Freldo Jabutica's Journal and Letters, Volume One

[SuperMunch]

Where to start?

Acacea's tale, Rhynn's touch of depression, Addison's depression and condition, Annalee's condition and Cole's interview.

If I had enough time, each of these topics by themselves are worthy of a book but as it is, I'll only be writing a book on Cole and the girls will have to accept a journal entry with not-so-many facts but a lot of truths.

Facts are cold, hard and universal but the truth is filtered and individual.

I'll depart from telling the facts in this entry so that I can tell what I think, what I consider to be truths.

Acacea

Fact: She told us the tale of the Soul Mother's absence in the past few years.

Truth: It wasn't the story that moved me as much as her telling of it.  When she spoke, played and sang I noticed something that I hadn't noticed before about myself: I do not tell tales.  It's time I stopped just learning about these fantastic stories and started telling them.

I've heard Ozymandias and Acacea enough to learn how it's done, I guess I really should step up and try my hand at it.  The only problem is that most of my tales are second hand and, on top of that, I really don't have all that much to say.

What can I tell them of the events that are shaping the world?  I've been here and there, but nothing that I've been involved in has shaped the world - just the lives of a scant few.  I can retell the tales I've heard but I lack a part in them, I lack the affinity necessary to sell a story.

Folks today don't seem to be intrested in tales of old and of the deeds that are happening under their noses and that also poses a problem.  Despite the tales that Acacea and Master Plenarius had - of the Soul Mother and of Shadow and the Broken (Sundered) Forest, there was very little intrest in the new folks.

"Kids these days" - they say.

"Kids these days" - I say.

Rhynn

Fact: She's as pretty as always and is getting a lot better in her craft.

Truth: She has been pushing everybody away from her, even her friends, her tutor and myself.

When her mood swings low, she's close to unbearable - so foul that I find myself avoiding her again, to my own shame.

"Dump her," was what I heard.  "I can't, I still have faith in her" was my unspoken answer.  I have faith that she will come to understand that ravenously clininging to "her way of doing things" is not a way to live.  Others learn, in time, that compromise between what I want and what you want is a better way to go through life - that and lasting friendships, even with folks that you might not have that much in common with.

At the same time as she pushes others away by denouncing them for not sharing her view, she pays heed to words uttered to intentionally offend her.  A shady drow started calling her slave and she hung around to hear him out!  The paladin fellow that so sings her praise - that offend her for some reason - annoys her yet she stays in her place imagining he would stop!  I have given up on this part about her, I will not change her for myself - she will have to do it for her own sanity and sake.

However, I did force my will upon her when I told her to give up on sacrificing herself to save Cole and Mith.  She said she had promised this to Annalee but was regretting it.  I don't understand her in this - promises are made to be kept, hence I make no promises.

Earlier Rhynn was upset that Addison was going to track down the Soul Mother to get Cole back, if he was lost.  Others willing to die for the right thing is wrong but her sacrifice for all the wrong ones is right?  Forgive me Rhynn, but that makes no sense - they deserve to see their children but Rhynn has no business telling their wives what not to do.

Addison

Fact: She's a great fighter, she's pregnant and, for this and other reasons, will have a hard time if Cole ever dies for good.

Truth: She's cracking and I'm afraid she will do something stupid if the worse happens.

Addison took Treana, Maev, Exodus and I on a trip around Dregar, from south to north and the only thing we didn't fight was the drake.  At one point we were aided by Daren, to Maev's luck since she fell in the silver caverns in the desert.  It was a great trip with an impressive showing of Addison's skill, Treana's willingness to fight, Maev's need for more focus in battle - she fights well but needs to learn how to survive more, I used most of my healing potions on her and Exodus' dwarven battle fury is almost as fantastic as Addisons'.

All the trip, Addison being in danger, she was pregnant.  Rhynn told me she was pregnant much later but, being afraid of Addison's wrath, I kept quiet until things presented themselves so I could seize it.  In the forests of Roldem, I had my chance as Cole chided her for endangering his child.  I hadn't noticed how radiant she was - the glow a woman gets when she's with child - until I stopped her and called her a fatty.

At the end of our trip in Dregar, we stopped at the Weeping Willows and saw the Tomb of Fallen Heros where the remains of Gotak Gungur were freshly placed in a brilliant tomb worthy of a mighty dwarven warrior.  I choked back tears for the room was empty except for various mounds prepared to receive the remains of the next fallen hero which might just be Addison child's father.

I have known her for a while and I've grown very fond of her and to see her in pain of the heart, not that of swords, tears at my soul.

I was a mess - but I did what I could to keep an optimistic front for the darkest of my fears.

It wasn't until I was adventuring with her and Cole in Roldem, well after Rhynn's swing from interrupting grief to foolish sacrifice, that I made my choice about Addison's plan.  I will stand by her and I will do what she thinks best - not only for my love of Cole but for my love of Addison also.  As her former teacher turned lover, she has showed nothing but kindness for me and my shenanigans and, if the worst comes, all of my love for him will be placed on her and I will follow her in her choice, however desperate it may be.

And Rhynn will not come, not in her state of doubt and fear of the world undoing itself because of a single man.

It will be Addisons quest and whoever else of chose to come, and I might even see the Soul Mother's face.

Annalee

Fact: A sister in song and lover of nature, her wedding to Mith has drawn her into a new, brighter world.

Truth: I fear for her more than I fear for Addison.

As with Addison, she is with child (Rhynn told me).

As with Addison, her husband is near leaving the folds of the world for good.

As with Addison, Rhynn has stated she will sacrifice herself for her husband - but with a real reason this time, as Mith is her tutor.

However...

Unlike Addison, Annalee lacks hotbloodness to desire him back.  At least in what I know of her.

Unlike Addison, Annalee lacks obvious bullheadedness to not give up.  At least in what I know of her.

Unlike Addison, I have only now started to develop a better relationship with Mith.

I seen very little of her for some reason, I usually hear her singing in the High Forest when I pass through - respecting nature of course, in my affection for Annalee - but I don't see much of her.

I lie...  I do see her often with Mith but he intimidates me and I can respect his lack of need for my silliniess.  As I stated above, my relationship with him is still to fresh but my friendship with Annalee extends to him, by default.

In time, her child will reveal itself and I'll call her chubby - but until then I'll let it play itself out.

Cole

Fact: Warrior, mage and friend.  Layonara will be a sad place without his friendly, gruff hands.

Truth: Warrior, mage and friend.  I will be sad without his friendly, gruff hands.

I said farewell to him in Dregar, near Pranzis, promising that I wouldn't let Addison drink while she bore his child.  It was also my promise to care for her if anything happened to him, just like how I've tried to protect him in the recent past, I even took up new spells to be able to help him and her, whenever I'm around.

He as touched me in so many ways - the first was taking me to Firesteep where I first met her.  Then I met him on the way to the T'oleflor where he told me that he hardly knew me (which I said was true but that it didn't matter).  Then he took me around Dregar and finally to Tibum where I first saw the destruction Bloodstone can bring.  Then it was time to explore Dregar and Roldem with Rhynn - and he taught her how to better use her magic to aid fighters which I'll take her around to practice, if she's calm enough to focus.

There are many tales that I can tell of him in the first person and there are many more he told me when I interviewed him after the tales were told at the Leilon Arms.  He even gave me access to his room and to his notes and letters - he might have been a brute, but he was a very smart brute - all his notes were neatly organized - so that I could elaborate more on his tale.

