They were simply to be our servants, and I was to rule this castle, nay, kingdom at her side.

When she flew away into the setting sun, I felt despair. I wanted to die and burn the world down with me. My servants about me felt much the same I could tell. The ogre had visible tears running down his face. I could hear Gerald sobbing behind me, but I could not risk a glance away from the horizon to see and risk a chance of missing my love’s return.

My stalwart vigilance paid off, for as the sun kissed the horizon, as I dream of kissing my love’s lips, she returned to us in her glory. Within her talons, she carried for us a gift, an offering for our faithful service. Before us, she dropped a deer, expertly slain, and for the first time in my presence, I was blessed to hear her voice in something other than her entrancing song.

“Eat,” she said, and my heart leaped with joy as she deemed myself worthy of her words. I joined as they tore into the feast before us, the innards tasted like the

Sorry, I just threw up all over the table. I could taste the... no, I will not write of it lest I taste it once more. Simon came over, cleaned it up all while giving me his most professional look, which I take to mean he’s plotting some way to get back at me tomorrow. Lucky for me he won't remember this.

I was really lost there, but the taste of raw deer entrails sure did knock me to my senses. I’m at the library now, I did some research. That creature which, I assure you, was not a divine being sent from the gods, is called a harpy. They look like some twisted cross between man and vulture. They fly with a pair of feathered wings that descend from their arms. They have the ability to enchant men with the power of their songs and bind them to their will. If someone is captivated too long, their minds break and they become nothing but subservient thralls. Thralldom sets in after around a week, but the damage to the mind can start before then.

The book speculated that they did not always look so hideous and sickly. They referenced legends of beautiful

I will need to remember to turn that off. They referenced legends of... comely winged humanlike creatures who entranced men with their looks along with their songs. The legend spoke of a queen of the harpies who was more bea the fairest queen in all the Realm. She captured men’s hearts with her looks and words alone, with no need for her magic, and captured the heart of a King’s eldest son.

The son, betrothed to another, fled his lands to be with her. His bride to be convinced her father and future father-in-law to wage war on the harpies and drive them from their homes. The harpies small in number, and who before rarely used their powers, used them in force to raise an army of entranced soldiers. Hordes of entranced humans, goblins, orcs, and a myriad of others met the two kingdom’s troops in battle.

Eventually, the two united kingdoms won through determination and their experience in war, and they destroyed the entranced mob of unfortunate slaves. When the harpies mountaintop aerie was breached, there were no harpies, or prince, to be found.

If the above legend is true and the creatures it described were the harpies of today, it was further speculated that their descent into these hideous vultures from the beau lovely avians they once were is a result of them being forced to breed with non-human races to continue their race. All children born to harpies are harpies themselves, and the entire race is populated by females.

It is speculated that they have an innate connection to the Font of the Mind. The book didn’t give any indication on how to break the control but mentioned if the target is not exposed for too long, the absence of the song will allow the effect to fade.

I’m going to try to finish out the day as briefly as possible so I don’t get lost again.

We ate the deer. It was terrible. We stood watching her magni decrepit ruin of a tower. She did not show herself the rest of the night and my heart w. We stood there until it was too dark to see and... I once again soiled myself. Somehow I kept the deer intestines down.

That was very difficult. So, I think this can go down as a lead. Not the harpy, probably, but the ruin itself.

I don’t know what to do. I should have ignored that Beatrice. Even if I help her husband, what will I accomplish? I need to stay focused. I can help him by escaping these resets and then slaying that harpy. I should stick with my plan, continue to explore, and then weigh my options. But... what if this is the lead I need? What if inside this fort is the answer? I don’t know, I will think on this tonight.

No matter what path I choose, I need to prepare. Casting at that boulder showed me how bad my aim truly is with Firebolt. I need to get into the habit of using all my Will each day to work on my aim. It's hard to improve when you could only cast a spell four or five times a day, but now with Levar's elixirs I should be able to do five times that at least. What Daulf said while nursing my wounds is probably true, I need to learn to handle myself in a fight better. Magical prowess grows slowly, and I am not accustomed to battle. You may have the impression of me that I am some valiant hero of countless adventures, but I assure you I am not. I am a man in over his head, with a little magic, and a lot of bad luck. Or possibly really good luck. Is it bad luck to find oneself endlessly in peril, or good luck to always survive?

Luck is not a thing I can change but I can practice my magic, so I'm off to do that now.

Training went by fast. I went out to the forest once more to avoid drawing attention. There were no improvements over my benchmark, but I would be shocked if there had been. I asked Simon for peeled pomegranates for the bath, which he produced in short order. Either they had these prepared or the man has some secret magic of his own. They made an excellent bath treat.

Show me my leads.

Leads:

Giant north of the town Outlaws out in forest ruins. Investigate runes Giant goat Dwarven caravan Harpy ruins

Thinking it over while training, I decided to continue with my survey. It might feel like I am helping Gerald in trying to save him, but I cannot bind myself to this same action every today. Tomorrow I will resume my survey of the area. I should not have allowed myself to be so easily distracted.

-Goodnight 19-