by Milo Whidbey of Everlund, Historian & Cartographer
When I booked passage on the Waterdhavian ship The Jewel bound for the Moonshaes, I expected a relatively quiet voyage, a few days' rest, and then to continue on to the South to investigate the historic remains of the halfling people of Luiren. Such was not to be, however. A terrible storm blew us off course. The storm was so severe that I'm unsure how far or in what direction we travelled; as if that weren't bad enough, a reef left us shipwrecked on a strange land which no one in Faerun has heard of to my knowledge. The locals call it "Faerun Lost." This promises to be a career-making find; this "Faerun Lost" is even more obscure than the oft-neglected history of the halflings. Because of the truly extraordinay nature of this discovery, I've decided to catalogue the land and keep a journal of my explorations of it.
Most of the crew and passengers of The Jewel perished. I have banded together with a few of the survivors from the ship. Shane Highhill of Silverymoon seems a rather decent chap, but of course most halflings are. He's a monk, searching for "inner peace." Perhaps the quiet of the Moonshaes was alluring after the hustle and bustle of the North. Danesti Lalyth, a half-elf, has declared that she's more concerned with "outer wealth" than inner peace. She seems likable enough; a typical adventurer. Lastly, there's K'Korasaad Riverstone, a big, grumpy Elven warrior, from the Dales, who takes himself entirely too seriously.
We were rescued and brought to a little fishing village called Gwaryan. Here is a copy of the map of Gwaryan we bought from the harbormaster, Crylan. I apologize for the haste with which this copy has been made. Circumstances are rather less than ideal, and I shall have to make a new copy from the original at the first opportunity.
The Sleeping Willow Inn has terrible food and even worse entertainment. Heard the worst excuse for a bard this poor world has ever had the misfortune of birthing, a local named Liam. His playing brought us to tears, though not so much due to the subject matter as much as how it was rendered.
There is a land to the north called Caryst. It sounds like a terrible place; there is apparently a thriving slave trade there, and the residents of Gwaryan routinely sell shipwrecked orphans to Caryst. Such predation upon the small is intolerable, and we prevented it from happening to a young boy named Baeran by turning him over to the local temple of Sune as a ward. I wish I could say I was proud to do so; but the knowledge that the practice continues rather diminishes the victory.
We met the mayor, one Hentel Farperghast by name. He seemed amiable enough, but a bit absent-minded. He had a rather curious blend of pipe-tobacco with a strange, pungent aroma. The more he smoked, the more stupefied he seemed. We discussed with him the village's problem with some kobolds, and agreed to do what we could about the problem.
After trekking to the west, and somewhat to the north, we found some kobolds. It was the first time I've ever been in combat, and I must say it's not an experience I'm eager to repeat. The gods smiled upon us, however, and none of us were harmed. Perhaps this was a reward for our good deed concerning the boy Baeran. I'll be sure to make another donation at the Temple of Sune when we return. The sun is setting now, and thus ends my first day in this strange, new land.