I might never know what Acacea stopped being his number one bard, but I have very large shoes to fill and I'll do my best to fill it, in case worst comes to pass.

I know that if worse passes, I will be by Addison's side in whatever she choses to do.

I wished him safety in his travels when we parted near Pranzis but what I wanted to say was how much I'd miss him if he ever left, how much I love him.

No live is worth the lives of many, however, on a rare day, a single person is.

/*  OOC:
Come on, you tell your fathers you love them, there's nothing strange with a guy loving another.  Besides, Freldo is Ilsarian.

Oh, I also write this knowing Cole has permed...  I tried to write without "knowing" it, but it was hard - hence a very late monday post.  

2006.05.23 edit: I left an incomplete sentence up there, fixed it - I think.
*/

[SuperMunch]

Since he gave me permission, I've been going through Cole's notes, journal and chest for the past weeks.  For a mercenary with more apparent muscle than brains, he sure has a lot of brains!  Much more than is generally known, in fact, he's pretty smart!

With his journal, letters received, notes and story he told me when I interviewed him I can paint a pretty good portrait of him - which was just what I wanted, a glimpse into a persons life and he did document it very well.

His travels aren't well documented, I'm sure he did a lot more than what he wrote into his journal, but what he did write is very intresting by itself.  His training with the greatsword, his donations to the orphanage he grew up in, his teachings to a young man who wanted satisfaction, his companions of when he was called and how many of them had gone missing.  Names of ones, mention of others, I'll be sure to keep an eye out for them and tell them and talk to them to understand how lived young Cole.

About his companions, I sensed in his writing sadness - as though he was receiving a torch from one generation and holding on to it until a new generation came along so he could pass it on.  It's tragic that now, as his life grows dim - the fate for all that fight - none of those that marked his life can be found for another drink, another round of laughter or another tale.

At least I haven't seen Cole around folks that I've never seen before.

Cole's torch is bright, he grew from misery to greatness with fierce loyalty.  From gathering coins fallen to the ground to rolling in wealth - which he invested into his gear - he grew into a generous man that would hunt and gather happily and freely for his friends.  From fragile, humble boy he grew into a stout warrior with talents in the arcane.  Orphan to soldier, to mercenary, to blademaster.  Lonely to beloved.  Scorned to loved.  Humble, always humble.

If worse ever comes, I will stand by his legacy and continue his work.  I can't ever be a tenth of what Cole is, but I'll do my best to be the best tenth part of him I can.  I'll stand with Addison in whatever she choses to do, I'll care for his child in whatever way I can, I'll seek out those he knew and I'll help his first home, his orphanage.

If he leaves, he would leave a great deal of orphans, not just those here in Leilon - but those that will sit and remember him, write about him and talk about him with fondness.

Well, I sure hope he manages to give me the rest of his notes that he leaves in the bank.

Now, I'm off to Leilon's Home for Delinquents, if the children were afraid of Cole, I imagine they'll have fun with me and besides, I want to see that pretty girl he wrote about...

Poor Rhynn, I just hope she knows that she's still the one for me.  I know my pasture is green enough, a shame folks don't understand this and think less of me.

Anyway, pretty girl in fifteen minutes!

... written slightly later ...

Make that three hours, despite living in Leilon all my life, I never once managed to not get lost in this city.  I took a lap around the city and ended up here again.  I think I'll ask for instructions this time.

[SuperMunch]

The curtain has fallen,
The lights are out,
The actor has gone,
The stage is now empty.
The show has ended it's run.

Ended in it's height,
Ended before it's time,
Ended.

Yet the audience, still on their feet,
In front of their seats, still applaud.
They will stand and clap,
Never moving an inch,
Never pausing to rub their hands.
In front of that stage, they will acclaim.

They cheer and bellow,
Knowing no one is listening,
Director, writer, actor... gone.

The stage is now gone, ruined walls and rotted seats,
The crowd still applauds with joy.
New ones arrived, brought in by stories
Spread by the heralds of their clapping.
Time passes, the crowd waxes and wanes
But time still passes and memories are washed away.

Now, of those few that are still there,
None had seen it, the rest have only heard,
But they still applaud.
The legend, the myth, the fable.
Of the show called Cole.

Cole is dead.  Long live Cole!

Fortune smiles on us all, some have it shine in flashes, some seem guarded by it and some seem to be shunned by it.  For me, fortune smiles at my every step, as though the gods want me around for some reason and I'm begining to understand it.

Fortunate I was to talk to him before his end, fortune has it that he gave me his notes and journal, fortune has it that I said goodbye, fortune has it that I knew him, at least a little.  Instead of grief, I recall his face laughing, his strangely soft hands, Addison, Wicked and his bags and bags and bags of tinder.

Much do I have to write about what has happened, but I'll recall his final words to me on the shores of Lake Corax and start from there.

"Take care of her Freldo..."

Addison

I've come to know her to the point that it's no use to keep her locked up and away from her vices - be it drink or fight - so I'll pander to her with lesser evils.  A fine wine I had brewed from the finest grapes from Pranzis - better than her whiskey, my invisible help and healing when she decides to kill things and a plea for sanity when she decides to face certain in the shape of the gloom.

She is inconsolable but the privledge of grief is not only hers.  I want her to know how I also grieve him, how I miss him but, being as thick skulled as she is, she already rejects my grief because it's not like her own.

She is now mine to protect, if I can find her.  I cannot fight her fights but I can make her fight safer and with more power, hopefully I can learn how to make my spells last longer to be able to give her a greater edge for longer periods of time.

Rhynn

From up to down to up to down again in a minute.

I tell her I don't mind settling down, having kids, retiring from adventures, becoming a story teller and growing old with her.  Yet I hear an anxious "When?" as a reply.

She expects that we can act in the same role in combat, when we clearly cannot - I am the second line, I run with the fighters and keep spirits up, her role is to strike from afar yet when she sees me break and flee, she stupidly engages my pursuer.

She expects that my protection of her works both ways, she cannot do what I can, she doesn't have my experience in battle and she doesn't have my stamina - yet she thinks she can protect me.  She should first learn how to protect herself.

All that said, I scolded her.  I know my affections get in the way of clear thought but what can I do?  She has already lost a thread of her soul in the past month while I have only been killed once in the past year.

She comes back by telling me that she doesn't die with others, my response in fury would have been "go with them" and leave.  For my love of her I listened and tried, futilely, to reason with her but we left it at that since we parted on another run of Dregar.

[SuperMunch]

Dear Jennara,

With the passing of our friend Cole, I have taken it upon myself to write his story.

Since you have known him for a while, I would like, if you're willing, your thoughts on our lost friend such as what you found most endearing in him, what you most liked about him and so on.

Please send me a bird with your reply or look for me in Hlint or at the Leilon Arms.

Thank you very much.

Signed,
Freldo

......

Dearest Addison,

I should ask you this in person but I believe a letter, even being less personal, is the best way to approach you on this matter.

I have decided that I will write the tale of Cole and since you are the mother of his child, I would like your thoughts on our beloved friend.

Talk to me about it if you wish as I'll always have an ear for you.

Signed,
Freldo

......

Lalaith,

We have not met but we shared a mutual friend, Cole Norseman.

Before his parting from the circles of this world, he allowed me access to his notes and letters and I saw that you had recently been in contact with him.

