The World of Layonara
Character Development => Development Journals and Discussion => Topic started by: minerva on May 30, 2005, 05:50:00 am
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[SIZE=16]* a worn brown journal sits open on the desk. The first half of the book is filled with various styles of handwriting. Many charcoal drawings illustrate the pages. It is the second half of the book that is of interest. The writing has changed to a flowing script as a new hand records the Hommel legacy*[/SIZE]
[SIZE=16] [/SIZE] [SIZE=16]Poppa I do not know why now, of all times, the family journal opens for me. Uncle Spence was so angry that the clasp would not yield to him. I could not make him understand it would* scratched out and replaced with* did not open for me either. [/SIZE] [SIZE=16]Until now.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=16]A Dragon; a large golden Dragon…I dreamt of it. It called to me; said I could help save this land. It was a most confusing dream. When I awoke I was in a new land. Your books and mother’s flute were also with me, but little else. I clutched the family journal, for support more than anything. You held it so dear and said was the only legacy you could leave me. For the first time in my life it opened for me. The page it turned to had but one line on it. The words you said before you left me Poppa. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=16][SIZE=16]Seek the magic [/SIZE][SIZE=16][SIZE=16][SIZE=16]What does that mean? As I wander around this place called Hlint I see may strange and wondrous things. I also see many dangers. To this land the Lady of Magic is known as Lucinda. I will pray to her that she give me guidance. Perhaps it was her magic that you wished for me to seek. [/SIZE]
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New Friends
Poppa life is hard here. I try to find some way to keep busy, some way to fit in. I have met a most extraordinary man. He is built like an oak tree and almost as tall. It’s too bad he doesn’t have the sweet smell of the forest. He reeks in a most particular way. I try to ignore it, not only to be polite, but also because his sweet disposition more than makes up for a bad smell. He has been such a help to me. I imagine him as a brother of sorts. He has shown me the land, and helped me perform a few tasks for the local people. *added a bit later* Mikey, oh dear, Poppa is more than he seems. I stranger appeared in town today, he knew him from his youth. It seems that my rather large friend is a giant, or rather a half giant. It has greatly distressed him finding this out. It does nothing to change my opinion of him, but others in town are not so open minded. He is harassed by the dwarves, although I don’t know why? He has never been anything but a model citizen since I have known him. I fear the taunting will cause him to go. To go and seek the heritage that was so long hidden from him
Poppa I wish you were here. I miss your guidance so much. Aunt Aida and Uncle Spence were a poor substitution for you. Why did you have to leave? Why do those I love leave me? Mikey left today for a place called Dregar. He said he had to find his mother’s people. He said he had to know. I can respect that but I will sorely miss him
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Acceptance and Romance
Life has begun to settle down into a rhythm. I have found my niche as a traveling companion. I am not nearly strong enough or skilled enough with a blade to adventure on my own. People do however like me to accompany them. My voice seems to help and the healing skills Lucinda has granted me seems to be in need by companions.
I have also discovered that Aunt Aida did me a favor in teaching me the ways of the kitchens. The local innkeepers are quite generous with their kitchens. This has allowed me to become a very good cook. I have also improved in my skills with a needle. The sewing I would do for the villagers has blossomed into a trade as a tailor. Many of the hunters are kind and bring me pelts. They know I cannot hunt well myself. I have made lots of leather garments and have become rather good.
Seek the magic. That is what you said Poppa. But what magic. I pray to the Lady and she has allowed me to learn many things to keep myself and others safe. I have learned to heal to honor her. I met a handsome young cleric in my first days here. He was a chosen of Lucinda. We met again a few days ago. He tried to warn me from doing an unwise thing. He seems very kind and attentive Poppa. He makes me laugh. Is there not magic in laughter? Is this the magic you would have me find?
Celgar, my handsome cleric has become very attentive. He courts me now. His friend the bard Ozy spouts poetry in his name and presents me with flowers. We watch the clouds together, talk, and dream of a future. His touch warms my heart and I miss him so when he is not here. Cel talks of love and marriage. Perhaps this is the magic; the magic of home and hearth. Celgar has asked me to marry him when he can find a ring. Perhaps I will say yes. A ring matters little to me. It is but a piece of metal. Perhaps I will say yes.
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Friends
Poppa, things are good. I am fitting in to life here. I have made many new friends.
Connor, an alchemist I met by chance while exploring the tower north of Hlint has become like an older brother. He is easy to talk with and fun to be around. Poppa I wish I had a brother or sister to share my life with. Connor uses Lucinda’s gifts as I do. He does not study, but pulls them naturally from the weave. Brisbane has also become a fast friend. Her young adopted son Tom is so cute, yet vulnerable. He reminds me of what my life might have been like if I had not had Uncle Spence to take me in, and was left to the mercy of the streets. I have used my building skills with the needle to sew him a bear toy of his own. I was so touched that he loves it. Imagine Poppa it was the first toy he had ever had. It made me think of Mother. For a fleeting second I could see her smile, hear her laugh. Poppa is this the magic …the magic of friends?
Poppa, Celgar has asked me to marry him. I said yes. I am so happy. We have a home together in Krandor. Perhaps soon we will fill it with the laughter of children. Connor continues to be a valued friend, trading pelts with me for the juices I extract from various berries. The skills Aunt Aida taught me in the kitchen have not been amiss. My skills are actually sought out now. My skills as a seamstress have also caught the attention of a master tailor. He considers me for an apprentice.
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The Dark Comes
* The page is stained with tears and the occasional drop of blood*
The Dark Comes….Poppa those are the words carved in my flesh, into my back. Hlint was attacked last night by Drow. I was first hit as I traded pelts with Connor outside the inn. An arrow came out of nowhere and struck my shoulder. I ran. I hid. The safest place I knew was the safety of the kitchens; a place of good memories. Not any more, it is now a place of nightmares. As the poison coursed through my veins an assassin appeared. The vermin was cold and heartless as one expects of Drow. He said I was to me made an example of, to carry a message.
Dear Lucinda Poppa. He forced me to the ground and tore the dress from my back. His knife carved those words in my back as he held my head by the hair. Blood was everywhere. Poppa I tried not to scream, I tried to be brave, to not give him the satisfaction of knowing how terrified I was. Poppa it hurt so badly. That knife not only cut my flesh, it cut my very soul. I had thought I was growing stronger, more able to protect myself and others. It only served to prove how weak I was. I don’t remember how help came. I remember a healer and sounds of battle. I was so frightened. I hid in the corner shivering, staring at the pool of blood that must have been mine. After some time I made my way outside, to the gathering there in the inn. So many people hurt. A figure appeared. He said is name was Navarre. He was an agent for the Drow. He said they were united. The poison that was delivered to me was also delivered to Bris and others. He said the poison would remain inactive in my body as long as Celgar remains out of the battle yet to come. If Cel moves to fight the Drow invasion, I die. I die completely. Lucinda will not be able to send me back. My soul will be lost forever. Why now Poppa? Why?
*more tear stains *
The gashes on my back have begun to heal, but the pink scars still bear the message of the Drow. It is not this that makes my heart ache. The poison that takes hold of my very essence, it seems to have no cure. A gift to the Drow from Baeron Ca’duz, more and more have been stricken. I was there when Port Hampshire was besieged by spiders. Strangely enough the spiders did not seem interested in attacking a few of us; me, Lalaith, Yashilla. We seemed to be spared. It was odd. It did not; however keep me from dispatching as many as I could back to Ca’duz and his followers, whom I suspect sent them in the first place. Many innocents in the city lost their lives that night. It is not this that makes my heart ache. Celgar has become distant and detached from me. At first he wanted to seek a cure, but now he acts as though the events of that night in Hlint did not happen. He continues as if life were normal in every respect. This makes my heart ache. I try to keep a brave face, but the scars I see each morning remind me...The Dark Comes.
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QUESTIONS
Poppa, dear Poppa, what am I to do? Today in town a Drow appeared from nowhere. He called me his Queen, his Mistress. What is the meaning of this? First the poison, and now this? Poppa I am so confused. He wants me to go to the dark. I can only assume he means the under dark, the realm of the Drow and other vile creatures. Do I contain evil in my soul Poppa? Why would he say I was the path for the return of the dark queen?
It appears my Drow courts more than one Mistress. Lalaith also has had him whisper in her ear. What are the Drow up to? What do they seek to do? More are being poisoned by these assassins daily. Connor has been struck. Poppa I am so frightened. Celgar ignores them and leaves me seemingly alone to face this. I try to seek aid where I can, I try to understand, but it is so frustrating. I feel so helpless. My patron is too powerful for me to take on alone. I have stepped up my training with the sword. While this is a journey of discovery for me, it is a poor match for my patron who can turn Ender to stone
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Confusion and Fire
I wish I had you here to talk to Poppa; you and mother. I am so confused. The pages of the journal fell open farther today. They reveal a strange language, and your hand translating the words. Drow. How did you come to know this and why did you write it down? If only you were here to explain it to me. My patron confuses me. He protects me and has saved me several times. He seems to care but how can that be.? Drow are not supposed to care. They are supposed to be filled with hate. Even if you explain it as duty, it does not explain the care in which he touches me and the fire that I feel. I wish mother were here. How can I be betrothed to Celgar and feel the warm loving glow I feel for him and yet feel a fire in my soul when my Patron is around? He won’t even give me his name. Lairilweki is what he calls himself. I call him Lar.
He has told me of the Diadem, a crown of sorts. He says I carry something within me, something the Drow want, something special. I search the pages of the journal, but nothing is revealed except a few more drawing of our home and some songs I can only believe were mothers’. He told me a council and a Voice. It is the council that set this in motion. Who they are I don’t know, and what their goals are he cannot or will not say. I still do not trust him; not entirely.
How dare him Poppa! He accuses me of playing with him. Can you imagine? I try to understand and this is the reaction I get. I try to act like I think he wants … You have written the old archaic Drow of the temples and scrolls, which again leaves me to ponder why. The passage that appeared today, so confusing. In archaic Drow it speaks of magic and love. L’alurl faerbol zhan mrann d’ssinss
Is this the magic you wish me to seek? If so, with whom do you mean; surely not the assassin in my shadow? I feel fire yes, but fire burns and I do not want to be burnt, which is what I fear this Drow means to do to me. Consume me, use me. Use all that is me and toss the empty shell away.
Fire. He leaves my soul on fire. There is no other way to say it. One kiss, one passionate embrace and I am his. What I feel, or thought I felt for Celgar is an illusion. I can see that now. He was going to leave me. Lar has feelings for me I know he does; the passion in his kiss betrays them. Can I trust this passion? Is it a ruse to gain my confidence? He watches from the shadow, he sees, but does he really see? Can he see the rift between Cel and I? Can he see my loneliness? Does he know how much I ache? And most of all , does he care?
Ceela; Elven for love and Drow for love, it is supposedly pure and uncorrupt. But is it? What is the price I must pay to find out? The spider marks my neck. My days may be numbered. Do I want to live them in quiet comfort or do I want to seek the flame of my heart knowing it could possible burn me worse than any poison. A choice must be made. Once again Poppa I seek you guidance. If there is a way, let me know.
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How can it be? Was it you ? There on the page below your parting words, faded but still visible
Trust in your Heart, for it will show you the Path of your Love.
Trust in my heart. Lar said the same thing.
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A UNION OF MAGIC
*pressed into the page is a small flower and the sketch of a shoreline under moonlight is just beside the writing.*
Mother came to me as I dozed by the shore. She smiled and her words were an enigma.
The Time for Sound and Magic has come.
And with her words a song. No notes written down, it would be useless as I cannot read music, but notes dancing in my head. I found her flute tucked next to your journal when I awoke. Funny, I didn’t remember putting it there. The music Poppa, it was so beautiful. It was perfect for the lake. The notes mingling with the waves, blending with the birds and echoing of the hills were so unlike anything I have played before. Simple tavern songs that was all I knew. I few compositions I had made, but nothing resembling what she whispered in my mind.
The beauty of the night did not end with the music of the flute. He is my magic Poppa. Was it like that for you and Mother? How I wish you were here to talk to. We could always talk. Even as a child you would talk to me of the trees and the life contained in the forest around our home. I miss our discussions on magic. I wish …. * Ink blots the page as if a long pause occurs in the script…* We are one: one truth, one magic. He is my fire and I willingly dance with his flame. His eyes betray his love. I know they do. You and Mother would not lead me astray. I will follow my heart and find my magic.
Freedom. Freedom to choose. Lar gave me my freedom. At least from this cursed poison. Such a small stone it is. Black like the dark it comes from and so cold to the touch. Now the choices to make and there are many.
My friends afflicted will have stones too, deep in that underdark tower. Do they not deserve to know? Telling would bring my own life in jeopardy as they will surely seek to liberate their lives from the threat. They are my friends, yet to preserve my own life, I must keep theirs from them. For now I will hide this stone. I hope that a cure can be found and this will be just another beach side pebble.
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On Veldrin
Veldrin… Translated from archaic Drow it means shadow. A shadow he is. He is my Ceela’s brother, twin brother to be exact. He is so different than Lar. I find him disconcerting. His command of the shadows scares me. Shadows mean death. Shadows strike in the haunted forests around Fort Hope. I’ve never seen good come from shadow, yet Veldrin *large ink blot*
He scared me. The shadows whipped around me furiously. I had done nothing but whisper a word. He tried to apologize by teaching me a song for my flute. Amazingly simple, yet incredibly intricate, the effect was quite beautiful. Where a Drow would learn celestial music I don’t know, but that is what he called it. It seems to call a song to me. The words are forming in my head, but hazy, as if through a cloud. Veldrin’s charisma is almost infectious. Most that meet him seem to like him. He has manners more like an elf than a Drow, yet he was raised Drow. Still for all Lar’s abruptness and hard edges, I trust him more. Veldrin is the fox to Lar’s wolf. Is the fox trustworthy, or just as deadly? We are taught to be wary of the wolf, but who would think to be cautious of the fox when both were in sight?
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Answers and Questions
I have always loved books. Poppa you know that. I used to sit for hours by the fire and read. I think that is one of the greatest gifts you gave me; your love for knowledge and the ability to read. You always said knowledge was power. I know you had wanted me to study magic but ….
We went to a library today. So many beautiful books, it seemed a shame that Lalaith felt the need to steal them. We went seeking knowledge, knowledge about the poison, knowledge about the diadem and knowledge about why this was happening to us.
The gifts of the Tol’Eflor: As fanciful as it sounds, this seems to be the reason. The reason Lalaith and I are chosen. It seems we bear ancient blood of the creator race. A gift from them to elves countless centuries ago; gifts meant to control the powers of life and death and the balance in between. Imagine Poppa, me with elf blood. Did you know? Did mother know? Which of you did I inherit it from? Or perhaps I got it from you both? Light, Sound and Shadow; which of these is me? Which grace do I have?
Searching the shelves for information on the poison yielded far more than expected. I found an ugly book with an even uglier letter.
Lar and Veldrin are gifted such as I. I would seem they too have a part to play. The Drow’s plans are sinister. They wish to corrupt the cradle with their malice. How they plan to do this is unclear to me, but I trust Connor will solve the enigma of the letter. What troubles me more is what was not said. Lalaith read the letter aloud to us, but I know she did not do it truthfully. What was she hiding? Why does she do this? Trust is earned not given. How can I trust in her if she will not trust in me? First stealing the books, then this. Poppa I fear she is not as she seems.
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DECEPTION
Secrets. When are secrets really lies? How can secrets build trust? I keep the secret of my stone from Connor, but am I lying to him? I met with Lalaith earlier. She knew of the stones, but would not say if she possessed her own. I did not press her on it, not wanting to reveal my own little confidence.
So many secrets, so much I do not know, but Poppa really, do I want to know? I guess time will tell. I will have to trust my heart on this as well.
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SWIMMING
Remember the pond by the house Poppa, the one where Mother taught me to swim. The one were we used to sit and talk after Mother left us. While out walking today with Lar, we found our own pond. We spent the day, just the two of use, relaxing, swimming, and talking. Daily my love for him grows, and daily I see him change. The coldness of the dark is fading, at least around me. Replaced is warmth that I think surprises even him. He will always be what he is. His training in the dark had made him an assassin; calculating, thinking, and when doing his trade cold. I cannot deny him, he is what he is. With me he is warm, and loving. With me he cares. Perhaps if I can be patient, if I can show him the value of love, he will also change with others. It burns me that the fox is beloved by many, but he strength of the wolf may save us all.
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A Journey into the Dark
* Various sketches of under dark creatures cover the next few pages and margins. Included also are some landscapes of caverns and depictions of ore veins and waterfalls*
The under dark is a place to fear but a place of beauty as well. Lar took me to see his former home. The treck was long and arduous as we snaked our way thru tunnels. Gems pocked the walls of some of these tunnels while in others I could see veins of ore crisscrossing the walls. I learned quickly to stay close to Lar for my own protection. The Drow we met seemed to respect him and showed no notice, let alone surprise at my presence.
Eventually we came to the outskirts of Olist Orbinn. Lar showed me the city from across the lake. It was a safe distance; still it was only his arms around me that kept me from fleeing in terror. He pointed out the tower. The tower of the Voice, where the ritual would be performed. We talked of many things while I stared across the lake. Lar assured me he could protect me. He also called me the Mistress of Sound. He and Veldrin feel that it is the Tol’s gift of Sound I carry within me. They of course carry Shadow. I wonder who is graced with Light.
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Lost Memory
A family; is that what we are? Veldrin called me his sister. I guess he is right. We are family. I’m not sure if that is entirely a good thing as I have seen some families that would be much better off disbanded.
We talked of the shadows and I confided my fear of them to him. *teardrops mar the ink* I believe his intent was good, but what he did, it frightened me even more.
It started innocently enough. He used the shadows to recreate an image of our old home; the house, the forest, the pond and mother’s flowers. Then she came. She was just an image at first. Along with an image of my childhood, he created an image of her and we played. I felt my heart ache watching, but Poppa, when he created you I thought my heart would burst in pain.
I don’t know if this was his intent, but Poppa it hurt so much to visit the past. Happy memories that I long since buried. I buried them for a reason. That happiness had been lost to me. Uncle Spence and Aunt Ida took me in, but they never loved me.
Poppa he called Mother out of the shadows. She was real and solid. She stood beside me and she spoke. She said she loved me *large ink blot*
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Rage
The fox showed his colors. The Drow in him lurks just below the surface. I saw it. Veldrin may have renounced his heritage to some, but it was well apparent as he raged against Lar. He wanted me to come with him. He said he had more music to teach me. Of course Poppa I did not go. My place is by Lar’s side, not his. His stability as well as Lalaith’s worries me.
