Ship's Log, Fosterling, Mosquito-class shuttle

Date: On or about five months after yearspawn, 5165 Olven Calender; 27 Kab, Year of the Toad in local reckoning.

Position: Aboard Tranquil Knight, On route to Kal-Tor, forbiddenspace (outer sphere)

Ship's condition: All fast and well supplied

I have been somewhat remiss in keeping this log, but Fosterling has not moved from her perch abaft the great ballista in many days. I have some few topics to rhapsodize about, but perhaps I should begin, well, at the beginning. We came into what the locals style “the lightning roids” under power, guided by a secretive Yuan-Ti. His services were produced by the inducement of one of the limpid crystal wands with negative energy affinity. We undoubtedly overpaid, but they were looted, and I have little enough use for the things personally.

The Lightning Emporer's fortress is a large asteroid, almost entirely mined out, and covered with strange brass and iron towers apart from a pair of massive doors. These doors conceal a massive hangar and drydock, behind which lies a labyrinthine maze of tunnels and rooms, one of which is an odd sort of prison where our quarry is being held apparently. The towers seem to somehow harness electrical impulses, and transmit these impulses one to another at seemingly random intervals. Many of the smaller asteroids have similar structures, though hardly of the same size or frequency, leading me to believe they are part of some sort of magical defense.

I had been somewhat less than fully engaged in this endeavor to date, but upon learning that the poor girl is to be sold into a sort of slavery, I have now committed myself, and thus my ship and crew. I note that the people of Brindol have allowed these “seven dread lords” to remain in power very close to their controlled area, and given the size of their fleet there can be little doubt that some arrangement must exist. Regardless of that arrangement, or potentially in spite of it, it seems that the natives fully intend to go through with the plan. Perhaps they feel as I do, that the girl should have the right to choose amongst her own suitors, or perhaps they just wish to gain favor with her father (who is apparently the master of a major shipyard).

The extent of the wrighting capacity of Arc Station still staggers me, doubly so now that I have learned that the ships are not being sold to Kal-Tor, I wonder where all that production is mothballed. There could be quite a fleet hiding somewhere unless I miss my guess. Perhaps that is how they turned back the Imperial Navy, but that many trained crews would take time to train to the level where they could effectively battle a naval assault group. I suppose that is why almost the entire surface of the planet is held off limits.

Regardless, the fact is that there are precious few ships present here, and almost all of them seem to belong to the lords. This lack of transportation has caused the locals to construct long bridges of massive cabling between each respective rock. The constant presence of electrical discharges against the tenebrous backdrop of the void lends the webway of bridges an aesthetically pleasing aspect, but one which I may have disturbed for a time.

In an effort to gain some useful intelligence, I had intended to loan a magical device which creates an illusion to greatly enhance any personal disguise to whomever volunteered to scout the point of ambush. Unfortunately, while the disguise worked well enough, the specific nature of the Brindolite parasite seems to preclude effective stealth. Eventually, Kalahari gave up on the concept of covert reconnoiter in favor of the other monk heading over in disguise.

I feel I must pause here for a moment to explain that the locals she was to impersonate are known as fanatics, and tend to wear heavy bands of brass and iron on each limb, along with heavy metal belts, cloths to cover their loins, and precious little else apart from copper jewelry pierced into their flesh at various points. I turned aside after handing the hat of disguise to her. I do not know what I was thinking; elves are seldom puritanical, and she certainly has a lovely form. Part of me certainly wanted to observe her loveliness, even though I am well aware that it would have been merely a glamour, but after some consideration, I have concluded that what my grandfather once told me is the absolute truth. There are some things which must only be taken when offered

None of that prevented me from viewing from the distance, however, because I did not wish to risk that she be overwhelmed and we unable to assist. As it turns out, there was a significant risk which resulted from her instigating a battle between guards on either side of one of the larger bridges (apparently between two rival territories). Things continued to escalate until, when the dragon arrived, I felt that the danger level had reached sufficient pitch to intervene. Aragog teleported a number of us behind the guards from the rival faction, and we dispatched them with some limited difficulty. A surprising number of them were spellcasters, and all were well armed warriors. Later we were to find that they were present to guard a massive bomb composed largely of blasting powder and military oil. We discovered this only as a result of my using the mithril chime to open their bunker. What I had taken for a fairly normal chime of opening is clearly not, as not only did it open the door, and all the containers within, it also unfastened belts, armors, and even simple clothing for a massive area all around it. It's power was so complete that it was able to unbind the very bridge cables which held our asteroid to the rest of the webway!

Needless to say, the route by which our target was to travel will no longer be in use, so we have all retired to Knight to consider alternate plans. I fear our only remaining option will be a raid against the fortress itself. Fortunately, in an effort to procure plantlife for Knight's garden, we rescued a so called “fanatic” who is anything but. This disgruntled gardener not only procured for us an exceptional supply of seeds, fertilizer, and good earth, but also seems to know somewhat about the internal workings of the fortress. It is my hope that he will know something which can aid us in evacuating the poor girl to safety without being captured ourselves in the process. Assuming that I am ever able to update this log again, I will outline the events of that potentially fateful raid forth with.