The Gilderoy Expedition

by PaulAsaran

Margrave Gilderoy, Date Unknown, w/Notes VIII

From the private logbook of Lord Margrave Gilderoy of Fletcherstown.

Cowards, those zebras. All three of them, cowards! Yes, Gantry is dead. Yes, Gall’s face is so heavyset with bandages I’m not convinced he could lift it for the extra weight. Yes, we all suffered from the same fatal hallucination. I acknowledge all that.

We can’t stop now, for a great many reasons. Don’t they want to know why this happened, and prevent it from happening again? Don’t they want Gantry’s death and Gall’s pain to mean something? If we really want to get shallow with things, what about their pay, which they will certainly forfeit if they abandon the expedition now! There’s also my legacy to consider. I won’t let the name Gilderoy of Fletcherstown go down as belonging to a crackpot. My theories are sound, my ambitions noble.

I will not stop, and I won’t let them stop either!

The crack is wide enough, if barely. I’ve selected three griffons in the team: Grackle, Gestalt, and Gordon. They will join me as we attempt to climb down into the abyss. Leaves will remain behind to manage the others and ensure our anchors up top are secure throughout the climb. We estimate the crack is some 1,200 feet deep, based on some observations made earlier, but that could be off by hundreds. The plan is to only be down for a couple hours, just to see how rough the going is and secure the route with climbing lines. After what happened this morning, I’m taking no chances in regards to safety.

I’ve instructed Leaves to keep a close eye on those zebras. They were pretty vocal about leaving this place, but they can’t be allowed to abandon us. We need them. Leaves’ fire magic will make for a potent deterrent.

Cptn. Decadent Dawn, Notes:

At least one good thing has come from the tiring work of these readings: the purposes and goals of the supposed mutiny to come are now startlingly transparent.

This is the last entry I possess from Gilderoy’s journal, but there are others. Everything else in this freshly organized and entirely undesirable pile of literary detritus appears to be paperwork. Manifests and the like, certainly not of any value regarding the ongoing investigation. I shall ask around, see which of my officers possess the papers that relate what came next in this tale. Let the ever-curious Coxswain have these pages for her own devoted study. Perhaps in her eager, learned and creative review she will uncover some crumb of importance that slipped past my increasingly burdened study.

Blast, now I possess nothing with which to distract from that quiet yet ever-present clanging and damnable itch. I suppose I shall attempt sleep again, though I hold out little hope for Princess Luna’s favor this night.