Apologies for the delay in updating my logs – after having lost my treasured journal during an overnight escape from those marauding Orcs, I was unable to procure another notebook until now. Without going into too much detail, the caravan and I have been through a harrowing ordeal since those frightful nights. After reaching what we thought was a safe place to rest for a bit, an immense airship came crashing out of the sky, dragging some sort of mechanical tentacle along with it and laying waste to most of the village and, sadly, many of the pilgrims in the caravan.
After meeting the surviving crew, and excusing the poor manners of my Elven Paladin companion, I had words with the Captain of the ship, a shapely tiefling by the name of FitzRoy. Her deckhands, a group of Warforged sailors, set about recovering and repairing what little they could of the ship. Other survivors included an odd-tempered Warlock, a shifty Ranger, and an inquisitive Gnome who seemed more content to take measurements and catalog plants than to assist with the recovery efforts.
I also exchanged cautious words with the Missionary of the ship, Reverend Matthews. An imposing figure with blood red skin and horns, he clearly held a high position in the service of The Lady, something that I thought would trouble my Paladin companion more than it has. While the Reverend and I disagree in many ways, he seemed to show concern for the wellbeing of our pilgrims, as well as his injured crewmembers, so I grudgingly decided to accept his assistance. We managed to return the village to some semblance of stability before setting a watch and retiring for the night. Unfortunately, that’s when the real trouble began.