The moonless night provides almost nothing in the way of ambient light. While there appears to be little in the way of cloud cover, the stars themselves cannot help illuminate the tiny campsite due to the tall and looming trees. Thick with vegetation, they allow only a small glimpse of the sky above to those nestled upon the ground. There are however two other sources of light yet, not that they provide much in the way of visual aid.
The faint glow of Dwalar's burning mansion, surely now little more than a great dying bonfire gives one of very few indications of the direction of travel the seven took following one attack and avoiding another. The other source is provided by a carefully built bed of embers, about which the five sleeping heroes keep close. There are no leaping flames, to avoid being spotted, the embers providing more heat than light as the chill of night settles in. Thandrim sits a little off from the sleeping forms hopefully well hidden amidst two bushes and a tree, the broken-line camoflage pattern of his otherwise simple clothes breaking up his profile. From there he should be able to alert his companions if trouble brews. The monk knows it would not take much to alert them either. No one appears to be sleeping easy this night, and at least one is not even attempting it. A glance of Thandrim's eyes takes to where he last saw Dwalar stalking out into the woods. The dwarf seems quite understandably upset about losing his home and has apparently taken to scouting in the woods to provide even more early warning if something approaches. Though the monk doubts those boomsticks the dwarf favors would provide much in the way of stealth.
Even so with all things considered, the moment gives Thandrim a chance to scribble a little further in his journal. The light color of the parchment and blacker-than-night coal marker he uses giving just enough contrast for him to do it without resulting in a log resembling a seizure.
"Two days since last entry. I am pleased that Lord Maltar agrees that the Elves were not involved in the failed assassination attempt upon him. Though that may be more to do with the history between Lord Aelric and Lord Maltar himself than his natural logic. I can believe the best of him anyway. My friends and I have learned much in these past two days. Even lordling Quinn has learned a great deal more about his father than I believe he ever suspected. Not all of it glorious however, and even some of it troubling. The indications of an attempt to bring a nameless horror back to the world appears to be just the latest in a history of similar attempts. One previous one stopped by Lord Maltar, the dwarf Dwalar and their companions. A heroic tale certainly, were it not for the loss of his lordship's love the elven cleric Falaria. Nor the certainty that the sorcerer Manard is one in the same with the alchemist we know as Algar who appears to be central to attempting to bring that nameless evil about again. Still we shall see what the ancient Lord of the Elves has for us when we deliver Lord Maltar's message to him.
There are other elements of note too. The similar appearance of our still un-named deadite ally to the figure of Talgath, one of those previous heroes. Could they be related? Even so, I do not recall Lord Maltar reacting with much in the way of recognition to him. From the way he was looking at Talgath in that portrait, I know he senses the similarity too and wonders as I do. Even more so, the tale of those heroes states they died except for Dwalar and Lord Maltar. Yet again, we have seen that Manard or a version of him survived. If so perhaps the others did as well, though the dark intentions of Algar, so opposite from his given mission before suggests that if they do still live, they may not be as friendly. I might be willing to test it anyway however, if only to see if Falaria daughter to Lord Aelric is as lovely as her portrait. If so, she is clearly a rival for Rysia's beauty. Still I know well that art can give or take beauty depending on the skills and heart of the artist. Side note, if Algar was once a man of good valor but has been corrupted, it might be possible to redeem his path and hold off any further incursions from those wishing to bring so great an evil into the world indefinitely. I must pursue this possibility further by questioning Dwalar and anyone else I can find who knew Algar when he was Manard. Perhaps re-obtaining one of Algar's communication trinkets might be a positive thing, at the right time and place. Opening dialogue with him will certainly be needed if he is to be saved from himself and whatever has driven him to this path he walks now.
I must admit, while it was a terrible loss to see that well-built mansion burn, there is a positive to it. We have proven that Algar can not only communicate through his eye trinkets, but can track them as well. A good reason to destroy or hide them whenever possible until we are ready to open that dialogue with him. More-over we know that he has obtained the service of the goblins, perhaps all of them. Yet has failed to ensnare the orc tribes. Other denizens I am unsure of. We met and defeated a small band of hobgoblins working with a pair of trolls, in open country no less they had attacked a guarded wagon. An isolated incident perhaps, but I sense that they are either in service to Algar's plans willingly or possibly have even been pushed out of their normal territory by him. Either way presents further danger for travel until we can find a solution. Again, I bear hope that Lord Aelric can shed light upon the situation."
With the end of Thandrim's watch nearing, the journal is closed and repacked with little more noise than the occasional breezes in the trees produce. The monk then sets about preparing to abandon his spot to alert his relief, then it will be his task to tend the dimming embers and bring some additional heat to them before he settles in and joins the others in getting some sleep. A task he will take to with serenity despite the troubles about their world. For the realm of dreams is what you make of it, and he trusts his friends to keep vigilant watch in the realm of the real.