Day 4, Illander's Diary

Dearest Whomever,

I never thought I'd be so glad to see the inside of this wretched bathysphere. The attack on the lizardmen's compound was an utter failure, though we did manage to save Ashleigh and Sadush (not that I heard any thanks from either of them).

Most of the halflings we brought with us, after barely convincing them to fight, fell in battle. I am certain I will never forgive myself for not protecting them better. To make matters worse, Laird nearly fell twice. I did everything I could, but in the end I couldn't do much.

I suck.

If we are the chosen ones then why can't we do anything right? Are we supposed to learn something from all of this? What are we chosen for?

The strangest thing of all is that at our darkest hour a lizardman sorceror of some sort let us go. He had a strange amulet around his neck which I could tell to be of infernal origin. we couldn't speak to him because none of us can speak Draconic, but he seemed to be the same age as us. Are there chosen ones for the side of evil?

To do over the coming days: find out who this lizard sorceror is, translate the Draconic runes on the tablets into common, find out what purpose our presence on the island serves, nurse Laird back to health.

Also, write Erevan a letter about Ashleigh. I wonder how Iagon is faring with the merpeople. Better than I am here, hopefully.

A new poem:

The cold, cold touch
of death
you wear
like a cloak around you
is beautiful
when your hair is blowing in the wind.
It becomes you.
But do not wear it long for
you are chosen
hand picked for great deeds,
by elves and humans alike.
Your people.
And yet not your people.
You are alone.
And yet not alone.