Travel Journal, Seventeenth of Oculum, Year 988 of the New Myriad Era
Despite being one of the few lucky souls who retained sanity after last night—and politely declining Jay’s enthusiastically brewed “Elixir of the End Times” (coffee dumped straight into boiling water like he was trying to summon the apocalypse)—we continued north.
We had no fixed destination, just the urge to keep our feet moving and our hearts far from anything resembling bureaucracy, civic duty, or local beer. The road—long, dusty—offered more sweat than comfort, more silence than music… but also the chance to see the world through fresh eyes with every step.
To avoid relying solely on the universe’s good will (which, according to Jay, “is a scatterbrained lady with a thing for cats and chaos”), we started taking small jobs in the villages we passed. Nothing grand—just enough coin, hot food, and occasionally stories weird enough to be worth writing down.
Here are some personal notes from the last few days, in case we need good memories later or explanations for local authorities:
Day 1 — The Goats Who Hated Fences Called to fix a fence keeping chickens safe from wild goats. Oddly, the goats seemed to have a personal vendetta against structured wood. Su Mei tried calming them with an ancient meditative practice. Two goats entered deep contemplation. The third bit her leg. Jay treated the wound with a resigned smile, like he’d seen it coming. Fence is standing… for now.
Day 2 — Sheep With Aerial Aspirations Three sheep escaped believing they were birds. We didn’t question why. One climbed a tree. Layla spent two hours talking it down. Most confusing part: the sheep understood. Jay praised her—looking equally proud of Layla and the sheep. I didn’t dare ask which one he admired more.
Day 3 — Sand and Ghosts of Fireworks Past Beach cleanup. Village hired us to remove leftover New Year’s fireworks… from seven months ago. Su Mei was enchanted by the firework fragments, saying “the soul of colorful explosions lingers in the air.” On a distant dune I found a perfectly preserved sand sculpture of a duck. Jay stared at it for long minutes. We’re still not sure if it was art or a magical trap. We moved on, but he still mentions the duck at dusk.
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Day 4 — The Discordant Boar Asked to deal with a giant boar terrorizing the area. Jay tracked it easily. Su Mei tried luring it with fruit and “forest energy channeling” moves. Layla challenged it to straight combat—which seemed… unwise. They fought for long minutes until the warrior triumphed. Then she ate half the animal herself, claiming “it was a matter of honor.” Su Mei looked genuinely impressed. Jay just muttered: “Another normal day.”
Day 5 — Village Feast Invited to help with a local banquet. Jay handled meats with near-religious precision. I was on herbs—the kitchen smelled divine, and for a moment everything felt peaceful. Until Layla and Su Mei started a contest to see who could chop vegetables fastest. Result: veggies on the ceiling, a knife in the door, spontaneous applause from villagers. I was applauded for my “exemplary emotional control.” Thought it was sarcasm. Everyone seemed sincere.
Day 6 — Cat on the Roof Small rescue: cat stuck on a roof. Layla tried climbing—slipped before the second step. Su Mei tried “spiritual dialogue.” Cat bit her hand. Jay said a short prayer—maybe for the cat, maybe for us. I climbed calmly, talked to the animal, brought it down. Owner gave me cake as thanks. Saved a slice for Layla, who was still nursing wounded pride.
Day 7 — Literary Reflections Jay finished reading the book Amy gave him: Intermediate Guide to Surviving and Coexisting with Problematic Companions. Since then he carries it like a sacred grimoire. Underlines passages with suspicious intensity. Frequently. Especially after any conversation with Layla and Su Mei.
We’re dirty, tired, road dust layered thick on our cloaks. But I think I’ve finally found companions I can trust—ones who always guarantee laughter, and even the small disasters taste like happy memories.
As every journey worth taking should.
— Nessa Elunw?, Holy Cleric of Malkut
Additional note from Su Mei. This one would like to clarify that she is not dirty. Tired, yes—the world is vast and paths long. The cloak may have a little dust, yes—hard to avoid when living in communion with the earth. But this one bathes frequently, in streams and lakes we find along the way. The water is fresh, the fish are curious, and the trees provide very gentle shade.
This one always invites companions to these moments of purification. Nessa sometimes smiles and pretends not to hear. Layla says she prefers “war baths,” whatever that means. And Jay… well, Jay seems to believe he’ll dissolve if he enters running water.
This one continues inviting.
Vānu’kai (With the mountain winds, I walk with you).
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