Rhynnala's Memoirs Volume II

[LynnJuniper]

The Memoirs of Rhynnala Asantiani
Book 2


Prologue: Visits Home



    Home? How can one define the concept of home? Is the home a place where one is born, or is that simply the place to which you call 'home’ town or some other such finery? What is home?


    This question was the one pondered as the woman, now twenty-nine years of age stepped off the small boat, adorned with nets for fishing, and onto the sandy beach of the world beyond.  Once again she found herself back in the small villiage aptly named Villiasport: the Villiage on the Port. Perhaps not the most original of names, but what are names but means to which one identifies?
    She took her boots off before departing, opting for the feel of the sand between her toes. Just like the old days She thought. She could swear as she walked the small make shift path from beach to dirt road, slipping her shoes back on in between, that she could recognize most of the faces still. Here were faces she had not seen for years, faces that once belonged to small boys and small girls and view viewed from the eyes of a small child all those years ago. Now they were rugged with work, and adorned with wrinkles, hair of those no older nor younger than her tainted gray. Tans and burns decorated the skin of her peers. Years of Labor had left some toned and others far too weak, Some were skinny and in the animals that walked the streets you could see the bones through their skin. Here she walked, well fed (As well fed as she ever chose to be), well clothed, well protected. So this is the result of the Darkness. This is what Blood had done to my home.


    Up now, along the road to a slightly larger cottage set up for two rather large families; one of human nature the other of dwarven blood, built up upon the ashes of the first. Life long home. The girl’s eyes drifted to the side of the house, two mounds with make shift grave markers. Here lies Lavinia and Maroclas Asantiani may their souls find the halls of Vorax Above. She knew the engraving by heart.
    She carried with her one bag of unusual origins, and pulled out of it, quite impossibly a metal staff with a flat edge. With this she wandered to the front door of her house.
    A brawny dwarf answered the door, and looked up. “Oi! It be 'dat magiker sister 'o yers!” He called into the house. He looked up, the long distance again to the girl’s face and grinned satisfactorily.
    The girl at the door was pleased. She smirked and pulled next from her bag a corked brown tinted bottle of whiskey. “Hello to you too Uncle Dun’Dun.” And shoved the bottle into the dwarf’s outstretched hands. She side stepped the dwarf into the house and yelled down the hall. “Oi! Don’t you scrawny axe twirlers know how to greet your kin!?”

    Too many hours, too many dances, too many empty bottles of ale later, the girl exited the back door of her home, quite sober. She sat, cross legged staring at her parents’ grave. She allowed her mind to wander. Three now, three that he has taken from me.
    She rose, almost from impulse, and began to scavenge the area for a few sticks. What she found was even better. Two small planks left over for some wood work on a house or boat of some such.  Using a rope from her bag to tie them together, she pressed the bottom half into the mound close to her parents’ gravesite. Going through her seemingly bottomless pack, she next removed a dagger that glowed red, with a story all its own, and began to carve onto the wood.

                    Amari A. L. L.

    Satisfied with the makeshift monument, she lifted herself off the ground, brushing the dirt and leaves from her clothes. She looked about for a moment before her eyes settled on another small dirt path, almost completely overgrown with bushes and weeds. Cutting the over brush away with her dagger, she found her footing each time and continued down the road.
    It took three quarters of an hour but eventually the illusionist made her way back to familiar ground; or what was left over it. The Ashen ruins of the tower were now covered in vines and bushes just like the road before.
    Many hours were spent there; staring, circling, sitting and reminiscing of times when this, unlike the boarding house for the Voraxite missionaries, was her home. She would come back her periodically, if only in mind if not in body. She had to. This was her home as much as the villiage was, as much as Hlint at been, as much as Dalanthar and the manor there was now.
   
And Saebhel would always be a part of her life...

    Bending down, she reached in her bag again for a small vial, and gathered up some of the ashes trapped beneath a large pillar.  She tied a rope in a criss cross method around the vial and attached the rope to a chain, donning the vial of ashes around her neck. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust....

And with that thought, and a power-word read from a tome she was back in familiar halls, the rustling of thousands of books filling her ears as they flapped; some freely, some in their chains and cages. And there she settled. Where she felt most comfortable, where she felt wanted.

The  true meaning of home...

[LynnJuniper]

'This has, with certainty, gotten me at a loss. With so much information no wonder the group is running around with out a lead to follow. Jennara has given me much information in my absence from the last meeting. For that I am grateful, and will try to make heads from tails of this for the rest of the group. It is a pity that I have promised Jennara that I would not seek to make this book my own or even read it. It is a promise I regret. Should I hold my promise or should I help until I can get my hands on this book? I have no intentions of keeping or using this book for my own power.

 Curiosity. Though, Curiosity may in this case kill me. I am aware that a few of the Rofireinites: Perhaps most forefrontly, Serissa and Barion do not trust me. So be it. They are an incompetent pair not worth my time and hardly worth the ink I use to scribe these sentences. Wanting to read a book is not a crime nor a defilement of the law and goodness they strive to protect. Luring a Dragon on a defenseless town/ship, however, is. While I may be guilty of the former, they are responsible for the later in whole.’

