Much of this log book was badly damaged by decay and moisture over the time it sat within the captain’s quarters on the Tears of Grog. The following pages are those that were readable and of some interest to the party. They appear to be dated around four years ago.
Cursed I must be, to have found myself not once, but twice on this accursed island. I’ve had my men scout about with all due care and there is no doubt this is the Shiv. What must I have done to deserve such a fate? I’m certain this place will be my doom, but with any luck and the fortune of the gods, I’m determined that it will not be the doom of my crew. All of them have proved brave and true and if I were not sure I was cursed already, I would curse my own self for bringing them here.
This is followed by about a week’s worth of entries detailing mainly provisions, the rationing of food among the crew, work to determine what, if anything, could be salvaged from the wreckage to affect some means of escape from the island. One week after the first entry of interest is this -
The bosun sees no way to repair the massive damage to the hull. The Tears of Grog will never sail again. I have sent two of our strongest and bravest to try and seek the light house and see if we can’t fashion a signal to effect a rescue, but even with all the warnings I’ve given them to go quietly and quickly with all due diligence, and with the heathen blessings laid on them by Dramanshipur, the witch priest of our crew, I fear for them. If the Thrunefangs should find them – perhaps it would be better if they should have stayed here and we all starve or be taken by the winged beast. I’m sure I’ve heard the beat of it’s wings nearer over the last few nights. To have seen it and lived once before feels me with dread for what is surely to come.
And, two days after that entry -
No sign or signal from the men sent to find the lighthouse. Some of the men have seen the flying red hellbeast now as they stood watch in the night. When they told me I forced myself to hide my fear from them – not for what I am sure now is only a matter of time for my own demise, but for the fear that it will snatch one of them up and they will see the horror that I saw when I was here before so long ago. I have decided to confess my knowledge, such as there is, of the beast, to Dramanshipur. Though I do not share his faith in the gods of his people and though many of my crew were suspicious of him because of his strange ways, he has proved himself true more than once and perhaps there is something – anything – he can do to protect us.
The final entry in the log is from the following day.
Dramanshipur offered little hope, but did suggest a ritual that might help ward off any evil – and if the flying red devil of Smuggler’s Shiv and the Thrunefang be not the embodiment of evil, then I shall never know what is. It must be done in the night under the open sky, which fills me with dread, but what other option is open to us? The crew fear the jungle now as well as the sea, and rightly so. The young deckhand Paraddios went just into the treeline to search for fruit or other edibles. Alain was just behind him, but lost sight. Alain reported hearing a terrible noise ahead and the brush shaking. He ran forward to aid his crewmate and upon clearing the brush, found him dead. Not just dead, but dessicated, drained of every drop of blood while above there was the sound of leathery wings beating the air and moving away. The Devil of Smuggler’s Shiv has finally taken one of us. Alain returned with the body and we are all agreed to perform the ceremony tonight. Perhaps there is some hope there, but I hold little of it. I must pretend to hope, though, for the sake of what crew I have left. There is still no word or sign from those sent to signal passing ships. The ghostlights in the surf come closer and behave more strangely every night. I pray only to Gozreh and whatever gods may listen that when my time comes, the curse of this place does not take me and that I rest in silence for all eternity rather than return as some grisly thing with faded memories of what once I was.