"I want more."
"There is no more."
"I planted you the seeds, coaxed tghose dark, dank plants to grow! There must be more! We need more!"
"We?"
"The jewelled shrine, the sign of the divine. I had to let others see it."
"...How many others?"
"We must dream again!"
Ragna's Log
2nd Malachite, 353
Mayor passed me a tip-off about some stolen jewels. That is, re-stolen jewels. I gather Emerin probably mined them out herself and never bothered to tell Danielle she had them. Shall keep a note of that for the future in case I need any favours.
This on the back of the tools being nicked; we have a thief in the village. Actually as I understand it we have many thieves in the village, what with half the population being ex-cons, but as of this moment we have a thief who has the beard to keep nicking things on my watch. Thus far it's been things like firecaps and half-inching someone else's blanket, petty stuff that can be sorted out with a quick clap behind the ear and a stiff talking-to. These jewels raise the bar, though. If someone nicks jewellery it's because they think they can pass it off somewhere it won't be noticed. Doable in a city but in a small place you need to get it out of town.
I'm a bit leary of watching the damned trading post again. Apparently there was another serious accident besides the idiot falling off the scaffolding that I missed when staking out the damned depot. Fellow grabbed a spare mining pick from the stores and tried to defend himself against something that wasn't there, ended up putting the pick through his leg. We've got another fellow laid up for months now. What in Onol's name is causing people to act like madmen?
5th Malachite, 353
Funny story. Yngwie finally gets the ironworks up and running, smelts those goblets Emerin mandated to get it going. Turns out the human merchants made her a good deal on iron short swords, so the Mayor's gone and barred us from selling said goblets until after the next human caravan to encourage more diverse production. I don't understand this economics business, but apparently that firecap girl Danielle says it'll work. Meanwhile, that madman Fath is wasting all the wood recently bought from the caravan on trying to get some manner of wind farm going. Apparently Danielle's pressuring him not to 'ruin the natural lay of the land', but frankly a sea of mills is rather more an eyesore in my opinion.
Investigated the homes of the accident victims. Found a wineskin in one of them with a bit of liquor left in. Didn't smell like any of the imported stuff. Two of the three accidents so far look to be Zassians, based on the little quartz idols in their belongings. Don't recognise it.
8th Malachite, 353
Ascubis volunteered to test a bit of the mystery drink. Said it tasted a bit weird and had a strong kick, very herbal. Night after, had all sorts of weird dreams. Says he doesn't remember much, except for there being a cavern and maybe some jewels. I'm recommending the Mayor this stuff goes contraband until we figure out what it is and where it's coming from. We don't need some lunatic drink making people see things.
12th Malachite, 353
"And the rain it raineth every day," came the soft song from above the workshops. Captain Ragna frowned as she passed.
"Who goes there?" she called up to the roofs. A lilting, lyrical voice answered from up above.
"Why madonna, but a simple singer,
And her life is but a simple thing. Her
Belly to be full is what she'll desire,
Her heart filled with passion and free of ire."
"Show yourself," demanded the captain. A dwarf swung her legs over the edge of the roof, peered down and grinned.
Her hair was long and greasy, dyed glumcap black save for thick strands dyed bright blue, red and occasionally her natural blonde. A white mask of chalk was painted over her face, eyes and lips highlighted in black pigment. The look was polished off with a dark leather jacket, boots and mismatching threadmoss pants. An iron harmonica rested in one hand.
"I see the shade of a milit'ry dwarf,
Spent a hundred years in a midnight wharf,
Haunted by the past; a well-trodden road,
Her fate thrice cursed by a blood-covered toad."
"Wait," protested Ragna. "How do you know about-"
"Divinity and darkness; equal parts,
They seek vision in drink and not their hearts,
Guide them it will and lead them all astray,
For where the nightmare stops? I cannot say."
"Dreams and darkness? What manner of nonsense is this, fool?" demanded the captain, frustrated by the strange troubadour. "Is this about the contraband? Speak sense!"
"You tarry too long - your duty awaits.
Go; stop a goblin deciding his fate!
The errant-born child prevails with a knife,
I say you - begone! Save the wretch's life!"
Ragna turned at the sound of shouting from the animal cages, then glanced up again. The dwarf had vanished but the shouting continued, so she ran full pelt toward them. She arrived to find Stug being held back by another dwarf as he struggled with a knife to kill the goblin in the cage. Stug elbowed the dwarf in the face and brought the knife up again just in time for Ragna to grab his wrist and twist it until he let go of the blade. Ragna lifted the cretinous dwarf up by the wrist and yelled at him.
"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded. Stug barked his response in halting dwarfish.
"Want. Death."
"I don't care how much you want to kill him! You do not murder an unarmed prisoner!"
"Why?" Stug asked.
"Mercy!" snapped Ragna. "Compassion, honour, justice!" Stug just looked at her as if these were completely unfamiliar terms. He pointed at the goblin in the cage, who appeared to be laughing at some sort of personal joke, repeating his earlier statement.
"Want. Death."
"I told you, it doesn't matter how much you want-" Stug shook his head vigorously.
"He. Want. Death," Stug explained. "Want free." The reasoning dawned upon Ragna, who found herself perplexed by an entirely different question.
"Why?" she asked. Stug seemed to struggle for a word before eventually setting on one.
"Love."