Captain’s Log: 31 Harvestmere 930
It has become apparent that the daily workings and travel aboard a ship demand a travel log, and as we intend to spend quite a bit of time on The Tidehammer we must comport ourselves as true mariners.
After escaping from the creeping menace of the blighted ship we treated ourselves and our crew to a feast of sorts, at least the best that we could provide. Unfortunately Dr. Sun and myself were unable to fully enjoy ourselves as we went below to care for the stricken Gilmont as best we could. Seeing no alternative we were forced to amputate his infected arm, even though we both feared it was too late. While Fif watched the stairway and the dashing Talia de Castille distracted the crew with a competition of story-telling we went to work. I must comment that Sun handled himself as a true professional, working with sure hands, a steady eye, and an iron façade, far better than myself in fact. Unfortunately our actions were for naught; Gilmont still succumbed to the corruption that had infected him and Sun was forced to dispatch him from this world as many of us were occupied with a fierce squall that had blown up.
Running before the storm brought us closer to Highever, an ominous prospect, but also inflicted some severe damage on our vessel, costing us some supplies and some of the merchandise we carried for the Kirkwall dockmaster Malyndrin. It was in this sorry state that we limped into the harbor of Highever, a city that had once been my home but was in truth now as alien as any of the cities in the Free Marches. We had scarcely secured ourselves when a company of guards accompanying a city official boarded us and blatantly tried to poach our crew off of our very deck, promising them riches and glory in the Faran Guard.
Apparently the city had its own share of troubles outside of the blight, mainly being a group of renegades called The Arimathros, rebels bent on disposing the traitor Quentyn Howle. Being in disguise, in order to avoid any of the traitors’ forces that would recognize me, I was unable to confront the recruiter directly. However, due to “captain “ Sun and Fif’s arguments as well as the close bond we all shared on the ship we only lost a couple of minor sailors; but above all else I was able to spot and recognize the Commander, Devlin Cooseland, the last friendly face I saw in Fereldan and a true man to the Carroways.
Seeing him reminded me of my last days in my homeland, when he and the mage Celanawe had taken me to a secluded area for “training,” but in reality to protect a younger and stupider Stefan from the Arl’s assassins. After the failed attempt on our lives and Cooseland’s impressive display of swordsmanship that saved us all I was hustled to a hidden ship and spirited away to the Free Marches. Now that we have returned my companions have agreed to help me in my search for missing family, I am thankful for such friends and only hope our search proves fruitful in the morrow, as well that my resolve stands firm to pursue the true enemy of men.