Scribed by the hand of Zahar Al-Zakariya, Acolyte of the Dawnflower
At Almah’s behest, we set out ahead of the caravan to secure Saranrae’s ruined temple-monastery. Salim is anxious to test his blade, and Almut seems always to hunger for armed conflict, yet I feel more fear than I expected. I wish not to see what has become of the Dawnflower’s once peaceful refuge, but I cannot help but feel near overwhelming curiosity as to what forgotten treasures might be found, despite who or what may be now calling these ruins home. I trust in Saranrae to guide my scimitar as needed, just as I trust in Salim and Almut to guide their own blades with more skill than I will ever possess. Thankfully, I have the gifts of the Healing Flame to see us through our trials.
Oh, how we all loathe those ill-lucked little bastards. Although we fared well enough and defeated them all (even bringing down the fleeing one sure to return with more), Salim was sore affected by their toxins. His normally swift and fluid movements have been greatly dulled, reducing his combat effectiveness to little better than my own.
We cleared out the southernmost chambers, slaughtering a band of vicious baboons who had claimed the area for a nest. Their filth has ruined anything that may have once held value.
Damn those dirty apes!
We have found much defacing of the various bas-reliefs depicting legendary battles between the elemental forces of Flame and Air. It seems that a knowing hand guiding this blasphemy, it not being caused by the feral pugwampis or simple animalistic baboons. Despite my better judgment, I fear I am compelled to learn the identity and disposition of these cursed vandals.
I am veritably seething! As if pugwampis weren’t already the most gods-forsaken ill-lucked creatures to ever walk the sands of this land…they have brought their worship of gnolls into the Dawnflower’s home! We uncovered a nest of them, and their leader, in the chapel. They had hoisted up a macabre chandelier of gnoll skulls where only the pure rays of the Everlight herself should have shone.
It was another hard-fought battle against these vermin, with their King Mockknock availing himself somewhat admirably. His girth and breastplate absorbed many blows that would have rent his minions in twain, while his warhammer rained down much harder than could have been expected from one so small as him, no matter how corpulent he might have been.
Almut has shown himself to be a holy avenger, slaying pugwampis left and right in the name of Saranrae. I never expected to find so much comfort in the presence of such bloodlust. I must learn more of his past! As always, Salim proved to be one with his weapon, as he flashed deaths faster than I could tally them. And all this with his reflexes dulled by toxin! When the sunlight glitters off his blade, I know that I have been blessed in companions for this endeavor. How could they ever wrong me or leave me wanting?
Next, we venture down to the crypts, where the warmth of the Everflame cannot reach…