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A Special Union
Lar and I returned to the under dark. The trip was just as long and just as hard. The beauty of the dark still amazes me. It is cold, yet within the coldness there is warmth. He said he had a surprise for me. Poppa he is so wonderful. He took me to a large cavern with a lake and a beautiful waterfall. As I stared in to the beautiful falls he stood behind me and whispered of a more beautiful lake behind the falls; a secret lake that few knew of or visited. Then he rowed me over and we found the entrance hidden at the base of the falls. Inside was amazing. An ebony lake shimmered in the darkness. It wasn’t true darkness as the water seemed to glow. Lar called it the Cavern of Endless Sound. We sat by the water’s edge as he told me of the legend of the place. Apparently he had timed our visit to coincide with the anniversary of the union of the Drow maiden and the sea creature. As we talked the glow in the water became more intense and it burst into light. The urge to play was so intense that I had to take my flute and accompany his tale with the music of the cavern. Poppa it was as if the notes came alive around us. The acoustics of the cavern were perfection. *again the ink blots as the writer pauses in thought* The notes bathed us in sound. They swirled in the air and when I stopped playing… they lingered. The love of the pair that created the magic of this place was strong. Lar and I added magic of our own, as the sound, light and shadows mingled around us.
The song I heard in my heart, the song that was hazy and unclear, suggested by the celestial tones, yet conceived by the lake, the one Mother tried to give suddenly became clear as I lay in his arms.
“Love is like magic, and it always will be,
For love still remains life's sweet mystery.
Love works in ways that are wondrous and strange,
And there's nothing in life that love cannot change!
Love can transform the most commonplace
Into beauty and splendor and sweetness and grace.
Love is unselfish, understanding and kind,
For it sees with its heart, and not with its mind.
Love is the answer that everyone seeks;
Love is the language that every heart speaks.
Love can't be bought, it is priceless and free.
Love, like pure magic, is life's sweet mystery!!”
Helen Steiner Rice
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* in a slightly different script the following passage has been added*
Legend say that a long time ago, when the dark races were young, a species lived in the underground lakes This species had adapted to the darkness of course, and all the differences in climate in the dark. Back then, chaos reigned even more than now. The caves were changing daily, never the same stream ending on the same lake, nor was there a city that remained for any longer than was needed. The creatures within the dark were equally chaotic; Nomads all, and adaptive. Knowing that survival usually meant more to not rely in comfort than to defend themselves against any predators. This species I speak of, was a strange mix between elves and sea creatures, yet adapted to the perils of the never ending night. This adaptation meant that they were way of those around him for wary is and was always the way of the dark. This flock of graceful creatures was known to settle in deep caverns like this to meet their kind and exchange their passions of the waters. As I said, back then the dark races were still young. And with youth comes curiosity. A young female Drow, who enjoyed chaos of these currents frequented these caves to seek peace an isolation.
This was her safety place and she enjoyed it. As the story goes, one day she entered these caves for her routine bath. This time however she was not to be alone, for a small tribe of these lake farers had just pass by this lake. As the young Drow lost her clothing, right were we stand, her beautiful body was seen by a wondering sea creature. As the sea creature dark eyes gazed on this beautiful woman, curiously he removed himself from his tribe and swam close to her hiding under the dark waters. The young Drow dived gracefully in the waters and just below it, our friend waited. The surprise of the encounter was startling. At first seemingly terrifying, but soon enough turned to curiosity. Our two creatures, both beautiful and graceful began examining each other. And much like a flame to a coal they were both attracted to each other instantaneously. Passion reigning freely within the dark halls at the time, such encounter had only one possible end, as they both united in a strange love. As they united, he provided the nourishment of breath to her, and she provided love unbound. Their union only matched by the beauty of their surroundings. They united, the waters became enchanted with a peculiar magic, the sounds of their love deep within the waters, could not be contained, and their love was embraced by their surroundings. So strong was this encounter that the melody they created was accepted by water, rock and air. Forever trapped in the shining hall.
Legend has it that this love consumed them, and they never escaped it; both of them dying at the culmination of their love. The two lovers, embraced in an eternal hug, singing to each other of the passion in their union, feeding the eternal song in the cave. Yet the love eternal of their embrace carries to this day, for the music of their love enchanted these halls. It is said that on the day of their anniversary, a strange shining glimmer of sound and light can be seen at the bottom of this lake.
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Spiders and Questions
We went again to another library with books that contained more questions than they answered. The first was a chaotic jumble of pages that I wondered how anyone could use. True to her form, Lalaith stowed it in her pack without leave from the caretakers. I’m not sure which was worse, Lalaith’s light fingers or Veldrin’s encouragement of her theft.
The second book was far more *blot* interesting Poppa. It was a magical book. I found it by my usual method of feeling for the unusual in the patterns on the shelves, looking for discord amongst the tomes. It was a small book with a spider embossed on the front. The spider looked so real I was compelled to touch it. Doing so brought the book to life. A large spider appeared before us. Poppa it was quite startling, but fascinating as well. Lalaith was able to form a link with it. It called itself Sathamayta It seems it was a carrier of sorts of the scriptures of none other than Baraeon Ca’duz. We questioned it on the Diadem, and the ritual. Its link was with Lalaith. She has been known to withhold information in the past. I’m not sure Poppa is she was telling all she saw, or as she saw. How can one trust someone who is openly a thief and has lied before? As she maintained this link with the beast, she began to change, as if becoming Drow *blot*. My hunger for more knowledge and my concern for her safety were at odds. Poppa I’m ashamed to say that for a moment I was about to push her further without regard to her wellbeing. True to form, once Connor and I pulled her from the link, she went straight to Veldrin. Poppa it was probably foolish, but I had to see for myself… I had to know if she was lying, since the images she saw were… *blot* disturbing. I tried to make contact with it, and briefly I did, but Connor pulled me away. This book was too important to put in Lalaith’s hands. I grabbed it as the spider returned to book form.
The discussion that followed was heated. Veldrin was unsure what the images meant. Lar was unnaturally quiet. It does not bode well. It seems the diadem collects the gifts. It pulls them from the gifted. If they survive is still unclear. In the spider vision they do not. I clearly remember Lar telling me the recipients would live with the gift gone. As I said Poppa we were left with far more questions than answers.
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VOWS
*pressed into this page is a simple mountain flower* A sketch of Lar sleeping is to one side of the page, while a vista of the Dragon Isles is on the other.
He said this to me. “Katrien, you have changed me beyond what the gods have been able to do in ages. The instilled hate of two gods; gone from me. You defy gods.”
“I need no temple or vows or ring. I am yours for as long as you will have me.”
*A sketch of a fair feminine and a dark masculine hand entwined*
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A Wedding
It was a beautiful wedding. Bris was radiant and Plen...well Plen without his hood is quite handsome. They are a wonderful couple. I wish Lar could have joined me, but I know it was for the best he did not. Celgar was there and that could have gotten ugly fast. Poppa I even think Enzo was flirting with me. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was a married woman. Cole made a scene over Lalaith and Veldrin… Even with his faults I can still see why she chose Veldrin over him.
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My Birthright
Poppa she accosted me, right in the middle of town. Annie, that fighter Asher introduced me to. She said we urgently needed to talk. The busy streets are not the place for this. Thankfully we found a quiet place to sit. If I hadn’t been sitting, I might have fallen over. She demanded my flute. Can you imagine? Of course I said no. Nothing will make me give up Mother’s flute. Her story did concern me though. She spoke of the council. What she described sounded like what the spider described. Could it be they are awake? I sent her away despondent. I feel sorry for her, but more lives and souls are at stake here than hers.
It seems she does not give up easily. If the Drow seek to divide us, they are doing a good job. Somehow she talked Gloin into trying to intimidate me into giving up my flute. Gloin, a dwarf I called friend, casting divine magic on me… Thank Lucinda I had a champion in the crowd to help me and Henri, sensing my need, flew to find Connor.
Annie told her story to Connor. Essentially the same as she told me. She was part of an expedition in to the mountains when the group was besieged by shadow. It was then they apparently met individually with a member of the shadow council. The council held their soul. They were given a task to have it given back to them. Annie was to retrieve my flute. Another is after the spider book. One is seeking the location of the shee, and yet another Veldrin’s sword.
That woman is *blot* well…stupid. Poppa I am sorry, but it’s true. For a fighter she lacks in courage and I think one too many giants have dropped boulders on her head. She didn’t think to get any information from the Drow. She honestly thinks that the Drow will keep their word. She is prepared to simply rollover and die if she doesn’t get Mother’s flute. No fight, no trying to find another way. The Drow says jump and she asks permission to come down. Honestly. I think Connor and I finally got thru to her. I think.
Ceela and Veldrin tried to explain how the council was coming close to our plane and out of shadow. I’m afraid it was a bit complex for me. Veldrin thought they wanted our personal objects because they link to us, that thru these objects, the council could compel us to their will. Never will I give up my flute. It is my only link to Mother
-
Family
Poppa, I…rather we were summoned before the Queen. If seemed a strange light had been spotted in the south, and out to sea, as if nestled within that place they call the Serpent Isles. Connor, Lalaith and I had an inkling of what it might be, but kept quiet in front of the Queen until we could go and confirm our suspicions. Our companions had no idea of the power they faced, but resistance was met on the road as we traveled. We suffered a major attack from the Drow in Port Hampshire. I wonder how many of those old tunnels are still functional. Lar has shown me one, but it was in a different area than the Drow attacked from.
The closer we came to the Islands, the more my nerves stood on end. The fools in the entourage would not listen. We tried to tell them of the Cradle and our suspicions before leaving port. They were far more interested in preparing for battle than knowing what they may possibly face. Fools. They were quickly enlightened. Navarre met us on the road. He had another with him as well; the one Lalaith spoke of, the pale one, Kelezephian. He told us if we sought the Cradle he would kill us. This confirmed to us it was the cradle.
Lalaith called Veldrin to her. He tried to explain to these fools what it is we fought for. I don’t think they understood. Again Veldrin called the shadows and provided a vision of the council and their mounts. I was terrified. Lar appeared to hold me and ease my terror, before he had to slip way to defend us from the shadow beasts that dodge our steps. A message was sent back to the Queen. Our mission was successful in so much as we knew the source of the light she sought.
So close Poppa, we were so close to cradle. Being close to the cradle also meant we must have been close to the homeland of the families.
We were. Poppa we got to travel to the homes of the families. Our guide almost seemed to be expecting us. He was of Light and took us to his ancestral home first, the Halls of Light. The way was arduous. Poor Connor was struck dumb by some creature ands I had to tend to him for hours until his reasoning returned. During that time our wonderful party left us behind. It is a good thing the Lady of Spells grants us both the ability to hide ourselves, but it took awhile to catch up. We found the grove of the families. We entered the Halls of Light. It was so sad. The once beautiful architecture of the great halls lay in shambles. Dust, rubble and decay lay all around. It touched most every surface, save the books. They seemed to be spared the ravages of time. Books have a way of jumping into Lalaith’s pack and true to form she removed one that looked like a journal similar to the one of Shadow she stole from the other library. This time I believe is not theft. Clearly we of the gift are home, and the contents are ours to find if they chose to yield their secrets to us. Lalaith found a beautifully carved crystal mantle that did indeed include a secret. A pair of flawless diamonds was embedded within it, released with a key that made the plinth shatter. The diamonds were engraved with runes of Light and Creation. With the key came a riddle.
“The three did not fail in unity lost, the light ceased to shine. The path made clear once you find gems bought so dear"
Next we traveled through the grove and came upon a void of darkness. Only this could be the Halls of Shadow. The darkness blinded me and still it frightens me. The shadows seemed to reach out and hold onto me as I made my way with the others to the door. Lalaith was able to open the door for us, and like Light, the Halls of Shadows were in decay. Dank and rotting smells assaulted the nose as gnats buzzed in the air around us. It was not a nice place, and deep within the Halls, there was a shadow and a mirror. Being of Shadow, Lalaith was able to communicate with it, and once again another riddle to be solved, this one with far more fearful consequences. The gems of shadow it seemed were held in darkness. Only passing into darkness and returning could bring them back. Poppa I could not help but think of Mother and the shadow of her that Veldrin called. She has passed into darkness, yet returned. *blot of a long pause in the script*
I’m not sure what transpired between her and the shadow figure but she did manage to pass the test and return with the gems. The repositories of Shadow are soul stones. I wonder if they have runes on them, elven runes for Shadow and Death?
Light and Shadow, are not mine Poppa. Sound and the harmonies of the world around me, are my family. Lar is shadow, but I do not feel with him the darkness that enveloped that place. I can’t lie and say I was unhappy to leave. As if sensing my unease, my Ceela appeared on the road as we searched for my ancestral home, the Halls of Sound. With his aid we found it. Poppa it was like coming home. My description could not give the tower justice. It soared into the air like a high sweet note from my flute. The music of life encircled it. It seemed to blend in perfect harmony with the land contiguous to it. Just stepping close to it doors called to my mind, called to a song that was new yet ancient as time itself. My flute seemed to jump to my lips as the celestial tones from it called home to the tower. The tower answered by unlocking the door. Steeping inside was as heart wrenching as the other halls, but there did not appear to be the same amount of disarray here. In the center on the main tower room stood a large glittering gem that seemed to resonate to the harmonics of the various instruments scattered around. It seemed truly a creation of sound, and we used sound to break it and release the guardian. Again another riddle. The second function of Sound… Sound creates, but sound also maintains, but to convey that in nothing but music was difficult. Poppa each day the music comes easier but becomes so much harder. At times I ache for the simple little tunes I used to play.
Somehow, with the aid of Connor and Lalaith we managed, and the sound gems were ours. Life, and it’s harmonies, its complexities all falling away to eventually to eventual nothingness, only to be lamented by those left to suffer the void , those left behind. Leaving was difficult. I so wanted to linger and explore , but the others were impatient. We have the gems. But what must be done with them? How do they serve us or do we serve them? I wonder if they can be set in unity in the Ancient’s Light replica. Could this help us unlock the knowledge of the cradle that the Tol’Eflor left behind?
*a quick note appears in the margin*
Family… long have I thought of Connor as a brother. Now it is so. Veldrin somehow transferred his gift of Sound to Connor. He is now like me. *blot from a pause* If Veldrin can give his gift up at will, does that mean that I could as well? If he no longer has it, then the gifted should not need to die in the ritual like the spider foretold. Poppa this is quite confusing
-
Dragons
I had wanted to see dragons. I know you were always fascinated with dragon lore, and I had the chance to go see these beasts up close. I tagged along with the party sent as envoy to these great ones. I was just doing my best to survive the trip and provide some moral with my song. I got to see the chromatics blue, green and black. They were truly frightening beasts.
-
Unsettling News
Connor hailed me by the fountain today. I almost wish I hadn’t stopped, but the worry in his eyes compelled me. It seems he heard a rumor. Yashilla had been attacked, by a Drow assassin. So much for our escape to Pranzis. I left Lar a note in our rooms and headed back to Port Hampshire. Yashilla was not hard to find, but her news Poppa, I am glad I left Lar behind. She had indeed been attacked. Her attacker was none other than Veldrin. Connor happened upon us as we spoke, and Yash relayed her story to him. We tried to rationalize why. It only left us with more questions.
Part of the question has been answered. Veldrin was betrayed. His sword is in the council’s possession. They have him under their sway. We must have extra diligence to keep the other objects from them, but I fear it may be too late for some. Lalaith’s ring is missing, as are the journals of light and sound we discovered in our family homes. How are we to prepare for the ritual without these?
Poppa please help me to think: the Path and the Destiny. Is it truly the destiny of shadow to fall? Is it the Path we must follow? Do they walk alone or are they linked?
-
Mysteries of Song
I received a strange note from Kobal, the dwarf, requesting my assistance in a secret endeavor. It was clear from the start our endeavor was no secret. Drow assassins and mages dogged our steps as we made our way to the halls of the Broken One. I had no idea why I was needed, until I entered the halls. Having just been there shortly before, I noticed a change… the air, the sounds were different. I was drawn to my flute, the discord resonating from the walls too much to bear. Chaos and life that was what I felt. I was able to harness the life and blend away the chaos to aid my friends as we made our way deeper into the halls. It was only at the final confrontation with the Drow assassins that I made my error. Sound is creation, sound is harmony, it is not for destruction, it is not for death. I attempted to harness the chaos of the weave and turn it on our Drow foes. I succeeded, but at a cost. I almost killed us all. Mother’s flute went silent, as did the air around us. Not a breath of sound. It was so eerie. Then Kobal discovered them. We were after the gems, much needed to cure the poison that afflicts so many. The way was blocked. The council of Eyes was there, or so it seemed. I can’t help but wonder if the silence was them. Did I do that? Did I call them forth? We searched for a way past them. Kobal thought that light might drive off the shadow. He had the light gems Veldrin had left in his care and gave them to me, to use. The memory of light; I have no gift for it . To force it to obey my gift for sound would prove disastrous. Only one with a gift for light may command it. Poppa in even the wild magic of the Broken One’s halls, Mother was able to reach me. I prayed for her guidance and she gave me a song. Once again the flute worked. Simplicity was the key. Stay true to yourself and you can see clearly what lies ahead. I played her song, and the notes allowed us to see the Council was no threat. From the realm of Shadow, they could not touch us. We were able to collect our gems and the first part of the cure is underway.
-
A Goodbye
Gathering aloe; that is where he found me. He always knew how to find me. It seems that the others did not lie. He is no longer the Veldrin we once knew and I am partially to blame. Life stirs within me. The union that Lar and I share will produce a child. Unfortunately that is what the council wants. The prophecy is that she will be the next link in the chain. Veldrin, no longer needed in that capacity, has been claimed by the council. Claimed by deceit, but claimed none the less. His final visit one of duty and I hope of friendship. We talked a bit, and he gave me a journal; A beautiful book with a single symbol of music on the front. Pity I cannot read it. It seems to be in elven. I’ll have to find someone to help me. Lalaith perhaps, but the pain may be too great and she has withheld information from me before. I don’t know as I can fully trust her. Calling her sister is even a stretch now, though she still carries sound as a gift. I played for him one last time. He left for me a music box. A box with the most wonderful of memories.
Wandering the hills behind the castle is a favorite pastime for both me and my Brother. It was here I found him. I began to tell him of Veldrin’s plight, but it seems I did not have to, as Veldrin slipped from the shadows to join us. Out of respect I kept my distance and tried not to eavesdrop on them. I simply sat and played as Veldrins said goodbye to brother and a good friend. After he had left we were both overcome with grief. I handed Connor my flute and bade he play for me. I don’t know where it came from, but a lament for friendship lost rang into the air. It was more powerful than anything I have done to yet. Unfortunately its power served not only to comfort us, but caught unwanted attention. The Fletcher and her mount walked among us. Lar, as always, watching from the shadows, came. He told us the tale of the Fletcher and her might.
What was most disturbing was the effect she had on him. He seemed to be briefly under her control. I shudder to think what might have happened without arms around him to hold him to me.