I do not wish to know of the reasons, nor will I ever disclose it's contents but I can tell that you had him as a trustworthy companion.

As for the reason and intent of this letter, I am a humble bard that had the privledge of knowing a Cole and as need would have it, I have taken it upon myself to write Cole's story.  If I may and you are willing, are there any thoughts or cherished memories that you would like to share about Cole?

If you wish to talk to me, I am easily recognized by my turquoise or teal garb.

I thank you for your time and I humbly hope to talk to you or receive a bird message.

Signed,
Freldo

......

Lady Reventage,

I do not know if you remember me, but a mutual and departed friend of ours, Cole, introduced us a long while ago at the temple of The Lady of Dreams in Hlint.

I humbly send you this bird for two reasons, the first is that I ask of you a few words about Cole, the second is that I seek your blessings on my first true labor of love, the writing of Cole's story.

Of the words about him, I would like your thoughts on him as he seemed well at ease with you and you with him.  From his journal, that was left in my hands shortly before his passing, mentioned how many times he was cared for by our beloved temple in Hlint by Calise and her predecessors.  He many not have been a religious man but he did hold a place in his heart for The Heart of Gold and, as I read onwards in his journal, for you, my lady.

As for my work, I will write about him so that his name will not die with time.  Despite all his flaws, he was a man that loved what he did, his passion - even if it was for his blade - was known to all.

Please send me a bird or, if you are inclined seek me out, I am know for my turquiose coat.  Red makes me look palid and sickly, I'm pretty sure the Lady can forgive this transgression in my devotion.

May the Lady of Dreams guard us in her love and take Cole in her arms, if she so wishes.

Signed,
Freldo

......

Dearest Acacea,

I had noticed that you and Cole haven't been talking to each other recently and I respect your privacy on this matter but considering the affections that he had for you and you for him when I met you, I humbly ask that you share with me your a dearest memory or two of our lost friend.

Please know that Cole never mentioned to me a reason as to why you didn't speak to him anymore so I can only presume that he held you close to his heart until the end.

Seek me out or send me a bird whenever you have the time.

Also, as his Number One bard and if it's not to much trouble, do you remember any name of other close associates of Cole that you are willing to share with me?

[SuperMunch]

Delinquents?

Leilon's Home for Delinquents, such a bad name for such a nice place.  Mind you, not all the kids there are angels but to call them all delinquents is very unfair.  I wonder if Delinquent for them means "children with no hope"?  As I sat and told them tales and filled them with stories of the world, they lit up and we filled with joy as though hope of being able to do deeds of worth came to them.

The first time I went, I was there as a friend of Cole as I didn't know of his sad fate at the hand of the trolls.  The second, I knew but I didn't have the courage to tell the headmistress, the ache was still too strong - I told little tales of Cole's adventures and I told them of the evil froggies, Kua Toa, that Cole took me to see and, at the end, he smashed them all.

While the pain hasn't lessened, recent events, have allowed me my smile back.  Cole's soul may have left our presense but he still lives on within each one of us and so I gathered as many instruments as I could make, as much food as I could buy and borrow from the Leilon Arms and as much gold as I could spare and went to tell the headmistress of Cole's passing.

I expected sadness from her but when I finally told her the news as we sat on a sofa in her office - she prized in telling me it was due to Cole's dealings that the sofa was given to them.  After the first hand account of his final day and second hand accounts of his end.  The news was a bomb, the light of the room seemed to drain as the headmistress looked at me for the longest instant before understanding what I had just told her.

She sat strong, fighting tears and despair, summoning strengths from years of dealing with children in terrible shape and nursing them into good citizens.  I felt her breaking and saw in her eyes the mirror of my own despair and I broke in tears as the waves of guilt for having left him swept over me.  At once she took me in her arms and tried to comfort me - a comical scene considering that my intent was to do the comforting and she, the weaping.

We talked more when tears passed and laughter, from fond memories of him rushed back - I had tales of his swordsmanship and keen insight and she had tales of his generosity and fondness of the home.  She told me of Cole's dedication, of how much he cared for the home, of how her predecessor (she wasn't the headmistress when Cole was young - not that I couldn't guess that myself) had told her of the man called Cole, labeled as a mercenary but with a heart of gold, that would drop off presents and gold and tell the children tales.  She told me of how he had brought in Lyn and Steel, of how he cared for them and asked... nay, implored for Lyn to stay at the home.

In time I told her that I am no warrior, able to gather hoards of gold from fallen foes, nor am I capable of helping the home as Cole did with his contacts throughout Mistone and the world but I would do what I can and I presented her with the things I managed to gather.  She was very gracious of course and when she saw the instruments she smiled and told me of how music was missing from the orphanage and I swore I'd teach at least one of the children in the ways of the bard - to which she made a "please don't" face.

Ha!  No respect for bards.

She introduced me to the children as Cole's friend and asked that I tell them of Cole's journeys, after telling them that Cole went away, on a very important mission and wouldn't be back for a long time.  I must have been a sight to see, far removed from Cole's awkwardness, I loved being with the children as I told them lighter stories of my first trip with Cole to Firesteep, of Acacea's little unicorn (I made most of it up, as usual, I never did get the whole story right), of Ashie the Ranger, of Rhynnala the Fair, of Jareg the Madman and of Freldo the Brave.

They enjoyed my tales greatly with rounds of laughter and applause but, needless to say, they didn't buy the story of how I faced a dragon by myself - but it was worth the try.

I told the children of how I had in Cole a friend and that while he is gone, I would be coming by with stories and to teach them to sing and dance - which was greatly welcomed by the few girls but attracted moans from most of the boys.

A little boy came to me and told me how he liked my stories better than Cole's - he said that some of Cole's stories ended in swordfights and always had a fellow called Wicket that would usually save the day.  I smiled at him and said that Wicket would always save the day and that I knew Wicket, one of the mightiest to ever walk Layonara and he was with Cole, protecting him from peril until he returns to tell us all of his voyage to the all of the far corners.

Then I sought out Lyn, which wasn't that hard to do, a lovely half elven girl, at the age where men start promising fortunes to have their ears for a moment.  She looked into my eyes and told me flatly, "he's dead, isn't he?"  I know I don't hide my emotions and I don't think I ever will, so I told her the truth.

Her tears were pure, as a child losing a father.  When she was done with tears I told her that I knew of her story and of her brother's - at least the part that was in Cole's journal.  We talked of Cole's more dangerous deeds, the ones that might scare the children if not told in a lighter way.  We chatted for a while and her sadness for his passing was always there, lingering at the border of an ill chosen word.

In the end, I told her that if I find Steel, I would tell him of his passing - if he doesn't know yet - to which she flashed a slight smile and told me to be prepared, her brother isn't an easy person.  I chuckled and told her that if he happens around, tell him that Freldo the Turquoise Bard means him no harm and he wants to help him, if he can.

I left after the long day at the orphanage refreshed as though I had found a new calling, something to give me the will to carry on - I can make a difference, not as much as Cole could, but I can, at least for those children.

Come to think of it, if those are delinquents and they were lovable, imagine my own children and how lovable they would be, best keep this to myself for now.

[SuperMunch]

I felt like a part of me is missing...

It wasn't until I was sending a bird that I noticed that it had been a while since I had written in my journal.  The pages were finally dry and I had to add a touch of water to my bucket of ink to make it useable again.

