A drawing of me by my companion Sarah. I doubt she'll draw her self as shes loath to stare at a mirror for to long. I'd comment on her looks but I know she'd slap me.

Part 1; Journey to the Blessed Lands Published the 53rd of Falling Sun 1233 Imperial Era in The Voltonese Gentleman's Weekly.

This adventure started in Hooksbay when my companion Sarah and I received a letter bound in gold twine bearing the seal of the Blessed Land. I didn't read it the first day having spent the majority of it partaking in the many delights Hooksbay excels in. For those less traveled that meant I was absolutely drunk out of my wits. I had Sarah read it to me apparently. When I woke up the next morning (afternoon) to find her packing our bags I was confused. As it turned out we'd been given an invitation to write about the Blessed Land in my journal. It was a rare thing. I was pleased, Sarah wasn't. As she put it the Blessed Land was a kingdom wide cult who worshiped the enigmatic "Goddess". Despite her protests we where soon off to Melton where the Goddess kept one of her few embassies.

Our journey to the embassy was uneventful sans the tales of a rowdy ship hand but those stories can't be printed for multiple reasons, reasons which can't be printed either! Hooks Bay as you may know is famous for its bureaucracy. Its known around as the meeting place of The Islands.  It took us a while to find Blessed Lands embassy but after several embarrassing encounters we managed to locate it. It looked no different then any building in the town, mostly wood, its double doors bared the symbol of a woman's profile in a crescent moon. Two guards in iron breast plates welding flintlock rifles stood at the door. We showed them our letter, one read it, and we where let in.

The buildings inside was a testament to simplicity. The walls where painted white and nearly every room had a only a few things in it. The decor, which I'd come to learn was pretty standard Blessed Land , usually consisted of a table in the middle of the room with drawers or smaller tables in either corner. Every room bore the goddesses moon and face symbol above the doors. "The Goddess is the gate way to all things. So its fitting her image be put above all doors!" our guide Harj would later tell us.

We spoke with the ambassador who seamed a finicky and and a bit nervous. He read our letter and told us that he expected our arrival even if we where late (only by a day mind you). This strict adherence to a 'to the letter' style of living was my first taste of the Blessed Lands peoples social moores. It stemmed from... We'll get to that. Either way he educated us on our up coming trip. In a weeks time a party of guides (secret police) would arrive. We'd take a schooner owned by a captain of the Blessed Land to the Port of The Goddess. Our bags would be checked and there was a long list of things we couldn't bring with us, weapons of any sort, arcane instruments of any source, food and drink (which we'd be provided), and a collection of strange specifics, no animals, art, religious iconography or text of any kind, and much to my chagrin alcohol or other liveries. Sarah, who was woe not to have her alchemical supplies with her at any time was clearly uncomfortable with this. But she'd never been to this strange land and despite her discomfort I think she was as curious as I.

A few days passed and the 'guides' arrived sooner then expected. Sarah tried to sneak several potions passed me but my watchful (lucky) eye caught her and managed to convince her not to pack them.

"A cult" she said to me. "There all a cult and they'll sacrifice us to there damned goddess the second we step out line." I knew she meant me when she said we. I couldn't blame her, I had a certain penchant for... tomfoolery, yes, tomfoolery that sounds nice. After what can best be described as a disagreement where in things and harsh words where tossed in my direction we went to meet our guides.

There where three guides in total, a tall bulky man named Ard, a skinnier but still fit man named Murv, and a chubby older gentlemen by the name of Harj. Ard and Murv had the look of soldiers about them, the double barreled pistols and curved short swords they wore about the waists of there white tunics added to my assumption that they where fighting men. Harj how ever had the body of a priest and the demeanor of some one completely certain they where right. I'd go so far to call him a zealot but never to his face as the pistoled men jumped at his every word. I figured they feared reprisal from Harj superiors as the other two men seamed completely capable of killing him ten times over before he could gasp a "Praise the Goddess!"

After they searched our belongings and made sure we weren't trying to smuggle any contraband into there country they took us to a small schooner called The Breath of The Goddess. It was to my surprise not piloted by natives of the blessed land but mostly people from the local islands. The captain Rusk, the quarter mistress Gella, and our three guides where the only Blessed Landers aboard. I asked Harj about it and he told me the the foreign sailors where chosen so that the Blessed Landers "Didn't have to suffer leaving the holy land."

