The World of Layonara
Character Development => Development Journals and Discussion => Topic started by: gilshem ironstone on April 25, 2006, 11:27:28 PM
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Original Biography here (http://forums.layonara.com/character-approvals/104521-character-submission-gellarian-windsbreath.html).
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I have so many thoughts that I meant to get down over the past days... where to begin?
Hlint! What to make of this strange town! Never have I seen such a conflux of people. I am getting ahead of myself. What to make of this strange incident with the dragon. That a creature so majestic would deem to summon me to a quest so lofty seems a blessing, but I may rue that assessment befor my life ends. I had heard whispers of the name Bloodstone, but now I am being asked to become a primary motivator in the resistance against him! I would happily give my life to defend the natural beauty of Layonara, but there is still so much for me to learn. Physically, I am not even an adult and must train myself to have the supple physique of a great elven warrior. Mentally, I must gather lore from throughout this land and become a wellspring of knowledge on matters arcane, political, social, geographical, etc... Magically, my talent is just starting to take shape. My lack of formal training in weave manipulation is an asset, I believe, allowing me to practice new and surprising forms of magic, but that will take creativity, practice and thought. It will be a long time before I face Bloodstone, but it feels like a worthy cause. The legendary patience of my race will serve me well.
Back to Hlint. No sooner had I arrived than I found myself under the wing of a group of experienced adventurers. A most excellent elder dwarf, Xain Stonecutter, reminded me of my friend and mentor, Glack; Jeremy Steele, whose martial skill and tactics bear the grace of Ilsare's favored and, of all things, a wizard. A wizard! One of those whom I thought I could not trust, but when I challenged her on her art, showed none of the disdain that my teacher's had for me. A most excellent group to foray with. Joining me were Amnan, a young monk with whom I shared my vision of the Dragon, and Jeremy Buckley, an ostentatious bard whose art seems to pay homage only to himself. But Ilsare allows beauty to shine in many ways.
Together, we stormed a goblin encampment and temporarily decapitated, oun intended, their leadership. But for the leadership of Master Buckley, we may have perished. His knowledge of tactics is unparalled in my experience and under him we dealt a fierce blow to that tribe. I have little doubt that the vermin will soon re-swell their numbers.
In that excursion I saw people fighting with magic weapons for the first time. Not only were the blades they wielded of exceptional make and quality, surpassing that of even my dwarven brethren, but they imbued their user with a remarkable grace and confidence. No doubt the work of the enchantments on the weapons. It leads me to think that if I could use my magical talent to create that grace and confidence inside myself, I might imbue a sort of magic to my own weapons. I will explore this further.
After the goblins, we camped, and I engaged the wizard (what was her name?!) in a brief conversation on the metaphysics of magic. As we bantered, not only did I find myself respecting what I had previously reviled, but also revealing the intimacy I had only ever shown to Larina. Forgive my heart Larina! It was like ripping a scab off a festering wound, and as soon as Amnan, Buckley and I re-entered Hlint, I unceremoniously left and spent the next days binging on dwarven ale, to quell my demons.
The past conquered for the moment, I turned my attention back to the external world and sought trials to hone my skills. The town quatermaster enlisted me to keep the tide of already replenishing goblins at bay. What a beleagured town that they have a goblin breeding pit less than a league from their gate! I wonder if there is a permanent solution? With the help of a vengeful brownie and the well-timed reinforcement of an elven arcanist. We defeated a strong scouting party. I realized I had learned a great deal about firing my bow in close quarters recently, I also found a bit more personal power in my magic and have tried to duplicate two magic effects that I have seen: creating a protective arcane armor around myself, and creating a burst of sound to knock my opponents flat. We will see how that works.
I camped again, and my brownie companion fled in a flight of fancy that all fey are prone to. Then a remarkable party arrived, led by a the most intriguing woman I have met in a decade. Veluccia is her name and never have I met someone with such a cold, malicious exterior with such a good, vibrant soul. She must have endured great pain in her life. I am not ashamed to say that the archer of love nearly hit the mark when I met her. I engaged in some good-hearted banter with Veluccia, leaving her with a promise to make her laugh.
I then set about some private practice. I endeavored to find a mystical connection to my bow emulating that of an enchanted item. Not much success, but target shooting while tapping my magical musical abilities is most soothing and provides me with great clarity. As I wrote before, patience will be paramount in this endeavor. I must write more often.
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I have decided to give a concert at the Wild Surge inn. I can think of no better way to not only meet potential friends, comrades and allies, but to also expand my magical talents through touching music. I hope to write a poem to Larina, a drinking song to the wild surge and a short comic piece dedicated to Vellucia. As I wandered the town musing on this idea, I encountered the bard Buckley. I do not know why, but I asked him to join my concert. He said yes but has shown no real commitment to the idea since. I then encountered Vellucia again sitting and listening to group of adventurers talking about experiences beyond my scope right now, as well as the price of diamonds. I sat next to Vellucia and managed to engage her on the nature of the heart and she was surprisingly open to the topic. Perhaps there is a person of warmth trapped within the ice queens body. After that, I went to my room to jot some thoughts for the concert and crept in to a blissful rest.
In my dreams I had a vision of a bow of surpassing beauty. It was made of exceptional quality, and could also be strung as a harp. When I fired it, I could strike a note that would cause vibrations that made the very air combust! A fanciful dream, I suppose, but this is what I hope my magical talents develop in to. I believe I will start with the crafting of my bow/harp.
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Today was a day of recognizing how far I had come and how much further I had to go. I spoke with the undertaker, sent a chill up my spine, and he asked me to retrieve the essence of a lesser darksoul from the crypts. I agreed, not only to the quest, but to not ask too many questions about this task. The undertaker seems to be a good man, but why would he need something so foul? I found help in the crypts with the aid of an excellent "sneak" who knew the lay of the land. Together we cut a path through the crypts and achieved our goal fairly easily. I was pleased to find how far my skills with the bow had come. After our excursion, Ferrit sold me an exquisite cloak made from Black Panther Hide that blends remarkably well with shadows. A beautiful mantle that I will wear in all situations. She also shared some basics of crafting with me, which will be valuable if I want to create my bow/harp. She was a lovely companion and I hope to encounter her again.
I discovered, much to my dismay, that the protection spell I wanted to cast, requires some sort of material fetish, a piece of cured hide. Even more frustrating was that I could not purchase the hide anywhere in town, nobody had some I could buy and I am not a tanner. Perhaps I will focus my abilities on ways of connecting with my bow, so that I can find the magical fusion I desire.
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I was asked by a travelling merchant to remove the most recent goblin overlord from power. It would prove to be the most difficult task I had been faced with yet. Before I get in to that, however, I must talk about AnnaLee. A treasure of a soul. I first encountered her in my latest sparring match with Veluccia. I will be ...ed if I don;t become fast friends with that fiery-headed woman! But I digress. AnnaLee, who is a companion of Vellucia's, was courteous and kind from the first moment I spoke with her. The second time I met her was when I was trying to recruit able bodies for my goblin rampage. We began to speak of her relationship with her close associates, I am loath to call them friends because I understand so little of their life, when she unfolded a most miraculous tale for me. It seems a lady bard has usurped the gateway to Pandemonium first, and Celestia thereafter, and I will be a dwarf's mother if she does not try for Baator next! Such power-grabbing is extremely dangerous to the fate of all Layonarans. Why the gods themselves have not intervened is beyond my comprehension. Regardless, in the unfolding of her tale, AnnaLee won my undying affection and loyalty. In her I see a compassionate heart, and a quietly provocative soul that can lay a path for salvation, to the benefit of all, good or evil. She possesses a singular wisdom that expresses itself in a reluctance to judge and a reticence to polarize a situation. She has inspired me to write a poem for my up-coming concert that I hope will flatter my subject and rally the undecided masses. We shall see.
After my conversation with AnnaLee, I shot my bow by the pond and found a burdgeoning connection with the arcane. I found that if I felt my bow-pull as a measure of musical time, then my targets seemed to enlarge, and effortlessly, I found more force in my arrow's flight. It was a fickle feeling, sitting on the periphery of my consciousness, but palpable nonetheless. I then digested and pondered all that I had learned from my short days in Hlint. I am proud of my discoveries but long to fond a group of companions to call friends.
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After a couple of days of unsucessful writing for my upcoming recital, I decided to tackle the goblin question once again. I found a group of companions quite easily this time, they were going to mine, and I to vanquish. Not a likely combination, but happenstance is what it is. We were followed in to the caves by the faerie dragon familiar of an arcanist who had overheard our plans. I thought it inoccuous at first, but then, while waiting for one of the miners to coleect her ore, I cannot remember her name, I felt no real connection to her truth be told, I tested out a line about AnnaLee and the riders aloud to myself. The faerie dragon, whom I thought was enlivening, began chirping with messages from his master about a "he" that was captive in Baator. This information stayed in my mind for the rest of the excursion which was quite successful due to our aggressive companion Aryx, the Wemic. The company departed, and I went to the Wild Surge and pondered what this new revelation might mean. Is the guardian of Pandemonium, a captive of some foul devil in Baator? Or was this cryptic and elusive arcanist referring to a different party in the struggle? Or am I an innocent and passionate mind seeing connections where none exist? I resolved to speak about this with AnnaLee the next time I saw her. It preoccupies my thoughts, and I cannot find time for magic or art.