Poor journal, after so much abuse... such a long absense on my part.

Things aren't as whole as I would want them to be, I grew beyond my old shell and now I'm in a new one - I think.  New boots, belt, clothing and soon new gloves and cloak, all my size - yet I feel like it doesn't fit, to large, to short, to tight, wrong color...

On second thought, it's not just my shell.  It's who I am, something happened...  My view of the world has changed, responsibility has shown it's face and I am not scared of it anymore.  I'm not ready for what is happening but, as they say, you never are for these things.

On third thought, I am a bard.  I'm Freldo the bard, might as well accept it as a fact now.

Oh well.

I might as well seize what I have and write a little something down... by little I mean a lot.

- Being a simple mistonian boy I know very little of the politics of Dregar.  That is, I knew very little of it until I witnessed the passing of King Waylend.

- Archeology is nice word, but it's a very boring job.

- Rhynn is coming into her powers.  Better now than never... then again, the same might be said for me.

- Cole, Cole, Cole...  It's been a while now, but I still haven't yet managed to write his tale.  A shame most of the folks I'd like to talk to are always so busy.

On King Waylend  (/* Note 1 */)

Katrien had invited little old me to help her in her quest for a better understanding of spinning the weave through song.  As we sat throwing random bards in the Lorindar harbor, gathering our bearings on where we were going, a runner came in from Pranzis searching for Katrien...  Something about a woman and her need to talk to Katrien.

Next thing I knew, I was in the king's chamber with Katrien and company.  In the next moment, as I stood wide eyed next to the princess, the king passed on.

But that wasn't what marked me the most...  It was Katrien's music.

The portrait painted by Katrien's flute moved me deeply.  I had only heard Ozymandia's and Acacea's song but to hear Katrien's flute was as though I found a real use for my abilities with the fiddle, no longer as company for my voice, but as a brush to paint murals.

I'm still timid in it's use but that will change soon enough.

Archeology  (/* Note 2 */)

"Dig a hole, peer in and remove objects, fill the hole and repeat."

"It's a sad day when a bard makes more sense than anybody else."

The first applies to the tedious job of exploring the past... However, once upon a lifetime of an elf, a great discovery occurs.  Orbs and relics from before the Great Cataclysm were unearthed and now it seems that a small group of smart folks in the middle of a larger group of crazy folks, have gathered to discover more about it.

The smaller group is of Jharl, Honora, Rawkwin, Rhynn and I...  Yes, two bards...  The large group of crazy folks varies from pious Maev, through to crazy Maev to dead Maev and takes a stop by at Golem treat Maev before heading into the realm of living rock baiting Maev.

It seems an ancient dragon god of the seas has surfaced and some brigands, followers of Mist, are after something we uncovered or have taken...  Might as well help out doing the two things I do best...

Singing, playing and making jokes.

The third thing, which isn't one of the two things I do best, is the third thing I do best and has even deserved me a new nickname...  Apple.

Rhynn

We talked a while ago about what our goals in life were.

I see the lack of good quality storytellers and I wish to help fill the space, if I'm allowed to.

Rhynn has no greater aspiration than to live her life.

I thought it was a bit pathetic at first but I see her wisdom.  Either we live our lives for us, we live it for others or we find a balance.  It's so much easier to just live it for ourselves - nobody to please but ourselves.  To live for others we vanish in the other and become slaves to the other.  Balance is the hardest - live for ourselves yet still reach out to others.

Rhynn is strong now, she's able to make her own choices and spin the weave to her own liking - sometimes to the point of foolishness (I only hope she's smart enough to know what she's doing).  I trust in her abilities now, I trust her instincts and I trust her - I don't feel the need to treat her like a child anymore but sometimes she seems to want me to.

Anyway, for the past few months my search for lore have led me far away from her, I've been traveling up and down Mistone, left and right of Rilara and even a little in Dregar and Roldem.  I've been making up stories to cover my prolonged absences as I travel from library to library in search of well written tales so that I may learn a thing or two on how to tell a story.  I've even, as I wrote on the previous page, learned that my instruments can become brushes for the background art of my tales and maybe even the main voice in them.

I want to be near her as much as possible but I know we need our own space - I'm the bard that will keep you alive and she's the wizard that will strike down most foes with a sweep of her hand.  We grow and we distance but that doesn't mean our bonds are lessened.

Cole

Of the letters I had sent out, Jennara, Lady Reventage and Lalaith have sought me out - not a peep yet from Acacea or Addison.

Jennara told me very little of Cole but knowing her discipline and dedication to her causes I pieced together a good portratit of who Cole was for her.  Despite being a mercenary that had no real loyalties that she might agree with, she trusted him.  Proven trustworthiness was one of Cole's noblest qualities, enough to merit respect from one so fiercely dedicated as Jennara.

Lady Reventage sent me a letter inviting me for tea...  A shame that when I'm free, she isn't - I guess being Ilsare's High Priestess does carry it's responsabilities, I hope to be worthy of the time she manages to spare me.

Lalaith...  Strange elven woman, hooded and dark, ran up to me (as I did describe myself and I'm pretty hard not to notice) and fondly spoke of Cole - we'll have to set a date for her interview, maybe a nice quiet night in the near future.  It seems they had a special bond of some kind and I'd like to know a little about it as it seems it has something to do with Cole's regenerative abilities.

As for his orphanage, I've been passing buy and dropping off gold, food, instruments and toys I've been making.  It seems, however, that the greatest gift I give the children is that of my tales and songs - children are easily amused so I can't assume that I'm doing a good job based on the faces of children and young adults but they enjoy it greatly, even the folks that work there seem to enjoy them.  One tall tale I told them, that of "Ash the Grouch Gets Eaten by a Grue", had them rolling in laughter more than my personal favorite, "Crazy Jareg and the Hat".

Worth mentioning is that Rhynn told me Steel is a Dragoncalled, a surprise but not yet a complete one since I still haven't been able to find him - I keep staring at every blue-ish fellow that walks around (and isn't a sea-elf) hoping to spot him but, as of yet, no luck.

Well...  I still haven't written Cole's tale.  I know what to write but my time has been so short recently, I beg his pardon and will do so as soon as possible.

/*
It's been a while since I've written and I'm in a bit of a real life rut but Freldo's activities have been pretty much the same, except that he's working hard on wood working (to make wands for Rhynn), gem crafting (to enchant) and cooking (for the Leilon Arms).

Note 1:

Details on the King's passing and events around have been left out of Freldo's journal until Katrien's WLDQ has been completed.  I only mentioned the king's passing because the news is out there and Katrien's playing has now become part of Freldo's development.

Note 2:

Ongoing quest also, skimpy details for now.
*/

[SuperMunch]

As though a wish was granted to those that hate me, I'm a broken man again.

Funny thing is that it's so much easier to deal with this time considering that it came to an end with Rhynn's confession of outright betrayal as though she was right in doing so and I was wrong in not liking it.

What was once precious is now common,
What was once in light is now manure,
What was once cared for is now indifferent,
What was once love, now isn't anything.

All things end, now it's done and I wish her nothing,
Not joy nor sadness, not life nor death.
I simply don't wish her anything.

No more, no less than nothing.

Mith had his fun with her and now laughs as he enjoys destroying me.
Perhaps that was his plan all along, a plot to destroy the spirit of a bard.
He failed, even in such a small task, he failed - all his powers and not even a dent me in a permanent way.

