22 Tarsakh, 1502 D.R.

This month has been characterized by cleaning up the messes of the past month, and discovering or creating new and exciting ones.

The Syndicate continues to grow in renown, not to mention in membership. I met several newcomers to our ranks, and there are many more I've yet to meet -- for I have largely absented myself from the hall to deal with my own affairs and side projects. Solia and I have reconciled, at the least, and this is good and fortuitous; I disliked being at odds with her. She and Shev are still very much at odds, though they work together with cold courtesy. Bri accompanied Solia and me on a mission to hunt down Orlak, the goblin that slew her, but she is taciturn at best, and I feel as if the opportunity to get to know her better was wasted.

The actual work has slowed, for me at least, perhaps on account of competition from the new members; there are fewer jobs to go around for the number of willing hands. Those jobs I have taken have been mostly continuations of prior ones. Yet my own business flourishes, and several members have set up their own -- Jax, Solia, and Na'ima, that I know of. I hope that theirs do not face the tribulations that mine has. Shining Peaks has been beset from all sides, suffering some four attacks in as many tendays. Yetis, giant toads, harpies, and vindictive cyclopes angry about the deaths of the harpies. My grounds are running out of room for trophies.

As fast as the Syndicate is growing, it is not without its own troubles. Shev and Bri were apparently beaten and robbed in an inn in Loudwater. Both Solia and Mimsy, who I've only met in passing, have met their demise and been raised. Across the region, we seem to be met with suspicion despite our efforts to quell the disproportionately common monster attacks and misfortunes that seem to surround us. It is disconcerting, to say the least. One can hardly travel the road to Loudwater, or even be secure in their own home, without facing attack.

Still, I have hope for the future. Our powers have for the most part swelled in proportion to the troubles we have been obliged to face, and suspicion notwithstanding, we still find welcome about town. I am confident that with time and continuing effort, we will soon establish ourselves securely.

-- Yashir adh Rumahr

23 Tarsakh, 1502 D.R.

An anomaly with the Syndicate thus far, this was more a personal mission than a sanctioned Syndicate job, we were *not* called upon to do anything at all. Last tenday, Solia, Bri, and I all sallied forth in pursuit of Orlak, a vicious little goblin who we captured in a previous mission, and who subsequently murdered Solia before making good his escape. According to the wanted posters scattered around Shining Falls (and apparently surrounding towns as well), he had carried out numerous murders since.

This mission is not directly about him. During our pursuit of Orlak, we came upon a band of murderous cannibalistic gnolls. Outnumbered, we elected to pass them by for the time being, but vowed to return to end their threat before it could spread to the Syndicate, and to end their blight upon nearby towns. That is what we came to do today.

We had discovered, also, along the way, a fallen Dwarven statue. In an old Dwarven script upon its base, we deciphered a memento that referenced an ancient Dwarven city, and speculated on the possibility of a subterranean network of tunnels that might still exist. If so, we imagined, Orlak might be hiding there.

Returning to the ridge and cave where we had discovered the gnolls last tenday, accompanied this time by volunteers Na'ima and Surx, we took some time to set up a series of ingenious traps to even the odds. They served us well in the battle to come. Na'ima drew the beasts out of hiding, and we engaged most of them outside their lair. Defeating them handily, we proceeded inside to search the cave. We found many corpses, including one who appeared to be some sort of fiendish cultist, but no living victims.

A second party, returning from the gods know where, entered the cave behind us, and we stood to battle against them and their giant hyena mounts. Though spread out and outflanked, we nevertheless prevailed through good tactics and teamwork. Our injuries were minimal and our losses none at all. An unqualified success, all in all.

-- Yashir adh Rumahr

20 Tarsakh, 1502 D.R.

Captain Aurora of the Cutlass has called upon us again. It was such fun the first time.

This time around, we were not obliged to do battle at sea. Instead, we were asked to infiltrate what is apparently a pirates-only establishment in the Trackless Sea. Our specific task was to learn what we could about a pirate crew called the Dark Tide; we were told that they had once been "code-following" pirates, whatever that means, but had turned to a terrifying cult.