'When I look at all the information I have gathered my mind keeps returning me to what Rhizome has said to me a few years ago. “Many things that occur are like a web of information. The trick is not to dive into the web like a confused mayfly, but instead to find where the strands begin and end, like the spider, and follow them to your goal.” This is the method I would like to try. But with this comes disassembling the web so I can follow a single strand of information, a single strand of silken knowledge.’

After assessing the situation I believe that by far the most important question here is why the dwarves are refusing to talk of this “Kenson” , and why they have made the promise they did. Under what circumstances? Who is Kenson and are the dwarves, or Gilshem under a spell? I believe that the proper course of action would be for me to follow this lead. Perhaps another trip home is in order. Perhaps the Voraxite church would know something they’re not letting on to. Perhaps my siblings would share some insight that is not available to others. They are only humans but they are still more connected, both to me , and to the dwarves. I shall give this opportunity a fair chance.’

'If , however this is a geas, where does it fit in? I have, in all of my years of wizardry never come across the information of how to put on or remove a geas from a person. It seemed like an act of enchantment but is it? If it is, how far can I study it before my eyes and throat starts to burn with the knowledge of this forbidden school of magic?  Accursed enchantment, why must it torture the minds of so many?’

Curse The Lucindites as well. Storold may know something he is not letting on to. In addition, I must talk to Pyyran, there are a few loose ends there I would need to tie up. Who was the guide that ran off with the book? If the dirty old man was Kenson, then who was the guide?’

'There are too many questions. Was Kenson a vampire? Is Kenson the Shadowed Claw? Then what does he have to due with the book at all? Why are the Rofirinites after the book? Why did they have it at all? What is this “secret place”? and who was this heavenly servent? If Kenson did put a geas on Gilshem, could he have also been the powerful mage that stole the book? When was the book in the possession of the Rofireinites and how did that happen if Kenson had the book two years ago? It doesn’t seem to add up.’

 'There are too many questions. My thoughts are becoming as the mayfly again. I will simply , for now focus on what is ailing the dwarves and forget all the other questions. There is little purpose of attempting to answer something I don’t have the proper question to. Once, a long time ago Ozy told me that if I wanted answers I need to ask the questions I want the answers to. That is something I think of now. What are the questions I want answered? And Who can answer them?”

[LynnJuniper]

'They met in Lor. I can only assume they were there for the same reason as I. Every year in Lor, the celebration of the year’s shortest day, and the anticipation of longer days to come, is always, by far the best. I had gone to participate in some of the festivities. A letter had arrived to my house a few days prior. Apparently my expertise as an illusionist is known, I was asked, by name to put on a show of magic. At first I was skeptical. Is this what I have spent countless hours of my life preparing for? Surely not. Upon greater consideration (and a bit of prompting) I decided that instead, it was an honor to be seen as worthy for this performance. More over If I could make a few smile in these days, it would be worth it. There was also a matter of compensation, which will due nicely to go towards Dalanthar’s taxes this year.”

     “I was simply enjoying the festivities, at the time listening to a recent composed work. I noticed the familiar faces; many of them. Apparently this celebration is widely known, perhaps even a few of my well known 'colleagues’ have come to see my work? One can always assume.”

     “It was, at first strangely comical to see a man appear behind Michealis the Toranite paladin, and attempt to steal from him. Steal, from a man that would give the shirt off his back to help another to survive.”

     “Kobal was on the case, as well as a flock of what we call today as “heroes” working to defend one of their own. Such foolishness, my original view as comical changed suddenly to sadness. Was this man so bad off that he felt the need to steal? It is not at all uncommon in this day and age, so I followed to the warf.”

     “It seemed, through some talking that the man was looking for a way to pay for his family’s tuition away from Lor. Upon questioning it also seemed as if a cult had been recently terrorizing the area, in addition to all of the food problems going on in recent times. As adventurers tend to do, it had been promised that a small band would investigate. Meanwhile Lin’da offered ten thousand give or take for the man and his family’s passage. That woman confuses me. It’s as if she puts on a new mask for each task to correctly assimilate into what she thinks is needed. Is there a real person behind there or is she simply a doppelganger to what the situation warrents? More and more I assume the later.”

     “So the grouping was put together. Katrien saught out because of her expertise with human relations. Ozymandias to chronicle the event and to offer his expertise in the rumors of dragons and magic. Michealis and Kobal for their power. Kinai for her skills in the ways of a scout. Lin’da for her sheer destructive force. Me , because Kobal approved of my protective nature. To Ward the group from harm. Me: A warder. Me. Respected.”

     “The Dragons, have indeed returned. We saw them Near Prantz and in the mountains. Fighting, Battling , two of them , fighting one another. A few tried to get into the fray. Foolish...I have no right to speak of foolish”

     “When we met up with the cult in their camp, I had foolishly tried to search the mind of one afflicted to see who had been controlling them, as it was obvious they were under some sort of enchantment. The power was overwhelming, knocking me to my feet and almost killing me. I got fairly scolded for that afterwards.”