We arrived at the Port of the Goddess, the only public port in the enter Blessed Land a little under a week after we left from Hooksbay. The trip was pleasant enough even though we weren't allowed to speak with the Quarter Master or the captain. I spent most of my time helping the sailors in what ever way my old body could. Once a sailor always a sailor they say. Sarah spent her time winning at Fanora. By the end of the trip none of the sailors would talk to her much less play her.

The port first seamed to be no different then any of the countless others I've been to. It was busy with longshoremen hoisting cargo on and off ships. Here is where the first major difference, none of the longshoremen where native. Harj told me it was "To keep people from having to interact with non believers." He spent an hour or so showing us the docks. Other then the longshoremen nothing stuck out as strange.

Soon we left the docks and where taken to a gateway. A wall separated this district of the city from the rest and Harj told us there was only one gate to travel through which had a the same crescent moon symbol hanging above it as the doors back at the embassy. I noticed there where canons on the wall, not only facing outward to the ocean but inward towards the city as well. I'd learn most things in the Blessed Land where built to keep the people in as much as foreigners out. Harj showed our papers to the gate guards who carried the same curved swords as the two secret police that accompanied us. They're called Crescent Blades and are used in a martial art taught to the soldiers. Harj said he'd set up a demonstration for us when we reached the Holy City.

The rest of the city was unlike any other place I'd ever been to. Every other city I travelled too was in a state of constant repair. The streets where filled with animals and children running equally wild. Buildings where collapsing and new ones where being raised. But here in the inner parts of the Port of the Goddess things where almost sterile. All the buildings where brick and painted white. A few had splashes of blue or red paint. There where few people on the street and those who where marched with intent. There where no drunken thugs hanging out in dark alley ways. There where no men and women courting each other at market stalls. In fact I saw no markets at all, as it turns out food and other necessities had to be requested.


Harj led us around the city for a bit showing us diff rent buildings, apartment complexes, warehouses that stored goods, taverns where people congregated in there free time, and the like. As we walked from one warehouse to another we heard a loud female scream followed by a the recognizable bang of a gun shot. Harj rushed us away from the area.  Later he'd tell us that it was some ones whale oil lamp exploding. We both knew he was lying.

When the gun shot incident settled down Harj took us to see an average Blessed Lander family. They lived in the top story of an apartment complex, the inside of which was as minimally decorated as the outside. The family seamed normal. There was a father Jerg, a mother Rilda and a son Raff. All of them had the dark hair and light skin of a Blessed Lander. The apartment was decorated similar to the embassy, with little furniture, a table in the middle with a oil lamp sitting on it, a the Goddesses sigal. There was the door to another room, the parents bed chambers. A cot was rolled up in the corner where I assumed Raff slept. I'd studied Blessed Lander economics before a it began to dawn on me one of there biggest imports was wood since most of the natural forests had been long since cut down. This explained the lack of furniture.

We ate dinner with the family, which was a nice lamb steak with a side dish of mashed potatoes. For desert we each had a hard candy stick that tasted like cinnamon. The Blessed Lands soil was for the most part rocky and not great for maintaining large live stock like cows or ox. Sheep and lamb where common as they could be moved from grassy knoll to grassy knoll with out much difficulty. Potatoes supplemented most meals as they grew decently in the rocky soil.

As we ate the family told us how much they loved the goddess, how they thanked her for every thing they had. It was fanatical. They seamed to have a fear of the outside world which was no doubt instilled in them at an early age. They also seamed afraid of Harj, as they talked they would glance over to him to make sure he approved what they where saying. After dinner the son told us a fable that I feel illustrates a good bit of Blessed Lander Nature...

"Along time ago there where three sheep in a pen. One day the first sheep decided to go where he'd never been. He walked over to the fence and slipped under, but a few hands away he slipped in mud and ran home crying louder then thunder.

Not to long ago there where three sheep in a pen. One day the second sheep decided to go where he'd never been. He walked over to the fence and jumped it, but a dred away he got caught in thorns and ran home throwing a fit.

Yesterday there where three sheep in a pen. One day the third sheep decided to go where he'd never been. He walked over to the fence and went around, but a legot away he wandered into a wolves hunting ground."

The moral of the story, I was told, is never to leave the area your gracious herder has fenced in for you.

---

More to Come Soon, We meet travel to the Holy City and meet the Goddess.