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After a day plagued by possiblities of cosmic importance I decided I needed a distraction. I walked around Hlint and eventually encountered the town treasurer who had lost the town tax ledger. She asked me to discreetly recover it from the sewers where it had been taken to. I entered the sewers and found only retched odors that made me nauseous, nauseous like a cave full of sweaty orcs, and vermin. I was so distracted by the smell that I did not notice the spider that delivered a venom, paralyzing me. If I can say one thing truly on this plane, it is that dying by vermin mauling, is a most unpleasant way to die. I found myself in a lonely place. Lonelier indeed than the Sielwood after the death of my beloved Larina. Thankfully, Ilsare deemed my time unripe, that I had more beauty to discover and create in this world. I was sent back and I thought I should take a proper rest. I spent the next day praying to the mercy of Ilsare, singing and shooting my bow. I felt where that place of magic that could make my archery mystical should be, but I suspect my death and rebirth, understandably made me weak; too weak to tap my spirit with proficiency. I feel honoured that Ilsare would send me back, my task unfulfilled. It made me feel as if I can achieve anything, or that I should, I am not sure which. My strength returning I went for a walk to the fishing pond and found AnnaLee there. I told her of my experience with the Faerie Dragon, which only led to more questions. I decided that I must find the elf that fed me this information and question him personally. AnnaLee continued to intrigue me in her demure and humble fashion and I finished talking to her with a jump in my step and a song on my lips. I decided that I would go to the sewers and finish what I started. This time I was surprised by no spiders, and wended my way deep in to the undercity. I came to a large chamver where I spied from afar what appeared to be a rabid half-rat, half-man feasting upon undisclosed animal flesh. He sent a shudder up my spine and decided that I would return in force to confront this creature. It was late when I stumbled in to bed and I dreamed of magic profound, songs ethereal, creatures of darkness, and AnnaLee.
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I met with nothing but frustration on my latest visit to the undercity. The door to the Ratman is locked, spider poison infected my blood, not a good day. I did get to practice a new fighting style that I call the pendulum. I have two sheaths for my long sword, one at my waist and another at my back. As I shoot my bow, I quickly draw my sword on the follow-through and bring it in a wide-arc towards my enemy, what results ia a clumst swing that is quick and allows my melee to involve both symbols of elfdom. I am very proud of my accomplishment. I am weary from the days journey and will be getting quite drumk on fine dwarven ale now. Good night.
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It has been a most interesting month. After a week of intensive practice with my bow, I can now feel, every time, the aracne connection between myself and the flight of my arrows. It is still just a sensation, rather than a manifestation, but I am very excited where this will lead to. Brimming with confidence I made another go at at finding the Ratman of Hlint, who I feel has become a personal nemesis. This time, he was lacadaisical with his defenses and after a hard-fought battle, I vanquished him and returned the "misplaced" tax records to Florah. Not only was I handsomely rewarded, (perhaps a gift from the taxpayers of Hlint)but I also had an epiphany. I realized that the incantations that I had been practicing were of little everyday use to me, so I abandoned their practice. Instead I plan to focus on deepening my understanding of healing magic and also creating dweomers to enchant weaponry. I believe that in this dangerous world they will better aid me. Especially, understanding how to enchant weaponry will aid me in my quest to make my everyday archery arcane.
I took a short jog after I delivered the tax records to take in the majestic stars, to rid myself of the stench of the sewers and to relieve some of the adrenaline from my fight with the Ratman. My jog led me to a group of very interesting people. Angela Swann, a crusty wizard whose name I forgot, as I desire to forget his bitterness, and Siloon. Angela is a generous and sad soul who I wish happiness hereafter, but all the group fell away from the radiance of Siloon. She is a vibrant, funny, intelligent and beautiful priestess of Xeen. We both share a talent and appreciation for the arts as well as a levity of spirit. We spoke long, sharing stories about ourselves, and when I coveted the beautifully crafted instrument she possessed, she invited me to her home in Fort Llast, with the promise of an instrument for myself.
It was a frolicking journey to Fort Llast that reminded me of being an elf in the mountains seven decades earlier. My heart swelled as we chased each other, playing children's games. It turns out that her "home" is a forgotten attempt at creatting a cafe and performance space in Fort Llast; in light of the militaristic doldrum of that place I feel is a stellar idea. She showed me a fine collection of instruments and I chose a wonderfully resonant acoustic guitar. I shared an elvish song I had written during my sojourn in the Sielwood and she was moved to tears by its sadness.
We then proceeded to imbibe large quantities of a spectacular vintage of Xeenite wine that she herself had brewed. Together we shared stories of our journies, conspired to make her theatre functional and made a wonderful conspiracy. It seems that Siloon has made a light-hearted enemy of a cook, named Kali, at the Leilon arms, and in a fashion peculiar to women of all races, wants to take revenge starting a quarrel between Kali and the gentleman whose affection both Kali and Siloon desire. It would require me to become a spy, as well as apprentice to a talented bard, both of which sound like a tremendous amount of fun. I will have to make up my own mind about Kali when I meet her, she may be innocent, but it is quite difficult to deny Siloon when she bats her eyelashes at me. We sealed our deal with a toast, I would have preferred a kiss, and the hour being late, parted ways being filled with pleasure at discovering a new companion.
I was so inspired by my meeting with Siloon, that I sat under the stars that night and composed a beautiful song to Larina. I spent the next week practicing and fine-tuning the piece for my up-coming recital at the Wild Surge. I then took a leisurely journey back to Hlint in preparation for my concert.
The day of the performance came and I was sweating bullets. Would anyone show up? I had invited many people, and my notice had been up for almost two months, but I am a relative unknown yet. I was crushed when there was no one awaiting my performance, I almost gave up music then and there, but every great musician has his setbacks and I performed for the drunkards anyway. As I performed a small group of travelers came and went, and much to my surprise, thoroughly enjoyed my song. I must say my rehearsal payed-off, as it was a moving performance. Feeling somewhat vindicated and much more hopeful about the next concert I give, I strolled in to the sunshine of another glorious day in Hlint. Radrian, the house Bard of the Wild Surge asked me again about her necklace, still missing, and was very distraught about its loss. Moved to pity, I promised to have it for her within a week.
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My promise made, I immediately set out to find a companion to take me to the dangerous parts of the Sielwood. It amazing, but even though I spent ten years there, I never felt any threat within its eaves.
I quickly found a kind elven ranger, who did not much appreciate the comedy routine I have been working on, but was a fast companion nonetheless. Her combat prowess was most impressive and we quickly won the day.
Returning to Hlint, I noticed the resident of the famous Witch of Sielwood, and should very much like to visit her one day. Perhaps she can give me advice on how to achieve my magical goals. I also ran in to Angela Swann again, and she gave me a most generous present. A fine suit of iron scale-mail. I am not proficient enough with armors yet to wear it properly, but with some more experience, who knows?
I returned Radrian's necklace and she was extremely grateful, both emotionally and financially, and then I took a brief respite where I practiced and, much to my delight perfected not two but three new incantations! I learned how to temporarily imbue my weapons with a minor enchantment; unfortunately it does not work on my bow or arrows, the quest continues. I also learned how to heal more grievous wounds and I created a glamour that can make people respond to me more favorably.
I took my new magical knowledge and applied to my magical/martial efforts with my bow. I feel as if I have plateaued for the time being but I will continue to refine my efforts. Patience I believe is key in this endeavor.
Then the travel bug hit me. I had always heard of the splendor of Port Hampshire, and the beautiful monuments there to past battles. I set out to see them for myself...
It was a tranquil journey filled with many sites natural and manufactured that filled me with inspiration, especially Blackford Castle. I have never seen a palace of such opulence! And filled with masterpieces of art such as I have never imagined!
I finally arrived in Port Hampshire and was amazed at the size and beauty of the city. While there I became a certified craftsman and decided to take up some new hobbies. Tailoring and gem-making have been the most fruitful, but I hope to one day make a suit of Panther leathers to match my stately cloak. My stay in Port Hampshire was relaxing and enlightening. I hope my exposure to such culture will improve the quality of my song-writing.
After this journey, I hit a patch of bad luck, followed by some very good fortune. Travelling back to Hlint, I met AnnaLee with a mage named Mercas. AnnaLee, who I was elated to hear has put the pandemonial horses behind her, recommended that Mercas and I travel together. I was up for anything at that point so I agreed. Bad move. We travelled east of Hlint where I believe the gods saw fit to do me ill. We were ambushed by a group of elven brigands, they called themselves rangers but I am loath to attach myself to such unsavories as these, when time suddenly froze. When next time moved, I found myself with a poison arrow sticking from my chest and was quickly whisked off to the halls of Ilsare. Once again my lady deemed the time unripe for my soul to rest and sent me back. Praise be to Ilsare and her wisdom!
Short days after I was reborn, Mercas took me on another suicide mission. We returned to the cave in the Sielwood to find gems and ores for our crafting when we were besought by an overwhelming group of goblins and kobolds. I should have known that wizards are no good. When I came to the void again, I could swear I heard Ilsare chuckling at me. Some cosmic inside joke. At this point I did not think it too funny.
I was returned to Hlint with my proverbial tail between my legs and was chatting with Dulan, one of the few sober patrons to take in my concert when I received a great piece of fortune, literally! A dwarf asked if I had a robe for sale, which I did having recently completed my first passable garment earlier in the week. He asked to purchase it and pulls out an enormous chest filled with gold! There must have been close to 100,000 crowns in it! I told him he was crazy, but he told me to mind my good luck. Sage advice after my recent experiences.
I put my money in the bank and decided to take another trip to Port Hampshire and then on to Point Harbor eventually to reach Fort Himlad so I can deliver that letter the Post Master gave me. The sooner the better.
