The Blackwells see as I do, but Lloth does not wish me to cooperate with them. The Pereghost is missing. The Cult's plan will weaken Asmodeus, and that should if we aid them, no one will challenge us here in the Underdark. Thorton, Nightshade and Gleamsilver are against I imagine. Living so long among the Lord's Alliance Great Cities has made them weak. Lloth's will be done, I shall parley with these scaled ones.

The Cult sent a day-walker, of the scaly variety of course. I received no name, only that I am to refer to him as the Jade Wyrmspeaker. He wishes my aid in finding the Forge of Spells. I will receive its riches, in exchange for its magical item bounty being given to for their work. I agreed. My spies from Candlekeep tell me that some foolish Dwarf named Gundren should know where it is...

Apparently the Cult was more foolish than I thought. Clearly they can barely find the Dragons, let alone control them. The White one has escaped their grasp. No matter, this should work to my benefit as Phandalin and particularly Halia should be distracted by this turn of events.

Iarno is foolish, but a useful one. A bit of gold, promises of more and a fancy staff was enough for him to turn his back on hisnNeverwinter masters, and now Phandalin is no longer an issue. That blind priest and Halia should be kept busy by those bandits running around.

Finally, the Map to the Spell Forge is in my hands! It's amazing what a few goblins can accomplish. Klarg and Blarg are idiots, but at least in this they have succeeded. I allowed them to take over Highthorn. I see no need for the Castle myself. I hear Blarg has named himself King of Cragmaw. So be it, allow him to reign over broken sticks and stones. I shall reign from below.

Glasstaff is dead. Some group known as the Five apparently managed to creep up on him unnoticed and infiltrate his house. Curses! At least they have no idea where I am. I should have known better than trusting a human. I'll talk to the Faceshifters - they will not fail me. And perhaps we can kill 2 Gnomes with one stone.

A lucky chance. A scholar of the Age of Arcanum has stepped into my web. Perhaps he knows how to activate this damnable forge. Some gained, some lost. The scholar got away during one of the undead attacks. And Halia turned up! With some whelp of hers. She is dead now, and the Whelp has sworn himself to me. Oh mighty Queen, how you weave your plots is a wonder to behold!

This door and furnace keep defeating me. No matter. We have time. And if we cannot succeed through there, surely enough goblins and bugbears will be enough to defeat the waves of undead and those disgusting mushrooms. The light of them alone annoys me. Soon my pretty Queen - soon your darkness and webs will cover this entire place!