A father. I wonder what your reaction was Poppa when mother told you. Lar in his quiet and sometimes obnoxious confidence was actually quite cute. I think he was pleased.
*tear stains mar the ink*
How could he ask me to do that? I would sooner die than end his life. Life without him would be death itself. He talks of the purge; the same that stole Veldrin from us. He says if it takes him, to kill him before our love is turned against us and he kills me. I don’t think I could live without him, and I will not go back to mere existence. I will not loose the fire. I chose to dance in flame. If the consequence is death, then what is, is. The Drow can seek their link elsewhere. They can release Veldrin, they can use Lalaith, or they can bloody well start all over again.
-
The North Wind Bow and the Fletcher
She is known only as the Fletcher
Of course their real names are unknown but that never stopped anyone from giving them some.
Her bow is rumored to have been crafted from the scales of a white dragon all molded and contorted around mithril and yew cavities.
Made from the last white dragon to roam this world, the oldest of them all, as you can imagine the most powerful. She used to live up north in the islands that you now call the Barbarian Isles.
Huge. That was her home, the goblins and kobolds that now live there are the only thing that remain of her kingdom.
A long long long time ago; Very long ago, the islands ended up being an exit to the under dark. Of course it was a strategic place being the perfect location to sail to the protected continents of Layonara. And so the Drow wanted it. The cover and coldness provided by the dark caverns the perfect place for a dark and cold race. The council mandated that this cave system was secured and protected immediately. Half the under dark jumped at the command, the other half was already running for the surface to make the will of the council a fact. And so legions of the best assassins and warriors, spell casters with infinite cosmic power approached the surface.
Back then those kobolds and goblins were empowered by the presence of the dragon as well. All of them swatted like flies and turned into funny looking ice sculptures by the breath of the white one. Locals said that when you were scarred by a White Kobold, the wound would fester and never heal, eventually gangrene would take over and the limb lost. And so after hundreds and thousands of troops were lost the council started to get irritated. At this point in time the voice did not exist. Instead 5 stewards served the ladies.
The position of the stewards was to please and do as the council asked, but they didn't have the influence the Voice has. Yet in power they were a good match to the current Voice. The council ordered the Stewards and their armies to personally foresee the ending of this oversized lizard. And without a second thought another yet massive attack was planned against the creature. ] The consequences of that fight are still seen. To simply put it, there used to be only one island.
Now three instead. So after this enormous battle occurred the land change and mostly everything turned to a desolate wasteland. The dragon stood firm, the stewards dead. And so the dragon stood. Its unwavering dominance over the lands, still unchallenged
The council was now slightly bored and aggravated with the dragon so they took manners unto their own hands. The Fletcher rose from her sanctum in the windy towers of lightning. Her old castle: Wa'q d' Nizzre' ,The Tower of Lightning . An ominous and powerful fortress.
Only fools dared attack and its eyes expanded miles within the deep below. As she glide through misty clouds and passages of dark thunders, she eventually made it to the northern islands of cold.
The Fletcher is known as the first to come and the last to leave wherever the council roamed. The keenest senses of them all, gifted by the purity of her dark heritage. The storm that builds before the council strikes. When she is sighted, it normally means that soon everyone within a close range will die.
When she arrived, her dark presence was felt by the white beast. The winged winds of the north, truly unmatched by any power before attacked blindly at the lithe creature. In its perfecting, the dark lady avoided and contorted around every single one of the Wyrms attempts at destruction. Nothing could be heard of her but the wisping dark winds as they molded around the beast. Twisting and turning, the dragon screamed in frustration. Finally, as the lady finished playing with the power of the north, the lightning answered her call with a single arrow, empowered by the gift of the ages, the gift of the dark halls, one single arrow enraptured in magic and hate.
It flew menacingly from her old bow, and ripping through hardened scales and thick hide, it struck the beasts heart, exploding within.
Nothing was heard after that in the northern wastes, nothing but the cold laughter of the wisping Fletcher, nothing but the cold and calculating devices, as she carved a new bow out of the creature’s skins. The North Wind Bow. A creation of beauty and pain. One carried by an equally beautiful and painful lady.
-
New Hope
Day by day I can feel you within me and the wonder never ceases to amaze me. I know you are a girl. I don’t know how I know, I just do. Lisse’, Harmony that will be your name, a blend of light and shadow and a new hope for us all. Your father’s devotion to you and to me is quite sweet. I never believed he could act like this. The rough edges are gone, replaced by the utmost of care for our comfort. I see the fear in his eyes when he thinks I am not watching. I don’t know the source of his fears or even if they are the same as mine. At night he holds us both, his arms around me and his hands on the growing mound you make of my belly.
-
* … the page is marred with water stains and the ink blurred in places from the moisture. … *
Lisse’ please forgive me.
The arrogance of elves, the desperate plight of so many and the overly large mouth of your Uncle Connor got us into this mess.
Please trust me to get you out of it. I will not condemn you to a life with them. What kind of life would it be, locked in a tower with stuffy old mages who think they are above us all? What kind of person would you be? Was it not the frailties of the elves that got us here to start with?
I did not forsake you. The deal I made was with a heavy heart. So many are afflicted by this poison, so many lives are at stake. I will not give you over to those unfeeling bastards. You will be raised in the love that conceived you; your father’s and my love, not in some cold tower. They refuse to acknowledge the power of the cradle and yet they fear you. They in their arrogance, think they know best. It is the arrogance of elves that got us into this mess.
The cure will soon be made, as we are close. With the wolf returned to the towers, they can have no hold on you. My duty as your mother is to you, not a promise extracted under duress.
Even as you grow within me, I can feel the gift. Of all the gifts you are the greatest. Your Father and I love you. Always
-
Mother help me please.
I am so lost, and so afraid. I can do nothing right. You are not here to teach me. I can hear the music around me. I am bathed in sound but it is also my prison. I cannot escape. Those first with the gift had the Tol to teach them, however limited, and those that followed had family. I have none. I feel like as though I am stumbling blind. I try and it all ends in disaster. It is never the same twice, constantly the rules seems to change and I cannot understand. I have no way to understand. How I wish you had lived. Lisse’ and I need you. We need to understand the gift. Every time I touch your flute I am scared. Music used to be my joy, and now I fear it. I cannot even sing for fear of causing something unwanted. A simple lament to a friendship lost and a Shadow dragon came with a council rider.
How I wished I had never told Lar we would face the ritual. How I wish we had run. It is too much. All I want is my family. To raise my child in the love of a family I never got to fully enjoy. To teach her, watch her grow. Play with her, sing to her. And Lar: to be secure in his arms, to feel his fire in my soul, his love surrounding me.
All of this I am losing. In some grand sacrifice to the greater good I stand to lose it all. Lisse’ to the elves. Lar talks of me having to kill him should the council gain control over him. Seeing the effect the Fletcher had on him, my heart knows this is possible, even in the face of our love.
I don’t think I could live without them. What would be the purpose? How on earth could I go on? They are my very soul. If they were gone, my soul would be dead. There would be no joy. The song of grief would be mine to wail forever.
-
Concentration and focus; Mother, that seems to be the key. I wish I had your guidance, but all the wishing in the world will not bring you back to me. This is a path I must travel, but although you and Poppa do not travel it with me, I do not go alone. Lar has been my rock. His patience with my outbursts is remarkable. He has helped me to seek your guidance from within. I will do my best. Kobal asked my assistance in protecting the wolf when the time comes. I have been practicing my songs on Connor. I hope his patience lasts as well. The burn marks in his robes I will have to repair. This is all so very confusing at times. What I think I am asking the music for sometimes is so very different than what occurs. Most times it is good and a harmony appears that I had not thought of, but sometimes… * blot*
Kobal told me of the thrice gifted soul sacrificed to the Council. The mother of that child lives somewhere close by. I feel the need to visit her grave and see if I can discover more about her. Perhaps …. Perhaps her mother can help where you cannot.
-
Lisse’,
The world you come into will be far different than it is today. A wondrous thing has happened. The great ones have given us a gift. I only hope we can make the best of it. Of course it will be a very long time before the hatchlings will be able to defend Layonara, but their presence, their magic….
Standing in the cave, in the audience of those sleeping; the calling I felt in my being was overwhelming. I know I carry the gift of sound from the Tol’elfor, but what if there is something else? I can pull the Lady’s gifts from the weave without the aid of study or memorization. My Poppa said to seek the magic. Lisse’ there are so many forms of magic. I’ve heard whispers of those like me and your uncle Connor, that somewhere in our lineage, dragon’s blood flows. When I was standing within the might of the great ones, the wise ones I could feel something calling to me. I know you could feel something too as you were particularly restless within me on that journey.
*a break in the writing, the new prose seems to be added later*
Silver and gold… those were the colors of the tunic you wore the day you left. Why does that memory haunt me now? It flashes in my head now when I think of the great dragons I saw. Oh Poppa what does it mean? I can see you in a haze…I can make out your tunic, but little else. I can hear your voice echoing in my young ears as you tell me to seek the magic …then the vision floats off like a cloud of mist.
Are you trying to tell me something? Nothing new appears in the family journal.
-
Heritage
*what follows is a rather bland description of day to day family life. Lists and notes of various alchemical preparations line a few pages, while others contain drawing of plants, animals and various landscapes (including those of the underdark). These go on for quite awhile then the following appears*
It was a difficult day Lisse’, full of many trials. Twice today I had to shoo flocks of birds out of the kitchen as your father insists on using it as his private research area. Today was the last straw and I moved your nursery to a corner of our room and set the small room to his purposes. Perhaps that will save my kitchen from ruin.
Tired and cranky *blot* (yes, your mother gets cranky too, not just your father)[/i] I took a walk down by the water, next to the crypts. I was hoping to get a glimpse of the woman Kobal talked about. Instead I found your uncle.
We talked for a while. He encouraged me to try to use the gift on him. To try and weave a protective song around him, as Kobal has asked me to do with the wolf. It worked…somewhat.
We discussed the child, and the sacrifice of her gift. Together we sought her grave. I could not have done it alone. Your father has done much to alleviate my discomfort around the undead and the concept of shadows but places such as crypts and where the dead lie still makes me uneasy. With little effort we found the site of her burial and something very much unexpected.
Above the grave site was a ball of pure light. Even more unusual was the fact it was trying to speak to us. Your uncle was able to make a connection with it, and by doing so a most disturbing image filled our minds. Horrible green … a tainted river … the passage of time… and the continuation of a cycle, a very ancient cycle… these images crowded my mind. They were disturbing, but not nearly as disturbing as what it chose to do next.
As though in a dream… we were able to travel in what I think was back thru time, back thru the memory of the child. It showed us images of the woman I had sought, her mother. It was odd …for she could not have been much more than a glimmer of hope within her at the time.
The vision was disturbing. The woman … rejected by her own husband … leaving two children behind to try and hide them from the assassins of the council… making a choice that could have only been excruciating.... sacrificing her pain that they might live and prosper…. Or have some chance at it.
Then the vision moved forward to unspeakable horror. Lisse’ I saw your grandmother… Vas’menier… she was the assassin… just as her letter had spoken… she was the one killing this woman’s children…
I saw your grandmother murder an innocent at the feet of its mother. And I wept. I wept for the mother, I wept for the child ...and I wept for you Lisse’.
You are a product of the love your father and I share, but part of you is also her as much as it is my gentle mother. I wept to think that your heart might contain the evil of that woman. I pray to Lucinda and lately to Az’atta as well that it does not. I pray that you are free of that taint of evil, that your heart will contain the goodness of the gifts and the love we have for you.
-
More Musings
*several songs are written below; all seem to lullabies or children’s tunes except one.
One is a collection of notes, a score of a sort. If played on the flute the notes would evoke the feeling of a meadow ripe with wildflowers and a gentle breeze causing them to sway in a sensual dance. Feelings of the warmth of midday bathe the listener into a dreamy relaxed state, a calmness washing over them*
-
A Mission
I knew the day would come when I would have to return to the dark. This time I returned not as an uneasy visitor, but as an unwelcome one. Kobal asked my assistance once again in gathering another component for the cure. Knowing his destination was Az’atta’s grove, and the dangers he would likely face, I could not say no. Connor and a few others that Kobal trusted joined us. I was pleased to see Sand amongst the faces. His troubles seem to have left him, which for him is fortunate. Two others caught my eye. I had heard by reputation alone of the mage Brac’ar, although I think I did sell him some of Patsy’s eggs. The other was a salient figure named Remiel Delmir. His face had a familiar look to it.
Just getting to the entrance to the caverns proved treacherous. Several times I had to call upon Sound and the harmonies of this world to imbibe life back to fallen comrades. It was almost humorous to see the expression on the faces of those who had not been previous witness to the ability of sound to heal. I chose to have them become part of the process, but I don’t think some appreciated the loss…even if it meant life to one of our best defenders.
The council was aware of our coming, but with my flute called upon, how could they not be. They made their presence know as well; they and their shadow dragons.
Lar helped as best he could. He is unable to fight at my side, his reasons are vague and he doesn’t openly share them with me, but I trust they are important.
*what follows are sketches of four large obelisk structures, a few pages of hastily scribed musical score and a scribbling of notes*
It seems that Brac’ar’s journeys into the pillars confirms what I have suspected since translating the Journal of Sound and seeing the Fletcher and her affect on Lar. The Drow council, the Tol guardians are one. Being right has an empty feeling. I am tainted with evil… the gift is tainted with evil, but somehow in your innocence Lisse’ you remain pure. At least that is what the mage could see in you.
The power we face is enormous. How can I hope to stand against the training of the Tol and ages of experience? My music would be but a child’s practice tune to them. Elamshin proved this when he crushed my notes with ease. For some reason he allowed Connor to collect our quarry and us to leave unscathed…Why *blot*[/i]
We must find a way. We must. The diadem must not be allowed to spread its taint. The pillars talk of it being dragon forged, ancient beyond ancient. Joining with it doesn’t seem to be the answer; so surely there is the knowledge to defeat it somewhere… surely somewhere we will find the answers.
The plant in hand we returned to that horrible city, and then finally back to Karthy.
-
A Needed Break
*here in the journal are numerous drawings. All are set in the mountains, but depict various scenes. Some are glorious sunrises, while others are tracings of the night sky as if seen from the view of someone gazing up from the ground. There are several small studies of Lar in various tasks from hunting to swimming lazily in what appears to be a cool cavernous lake. More musical scores are also present. In each, nature seems to flow from the notes. The compositions range from soothing enchantments to inspirational harmonies of animals and elements. A full two pages contain drawings of what appear to be a blending of Lar and Kat’s features into that of a child, supposition on the appearance of Lisse’*
-
Vas’menier
Connor joined me once again for my regular sojourn by the lake. I kept hoping to see her… the elven lady… to talk to her … find out what she knows. This day however brought another … it seems my mates mother is not dead after all. Vas’menier visited us… Her words were mostly for Connor however. It seems in the giving of Sound to him, Elamshin forged some kind of bond. Both my brothers bonded … I pray this is a means to salvation for Veldrin, I pray that somehow what he was, however flawed can be returned to us. The Elamshin creature he has become….. Lisse’ I would have you know your other uncle as he was, not as he is now. Not the creature full of hate I met in Az’atta’s grove.
*penned lightly in the margin* Vas’menier called Lisse’ a child of corruption yet Brac’ar could see no taint in her…[/i]
She taunted us with the location of the elven mother, and then challenged us to find her first. It was a race against time. Luck was with us however. We were able to confirm her move to Lannisport. She must have moved while we were in the under dark. A sea voyage that bordered on a nightmare brought us quickly to the costal town. I must remember to ask Connor about that odd captain and how he was able to secure us passage on such a ship.
A quick stop at the inn for inquiries brought answers but also new questions. Yes our mother was there and she had a new child. But where she was living was a story unto it’s self. The family was living in the home of the town’s recently deceased healer. The healer’s untimely end was officially due to natural causes but scuttlebutt at the inn spoke more of poison. Her death just seemed a bit convenient to me. The other revelation was the name of the healer…Elyse Delmir. The same surname as our companion in the dark. The same surname as the youthful healer that performed that ritual on me in Port Hampshire so long ago. Too much coincidence.
The visit with our elven mother was enlightening. She was one of the thrice gifted. Gifts of Sound, Light and Shadow mingled within her, and I suppose were passed to her children. The children did not fit the council’s plans for some reason *a pause in the script shown by a large blot[/i]* but the mother kept alive, just incase …
She told us of how the Tol guardians had visited her … Lindale was first to warn her of the dangers of the gift. Told her how she was bound beyond will, beyond hope to a darkness that would not cease. Liyalia came next. She told her how after a time the guardians had become bored with the cradle and left in the care of their children, striking out to find new challenges for their gifts. But even as they expanded their knowledge it was not enough, they sought further challenges, never content in what they had. Word came to them of an artifact … an artifact that could challenge their gifts and as a group of three they set off to find it. Deep underground they went, traveling long and had until they came to gates. The gates would not yield to the gifts until… until they discovered its secret. In time they did. The secret was the acceptance of what lay within. Past that gate was the lair of an ancient dragon, the only item left in it’s lair of evil, a crown covered in runes and set with emeralds: The doom of them all.
Alata was last to visit her. She told her of her pride and her lust for power. She told her how the three had battled to possess the crown, how light, shadow and sound had fought amongst themselves to solely breach its wards and how as individuals they failed. In stubborn resolution to conquer rather than fellowship, sound, light and shadow conjoined and in doing so, they breached the crown and sealed their doom. Ever prideful Light seized onto the power of the diadem, it was quickly seduced to it call. Alata used the diadem to augment her own gifts, and battled with her sisters. Sound and shadow withstood the assault for a time, but in the end were overcome. The evil of the diadem seduced them as well.
The end of her chronicle also spelt the end of our cushion of time. Connor wrapped the woman in the weave and bade her and child run. Vas’menier had found them. But the woman’s salvation came not from us, but from none other than the young healer Lithany Delmir. She fought off the assassin, not killing her unfortunately, but she was badly wounded when she fled. Her appearance … what did it mean.. I am not sure. *note in the margin to ask Lar*[/i] Lithany bade us to tell her father about her mother. We agreed. With Vas’menier temporarily vanquished, we helped the elven lady depart and bade her to make her way to Voltrex and the tower of Nature. Surely they will give her shelter.
-
Seersight
Lisse’ I do think Connor has a touch of druid in him. I’m glad he takes such good care of the plant we brought back from the Dark. He asked me to accompany him to the great library to seek information on the other plant we seek, the one that is more delicate than his budding druidistic care can support. Seeing as I love any chance to poke around in books and the great Library is one of my favorite spots, I happily agreed.