     “There were statues, and ruins, and each of the victims had magical runes behind their ears. They were all controlled, and as one of them said, all part of something bigger. Connor, in his scrying (How did he protect himself where I could not? Perhaps some powerful unique item bestowed to him for one thing or another. I don’t know what the Lucindites have at their disposal, but of course, nothing a  'simple’ unaffiliated mage such as I would ever come across...I digress. Conor found an entire web , a scrying network. All connected to someone of the past, a force over looked, an insanely powerful beast locked deep away under the earth.

     Who is this new threat?

[LynnJuniper]

'The search for the book has brought us, for one reason or another to the city of Hurm. Things are a bustle now as Saviar prepares for the meeting of the Red Bear, and those known as 'The Sabre’ As such Saviar would have no problems before the meeting. His town must be spotless. We besmirched that I think, but so long as I do not get my personal name tarnished, all is well I believe.’

'We did not start this previous venture in Hurm. We began in Northpoint, then made our way to Krandor. One of our numbers believed they had found a lead there, when in truth they were just as lost for direction as before. I can not claim to be any more aware of the situation than the others, but one would think or venture to believe that if the book meant so much to them, the Rofireinites, they would make a proper effort.’

'The search lead us to the house of an alleged expert on the author of the book we were looking for; someone who worked very closely with The Great Library. I must work on my ability to recall names. I seem to be getting worse and worse at it.’

'The man in question had not been home for weeks. Just as half of our group was about to slip through the door Jennara returned with the guard to give us more 'official’ permission to search the house. That we did, and I do believe that I will remember the address to conduct my own search later. This man seems to have been an expert in the times of Bloodstone’s first war. I am most certainly interested with some of the manuscripts, and know  Ozy would love to add some to his collection. I must get back into touch with Kinai eventually to pick a time to copy all of the documents for my own use, even if it takes weeks.’

'But now is not the time for that. It seems the man had a contact back in Hurm who turned out to be the same man who guided Pyyran to the book a few years ago. This is where things got increasingly more idiotic. The Rofirinites as they were, were intent on pursuing the man through lawful uses, something not entirely practical for the situation. Pyyran as usual was bolstering and tampering with the situation despite good intentions. He just doesn’t know how to get things done more often than not. '

'Eventually, in Saviar’s town , at the time of the Red Bear’s meeting it came down to a brawl in which one dwarf, a cleric or paladin or something of Vorax was slain as ransom. Varka, being who he was initiated the brawl and ignited it ten fold.’

'I was only interested in increasing my prestige with Saviar. I reported them to the guard, being sure to give my name. Hopefully Saviar will remember the help and come to more use for me later. I will not lie about my intentions. I need him, and I intend to use his connections. However, I do not think he will disagree with the ends I plan to obtain in doing so.’

'Back with the brawl: Things were just getting idiotic. The man in question was apprehended by the time I got back with the guards. Apparently something had gone wrong though. The man, afterwards spoke of a woman that slipped him a stone. I have my own ideas about that but eventually he turned invisible and slipped from his bonds. Storold and I cast immediately, and slipped out unwatched by the guards. Now we are in a predicament indeed. In exchange for his freedom he promised to lead us where the book was last seen. Fine. But afterwards I’m turning him back over to Saviar again. Get what I want. Increase prestige doubly. Everyone is happy. Well, really I’m happy but what more matters?’

'I cannot be concerned with finishing this now, I will do so at a later date.’

[LynnJuniper]

'It seems a new occurrence has gotten my attention. A Rofirinite of no low status summoned a group of us to his estate In order to look into a certain ordeal. He chose some of the best, and some of the worst. I cannot say I was too pleased to see idiots like Lin’da, chosen only for raw and untamed power, asked to do anything that required the usage of a working brain. Alas...’

'The matter was horrid. A gnome had been most ruthlessly murdered, no torn apart in the Katherian area, and we were asked to look into it. The scouts found bits and pieces of him everywhere, but Ozymandias and I were more interested in living breathing information. With that we asked around the town and eventually discovered that a Branderbackian gnome had gone missing in the sewers a week past. With that as our only lead we were prepared to set back off into the sewers when we were asked to look into another event involving a theft at the residence of a Mr. Omerthrough. '

'Apparently a day of adventuring through sewers was preferable, or perhaps it was just us, because when we split the groups only Ozymandias, Clarissa the Paladin of Toran, and I were to go investigate the second case. Honestly, I pity Clarissa. So much brains in a position that requires so little. So many rules for such a well working brain....I digress’

'Upon investigating the matter it was discovered a sword, a relic that would only work for one of the proper blood line or will was stolen.  Someone came in , got past the locks, guard dog and sonic trap, took the sword and got into a truffle with the guard. This was the work of an apparent professional and when questioned Omerthurough mentioned that the only one with interest in the sword was a very proficient Assassin called the Disembowler. '

'It was only a short time later in Leringard that we discovered that it was Jeran Valhaikor that had done the stealing. Why? We’ll never know, he was killed as a guard was seen leaving Leringard to Vhel. The same one? I don’t know. Perhaps. But as Ozy said, we’d never find him.