/*
Kids.
*/

[SuperMunch]

... several pages are missing from the journal, not torn or ripped out but cut out with great care ...

When the cat's away, the mice will play.

I was wondering how to best preserve Cole's room here in the Arms Inn and I found the solution - It's now my room.  His decoration and style will still remain with as little modification as possible, just a pair of locked chests for my personal items and an armoire that isn't locked to store my outfits and armor.

I could care less what other might thing of my move, if they can think of someone else that might preserve the room in better shape, let them speak.  I rarely stay at the Inn anyway between travelling to the Great Library, seeking rare books in Port Hampshire and Spellgard and generally running around looking for themes for the next opening of the Leilon Arms, while Kali is away.

That's that, Cole Norseman's room is now my room.

As I emptied my chests from my old room I came across several items that bore vivid memories of a time nearby but so far away, an old bottle of wine, a gem of light and so many other odds and ends of a life wasted.  As I took them to Cole's room I pondered what to do with them, after all, as I can recall, they were of so much value to me at one point but their meaning is now lost as love thrown to an evil tide.  I didn't pack the items in their new home but instead took them to Cole's orphanage along with some fine robes, instruments and toys I carved - perhaps children will give the items new worth and the staff will appreciate the wine and salute it's maker as I no longer will.

I'll miss my old bed, window and desk - the air in it still carries the slightest touch of something rare, now turned common.  Expressie was at the window sill, eagerly awaiting a new message to be sent, chirping and bouncing the way he usually does, I coaxed him back into his cage and led him to his new window, with a nice tree outside with lots of wet soil for him to dig up his morning worm.

Life goes on, in a way.

Kali's song is gone from the halls, Derrick's heavy feet also, the guests are all out on some important errand.  Yet here I am, a beaten and worn desk with a view in front of me this time, Expressie and his friends singing out side and silence in here.

Silence in here.

The sun sets on my heart again and here I sit, pouring myself on these pages.  Nearly a month since the end and the wound has just closed as the other had so long ago - but the scars will remind me of the fate of those that love.

To lose one in such a way is terrible but onward I step, tomorrow is a new day.

Well, I had better get some work done in the kitchen to start preparing for the next opening of the Arms.

[SuperMunch]

... several pages between this entry and the previous one of his journal have been neatly removed, as though he doesn't want himself to read them ...

Dregar, out to get cherries, rye and even more hops but I ended up getting a lot more than I bargained for.

Upon entering Pranzis, on my way to catch a boat to Karthy, I was surrounded by a mob... of two... wishing to tell me of rumors they've heard.  I was tired, my coat was wet and dirty and yet... they wanted to talk to the turquoise bard.  I didn't even bother correcting them as my clothing are no longer turquoise, I've taken a dip in the vats of duller colors, but the idea is still the same.

I stood there.. then sat down... then stood up... then sat down... then stood up and tried to go home... then was forced to sit down again... then became invisible and ran away as fast as I could.

Here I write what I was told:

... several reports are listed below ...

"We've seen..."
"I've heard..."
"Elementals!  Can..."
"Shadows passing..."
"There was a grue..."
"Treason..."
"Moose bit my sister..."
"Descent..."
"Freldo was betrayed..."
"Lights in..."
"Drow and wizards..."
"Conspiracies..."
"The enemy is..."

They even told me my own recent tale, since I don't have the habit of giving out my name when I present myself, they must not have known that I am Freldo and I know that story pretty well.  So much information, too much information in fact...  I must filter it out and prepare it for the Arms Inn opening.

Anyway, that was my trip to Dregar, the next one will be to Lorindar.

After finishing this up, I'm headed to Cole's orphanage, I got a few stacks of simple music I wrote and a few more instruments for the kids, along with a pretty big box of bread and fish for them.

/*
Too much OOC knowledge abuse regarding Freldo going around, I'm not writing details of current events anymore.
*/

[SuperMunch]

Dearest Mother,

Now that I really do live in Leilon and visit you almost every week to tell you of things small and useless I rarely write to you.  This time, however, it's diferent - we are the last few and these words must be put to parchment for fear of losing them in the oblivion of our passing.

The ashen skies, the fall of Bloodstone, the defense of the Great Oak, the falling of Pranzis, the snap of cold and dragons.  Needless to say, the land has suffered the death fury of the Great Enemy and his undoing in The Battle for Layonara.

The world is changing, the rich earth and clear streams will soon flow dark, the harsh winter from the frozen north will descend on Leilon and slowly change the face of the northern lands.

What was once green fields will now wither and fade into famine as livestock will now grow frail and light, becoming bones on a landscape of eternal winter dotted by the hungry few that scavange the land in search of warmth in a morsel to eat.

Despair, Fear and Uncertainty are the words that father and I will use to describe the next years.  Hope only rests on knowing the great enemy was defeated but the cost of our victory, once known, might too briskly fan the embers that sparkle and sputter in the dying fire.

Before I write for father to retell what I know, allow me a dire order.

Stock the basements with seed and grain, dig deeper the well that feeds the Inn, hunt and salt all meats and fish and, especially, hug your family and let us know you love us as we love you.  We're faced with winter savage and unrelenting where men will revert to beasts - Love will hold the gate until the sparkle of the first sunrise comes again.

I stood on the Lorindar Docks playing to the silence a violin borrowed.  Not even the great commotion at the docks where the feet of living legends walked disturbed the silence.  Lady Reventage and Lord Kobal were amoung them, there were many more but it was those two that I saw and honored the most.  Not even their fanfare and greatness could cut the silence as more of us flowed in by the boat full from Karthy - hope in our eyes, belts of potions and parchments at hand, armor and weapons polished, bows and leathers slick with new resin and Katrien's violin calling the dragoncalled.

I finished my song knowing that all was set, the beating of the ocean on the docks stopped, as if at the end of a great breath, Layonara held it and shuddered.  I blinked in what seemed like an eternity and turned to face my death for Katrien and I knew more than most of what we were up against.

The fifty or so that were brave enough to answer the call stood ready.  It was to be the finest hour for some of us, for the others, a simple tale to tell.

A bloody soldier entered from the north gate, Pranzis was under seige.

Havoc.

My group, slightly better organized and united, took the west gate and formed a line just inside the gates with troops from all of Dregar and Mistone.  Men from Leilon, Haven, Spellgard and some that I had even seen in Hlint were there, fear glistened in their eyes but their stance never betrayed their training.

A wail came forth as the dwarves that took up Master Kobal's call engaged the vanguard of the invading army as I played for the lines to keep them from despair.  The defenders were repelled as the a stream of wounded were brought in and taken to the citadel for care.  Enormous dwarven defenders whose arms were as thick as my waist came in stricken in fear as though death had only spared them to frighten those that were guarding the city.

Despair took over the lines and my song could no longer maintain morale until Katrien's violin began echoing in the mighty city.  Resolve and tenacity was restored as the soldiers along the walls stood fast and the army stood strong.

At the peak of Katrien's song, the gates were torn open and the first wave was upon us.

The line stood strong under Matilda's command, not to many casualties, and they were forced to withdraw, as our spirits started to fly, cries for help from the east gate rung out - they had been beaten back.  I rushed to aid the wounded only to hear that the merchant's district was also being breached and there I went to take my song to the defenders positioned there and the invasion from the square were repelled.