The librarian, (Elmil something or other), was most helpful and was able to direct us to a stack or recently scribed tomes on the flora of the Serpent Isles. Within these volumes was some information on a magical plant found to grow in the bridges area of the Isles. Dreamsky; such a pretty name. The illustrations of the flower were beautiful, but the information on it a bit disheartening. Quick to die away from its home, it seems many have sought to preserve it for its magical/medicinal abilities. It is touted to be a powerful hallucinogen used by the Wild elf tribes in the area for sight as well as for its legendary painkilling properties. Seems it also is an aphrodisiac of some note, but that’s likely due to the aforementioned qualities. * a blot of ink here denotes a long pause*[/i]
From what we could gather, only two paths formed in front of us. The first relying on magic.. a magic vessel constructed to preserve the plant and force bloom weekly; Connor found plans for such a device. The second path would be to convince the Wild elves to part with their secret of harvesting the plant at will and the rituals behind it; again possible and a more natural approach.
Your Uncle chose to visit the Tower of the Arcane and seek their advice. Yes Lisse’, another tower of elves. This one was better than the last, but not by much. They made pains to make it clear they considered my /our gift of the weave lesser than that of mages and sorcerers. Lesser they said. Lucinda blesses us with both the ability to shape the weave to our use and to heal and they call our gift lesser? *again a blot on the page denotes a large pause*[/i]
Your uncle discussed the device with one of the Masters. Turns out it will be expensive to make, and potentially very dangerous for your uncle. Connor is no mage, yet he must learn the inner workings of the thing in order to perform the final stage of the ritual himself. The Masters, if they agree to make it, can only do so much. I think we should at least approach the Wild Elven tribes and see if we could persuade them to aid us. *a note jotted on the side of the page reads BRIS?*[/i]
*what follows is an illustration of a flowering plant. White flowers adorn it with eight teardrop petals a piece. The petals are richly textured and even the illustration speaks of sleep to you. In light charcoal beside it are the words …. The magic of dreams*
-
The Magic of Dreams
*many sketches cover the next few pages. All are of two main subjects. The first a man dressed in full plate armor, a dragon insigne on his shield, a glowing long sword in his hand. The other is a shadowy figure of a woman, not quite distinct, but of the same form and build of Katrien.*
My sleep is marred of late. Restless turning alone in our bed as I wonder where Lar has slipped off to yet again. He comes in my dreams Lisse’. Poppa is there, in the world not quite awake. He seems to be reaching for me, reaching for us and at the same time searching. I also see her. I see the shadow Veldrin called. The figure of a woman I once knew as my mother so very long ago. She seems so sad, so lost. She looks at me and I feel despair unlike anything I have ever felt before. I wish I knew what these dreams mean. I wish….
-
Kindred Spirit?
*Quickly scribbled words and notes fill a few pages. Most importantly is the following*
There is another… someone who can feel the harmony around us, who can hear the song of the blades of grass, the lyrics of the wind… Finally I have met someone who can understand. Connor advises caution but I must explore this. She invited me for tea…I think I will take her up on that offer.
-
Dreams or Illusions?
Once again a trip to the Arcane tower. This time they were at least a bit friendlier. The trip was for your Uncle Connor’s sake, I was there I suppose for support, though I think that was for naught. A test of the skills the tower had set him to learn was why we went; to see if he could do it, and to convince the final grandmaster to aid us. What I saw … or what I think I saw was almost too horrific to repeat. Only by a hair’s breath did he pass the test. The effect was *blot*…..
I saw you, my child, in infancy, as a young girl, and finally as a woman. I saw you take a blade to me… I saw the Alata, Liyalai, and Lindale… the dragons were there… Navarre, Veldrin… your uncle’s hand maimed… It must have been a nightmare… Connor assures me it was illusion.
-
Blade in the Dark
Back to those underground caverns once again; this time to aid in the search for a blade. I believe I heard it called the Shadow Blade. The way was marred at every step by Drow. *large pause in the writing* At least these Drow did not seem interested in your Uncle or myself, just stopping the party from reaching some ruined dwarvan city. The battle was well fought, but in the end the plans seemed to be foiled, and some ritual thwarted. It was on the way back … back to Arabel that I found it.
Near the body of one of the fallen, was a short sword. It seemed to crackle with energy. I carefully picked it up and placed it in my pack. I must try to find out more about it, it seems too fine a weapon to be on just any Drow. Sadly there was no time to examine the corpses near by. Perhaps Lar…..
-
Bittersweet
The lights in the house are darkened and Katrien sits quietly on her sitting room couch, a bundle in her arms. Her face is pale from exhaustion and her eyes red with tears as she lovingly gazes down at the dark face of an infant.
The baby’s face is relaxed in sleep and from this vantage one can see how truly unique she is. Her skin is dark like that of her father, but not the same deep obsidian, rather a pleasing dark grey, that shows promise of changing over time. A shock of her mother’s auburn hair frames her elven like features, but it is her eyes that are most startling. Lacking the milky blue eyes of most human infants, Lisse’s eyes are a deep forest green, with just a hint of Drow violet/red at the outer rims of the irises. This baby also lacks the restless ferocity of her Drow counterparts as she serenely slumbers in her mother’s arms.
A soft rap at the door brings Katrien out of her musing. She gently lays Lisse in the centre of her bed and pads barefoot to the door admit her friend into the empty house. She swings the door open to find a helmed and cloaked figure on the stoop and beckons the figure to enter. The sky outside is unnaturally dark and foreboding. Quickly the figure surveys the shadows for watchers, and slips into the open doorway. Katrien returns to her room, visitor close behind.
She once again gathers the sleeping child in her arms and settles on the sofa to hold her baby, a quiet lullaby slipping effortless from her lips.
The figure watches the scene from her place in the shadow. She clears her throat. “Henri’s message was quite clear that I should come immediately”
Katrien looks up from her song, anguish evident in her features. “You, my friend are one of few I trust.” Tenderly she strokes Lisse’s face. “Not even Lar can I trust with his own daughter. If the council were to find a way to purge him like Veldrin, Lisse would stand no chance.” A small tear slides down her face. “He is not even aware of her birth, which I think may be for the best. Tomorrow I set out to Arabel. Connor and Kobal have asked me to join them in some venture. I cannot take her with me, so my dear friend, as one mother to another I entrust you with her care”
A husky voice returns from the shadows. “I see.” The light metal helmet hides what ever expression the bearer might have. “Katrien, my friend I will do as you ask, but even I might fail to keep her safe. I have little skills in subterfuge and stealth. My strength is with the blade, not the shadows. Will you not at least consider the protection Voltrex has offered?”
Katrien tips her head slightly to the writing desk, motioning with her chin for the top drawer to be opened. The figure removes an armored gauntlet and deftly works the latch to slide open the drawer. Inside on the top of a stack of parchment lay several folded letters. One is addressed to the Speaker of Nature.
The hand removes all the letters and holds them up as in question. Katrien silently nods her head in confirmation. The figure scans the names on the others, nodding approvingly to her before tucking them into a pocket.
Katrien sings softly to her baby and for a time it is only the sounds of her voice that can be heard echoing the empty halls of the house. The song is sweet and lilting, very fey in its nature. It seems to warms the air like spring sunshine and one could imagine the accompaniment of songbirds. The infant stirs slightly in her slumber and tiny fists reach out from the blankets toward her mother. The figure smiles as Katrien feeds the hungry child.
“So I am to present her to the Tower only as a last resort then, if I feel I cannot protect her?” Katrien nods in acknowledgment of her friend’s question, before replying. “I do no want my child raised in the joyless atmosphere I found there. Voltrex was beautiful, but I found the towers quite harsh and unyielding.” She continues. “Jharl will aid you, but more importantly, he has arcane abilities and is touched by the harmony of life. He can sing to her, help her with her gift of sound. The others I named will also assist you should they be needed.”
The figure nods at her words, then almost hesitantly asks “And what of Lar? What am I to tell him should he seek me or the girl?”
Katrien laughs a little. “Lar seek you? He is not aware his daughter is no longer in my womb. To him I am off on another of my grand adventures. He’ll be more dismayed that I had the kitchen dismantled than I am no longer here to warm his bed.”
The figure frowns and asks. “When do you expect to be back from your … grand adventure…?”
It’s Katrien’s turn to frown as she replies “Connor did not say what we doing; only that it was important. Our last outings have taken us to the Underdark, and I fear it is there we will be returning.”
“Underdark. You hand me your child to protect from the Drow, yet you plunge willing headlong into their tunnels. I don’t understand you Katrien”
Katrien lays the now satisfied child on the bed and proceeds to change her as she answers her friend. “Someday you will, my friend, someday. I would expect you of all people to understand what a world ruled by Bloodstone would be like, given your … circumstances”
The figure squirms a bit and rises to hand her friend some powdered chalk from the table. “My family is petty and weak; they will rise to whatever banner they feel with benefit them the most. Kensing is a fool, my father and brothers as well.”
No more is mentioned as the two settle into the comfortable rhythm of friendship. At some point in the night they sleep and at the first signs of dawn, Katrien rises and feeds her daughter. She gathers a few things and quietly takes them outside to load them onto Fred’s back. Tucked into the collection of baby items is a small book and wooden flute. Her friend watches from the door, as Katrien grooms and feeds the ox, all the while singing softly to it. The lumbering beast seems to be at ease. Wordlessly Katrien slips back into the house, and gathers her packs and supplies. Amazingly she has altered her dresses so that her form still appears with child.
With a hint of amusement in her voice the friend jokes “Katrien, your skill with needle and thread is amazing, but are you sure that is necessary?” She motions to the dress alterations. Katrien smiles in response. “You know as well as I that men see what they want, and if Connor, Kobal and the others think I am still with child it will avoid any unwelcome questions. It was not that difficult to make with cotton and the new silk padding I discovered. Hopefully we will not be gone long enough for my ruse to be discovered. Connor I think would like to see his niece.”
Katrien gathers the last of her things and extinguishes the hearth. The two friends step into the now bright dawn and Katrien locks the house behind her. She gives a satisfied sigh. “Emily was beginning to harass me for making this place a home instead of a shell of a building. She’ll likely be pleased now that it is mostly empty once more.”
The two move off down the empty Krandor streets; Katrien with Lisse’ in her arms, and her friend beside her with Fred’s lead. They travel past the Shifters tower and follow the safe paths to Fort Hope. The pair travel almost wordlessly except for Katrien’s singing. Her melodies safely envelop them, and eventually they reach the great walls surrounding Port Hampshire. Night creeps into the city as they step out onto the docks. Katrien reluctantly hands her daughter into her friend’s arms. Tears flow freely down her face.
Her finger part the soft blanket covering the baby’s face as she leans to kiss her daughter’s cheek tenderly. “ E ceela aey Lisse’, illa liystir illa E ceela aeum oilanam. Quilnyaa amecc coon iloanam aey amacc. Lucinda illw Az’atta amilannyir eelam aey illa amacc. Io E wel’an maanyml, Seek the Magic” With that she kisses her friend's cheek and hands her another letter. Shoulders slumped she boards the ship, her face wet and crumpled with anguish.
-
Trapped 1
*Firelight flickers around the expansive cavern. In the distance a looming monument can be seen and not far from, a milling of forms. The bodies of Remiel and Reventage lay not far from where they fell at the foot of that great temple structure. Around them, keeping watch and saying prayers are a number of the party members. Katrien sits huddled next to the fire, a warm blanket over her as she writes in a journal.*[/i]
The dark. It is so dark and the air feels like it has not been breathed in thousands of years. Creatures unknown to me walk these jagged tunnels and the climbing. Never before have I climbed so many ropes. My hands are barely protected by my gloves, but it is my body that pays the toll. It feels empty, incomplete without Lisse’s heartbeat in tandem with mine. I carried her for so long she was indeed one with me. What have I done? I may never see the light of day again. I may never see my daughter again. Is this what happened to you Poppa? I told Lisse to seek the magic should I not return. I don’t know why I said that, it just seemed right at the time. Are you somewhere alive, but unable to find your way back to me… to us?
I feel guilty for not telling Connor and Kobal of Lisse’s birth. Perhaps since we are trapped down here I could tell them, but I think it would add to their worry. In some ways it is good that Lisse’ is not with me. If this place becomes my tomb it will not be hers. She will have a chance at life if mine ends here.
I look around at the fine company I travel with, and I feel humbled. All I can contribute is my song. My arrows bounce off these creatures like pebbles against a marble statue. Surrounded by fine healers blessed by their gods, my meager skills seem almost trivial, but still I suppose it helps. Connor seems to be in his element as I watch him send forth magic against these creatures. Poppa perhaps I should have studied harder and followed the path of the mage you wanted for me. Stuffy towers and dusty books seem to have more of an appeal now than they did so many years ago. But I suppose my love for old tales; ancient runes and obscure bits of history don’t really count in a mage’s repertoire of weaves.
My song… *blot on the page* More and more of Mother’s music can I remember now. It grows not only in numbers but in the conviction and strength I can send in my words. Now that I am a mother myself I find my thoughts drifting more and more to her. My only real memories are those that Veldrin stirred that day. I cannot get past the block in my mind that lets the music out but keeps her memory within. Before I left for this tomb I left a piece of Mother’s music with another. I left Jharl a copy of the chant I found in the Legacy. The chant that weakens and, if done with enough skill, kills. I know from my gift that sound is for creation, but part of the process is the return. I cannot be there to protect Lisse’, but maybe in some small measure the chant will. Jharl seems sensible enough to use the power wisely.
-
Trapped 2
[/i]
*Again Katrien is curled under warm blanket and set a bit apart from the group as she writes in her journal by firelight. This time it is not a cavern she sits in, but instead a rough camp has been made in an ancient hall. Hewn stone walls and floors, dusty, dirty and still very dark*[/i]
[/i]
The mystery of this place seems unending. Remiel and Reventage have returned to us through the power Plen channels. They said this death was different that ones they had experience in the path. I’m glad I haven’t passed this world enough to have a firm feeling on what it should feel like. They mentioned seeing a city, then of being yanked back to reality. The also mentioned a cold red eye… the eye being the cause of their demise and perhaps what those wards on he hill mean as to a watcher. Before us stood a door, sturdily made and from what Kobal could tell… the passage beyond…ancient. Across that wretched lake was a cave. Plen flew across for a look and returned trembling. If whatever was over there scared the feathers out of Plen you could bet I wasn’t about to agree we head in that direction. Through the doors and down ancient tunnels we went. Almost as if being dragged along by some unseen force.
Is this a prison? We came upon the diary of one who came before us. It told of attempts to escape, of portals and choices. Why was that one here… by accident as us, or placed in this maze? If this was their prison, what crime must they have committed? Would a prison contain an almost magical forest, colonized by strange beasts, and forested in magnificent trees of mahogany and wondrously, yew? The forest and the lake were a welcome break from the stale air and dark rock tunnels. I would have liked to have stayed a bit longer to study the land. It also seemed to put Connor in a pensive mood. I’ve not told him or Kobal about Lisse’ and so far my ruse has worked. I miss her.
Trapped in this place… no apparent way out… and my Ceela and daughter so far away. My heart aches so much when I think about them. I think of all they are missing with each other and how much I am missing with them. It was never my intent to be away so long. I week or two I had thought. Now it is months. My daughter will have changed and grown so much when I get home…If I get home. Was I wrong to place her in the care of friends and not her father? He too is missing a time in her life that can never be revisited. Was I wrong? Or is Lar following cold trails in the dark searching for me since I did not return when I said. Indeed is anyone searching for us?
-
Freedom.
The sky, the wind and the warmth of the sun. How much I missed these things. Funny, in the many times I traveled to Orlist Orbinn with Lar I never craved the light and warmth of sunshine. Some of out trips there took months as well. I guess I knew I would return home and I had Ceela with me to keep me warm.
Ceela… Lar… How do I face him? How do I explain to Connor… to Kobal…?
I didn’t know we’d be trapped in that maze for months on end. I did it so they would not worry…and now it seems to have backfired on me. Connors’s face was murderous when he discovered my ruse. Thankfully there was no time to talk about it and he avoided me. The entire time we spent in that strange abyss… with the voices… he did not seek me out. He gave me no chance to explain… and I … well upon our strange arrival in Arabel… I took the first ship I could find to get home.
Henri I dispatched with a note for Jacee. The Captain assures me the trip will take no more than 10 days and we sail directly to Port Hampshire instead of docking in Karthy. Jacee… Lisse’… Please Lucinda let them be safe. She risked much taking my daughter in. I only hope I can repay her in someway for this.
Lisse… how she must have grown… what does she look like … does she favor Lar or me or is she unique in looks. Does she have the gifts? Part of me hopes that she is blessed by the Tol, but other hopes it has passed her by so that she is safe from the both elves…dark and Voltrex.
What of Voltrex… did Jacee have to go? Do I now have to plead for my daughter back. I hope not . Still if there was trouble I told her to seek aid at the Tower. Seteece and Gloin would help I am sure of it. They could rouse a fighting force from within their guilds to shame a small army if necessary. Jharl… my once apprentice and now friend, I hope he is channeling that natural ability of his into songs for my daughter.
Ten days… by my count we should be in within sight of land by tomorrow. All will be known… tomorrow.
-
Homecoming
*slowly rocking in a chair, Katrien sings to Lisse’. The room is small and homey, filled with the sounds of family. Jacee is half listening to the song as she works on honing the day’s nicks out of her blade. Jharl is absently composing music to her song on his mandolin while Connor sits in discussion with the master of this house. The feeling is that of fellowship. If you were close enough you would hear*
May Lucinda watch over you today,
May sunlight forever shine upon your face,
May you always be in the path of an angel's flight,
May sweet dreams flow through your mind every night,
May the world come to realize the greatness of your life,
May you overcome obstacles, hardship and strife,
May you wisely learn from all of your mistakes,
May love re-enter your heart in the event that it breaks,
May you never be taken advantage of by anyone,
May you always finish all that you've begun,
May each day find you with a smile,
May your time on the land be spent worthwhile,
May you be blessed to find true happiness within,
May you conquer each loss with a glorious win,
May all of your deepest dreams come true,
May you realize just how much we all care for you.
(Based on the work of Jennilyn)
-
*sits carefully on the chair and pulls a beautiful violin and bow. Sits them beside her and takes out a small silver flute. She begins:*
A seemingly straightforward task; find the source of the earth tremors and the unnatural darkening of the sky. This is what Xora and the Striker of Fear asked of the group of adventures meeting in Arabel on that fateful day. It did not seem too great an undertaking to explore the rumored origins of this disturbance, the area of the Viper’s cave, as this group had been there before on a few occasions.
What happen though was far from straightforward.
*takes up the violin and bow and begins to draw notes. At first they are light and pleasant, friendly and chatting but continue to something deeper, darker an almost rumbling tone*
The first clue that all was not well was the sightings of Black Wizards along the roads to Shadison’s lair. The wizards did not speak, but merely watched the troupe pass by. It spoke of ominous beginnings, as did the continual rumblings of the ground under their feet. Brave they were, or perhaps foolish, to enter a cave with the earth so unstable. Enter they did. The consequence was the floor giving way, dumping them deep with a system of even more caves.