The only thing I can do I have already done. I turned the report into the Rofirein temple. Perhaps they will have an update based on the current information obtained.’

[LynnJuniper]

The arrival of The Red Bear and the Sabre in Saviar’s town has begun. I entered the town and noticed at once the crowd. It was as if some large harvesting festival come early, there were vendors lining the streets and people were everywhere’

'Our brigade was asked to report to the tents and align ourselves as mercenaries. I gave the name of 'Rin’ on the form for the time being. They can have my real name when I begin to increase their trust in me. When asked what I could do I told them “I can make people believe what I want them to. One way or another”. What Varka said Surprised me, and brought a smile to my lips. “She can break your mind with the utterance of a word or the waving of a hand” except, more dwarvish.’

'We were given a simple task. Clear the roads from Hurm to practically my house on the bay outside Dalanthar. We were given the offer of one hundred gold per head of bandit. Kobal asked however that we did not take this offer. The bandits would be people starved from plague and dark times. They did not deserve death. It was then I began to phantom a plan, an illusion of fear but not of phantasm, meant to scare but not to kill.

A few died before I came up with it, a black Slaad used to scare away half of the ruffians. It made one dwarf, a Voraxite I know as Harg, upset with me. But Kobal saw the nobility in what I was doing. Kobal’s respect is something I cherish and wish to uphold. I will not tarnish it by acting foolishly.

Sadly I could not stay for the second task, I had other promises to uphold. I hope I did not miss a chance meeting with Saviar. I must prepare, for the time will come when I must do what I must do for the cause.’

[LynnJuniper]

Yardislan has left for the realms in search of his brother. I shall miss him. He said that we may meet again, with that Ozymandias and I travel outside of this realm quite often. I hope that is the case, however if not I do have the letter, a focus for me to perhaps communicate with him. It is always worth a try if I can get Ozy to show me how. He has done innumerable things for me, and it is to him I accredit the fact that I am a powerful Illusionist rather than a Necromancer. To him I accredit that I am alive and well, and not foolish or dead. This is a copy of the letter he sent.

Rhynn,

I soon leave the face of Layonara for the planes. You may feel some surprise at this, as I have not spoken of my intention previously. I go to seek out Shileth. For reasons I would prefer to keep to myself, I feel that now is the time, after just slightly over two decades. I realize that I would have your aid if only I ask, but I wish to make this journey alone. It is a very personal matter to me, I imagine you understand.
I know that you have spent time with Ozymandias travelling the planes before as well, however, so it may well be that we happen to encounter each other somewhere along the way. Should that not be the case, then I wish for you to be aware that I am proud of you, Rhynn. You have taken your strides headlong into each obstacle that has presented itself, with some guidance. I felt that you were slipping for a time, misled by certain individuals, but you found yourself firmly back upon the right path. There are those who would not have had the will to resume their former course, who would have been glad to turn to the dark arts of simple power, but you chose instead to improve your knowledge of the subtle art more than tenfold.
I believe that your sense of responsibility in regards to your practice in the Arcane will expand as you grow older, though I hope that your intuition does not fade as a trade. I wish the best for you, Rhynn, as few young humans leave a lasting impression with me as you have. I am sure that you and Shileth will get along just fine, once I locate him and he and I return.

Until then, I remain,

Yardislan Echron
   

[LynnJuniper]

'I write this in my home in Dalanthar; bitten, burned , getting over poison and gods know what else...I now grow weary for the situation at hand. It has become a round of the same instances again and again in a vicious circle'

'The druids, the Rofireinites, both and once again fight for a similar artifact; a similar goal. I have learned this in my travels high up into the Sattleback mountains past the Highpass fort. There, where we were forced to fight animals...no, shifters in animal form. I did not wish to kill them, and eventually took to standing back as others did so. I will not partake in an animal slaughter.

And I will no longer lend my aid to the Rofireinites if it means fighting the Druids. I will see if the Druids need my help and if not I will let this situation die here.'

[LynnJuniper]

'So far no reply from the Druids. If none comes , I will continue my route with the Rofireinites and keep the line of communication open. I will stop them when I can. Perhaps the druids I know , know something, perhaps I can look for clues amongst the rangers. Clues without asking. Perhaps the Folianites, the Katians, the Kith-ites....’

  'There are too many perhaps-es. And more over, why do I care? Why is it worth a ?”

  “A Book. A Book I want to read and open”

              “Do I care of either side? Or just for the cool tangibility of parchment and the knowledge of ages?”

[LynnJuniper]

Needless to say many things have once again kept me from the periodic writings I promised myself many times over that I would make (and many times over that I have procrastinated making).
              I will not go into any sort of detail here I am afraid, as there are simply far too many details to divulge. I will simply overview the last of my dealings. For my memory is not yet as horrid as it could be, nor do I doubt it will ever be so terrible as that I would not remember how to write, nor what has happened to me in ages past.

