Been flying on the Sadijh since Captain Crilbort and the crew picked me up outside Oojar a few feylfs ago (weeks). My canoe broke, and, curse it, somehow I couldn’t repair the clackety rudder and the self-paddler lost its energy. My path was to go upriver, but upriver is hard when you have to paddle yourself. Harder at 3’4″.

Oh, yeah. Sadijh. It’s big magic, not minors. No balloons, fancy tendrils of powers and a magic crystal in it. I ain’t helping with that. They have me doing comms. It’s ’cause my talents. Also, cause the old comms officer died — I was available. They weren’t. It’s not that I was conscripted, it’s just that I didn’t have a choice.

Wait, here I am filling out my diary talking to myself and I cannay focus enough to stay to the story. I guess that’s why I write. Gotta figure out the best tale for the next campfire. I miss campfires, Mate Pryn told me we can’t have them on Sadijh.

I figure this story’s going to be a big deal.

Riding in Sadijh after defeating some pirates we get called back to work for the Ruling Council. This is when I learn I’m on a formal military ‘xip. Guess I’m an officer now?!

So we’re called back. We have to pick up ‘authorities.’ One is dragonborn (first time I’ve seen ’em!) – Artok, big and beefy. The other is part of Les Remoden Eisha, a studious wizardly type. At least Amos likes books, even if I can’t read his.

We’re to take Artok and Amos to Mirrstone. There’s been a lot of livestock gone missing out there. Enough that the Council is getting involved, but also, only enough that there’s two assigned to this investigation, plus the Sadijh.

That’s both a lot, and a little. On Sadijh we’ve a few officers and not-quite two dozen crew (some work nights and I ain’t getting up at night).

Captain Crilbort is in charge with First Mate Pryn helping. They both gobs. Most of us are gobs. There’s a navigator and a medic/cook too. And I guess, me?!

Master-at-arms Holx has five guard (it was six, but Prix went overboard — I’ll get to that | whoa, I have asides to my asides). They work with three on duty and three off duty. (that’s got to change soon).

Bosun Musi manages the deckhands. There aren’t as many hands on this kind of airxip as their are on the dirigibles or sail boats, because the magic takes care of a lot. It’s great. Almost nice enough I’d crew one.

Cabin chile Fokz is the one of the chilles I deal with. Fokz helps Crilbort. There’s two others, one helping the cook mostly and another that does general service for the rest of the crew.

Let’s get back to the tale. If I’m going to do this diary to help my memory I’m going to need to focus.

So, we pick up Artok and Amos for this investigation. It’s a couple days flight, which is great! Walking would take a feylf. We only encounter one problem during the journey. There’s a storm about halfway through and it’s big enough it opened up a rift. Two elementals try to bust up our ‘xip.

Artok helps us with some aid. That’s great, because I’m a hob that’s sized like a gob.

I’m not here to sound like the hero, but me and Midqh pert-much saved the day. Midqh catapulted a block and tackle at one, used its tail to shield Crilbort. Spells and sundry thrown all over the place.

Both me and Amos made big booms! He does it differently, no powders or tools involved. I’ll figure that out when I can focus. Battle was rough. A few us forgot to latch in during the storm and fight, so we were thrown about quite a bit. Only Prix went over the rail (knocks on chain).

Not to be casual, but when a rift opens and elemental forces attack a ship I’m used to the whole thing going down, but that’s because I’ve only been on balloon boats before — I only crashed once!

We get to town the next day. The crew lands at a field and Captain Crilbort orders me to go with Artok and Amos so I can message the ‘xip if they need rescue. This is a rather smart thing to do, if it didn’t involve me.

Mirrstone is about two dozen buildings, mostly stone. The residents are mostly human. The area seems to be primarily ranches — cattle and sheep. First we talk to Fiendhere, who is like a mayor. He doesn’t know why the herds are disappearing and the town doesn’t have many clues. I overpay for our food and lodging. They have a comfy chair for me to sleep under, which is so much better than the ‘xip’s hammocks. Plus, it’s on ground, so there’s no wobble from the air.

Fiendhere had told us the ranch most impacted was run by Glovin, whose entire herd of oxen is gone. The three of us inspect the area. The house and fields don’t show anything. No tracks, no trails, no signs. It’s baffling. Amos points out that if the herd was magicked away that it would take an immense amount of power and a portal that many would see.

I head into the barn. Something is amiss there. Artok and Amos are looking at stalls while I head up a ladder. I leave a tinkering behind so they can find me. This is smart. I’m a communications officer!

Up in the loft it stanks, rotten and musty. Like mushrooms and fairies (I hear). I call for help and the Two A are behind me, not far at all. We move slowly in this space, me because it’s scary. Them because the roof is low and there’s bales all over.

We round one place and discover why it stank. Glovin is dead. His body has fungus on it and the smell is intense. We all stop, look at each other. Then we look at the body again. Someone will have to inspect it and though I’m short I don’t want that short straw.

Then Glovin’s eye opens.

I need to stop here. That moment put me in a mood, bad one. I’ll write more later.

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In our current Age of Myths campaign I’m playing Xabal, a smaller hobgoblin artificer that uses an eldritch cannon called Midqh. My goal is to be the party notetaker, but with a twist. I’m writing our recaps as if Xabal, a motormouth former Tinkerer is the author.

Other PCs are;
Artok — bronze dragonborn paladin
Amos — elven wizard

and more that we’ll meet soon.

The header image is the ribbon jammer from Dyson Logos.