* The notes crack as if to sound the earth opening up to swallow the adventures*
No way back … the passage sealed in the tremors. The adventures were trapped. Was it by fate that this had happened or perhaps…design?
*She pauses, and takes up the flute. The notes are cool and hollow sounding as in echoes of the walls of dark caves. As the note drift to the crowd, she tips the flute away and continues*
Barred from going back, forward they went. Forward and down. For they found that deeper into the ground was the path they must follow going down in hopes of eventually finding a way back up. Caves that were eerily deserted trembled under their feet. Land slides separated them and exposed veins of wondrous ore.
*Again, up goes the flute and the notes become chattery and strained with hints of discord, still pleasant to the ear, but with undercurrents of strain*
Tempers and patience were taxed as they made their way along the dark tunnels. Then a turn of events… One shaft repelled down had its exit in none other than the infamous Underdark. The Underdark may well be a warren of caverns, but it had known exits to the surface. Salvation it seems was found. Nothing is as it seems though.
*lays down the flute and takes the violin and bow again. The music is dark and ominous. The notes pacing slowly as winding their way down dark tunnels only to rise in the fever pitch of battle and fall way to begin again.*
The troupe wandered aimlessly along in the Underdark, battling Drow scouting parties and growing weary. Then, the group under siege from Drow, their backs to a deep rift in the earth… a discovery was made. A rope…their rope perhaps? A rope used to descend into dwarven halls and retrieve pieces of the legendary Shadow Artifact not so long ago?
It seemed a sign… but, the quakes had rocked the ever-changing Underdark as well. Would the rope still lead to its known destination or elsewhere? Two were sent to investigate while the others held off the onslaught of Drow. Time passed… They did not return… Was the signal to descend missed in the battle or had something foul happened to them? Danger present on both sides: the known Underdark, and the unknown rift with two friends missing.
*the notes now turn to that of a climb, careful repelling, hands over hands, hands occasionally offering aid. The notes becoming deeper as the climb goes ever on*
A choice to be made, thus down they climbed. Down in to a seemly ancient cavern. The air cold and stale and, when a hand was reached up, magical barrier… Trapped once more.
*The notes are somber now but still they maintain an air of wonder. Undercurrents of excitement and adventure are mixed with strands of uncertainty*
Now one might think that a predicament such as this would zap the morale of band of travelers. A simple task at the start had turned to a monumental one.
They were trapped in ancient caverns with no idea how to get out. Yes, it would drain the spirits of most, but this group was not most. Among them were some of Layonara’s most seasoned adventures and, truth be told, the mystery of the caverns far outpaced the worries of impending doom. It was a good thing too, since impending doom seemed to lurk around corners in this place.
*Once more the tune turns to that of exploration, rising and falling in chords of seeming chaos only to even into melodies of fellowship and trust.*
There were strange murderous creatures and powerful elementals to battle, frightfully narrow and treacherous passed to traverse. Strange sights as well. A magic portal was found. Those gifted in the ways of the weave determined that it lead not out…., but IN to this mysterious place.
* Notes dark and heavy fill the air, the tempo that of a creeping doom. A dark undercurrent ripples as they spill from the violin as she plays and continues*
Their explorations at last lead them to deep cavern cut in half by a black lake. Fed from a glistening waterfall high in the wall, a deep crevasse had formed into a lake. Structures made by hands, not nature were present. A bridge, old and broken spanned the gorge. On the other side pillars inscribed with odd runes an emanating ancient weaves of divination. A steep descent led to the valley floor and remains of temple; a temple so radiating evil that single glance upon its stones kills. Across the black lake, veiled in mist a cave also warded with rune stones and home to a malevolent presence. Carved into the wall and placed by dwarven hands stood a massive door. A door warded heavily, but by whom?
Again a choice: known evil in the cave or the unknown behind the doors. Our party of friends cleared the many locks and traps that ventured once again into the unknown.
*the feeling of doom eases as the melody becomes almost magnetic, inviting you forward, teasing you to follow along as is lead by an invisible string. Punctuated within the harmonies are the small mechanical sounds of mechanisms released and a hint of both uncertainty and tiny eddies of discord*
Drawn by an inexplicable force they pressed forward and ever downward. The way marred by traps until they were faced with a towering obelisk ringed with kneeling statues, statues that had once been alive. The alien object radiated weaves of teleportation to those who could sense such things. Not only were our travelers trapped, but also the restless souls of shadows patrolled the halls. One such shadow was found trapped in the facets and heart of a brilliant diamond.
The diamond was found paired with a book in crumbling sarcophagus. The book spoke of many things, forests and rivers, trials and failures and of hope. Many things to ponder as the band wound their way through narrow halls to emerge into nature.
* Again, she takes up the flute. The sounds of nature spring forth, wind rustling leaves, water dancing merrily over pebbles in a stream. The warm as spring sunshine after a cold winter, the mood light and airy but with still the background of weariness lifted somewhat. Letting the notes drift away, the tale begins anew*
Nature preserved an ungodly distance below the surface. Devoid of sunlight and crowned in a magical sky, a forest appeared out of rock. A forest that time had somehow forgotten. Or had it?
After months of dark halls, even magical sunshine seemed a blessing. Foraging through the forest yielded encounters with yet more inexplicable beasts and plants and the discovery of a ruined tower reaching into an opening in the rocks. The tower proved to be a means of escape form this paradise lost, for however beautiful it was, it was the not the warmth of home and hearth than months underground had them craving for. A climb up this time instead of down, a step in a new direction and a step into yet another set of choices.
*She tips the flute up and this time the notes spring forth spritely. The seem to march forward as if seeking, and then abruptly pull back on themselves only to begin again. The pattern repeats several times in slightly different variations and as it goes forth you begin to sense a current of frustration. Now and then small spikes of satisfaction interweave within the notes, as do chords of chaos and discontent. Finally the melody builds to a sense of wonder, then it gathers it strands and unites, turning to a conclusion*
Warrens of tunnels ending in lights: the decisions of which to take and which to leave. The leadership and cement of the groups sorely taxed, yet somehow they managed. They managed to solve the riddle if the lights and step into the proper one for it was that light that would lead them forward. Forward to more traps, forward to more tests. The puzzles it seemed were designed to test not only the mental capabilities, but the resolve and fellowship of the group as well. And riddle and puzzle they passed. The passed the halls of levers that had them hoarse with shouting and nerves frayed to very core. The passed the web of tiles which depleted their linguistics skills. Onward to a block of cells where the fate of all could be decided by one. Each leaving that hall with the foreboding sense that they had very near missed disaster. Their captors proved to have a twisted sense of humor as they shivered through the last of the tasks, and once complete they knew.
They passed into architecture glorious in its design and stunning to eye.
Monuments seemingly as old as time itself greeted them as they walked those final steps toward the light; the light that would reward them or forsake them: the light that would pull them forward or send them back to be trialed again.
In unison they walked. In unison they were graded.
* The violin comes up and the music is that of awe and wonder. If seems to ripple with life on the edge of spilling forth, but somehow contained. As the progress, whispers of unknown creep in as voices in the background, voices straining to be heard. The harmonies then twist to something foreboding , as the energy of a storm contained , the underlying voices now stronger in this place in the composition, then once more the harmonies turn back, but anew in sense .*
In a crackle of time and weave they were whisked away; away to an alien landscape, an alien city. They had passed, but into what?
The city stood empty beneath an eerie black sky. Monuments to unknown gods lined the approach to its core. It seems at any moment time might let go its hold and inhabitants would spring forth to fill the market square, or bustle from the doorways of the many homes. The landscape and buildings were bizarre, but yet strangely familiar too. A close examination revealed why. The eastern edge of the city was flanked by blood red waters and shadows whirled and writhed in the air. All around they whispered, called, cried and shouted. Voices tormented and taught those that walked close to the edge of this void. Standing at the edge one could clearly tell. This land, the ground and rock beneath their feet was the same as that which formed the Dragon Isles. Two lands that once were one. This very coast appeared to have been torn asunder from the lush islands ripe with danger so many leagues above them. But why?
That answer lay in prestigious halls high on hill overlooking the city. The marble foyer was a source of architectural awe, as the designs of many races could be distinguished lining it opulent walls. Ahead was a chamber with a most unusual steward. At the base of a throne stood a shadowy figure and to its right a crystal skull that seemed to float in mid air. The fellowship stood at the foot of the dais and asked the questions why? Only the sounds of the shadows could be heard to reply. Fortunately they could be heard, for within the group were two who communed with that at the edge of light. An ancient councilor found. Ancient one cursed. Questions asked and questions answered, a new quest given and accepted.
*Dark and foreboding the tune begins again. The notes twisting in the discord of evil, rising and falling as to punctuate a tremendous battle and then settling down to calm again *
The group set forth once again this time to face that unnamed malevolence that they rightly avoided early on in their trek. The loathsome presence was smited, a ritual unbound and perhaps even ascension to the heavens thwarted, but most importantly a promise kept. Once more to the dais the party went this time to speak in council. Names were given, information received and most of all knowledge was gained.
*setting down her instrument she again picks up the flute and plays. The undercurrents of voices mingle and call almost to the point of becoming whole. The harmonies intertwine and weave a tune of knowledge and discovery, and then the harmonies become light and airy as once more the sounds of nature creep in. Distant are the voices, as the melodies of birds and trees supplant them. Distant but also distinct, they fade and leave the air, the harmony dropping off to one of accomplishment.*
The sundered lands revisited so the shadows could tell their tales. Ancient words and phrases were whispered to all until they could be understood. Once the lands sundered transferred their secrets, our weary family was freed to leave. Weaves of teleportation added them as they were once again able to see the sun and feel the warmth of its rays and breathe air not dank with age and stillness. Here this tale ends, but an ending it is not. It is but a beginning. For much is to come of what the councilor told them. Much that has already begun.
-
There is so much to write about and so little time in which to do it. Lisse’ grows by the day Poppa. It pains me you cannot see it. The comforts of home and hearth are ours yet they hang on a fragile thread. War, while nothing new to this land, has been thrust in to out face. No where is safe. Bloodstone’s minions are on the move. His mages command the very seas and the creatures with them. He has intentions on the Dragon Isles. The unsundered of the sundered lands, they must not fall to him. The home of the cradle cannot be overrun with demons. The home of Sound and Light and Shadow must be preserved. Twice I have answered the call to save them. The first was a fierce battle at sea. Ships of unnatural demons, dead that walked and murderous constructs awaited our swords and spells. That day we persevered, but not before allowing an attack and perhaps scouting expedition to occur on the island, but it was not overcome.
The second more ominous, was at the direction of the Shifter. He gave us visions of the possible paths that lay before us: oppression, freedom, destruction, or far worse of all apathy. He gave directions to our own salvation. Return the necklace of souls to him. Recover it from the void where Moraken followed Xandrial in its pursuit. What ritual he requires this for I know not, but it seems the key to having his aid. He spoke in the language of the shadows so it is my belief as well as others that he too is sprung from those Ancients. He warned of the Sinthar’s fleet and their designs on Roldem. His vision was undefined as to time and intent which caused much disruption in those gathered. *large blot of ink*Fools. They were under the guise the Shifter was being benevolent with his prophecies for Roldem. Why should one such as him wish to tell of this impending doom? He was surely wise enough to know we could not hope to stop a fleet the size of Blood’s. No… there was a more pressing reason…a soul. The soul we had discovered trapped where the Broken One had fallen. The soul tied somehow to that place in Roldem’s kingdom. The Shifter sought to draw our attention to that soul and preserve it before Bloodstone or Xandrial could claim it. Roldem may have its strategic placement as a base for war on Mistone, Dregar and those precious, but invasion as well could cover the intent of gathering the soul to his purpose. Much time was wasted in altruistic discussion but finally Connor was able to bring about some sense. (Small sketch in the margin of an elf dressed in red and a club) With Rhizome’s aid we were able to make a hasty journey to where we had last seen the soul. Blood’s minions were close at hand, but thankfully it answered to the shadow tongue and agreed to come with us. The shadow artifacts Lue carried supplied the proper vessel for which to transport the soul. It was with little time to spare we made it back to Dregar, again grateful for the help of the trees and their protector.
-
Lisse how you grow and how time seems to have flown. Chubby hands and feet that used to flail and punch the air now run about and grab hold all they can find. Two years. It hardly seems a day at times and an eternity at others. Your presence is a smile in our lives. Your have served to soften the edges of that crusty fool Jacee. I see her smiling more than not now, her training set aside to aid Ellen and her husband as well as care for you when I am away. Your presence in the guild hall is always and adventure as I never know what you will be into next as I see to supplies and manage the accounts. It warms my heart to hear the tingle of the chimes Jharl made for you. Your affinity with music is astounding, but then I’ve no recollection of my childhood and no other musical children to compare you with. The short visits your father makes warm my heart as well. It seems time has allowed the fires to cool, but I made my vows and I am true to them in both my heart and actions. His stories amuse you as they ever do me and the presence of the both his and your warmth next to me at night fills my heart until his next visit. He tells me not where he has been and I do not press. You two are my Ceelala. Connor I see less and less of as my business grows .I know he is there by the bareness of my pantry. Keeping pies and cakes around the house is a never ending task. One I happily accept. It is a fair trade for the elven lessons he shares with you and I might add myself when I can spare the time. Lar chuckles at the fact I could learn the Drow tongue with ease but stumble over elven which is so very alike. Perhaps I try to hard. The syllables flow of my tongue like notes to a long forgotten song. There, but not quite there, as if the memory needs to find just that last link to fall into place. Daily I check Poppa’s journal, my journal and I guess yours now too Lisse’. The pages remain as they were. No new melodies since mother’s lullabies graced the pages. No prophetic words of wisdom from which to chart our future. It pains me at times to look at you and know that I have spent with you half of the time I was allowed to spend with my mother. I wonder if she knew. And now, seeing and experiencing the world as I have I wonder if all I have been told is correct. I’ve lost touch with the happenings in Drake. I’ve not inquired after my uncle and his family in years. Perhaps I will have to do so soon. You should get to know your family Lisse’ and maybe I should get to know them better as well.
-
The Telling of the Tale.[/b]
In search of a tale and find a mystery. Such is my luck. I had read about the rare flowers that surround the Arcane tower in Spellgard and how once a year they would bloom to a vision of small angels dancing above them. I wanted to see for myself this sight and at the appropriate time Connor and I made our way to the city of magic. It was a strange group assembled to watch the event. Healers from the Lady’s temple and Ilsares’ as well as that grumpy mage Moraken were there. The healers relayed the tale to the crowd as we waited for the stars to align. They did a passable job with it, but it lacked somewhat in the delivery. Perhaps I will have to take it upon myself to tell it once this mess is over. And what a mess it is. When the arrow of Ilsare’s bow pierced the eight of Lucinda the flowers were supposed to bloom. They didn’t.
The mages present were able to detect a malevolent force holding back the bloom… interfering. They deduced that a show of concentrated intent might push back that force and allow the flowers to bloom. So those of us present joined hands and focused on the love and promise these flowers were to represent. I had thoughts of the love that fills my heart for the blessings in my life; Lar, Lisse’, Connor, good friends such as Jharl and Jacee, my music, my song and of course the magic. Others joined with their similar thoughts I suppose and together two flowers did open.
One was blue, the other red. Above them were not visions of divine creatures, but solid tiny angels. They at first were happy and embraced in the love that they had put asunder to bend to the will of their masters. But then they realized we had not undone what was done to them. We had in fact released them to fight again and they returned to their corrupted forms once more. It was a terrible sight to see two so beautiful, twisted and deformed in their opposite.
Before their corruption was complete they told to search for the way to free them. They told us we had been lied to. That their deaths were in part in vain as the Gods may have set aside their differences, the two summoners did not and they died at the hand of the other. We were told to seek the unicorn, and the paths of the forest high. We resolved to gather and do just that.
-
The Singer or the Song [/b]
I don’t care what others sat Lisse’, Ilsare either draws the vainest of the fools to her fold or she turns them that way. We were gathered to continue our investigation of this disturbance in the tale when who had the audacity to show up but Reventage. She starts talking like she had somehow been elected to be the leader of the investigation, and then she has the nerve to deface the tower grounds by removing some of the sacred flowers. She never stopped to ask if she could take the flowers, she just dug them up and walked away. Who the hells does she think she is? She might be able to pull a stunt like that at an Ilsare temple, but on Lucinda’s grounds? We at least got the flowers away from her, and into neutral hands. I think Rashar was caring enough to repair the damage she did the Tower lawns with her shovel.
That was just the start of the spectacle. On our way to the Unicorn River, Acacea began to hum the tune that sprung forth from the blue flower. It is such a gracious harmony. Full of mystery and vitality, with strands that awe and eddies that comfort, just like the Lady’s gifts. It was Magic. It was such as pleasure to listen to and it seemed to resonate from within that little Halfling that for a time it eased my discontent with Rev and her new champion Athus. Leave it Rev though to mess things up. Not content to just have the blue song filling the air she asked Athus to hum the melody that occurred when the red flower opened. Athus is a much finer healer than singer. It was awful. I’ve heard better catfights. It wasn’t an improvement when Bil joined in. In that case the catfights were a symphony compared to the noise they made. But when Rev decided to sing… Acacea’s melody overpowered the red to such a degree to make Rev look like a bawdy bordello singer *note in margin… maybe I’m not that far off, her grammar, manners and way of dressing and all[/i]* True to form she figured that the celestials didn’t know what they were doing and tried to change the red song . The resulting caterwaul was horrific to the point near deafening. She did this not once but twice. Only by threatening her bodily did we prevent a second disastrous encore. She and Athus actually got offended when Connor made the remark it wasn’t the song that was the problem, but the singers. Ilsare may be the goddess of love, but Rev is the priestess of self-love.
Poor Connor, the blue song seems to have some kind of effect on Alantha. She gazes at him with the eyes of a puppy. It’s almost comical except she somehow has gotten it into her head that I am a threat to her infatuation; to the point of muttering insults and shoving me. I shall be patient with her but wary as well. She is Drow and I know that rivals in anything are not tolerated well. I don’t wish to have a knife thrust in my neck anytime soon out of unsubstantiated jealousy.
It was an interesting[/i][/b] journey through the forest to Legodia’s encampment. The caretaker of the forest was surprised to here that were knew of the “paths of the high”. She told of a legend of a woman who lived in a tower deep in the forest. At one time a kindly benevolent soul, but then in one stroke she turned to darkness. The paths that once lead through beauty to her tower became tortured in shadows. The river boiled black and the images of steeds rose and then fell from its surface. All the unicorns disappeared after that day. She told us that many had tried to reach the tower of the Silvery Witch, but few succeeded. Those that did manage to return returned changed forever. They fell into morose and depression and eventually withered. A sobering thought as the skies opened up to a downpour that halted out progression. I’ll have to do my best to avoid miss high and mighty as well as Alantha until we gather again.
