The following entries have been translated from Igdolith dwarven and curated for ease of reading.

11th day of Sardonyx, year of the Mountain 612

Dear Diary,

Over these long weeks that we have been traveling, I had feared that exposure or starvation would befall us before we would even see the ocean. I was never happier to feel wrong as I saw the beautiful blue vastness this morning. It is a terrifying and beautiful sight, to see a horizon so endless that it almost seems like the sea rises to touch the sky. Never before have I see so much water, even on the sixty-second floor of Whispering Stone where the depths are so deep.

The Pennisula of Penance is visible by spyglass at this point, and we have made camp on the shore. Albin is an experienced fisher dwarf, so he has caught us a hearty meal that is being roasted over the fire by Maluth. I have spoken often to you of the relationship that those two seem to have. One who cooks and one who hunts often make for great couples, and I do believe that they should see that before this journey is done.

They are the most personable of the expedition, the brothers MeltBlaze have still yet to have an extended conversation with me beyond our duties. The three of them are always making jokes with one another, especially when they think I can’t hear them. The amount of times I have heard jokes about a frictionless blowie is ridiculous. I’d knock their heads together if I thought that it would do anything. But Molin insists that I just let boys be boys and focus on the mission at hand.

The old codger is still giving me orders left and right because he thinks that I am not being a proper leader. I’d knock his head if I wasn’t certain my Pa would tan my hide the moment I get home. He isn’t a bad dwarf, just always with the constant lecturing about what proper ladies and gentle dwarves should be like. He reminds me of my old teachers, how they would just never stop with the words. Just like with them, I truly wonder how someone can talk so long without inhaling their beard or suffocating from lack of air. At least he talks enough for him and Elbur combined.

The Seer that my uncle has assigned to this expedition has been silent the entire time. Aside from vague mutterings as he looks into his crystal ball, I have no idea what he even sounds like. That plan I mentioned yesterday, about telling the joke to everyone? Not even a chuckle from him. I’m starting to wonder if he can only see where we are going, and everything else just falls to the wayside. One way or another, I will get him to say more than a word by the end of this.

Molin says that we have one more day of travel before we get to the Pennisula, and then the swamp will only be half a day’s journey from there. Once we arrive Elbur is going to take point so that he can act as a living compass right to the hammer. I pray to the depths of the mountains that we will be able to avoid danger.

See you tomorrow,

Velua WatchfulBronze

——

13th day of Sardonyx, year of the Mountain 612

Dear Diary,

We are officially in the swamp at this point, and I have to say that even the worst areas of Whispering Stone have never been as bad as this. We have been traveling for half a day, and already it feels like this place is trying to kill us. The peninsula is no fun place to be, I will admit. The winds and waves from traveling along the coast felt like my bones were freezing over, but at least I knew what was trying to kill me at that point. It feels like every step I take Molin warns me about another unseen danger that is right in the path.

Albin was trying to gather some fish around midday, and got his arm skewered by a group of DaggerTongue Frogs. Then when Twi MeltBlaze tried to attend the wounds, the blood attracted foot long mosquitos. If it wasn’t for his brothers Dle and Dum, then the both of them would have been drained dry. Since that started Maluth has been dipping her torches in drake-spit. Hate the smell of that foul concoction burning, but thankfully all the things around us hate it more. I am currently writing this entry by the acrid yellow light of a drake-spit campfire. Apparently Maluth had thought ahead and put an entire barrel on the wagon before we left. That was why Dle was puking himself silly two weeks ago, he had drank from the barrel and refused to admit to his stupidity.

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The swamp is already starting to wear on morale, but Molin is keeping our spirits bright. He has shifted gears, instead of his constant lectures of poise and propriety there is nothing but stories pouring from him. Comparing all of us to such brave adventurers of ages past, making us feel like heroes who will save the day. Never have i been so inspired by an old man since my grandfather’s passing. Apparently before he became a historian and guide, he was a classically trained bard of house SterlingTrumpet to the north. I have been too harsh on him during this journey, he is invaluable to us now.

I pray to the mountains that tomorrow we will have a more pleasant experience than today. I don’t know if we can afford many more injuries like what Albin experienced with the frogs.

