I awoke this morning and our ship had been in dock for nearly a day. Oh! What a headache I have! Slowly as I began to get up and make feeble attempts to walk about and gather up my belongings without stumbling to the floor in a sprawled heap, I began to recall the events of the past day since I wrote.

I remember rushing to the Spirits Shop and buying a fine bottle of Kegsworth Brandy for the captain. Indeed, by knowledge of imbibing came quite in handy with this purchase, since it is hard to impress sea-faring men with the strength of a liquor they haven't yet tasted. I found to my delight that he enjoyed the Brandy, for when I gave it to him he took a lengthy swig of the stuff and exclaimed, "Why it's a mite bit on the nippy side for me, lad, but arrr, ye've done a good work in acquiring it!" and sauntered off taking several more draughts.

We set off at dusk and began our 10-hour journey around the cape that night. Before bunking down, I was invited to join several off-duty sailors as they told stories of the high seas and gambled with straws. Several of them told the tale of Gargahor, the ancient Sea Snake that was said to be the length of 15 caravels and could crush a full-sail rig in his jaws. Needless to say, this failed to prepare me for a night of peaceful sleep. When, after fitfully sleeping several hours, there was a commotion above deck and a sickly scraping noise that went down the entire hull of the ship, my spirit quavered more than just a little. I decided that I ought to investigate the hoarse shouting and various shiply noises coming from above. Peeking my head out of the hatchway, I could hear snatches of conversation, "It's Gargahor, I tell ya!" "We're a doomed crew for sure!". At hearing these things I nearly soiled my bedtime garb. Then I awoke to the real commotion, and discovered to my delight that it had all been a bad dream and the real excitement was about a pair of Ylluvannas, sighted not a quarter of a league off the starboard bow.

Ylluvannas are a highly rare sight in these waters and especially this close to shore. They are harbingers of good luck and glittering fortune. I made my way to the upper deck and took a look through the First Mate's spyglass, and was delighted to see the dual spouts of one of the Ylluvannas shoot a gay geyser of sparkling sea water high into the night sky. The sailors I was with were so delighted with the sight that they broke open the ships only two kegs of Bilgewater Broth, a potent sea-grog spirit that will have you on the floor launching your own spout into the air within minutes of taking a swig. Pouring me a three-round shot of this frothy concoction, the sailors insisted that I celebrate with them. I complied, and now am writing to you, journal, with the last remaining tattered bits of my mind, most of which was blown out of my head by the first drop of Bilgewater Broth that hit my poor, scarred tongue. I am going ashore to find a doctor now. You needn't look for a new entry now for a while until I've had time to recuperate and explore Dumarken further than the nearest lavatory.

Hollas, March 3rd- no, March 4th, Twelfth Year of Enru

Today is my first entry, journal. I have packed up what few belongings I think I shall require, and I have booked passage to the mainland on a small sailing vessel. There is a warm breeze in the air, Spring is fast approaching. I do not feel much right now. I know that in only a few short hours I will board my ship, and leave my simple home here on the island for what may be the last time. Twilldenshire has been a good place to grow up, far removed from the outside world, or is that perhaps a curse of island living? I have been restless these past 6 months with wonderings of what the world outside has to offer. And now that I have made the decision to leave, I feel a certain peace. But there is no hint of real sorrow, or fear, just a tiny twinge of excitement at seeing something new.

I have been to the mainland before, and found it fascinating with its bazaars, cobblestone streets, and oddly-shaped houses. The mainland port which I am speaking of journal is, of course, Dumarken. I expect I shall reach the town overnight, seeing as we must first sail westward around the cape to access it. Ah! I just remembered, I promised a bottle of brandy to the captain for allowing me passage, I must go to the Spirits Shop and fetch some.

- Hollas, March 2nd, Twelfth Year of Enru