-
Of the Heart
“I need no temple or vows or ring. I am yours for as long as you will have me.”
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Those were the words we uttered to the gods that fateful night almost 9 years ago. A promise I have kept; a promise I will keep. In keeping it you are safe Lisse’ but at what cost to me? Am I destined to find love that is both real and everlasting? Love still fills my heart when I look at you. Love still fills my heart in those moments Lar decides to share his life with me. I have tried over the past few months to share my feelings and doubts with him, but he will have nothing of it and will not even listen, leaving should I even brooch the subject. Does he have his doubts or was he even true to begin with? Have I fulfilled my role as broodmare to the prophecy and he stays only in case my womb is needed again? I wish I knew.
Now to complicate matters even more my heart has been besieged by love of another. A man I should have no earthly reason to like, let alone love. I suspect what he is and yet since our trip here to this tower, the desire I feel when he is close is almost overwhelming. To give into it would be disastrous. I followed my heart once; I am not so sure I should do so again. Can I love both and still be true to my words? Will the temptations of my heart and his dark powers overcome my resolve?
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The Tower Breached
*a second entry written while in the shadow of the tower*
find myself drawn more and more to his side. The touch of the hands that would once repel me now draws me near. His hands are magnificent as he commands both grace of their movement and power in his voice to call the weave to his bidding. When he casts those weaves upon me it is his hands I feel. An intimate feeling such as I have never felt in any other.
And what of this cursed tower? First we labored long to get here, fighting legions of demons. Disabling the deadly traps at the door lead to an interior garden of both magic and mundane. Secrets were discovered in the two antechambers off the gardens. The secrets of one who sought to forge a semblance of life. Immediately evil assumptions were made, but ones not bound in evidence. I found myself agreeing with Rufus *large blot* The guardians of the inner tower proved to be much more formidable than we had thought. Half the party lay slain before the wise decision to flee was made. Thankfully I was able to shadow Rufus with a cloak of weave and tend his wounds as he battled fiercely. Our re-entrance to the tower gave a grisly sight. Our comrade’s remains were no longer in sight as the golems that guarded the garden were strangely familiar. We found there corpses in a pool located within the tower. A pool that absorbed and amplified the weave.. a pool that seemed to be transferring all that they were to the golems in the hall. Rufus and Connor we able to decipher the mechanism and stop it in time, thank Lucinda. Athus healed the damage to their bodies and guided their souls. And now we camp another night outside this tower. At least I can draw comfort from Rufus’s arms around me as we rest and contemplate what to do next.
*in the margin… I saw the body of a unicorn... I wonder if we made a clay sculpture if we could use the device to transfer the essence of that unicorn in to the sculpture…. If so would it be able to tell us what happened? Could unicorns communicate..alas we haven’t a ranger or druid within our party.
(Tower of Strands, take 3)
The previous events have worn Rufus weary. He sleeps so sound I cannot wake him. Perhaps it was for good, since the events of the tower seem to have gone in a haywire direction. I do not even begin to imagine I can understand it all; Magical paintings binding a demonic deva that nearly took our lives, An ancient receipt for gems precious beyond belief, A room with a decomposing unicorn and a trunk containing a horn, A cryptic message about tears in river. All of this is beyond me, yet I will stay fast. If my contribution was any it was preventing Rashar from blowing up the tower and those within it. It is a good thing I sought refuge and the flower while the demon within battled those much stronger than I. The result of the death of that horrible thing was a brief glimpse into a happier past and wedding plans as well as hint as to Narsil’s local. Emily seemed happy, but as I know all too well happiness is but an illusion.
-
*Kat sits on the edge of her bed and gently strokes the hair of a sleeping Lisse’. She sighs and moves to her writing desk and opens the black journal and begins to write.*
It seemed so clear at the time. Our love was fresh and new, and Lisse’ was a product of that love. You were so happy sa Ceela to be a father. The love and the tenderness present in every glance and touch. At the time I both believed and dismissed what you told me about my amulet. It is with a breaking heart that I find I must discover both its truth and the resolve to use it if necessary. Your unwillingness to talk to me has lead to some hard conclusions. The part of my heart that still belongs to you begs that they are wrong.
Kat carefully removes the amulet from her neck to remove the tiny scroll contained within. She copies the script she finds and then replaces the scroll within the jewelry. She murmurs to herself“. Connor will not lie to me. He can tell me if this is what Lar said it was.”
*She closes the journal and tucks it back into her belongings, before curling up beside her sleeping daughter*
-
The search for the other tower with the clues from Emily’s past illusion lead to a strange place. A portal created by all there to a rift in time it seems. What should have been happy was in fact despair. The overwhelming happiness that I felt entering the grove served only to remind me of how fleeting true happiness is. I let the others search for a way in. My talents are unappreciated by the egos of others. Curiosity was the only thing that lead me to the statue and the wonderful song written in its base. Without my aid the door may never have opened, my skill bolstering the mediocrity of both Rev and Acacea’s talents.
]Minaret of Symphony (2)
It seems we have been flung back in time, back to the day preceding the wedding of Narsil and Emily. Guest rooms prepared, musicians and caterers assembled, all seemed well except for the foreboding sense this was but an illusion too. Rufus was not at my side. It would seem that time conspires to separate us. I listened as the musicians played the piece they had prepared as it was the ruse of use being a traveling band of musicians hired for the festivities that gained us entry. The music was of course romantic nonsense on might expect from Ilsare. Still it touched a cord deep within me, strengthening the morose feeling that the tower was pressing on me. Connor and the others scoured the place finding all sorts of enchanting items I cannot begin to fathom. I was content to sit in the gardens among the beauty of nature and compose within my heart.
Minaret of Symphony (3)
found a room I want in our my home. Perfect was the sound in this small room. I think I could play here forever. For the romantic fool Narsil appears, he at least had knowledge in the finer points of civility. His sanity was deeply in question when we found him though. Rev in her egotistical glory shut down any chance of dialogue with her enforced ignorance. The whole process left me weary and hungry. Too bad the others did not feel the same. Forced to share a room with the pie plate scying Halfling was a form of torture. She bought out the cards and wanted to read them for me. She would think I am as gullible as the masses to these subtle forms of enchantment. The cards simply draw on the precepts that affect all lives. Tis one of the first Rules, but I somehow doubt Acacea knows of the Rules.
Minaret of Symphony (4)
Death and demons... the nightmare to the illusion that preceded is what we awoke to. The only bright spot is Rufus is once more at my side since we no longer seem to he held in the past. Decay and rot in a tower left to hate. Connor described a room where Ilsarians devised a bypass to the weave. The abomination of it all! With an insane struggle we made our way thru the tower. The chapel held by the direst of the creatures. Narsil’s room inhabited by a creature I did not see due to my falling to Rev’s foolish behavior. It took all we had to make it to the relative safety of the Library. Once again, the others searched as I was content to browse the literature collection, crumbling as it was. Rufus procured a few pieces for the piano, while Xeen’s fiction found another home within my pack. Savin discovered a diamond and some other things.
Minaret of Symphony (5)
Things become even stranger… as a dwarf is dreamt into our midst. I cannot say he is unwelcome though as we need all the help we can get to fight back the demons that dodge our movements with in the tower. Alantha too has found her way to us, perhaps drawn by the song. I follow and I try to aid where I can. It is selfish of me, but I spend most of my thoughts on Rufus and exploring my feelings for him. The others seem not to want my aid.
Minaret of Symphony (6)
The flowers bloomed, the story retold in an illusion of divination with the circle complete. Perhaps now we can find the song to scribe on the statues that sentinel this place and return it to it’s proper place in the weave. Rufus grows dearer in my heart. Is there yet a spark of goodness to be kindled into a flame? Do I really care?
Minaret of Symphony (7/8)
Trials .
After much discussion, though, discussion, argument and discussion, it was finally decided that Narsil’s room should be searched. The result was death, taint and few new clues. One death was mine. I went to aid Alantha in retrieving Connor and Rufus and fell myself. Strangely I awoke to of all people, Plen.
The results of that search have kept us trapped her in these walls. Rev in her ultimate ego was tainted by some force. Plen removed the taint but in doing so severed Rev’s connection to Ilsare. I do feel a twinge of pity for her, how much a blow this must be to that ego. In the months we have been working on the strange device it seems the Harper of Ilsare does not like her own company and craves the attentions and company of others. The device, I will write a more complete description later when I feel more inclined. Suffice it to say, the large faceted crystal is a means of transforming spell into song. Connor works night and day on it. Rev butts in to “help”. I offer my assistance and understanding when asked or when I feel compelled by an obvious error, of which, with Connor’s analytical use of the gift, there are few.
We had the song to scribe, we had the path home, all we had to do was make it out of that forsaken tower. Too easy to be true. The minions on the lower levels had grown in numbers in our dalliance upstairs. The numbers spewed out by the portal proved to be too much as most fell on the way out. Left were the weavers and one sole defender. Fallen were the healers and Acacea. The solution, to move the portal to stem the tide of new foes. A monumentous task, directing sound through soild tower stone walls to convince a icon of evil spewing to move. True, it was only anchored lightly to the library by Rev’s manipulation of it’s magic, but still a difficult task. Connor aided with his gift. Indeed after this is over I shall have to petion the Chord to grant him bard status as he seems to be able to use the gift of sound with his knowledge of the weave as I use mine with my knowledge to for music and art. We were able to move the portal , but the foyer was still awash with minions. Next was to try and con them into the library as to if a greater curiosity was there and not out leaving. Again we were able to direct sound through solid stone walls and make it move into the room to intice the creatures away. Precious time was bought to allow us to finally escape that cursed stone trap. I really care not if it ever returns to it’s place in time. I just want home. Dragging the corpses out into the light of day was morose. The idea of how to touch their soul in this pocket of time and return them to life was daunting. First I had thought of using my gift as I have in the past, to gather the power of life in sound and call the discord around them back to harmony. The singing in the tower had about done me in. Jharl remembered the horn; the horn that Plen carried. None of us dare touch it. Connor in his wisdom found the way to use it powers and it’s attachment to Plen. Returned to us once more he after rest was able to revives the others. Then it was discovered. Acacea in her foolish attempt for the door ahead of us all had failed in her task to protect the unicorn. The crystal beast with I have to admit I have come to just barely tolerate, was taken from her still body by one of those foul creatures. So in Acacea’s failure, we are stuck here longer and with another dilemma. Once more we must breach those doors and reenter that hell. We must again risk out lives. I would surely leave the thing if I did not feel it was important for our return.
Session 9
We have the think back, kind of. As I sit and write this entry Rufus is moody and pensive. Jharl’s look wavers between blackness and hope as I have heard him mention the words “a son” at least a dozen times. That horrid taunting effigy of the tower sits taunting still and we all gather around the box. The box is not unlike one that exists in a fable; the fable of a man who found a box that contained his greatest wishes and dreams. He toiled for an eternity to gain entry to the box, but once he did he found that life without dreams, when all dreams are fulfilled is not worth living. On that he took his life. The effigy has warned us that to open this box is to do the same. Locked inside is our desire for the unicorn or the unicorn. Which I am not sure. We have lit the buttons to show us our greatest dream. Or have we. Others talked of high achievement or love eternal as being presented to them, but my dream was an oddity. It was an image I had rejected long ago brought forth again, the image of a loving Lar and a loving family life. This illusion of truth I had rejected in the past, so rejected it once again for the illusion it was did not prove difficult. For that was the secret of the dreams. Achievement without worth is nothing. Had the box shown me something I would say was a greater desire I may have had more difficult a time rejecting it. This was simple. It was sad, yes, to face the reality that it is not my truth. My happiness comes from within and is not a product of those around me. It is not a right, but something to be earned. I have earned the right to be loved in my thought and deeds, while Lar has not earned the right to that love in his. As I feel the warmth of Rufus at my side I also am saddened at the realization that this too will fade. The tower has afforded us an illusion of closeness that will shatter once we are thrown back into the truth of reality. The dreams of the box are done with. The imp is taunting us with it’s nightmares. If the key to the dreams was see through the illusions and reject them, will the key to the nightmare be to see past the truth and accept it? I do dread what the next touch of those keys will bring. Nightmares have haunted me for some time. I wonder which it will choose.
Session 10
Courage in facing what you cannot change and going on in the face of sorrow. Some how I knew this would be the night mare I would face. The thought of losing her tears at my very being yet I know I have little to say in the matter. I will lose her either to time or events. I must trust my love has shown her the path she must tread and trust that it will always lead her home again. Nightmares the box unlatches. The effigy of the tower was still taunting as to who would open this Pandora’s Box and accept the fate of the Unicorn within. Acacea has changed so much in this passage of non time. I suppose it is inevitable but the qualities that were once charming have certainly lost their glow. At best she is annoying with only small glimpses of her former charm. At her worse she is a spoiled petulant child, rude and self centered. She speaks with no care of the feelings of others. Her words are crude as is her humor. Yet in all of this she somehow judged herself better than the rest of us and of fewer faults. Even as we came to a consenus that the plight of unicorns should fall equally on our shoulders, she reached and opened the box on her own. It took all of us to free the unicorn, yet it’s fate lies on a small set of shoulders attached to a very narrow mind.The song once again rang from the sentinels, the tower pulled back as the pendulum of time nudged into life. Back to where we started but I fear we pulled a menace with us.
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A Whole New Light
*Kat sits by the firelight open journal on the table and a pensive look on her face.*
There is no life without change. Change is one constant that cannot be ignored. The events of the last week have certainly altered my views of those whom at one time I called friends. I hope my conscious can somehow come to terms with the terrible act I aided in committing. Somewhere there is a sickness brewing; a sickness that I aided in perpetuating without even trying to cure. I can only pray that those to whom I was party in forcing this evil upon never discover this plane and decide to seek vengeance. My sorrow is for them, but also for myself. I passively stood and watched as Triba, Reventage, Vin and Athus condemned countless others to suffer the fate of Timoshev.
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Played the Fool
Poppa it’s difficult to accept that you’ve been played for a fool and that a large part of your life has been nothing but a lie. Sadly that is the case for me it seems. It is so very hard. I look at her innocent face and ask myself why? Why does she have to be drawn into this and really is there any hope at all. It scares me the twinges of disgust I feel, but I know not if it is for her or for me.
Yet in all of this I find my heart once again drawn to the flame. Perhaps this time wisdom will prevail. I should despise him for what he admits he is, but I can’t. I am happier than I have been in years when he is with me. It is the nagging doubt that he will be like all the other loves in my life and abandon me when I no longer amuse them or serve their purpose. I can see a spark of hope in him. Then again I said the same thing about Lar and was played the fool.
It would seem that Connor and I have drifted apart. We share a house yet seldom do we talk. When we do talk it is generally in angst about something. It is time to move on again. I cannot make him see the cold and arrogant creature she is; that his affections will be tossed aside as her track record with Rhizome has proven. Who will be her next Remiel? Will he serve as stud to further her brood as the strange elemental did. I’ve even heard rumors that things are still intimate in that relationship even as she courts my brother. Some lessons are best learned in other ways so I guess I will leave him to live his life while I try to make some semblance of one for Lisse’ and I. A new home, a new start, a new chapter in our lives is about to unfurl. Thankfully I still have friends to rely on. Jharl has filled the void that Connor’s absence has left. He has been a rock of support in all of this. Several old friends have returned much to my delight; Mikey, the lovable man with a giant sized heart and the enigmatic bard Perago and his wife. I have come to view Derrick an Enzo as close friends. I often wonder what might have happened had I taken Enzo’s flirting seriously those many years ago. Bris remains steadfast even though I don’t see her nearly as often as I would like. It seems she too has found love again. I am happy for her.
Love again? Is there hope? Poppa I wish I knew. I can only follow my heart for as foolish as it might sound, that is where my magic lies. I sense a new beginning yet also a new pain. Strife and sorrow fill the songs that echo in my head, yet deep within there resides a touch of hope.
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A Visit and a Story
*shortly after dinner time, there is a knock on the door of 108 Hlint. Kat opens the door to find Connor standing, holding a box.
"I hope I'm not too late for dessert," he says grinning. "Always in time for pie, eh brother?" winks Kat as she motions him inside. "Of course," he smirks as he steps in the house, giving the wards a polite nod. *within seconds he is nearly bowled over by a rambunctious Lisse'* "Uncle Connor!" screams Lisse' in delight as she powerfully hugs his legs. He holds out the box. "This is for you, Lisse'"She opens the box with wide eyes to find it filled with fresh raspberries. She quickly stuffs two small handfuls of berries into her mouth before taking the box and running off to the kitchen to finish the rest, completely ignoring her mother's calls to eat slowly or she'll get a stomach ache. *Grinning in amusement, Connor and Kat follow to the kitchen and sit and chat a bit while Lisse' goes about finishing off the raspberries.* "Did you just come to bring me raspberries, Uncle Connor?" her eyes and face in a hopeful expression. "Of course not! I also came to read you a story before bed," he replied. "But it's still early! I don't want to go to bed now..." she pouted. Connor grins, "Well then, we'll just have to play for a while then."