              A dragon has claimed the lands of Bastil for himself. White tooth is his name and he is now settled within an army of giants in a hold called West Gate. We were asked by a merchant by the name of Sulkalo (a man who I am sure does not have any sort of thought process, linear or otherwise.. in fact I am surprised his business is still running), to find proof of this dragon.
              After a run in with the locals and a scuffle over who was the true 'dragon representative’ we came out on top with a few good leads. Unfortunately we were unable to collect the promised bounty on this proof until some time later, when we could find Varka and convince him to hand it over. In the end it came out to a measly sum of one thousand four hundred and twenty eight gold a piece to be split between Clarissa, Storold,. Varka, Barion, Vin, Nathanial, Xandrian and myself. I am aware Lin’da was also there, but I am also convinced that with her solo escapades , time and time again that she was more of a hindrance than any sort of help, and therefore will not be seeing a single true of this  bounty, as if she needs it.

              Speaking of Lin’da, she and Ferrit have become an utter annoyance as of late (Though Ferrit confuses me in herself, as she seems to be under the impression that she is so much older than me that she can guide me on some correct path by scolding me as a mother would her child , or some such). However if the ears of many will listen to the voices of an noncontributing few against me, then it is as I have accounted many other times, their loss.

              Another confusion as of late is the general populance’s general willingness to trust Dark Elf Spider Kissers, and Destruction Giants. I do not understand why these two would be trusted by the masses, indeed I do not understand why they would even be trusted by their own people let alone anyone else. Am I really so foolish as to not see something every one else does? A group allowed the two into a pocket plane with them, in a war between Gith’yanki and the Illithid or some such, although it was I with the knowledge of the war between the Gith and the Illithid and why it has come to be in any case. Once again, their loss. And it is one I do not understand.

              Dark Beasts have been found wandering Layonara from some escape from the Abyss. I was able to track down their hiding place by disgusting myself as one of them, but as soon as the group decided (as I later heard) it would be a good idea to lock me into their hiding place with them, I decided that the knowledge I had obtained was not worth the effort, nor would they receive what I had learned. I had told them what was at the gate, but not what was beyond it, in fact I made it seem as if I had not gone beyond the gate and as far as I can tell they had believed me. Their Loss.

              An adventurer by the name of Jeran Valhaikor is dead. An assassin killed him. We learned that it was indeed he who had snuck into the house of the followers of Branderback and stolen the sword. It was good work, but apparently not good enough as he wound up dead in the end. Having no further leads however we allowed it to drop. One adventurer is no big loss in the scheme of things, and no further danger seems to be coming of this.

              In Firesteep we were attacked by the very earth itself, the earth may be just angry at all of the ore us adventurers have been removing from it, or it may be something along the lines of all of the ore Fisterion may be using to equip his forces, I know not at this time but a force is rallying to understand further what is happening.

              There has been an attack on Lyn that I plan to further investigate. It seems as if the giants would seek to destroy their contract. Well, its genocide for them I believe.

              Never drink at Xeenite Parties.

              A Pixie arrived and gave me a riddle and so I solved it, I await his next challenge.

              I have been made into one of the Stormcrest guides.

              I have begun my cooking again.

              And I am heavy with child and due to give birth in a few short months. I am happy that this time it seems to be going well and good.

[LynnJuniper]

Sarunielle is well on her way to three years old. She’s a beautiful child, but is it wrong to hope that she does not take after some particular traits of her father? I would not mind having a child like him, that is not what I am attempting to convey, it is simply that she is rather frail for her age. This in itself is fine, however I have a profound desire that our daughter not grow up sick. She has already had and gotten over her first real fever with no permanent harm, midwives were called in to help where I could not.

Other than that there is not much to report that I am willing to put into writing here. I have a few new goals for myself, but I fear by a large my adventuring days are coming to an end. What kind of influence would I be on my daughter if I continued to do so. I have been helping Alantha, and finishing the ‘last great project’ that I intend to do. And then I hold up my side of the bargain. With that bargain I hope to obtain more. I may be getting a bit ambitious , more so than I even was in youth. Imagine me, a General; because I do. I want to put my magics to good use. I can’t see myself as a teacher though, I don’t think I would have the patience to do so. But as an illusionist I am no lofty street performer, I am a force all my own, and my knowledge can be put to good use for the proper cause and proper price. That is what I hope to obtain after this next big project

I have not left my house for extended periods for quite some time. I feel something dark is on the horizon, something I don’t know as much about as I could but I can feel the preparations for it being made. Soon it will strike and I’ve been taking the time studying training and making the necessary precautions to be ready for it when it does. I spelled necessary right, I must be onto something!

 

Drakes attacked Vhel as of late. It has something to due with Kenson and Lin’da and Ferrits accursed adventure, I know it, Sallaron has let on that he knows something and has promised a meeting with me. I will take him up on his venture. I have been meaning to ask him more about his little Guild of Exploerers.