I tried to stand with the east gate defenders but their ranks were in disarry, their leader was an idiotic barbarian woman with no thought of honor except hers and her own clan - "This is Karana's gate" she would say... from 50 feet away, behind a barrier of wagons - I had met her before and was not impressed...  No matter how much I tried to gather them to retake the gate, hope there was at an end and I returned to the west gate in the hope that something could be done to repell them for good and assemble a strike team to retake the west gate.

As I reached the west gate a voice called for our surrender and they were sending us a gift in the form of the sharp twang of a catapult, the body of Varka, a dwarven rager fell in a heap near the gate.  He had issued forth to challange their general, Boerger to single battle.  Slain and dejected after being crushed by his foe, Varka told us of the massive army beyond the gate and ushered us forward in a desperate charge to break their legion.

At this moment, I noticed a few gathering around Katrien, scrying and seeing with arcane eyes the army beyond the gate and to my despair...  The army was a real one, thousands strong - dwarves and devils from Bloodstone's troops ready to descend upon us in a moment's notice.

My heart broke for I knew Pranzis was to fall.

I played harder and decided to give the eastern defenders hope and rushed to their lines as the seiging army's horns signaled the rush of another wave.

Market Garden fell.

East Gate fell.

West Gate was over run.

We fled to the Guild discrict and prepared, in tight formation for a long seige.

A single figure approached us, rapier in hand stabbing the bodies of our fallen comrades in arms.

We were to surrender or suffer General Boerger's.

We chose to suffer.

And we did.

A hopeless battle ensued as we were beaten back towards the castle, holding the invaders back only enough to protect the civilians, bodies of the called litered the streets now as the final defense was held outside the castle gates.

The doors were sealed and refugees were ushered into secret passages away from the city - lovely Princess Kayana and Shiravo were already in safety far from Pranzis as the last few of us closed the gates into the underground away from Pranzis.

The Seat of the Crown, The Mighty City of Pearl and Silver, The Beacon of Civilization, Pranzis fell to hordes of dwarves, demons and devils.

I rushed back to Hlint, the crossroads of the world, after escaping to Lorindar and sailing to Leilon - in search of news from the far east.  While I waited, I played a song for Dregar, inspired by Katrien's song for the few that cared to listen - my companion in arms seemed unscathed by the carnage we had just seen - I guess each must deal with it in their own way.

It was as I stood there that the Great Heave shook Layonara and ashes rose from the far east to cover the sky.  I stood shaken until the single figure of Barion approached from the portals to the north of Hlint with the news that Bloodstone was dead, he had been defeated and it was his destruction that resulted into the explosion of an entire mountain range in Xantril.

Time crawled to a stand still again as I spotted a memory of a glorious past out of the corner of my eye, it was Ranewin.  We stood and talked while I bathed in her light as we watched the gate near our temple as workers, farmers and adventurer came in from the region of the tower.  She took her leave and I remained at my post, a little lighter from setting my eyes on her and her fragrance.

A friend, Addison, came marching down the corridor defiantly, "the Great Oak is safe" she said as I hugged her out of joy for seeing her alive and well.  She went in search of Treana and I could finally go and sit a little, ignoring the darkness in the sky and great figures roaming it.

Ozymandias, Lady Reventage, Triba and Acacea and a wave of the world's heroes soon came in succession and more news was made known to me.

Layonara is destroyed and a general has taken the seat of the west's power.  The Great Enemy is dead and our heroes still live but will might and magic be enough to heal the world?

The eyes of those that I talked to showed little hope.

Winter is upon us Mother.  Hug your family and tell them you love them as I did to you when I handed you this letter for today we live, tomorrow we might not.

Share this with Father and my brothers and sisters.

I shall be around soon.

With love,
Freldo

[SuperMunch]

Haste, invisibility, a disguise, my old violin, a telescope and courage.

From a hill overlooking Pranzis I took guard to see what new atrocities were being commited and was slightly pleased to find none, all that was good and wholesome in Pranzis was long gone - only the Foul Horde stood.

I saw them removing cart loads of dead from the city and throwing them into massive trenches hastily dug in the once green fields, now trampled and brown, a few miles away from the main gates.  I watched in frozen silence as hundreds of carts full of bodies, small and frail to large and strong, were hauled out of the main gates and taken to the graves.  All day and night they worked, finishing filling one ditch while another was being dug.

In time, the wagons trickled and ended and I left my position and set about to do what I came for.

I came to remember these fallen souls and sing them into the heavens.

A foolish task some would say but that I felt I must do for who will remember them as time wears on?  As a number, they might be remembered but for me, they would be much more and perhaps theirs souls would be eased as my song cleared the air of the stench of the horde.

I approached with my violin held high and Katrien's song flowing.

One by one I looked at the faces of the dead, imprinting each to my soul.  Faces fair in life, fair in death, beautiful children, city guards stripped of their armor and rank but valor kept intact, defenders of different faiths lying next to each other to prove that this was against civilization, not against ideals or faiths.  Elves, dwarves, halflings, gnomes, half-orcs, half-giants and men, together bound by their resolve to life together - dead at the point of a destroyer's lance.

The Enemy's fallen were not thrown amoung these, they must have been kept elsewhere or burned for not a single touch of rotten was amoung them.

To each face I gave a name in my soul, to each child I told a story, to each group of soldiers I sang their praise, to each humble worker I sang their profession.

An endless evening and night wore on as I slowly came apart with every step.  Every time I wished to stop and turn away I remembed that no one would come for these, many entire families were togther in those wounds upon the earth - I was there for them, a pale figure clad in red, praising their lives despite not knowing any of them.  I was their bard, all those shells and souls were mine to know and love and I wore on, coming apart at every step.

As dawn was breaking a figure amoung them caught my eye.

It was the second day of the seige and during the battle, as I tended to the wounded and took Katrien's song to those that couldn't hear her from afar, I saw an elven woman, a fierce fire in her eyes, her bow singing loudly as her quick arm danced from quiver to string to quiver to string.  Blazed in red armor her bow cried tears as she never flinched nor moved - such was her intense profile that I knew at once she had more to lose with the fall of Pranzis than all those that were like shadows fighting beside her.  Arrows and arrows were taken to her, her stance never failed, her arms never stoping.

There she laid, pierced through her heart with a single foul bolt, cloven bow still in hand.  Peace on her face and an amulet to Ilsare around her neck.

I stopped my song and did her honors as one must and I'm sure that if we had won, such honors would be done upon her.

Gently and slowly, I pulled her to a patch of earth and removed the bolt to cover her wound and chanced upon a small leather pouch pierced by the bolt that struck her heart.  It was a letter to a person in Krandor.  I positioned her body, and noticed the same name on her bow arm, a love, her child?  I would ask about the name at the shrine in Krandor.  I took the pouch with the letter, amulet and remains of the bow and put them away carefully.

Next to her body, I played a song Calise had taught me, a song for the Archer of Love.  Fire and blood was drained from her expression and she had found peace.

I finished the song and continued my duty but not fifty paces onward I turned to look upon her again, the image of an elven Ilsarian archer fallen in a land that was not hers finally broke me and my song studdered.

The earth greeted my knees where I was and sadness and shame washed over me.

I had been spared this fate and here I stood - perhaps this was my calling eased the tide of lament but I stayed and wept.  I blinked behind tears and the day was at it's end again, my invisibility had worn out hours ago but I was left undisturbed in my sleep.