*Lisse' giggles in delight, wipes her hands on her dress and runs off to the family room. Kat sprang up quickly and stopped her, insisting that Lisse' was her hands properly before playing. Lisse' protested half-heartedly washed her hands and went off to the family room. While Kat composed a new song, Connor entertained Lisse' with games, a few stories and some illusions of animals that seemed to spring from cushions in the couch, run all over the room and then disappear into the bookshelves.*
*After a while, it was time for bed. Kat took Lisse' upstairs while Connor cleaned up a bit from their games. When he was finished, he went upstairs to find Lisse' ready for her story. Connor sat next to her bed and began to read the book he had brought...* -------------------------------------------------------- "Chimera" // the book is illustrated. Each break below indicates a new page with a different picture Long ago, there lived in the forest a young girl named Kailee. She was a pretty, smart and talented girl, but she always wanted to be better. Better clothes, better toys, better than her friends, better than she was today. She wanted to be perfect. One day she was out walking and saw a falcon flying overhead. "I wish I could fly like the falcon," she said. A short time later a fox ran fast across her path and disappeared into the forest. "I wish I could run fast like the fox," she said. Down the path, she saw a squirrel run up a tree. "I wish I could climb trees like a squirrel," she said. Suddenly, a voice behind her made her jump. The voice belonged to an old peasant woman. "Why do you want to be like the creatures of the forest, my dear?" the woman asked. "Because they're better," answered Kailee. "and I want to be better too!" The woman reached into her satchel and pulled out a gnarled stick. "This is a magical stick," she said. "When you see an animal you like, point the stick at the animal and tell the stick what you want." Kailee's eyes lit up. "Ooohhh, a magical stick!" she said as she reached for the stick. The woman pulled her hand back before Kailee could grab it. "But, be warned. The stick will only work 10 more times, and after that, you'll be that way for good." Kailee nodded. "Ten times. Thank you lady!" and she ran off into the forest. Kailee soon spotted the falcon again. She pointed the stick to the falcon and said, "I want wings like a falcon!" And POOF! She had wings that carried her through the air. Another fox ran across her path as quick as anything. "I want to have fast legs like the fox!" And POOF! She had legs like a fox that carried her quickly along the ground. She spied a squirrel and said, "I want to climb trees like a squirrel!" And POOF! She grew claws on her hands like a sqirrel. Kailee ran through the forest pointing her stick at animals and saying "I want this..." and "I want that..." ...the nose of a wolf... ...the eyes of a cat... ...the teeth of a lion... ...the fur of a bear... ...the tail of a tiger... ...the ears of a rabbit... Before she knew it, the forest grew dark. "I need to get home!" she said. "Mama and Papa will be worried!" And so Kailee ran off home. She got there very quickly because she was quick like a fox. She smelled dinner cooking before she could see the house because she had the nose of a wolf. She could see in the dark because she had the eyes of a cat. She ran up to her door and went inside. "I'm home!" she exclaimed with joy. Her parents turned around and screamed! "GET OUT! OUT FOUL CREATURE! BEGONE FROM OUR HOME!" they cried, as her mother swatted at her with a broom. Out she went as fast as her fox legs could carry her. Kailee walked to a stream and sat down on its banks. She wrapped her arms around her legs and buried her face in her knees. "They didn't recognize me," she cried. "Mama and Papa didn't know who I was." She lifted her head and realized why. For the first time, she looked at her reflection in the stream. She looked like a monster with a falcon's wings, a fox's legs, a squirrel's claws, a wolf's nose... ...a cat's eyes, a lion's teeth, a bear's fur, a tiger's tail and rabbit's ears. Kailee didn't even recognize herself. She cried softly, clutching the magic stick in her hand. Through her tears she said, "I wish I was myself again..." And POOF! She was her old self again. Kailee threw the stick into the stream and ran back home. She burst through the door and hugged her mama and papa tightly. She was already perfect the way she was. -------------------------------------------------------- "Read it again, Uncle Connor," Lisse' whispered. Connor read the story again, but this time, she was asleep before Kailee even got wings. Connor closed the book and set it down gently on a small table. Rising as quietly as he could, he kissed Lisse' on the forehead and said, "I love you, Lisse'. Sweet dreams." He then turned and walked silently from her room, closing the door quietly behind him.
*He talked briefly with Kat a few minutes more, telling her to let Lisse' know that the berries are in season, and that she should come by soon to help pick more, before the mean ol' ogres eat them all. After a brief exchange of farewells and hugs, Connor walked out the door and into the cool Hlint evening air.*
-
*Katrien lounges on the cushions of the dais in front of a roaring fire. Open on her lap is her journal, the ink of a new entry drying on the pages. The flames flicker and dance on the walls of her new home. To the side a child sits playing at the piano, practicing scales and simple melodies as her mother listens. The girl’s face is beginning to lose the look of childhood and evolve into that of a young lady. Dark skin that has faded to pleasing grey, a mass of auburn curls frames her face and complement violet eyes. The talent of the girl is obvious, as is love of the notes she plays. Katrien smiles and compliments her daughter’s efforts and returns to her writing.* Apreal , 1397… 21 years… have they have flown by. It sometimes seems like only yesterday I arrived in Hlint as a naïve 17 year old girl with no real plans or aspirations besides finding a meal and safe place to sleep. Illusions of adventure crowded my head at the time and I must admit I found it fun risking life and limb in those early days to steal a few branches of hickory from under the noses of Orc, or chant insults to Ogres from behind the backs of warriors. Assisting in the recovery of Ronus’s nephew was my first real adventure, though I mostly just tagged along to see what would happen and perhaps gather a good story. A chance meeting with a willful young druidess, her charming companion and their adopted son has left me with a lifelong friend in Brisbane. I stood with her on the day she said her vows to Plenarius and even as time has passed and they are no longer together I admire her spunk and her willingness to say what she thinks, even if she comes across a bit abrasive at times. Tom has matured and moved on, while Plen’s duties to Katia took him away from Bris’s side. Recently she has hit a crossroads in her life with the events of her mother’s doing. I will help her in any way that I can.]The days when bantering and adventuring were my main concern ended with the appearance of the Lairilweki twins in Hlint. Marked by their poison and then chosen by some gift of the ancient T’oleflor race, I am but a pawn in their schemes. Lisse’ is proof of their treachery, an innocent created by my naïve notion that love and kindness could overcome. It has not all been misery though. Through these events I have forged many bonds of friendship and one of family. Connor I hold in my heart as the brother I never had. We are similar is some ways. He commands the weave not though mysterious phrases and subtle gestures, but with a force of inner will the weave works for him. It is much like the threads of harmony I see fleetingly and knit to patterns for my needs. Kobal has become a fast friend as we work together to find a cure for this poison that hangs over all our heads. We have traveled through much to gather the things we need. We now wait I think till the time is right for the wolf to be called. Kobal’s time has been sorely taxed with the recent events of the Crescent Moon and Shield clan. The ballad of such lies half finished on my desk, the recent move taking my time from it. I was honored to help in their plight, but I shudder to think of the vileness of the once Thane continued but the world is now one bloodpool less. I wish I had endeavored to learn a bit more dwarven from Gam, but my repertoire of dwarven battle cries and drinking songs has improved. I hope someday to find a dwarven bard to teach me the songs I really wish to know of that race; the ones of the stalwart nature and fierce family pride that I see. The façade of rudeness and vulgarity really doesn’t suit the inner pride I have discovered in those few dwarves I have come to hold dear. The dragons… My curiosity piqued I have managed to see the dragons of this world… well most of them. My skills were of little use for negotiating, but still traveling with those sent to forge an alliance with the dragons was thrilling even if I am just now, 10 years later, beginning to understand some of the things I saw and heard back then. Blue, Green and Black those were the ones I was able to glimpse in the negotiations. The prize of it all though was the spectacular trip to that unknown place, some plane I know nothing about and see the magnificence of the metallic dragons. Their majesty is breath taking and I for one am proud to have been among those to escort their hatchlings into this plane and world. I hope they have fared well as I’ve not seen nor heard of them since their release. ]The experience with the Dragons and the lessons I have learned from my Drow dealings have made me pay more attention to what is going on in this world. Information on the past and the present can be hard to come by. Many of those who know keep things close to their breast thinking that only their peers can be worthy of knowledge. It is this hoarding of knowledge that leads me to become more active in world affairs and lend my bow, voice and quill to aid when needed. Little did I know the sacrifices that stance would take as I missed the first four months of my daughter’s young life trapped and tested below the ground. The Ancient one told us many things, the voices of the sundered lands more. In some ways I am richer for the experience but I would have loved to have seen more of Lisse’s infancy. Still, I came away wiser for the experience and hopefully it will make a difference in Lisse’s world. I also made sure to tell all the tale in both word and prose. I also used the wisdom garnered to prevent the loss of that mysterious soul I helped free on the sundered isles. If not for Connor’s and my badgering I really believe Ilsare’s cleric would have left it to mercy to Blood’s forces as they overran Roldem in those dark hours. ]Roldem…I feel for the loss of its beautiful cities and the scourge of its countryside. Its populace is decimated but at least now with our help, it is once again free of the demons that ravaged it. I was there for the reconnoiter of its plight and there for guerilla attacks on it’s defenses. I stood with my dwarven companions to hold the docks and hills as others disabled key defensive positions. ]I look back on it all and wonder. I wonder where I found the time to perfect my tailoring. Where the drive came from to turn my hand from quill and flute to the intricacies of gem cutting and the precision of alchemy. Somehow I managed to create a business and a name for myself. While my creations are not as well known as those of the larger trading guilds it still provides me a means to support myself and pay for Lisse’s tutors. Even more important than the financial gain are the friends and allies I have made along the way. Jharl is much more to me than the apprentice I took on some seven years ago. Connor called him my substitute brother, but he is no substitute. He is as much an Uncle to Lisse as Connor and in fact I do view him more as family; brother is a good word. The Leilon Arms has been an immense factor in my success. Derrick, Enzo as friends and the many contacts I have made with the new waves of adventurers serve to make each merchant night a worth while experience. Then there is Lisse’s third Uncle. A giant heart to match his size and a spirit to teach my daughter that being different from the rest of the pack is no sin. Mikey was my first friend in Hlint and he is now my daughter’s giant protector.I think of this new house in Hlint and finally my independence. More space has meant that finally I can have a room to myself to devote to my studies. I have heard rumors and read lore of an archaic group that much like me used music to tease the weave to their needs. The tower in Spellgard snubs me as having lesser gifts and refuses to admit those like me into their ranks. My knowledge of the weave and how the harmonies of sound affect it are mostly ignored. Some times I would like to scream in frustration as mages in their self sanctimonious manner spout off theory and ignore what I can call forth. ]Most call me a Bard but then they see the stereotype of performer on the stage. The Chord exists for those of my fellows who see this as their calling. What of the enigmatic Ozy? His is a calling of intrigues and lore; a recorder of histories and events with an ear for music and an appreciation for its intricacies. I see my calling as somehow different. My love is for the song but not the lyric; the sheer ability to tease sound into the call of a bird or the whisper of wind. Sound creates, that my gift has taught me. This I feel a need to explore, a need to expand my music to do more with the weave. I want to understand this group that was once heralded as Spellsingers and their Spellsongs. Why are they no longer prominent in our world or are they merely secretive and elusive? I was there when the Ancient Library rose and even though I dread treading on Voltrex soil, many an hour have I spent in its halls. Perhaps the answer lies within the tomes I have yet to uncover. Perhaps it lies elsewhere. I too have yet to solve the riddle Poppa left me with all those years ago. Seek the magic he said. I still wonder what he meant. Did he refer to these singers or something else? I have devoted myself to Lucinda in his memory, but have become disillusioned with those that hold office within her temples. Then there is the mage that has captivated my heart of late. It may only be the fleeting effects of the Deva’s song or perhaps it is the magic Poppa spoke of? I would indeed like to know where Poppa went that day and why he has not returned. My heart tells me he walks with Lucinda and with my mother, but still a piece of me holds out that he may yet hold his granddaughter and feel her lilting laughter lift his heart. *again Katrien looks up to Lisse’s music as the warmth of the fire dries the ink on the pages. She smiles at her daughter and closes the journal. Opening her arms to an enthusiastic cuddle, the two snuggle in front of the hearth as Katrien picks up a child’s book to read aloud. The tale is a wise one about a little girl who wishes to be different until she discovers she is loved just as she is. *
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The Port Hampshire Lighthouse * A crisp vellum parchment scribed in a flowing tailored style that is both functional and pleasing to the eye, is received by the administrators of the Libraries of Blackford Castle, The Aragen Temple in Rilara and the Great Library of Voltrex.*
Be it known that in the autumn of the year 1398, the lighthouse of Port Hampshire ceased to function for a brief period of time. When the dimming of the light was first noticed, the port authority contacted a group of Mistone adventurers to investigate the cause of the malfunction. It is surmised that the authorities themselves were incapable of overcoming their fears of the sounds emerging from the lighthouse basement to investigate it on their own. The working mechanism for the light was found embedded in a maze of tunnels beneath the building and well warded and guarded by golems of various descriptions. The basement also contained various elements of undead creatures and perhaps the souls of sailors lost at sea. The directions to the working chamber are laid out on the enclosed appendices. The mechanism to open the door and pacify the guardians seems to draw energy from the light, thus any dimming should be thoroughly investigated before the light dies out, lest the wall not be able to be opened. The proper combination for the levers show in Diagram A is Green, Red, Yellow, and Blue. The levers are to be pulled in this order. Inside the working chamber one will find a control panel on the far wall and four crystal shards matching the colors of the levers. Diagram B is that of the room layout. The control panel is an odd device. Centered on the console is a block of moveable buttons. These buttons are outlined in Diagram C. The device is the workings of a Halfling inventor by the name of Ragriappi. Be it known this individual is quite insane, even by Halfling standards. The crystals are representatives of the four leading elements. In their color representative order they are Earth (green), Fire (red), Air (yellow) and Water (blue). As you will note from Diagram B, the placement of the crystals is important. The placement also represent in what quadrants of the world map they may be located should the replacement shards fail in the future. Red in the northeast, Blue the northwest, Green is southwest, while yellow in southeast. Giving the exact local these shards may be located is difficult as they are in the care of primal elementals of each representation and as thus they are prone to shifting. They were gathered from the following locales by this adventuring group. Red was gathered from a cave of fire elementals in the peaks of Firesteep on Molten Island. Green, collected from earth guardians in the approximate location of the mountains on Enderal, of the Dragon Island chain. The yellow was watched over by air guardians; near the swamp of reawakening of Kingdom of Roldem’s island Talimar. The final blue shard was in the care of water elemental on the Northern Islands of Bastil or what is commonly referred to as the Barbarian Isles. Be wary of traps, illusions and puzzles set forth by these guardians of the shards. To obtain a piece of the mother crystal one must prove their worth to the caretakers. The crystals must be in place before the control panel is reset. Take care to make sure the power lever located to the left of the control panel is in the off position. Should you have a dwarf manning the lever, make doubly sure it is off. The combinations of letters are in fact the words Earth, Fire, Water and Air spelled out in the Halfling language. Contained with the maze of letters is the word LIGHT. Revolve the letters to the correct spelling, and then depress the combination of letters to spell the word light, turn on the power switch to reactivate the shards.
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An Unnatural Song
I had a chance meeting with my dear friend Brisbane while picking berries around Corax Lake. She beseeched me to join her in the hunt of the rift for the source of some unnatural bird song that was causing nature great distress. Of course I said I would help in any way that I could. I could not have known what the consequences of that decision would be. We did indeed find the source of the song. The trip through the rift was taxing as it took much of my skill to counter the cacophony of that song. Weaving a song to counter the discord was difficult but I am glad I was able to help in that fashion. The source was a golem bird hidden deep in a lair in the rift. The bird was obtained as well as a few books from what appeared to be Drezneb’s own private sanctuary abet an abandoned one. I am curious as to why now this bird began to sing and none could offer an explanation. I picked a tome or two off the floor for later reading. I really do not think they offer much, but they will help my growing library. Bris tried to extinguish the song of the bird by destroying it, but fund she could not. Thankfully the thing would not sing in darkness. A strange book found one wriiten in ancient elven and recent common. One with pages seen only with the use of a weave of sight. The images of the Forsaken Islands. Is this where Drezneb has hidden his weak point? Does his phylactery lie on that pool of evil? A visit to first Moraken, then the seilwood witch yielded little. However a discussion with Ozlo yielded much more. A staff to be sought, one of power fueled by the souls of others. The staff and the bird together, open a portal to the islands. Staff , bird and portal… locks and keys. Lalaith and her ways of mystery along with her new shadow Plen were able to recover the ruby topped staff from it hiding place it in the Demon Mountains. Ozlo wanted it for his own… it holds the souls of many within it grasp I only hope that Ozlo has the good sense and will to deal with it appropriately. The ritual described on the pages complete indeed we had a portal open. Thank goodness Bris had the place of mind to fly to Spellgard for protective rings against the negative flows of the island. Stepping into that swirling vortex of magic was indeed a leap of faith. I knew not then if I would be writing this now. By the grace of gods we survived that hole of hells and even managed to find the phylactery of the beast himself. Some fell, me included as a piece of my soul lies impaled on those forsaken islands. Back thru the vortex of magic to the safely of Dregar and my part of the tale ends. Bris, Plen, Lala and Talan carried the crown and staff forward as promised. I collapsed with Connor, exhausted from the ordeal but satisfied that harmony had once again returned.
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A Task Complete
*in bold strokes is no long complicated tale simple a few lines of words that convey much*
Eon and Drezneb are vanquished; the pools of blood lie pure and cleansed as the rifts collapse.
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A Journey into Sound
*Poised at the table in her room at the Hotel Layonara, Kat sits red eyed and pensive. The bed is rumbled in appears in sleep that would not come. The air around her is sober and heavy as she writes in a firm hand* ]Dezare: a voice of music, the harmony of life not flowing around her but almost from her. Her very breathing, her every movement seemed to be directing it.
How had she heard of me? Why me and Poppa how did she know?
Trust in your Heart , Trust in your Heart, for it will show you the path of Love. I've walked that path... ...though ever so ...so painful. So lonely.
These were mother’s words or your words, but they were words in this diary that can only be read by me. How did she know? I wish to the heavens I had had this book with me. Though I don’t know if I would have thought to place it in her hands to see if the latch would open for her. Mother had said “The time for Sound and Magic is now” but Dezare in her dying breath said “The Time of Sound and Magic wanes and waxes”.
What was it that was sapping the vitality from this beautiful creature? What was drawing the life from her and in end took her and her gifts from this world?
The consort of a King if not in title but in heart; May the peace they lacked in life find them in death.
*the following is a musical score. It is both simple and complex with multiple layers of sound interweaving to initially produce a feeling of overwhelming calmness and peace, building slowly to a tempo of quiet confidence with a inner aura of vitality and goodness, then it climaxes to strong presence of a champion and protector as it slowly winds back down to a twilight of accomplishment and peace* Two camps of advisors stand divided. One full of hope and confidence, while the other in fear and anxiety. A look at one may divide a world or unite a destiny. Who is to say who will rise to the reigns of powers, the daughter of a king or the son of a princess?
Something ended them before their time. Something haunted their steps long before it drew life from them. Did it do it in unison of design or did she sacrifice her life in hopes of continuing his? Who would ends the reign of a regent in this manner? The healers and divine decreed no trace of evil. If malice was not involved then what?
*the quill rests her as Kat reaches for apiece of parchement to scratch out a list*
- The lines of Nobility… who stands where and what of the true line of Kings? Where was her home? Who was she in life? - Bris wishes to visit the grove and talk to the animals to find out what they know - She needs a place to rest. Make sure she is given dignity in her death.
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*The house is a disaster around her. Many colored ribbons of lavender and white stream from the beams of the old building as the remains of illusionary animals flicker and dance on the walls. The fire burns low in the family room hearth as a dozen young girls feign sleep poorly under the cover of giggles and whispers. Katrien pretends not to hear the chatter as she sits with a candle on her piano and records carefully in her diary. At her feet is a small black ball of fur curled tight into a circle* Mikey was kind enough to let me use the portal in his Pranzis house to return for Lisse’s birthday. How ironic it is that major events in my life seem to cluster around this date. Today she turned 11 years old. In a few weeks time it will be 11 years since I stepped into that hole underground. In two weeks time I will be 33 years old.