 

Speaking of guilds: I suppose I still have one that I am a part of. I must speak with Dur’Thak about times past. He has some things I can utilize I just have to figure out how and when to do so. And if this guild resists my final attempt at reformation, then  I am through. Thrice have I tried to put this thing into my power and thrice has the apathy and inactivity of it all gotten in my way. This is my last attempt before I consider it a lost cause.

 
In going through old notes I have discovered something that I may want to make use of. Perhaps I should not have been so hasty to Storold before. If he requires my help he shall have it, for his own devices and his own reasons. Even if helping him avertedly helps another I can not stand to help; it is an even bigger crime to let needed knowledge go to waste.
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[LynnJuniper]

Sarunielle is four now, and sadly my worst fears for her have come into being. She is as sick as ever, the poor child, hardly able to enjoy her own life. She will go out for a small time and play with the children, dirty in places as  children tend to be, only to come home contracting all of their small petty sicknesses and turning it into something much greater. This is a constant occurrence. I’ve tried fruit, and garlic, and midwives, but it seems as its something with the way she was born, or conceived, or with who conceived her.

It will not do much to hinder her in her studies or day to day life if proper precautions are taken before she is made to go outside. It is said that she will grow stronger as she grows older but that this will always be a problem for her. She will not be able to run long distances, or jump, or do any sort of sport for extended periods of time. What’s worse, is she seems to understand her lot, and rather than crying unfair, is very mature about it, as if she knows her own limits. She is her father’s child truly, spending endless hours in the libraries permitted with her along with the Squishy and the Lim Lim as company through its spiraling halls.

    The young girl has quite the imagination on her as well, always asking to 'play’ with the illusions I can create for her. It warms my heart to see how happy she becomes when I make her favorite stories come to life before her eyes, or turn her into the protagonist for them, allowing her to enter worlds where she is not the sickly young girl, but a dangerous swords woman, or a powerful mage; the stories she is beginning to know, that her and her father live out on almost a day to day basis. I don’t know yet how we will cope with the fact that she is getting older, and with age comes understanding. We can not leave her with Ozy’s sister Elli every time we leave the house for prolonged periods of time; and we can not allow her with us or alone. We have already started making the sacrifices to our time needed for a child. I’m afraid our days as heroes has been turned part time, as our days as parents extend. I am not complaining.


    Sometimes though, we don’t have to extend our sights for adventure, because adventure extends its sights to us. What I have feared most, more than a sickly Saru has also come to be. Randharavanna has returned to set torment and angst upon Ozymandias’ soul. What’s worse, is that he is beginning to drag those most loved by the bard into the frey, starting, I suppose, with me. For the longest time Ozy and I glowed; most literally, him half black and half white, and myself a shining golden color. I don’t know what the reason was. Perhaps to represent his inner light? He says that the devil guardian Keaira’tynen has been hurt some how. If it didn’t hurt Ozy so I would not care at all. I owe that woman nothing, but if it is fate that helping Ozy means helping her than so be it, I will lend my aid to that cause.

    It seems perhaps though that all the outer realms are being targeted. For transferal between them is becoming strained. Ozymandias could not call upon Keaira and nor could I call upon Elezandor, whom I have rode as a Knight of Anger under in days long past. Angela could call her slaadi companion Slorg, but I fear the worst for him as a terrible scream arked his body as he tried to return to the realm of angels to its mistress Tik.

    I do not pretend to understand what is going on, and in truth I do not believe Ozymandias has much more of an idea than I do in this case. We went to visit some doggish profit in Folian’s Vale, only to be left more confused than when we started; atleast I was. He gave me much to think about. He asked me if there were eighty Ozys if I would love them all. I said I would. He said that just because there were many of one person did not mean all of them would be the same. That doesn’t make much sense to me, but I suppose it should. Ozymandias and Randharavanna are supposed to in many ways be the same person; one I love the other I hate for hurting that to which I love. Is there more to this than Just Ozymandias and Randharavanna? I don’t know. I don’t know what this conversation was meant for. But the man said I should think upon this. I don’t understand the difference. Maybe I’m not meant to yet.



    We are not the only ones going through times of hardship and adventure. I found no one short of Sallaron at my door, asking my aid in things that he did not understand. He asked me. He thought, of all people, that I would know the answers. It was flattery, but it was right as well, because in many cases I did know.
    What he was largely asking of were the Lumbral. Apparently that accursed Rofireinite cause I left behind had something to due with the Lumbral and therefore Shifter’s tower. I know that Bloodstone has an apprentice. I also know one more thing. That Jennara and company knows I know something, and they don’t want me telling what I know. If I knew what it was I knew I would probably do it,  but for now, I help Sallaron, because he treated me better than they did. I think I can make a friend out of Sallaron...

    Its with great displeasure that I freely admit here that while having associates, those I know the strengths and weaknesses of, those that know my own...Those I can call upon for help and those I would most likely help if called...I do not have any friends. No one I fully trust to talk to. I had Ael, I had Yard and Karn and Pyyran.  At one point I had Annalee and Treanna. Now they are all gone. My friends. Gone.

