Dear Journal:
If I may digress for a moment, I have a couple of grievances against this city.
First, those that cater to the affluent members of this society are arrogant and flat-out rude. Why, a fruit vender had the nerve to call me a peasant! Can you believe it? A fruit vender in this city is as self-absorbed and pretentious enough to think himself a nobleman! May it bring him no comfort when he realizes that I shall outlast his great grandchildren who, no doubt, shall also be fruit vendors.
Perhaps that is too harsh of me. After all, I come from humble beginnings myself. Not everyone is given the benefit of channeling a god.
Second, the proper respect is not given to Corellon in this urban cesspool. Talos, Elwoz (I've since learned the Shaman's name), and Stovokor (affectionately referred to as Balanos, apparently -- must be a surname) ventured to the temple district to pay our respects to the higher authorities. I wandered about the district, searching for a glorious effigy to The Divine. Wouldn't you know it? The temple, if I may even use that term, to Corellon was but a small gray-bricked building. I must have passed it by twice. What a shame it is to see a civilization so out of touch with the majesty and wonder of the wilderness. Here worked a kind and ancient elder, and there was but one child of The Divine who knelt in prayer before the humble shrine. I should hope one day to return there during the solstice so that I may see the building at its busiest.
Afterwards, we met here at the White Stallion to rest for tomorrow's trek to Wellspring. I do hope to find this DuSaul and repay him for his previous surprise. Perhaps the road to Wellspring will lead us to the answers we seek. I hear there is an Inn along the road there which is well known for its drink and song.
Until tomorrow, Journal. May we remain in his light.