Port Hampshire was as beautiful as I remember, and I learned some tricks for making parchment and sandpaper. Necessary if I want to make any wood objects. From there I took a boat to Point Harbor. I love the sea! The wind, the brine, the whales! I could live on it I think.
I arrived in Point Harbor and as I explored I began to realize that Hlint is really just a small provincial town, with the good fortune of being a crossroads for many interesting people. I walked around soaking in the sights and found my way to the famous Freelancers. I discovered that AnnaLee works there! She is so wonderful. I spent many hours talking woth her, and discovered that she is very in love. Good for her, but I can't help but be a little disappointed. I secretly hoped there was a place in her heart for me.
Then I struck out east towards Fort Himlad, travelling through the Dinen Forest. Quite beautiful but I spotted some more unsavory elves. I am now in a glen in the Belgaer Hills hiding. Ilsare knows why, but there are a group of Raksasha's prowling nearby. I spotted them when I crested the hill and am hiding for the time being. Wait! I think I hear something! I will write more later.
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Those foul demons must have the extraordinary senses. I was trying to circumvent them as quietly as possible when one of them looked up, directly at me from a hundred feet away, I must have stepped on a twig. The way they started casting I knew I had to run. I tried to go back around the ridge, but the demons were faster and the next thing I knew, I was roasting in a conflagration of fire. Again my Lady of Love found it in her heart to send me back. Does she want me to be the next Harper? Time will tell. I found my way back to the Freelancer, and AnnaLee felt just awful about sending me on a wild goose chase. I told her it was not her fault, but she insisted on getting me to Fort Himlad, safe and sound. She is such a kind and tender soul; I really appreciate the friendship we have developed. Even if it can never be romantic. I feel a tremendous love for her. Sure enough, we arrived with the help of some spectacular illusions, and then I bid a fond farewell to AnnaLee, as we both returned to our duties. As soon as I left her, I found a tune for my next song springing to my lips. Sort of even-paced, like riding a horse. I woked it out on the boat to Hlint, and decided to write a song about my first visit to Rilara. It is going to be very light-hearted and I hope to sing it at the Freelancer.
I returned to Hlint and continued my obsessive practice of Arcane Archery, I can now drive my arrows in to the bullseye almost every time... And halfway up the shaft as well! I don't know if that is a result of magic creeping in to my practice, or just the practice itself, but either way my bow now brings me as much comfort as music does.
I then locked myself up inside the Wild Surge and spent a week writing my song. I am very happy with it, I think it is going to be a huge success at the Freelancer.
I then decided to venture out for some more supplies for my crafting. I met with an opportunistic young human and Quilius and we ventured in to the Sielwood. I collected some spider silk, malachite, and deer hide. I was very excited by the gem-work I did. Not only did I cut and detail some excellent stones, but I prepared some of them with a magical dweomer. Who knows where this could lead.
After some variously successful creative attempts, I made my first instrument... I am not very good at curing Leather... I delivered another letter for Postmaster Vale and then decided to journey in to The High Moors. I wanted to find the witch who lives there and find some Willow'the'Wisp essence. As is my habit, I died. Perhaps I should employ a bit more prudence and solve my loneliness at the same time by travelling with companions more. I almost feel whole again, so I will write more later.
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The past few months have passed in a state of relative peace. As much peace as can be found in this world. I wonder if this war against Bloodstone is to blame for all the dangerous elements I encounter, or if it merely represents the constant battle for balance in this world.
I have filled my time trying to create things of beauty, for that will be my legacy to overcome the darkness. Jewelry, instruments, clothing, arrows, oils, gems of arcane value, all these things I have made to bring some light to the world. To show how the Harmony plays between my soul and the songs I encounter.
I have had success, but still my heart yearns for that ultimate... To have someone to share my own heart with. Someone whose own song is a symphony of exquisite splendor. But she may already be gone... No Dragon's promise to bring her back...
And archery. I think of it as a way of tuning the strings of my spirit. I now find a tremendous calm when I shoot. It requires patience and deliberateness, but it connects me directly with the Harmony of Life. I can now hear the notes my bow plays as I pull back the string and release its symphony of concordance. I can see my arrows punctuate and break musical phrases. It is marvellous and humbling. I have still have no claim over mastery of connecting my arcane talents to my bow, but it is the same process, I am sure of it.
I have also met a kindred spirit. His name is Tahless, and he shows an elan and exhuberance for people and adventure that I have not seen outside myself. Every step with him is a pleasure and we learn together what it is to be a hero. I am so joyed to have found this person.
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It has been far too long since I have written, you could learn more about my life these days from my Tradeskill Journal...
My heart seeks a constant companion, but yet I have none. Why does my life always find me in surprises. I suppose that is Ilsare's way, to reveal beauty when it is least expected, so I shall be content with myself. I have tried journeying around the continent more and found some new and interesting places. I love the squawking of the Kenku, they are almost like children.
I feel great strength in myself, as if my connection to the Harmony of Life is coming in to balance. It is very exciting as I can start to hear the connection between myself and others. Sometimes in larger groups I hear wonderful harmonies and dissonances, and most wonderfully, actions between people can resolve these harmonies or dissonances. It is a tremendously powerful music, and I find I am moved to my soul by its sound.
I will continue to try and become a master craftsman, archer and songwriter, but all these things need performances. Time to seek some danger.
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In my dreams last-night I was walking through Hlint surrounded by all the heroes of the age. Ozy, Ta'lan and many faces I did not recognize... And everyone had a line of light extending form their hearts to every other heart. The strange thing was that these lines were made of sound. They didn't make sound, they were sound incarnate, and I felt their notes deep in my soul. I basked in the un-music of these notes for a long while, performing some strange and melodious dance when an elf spoke to me. I did not recognize her but she had red-hair, res-armor on and a shield with Ilsare's crest. And this woman said to me slowly, like I was stupid, "Resolve these lines". Then Ta'lan turned on me, his eyes blazing and fired an arrow at me. Before it ended my life I woke up.
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I recently traveled to my home, the Berhagen mountains, I was filled with memories, both sad and happy. I felt a confusion about my life I had never felt before. I had, for a long time accepted at face value, the words of Glack to me considering our differing heritages. He said, "I am not saying that we are right and the Gray elves were wrong, but Gel my boy, you must always consider that there are at least two-sides to every story." These words bounced through my head as I stood on the aeries that I remeber from my youth. So many years! I am not yet an adult yet I have lived so much!
It was then that I felt a warm-hand on my heart. It made me weep for joy. I looked out across those snow-capped peaks. In the distance I could hear the voices of those dwarves that taught me so much, about loyalty and honesty, about skill and ambition. All these things that define who I am. And so I recognized the hand of Ilsare upon me, and recognized that it was my life to love, my past to cherish and my future to yearn for. I have loneliness yes, but I also have companionship. In the songs I sing that bring me strength, in the magic I play from the Harmony itself, in the few friends that I would die for, even if they might not. I have Larina, whose spirit lives on still inside my soul and I have a beautiful and prosperous future ahead.
The archer never misses, but hits that which most needs to be pierced. Praise be to Ilsare!
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A few weeks back, my good friend Tahless and I went with Bumblebee to seek some adventure. We decided to go to the Haven mines and it may have been a typical story of rash adventuring youths being killed in an ambush, but for one small detail. We were killed in an ambush by a group of viscious ogres, and we sought revenge with the aid of two fine women from Hlint. Treana Min E'Zoenna and Addison Scarlace. Treana I know from previous experiences in Hlint but Addison was new. Afterwards I pored through my memory for a long while and realized that I had seen her before and that her face was quite accurately depicted through all those memories.
If I though Jeremy Sttele was an accomplished man-at-arms, he was but a whelp before Addison's prowess. She glided through battle as a swan and cut with the ferocity of a tiger. She had grace, strength and intelligence flowing through every step; she truly was a marvel to behold. But beyond that was a strange phenomenom that I picked up on as we moved deeper in to the mines. I was as we performed a pincer attack on a group of ogres and I backed up Addison's flank. I began to perceive what I can only describe as a sound. A music. I could not hear it, it was on the borders of sound, but it was distinct in my heart.
As I focused in on the battle I began to feel that it coincided with each of Addison's mighty strokes. And as I began to take in her fighting more clearly I realized that the chords she played took on different qualities depending on how she fared. Bright and harmonic as she locked in struggle, dissonant if she were pushed back on her heels, mournful yet triumphant as she inevitably vanquished her quarry. I understood that one part of the chord emanated from Addison herself and was changed by the experience she was having in battle. The second emanated from her opponent and was similarly changed by its experience of facing such a mighty warrior. But the third part of the chord is what interests me most; it came from her weapon which is clearly laden with enchantments. I could hear no such music from the ogres weapons so I must assume that it was the magic of the weapon that played the note. This note was always changing but ever resolving the music of the two fighting in to a chord and the music was what seemed to represent her strikes, they are what pierced the souls of the ogres and told them it was time to go to the soul-mother.
If this is true, it may explain the dream I had and the cryptic message I received, "Resolve these lines". This music I can assume emanates from the Harmony of Life, and represents a part of that grand symphony. I believe that this may be the final piece of the puzzle in my quest to imbue magic in to my archery! If I learn to hear my own song, and hear my targets song, then as I fire from my bow I can play a note from my bowstring that will create a chord that may give my arrow something like the power of Addison's sword. It is a testament to Ilsare's beauty that a bow, her weapon, can also act as an instrument in the symphony that she conducts. This is very exciting and I hope that my future practices will yield fruitful results.