    And what does that leave me with? It leaves me showing signs of weakness as I did that night in Sallaron’s house, hoping that Tegan wouldn’t be around to see me like that. It only lasted for a few minutes. I quickly gained composure and got out. I can’t let that happen again. Was it because in some odd way I trust Sallaron? Was it because I feel as if I can talk to him, or was it because I feel a certain respect for me that I don’t get from anyone else?

I don’t know, time may tell and it may not, until then I leave these Memoirs to their rotting, or whatever it is they do while Ozy’s books are not near.

[LynnJuniper]

    I've lied to myself, I did it again anyway. Once again, a talk with Sallaron Tempest and once again a breech of what I've been working so hard to keep a constant.
      In Hempstead he once again approached me, asking again , to confirm the fact that I would help. He made it known that in the upcoming days a messege would arrive for him telling him exactly what he must do. It does, however entail infiltration. Normally this would be the optimum job for me, however given the circumstances I doubt those in question would trust me even if I did attempt to try. That will have to be left up to him, and the others, whomever so he chooses. This is not my life at steak...yet.
    And then he asked why I was willing to help. He told me that if it was  out of spite for the others that it wouldn't be appropriate for my to lend my aid; that it wasn't something he would be willing to risk his life on. So I told him the truth, instead of telling him the second reason why I wanted to help, I divulged with him the first.
 
 I didn't want him to die.
 
 He didn't buy it.
 
 Which led to me wondering, and my wondering: Is it really so impossible for me, Rhynn, to do anything without seeing the benefit to myself. Am I not that kind of person, or have I put forth the mask of not being that kind of person so long that when I come out as that kind of person it is seen as a lie. I don't know.
 
 I thought he respected and trusted me. Obviously not. I know respect and trust and perception requires an uphill battle; one that in many occasions I see it futile to fight. Either you like me or you don't either fight me or stand with me. Its that simple.
 
 I'm a rather simple person.
 
 Perhaps I am so infatuated in the color, the masks, the illusions, the blacks and the whites, that I miss the greys in between. Perhaps Perhaps.
 
 Squishy tried to eat him. It was amusing to say the least.
 
 He apologised. Why did he feel the need to apologize? I wouldn't trust me either...
 
 The problem lies within me and not with him.
 
 How do I fix it?
 
 Can I fix it?
 
 Do I care to fix it?
 
 Maybe for some people

[LynnJuniper]

Dear Rhynny,
 
                 The day has finally happened.  We’ve been expecting it for quite some time, but we did not want to worry you.  Your family and your 'uncles’ are being sent back to the Temple for re-assignment. The eldest of us, however has already settled down and has been allowed to stay. We hope you will continue to visit her.
 
                 We will never forget Villiasport and hope you won’t either.  We know its held a lot of painful memories for you but we hope it’s held good ones as well.
                 As for where we are being relocated to, well that is the tough part. We are being split up. Some of us are  headed  to Lyn, some of us to Lorst and some of us to Bloody Gate. It seems odd, I know, but that is what Vorax has deemed correct.
 
                 Until the next battle calls
                 Andrew

PS: When are you brining that husband of yours and Saru home to visit? Do it before we all get seperated!

[LynnJuniper]

I am once again convinced of the multitude and force of the power I possess. Though it once again persuades me to wonder; did I do it for the cause itself, or to prove the fact that I’ve previously stated? Does that matter so long as the deed is done? Would I have done it if the circumstances were proven opposite , or at the very least, different?  

      A warrior of growing renowned named Shiff came to me, wielding a great glowing sword propped upon his shoulder, asking me for my help and thoughts in a matter that has been plaguing the city of Hempstead and it’s surrounding farmlands for the previous few months. Apparently there have been increasing attacks of a man , proficient in the form of many magicks, to my understanding luring adventures to fight him by kidnapping, torturing and killing the locals. For what reason this was done I am not yet, nor am I sure I will ever be clear of, however there is always one chance or another.

A plan, however was formulated to once and for all deal with this nusance. I was asked along for my proficiency in magic, and I did, indeed want to prove myself sufficient. I have been away from the world of adventuring for far too long. The name Rhynnala Asantiani must continue to be known; for good or for fear, though I’d rather it be known in a positive light. And so I joined and led the attack group that would attempt to actively find the cur, while Shiff’s group would stay behind to protect and defend.

I sent out letters to those who I believed would be most able to help me: Sallaron, Storold, Mylindra. In the end Storold decided to stay behind and use his powers of warding to protect the other group, and sadly we were led into the one place on Mistone I hate most; Spelgard.

We did manage to discover that he was an ex-magi of Spelgard , but as soon as we started hearing the light rumors leading us into a hidden city in the desert, Shiff’s letter arrived telling us he’s learned the same.

When we met up in front of the place I’ve never honestly seen before, Shiff explained to us that there would be some helmet an assassin would require us to retrieve for him in return for leading us into the compound. Trading evil for evil; lovely. I hate Dark Elves.

The place was creepy....Undead everywhere; it reminded me of the story of the abandoned city plagued with undead until five worthy adventurers purged it for good and destroyed the Lich Baron that lived there...
      And then the hellballs....