Best wishes,

Velua WatchfulBronze

——

15th of Sardonyx, year of the Mountain 612

Dear Diary,

It was not by accident that I forgot to write within you yesterday. My prayers went unanswered, and we were beset by creatures most foul. Upon the morning we found the fire had died down enough for something to draw close. Some horrible catwasp thing landed on Albin’s damaged arm, injecting his hand with a toxic venom. Dum had it smashed within moments of Albin’s screaming, and just like with the frogs and the mosquitos I have collected and cleaned the remains for trophies back home. We had to attend to Albin quickly, Molin saying that with the previous damage along with such a heavy dose of venom, there was no choice in the matter.

I knocked Albin unconscious as Molin and Maluth went to work. Molin knew exactly where to tie the tourniquet so that the blood flow would stop, and Maluth sped along with the medical saw she brought. It was a grisly sight, and not one I hope to see again any time soon.

Twi and Dle carried him for the next leg of the journey until he woke. I didn’t want to risk something sneaking into the wagon and taking him without us even knowing. Maluth’s fire was still working to keep the smaller things at bay, but the deeper into this place we go it seems bigger things are less deterred. My blade tasted the blood of no less than five horrors yesterday, and each was more horrible than the last.

Elbur spoke at the fire yesterday, saying that the land in this area was tainted by a great evil. The first time he speaks and it is to tell us that we are in a hellhole as if we didn’t already know. Then he went on that the hammer is close to the center of the evil. Not close enough to it that we will face anything bigger than a human, but still dangerously close. He warned that if anything happened to him, that our goal was at the ‘Oasis of good in this land of evil.’ Whatever that means. I thought it was a load of shit, we hadn’t lost anyone yet and that meant we weren’t going to. I was foolish.

Just as I was preparing to rest for the night and reach for this very book, some undead monster rushed into the camp, charging through the flames at Maluth. It was the rotting corpse of an elk given motion once more beyond its death. It gored her left arm and part of her side with its horns. Dum pulled Maluth away just as it was about to heft her into the air. That was when I jumped from my bedroll and grabbed my blade. To say it was an easy fight would be as if I were saying my Pa was a kind and gentle man with no avarice in his heart. A total lie.

I truly believe that if it had not been for its own stupidity in rushing through flames, it would have killed one of us. It burned to death as me and the brothers MeltBlaze slashed and smashed it to goo. We would have celebrated, had we not heard more rustling in the bushes. Apparently the undead travel in groups, and we were ill equipped to fight them. So we loaded Maluth and Albin into the wagon, and ran alongside as the horses gave it their all.

We were running till morning, the rotten things seeming to have forgotten about us at some point. I was exhausted and my body was demanding that I find a place to sleep but it would have to wait until we found a good place to rest. We checked on Albin and Maluth only to find the worst of it. Maluth had died during the transit, and turned into one of those things due to her wounds being caused by the elk. We found her…eating Albin. I don’t want to think about it much more.

We spent the next few hours finding ourselves in the depths of the swamp, large ponds and bogs all around us at this point but we managed to find an island to rest upon. We are sleeping in shifts, two awake, three asleep. I just awoke and began this journal entry to get the thoughts out of my mind and heart. So far nothing has approached us. I will not pray to the mountains lest that draw more ire. But I will try to keep my comrades safe.

Sincerely yours,

Velua WatchfulBronze

——

17th of Sardonyx, year of the mountain 612

Elbur is gone. We were walking along the bogs and a Swampy Gulper swallowed him whole. It took an hour for me to drag the thing out of the dirt and cut its fucking head off. By then he had already suffocated. Molin had tried to convince me to leave it be and move on, but I just couldn’t stop myself. I was so angry. I think the swamp is starting to get to me. It’s getting to the others too. I have never seen the brothers fight before, but every little slight gets them at each other’s throats.

I fear that we are going to get lost in our own minds before we find our way out of this swamp. The days are getting harder to track as time goes on, especially since our sleep has been getting more inconsistent. A fire affords us only a few hours before we are beset by something strong enough to resist Maluth’s concoction. I pray that her soul went to a grand place for the gift she has given us. With little sleep, and constant attacks our morale is low. Even Molin has begun to clam up rather than insist upon more stories or lessons.

I no longer care about getting the king’s hammer if it means I get out of here alive. I miss my sisters, and I miss my home. It was a mistake that I ever left the mountain.

Valua WatchfulBronze

——

18th of Sardonyx, year of the Mountain 612

It’s a dungeon. That’s what Elbur meant. It is a good dungeon in this bad place. We are going in. If I die and someone finds this journal, the dungeon is the place where the hammer lies.