Things aren't going to be the same again.

[SuperMunch]

The statement of fact that a slowly heating pan is the best way to cook a frog is false.  It's best to bash the frog's head on the counter and throw him in the boiling water.  Gods know why one would cook a whole frog when only the legs are edible, but that is the truth.  To wait... for the water to slowly heat?  To heal one's self? To seize... to stun the frog and cook it?  To become one's self?  To seize.  Not even three months after the end of one life a new one begins and in the middle there was a chance to say something that was on my mind for a long time.  The end...  I see her every so often and...a few long paragraphs follow...  The end.  I can confidently say that I know what it was.  The other...  I told her my truth.  I told her what I felt before things went sour.  I found it strange that I could remember with so much clarity, perhaps it was the shock of being torn that exposed to me what I had hidden for so long, as a fig torn open revealing the sweet fruit within.  Words flowed through me as emotions long hidden in cages were finally set free - how I had wanted, wished and waited but as I grieved, she floated away, then she was taken.  I told her my truth.  I know that things will never return to the way they were, not ever again, but I had to let her know.  She will always be my friend for in our fall and in our rise, our lives are tied.  We are mirror images, inverted in many aspects but the same at the core.  The new life...  Again the fates are cruel to this humble not-so-humble man.  So long ago, in a young naive man's life, a star fell into his heart and it's shine was kept sacred and cherished - fear of losing it always close to the young man's heart.  Despite his guard and attention, the star was not meant to be his and it faded but left a vacuum that the young man rushed to fill.  On gaining substance to fill what was lost, an empty hole was the result, deep red stains across it as though seared by the fires of things unknown to him.  As the young man contemplated the wound, he saw no life nor any hope, despair and revenge were his only thoughts.  But there was life there, chance presented itself and he snatched it.  He spoke from his heart to let one know what he had once felt and the wound was made wholesome again.  Naivete was transformed to grace as despair and revenge turned into peace with as many words as a song of rebirth.  Now he was whole once again.  Words, once like violence, flowed off of him with the ease of a spring creek rolling down the hill.  He stood once again but alone.  Then the fates threw him another miracle, the same star fell again - once thought faded and lost, it came to him.  Unchained and free this time, it's light fierce, it landed in the place filled the hole wholesome and bright.  The fates twisted and torn at me to see if I had resolve. I did and when the wheel turned and I was given a new chance, I seized it and the laurels are mine.  The naive young man who needed acceptance is dead.  ... A few words, as though notes, are written after this entry ...  Ranewin, Lark, Lar, Ozymandias, home, Caelas, key, Key, pie, Lady Reventage, tea!  

/* Fortune protects children, fools and Freldo. */

[SuperMunch]

/* [SIZE=+2]OOC[/SIZE] [SIZE=+1]Fourth of July Extravaganza![/SIZE] - not -  As stated before, OOC abuse of Freldo is out of control so this won't be a tell all post as others have been, just a few pointers for myself in the future.  Freldo just turned 25 (or is close to 26, depending on how much of a precision freak you are) and his life has taken another twist.  I was going to rest Freldo, bury him and take a breather for a few months (coming online only for the Leilon Arms) to let the stories about him spread and bloom, thus starting a defacto CN shift - not my original intention, but he was being forced on the path by others - while I developed Caelas.  However, once again, my plans were shot out of the water by Ranewin's return, Lark's entry into his list of people he knows, Ozy's handing the sceptre to Katrien amoung other things.  Now it seems Caelas will be the one buried while I refocus Freldo in his "new" world.  He has become battle hardened in his relation with others and he's starting to live by his principals all derived from the events that happened in his ingame life.  His role in groups will probably change now that his charge is gone and seemingly forgotten by others.  As for my accusations of OOC abuse, let me rant a little.  Some characters have really aggresive, unjustified and strange behavior towards Freldo in game because of out of game knowledge and this has -really- upset me. */

[SuperMunch]

Dearest Ranewin,

I walked away after you handed me the key because my head is still hot from having to let you go... again.

The Lady, in her dreams, brings us together and takes us apart... again.

I will wait for you... again.

The words that I spoke to you are still true, they will always be.

I understand what happens to a heart of ice when the old flame flickers near it, it has happened to me before as I stood near the Wild Surge not that long ago and I'm sure it's allowed to happen to you.  However, you spoke a word to me that I cannot accept.  "Bye".  If anything with our strange and twisted lives, this will not be the end nor a farewell, you are still dear to me in a way that you must know for I would not take back a single word I spoke to you - I will not lessen any heartbeat I had, not a whisper reworded.

I still and always will love you.  Truely, deeply and purely.  If I am to lay my eyes on you one last time in the future, as I lay at my final days, weary of old age us humans seem to stumble upon so soon - I will love you as much as I do now.

Perhaps it's the way things are supposed to be.  I am to live and long eternally for the single one that I cannot have no matter how much I desire it.  A tragic fate, but one that I can live with - love for me has a single, elegant, simple name, and it's Ranewin, my anchor, my first love.

In a few days I'll have calmed my hot head and allowed things to return to normal in me for you are still my pristess and I do need your guidance and council on a great number of matters but for now, I wish you joy and warmth - the same that you brought and will still bring me at every encounter.

May Ilsare continue to bless you and illuminate you for I will always be there to sit in your light.

E ceela aey, forever.

Signed,
Freldo.

[SuperMunch]

There are three words I used to hate.

Hostel
Responsability
Duty

I hate hostel because it doesn't sound right, it's an appropriate word but I just don't feel comfortable using it.

Responsability I hate because of the pressure it brings.  Unlike Destiny or Fate, responsibility is a burden you assume for yourself, carry it on your shoulders and live with until it's relinquished or you die.  A child is a responsibility, a geas is a responsability, care for another is a responsability.

Duty is a kind of responsability but a moral one.  Chaos and selfishness are put aside by duty to your god, to your nation, to your faith and to a cause.  Duties are burdens that restrict free action.  Paladins are bound to duty as are marriages and oaths.

I still hate one of those words but two of them I have accepted as part of me.

Responsability:

After a long talk with Lady Reventage I have come to the conclusion that little of what I think and do are a violation of the Ilsare's calling, in fact, I seem to be a very good disciple, from what I gathered.

It was incredible sitting before the high priestess in her own house drinking tea while I sought her council on a few matters and inquired on others.  I knew a few things about her from what I had gathered from stories in which she was involved and the occasional word or two from Acacea, especially the story of her being Ilsare's Harper, which led to a wonderful tale that I must follow up on as soon as possible.

Lady Reventagage told me of what she saw in Cole and I found that, in a way, he was passionate for life despite knowing how short it would be.  Passion and devotion, a love for life and all it's aspects that she found to be worthy of her notice.  If I had any doubts about Cole's love for life, Lady Reventage brushed them off my canvas with two swift strokes.  I am now able to tell his story and will do so as soon as I manage down and start it.

In our tea, I learned a great deal of how the Lady sees things through Lady Reventage's voice.  I found them all to be true to me and I have accepted the responsability that I kept hiding from.

I am one of Ilsare's bards and it's my responsability to do her wishes.  Strangely, it even seems that I have been doing this all the time.

Responsability and devotion mix in this, they have always been mixed.

Might as well admit it and find a word to substitute "Responsability" on my list of words that I hate.

Duty:

To a vow and to a person.