-
All this practice and what? An un-sound that buzzes in my ears and a thousand arrow-shafts to replace. I know I am on the right track, so why do my arrows not fly with the sureness of the Archer of Love behind them? Perhaps my heart is untrue. Perhaps it is my dwarvish obsession with crafting that Ilsare and Dorand are arguing about in the planes and so Ilsare does not shine favor upon me. I am at a loss. I will lay down my bow for a time and purify my soul with music and song instead. And those steady labors that the dwarves taught me so well. I will let that rest with the patience of my race.
I traveled today to the aerie outside Haven to rest and relax. I looked up on that pale sky, shrouded in ash and I heard the cry of some ancient beast locked in a mortal combat high above me. I wept. I cried as I did the day my mother was murdered in front of me and for the life of me I do not know why. I felt as if a golden hue had been blended with many other magnificent colours and in so trying to make many majesties one, all that was left was hazy, muddled grey. Perhaps it is my frustrations with my magical pursuits, perhaps it is my un-luck with love, perhaps it is because I cannot see the fair skies where Larina's spirit looks down on me, I do not know. I do know that something escapes me, something is slipping away. A treasure of this World's history. Ilsare, grant me the wisdom to see what beauty need be preserved and that which forgotten, will yield a growing light and understanding.
-
It seems to have started with that expedition to Raven's Watch and Black Ice Island. These thoughts that began growing in me that day on Haventop, were somehow purified, as if in a crucible, in my mind's eye. That day on Haventop, looking out at a bleak Mistone in front of me I felt a great loss. Loss for a world that may never be reclaimed. The scars and wounds of Bloodstone's ambitions may have marred Layonara irrevocably. But the frost that was put on my heart in Raven's Watch changed my grieving in to hope.
I looked out on that ever-dark land and, pulling my cape tightly around me, saw the dimmest silhouettes of mountain peaks and icebergs dancing together. The sounds beyond sound that I hear Ilsare playing are quieter here, simpler, unimpeded by grand ideas. But there is also a tone of beginnings. As I imagine the sun, coming over the head of the islands, as I am told it does for short periods of the year, I feel as if the world were seeing the sun for the first time. That creation was begun in this place.
I marched on with my companions: stout Tahless, true-friend, Gruwlz, honest and brave and Amellia, silent and austere. Gruwlz, being a native, led us deeper in to the islands until we reached a place he called Wolverine Camp. It was clearly a grave, perhaps inhabited by a tribe of humans at some point. When I see the boat, Tahless tells me that we are going across the icy waters to an island populated by magic-wielding kobolds. I shiver not for the piercing wind, but also at the thought of cruel reptilian faces screaming their spells at me.
We arrive at the other side and the wonder that I felt when I first landed on Krashin was replaced with horror. Before me was a place where only death can live. Vicious, dark ice, with razor-sharp crystalline spikes jutting out of the earth. I closed my eyes to listen and my frost-bitten ears could make out over the howling wind a hissing song welcoming us to the island. We steeled ourselves and began a march as briskly as we could. We soon learned that the ice was not as stable as we hoped and had to slow our pace considerably, only amplifying the numbing of the winter cold. Our progress was steady, we made for a group of mountians towards the east end of the island, and were left unharried. We spotted a massive polar-bear a couple of miles off our course but it was mostly a taut quietness through our trek. We reached the foothills before nightfall, found a lee and Tahless lit a fire. That night as we rested and ate my fire-thawed trout, Gruwlz told us grand and harrowing stories of his time here. He spoke of battles between his heroic ancestors and armies of these kobolds. How his people came to be feared by the kobold sorcerers. And hidden whispers of a marvelous, glittering cave the sorcerers guarded. As I slept, and Amillia kept her vigilant watch, I had dreams of demons and angels clashing on a field of slate, and of currents of magic rising up from below. And finally, I saw pale serpent coiling and biting its own tail.
Upon wakening I was left with an ominous feeling inside of me. Upon reflection, I realize that what I experienced was the other face of that hope I felt first arriving in Krashin. Not despair, but the grimness to push on, knowing that there may be no hope. I say that, but it could equally have been Gruwlz's stories of these kobold's gruesome treatment of prisoners, and their song that I was catching clearer wind of the closer we were to the mountians.
We set off in to the foothills and then our ascent of the mountains followed. With Gruwlz leading we came to a mountain pass that was guarded by stakes with polar bear skulls on them, clearly someone, or something considered this place theirs. But Gruwlz seemed unconcerned, or unaware of that fact and plunged on, maybe even quickening the pace slightly.
I am not sure exactly how the ambush happened, but as I recall, through the memory of bloodshed, there was a group, twice our size, sweeping on us from all sides and the air was filled with the sound of the weave being channelled. I began to sing, drawing the Harmony on my friends and myself as a gust of wind, propelling ourselves eagerly forward to battle. Picking out the first un-sounds I heard I let fly my arrows, trying to feel how supplely I should draw the string. For all my practice in this unorthodox way of firing, my aim has not suffered, indeed it has improved. My bow and I sang a harmony of battle as I aided my fearless companions to win the day. Gruwlz and Tahless, sustained considerable wounds, and after some immediate first aid we , we made one more march before camping and our march led us down in to a hollow wind-filled basin, with the sea on one side and the cruel mountain-peaks on the other. As I tried to block out the thoughts of my numb feet and the pain of frost-bite on my ears, I thought of how marvelous it is that these mountains are so different in aspect to the Berhagen's. These are sharp where the Berhagen's are round. Here I cannot hear the cry of the eagles in thier lofty aeries, or the ring of the gem golems in the vales far-below. There is only wind and darkness here, and a fear growing slowly in my mind, and the hollow song of the kobolds. I did not know what it was that I feared, but I sensed it lay across the valley. We plodded blindly ahead, not talking much, stumbling occasionally, until we saw a cavern-mouth maybe a quarter of a league ahead. We quickly found a lee within sight of the cavern, lit a fire, and made our plans. We had learned that these beasts are skilled ambushers and so the plan was to give surprise to us. I would go in first and silently and when I spotted a group I would signal the size and disposition of the force. We would prepare ourselves, magically and otherwise. Then Tahless and I would launch a volley of arrows at them, drawing them towards us. Then Gruwlz and Tahless would charge in with Amillia knifing the kobolds to minimize their spellcasting.
Our plans set, we rested, and made the short march to the cavern. We entered warily and quickly found that no light reached this wretched place. I used the Harmony to bring light to my heart and seeing the cavern in detail made me retch. Corpses, of animals and kobolds alike, were strewn everyewhere, all in varying levels of decay. The inhabitants waste was everywhere. And from deep inside I could hear them laughing their horrid laughs and that dark beckoning song. We steeled our nerves and at a sign from me we entered in to the depths. I walked concealed, and ahead of the group for a ways until we met resistance. A group of four kobolds sat hunched on the floor, garbling in their hissy language. I told the group what I saw, we prepared as planned and then unleashed hell. These kobolds are much fiercer than those in the Sielwood, but we swept them aside, with only Gruwlz taking a nasty arrow in his thigh. Healing his wounds we pushed forward, feeling the tenseness in the cavern increasing as the kobolds further in, begin to feel a rumour of death sweeping their home. And so it was, that we came to the very bottoms of the caves, meeting resistance but never concentrated or organized enough to slow us. In the lower levels I discovered a dream come true. A vast chamber that seems to be some sort of practice room for the kobold's to practice their art, and running through the walls in vast veins, some as thick as Gruwlz's arm, was raw Alexandrite! I now have a limitless source of this gem that I will eventually be able to use to channel the Harmony in to enchanted rings and amulets. Truly a blessing! I took a small sample so that I could confirm that it is pure at a crafthouse. But much to our surprise there was little else. For all thier dominance on this island, the kobolds appear to have no real social structure and certainly no treasures they are hoarding, except the gems of course.
So we made our way out of the cavern, having driven its inhabitants away for now, and set back for the boat. As we crested out of the valley, we ran headlong in to a raiding party of about ten kobolds which we quickly dispatched with our superior abilities and tactics. We passed out of their territory, and as we marched back the way we came I noticed a narrow pass through some mountains that I had not seen before. Our curiosity and confidence got the better of us and we decided to investigate, perhaps alo a small measure of greed at whispered promises of riched to be found. The terrain rolled on, one league unremarkably like the last, when I felt a stillness come over my soul and that same fear creep back in to my heart. I told the group to stay still, and as I scanned the horizon I spotted a small blur of movement, I walked a little further to see if I could make it out when I heard a commmotion behind me. I turned to see my companions being assaulted by the massive polar bear we had spotted days earlier. My bow quickly began to sing and the bear was overcome by cruel hews from Gruwlz. I ran over to see if everyone was alright and when that was confirmed, I turned back to where I had seen that blur of movement. It was gone. Not it had darted in to the air! It began moving towards us rapidly and soon I made out something out of legend. A lizard, perhaps fifteen feet long, with great pinioned wings, and glistening white scales! A white dragon! I had seen Red Hatchlings on Dragon Isle before but this was something else, more mature, more powerful. It had definitely seen us and we quickly formed up, cast every protective and enhancing charm we knew. I passed out my last three flasks of Alchemist's Fire and then hell broke loose. The beast descended on us like a fury. Its laugh caused Tahless' knees to buckle, and it came down and breathed a killing breath of the coldest air I could imagine. I began to lewt my arrows fly, but they couls no more pierce its skin than a carp could build a mountain. It swatted mightily and it became very apparent very quickly that we would not survive if we stayed. I gave the order to run and fled, but my companions could not hope to escape. I prayed that the Soul Mother would judge them unripe and leave them in this world to live another day. I also prayed that I coudl escape this nightmare.
