The Journal of Harren Smoulder Entry #6

It's a strange feeling looking up at the sky from down here; so infinitely far away on the surface but from down here it almost looks like it's just at the top of the abyss. I can see the stars still blinking up there. I'll miss it more and more as we move deeper and deeper.

The morning went by just like any other. A meal before anything else to prepare us for the big day ahead of us. First off to the Gimme brothers. They were more than happy to see all the feathers we brought along with us. Their word was good but the payment seemed like so much less now that we had won so much betting. They were far less happy to hear about the unfortunate red head we'd uncovered. They explained that she had tried to ambush them when they tried to gather feathers themselves. It all made plenty of sense. Self defense and defending your brother are a far different kind of killing than murder. Eric was much less forgiving of them, demanding a donation to his order in exchange for absolution. They happily agreed to put the whole incident behind them.

We spent quite a lot of money in their shop. Few spotted a small hand cannon she could comfortably fire with one hand. The Gimme brothers had made special ammunition that when fired would glow a bright red, igniting anything flammable it touched. Eric was interested in a suit of armor made just for someone his size. It was made of chain-linked mythril making it a much lighter option than his current chainmail. There was a hefty price to pay but easy come easy go I suppose. They tried to sell Zanvar a suit of armor they called Phalanx plate armor. Extra large plates were placed on both forearms to make shielding your allies that much easier, but he declined in favor of an enchanted longsword to replace his previous weapon. I wouldn't know were to start to move his soul from one suit of armor to another. I bought enough enchanted arrows to hopefully last me an expedition into the abyss. The feathers we'd brought were the finishing touches on a new longbow they'd been working on. They called it the Banshee Bow because of a small amount of magic in the bow string. If I scream while I have an arrow nocked the shot will blast whatever it hits back several steps. It seemed like smart idea but perhaps it wasn't worth as much as I'd paid.

On our way to see Mr. Skelebones we ran into Iblis. She wasn't upset about yesterday but she wasn't her normal chipper self. She only spoke to Few, and it was only for a moment. She shoved past the rest of us to hand Few a small doll made of sack cloth. She ran off clutching a similar doll close to her chest. I thought I could hear the doll in Few's hands breathing, but that couldn't be.

Gargoyles carrying boxes and barrels passed us on their way towards the docks. Mr. Skelebones was outside his small tower overseeing deconstruction. He said he was moving off the island to a place where he could feel magic more strongly. When he heard about our fish he spun his hands and head around while making an awful sound and the gargoyles all froze in place. The inside was a mess but his workshop was still mostly intact. He set to dissect his specimen, careful and deliberate.

He explained that the purple splotches were something you could only see near the abyss. They were a side effect of the magic draining down to the bottom of the abyss. Eventually, if nothing is done, the whole world will be without magic. A few years ago a man named Viktor was discovered to have been performing experiments with these purple lumps. He'd been trying to take advantage of all the magic that had ever flowed into the abyss He stole away immediately, retreating somewhere lower. He might still be down here, and if we do run into him he is not to be taken lightly. We stocked up on potions to increase our vitality and renew our strength as simple precautions but I feel great after drinking mine, like I could run for days.

Built on the abyss along the flattest cliff face is an elevator. Unfortunately that happens to be the exact opposite side the town is on. Even though I said I felt like I could run for days that doesn't mean I want to do all that walking. It was guarded by a pair of lazy looking men. They pointed out that Ilean hadn't written a name for our little group. Until we gave them a name they couldn't let us pass. We bickered a bit but Few handed them the paper again. While we had been arguing she wrote down her own name. “The Turtle Puppets”. What an absolutely ridiculous name, total gibberish! So to my chagrin we are now officially known as The Turtle Puppets. The ride down was uncomfortably smooth. There must be something more at play here than just ropes and pulleys. This trip was off to a less than exciting beginning.

The elevator took us as far as it could. We stepped off onto not too foreign ground with sparse grass and lots of uneven stones. The elevator rose back up on its own. If we need to go back up we can yank on a rope beside it to ring a bell at the surface. Hopefully there will be some more alert guards on duty otherwise I'm afraid they'll ignore our call. The sun cast humongous fast moving shadows. In the space of an hour they had made a full rotation as if the entire day had just passed. There was plenty of light regardless of the sun though. Something down here was producing light that emulated the sun's, complete with a period of dark for us to sleep during.

The scenery is something to behold. I doubt my words in the book will do it justice. There's a thin layer of clouds constantly swirling beneath us. It's like we've scaled an unbelievably tall mountain who's peak disappears up into the sky. There are no roads, boulders everywhere, and strange skittering wild life. I can see for miles and miles. Birds glide through the air gracefully watching bellow them for prey. It'd be funny if one came down and flew off with Zanvars helmet, though getting it back might be difficult. The birds fly back into small crevices to nest.

We spent most of our time finding a place to settle down for the night. There is very little in the way of shelter. The two boulders we've slipped between keep most of the wind out. Supper was a little sad, mostly bread and a few bits of beef. I'm regretting not making a point of purchasing some better food. We will surely find some fruits or vegetables growing in better soil on our hike down through the other layers. Tomorrow will be when we truly begin this journey.

The art of the mountains is called Over the Cold Mountain by Bastien Grivet