Again I spoke the phrase that seems to be the core of Layonara's current problems, "when a bard is seen as a reasonable person, there is something wrong with the world".  I have been called reasonable by too many people to ignore the fundamental wrongness in the circles of life.

I spoke a vow to a person I greatly respect.  I did so willingly, much to my surprise, for I believe that if one can undo what has been done it might be him, a man of patience and contemplation - a friend to a part of my soul that left - but, when actions are required, he strikes true and furiously.  I vowed not because of his cause but because of him, on his name I will hold my vow - even if it drives me bonkers.  A duty I accept.

To a person it is now my duty to serve.  I have heard things that may be true about her but I have yet to see it's face and even if I did, I will not sway from my word.  It was through her that I new songs became and with her I can learn and expand beyond what I know.  I will follow her for in extending her reach I grow.

Hostel:

I still hate that word, it just doesn't seem familiar to say.

---

It has been a while since I write and as I can see by my tone in this entry, it is time to close this journal and start a new one.

I have gone from wide-eyed twenty year-old boy to a confident old man of twenty-seven.  From not know how to survive to choosing how I die, from unprepared to sharp, from trusting and not knowing what love is - to trusting and knowing love's sweet sharp bite.

I am no longer the boy I was when I started this journal.

This journal will end so that I can start a new one with none of my shadows and ghosts chasing me as I write.

Words new, friends old, new loves, old ways.

[SuperMunch]

On the docks of Port Hampshire an old man stands with an old, worn, turquoise coat the he had not worn since his youth.  A violin, old and worn but still sharp and alive are in his hands as he plays the song of his life to the winds.

He lived more than most men, he had seen more than most men and he had felt more than all men - he lived his life to the end, he spent himself in pursuits small and grand, he had kissed the lips of death so many times yet always returned safe.  But on this day, this cold summer afternoon, he will no longer be.

His tired eyes are closed as his heart beats it's melody onto the strings of the instrument.  A smile, radiant and bright despite time, etched across his weary face, gives company to the warmth that the song brings to those that can hear.  Ilsare's grace shined on the old man for he was forever in her service, from the first day he chose to sing and dance to this, his final day.

The song tells of his birth in the now lost city of Leilon, frozen under a sheet of ice as hard as glass.  His childhood under the warm sun that neither his children their children have ever seen.  Laughter and games as he grew, a stolen kiss - the first of thousands - a whispered truth and the flat out lies of when he was young.  Then the dragon called, the naive young man of twenty was called to do his part to take down the Demon General himself, Bloodstone - now but a name in books but known to be the bringer of the world's slow rotting.  He took the calling and lived it out, doing his part as best he could without focus, without a goal, until the final day of light came.

The song saddens as he stood at the gates of Pranzis, the once mighty Pranzis, as the foul hordes invaded and siezed the great city.  This was not the first time he had been given reason to sadness, but it was the day that his world had changed for in the carnage that he saw, focus and goal dawned on him as the world's sun set for the final time.  Boy became man as men lost their lives and died.

He sung to them after the smoke had cleared, to the dead - lost and forgotten.  He learned their faces and kept them with him everywhere he went, souls lost but not forgotten.

He had lost a piece of his soul a few months before the Diming, a man who's soul was as hot as his but far braver.  The loss of Cole Norseman and with it a shard of himself, shook him so hard that it wasn't until two years had passed that he could face the whole it left and cherish what was once there.  The Soul Mother would not spare the young man's heart for before he could even have started to tell Cole's tale, he lost another - a love that he never proclaimed but knew to be - Addison Scarlace.  Fierce and foolish, a trusted friend and mother to Cole's only known son she passed on from life to death as her coil was unwoven in the deep recesses of the world.

He was numbed.  Cole, Pranzis, Addison.  Dead.

Over time many of those he cherished passed on, the world was saved but troubles never ended in his world.  One by one they passed from beyond recovery - one by one he cried their parting - one by one he said goodbye.  The first was the hardest because of his youth but there were many that he would have gladly gone in their place but he remained intact and whole.

Solitude tore at him as he looked for solace in love but was greated with open arms that led to closed doors.  He accepted what he was destined for - radience yet solitude at the core - and lived his life from bed to bed, arms to arms, woman to woman.

The violin's song grows wild as he lept from one love to another, deeply loving them and being torn apart at each separation until he does not jump anymore for love had taken hold and didn't release it's grip.

He found the one that was born to be his - a love born from partnership for they had roamed together.  He called her Love for that was all she needed for a name.

Bathed in love, they grew to become the very stuff from which legends are made - their names were known to all despite knowing few.  A team, a pair, companions, one person in two.

As all stories stories should, blessed children came to their lives and the cries of babys were always heard in their house for a great many years until enough was enough and Love cried that six was more than enough.  Each child blessed with either the father's art or the mother's - all were loved as the only one and together the little clan brought joy and happiness to all they touched.

The song plays for what seems ages the life of each child with their parents - each one as tender and loving as the other but all different, none alike.  He radiates light as he does so, his pride as a father grows deep and true to his core.

The man, now older and wiser, smiled as he held his love in his arms on the day they parted.  They had grown old together and their love never lessened - their tree had born only good fruits and an orchard had blossomed from their single winding soul.

She breathed her lasts breaths as she saw him smiling, telling her he'd be there soon - his only lie to her in their entire shared and golden life.  Unknown to him, he would linger on for that was his last true smile and he know that when he next smiled his true smile he would leave the world for the last time.

The years passed, his soul never cold but never hot again as he watched his children grow into grandparents.

The world was not what he had known it to be anymore, times were not his anymore.  The changes the cold brought to men were savage and his family and that of his brothers and sisters were striving to keep hope's candle burning and the light alive.  He had taught his children and nephews, his grandchildren, his great-grandchildren of the times before the white and grey skies - he taught them hope and made them feel the sun's warm rays despite the great yellow ball not having shown itself for the longest time.

His life had purpose yet he was alone, far from the prime of his life.

On a trip to the great library of lore, that he had once helped stock, he came upon an old book - written in his very own handwriting, "Freldo Jabutica's Journal and Letters, Vol. 1" it had on it's cover.  It was the story of his life, or a part of it at least.

Sneaking the book and it's other volumes away, as it certainly wouldn't have been missed, he returned to his home and read it and joy spread as he read his own silly tales and stories, his own letters to his parents and to his loves.

He felt his age melt away and he reached for a locked box that he always carried with him and unlocked it with a quick whistle, he still had his way with the weave and that box was his prized collection for in it, there were his most precious objects.

A use bottle of ale, pressed flowers - some common, some rare but only he would know their worth, a cake and a piece of pie magically frozen to preserve themselves and many other objects of little worth to other but of immense wealth to him - he was no fool and he had left in that box a sheet with the list of the items and their worth to him, in case he ever forgot.  In that box was a suit and coat in turqoise along with a long costume in red - coat and his disguise from his youth and an old worn out hickory violin and bow, his first instruments.

Putting the suit and coat on - they still fit despite the time - he left his room looking back only once to make sure he had left the box open and the paper visible for his familiars.  He left the manor under a mantle of invisiblity he could still pull from the Weave.

To the docks he went.

Dispelling the mantle, he begun his song.

As the song reaches it's end, the old man vanishes.

His song became the blowing of the wind and his laughter spread through the land one last time as Ilsare took him to be forever with his love.

---

This is the end of Volume One.