Arriving at Waterdeep, we set sail for the island and... well, we were given the tools we would require to serve our purported parts as pirates. The others -- Shev, Surx, Bri, and especially Na'ima -- seemed to take great joy in their roles, whether for the sake of performance or wish-fulfillment. I... well, I did my best, but it is against my nature. I resolved to let them do the talking.

And talk they did, once we landed. First, they talked their way past a (physically) piggish man named Rummy Goldsnout, and then they talked their way through The Salty Mast, the bar where we were meant to find information about the Dark Tide. How we were to find such information was beyond me at the time, as a sign out front forbade their entry, but in we went anyway, with the assumption that the locals would at least know something about our quarry.

They did, as it turned out, but most were not willing to talk about them. Bad omens, I understand. But the group, minus myself, continued to talk, and learned what they required. A whole crowd of the Dark Tide pirates had taken a large room at the top level of the inn, and there their captain settled disputes amongst the crew from a literal throne. They became increasingly rough and unpleasant, and then one day, they simply vanished, leaving the room a mess.

At the bidding of one Captain Blakemore and the bartender, we went up to investigate the room. After prying off the boards the bartender had had put up and unlocking it, we passed through and looked around. The room was indeed an opulent mess, but Surx gathered enough papers to find references to Jotur -- an old world-sinking sea serpent god who was purportedly trapped beneath an island -- and that island, and a horn. We had been given to understand that the pirates had been talking about freeing Jotur from his prison, after having made a pilgrimage into an eternal storm that rages where that island was supposed to have been prior to its sinking, and being the only ones to return from such a mission.

Searching the throne, we found the horn. The moment I picked it up, we were dragged into a sort of living memory. In this vision, if vision it was, we witnessed the sinking of the island and the rage of Jotur, and participated in the defense of a priest of Valkur and a priestess of Umberlee as they worked their magic upon the horn, trying to break the curse that trapped us and several other pirates within. The captain of these pirates had already succeeded, apparently, but had left them behind. Needless to say, we also succeeded, and were immediately returned -- with these pirates -- to the room at the Salty Mast.

Questions yet abound, of course. Where did the captain go? Why did he leave behind the horn that was apparently key to loosing the god he seems to serve? It may be that my understanding of matters is deeply incomplete. What I do know is that a band of violent pirates is hells-bent on sinking the whole world beneath the ocean and letting a dark god rule over all. Whether they are capable of such or not, their effort alone will make them dangerous indeed, for who knows to what lengths they will go?

I suspect this will not be the last time we hear from Captain Aurora, or of the Dark Tide.

-- Yashir adh Rumahr

14 Tarsakh, 1502 D.R.

This was an odd mission. Back to the Moonshae Isles, where it seems that everything that can go wrong, spectacularly will.

The captain of the guard in this city contracted us to come look into a murder. It was an odd one, he said, and one the guards could not -- or would not -- solve themselves. His reasons for outsourcing help so far away remain entirely opaque, but I am reasonably certain that they are one of two: either he was amused to do so, or he was simply to lazy to do his job himself. I suppose it could also be both. The entire town was absolutely obsessed with baked goods, which struck me as oddly sinister.

Well. Bri and Shev examined the victim. I do not know what they found, save for what they told us -- a black ooze in his head and in parts of his body. Solia and I, in the meantime, went to question the victim's neighbor, who had found the body. A pleasant old woman, or so it seemed. She seemed less interested in the murder than in offering us cookies. I declined.

The woman seemed friendly enough, but she avoided our questions and concealed what she knew. When pressed, she attempted to cast a charm upon us, and worse. Combat ensued. I shall not beat around the proverbial bush any farther: she was dead already, and filled to the brim with the same vile black ooze. It packed quite a punch, and was quite caustic when it splashed on me every time I struck it, but Solia and I were able to nullify it in short order.

But the trouble was not over. More slimes were popping up throughout the city, and we had to hurry to contain them before more people were infected. As we went, striking them down as we found them, we slowly learned about them: they were, I now understand, devouring knowledge. They left behind blank books, consuming the words and information contained therein. They consumed their victims' brains in the same way, and assumed their lives to avoid notice, as they had with the old woman.

Finally, we learned the source of the oozes: the city's largest central library. We traveled there and found it practically empty, save for one intoxicated young man. We pressed him for information and sent him on his way.

