Preamble: These are the collected thoughts and stories of Cora'sol Tyltlarn, the Mistress of Memory, about the quest into the Tomb of the Lizard King and the aftermath.
Sitting here in the Swallow's Rest, I have plenty of time to reflect on all that we have been through recently, and all we have yet to accomplish. It is nice to be able to relax for a time. To put aside further quests and worries for a moment and just enjoy being alive. Now that Sacatha is dead, and his vampire brood exterminated, the oppressive gloom that seemed to foreshadow this place has lifted. I see the townsfolk and workmen here in the tavern listening to the stories the bards are weaving... about us. I meet curious eyes with calm acceptance, and although I can understand the common tongue fairly proficiently now, I still prefer to remain silent. I listen, and observe, and I see happiness. Relief. Joy.
I sip my favorite tea and smile as I see Fife, Tobias, Osman, Ishmael, and KelLyn laughing and chatting boisterously over the latest round of their favorite dark ale. Lan is sitting with them, though her attentions are drawn, yet again, to her shiny orb. Shalev is still deeply lost in thought, pouring no doubt over whatever it was that he and his goddess discussed while they were face to face. He has turned completely inward since our return to the count and the finalization of the trade routes he works so tirelessly to create. Amit lays lazily at his feet, gnawing contentedly on a large bone of some animal that the cook here graciously provided him. He still bears faint scarring along his face, but remains inseparable from and fiercely loyal to his friend. Their companionship is a thing of interest to me, as I have heard and read hints that rangers and druids alike have been known to also be able to foster a kinship between animals. Perhaps someday in the future I will be able to find such a friendship?
I see a haunted look in Shalev's eyes, and I worry about him. He has changed noticeably more than any of the other party members have over the course of this journey. He carries the weight of his responsibilities heavily, and he considers the well-being of the party as a whole one of those tasks. He has appointed himself quartermaster of the company, and oversees our supplies like a hawk. I doubt the rest of the party pays much attention to where our next meal comes from, and they have Shalev primarily to thank for that.
I have tried to place the events of this adventure in proper order, if only for my own personal recollections. I have also asked to acquire a copy of the maps that Osman so diligently crafted, and will include those with this collection as soon as he provides them to me. Perhaps, should some adventurer find these logs and notes far in the future, they might go so far to be detailed enough to provide insight and aid.
We still have much to do, and many more quests to complete. The restoration of the sylvan sapling in that cursed elven city. The location of the healing chalice and table, and the extermination of the regenerating orcs. The retrieval of Shalev's sword Crawlsargot, lost in the desert. The war with the drow elves that constantly threatens the surface world.
Much to do indeed. But for now? For today, and for this moment, I will enjoy my tea. I will revel in the connection I have with my god and goddess, and I will continue to be.