As it turned out, both my prayers were answered. I returned to Leilon, to find Tahless, Gruwlz and Amillia standing together. I greeted them, inwardly feeling that sinking sensation I feel whenever I see that ghostly image. They all agreed they needed a rest and they deserved it. So off they went and I was left alone.
Looking back on it all, the sights and sounds of that journey will stay with me forever but it si what I learned that is the greatest treasure. I learned there, from the savage kobolds, to the lonely poalr bear to the mighty dragon, that a living creature's ability to survive and be vivacious even in the most horrid of circumstances, if unmatched, and that spark that drives life to move forward is what will bring Layonara through this dark age.
-
I travelled back to the gem cave on Black Ice island, I hoped to be able to attract less attention than before and use that to vanquish my foes more easily. But I found that these kobolds will require me to have a bit more power if I am to tackle them by myself. Still I find almost all my waking thought sto be of those veins of Alexandrite. I will harvest it! Or die trying.
-
These were the strangest days I have had, and the most exciting. Joined by my friend Tahless, we sat on the mountaintop by Haven, contemplating the world unfolding before us when I heard a sound that would change me forever. A piercing hawks cry split the air fromk high above, but such a call I have never heard before. Filled with fear, sadness and desperation it was. At first it seemed trivial, but as we returned to Hlint, the cry continued to pierce me, and by the time I was at the familiar benched, all my pain that I had hidden away inside my heart came pouring forth. Larina's face pierced my mind and I was overcome with a desire to help this creature. And so Tahless accompanied me as I tracked it across the continent to the druid encampment in the High Forest. As we tracked I began to wonder what this hunt foreboded. Was this another reincarnation of Larina? If so, how would I contemplate her return, or possibly losing her again? Or was this a spirit sent by the gods to teach me some lesson to make myself a better person? Or perhaps it is simply a symptom of my perpetual solitary wandering, causing me to find a reason to feel needed by someone else? I did not know and it drove me wild with excitement and fear. We raced across the land and when we did arrive at the grove, I found a red-tailed hawk in obvious distress. After some effort, I discovered his mate had been captured by Bug Bears in the foothills of the Grey Peaks. My heart swelled with pity, knowing full well what it is to have a mate stolen by barbarous forces. I vowed to erradicate these foes and set off through the forest, trail-blazing as only a ranger can, images of Larina flying through my head. And then I heard the most remarkable sound of my life. I have heard sound and un-sound but this hawk, in the depths of love and pain, uttered a cry which revealed to me that all my instincts on the nature of th eHarmony were true. It uttered a sound so perfect that it revealed to my ears the Harmony itself. These thoughts clearly clouded my senses because Tahless sensed the presence of the Bug Bears before I did. I regained my composure and I scouted out a group of trainees which we trapped and crushed. We then moved further in to their compound where there was a champion and some wargs. Again we lured them in to our web and they fell, although after considerably more resistance. Then I felt the air electrify and espied a shaman surrounded by heroes performing a gruesome sacrifice. The victim, the lady-hawk I sought. We laid hasty plans, feeling as if time were of the essence, and launched our attack. Over-hasty is what we were for the fierceness of these creatures quickly overcame us both bound us and healed us, grumbling that they would eat healthy meat. I watched desperately as their ritual continued, and I unable to stop it. Tahless and I tried every ruse or trick we could muster but the bastards would not bite. I could feel the lady-hawk's mate, high above, imploring me to do something, but I was filled with despair as I saw the agony in the lady-hawks eyes, and I was powerless. But then, whether through dumb-luck, or divine providence, I care not, Nixx, a pixie sorcerer, and Roy Aynsworth, a ranger, happened upon the scene and slew the Bug Bears mid-ritual. I was still dumb-founded as Nixx's spell shattered the steel cage, but the sprayed shards of metal reminded me of my task. I ran over to the hawk and quickly determined that she was held fast by some elaborate shield spell. Dispelling would not work, as surely as steel would fail. But then through instinct I stumbled upon a solution: to use my experiments with the Harmony of Life to break the spell. I began to sing and implored the hawks to join with me, to sing of their love, and to use that connection to each other, bolstered by my arcane talents, to shatter the shield. It was a gruelling process, I called upon every fiber of my being to give my music potency. But nothing seemed to be working. The shield would become something corporeal, not of the weave, but of this reality, and then revert. All the while the strength of the hawks and myself ebbing away. I lost myself in the music, I sang for hours, blocking out all around me, willing myself to sing notes I have never hit before, but still we faded. I was pulled back to the moment when Larina left me, the anguish, the fear, the hollowness and still I sang. When I was at the moment when I felt blackness creeping in to my consciousness, I felt a calm come over me. I had no strength to resist what lay before me, and my actions will have a profound effect on my life. I found myself pulling my bow from my back, keening an unearthly sound, almost beyond sound, and nocking an arrow. I could feel every texture of my bow so enormously: the grain of the oak, the tautness of the spider-silk, the resistance as I pulled it back. And then I felt something else. I felt something akin to a current along the string, all blackness fell away from my sight and I could see the bubble with sharp clarity. The scintilating colours, the semi-solid structure my song had created, before me in slow-motion. With a twang that was of the un-sound I sought, my arrow flew towards the shield. At the moment of impact, there was a bright flash, and I collapsed to the ground. My companions rushed to my side, healed my wounds, and when I raised my head, the bubble was gone, the lady-hawk was gone, instead there was a vision of beauty, with angelic wings, holding a bow with the man-hawk flying around her head joyfully. I came up to her and kneeled, believing her to be Ilsare herself. She bade me rise and thanked me for my effort, explaining that she was a "humble archer", wounded while polymorphed and unable to regain her true form. She gave me a magic arrow as a token of her thanks and flew peacefully away, the hawk crying his thanks as he left. And there I was, left with this arrow and another gift. I was filled with the knowledge of the Harmony and how my bow was a conduit for it. All I had to do was explore its power but I no longer needed the key to unlock it. It was now a part of my soul as surely as my other magics are. Weary, but filled with a quiet contentment, I journeyed back to Hlint. On the way, Nixx explained that she too had been tracking the man-hawk and that was how they happened upon us just in the nick of time. I laughed at the co-incidence, but secretly I think it is divine providence, that Ilsare, at least for that short while, had me in her sights.
-
I remember now why I hate wizards so much. Arrogance, abuse of power, and the definite belief that they are a race apart from all others. It disgusts me. Wow. It was bizarre having that be the first thing I have written in a long time. I have made so many travels and seen so many people that only the words of magic and song have meant anything to me lately. But lo! I have drank from Katia's cup until empty and still come back for more. The trees, the fruit, the animals, the scenery all have been inspiration for the senses.
My thoughts jump again... I want to be a leader of people, but I feel I do not have knowledge. Not like Jin Lun Lee. That man radiates wisdom, confidence and the fierce belief that he will not lead people astray. I will endeavor to bring similar qualities to the fore in my own person. In the meantime, I hope we can come to a decision about this demon soon. If we are to go to the Abyss, so be it. But I am very interested in destroying one who makes a mockery of life.
-
I have re-discovered my joy of performance. I have not performed publicly in a few years, but then at the promptings of one Maple Cloverseed, I performed a song that wrote some time ago. The rush was exhilirating! Feeling the audience breathing along with me, the vibration of notes pouring through me, amplifying my contribution to the Harmony. It was marvelous. And to have my simple song inspire Roy to recite his own excellent poetry made it all the more rewarding. I plan to write more songs and perform again more regularly... Perhaps somethin in Dwarven...
I still feel a burning desire to aid the church of Ilsare in some greater fashion. I do not know what yet. Although I was vey disapointed by the reception I received from Ranewin. I would have thought a priestess of the Heart of Gold would be a little more enthusiastic about someone asking to further the the faith. I will just have to do it myself.
-
I travelled to the Great Library on Voltrex. Voltrex! It is half-myth, half heaven-on-earth. I thought that it was a guarded land but perhaps the library there is some sort of neutral ground. There was not a living soul inside and no guards on the outside, so they must be pretty confident of its safety. Anyway... There were more books there than I have ever seen in my life! Chamber upon chamber filled with the knowledge of the ages. Geography, theology, sociology, theurmatology... anything I could ever want to learn about. Except the Harmony. The source of all my magic. Why it has not been written about, or why Ilsare herself is not mentioned in all of those works astounds me. Perhaps I should write that book. I should deepen my knowledge of the Harmony if I plan to become the first great arcanist who does not use the weave for my practice. That would be a slap in wizard's collective faces. Perhaps I could even join the Arcane Alliance. Now there is an idea...
After the concert I felt compelled to practice my music more. I put a post in the Wild Surge, with no response yet. I saw a few other posts for those seeking mentorship, but with the same results. Has a sense of community left us in these dark times? I hope that the love that draws people together will always be cherished.
-
I took another trip to Krashin, and this time got to see the further expanses of the Black Ice Island. There is a signifigant Goblin Tribe living there, that rides Worgs to augment their atrength. They live in a massive cave-system which is riddled with veins of alexandrite and sapphire. Roy, Nixx, Tera and myself did most of the exploring after Mercas had to teleport back to Hlint to deal with some sort of emergency. But he is true and returned, along with Daniel Poetr, to us in time to bolster our forces and deal a crushing blow to the foul buggers. Despite Roys chidings, I managed to bring back a massive haul of gemstones and should be more than enough to improve my skills.
