Welcome to the Realmwriter journals

Frustration seems to be the flavor of the day. Each new batch I’ve tried has been close – so tantalizingly close – but something’s always off. It’s like chasing a melody you can’t quite remember, one that dances just beyond reach.

The ale experiments at the Mystic Mug have stirred up quite the buzz in Crosshaven. Each new brew seems to be a topic of debate among the regulars – some are hits, others… not so much.

The Mystic Mug was its usual self as dusk settled – a hub of chatter and clinking mugs. Old Tom, perched at his favorite corner, was reeling in a crowd with his outlandish farming stories.

The weight of self-doubt is often overpowering, today was no exception. I’ve been playing the crash back in my head analyzing every detail. I knew I wasn’t solely at fault, but that didn’t stop me from feeling it was.

AI’s constant buzzing in the neighbouring room has been keeping me up. Trying to sleep has been difficult with the events of today repeating in my head. So, I’ve decided to jot down my thoughts on this tablet.

Another day in Farout, But we’re almost done. The garage is a mess of tools and the machines are never quiet, all humming with a sense of purpose. It's a well-oiled symphony that I've grown to love and respect, even as I tinker with it daily.

The night envelops the Sovereign Gale in a cloak of darkness so thick it seems to swallow sound itself. We sail under a moonless sky, and what has unfolded since dusk has been nothing short of a living nightmare.

There is a grey light spilling through onto the table and ledger today, the engine below gives a rhythmic hum but if not for that, it would be silent around us. Even the wind is mute. While I would normally pen the coordinates of our location into the logbook opposite, it is blank.

The first light of dawn broke over Bastion’s port, a palette of soft oranges and pinks spreading across the sky, as if to calm the black sea.

Cher journal, where do I start? You see. I have grievously failed in upholding my sacred duties as a sommelier in training these past days.

I awoke well before dawn in preparation for my duties as Gabriel’s tour guide, donning my workwear with reluctant resignation. Though our previous encounters had become…charged in an unseemly way,

Today began much like any other here at Château d’Ambre – I awoke before dawn to the fragrance of lavender on the warm breeze, slipped into my uniform, and made my walk to the vineyards.