Today was a good day. Full of fun and laughter as it should be. The children of Hlint accept my daughter as one of them. She has playmates that truly are her friends. In time I know many of these relationships will fade, but perhaps amongst the giggling worms on my floor lays a soul mate for daughter. Nothing is a precious as friend whom you can pour your heart out to. ]Connor arrived in time to amuse the crowd with his illusions as Jharl and Mikey did their best to entertain with song, story and general horseplay. Lisse’ has the ring Jharl gave her on a ribbon around her neck. Thank the gods she’s yet to figure the spell locked in it. I doubt it will be long though before she does, inquisitive as she is.
She has the best of some things and the worst of others. Her features are fine and elfin not round like mine. Her hair is more the color of burnt copper with the odd streak of her father’s white running from her left temple. The eyes are mine I must admit, the color of emeralds but more almond shape. It is her skin that worried me the most as a babe. She was a most unusual grey skinned baby. Not a grey of sickness but a rosy grey if that can be imagined. In time I am pleased that it has faded to porcelain pale. The hint of Drow in her is only the white streak in her hair and the fire red glow that haunts her eyes when she is angered. Her temper matches her hair I must admit, but them so does mine.
My gift to my daughter on her 11th birthday was simply a plain black diary. I had it bound in wyrmling hide and embossed in gold for the occasion. Now she can record her thoughts as she makes the steps from child to woman. Inside there is the celestial music her uncle Veldrin taught me so many moons ago. I name the piece The Flight of Fox and Wolf. She cannot of course play it yet but she is becoming rather adept at some of the simpler passages on the flute I gave her last year for her birthday.
We also welcomed into our homes the newest addition to out family. Jacee brought Lisse a panther cub she found abandoned in the Seilwood forest. I don’t know whether to hug or hang my friend for her gift. Lisse has been after me for years for a pet, but I have been able to put her off until now. A very large kitten we now have. Jacee in her wisdom reasoned that the care of the creature would be a good responsibility for Lisse’. She also gently reminded me that she needs company and a confident now that my responsibilities take me farther a field. She is my best friend. Some times I envy and am jealous of her. She spends almost as much time as I with Lisse. Some times I fear it is more than I. This business with Dezare and the regent will again pull me from home. I cannot ignore it.
Jacee says she see a touch for the weave developing in Lisse’. The child is curious beyond belief at all the things in my study and I have changed the locks and wards as dozen times to keep her out and safe from accidental harm. Her tutors tell me similar tales of both pride and frustration at her inquisitiveness. She lapses from Drow to Elven to Common in a heartbeat. I have caught her dancing with a wooden sword in the shadows of her room. I want her to grow and find the forms of happiness that have eluded me. I want so much for her that it scares me some times. It scares me. Much like the nightmare faced I know I can do nothing but give love and guidance and trust in her to find her way. I wonder if anything other than the gifts of sound flow thru her.
*a pink mouth yawns and the feline stretches and gets up to pad quietly across the room to curl it’s warmth into the now sleeping Lisse’. Unconsciously a small hand curls a round the panther cub as the two settle into sleep. Kat put her diary aside and closed the latch, sealing it from prying eyes. After blowing out the candle, she quietly gets up and gracefully makes her way around the dozen sleeping forms on the family room floor, before wrapping a warm blanket around herself and letting the comfort of the fire and the couch lull her to sleep*
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Too long have I neglected to write you Poppa, far too long. So much has happened in my life; much that I am ashamed of, and very little that I am proud of. [/SIZE] <font size="3" />
I met a friend of yours. Sad it was that we should meet like stars passing in the night sky. Her star was fading to the horizon as I wandered into its path. I still do not know how she knew where to find me; to call me. Find me she did. I was witness to the end of an era, an end of peace, and end of justice, and end of so much that I had foolishly held as constants in the world. Sadly I now know just how wrong that is. For all that King Waylend was not, he was an honorable man who did his best. Poppa I think you knew this didn’t you? The image I saw of the bright Mitral armor. That was you as the King’s guard. The priest at the temple told me of you and the Lady Dezare. How you were at both her and the king’s side… how you were there the eve that her daughter… the King’s daughter came into this world. That means that you were alive Poppa… Alive and in Dregar while I was finding my way in Mistone. I can only trust that it was duty that kept you from me, for somewhere in my heart I can feel your breath of life.
Perhaps you know of the tragedy that has befallen the great city, indeed the entire continent of Dregar. With the King dead and the seeds of discord sown, it was ripe for the harvest by Bloodstone. Perhaps I could have shouted louder, sung stronger… yelled more, but I doubt I would have made a difference in Pranzis’s destiny. I truly feel that the destiny of Pranzis was written in the stars and only a true miracle could have saved it. I tried Poppa, I did. I tried to save the Princess and the city. I was but one voice in a sea of voices spoiling for battle. There would be no treaties, no compromises, only the call for one more Battista against an army. As I fled the city in the wake of what happened I was ashamed of myself and what little I had done for your city, her city and how I had failed her daughter in her time of need. It would not be the first failure. I read Dezare’s diary Poppa. The part she pushed aside and tried to bury. I saw the pain and the pride. I saw how it hurt her to step aside and not claim Kayana as her own. She gave her only child as the future of a country and I let her down. The princess was taken under my nose. While I was licking my wounded pride she and her love were taken. What was done to her is too horrid to write. Though I know Poppa that you likely have some idea as to what the Drow can do to the mind while leaving the body intact. I learned some hard lessons. It is difficult to tell who your friends really are and what deep down they think of you until placed in dire circumstances. I learned that Kobal regard me as a pretty face and voice but little else. He had no faith in my judgment or my abilities. Freldo when faced with adversity turned inward and the selfishness came glaringly through. Alantha in her temper could not hold her tongue but her daring is to be commended as she and Jharl could have saved themselves after Kobal’s rock broke our illusion and led to our capture. Jharl has as always remained a steadfast friend and as I found in that time of adversity, Jaccari is someone I will always consider a friend.
And I walked into a ploy. I played into Broegar’s hand. Poppa I felt I had no other choice. Perhaps I could have saved myself and those in my cell by fleeing. I could not leave her. Not with still a glimmer of hope for her survival could I leave the daughter of a friend; my friend and your friend. I know what it is to face the sacrifice of a child for the good of others. I give thanks each day that Lisse’ did not come to that. I would not, could not leave her. In that perhaps was my failing. Broegar had killed her mind by not her spirit. It was that day on the gallows when he called for the axe on her love’s neck that finally broke her. I could not hold her, I could not protect her, no song could I sing but one of mouning. The Dirge of Life was sung that day and the days that followed.
Follow the days did; one bleak cold day after another. If I regret what I did not do for the Princess, I regret what I did not do for Lisse’ more. I have always tried to shelter her from the harshness of this world. I have not told her of Lar and how she came to be. She knows that she is Drow. I can no hide that from her as her very skin gives it away. I was not there for her when the questions of this world came to her mind. I threw myself into my work to try and forget the things I had and had not done. In doing so I wronged the one most dear to me. She feels I abandoned her. She is right. I did abandon her to my sorrow. I see that now. I only hope that there is time to make things right. In my sheltering her, I forgot who and what she is. She is your blood; she is mine and regretfully some of Lar’s as well. What was I thinking that I could keep her off the path of adventure? A mother’s blind spot I suppose. All I can do now if offer support and pray that the Soul mother takes no interest in her follies until she is done with mine.
What happened with Kayana did serve to reinforce one thing to me. Battles are not won entirely on the blade of a sword. Battles are won in the minds and hearts of those that fight them. Poppa I have not given up. I work each day that I may be ready. My Voice is strong and if I am proud of one thing, it is that I discovered the Voice inside of me. Perhaps that was the Magic Poppa that you spoke of, the magic that has been growing within me all along. There are as I have found many types of magic. Someday I do pray that we should meet to discuss them.
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“If I never have to deal with another pompous , mule headed , narrow minded politician again it will be too bloody soon !” Kat fumes at the other redheaded woman in the room. “I am getting too old for this Toranite trash”.
“This issue dear mother is not that you're too old, its that they're too young. All those passages through the blinding stone and you don't look a third of your age. Those arrogant asses forget what you did, the sacrifices that you made” the second redhead replies. “You're a better woman that me, I'd just tell them to shove it where Isare don't look and Xeen might”
Kat wanders over to a large window. It overlooks the harbour, though the house is well away from the seedier sections of Port Hempstead's docks. The magnificent visage of three and four masted sailing ships crowd the waterways and throngs of people can be seen scurrying about the dockyards either unloading trading ships or passengers boarding them.
“You want to be out there again don't you?”
“No, yes, damn it I don't know Lisse” She sighs. “Too much time has passed. Too much water under that proverbial bridge. Most of my allies are gone gods know where. I lost touch with your Uncles decades ago and I never thought that would happen.”
“Meh” Lisse gestures with her hand. “Make new allies. Find some new faces. When is the last time you shouted at orcs or goblins instead of senators?”
Another long sigh from Kat. She absently tucks a stray curl back into her placid bun. Her advanced age and not even a grey hair showing. Her distinct features mark her as human but the way she has aged? She turns her gaze from the window to a wall of portraits. There is a small one low on the wall of a fierce looking man in hide armor standing next to her with younger Lisse in front of them. She reaches out to it and traces her face in the frame.
She turns. “And speaking of senators, the merchants in Lor are expecting that shipment of aid supplies. Can you handle things in the warehouse for a while?”
Lisse snaps a fake salute. “Sure thing m'lady. Should I have Franklin open up the old section of the warehouse, you know the one you used to use when you screamed at more than the senate?”
“Cheeky wench”
“You know it” she teases “Hey, maybe you can go snooping in the Rift , find dear ol' father and relive some old times. This time you stick the knife in HIS back” The later she calls from the hallway as she leaves the room.
When she is gone, Kat opens a large trunk in the room. Quite ornate, at first glance appears just a decoration. Inside there is polished yew short bow sitting atop neatly folded garments, some fancy boots, belts and a collection of magical bags. Tucked inside the lid are a rather plain looking rapier, dagger and short sword. She fingers the bow, then aggressively takes it up, positions and fake fires an arrow across the room while she lets loose a string of magical curses. This causes her mouth to turn up in a wide smile. As the bow lowers something tucked into the side of one of the bag catches her eye. She places the bow down and reaches for it. In a velvet bag there is a manuscript, a bound book and small silver flute. She takes the flute in hand and pulls out the bound book. It seemly falls open on its own to a blank page. As she watches, shocked, the words “BEGIN AGAIN” appear on the first empty page.
-
Great plumes of dust fly up into the air as Kat pulls dirty white covers off crates in a neglected part of her Guild house. Hinges creak as she opens lids and peers inside each and every one. She spends days on end cataloguing and inventorying the stock sometimes just pausing to hold an object and remissness about its story. As she works she sings, practicing the old songs and chants she used to inspire allies and diminish foes. She skips between the crates as obstacles and play fights with pretend swords and bows. Anyone standing in the shadows might thing she was daft but as time passes her movements become more fluid, more practiced. Incantations pass her lips and she winks in and out of visibility. The Al'noth crackles around her once more. All the time she spent studying her father's sonnets she'd forgotten to tap into her own music. She is the music, the song and the melding of the harmony inherent in magic. The Mistress of Sound is back.
-
“I'll take a stack of those scrolls” Kat gestures to vendor in the trademark blue robes of a Lucindite. “and some of those potion bottles designed to toss”. As the vendor reaches for some grey bottles her head shakes “not those, the darker blue ones. The grey ones are for scratches. I'll be dealing with worse than scratches if I need to toss something. Do you know where I might get some Bodak teeth? It seems my previous supplier has vanished.”
The fair skinned elvin woman places her purchases in a package. “There hasn't been much call for those in recent years. It would seem that your type” she gives Kat a once over with her eye “ are not nearly as active now. But if you really need some, I suggest contacting the adventure guilds. Some of them are still active I hear. Orc Bashers, Angels and Saddlebags for a few but they mostly deal in ready made gear not components. You could try that group out of Leringard” she writes an address on a scrap of parchment “see if they have what you need”
“Thanks I will” Kat replies as she tucks the piece of parchment away in a small pouch in her dress. “Leringard means a boat trip. Guess I'm going sailing again. I wonder if Silas is still...” with a head shake she frowns and sets off toward the docks “nope, he was a mature man when I knew him, he'd be gone and dust by now”
Several days later Kat strides down the gangway of a handsome looking sailing ship . She turns and gives a good natured wave to the crew and chooses to ignore the catcalls and whistles. Atirred in the latest of fashion for the smart set, she makes her way further into the city and carefully avoids any grates leading to the city's sewer system. It's as if she wants to avoid something there. She passes the bank and the estate agents before the city center gives way to a residential section. There is a large swinging sign marking a staetly building at the edge. “I see the Arms is still in business. I wonder if Steele still runs it or if Lily's grandchildren ?” she muses to herself as she passes by. She stops and considers the new sign for a card Emporium. “That's new. Leave it to Steele to find a way to make a coin if associated with the Inn”.
I little ways further past the Arms on a narrow side street is the address indicated on the strip of parchment in her hand. Three sharp knocks on the door and it swings in, all of its own volition.
“Hello, Hello” a voice booms out of the dim hallway. Trunks are everywhere along the walls. I large elf in typical robes is absently pawing through one of them. “Can I help you? He asks as he picks up an object, turns in his hands for a second then discards it in the trunk to go looking again.
Kat grins as she watches and a smaller woman comes into view, emerging from a doorway some distance up the hallway. This woman waves and dumps something in the open trunk to which the elf latches onto and shouts “There it is” and closes the lid.
“Hello” she replies. “My name in Katrien Hommel. I sent you a falcon that I was dropping by?” The blank look on his face alerts her to the fact he has no idea what she is talking about.
“The Bodak teeth? Supplies for healing potions, the red ones?” she offers and sees regognition dawn on his face
“Ahhhhh” He grabs a bag from the wall. Take this, make as many as your skill allows, drop off some, keep some”
Kat looks puzzled. “I think there must be some mistake. I was looking to rrade or purchase supplies.”
“No mistake” he counters. “The bag is full of supplies, you're trading your skill as they are not easy to make. The more you make, the better you get and the more we have on hand for those that need them.”
He acts like what he said makes complete sense.
Kat takes the bag tentatively. “I know the potions are not easy to make but these are not easy to get either. Are you...” but before she can finish he interjects “ Squirrels”
Kat blinks. “Squirrels?” The lady in the shadows laughs. “That would be me” she hastily adds “ He calls me a squirrel. I collect things faster than he or the others that use this house can make things from them.
“Right, well, I guess I can make up some from this, my success rate is decent enough though I'm a little rusty. I take it you two and your group” she gestures to the crates “ Are the adventuring type?”
-
A large room with stone walls and a packed sand floor is divided into several roped training rings as will as areas with padded wooden replicas of men. Bags of sand hang from the rafters and there are several benches with iron weights stacked close by. Soldiers in various states of armor and with and without shields are sparring with each other or the dummies.
Off to one side of the room Kat is hacking at one of the dummies. Her fashionable dress has been exchanged for what appears to be iron chain mail. Instead of a short bow she has a blunted iron long sword in one hand and a small wooden shield in the other. She looks comfortable holding the shield but no the sword.
“Come on Miss Kat, you can hit harder than that.” a grizzled older man, clad only in his leather trews. ,is feet and chest bare, chides at Kat as she makes a very clumsy swing with a long sword at the wooden training dummy.
“That's just it Henry” She wheezes as she places the sword vertical and leans against it.” I can't hit this thing harder or my arm will fall off.
He walks up behind her and lifts the sword and places it back in her hand and patiently guides her body into a more correct stance. “It don't come from your arm lass, it comes from here” as he places a large hand on her abdomen. “Use you're whole body, not just yer arm and you'll do better”
Kat sucks in a deep breath, frowns at the dummy and tries to hold the form that Henry has shown her. Her swing is a little more steady and her arm doesn't vibrate as much when the iron makes contact with the cloth padding but there is little to no damage to be seen.
“Why do others” she grunts when she tries again “ Make this look so damn easy. I'm out with others and they're dancing around towering giants and bringing them down. One swipe an a giant would have me clear across the glade.” She labors a bit with each blow she gives the padding. “I've better to stick with my bow than to teach this old dog new tricks” The practice session goes on for about a hour and Kat is left red faced, sweating and with multiple new bruises.
Henry leans over her and puts a friendly arm around her shoulder. “Join the lads with me in the tavern and have a pint or two. Mayhap I can convince you to play for us or even sing? His eyebrows waggle as he adds the last part. Kat lets out a deep breath and squares up her shoulders. “I'd never miss the opportunity to sing and play for your boys Henry”
The tavern is crowded with those local to the area. It looks a little worn and tired but it is neat and tidy and the most delicious smells of roasting meat and fowl emanate from the large hearth at the back. Raucous laughter and cheer permeate the atmosphere of the place and Kat does not have to try hard to forget her aching back and arms and smile warmly at the serving staff and patrons. A table crammed with several young men and women frantically beckon the pair over. Its not hard to tell the resemblance to Henry on the faces of several of them. Kat is greeted as warmly as a member of the family and its apparent that she is well known amongst them.
“A song , a song” they shout as she approaches. One of the serving staff hands Kat and Henry a mug of ale as she passes. Kat take a long parched draft from her tankard and her mail creaks as she stands on the bench beside the table. She holds her tankard aloft and belts out a well known drinking song and not only her table but the entire tavern sing along her voice seeming to heighten and inspire the talents of the singing patrons. She easily transitions into the ballad of the Norseman, a fierce fighting song, and follows with several more popular tunes. Much time passes before she holds up her hand and gracefully bows. “Good folk it has been my honor to sing for you but alas my voice needs a break and” she holds the now empty tankard aloft “More ale”
She sits beside Henry and places the mug down. She leans on his shoulder and asks “ I wonder if all of this is worth it. I'm a singer, not a fighter. I inspire men and women to fight harder and longer because I sure as hell can't.”
“You can do anything you put your mind to lass. Perhaps you're going about this the wrong way. Sure being a fighter is being able to swing a sword or a mace or a hammer and make sure it hit the other guy, hard but its more than that. Its the mindset. Its working past the pain when the bandit slices your shoulder and being able to take more. Learning to ignore the pain sure but also learning your own limits.” Henry leans his messy grey haired head against Kat's still bright auburn one. You got strength in that heart of yours. You helped so many in need. You raised a fine daughter and let no one make her seem less because of that bastard father of hers. You've got what it takes to move along and the courage to take on challenges. A fighter is never giving up and child I've never seen you give up.
A trail of wetness trickles from the corner of one of Kat's eyes and she motions to wipe it away. “Thanks Henry, that means a lot coming from you. Perhaps we can set aside the new stuff and you can focus on teaching me how to move in armor better and some basics weapons. Things I am already good with like an axe or daggers. I don't want to use a great long bow taller than me, but I can focus on my short one.”
Kat picks the tankard from the table and brings it to her mouth to sip the ale slowly. “ You know Henry I was thinking... “
Henry makes a fake grimace face. “Dragons shudder when you start thinking Kat.”