We also slew a young white dragon that was lurking around the island and had claimed friends of mine the second time I went to Krashin. If it wasn't for the magical storms of Nixx, we may very well have perished. I was honoured to have witnessed her talents.
Although I distrust and usually dislike Wizards, they can be very useful. Perhaps I should try and manipulate them more to my own ends...
-
I have been travelling here and there so much that I haven't really had time to write so I will try to get as many recollections down as possible. I guess the irony of all this is that I haven't really been doing much. I have travelled a lot, I can say, with a great degree of surety, that I have seen all there is to see of Mistone. From Lar, to Gnoll Watch Tower, I have walked a great distance across this continent, and can say that it is as beautiful as it is varied. I found myself drawn to Lar specifically. Something about its seclusion seems so romantic. I am not one to throw in with those overly-rigid Dorandites, but with a few artistic touches, the Citadel of the Hammer could be a magnificent monument. And the Flaming Twins makes some of the best ale I have ever tasted. It does seem to have a large population of people that have come there to be forgotten, but everyone has a home, so who am I to judge. I can say with all honesty, that the Far Reach Mountains are the most terrifying place I have ever been. I was chased there by a very angry Satyr, and as I ran it got darker and darker. Eventually the darkness became so impenetrable that I could not tell north from south or even up from down. Worse than that, none of my magic worked there. At least, not how I intended it to. I wandered around, blindly trying to find my way back to familiar, and visible, territory when I felt it. This burning gaze that pierced even the inky black of this cursed place. It was a gaze filled with malice and hunger, and it was looking right at me, right in to me. I flew in to a panic in the face of such evil and frantically began running back to where I thought I came from. The whole time I ran, I could feel that gaze peeling back layers of my skin, burrowing down to my very essence. Then I ran in to something else. Another presence, another unspeakable evil. Before I had time to even draw my bow, I could feel something sharp slide between ribs. Not thrusted, but eased in to my insides, like they were carving a roast. The last things I remember before waking up in Hlint are the foul stench emanating from this new presence, that gaze standing over me, and that evisceration does not hurt as much as you think. I was saved by the grace of the Soul Mother, perhaps with a few kind words from my Lady, and have vowed to learn all I can about that cruel place.
-
This is the first time I have written about this. It is a dark and foreboding event that weighs heavily on my heart. I stand and listen to an elf, I believe named Rain and a Female, whom I don't know. As they whisper about seeds, they take on a tautness, a readiness for the unexpected. I believe this is because they understand as well; I do not know how much they have heard or done, but the potential for change is immense.
The facts that stick out in my own mind are the Wild Child and Selian. What a Wild Child is, where it comes from and what it represents are all hidden from my perception. What are the consequences of giving this Child away to Selian? By all accounts she is an immensely powerful wizard who has a mind to conquering Mistone. Would she be better than Allurial, or more importantly, Allurial's heir, at ruling a continent that is in a Golden Age? I do not know, but I also do not trust Selian's reputation that I can give her the benefit of the doubt.
But I was warmed to hear the word getting out. That it is being talked about and cared about. I hope all involved make good choices for themselves and as they see the world around them. I feel that Ilsare will prevail.
-
I have had no further information about the seeds, but I have learned that Rhynn is decidedly neutral about the whole affair. A sad day that someone with such power to effect change should be so apathetic. I have taken up weapon-smithing, in order to get in touch with my dwarven roots. It is a very tough craft for someone of my physical stature. But I am learning more everyday and once again my patience will tell all. Perhaps one day I can return to Ulgrid's in honour as one if their great smiths. I encountered a halfling with a beef against elves for speaking elven. In my mind that is like getting mad at a bird for singing, but everyone has their own problems to deal with. I teased, provoked, cajoled, argued and reasoned with her and eventually Drogo and myself seemed to make her understand our point. Very satisfying! Then I travelled with a group of reckless sorts to Haven where I mined some amethyst and tried to keep the young and stupid sorts in line. It amazes me that even in the midst of an ogre infested, haunted mine, people will still not work together. I am for freedom as much as the next person, but that type of behavior will get you killed. After a brief rest, I went back to my weapon-crafting. If it weren't for Semli's flimsy picks I may have made more progress but I still managed to craft six daggers of copper. Hopefully, I will continue my successes. Patience, patience, patience!
-
**Gel'larian cracks the spine on a leather-bound journal of his own making. It is emblazoned with a spread-winged hawk carrying a rose and an arrow in its talons. He takes his quill, dips it in some ink and sits down to write amongst the hustle of the Wild-Surge.*
It is odd that fifty years seems not so long to do one thing, but the thing was so captivating that surely my mind and soul were transported by its beauty. The Breath of the Muse is like a second wife to me know I know her so well. The babbling brooks that kiss her foundation, the stone of her walls, immaculately burnished, her gardens, Prunilla's delight. I wrote more poems on a good day there than I had written in the previous century of my life. I owe a tremendous debt to Alleina: she introduced us after all, and the inspiration I felt the day Alleina and I spoke is something I can still draw upon.
It is even odder then, that after that demi-century the placid calm I felt should be so overwhelmed. How does sadness creep in to one, such as it did to me? I cannot say for certain, other than that all the time I spent in service and in observance of the world around me elevated my senses to something more important than the creation of beauty. How I should fulfill that service is a mystery to me, except that I knew the daily mediations of the Breath would not suffice. The thunderbolt of understanding smote my innocence about a world of pure beauty; I felt, profoundly, the destruction that has been visited upon every race on every continent, even hallowed Voltrex. It harrowed me, and I wept as suddenly felt compassion for those that fell to Sinthar, that were enslaved by Rael, that perished to Milara. But tears seemed vanity, and so I had to do something else. I left my sanctuary, and love was stolen from me a second time.
I again crept out in to the world, and was repulsed by what I saw, as if a surfeit of beauty in the gardens of Ilsare, made eveything else base by comparison. Or worse still, that I know saw the world for what it was: a house of suffering in which there is only one exit, death, by whose departure we are still not guaranteed repose. I heard rumour of a devastating wave, drowning thousands, of a war with dragons and cults of weak-minded fools. I felt compassion until those that I felt for, refugees, survivors, sufferers, tried to murder me for my boots, and then I felt no more compassion. I felt ire. I felt that I must punish those that corrupt this world, those that pollute it, that take rather than add to the wonder of my life. I understood that this is what I had been doing all along. This is why I swore vengeance on all orcs, not only because they stole my first love, but that they continue to do so.
So, I return to this world, to make an art of vengeance and a hobby of preservation. No one will know for whom I take my foes to task, all they will know is that I do, and that is their woe. Many will hear that a force to preserve and create beauty has once again risen, and they will cheer. I will listen to neither.
**He writes the last words and looks at them solemnly. Ragrian approaches and asks if he is writing a new play, to which he only winks his special wink. He closes the journal and picks up his guitar and leaving care behind for a while plays songs that remind him of quieter times.*
-
So still they mock my loss. Orcs, orcs, orcs. Housing banditry, too cowardly to even make their thefts their own. My love, my love, why will they never have peace? Why must I always be the one to set their wrongs right. Do not take this badly my love, but I want to move on from you. You still hold me too tightly. A century if half-life, a century. I cannot bear it. But what shall I do? These orcs are the only thing that keeps your face clear in my mind. I can no longer write songs about you, I can't remember your smell, all I have left is the memory of your broken body. I can't let it go. I won't. It's killing me. I pray to Ilsare Az'atta every night for some mercy and I dont know if I shall ever find it.
-
**Walking by the Crimson Eagle Memorial, an idea blossoms in to Gel'larian's brain. He immediately pulls out his journal and jots down a few ideas.*
-Focus on the Music of the Harmony and connect with the arrow.
-Draw Al'Noth in to my connection with the arrow.
-Allow my singing to excite the arrowhead to an unthinkable state.
What will happen I wonder? I will try this, and see if there are any results.
-
That Dark Elf was a bastard, plain and simple, filled with the arrogance of wizards and not concerned for a moment about the repercussions of walking openly on the surface. To make matters worse this filth repelled my attacks with such ease that I was as a baby and he a giant. My bow began to make dents but his clothing was made of some flexible metal and I made little more than scratches. His eyes mocking me are like a festering wound in me and woe be to the next dark elf unfortunate enough to cross my path.
Afterwards I was left with this ball of nervous energy. Not the usual rush of combat, something with more emotional weight. I felt as if Ilsare took the passion of my encounter and transform it into something creative. I tried singing afterwards, but it felt forced, like pants too tight. And so I left it.
My travels, took me to Whitehorn and Silkwood to gather enough materials to make a massive sum of oak arrows. On this trip I worked with the brave Azk'a. My bow and his axe were quite a compliment, and many goblins, kobolds and giant insects fell to us.
We had a little tag along as well. A naive moon elf by the name of SehKy. As fortune would have it (or divine will?), he also was a follower of the Heartsong. He was very eager to learn but I found he had more to unlearn. He was all books and rules and principles. There was no room in his life for discovery, inspiration and creation. I was quite hard on him, perhaps because he reminded me of myself (especially when I visited the Great Library), but his enthusiasm was more potent than his discouragement and he heeded me well.
This talk with him served me well because after talking about the simple ideas of creation, the tension I felt from my encounter with the dark elf burst like a dam. I think I made 3000 arrows in a manner of days, and all of them bore powerful runes that I merely improvised. They swirled in my eyes with Al'Noth and I felt within them the potential for the if ideas that came to me some months ago. These runes I discovered become more and more potent at the notes of my voice, filling with potent energy. I think once I learn how to escalate them more, I could cause them to explode, like a glyph of warding.