The library was rife with tiny oozes, each one slowly erasing the books they came across, each one making its way to some central location. Following one, we discovered a trapdoor.

What we found beneath was... predictable. So predictable that Shev felt the need to predict it out loud, and we all rolled our eyes and agreed. A giant slime was down the stairs, comparatively intelligent and powerful. It made empty excuses for its villainy, claiming responsibility for the vandalism of the city's books and for the murder, yet believing itself vindicated by virtue of... just learning? I can't be guilty because I'm just learning? I think that was the general point.

Whatever the case, we fought. A second slime dropped down from the ceiling to support it, but Solia locked it down with her arrows while Shev, Bri, and I finished off the comparatively smart one.

The useless captain was grateful to us, and rewarded us with a pittance of gold and a job-well-done.

-- Yashir adh Rumahr

6 Tarsakh 1502

The party was summoned to the Moonshae Isles. Our job was to protect an apparently very valuable swarm of bees from forces unknown, but who presumably wished their destruction. The bees were being transported by a ship that was also a carnival. I could not make this up if I tried.

Tasked with this momentous escort purpose, we naturally... played carnival games for several hours. There was a pie-eating contest where the pies were poisoned to make you vomit, and the goal was to eat as many as possible *before* vomiting. Why I chose to participate, I do not know. I do know that I won. Then there was an extraordinarily strong halfling man, and then... well, it was carnival fare all around.

After several hours of this, someone thought at last to inquire after the bees, and where they were being kept. Solia went down and communicated with them -- apparently they were intelligent. What passed between them, I do not know, but we had little time to wonder. Soon, a great vortex appeared out of nowhere and dragged us down to the bottom of the ocean.

We were unharmed. So was the ship.

The captain asked us to disembark, instead of carrying out our sworn duties of protecting the bees, and sally forth on a wild goose chase to maybe go see what was causing this vortex. Off we wandered, and we ran into a crew of crab people and their master, the latter of whom immediately fled back out through the vortex. We dealt with the crabs, but the vortex was undeterred, and we returned to the ship.

What do you suppose happened while we were gone, dear reader? If you imagined that the ship might be attacked in our absence, well, I think all of us could have predicted it just as well.

The bees were all in a fury when we returned. A small jar of their royal jelly had been stolen, and it was up to us to go find it before the bees slaughtered everyone in sight. One of the crew had taken it. We took it back from him and returned it to the hive. In the interim, more monsters emerged from the depths -- hags and worse -- and demanded that we hand over the jelly for themselves.

We fought. We won. It was, all around, a frustrating if amusing mission.

-- Yashir adh Rumahr

28 Ches,1502 D.R.

These are tumultuous times.

The Glassfang Syndicate is, as an organization, still very new to the Shining Falls locale. Accordingly, I am relatively unfamiliar with the ordinary course of things. Perhaps the region has always been like this. Perhaps, when one settles down long enough, it is the way of things in all places. I wouldn't know. My life before the Syndicate could hardly be described as settled. Be that as it may, I was never aware of the sheer variety of tribulations that plague an apparently sleepy little halfling town.

Goblins. Yetis. Hags. Vermin of unusual size. Giant metal bulls that turn you to stone. I have lost count of the monsters and the hazards I've faced, and that's just the local fauna with which one must evidently contend on the way to the outhouse. Such a reckoning does not begin to categorize what we've faced on formal missions abroad -- teleported to the literally damnedest of places to do battle with other people's problems. Well. At least we get paid for that. And by "that" I mean everything from goats holding political office to griffins to pirates on the high seas to infernal engines of war in the Nine Hells themselves.

We have made enemies of nearly all of them, and loose alliances with some few. Though I, for one, have sought to keep neutral and give my loyalty to the coinpurse as befits a mercenary, it has not always been possible to avoid taking sides. Still, as an organization we seem to remain on good terms with all of the local big names, for now at least.

It has been a lucrative business, at least incidentally. While our first few jobs paid poorly for the danger to life and limb, I did acquire several valuable magic items, the sale of which funded a burgeoning business for me. I have grown somewhat in skill and power, and Kasim has spoken -- albeit without words -- for the first time in months. It gives me hope that he may one day recover, if I can offer him enough. Yet I am discomfited, for I have some cause to suspect he may be hiding things even in his reduced state.

