My name is Gethstal Dasheel, Cleric of Boccob. It has been a little over a fortnight since I arrived in the port town of Majere charged with investigating strange meteors and capturing one of the rock monsters that seem to spring from the very craters of the meteorites. I have since battled and imprisoned a rock monster with the help of a small group of fellow adventurers, and Boccob has blessed me with enough foresight and luck to charter a ship to Ankhapur to deliver this specimen into the appropriate hands of awaiting mages.
I write this log from the leaking hull of the freighter The Corpulent Maiden as it crawls past the Arnrock. The sailors aboard tell me of small villages of Sanghuin that spot the shoreline of the Arnrock and of a recent eruption that sent them spilling back into the ocean. The Arnrock has captured my curiosity and I have felt a strange sensation in my guts since the rock has entered my sight.
This night the steaming lake we are crossing spewed out a raiding party of Locathah which took the lives of two of this ship’s crew before our party could repel their attack. Grunt, the Elven rogue, in a desperate attempt to save my life threw himself from the very top of the crowsnest trying to buy me some time to heal myself. His attempt failed but I will remember his courage and count him among the more daring of this group. I was also surprised by virtue of this groups willingness to work together when a greataxe [thrown by the female Dwarf Bazinga] split the head of one of my attackers. And before the battle was finished, I witnessed the same Dwarf snap another of the Locathah’s neck with her barbaric hands… only pausing briefly before biting a chunk from it’s lifeless, fishy neck. The mortician and fellow worshipper of Boccob, Jevod, prepared their bodies for burial and we have spent the rest of the night huddled below deck speaking low of our destination and what we will do when we are all on solid ground again.How I hate the hazardous business of sailing. How I long for the sight of Boccob.