Surpassing that though, each of these arrows is like a child to me. They have their own unique beauty, each telling a story of my heart. I will maybe start putting together a collection of the most descriptive (if that word is apt), and show them in Hempstead.
I am going to journey to the Brech's today, towards danger I think. If these be my last words, then I want the world to know I may be found in an archer's range, and among the mountain tops.
In Ilsare's Eyes,
Gel'larian Windsbreath
*He takes his journal and leaves it at the temple in Hlint, instructing the cleric on duty to deliver it to Ulgrid's fortress if he does not return after 3 months.*
-
I cannot believe my life. I have lived almost 190 years. I am still ambushed by the movement of the heart. She is beautiful. Those eyes should be commemorated in a painting to hang in the halls of emperors. Her lips are soft and sensual. She has passion and, evidence of her band aside, is a spontaneous and exciting soul. So whats the problem?
I know. I can't be a coward here as well. How can I tell her she cannot compare to a ghost? Should I even say I left my heart in the Gloom Woods almost a century ago? I am pathetic for even thinking these things. I am crippled by a love that ended in awful bloodshed. I am supposed to be free now, but I am chained to that time, a slave to memory. I have no exit, no recourse.
Perhaps this woman can quiet the ghosts for a time. Perhaps I can be something more than a shell for her. I will see where I go. Ilsare save us.
-
I have travelled across the magma plains of Firesteep and to different threads, but this has been my greatest challenge. I can honestly say that Zarianna is like the epitome of Xeen. Pain and pleasure in one irresistible box. On the one hand, she is a beauty of rarity and exsquisiteness. A face and form akin to mist through sunshine: a marvel to behold, it's source, seemingly from the air itself. Her spirit is like an eartquake, unstoppable and moves me to my core. Her flaws make her more endearing too, despite her protests to the contrary. I see how she has been hurt and I only want to take care of her more. When she pushes me away, I want to run like the wind after her. And what a creative soul, every moment to be filled with something new.
But as wonderful as that is, alas, hearts do not mark forms or time, only feelings. My heart is raging amidst this new calamity. Sometimes I feel as if I am back in the Sillwood, Larina's arrow-pierced body dying in my arms. In fact, down in the caves underneath the forest of fogs, when Zari fell to the giant archer, she, hair golden, eyes bright, looked the same to my eyes and I could smell the birch that surrounded me and Larina that dark night.
What am I to do? I cannot live between two worlds. It is not fair to me, not fair to Zarianna. She deserves someone who can heal her; not someone who becomes enraged at her half-brothers harmless posturings. I need to say goodbye to my past, somehow. Otherwise my raging heart will consume us both.
She is brave though. To see her fight giants is an inspiration, for she is not Zakariem or Azk'a. And when the crack of magic emanates from her being I feel my own soul stirred. I feel the pull of destiny with her at times: how is it that she finds my broken body, on Krashin a thousand statutes from home before I slip through the stones and kisses life back in to me? How is that not proof of some divinity? Which is why I must find peace. I will make more arrows of beauty, instruments, and try and emulate the great Janice of Bands, and in to these arts I will try and pour my heartache. I know I can do this, I must be courageous.
The Heartsong is my own too.
-
I am not certain of what to make of the events in that little town. Folks in Boyer Kingdom are almost dwarf-like in their labours. I am sure it suits them well but what is worse is there seems no place for diversion there. Well, they certainly diverted for a time. Next I see Stygian I might want to find out more. Play him though, try and get his trust back. There is more that needs be learned. I feel heartless saying that, seeing as he murdered so many of those townspeople but if it might stop him from some future evil, then it is well done.
What a terrible thing to witness. I have seen my share of death, but innocents always have the most horrible look on their faces when they pass. It is a reminder of how tightly we all cling to life.
Perhaps that coloured me when Zari and I returned to Fort Wayfare. I had already said my piece to the human Andrew, telling him to watch himself in the future. He said we should talk and when I saw him by the pond here I marched for battle and threw the first punch, metaphorically speaking.
Andrew disputed the truth of Zari's words which only made me madder and then Zari got involved. The intensity rose and I found myself, surprised as well, pushing him into the lake. Zari raged at my possessiveness and ends up apologizing to the boor! I receive scorn and he gets forgiveness. But what cut me to the quick was her saying was merely replacing her with Larina. I almost gave up right then. But then I would only have run from myself. And that is the awful truth. Because she is right. I did that. Again. I have to stop.
It is getting better, as I write this, I have been living in Leringard for two weeks and I have not felt the animal insde. But it is dangerous. Too dangerous. I am afraid that I might do something evil. I have to check myself. I did well with the Rorfireinite Priest, Daniel, who seems to have feelings for Zari. But I had giants to distract me there. Maybe I will use them to distract my rage. Unleash it there. That is something I can do.
-
Why is it that one thing seems to go well and so another has to fall? In the one hand the connection between Zari and I has become even stronger. I was so happy to see her on the pier, the kiss we shared by the river may have earned us a passion band had a Nave been wandering by. I feel better about Raz even, although I am fairly sure he is messing with me. She even said she loved me! Yes she immediately regreted it, yes she denied it later, but what a step forward! I can't wait to see the next day and the next. I can't wait to see Ilsare heal our hearts.
On the other side is this SehKy. Blast him. I offered my help, a way in to Ilsare's light and all he can do is say, "I can't sing like you!". Can't he see it is not about his song, but about his heart. Ingrate! Why doesn't he get it? Doesn't he know I want him to discover the beauty I have found? Discover the pounding in his chest when the Al'Noth connects him to the world? Maybe he doesn't know. Maybe I can't get through. Maybe I should not try. Zari will know.
-
In the sea of events the last week, I don't really know where to start. Zari? Voltrex? The Soul Mother? It all feels as one thing, one happening. I learned something about the power of family. I miss mine, I never thought I did but I do. Deeply. I thought I had one with Larina, but more and more I realize how young I was when I was with her. How much I was learning, and not giving back, how immature. But now, lying on the shores of Lake Corax, I think I have found a new family, to protect and learn with and create with. But most importantly love; I feel asnif the thaw on my heart is diminishing in the light of her golden eyes. The freedom that Larina promised me, I think I must now take myself. And I must. Bonds too deep were promised on Voltrex and after Alazira's testament of faith. I must not fail her. Ilsare and all her manifests. I must fly true.
-
Giants have become a door of woe. I was caught by the stones well enough and then spent weeks, how many I know not, composing "The Desert's Dirge". Inspired by the pain and suffering I come to expect nothing less from the children of Grannoch. But I vow to put an end to that. I already have been learning of the Forest Giants, when they sleep, where they go for water, there breeding times. The Desert Giants will be tougher. I must find out when they will go to which oasis, when they follow what hunts are to be had in the Great Desert, but I am long lived, and I will know my enemy better than it knows itself.
But leave the filth for now, a few days after I tatooed myself, Zari got back home. And with her arrived all of the doubt and insecurity I felt in the Forest of Fog. I do not know if she is scared of me some days, or if it is my own fear. It is tumultuous, but I love it. She is still the most exotic and intoxicating person I know. At once vulnerable and uncomplicated to fiery and overwhelming. And then she gives me such gifts! The ability to say goodbye to my parents. I never would have done so without her. I hope I can be a fraction of that to her. That would be a good life.
-
I look at this band on my finger and I can scarcely believe it is there. I knew I had commitment to the Muse, but to actually receive a portion of her wisdom is something I never would have asked for. Feamsil is someone I hope to work with in the future, hopefully once I get the Company of the Muse active. I hope he can display the works we find until the centre in Hempstead is built.
The passion between Zari and I almost has taken on a life of it's own. There was the rage and revelry at Feamsil's villa first (I think we owe him a new furniture set). The more I feel the fire in her blood, the more alluring she becomes, the deeper I love her. I hope she feels the same.
-
I have spent long weeks stalling the giant kin of the desert. Their intelligence and community affinity is quite strong. All the more surprising that they are so aggressive to the outlying communities. Their migrations seem to pattern around a network of oases, the silver mine and the ancient dragons den. They often raid communities near this circle of influence as much for supplies as sport. They are talented at hiding their numbers as they trek across the sand; using leaves to bruush their tracks, walking in single
file, but I can now tell wind patterns from leaf brushes and the subtelty of their weight impressions. I have been watching the more advanced in age too, to try and ascertain what the weakest parts of their physiology are, so that I know where best to land my arrows.
In my restful moments I found my thoughts drawn back to my visit with Zari's parents. It baffles me that they do not see more of the strength in her than she warrants. They vaguely condescend to her and hide it behind a mask of remorse, duty and nostalgia. I caught them whispering about her more than once and they gave me the greeting a wolf might get dining with deer. Perhaps it is their simple life, but they do not understand the strength of my word; a quality that dwarves often criticize my race for. So, as marvelous as it is to see where Zari learned her effervescence, and where she strengthened her aversion to "swear jar" activities, I was glad to be gone. Mostly because I could not take her having to hide her heart from them any longer.
I suppose it is my turn now. I'll have to make some warm clothes for her.
-
And it was such a nice day. Nothing ruins it like someone concussing you because you were drawing two foot long arrows away from the others. I never liked her anyway, Dot. Hewing corpses? Occasionally spitting I might do, but to try and spill more blood than you already have demonstrates a certain emotional instability that is dangerous. How can I get back at her though? She is obviously a more skilled warrior. Perhaps I should just let it alone and time will present my opportunity.