My new colleagues -- whose roster expands weekly -- have developed their own powers. All bring their own varied talents, but I wonder if some of them are less well inclined toward the mercenary lifestyle as they might think. I have taken a step or two back from the social aspects of the Syndicate, for I have, I think, allowed myself to grow too close to some of them for my own comfort and theirs. It ill befits a mercenary to shed tears for fallen comrades, or to worry for the wellbeing of aught but his own purse. While I have tried at every turn to foster the camaraderie that will keep us alive in the field, at every turn I have seen those seeds sprout into unwholesome drama if anything at all. I've retreated to my business endeavors for the time being, and shall respond to calls as they come.

-- Yashir adh Rumahr

30 Ches, 1502 D.R.

Summoned by the same party we had helped some time ago in the distant north, we were called upon by people whose names I cannot pronounce to rescue, much to my surprise, the son of a frost giantess.

The boy had been taken by the Blood Riders, who had apparently raided a scouting party's encampment some days prior. There was some sort of uneasy truce between the two factions that prevented the giants and the scouting force from mounting their own rescue mission -- but nothing prevented them from hiring us to do it, since we were outsiders. We were, however, admonished to avoid bloodshed as best we could all the same, to preserve relations.

We traveled for days, facing owlbears and cold and rockslides of snow. I am still picking snow out of places I'd rather not mention, but with the aid of horses I'd negotiated for, we made it to the battlefield in good time.

The camp was devestated, of course. We expected nothing less. We poked around a little bit, but found little other than a woman's finger hewn away by a giant axe. Little worth salvaging, but we found the path of our quarry well enough. They had dragged away a giant; it was not difficult to follow.

We followed that trail to a river, where we faced an Orcish ambush which Solia was clever enough to spot. We were more prepared for them than they expected, and though one escaped us, all the rest perished. We continued on our way.

The camp of the Bloodriders was abuzz with activity, and the frost giant child was caged in the center. This proved no particular difficulty for Solia, not aided by the combined magical power of the rest of us. She slipped up to the cage, started an insurrection of horses, and freed the giant child, and we all slipped away in the chaos -- even the giant, all unspotted.

Nevertheless, when we reached the river of the orcish ambush again, the Bloodriders were waiting for us. They made threats. Solia gave them the finger -- and I mean that both figuratively and literally, as she produced the severed finger we'd found at the scout encampment, which belonged to the Bloodriders' leader, and threw it at their feet.

Combat ensued, needless to say. Through trial and pain and the power of our newly-freed companion, we prevailed, leaving them all dead.

So much for not shedding blood. We returned the child to his grateful mother, and were paid for our good work -- though I must admit to feeling a touch useless, myself. Still, any one you walk away from.

-- Yashir adh Rumahr

11 Ches, 1502 D.R.

Once again, the Syndicate has been extended a courteous invitation to a party destined to go terribly, terribly wrong.

Thrax himself teleported us to Baldur's Gate for this one. There were carnival games and carnival foods and carnival rides and carnival people, but the main event was an apparently terribly important horse race, a derby as they call it. We were to participate in the race; Thrax apparently betted heavily upon it, and was relying upon us to win it at any cost.

Well, he must be disappointed. No sooner did the officious petty lord in charge of the affair stand up to begin speaking than we were all sucked into Hell.

Reader: I do not write these words lightly, nor do I jest. The four of us -- myself, Solia, Bri, and Sylthas -- were all dragged unwilling through a portal to Avernus, the first layer of the Nine Hells. It happened. If I make it sound abrupt, if it seems jarring and bewildering to the reader of these notes, then I have perhaps begun to do the experience justice.

When we regained our bearings, we were met by an especially odious rakshasa, who gave us an ultimatum: it was he who had called us to this place, and we could either do his bidding and be sent home with a substantial reward, or... find our own way home. His bidding was to recover a trove of soul coins (twenty-eight, to be specific) from a rival of his. We were given a hellish engine of war to help us accomplish this task. Needless to say, we accepted.

