With things heating up and with the island we were currently on last month, I had completely forgotten a few things that I was suppose to do. [She had forgotten her own birthday of all things.] So it reminded me that I don't actually know when my crews birthdays are, or my friends here for that matter.

So I thought I would at least ask as well as asking for ones favourite kind of cake. So when things aren't as hectic I can bake it and bring it on or after ones birthday. It may not be much, but it's the least I could do. 

[The following is written in a very careful hand, to make sure it's easily legible.]

I know the navy is taking actions again, and there is a risk of having to defend ourselves in battle. If that occurs, and anyone sustains serious injuries, please contact me aboard the Oargy. I am capable of healing most injuries and infections in a matter of moments.

Of course, the offer always stands, no matter how anyone ends up getting hurt.

[And he misses working as a healer. Moving on, though:]

Does anyone know where I can find some yarn?

Two things:

1.) Have the chalky candy hearts with the trite sayings disappeared everywhere, or has anyone managed to save a few?

And

2.) Does anyone have recommendations for the best places to procure ale and hard spirits?

[Unfortunately, Leliana had arrived during a time without a welcoming committee. Though she saw the flyer, she didn't have the immediate confrontation she needed due to the importance of the event she was taken from. Within the journal, she could only see a few entries and none were telling her that this was a completely different world. It's not like it was something she would come to the conclusion of while waking up in an unknown port town, and the great importance of the event she was taken from caused her to quickly add her own entry to the journal. She could have written it in the magical book, but it wouldn't have really captured the tone of her voice. Its desperation and urgency were very important. She pushed aside her initial uncertainty on the capabilities of the book, and spoke to it.]

So this legend, that poem... is true?

[She sounds almost disbelieving of it, but quickly goes on.]

I've never heard of it before, in any of the places I've been or people I've met. If it is supposed to be our only way back home, and it's been shattered, then I can only say that there's no time to find the pieces! There must be another way. All of Thedas, no, all of the world is in great danger! The blight... it must be stopped, before it grows too large.

[She wasn't sure what the light meant. She hoped that it had meant the end of the archdemon, but it could have been something else. It could have been the distraction needed to capture her and who knew who else, for example. Until she was sure, she had to make sure others knew of the potential danger.]

Everything you know, everything you've lived for will be destroyed. Killed or corrupted beyond recognition. All the beauty in the world, gone.

[She paused for a short moment.]

There is a small chance that the archdemon has been destroyed, but I don't know for sure. I was taken before I could find out.

[Her voice grew a little rougher for that last sentence. Her disproval very clear in her tone.]

But we can't take the risk if it wasn't destroyed!

[The following handwriting is scribbled in the hand of someone clearly impatient, but there's also the occasional swirl to imply a decent education. Aside from that, though, the only effect they add is to make it slightly more illegible.]

Does anyone know where we can buy some bandages? Or if any of the nearby islands have herbs that could be used to make poultices? Hawke ended up spending too long looking at hats at Isla Empieza and we didn't have time to stock up. On anything except alcohol, that is.

I would have asked sooner, but we've also spent a week trapped in a tomb because this time Hawke wanted to loot a broken crate filled with nothing but shiny pebbles- [That last s ends in a long line, as if someone just jolted the writer.

And the next sentence is written in an entirely different handwriting, as if whoever jolted the original writer is leaning over said person's shoulder, and is adding a few comments of their own:]

They're probably gemstones, which means now that we're out of the tomb we can sell them. And put some on my hat.

[There's another strike across the page, and a third handwriting takes over.]

Andraste's ass, that week was terrible. I'm made for the open ocean, not crawling around in caves with miles and miles of rock between me and the sky. At least the entertainment wasn't lacking.

[And if there was any doubt as to what the third person meant, a scribble appears, of the sort that opens with "Anders dragged his fingers across Hawke's chest as he murmured, 'why don't I show you my lightning trick...'", but you'll have to read fast to catch it, as a moment later there's a pause in the writing, and then it's hastily scribbled out again. The original writer finally reappears.]

This is more important than-- [as if they'd even listen.]

If there's going to be a battle, then I need to help the injured. And I can only do so much without supplies.