The cold lingers here, but not like in the mountains. It is a damp cold that seeps into clothing that never seems to ever dry completely; wet from the coastline and the low marshy ground. Leilon isn't like Phandalin, for even in the midst of battle there was shelter of some sort, even during a dragon attack, but not so here. The buildings are ruins; unstable and decrepit, and I found out that the Keep that Lord Neverember promised is nothing but ruins too, one of many scattered about the landscape.
It angers me that he made promises that could not be kept. He promised the use of the Keep as a base of operations while we were in the area in exchange for us protecting the people here. There is no Keep, but Idris and Siax will not abandon the people they now see struggling. A man like Neverember would have known that when he sent us here, banked on it even, for he knows Idris's family and how he would have been brought up. His promise of help to defeat the Talos cult had best be more solid than his other promises.
His contact here, Effie, while skilled with the sword is cut of the same cloth as her master. Clever words and smiles, a pretty face for her audience. Her behaviour is giddy like a child with a new toy and I think we are that toy or the means for her to access it. People like her. Idris and Siax like her, but I have seen many of her kind in towns on my travels, and I do not like her ways. Poisoned mead; sweet to go down, but will lead to your downfall. I can see her thinking little on the devastation she might bring, skipping onwards with eyes only for the next shiny thing to captivate her. I saw it at the tower, as she laughed and toyed with Idris like someone playing with a particularly stupid pet while he was suffering from the ailment of the mind. It shocked me that Siax seemed to be fine with it. My anger, something I have been feeling more lately, was strong enough that I could not find the words, and by the time I did she had moved on, bored, to delve instead into the magician's tower further.
Everything about that Tower was a trap. I warned them it was foolhardy for us to attempt to investigate it further, as none of us are spellcasters of the sort that might understand the goings on there, but I was outvoted. I need Idris and Siax for the coming times, and so I was forced to set aside my misgivings and move in to ensure they survived.
I worry about the effectiveness of our group now. Siax's skills with the bow are keen, but in that tower I saw a different side to him, one where his determination was turned more towards the curiosity over the building, over links to his guild, rather than our task. Idris's curiosity too saw him fall foul in that first trap, rendered barely thinking and with less attention span than a common hound, but even before then I saw how Lord Neverember's 'contact' was influencing him with her behaviour. Not consciously perhaps, but Idris has always been easily led, and his curiosity has never needed much prodding to be full-fledged. And Arya, who joined us at the same time as Effie, seems entirely driven by her curiosity.
With Zenari gone and Falcon helping the town, there was no one but myself that seemed to focus on the practical trajectory of our group. Leilon had not been our goal, not really. Lord Neverember changed that, and as I watched them poke and prod at different things in that tower, intrigued and curious for no practical purpose that would advance our cause, I had to consider if I was better focusing my attention on finding a way to contact the Dead Hand without them. The Dead Hand at least are actively working for the Three's benefit, not trying to find ancient elven secrets in a ruined town that held little strategic value.
My time is slowly ticking down. Each night I awaken from, I am lesser than before. I must do something to at least advance the Three's plans, even if I will not survive to see them accomplished.
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Next entry: Journal entry 2_06 - Weary