I am starting to get some momentum in my research in to lost artworks. I at least have some titles and descriptions to go by. Nothing yet to give me locations, but progress is progress. The stolen statue that Zari told me about is intriguing. If it can bring some optimism to the dreadful Vehl atmosphere then I am all for stealing it back. I am going to try and find out more.
-
I have been unfocused when I have been arrow-making, not quite able to find my rhythm in carving out arrows. I hope that when piece of my soul was wrenched away that it took that piece of creativity with it. My sewing has been unaffected, as has my gem-cutting so I hope this shall pass.
That Viper woman was interesting. She is the first mercenary I have met and I am intrigued. She was very intense and not the least bit hampered by her mute condition. She had a very provocative ease to her movements. I am not sure if it was that or the allure of trues that drew me to a possibly life-changing decision, but I think I will go to the Harpy and try and make myself available for some work. Not "wet work" but just to see what will come.
I am also ready to start my "Company of the Muse". I have it on good authority that some bandits in Alindor, near Mariner's Hold waylaid a shipment of paintings in the hopes of selling them to private collectors. I hope to liberate them and begin our collection of restored artworks. I hope I shall find blades and bows enough to aid.
Zari... Well she is the rock in my life right now. If I need guidance, passion, excitement, inspiration or companionship, she is that. Our fights are less explosive now, more focused. Like we can see each others hearts better and can push to resolve in a more efficient fashion. Like a smokeless fire. She makes me feel clean, clear and puissant.
If only my arrows were as inspired, I would not now be closer to my grave.
-
It is so wrong. It was supposed to be a joyous time, filled with celebrations and promises and new bonds fulfilled. I can't believe how quickly the painful ties of the past once again ruined our happiness. It's gotten it's claws in to us. Zari is so terrified of the damage she has suffered that she is convinced that Zira's happiness is a plague. Raz, well I am not sure what his problem is, but he has some terrible fear of these new babies too. And me, I am holding on to this new family so tight that I am lost. I want to protect all of them, so I find myself hurting one to protect another. It's insane. I don't know what to do, how to do the right thing, or even if there is a right thing. There is only one right thing. The fulfillment of Aeridin's will. It is only in his providence to Zira that anything makes sense. I can't believe i am saying this, but I am not sure love can solve this. I think that only the miracle that Zira carries in her can truly bring healing. I hope so, I see no other way.
-
Gods, my soul has been broken asunder to reveal it's short and stumpy ugliness. My heart is like a lodestone that will drop clean through my organs with all the subtelty of a giants footstep. Where does music such as that derive from? Is Jaelle Ilsare's personal representative? Is that violin a gateway to the paradise of the Muse's imagination? I am dumbfounded. I must learn more.
-
I have been studying and reading more than an anti-social wizard. I fill my days questioning the artists at the Muse. Everyday for a month since I spoke with Jilseponie here. There is such a rich tradition here, so much reverence for the past that it seems a wonderous mantle to carry forward in the future. Next I plan on travelling to Blackford Castle to see if I can trace more of a histrical timeline of the works there. Perhaps Zari will join me there for a vacation.
-
I travelled to the spider-infested caverns of the Silkwood to see if any relics of adventurers past could be found. To no avail. Persistence will be the key, thank Aeridin I am blessed with a long life. After that I made my way to the Tower Academy to see if I could find any interesting tales. Not a sniff, but perhaps I do not understand their libraries content or organization. I think my next trip will be to the bandit infested roads south of Mariner's Hold and then onwards once again to the Fort of Kings. I hope Zari does not
mind all this time on the road. I promised us a vacation, and apparently we are to go to some exotic island in Huangjin or Tilmar or something. I can't wait for the sand, water and passion.
-
The journey to the Dragon Isles was a great success. I travelled with Zari, Azk'a, Galiant and Lana deep in to that land, and finally to an ancient maze-like structure. At the heart of it was a large chamber where after many long hours of digging, mostly by Azk'a, we unearthed a beautiful Golden Harp. It was attributed to an un-named musician who played it for his love in life. Sadly it seems that bliss was not his, but still he left the harp as a tribute to those who would search after love and passion. I took the harp to the Breath of the Muse, where restoration on it has begun.
In the meantime I have been preparing an expedition to descend in to the depths of the Broken Halls. Tales of elven lore say that one might find any number of amazing artifacts from its glorious past. I hope that my sister Alazira can join us as the rumors of vampire activity down there cannot be dismissed out of hand.
-
The trip to the Broken Halls was very illuminating. I have never before seen such a tragedy of culture. The structure is sublime in its construction, and spectacular melding of form and function. The grotto of statues was truly transporting, I spent a good time with my party soaking in their ancient tales.
When we came to the central chamber, there was not much left but dust and bones, but I did manage to retrieve a small set of poems, some better preserved than others.
I transcribed a copy of them for myself, and have transported the originals to the Breath to be preserved and displayed.
Another successful expedition lead Zari, Raz, and Andrew to a fortress of marauding goblins. We found there a beautiful depiction of a pitched battle between one of Rael's troops and a Prantzian knight in the middle of the street. It is said that this painting was done by an artist from a nearby while the battle raged. He barely escaped with his life. Before finding a safe haven, his caravan was attacked by these goblins, who took all the valuables. This painting was still packed away, I assume it did not jingle and that was discouraging, along with a portrait of a young girl.
The two paintings were taken. The depiction of the battle I have brought to the Breath, but the portrait I hope to pass on to the subject or her descendants, if I may.
It has been difficult to commit time to the search, but it is still in my mind. All this business with the bind-chasers has been dis-concerting. At first I was cocky in defiance, travelling to the seediest places, looking for some coward to challenge me. I used these confrontations as a way to get the message out that the price of these bounties is not worth it, and that people should think twice about whom and why they are attacking.
That is all the control I can muster though. I was in Center when a little girl came in and told Argali, Laz, that of an orc and myself about a raid. We arrived only in time to find a massacre completed. We cleaned up the bind-chasers left to looting, and as I write this, I am on the hunt to see if they are part of a larger organization. Revenge is in my thoughts, but I must temper this. After all these are people trying to make their way like me or anyone else. I will give them a chance, but not two.
-
The night is dark, so are the times,
When man leaves man to die.
For true, for pain, for glory gained,
these reasons all are lies.
Do you see the blood of neighbors loved,
spilt on the soil you till?
Do you believe that no one grieves,
for these stonebound hearts now still?
Dont walk around in ignorance.
Dont turn a blind eye.
Dont let the heart of cruel Kuhl,
Convince you of a lie.
If you would travel world round,
Untold marvels you would see.
But none would bring your heart to sing,
More than your childrens glee.
Dont let the spite of arm-ed might,
In those who seek to gain,
Take from your kids, take from your cribs,
A future free of pain.
Dont walk around in ignorance.
Dont turn a blind eye.
Dont let the heart of cruel Kuhl,
Tell you Stonebound should die.
There is a war that rages now.
Its fire do cross the lands.
But what can you, in despair do,
With these fair farmers hands.
I say this now, that this is how,
You can bring you part of peace.
Let Chasers find, if they seek the Bind,
A kick from boot to teeth.
Dont walk around in ignorance.
Dont turn a blind eye.
Dont let the heart of cruel Kuhl,
Make your people cry.
Now I dont think Stonebound are gods,
Nor better than the rest.
But I know, the fear Kuhl sows,
Creates worldwide unrest.
You people here, do know this fear,
This daughter more than most.
They turned her ma and so her pa,
Into a rumored ghost.
Dont walk around in ignorance.
Dont turn a blind eye.
Dont let the heart of cruel Kuhl,
Make lions in to flies.
So now I ask with great respect,
Courage now to brew,
To show foul men, in foul dens,
That goodness now will shine.
For if we fight with collective might,
No bandits can hold sway,
If we do not bend, safety will mend,
And peace will have the day.
Drive out the bind-chasers,
Drive them to the sea.
Drive out the will of Kuhl,
Show them Center free.
-
I returned from Blackford in the night, the house quiet. Razeriem was off, somewhere and Zari was in her reverie. I immediately set upstairs, the image burning in my mind even a week after seeing it. All teeth and malice, arrogance and elegance, made more potent by the worries of Connor and Annalee. I went upstairs, and found a reasonably clean canvass of Zari's, took some oil paints and began.
For the next few weeks, I painted whenever I could, getting the face outside of me, so it could have a life of its own and not depend on my imagination to persist. Zari was exasperated at me because it was all I thought of for that period, and it was a gruesome portrait if there ever was one. Shadows of grey, thrown by the conflict between Caleron's bow and the dark soul of Damascul stood in for their bitter conflict. The eternal war between the light and dark nature of every living thing began to breathe through my brush-strokes.
One rainy night, a few weeks later, there came a knock on the door. The seer returned with a dark warning. She spoke of another vampire, a female, perhaps in service to Damascul. Is this Lannathul? She said that Caleron was captured and toyed with and she told me of a creature that watched and laughed, that persists still, that hunts her, maybe us now. A guardian of evil? A shadow of Damascul? An elder vampire as Connor mused? Cloudy with wine, and tight with apprehension I returned to the canvas and looked upon it: something was not missing. I took a small brush, barely two hairs together, and in the pupil of my subject painted the pained face of Caleron, or was it me? Once finished, the similarity of the figure disturbed me.
The Blood River calls. With every creation, one must muddle through the darkness to find understanding. So I wander now in a muddled darkness, more questions than answers inhabit my brain, but the pull of Caleron's mastery and Ilsare's glory call me on. It is time to travel once again.