      But we managed to survive , atleast through that, until we encountered a Drake. And with Storold’s magical might, the first time and last I will properly credit the school of enchantment, the Drake was dominated and set against his master magi. I held him still as he tried in vain to cast against my gripping hand. In the end , he was destroyed by his own pet...to leave a sort of Demon in his wake.

Storold and I wouldn’t have that either. With naught more than a glance we knew what must be done. I cast a Disjunction of the highest quality to both peirce his natural magical defense and strip him of all conjured ones, and Storold stepped forward to banish him into the nether from which he came

All in a day’s work

[LynnJuniper]

We are many steps closer to understanding the troubles that lurk in the Arch Bard Ozymandias’ soul; and indeed as we have discovered In the soul of us all.

      With the next step of our adventure beginning in our home in Dalanthar, we stepped out to speak with the person that would help us next, however not before a small incident with light and shadow attacking Storold in our very own home!

      Dispatching that, Ozymandias decided that it would be wise for us to seek the council of Moraken , the Arch Magi and master of the mechanics of the Planes as they were.

      And on the way from Wayfare to Hlint, I got my first glimpse at the elementals in all actuality. The ones in question this time were children. And they looked like my five year old Sarunielle.

      With that latest worry deep in my mind, I suggested we turn back, however Ozymandias assured me that his double would do nothing to harm our child; no one wants an Ozymandias out of his usual control.

      Moraken had some very interesting if not brief information for us. What I got from it was all that Raldir was trying to say, only, arranged in proper linear common. There are frequencies now, some higher and some lower, each containing with it alternate realities of the same reality. Meaning, that in all case and effects, there is not one, but many Ozy’s, many Layonaras , many me’s...

      These worlds, these alternate strands of the same reality are never supposed to interact...but then here is where Randharavanna’s plan comes in. I will summarize it in his own words:

      MULTIDIMENSIONAL DESTRUCTION HOOO!

      That’s right; using Ozymandias’ mirror, which cracked a bit in the process we managed to summon Randharavanna for a little chat. He brought along with him a lighter, female counterpart, that was Ozy as well Lua, I think she said her name was.

      It just proved that there were many of each of us. Randharavanna, and Lua, each married to a respective Rhynn in their world, each with a respective Saru...I kind of want to see myself..

      So over a meal of milk and blackberry pie we all discussed, and Ozy was asked to join Randi and Lua’s quest for ultimate destruction. Well, Ozy never really liked working for someone he didn’t control the strings to anyway..so with that option aside we have to apparently stop them from destroying and mingling the very worlds in which we live...Maybe I will get to meet more Rhynns sooner than I thought.

      Ozy said that Book(s)(?) said that when there are less 'copies’ of the person, those remaining get stronger, but that the only way to get rid of the 'copies’ is to kill them or to assimilate. But which of us is the real thing..or are we all..or does it matter?

      We need to tie the planes back together , so we can stop playing the defensive and find a place to hold or last stand, and then we have to do what even Ozymandias did not think of before me. We have to talk to Vieffray, master , as I am told, of alternating realities. Perhaps when he altered time to erase his son’s existence, he caused a chain reaction that made what Randharavanna’s doing possible. Anyway, step one is getting back into the planes. I think Ozy has that covered. Step two is reconnecting them, and gaining the help of the guardians, and if I understand correctly the only item that can reconnect the planes is on the finger of Ozy’s ex-fiance. Taking that gift back is going to be fuunnnn. Im staying far away from that one.

      Step Three. We Fight. We Assimilate. We Grow Stronger. Or we Die.

INTERDIMENSIONAL DESTRUCTION HOOOO!

[LynnJuniper]

Why do I have to work so hard for something that seems to come easily to other people? Shouldn't friendship be simple? You go up to someone, talk to them for a while, learn what they like, let them learn some things about you, and then you're friends. Isn't that it?

So where am I messing up?

"Let them learn things about you"

I don't think I really do that, or I don't think I do that enough. Years of work in my field made me an expert of putting on masks to look like other people. In order to prefect my craft I learned a long time ago that eventually my raw power to change myself would peak somewhere. That happened a long time ago. The Trick , since then was not to increase my knowledge of the magical rituals of illusion, but rather the behavior patterns and movement of all of the forms I could ever want to take. Instead of studying the procedures of the spell further , I went on to study philosophy, psychology, anatomy, and read bestiaries to learn how to properly portray my illusions in any occasion.

Have I learned too well, and is that spilling into my day to day life?

Do I wear masks without even going through the notions of creating the spell first. Do I give myself a set personality to suit the situation , whilest covering what I really feel? Can I do that without knowing I'm doing it. Or have I done it so long, practiced my illusions so long that who I really am has become one mesh of different illusions to suit the occasion?

I don't know if I believe that, or if I do, then I certainly believe that somewhere, so deep that I can't even find it, is me. Sometimes, like that afternoon in Sallaron's house; all the masks crack at once, even if its only for a few minutes without me realising I'm putting them back...

I know the way into the deepest reaches of the Deep.

how do I find my way in the Deep that is me?