Made the last leg of the journey into Sandpoint today. I’ll sure miss home. I’ll miss Mum (and her cooking), and Bryce and Lena, of course. And Father. And Uncle Daw, Hunter Guide Him. At least I got to bring Coburn with me – he seems not to miss anything but harassing the sheep, so that’s probably for the best.
I stopped on the hill outside the farm to sketch it before I finally left and made this drawing. That’ll have to do until I see it again.
Sandpoint is just as I imagined it. There are so many buildings, I can’t imagine how people remember what they all are! Daversmill is the biggest place I’ve every been and they only have about six houses, a temple, the smithy, and the trading post. There’s buildings everywhere here. And some of them have little signs on the side showing the streets have got names – they have to name the streets because otherwise they’d get lost in their own town! Coburn and I will have to find a nice place to stay – with some good food!
And what a blessing that I arrive on the same day as the dedication of the town’s new temple! That’s a good omen if I ever heard of one. The mayor and his wife made speeches, and the town alchemist or somesuch put on a show with making butterflies appear out of the air, which was nice. And apparently, We’re not the only newcomers in town, which is just as good, because we don’t want a lot of attention, at least not until it’s for something good and worth being famous of. Of course that might not be so difficult now: right in the middle of the dedication of the temple, a whole horde of goblins decided to make a run on the town! The were setting buildings and stalls alights, killing livestock and dogs – as goblins are wont to do. But there were a good few people there to help out the militia – there’s a woodsman from the mountain folk, an elf I figure is from the Faith, and some old hag which – only it’s a man, so I reckon he’s a warlock? Leastways, he has purple skin.
We all got together and fought off a whole mess of the goblins. The woodsman and I were fighting side by side, and he’s a real warrior – such an honor! It was a terrible fright, let me say that. But uncle Uncle Daw always said – “Bravery is being scared and going on anyway – not being scared is just called being simple”. I even was stabbed by one. That’s my first battle-wound, it is. Sure, there was that boar when I was fifteen, but hunts don’t count, and this was with a real blade. Gods, it hurt. But the Elf fixed me right up. The Faith are always good folk. I’ll have to remember to give her some food or a pair of boots.