The Crafters of Lon

Ctharyan's Journal. Entry 1

Extended rests. How droll and boring. While I must admit some level of admiration of my comrades, I cannot bring myself to drift into unconsciousness as they do. It has been nearly 50 years since I last entered the realm of dreams, and the visions were enough to keep me from its hazy shores. As luck would have it, my ancestors foresaw this problem, and were wise enough to develop a more efficient form of respite. Unfortunately, my comrades still require, as Vealkarion puts it, “a visit from the sandman.” That phrase always struck me oddly. What manner of imbecile allows a spirit to pour sand into their eyes? I digress.

To better pass the time, and to distract me from the repulsive sounds of a sleeping Dwarf, I have decided to take up writing this journal. Perhaps I may find it amusing at a later date, or lead a kind soul to my decaying corpse. Either one is likely.

In my short time as a member of The Grey Hand, as we have come to call ourselves, we have had ups and downs, to say the least. Over this period of time I have become familiar with the weight, feel, taste, and smell of a Platinum piece where before I had barely known the sight of a few silver. I have also become familiar with the taste and viscosity of my own blood. On some days we are champions, and on others, we are humbled.

Today we were humbled. When I first set boots in Sigil, I felt like a complete stranger. Lon fills me with this same sense of unfamiliarity. Not more than an hour after our arrival did we lose Inadia. This Airship Captain is quite puzzling. A brash and playful youth. The poor child is probably just bored, and now that his father is gone, he has nobody to reprimand him for hitting too hard. We must meet with him. The Genasi here are set in their ways. I doubt there a way to convince either the earthlovers or the industrialites to compromise. At best we may establish a truce that will hold at least until we depart, at worst our presence may trigger all out war. The Windsoul may be our best chance of obtaining a pound of this Rasium substance.

Tomorrow we go to a meeting between the two cities. The Curators, as the earthlovers call themselves, tried to lock us into supporting them at the meeting. How foolish. Our presence alone will be enough to agitate the Builders. They will see it as evidence that there IS more Rasium out there. IF we arrive and strongly endorse the conservationists, it will surely spark tensions. I think the best thing to do is to have both sides make their case, come to some sort of agreement, and then find a way to get our hands on Rasium.

As for our eventual escape, I will need more information before I am comfortable with anyone coming back to Sigil with us. Lon may not have any exits, but Sigil is a far more dangerous cage. Altruistic concerns aside, I worry that telling anyone cooped up in this tiny demiplane we have a way out may end in blood. - Ctharyan



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