We were given a list of encampments controlled by the rakshasa's rival. Armed with our customized infernal machine, we rolled up and laid waste to the guardians of two of them before we found the coins required of us and more. We were then recalled, but before we could be given our reward and returned to our home, the aforementioned rival arrived with a small army of their own machines, and we were forced to hold them off while the portal was made.

We accomplished this task as well, and in the end, the wretched creature kept its unholy word. It sent us home with a small trove of valuable magic items, to find that the derby we'd come for was already entirely over.

Is it... is it wrong to say that I rather enjoyed the experience? Hell notwithstanding, the machine was mighty almost beyond measure, and I regret that the thing disintegrated upon crossing through the portal back to the Material.

Well, it is over, in any event, and I am certain we shan't be hearing from that creature or his infernal people again.

-- Yashir adh Rumahr

5 Ches, 1502 D.R.

The Syndicate was called upon for a rescue mission, and myself, Cal, Solia, and Shev were chosen for the work. Seer of the Lord's Alliance, and a dwarf named Amelia, tasked us with locating a dwarven expedition that had been trapped within a holy site by a small army of ogres and an avalanche. She gave us directions and advised us that time was of the essence.

Accordingly, we made all haste along the path prescribed for us. Though we were ambushed along the way by a pair of owlbears, and ran afoul of a small avalanche ourselves, we made it to the ogre encampment in good time. Solia, to her credit, was able to steal a pair of signal horns from the ogre sentries, and we sounded one as a distraction, then slipped through the encampment in the chaos. Within the holy site, we met the band of dwarves we'd come to rescue, and in good enough time that none had perished. A small band of ogres attempted to change that fact with a random attack, but we were able to fend them off. Then, on the advice of the leader of the task force, we used a giant sarcophagus lid as a sled, triggered an avalanche, and road forth from the site.

With us we carried a great stone tablet, radiating magic and covered in ancient giant runes. This we left with Seer, though not before we made our own copy of the runes.

-- Yashir adh Rumahr

4 Ches, 1502 D.R.

Is there any such thing as a straightforward mission? To date, I have not been on one that was what it seemed.

Myself, Jax, Shev, Sylthas, and Bri were chosen for a mission to Waterdeep. There we met an old friend of Thrax's, who enlisted us as muscle against the eventuality of pirates. From the beginning, the mission was a little bit different from what was implied: the impression I gained from the initial letter was that we were sent to protect a merchant ship against the possibility of pirates, but the captain of the Cutlass soon informed us that, no, the Cutlass was in fact a warship disguised as a merchant ship, intended to lure forth a particular pirate ship and disable it, then -- having looted it -- destroy it.

We each learned a little about the workings of a ship, a series of painful lessons in our own ineptitude for the task. I am, perhaps, being too harsh; we are all of us first-timers before the mast, and there was much to learn, so mistakes are inevitable. Still, it seemed as if misfortune dogged our steps. But we did manage to learn the ropes, as it were, and for the sake of practice -- and to lure out our quarry -- we destroyed an old wreck that had been blocking a trade route.

As intended, the noise of the destruction practically summoned the pirates we sought. They unleashed a hail of cannonfire upon us, but they did not expect us to respond in kind. When we did, and they learned the hard way that our ship was armed, they attempted to flee. We pursued, and were the faster. After a short second exchange of cannonfire, I rammed the ship and thereby crippled it. As the crew began to abandon ship, we boarded and stood to battle.

That battle went fairly well. The captain was troublesome -- his pistols nearly struck Jax down -- but between the lot of us we began systematically wiping out those able to fight. Things took a great turn, however, when Bri knocked one of them into the water. That pirate was immediately devoured by a giant shark -- and then, as if summoned by the blood in the water, a second giant shark flew -- yes, flew -- out of the water, ridden by an armored elemental who refused to answer my entreaty for peace.

Needless to say, the battle became more complicated. The shark was a formidable threat, and the rider was no small challenge, either. Bri and Shev both nearly perished in the fight before we laid the creature low. At that, the elemental fled to the depths and was not seen again. It is worth noting, however, that the elemental and shark were not neutral in the battle, and entirely took the part of the pirates.

With all combatants defeated, we looted the ship and, and the direction of the captain of the Cutlass, sank her, bringing the job to a successful close.

-- Yashir adh Rumahr