The Journals of Connor Garvill

[Dorganath]

*More fuzzy blank bits!*

[Dorganath]

I never thought I'd spend so much time in libraries as I do...wandering dusty stacks of bookshelves, hunched over musty old books, reading until my eyes hurt like some kind of....wizard.  Yet once again, necessity dictates my actions.
  However, upon reflection, it seems perhaps a good thing.  Too long have I spent taking things as they come, letting knowledge come to me rather than seeking it directly. And lately, an unlikely motivation has brought me to research a subject that perhaps I should never have negleglected: magic. 
  It never ceases to amaze me what can be found in the Great Library.  Seeking the name of a rare plant and a means of its preservation, I have come across some very old writings regarding the making of a crucible, one that can sustain this plant indefinitely. I carefully read about this crucible while Kat amused herself with some Xeenite literature.
  The process is complex, magic infusing every step, and each step is an opportunity for failure. While I could read the process, even understand its purpose, I recognized that the actual fabrication of this crucible would be far beyond any of my abilities.  I copied down the process as precisely as I could, even double-checking it before we left.  We took the plans then to the only place I could think of with the resources to construct it:  The Tower of High Arcana in Spellgard.
  I seem to have gained the support of Tári Sáralondë, the Broken Rune, one of the eight Grandmasters of the Tower, though I do not quite understand why she should show me so much deference.  She will petition the others on my behalf.  However, the final incantation is something that likely I must perform on my own, for it will need to be performed again once the plant is harvested.  And so, the tower has lent me an insane about of volumes regarding binding magics, energy balance and such. These concepts were not entirely foreign to me, though I've never before seen such ideas described in such detail.  It is, truly, quite fascinating.  I feel I'm getting a better understanding of the Weave's power as a result.
  The Broken Rune kept mentioning my Affirmation and needing to do something about it.  I just smiled and nodded.  I have since learned it is a rite of acceptance of sorts into the Church of Lucinda.  I should speak to Eldárwen about this.  Strange that she has never mentioned it to me before.

[Dorganath]

* the following entries appear on pages of their own, as if meant to be removed from the journal one day without disturbing the other information *
  Dear A *a space is left* and S *another space*
  I have held off writing of the two of you, knowing what dangers you face and not wanting to take the risk that any harm would come to you because of something I'd say, do or write.  You are well-cared for and many people guard your safety, and now you are safely away again, away from the reach of dangers. I'm writing now so that I do not forget, but something tells me I never will.  I hope I will recognize you when you return this time, though I know somehow that I will.
  I have to admit I was very apprehensive when your mother asked me to help you.  What did I know about children, afterall?  What would I be able to do for you that other, more capable people could not?  Still, I came and visited, and somehow endured, and dodged, the effects of your early-emerging talents that you could neither understand nor control. I tried to teach with out preaching...correct without scolding.  Did I do well? Only you can say for sure.  Even at your young ages, barely able to speak, your personalities were readily apparent, as were your gifts.  I've always found it somewhat amusing though, that the one who is least like your mother in talents is much more similar in disposition.  This should be interesting.
  I'll forever remember the wonder in your eyes, the pure joy in your laughter...and the mischievious grins right before something unexpectedly caught fire. It's fortunate that Ember is quick, but he also has a long memory.  I'm sure he'll forgive you...in time.
  The last time you went away, you came back so much bigger I could hardly believe it.  I thought it was me who had been away too long, that my other obligations had kept me away longer than I should have stayed away.  But it is the place of your father that changed you so quickly.  Perhaps it did not seem quick to you, however.
  Until your return, the image I will hold of you is that of our trip to the island. The place was so peaceful and isolated, and so far away from the troubles of the mainland.  You and your new, adopted siblings running and playing on the beaches and in the water...sharks and all.  Your mother and "Gammy Mewi," as you used to call her, slipped in and out of speaking elvish with great ease, and you follow along eagerly...far more easily than I, but I am getting better, I think.  The ability and resilience of youth amazes me each day, and I am surprised at the pride I feel in watching you grow.
  I eagerly await your return, and I cannot wait to see who you have become. You will no doubt be fully grown by that time.  If ever you read this, remember always that there will never be a need too great that you cannot call upon me. I consider you both, now and forever, my family.
  All my love, Uncle Connor

[Dorganath]

13 Seplar 1388
  *this entry is written hurriedly, as if excited or urgent*
  This is a happy day.  For the first time since the vile deception that returned Shadison to our skies, he has been dealt a blow.  Perhaps not a major one, but important all the same. Shadison was being fed power, column of energy rising from somewhere northeast of Arabel to the five vile stars that make up the serpent in the heavens.
  My suspicions of Shadison's temple were confirmed when we arrived at the Fort of Last Hope.  Our last visit there was less than successful, but this time our ranks were larger, and we were more organized. Down to the depths of the temple we went, the dangers we faced no less than our last, less-than-successful trip. 
  Seilan was there. I am still unsure whether that is a comfort or a concern.  She was studying a serpent statue and the rune it encircled. She spoke to us about the dangers below, of why she could not progress deeper and why she had to return to the spot we found her to rest and recover.  Some ill-advised actions on our part destroyed the statue and rune stone.  To say Seilan was annoyed is an understatement.
  We eventually reached the depths of that temple, and the familiar chamber where last time we encountered a champion of sorts guarding the box we sought...a box we thougth contained something else. *ink blot*
  Only this time, instead of a champion, there was a great demon of some kind. It stood upon an altar bathed in magic and blackness.  Nearby was another of those serpent statues, coiled around a rune stone.  The battle with the demon was fierce, but the strength of our group made it shorter than expected.
  I turned my attention to the altar.  A curious blend of magics were at work...the magic of Alteration, the magic of Divination and the magic of....Shadows....*ink blot* *a note in the right margin is written: too many coincidences...learn more*
  I tried to express what I sensed, but the others were too busy with the snake statue and Lia's impetuous and headstrong attempts to retrieve the rune stone before anyone had even discussed it. Kobal was about ready to rip her arms out. Everyone was advising caution.  Instead, she just jumped into the center of that statue and landed atop the rune. *written in the margin and underlined twice* Why?
  Her ambition and drive are admirable, but I'm wondering if they will become a greater liability to her than an asset.  Time will tell.  This time, however, it got her killed...and by Brisbane.  I suppose I should not be surprised, but powerful and swift magic slew Lia where she stood...at the center of the coils of the serpent statue.  If only Lia had waited...because we ended up taking the rune stone with us, but after some discussion, not just jumping in.
  It was Brisbane herself who brought Lia back to the living. I have not decided yet if her actions were warranted...if Lia deserved death for her actions, no matter how temporary. Could another means have been as effective?  The ultimate end was the same; were Bris' actions even necessary in hindsight?  These are questions I need to ponder more deeply. The Toranites were quick to judge Bris.  Maybe they're right, but why does it always seem like they look only at the surface and at the now, and never take the time to look deeper and into the future. 
  Ultimately, it was Reventage who removed the rune stone and carried it up. When she removed the stone, all in the chamber returned to normal.  The odd magic and darkness (shadow?) surrounding the altar was gone.  I had, and still have, strong reservations about carrying another unknown artifact from that temple.  I almost think Kobal's suggestion was the right one... just destroy it all and be done. Bring down the mountain and fill that accursed place once and for all.
  But no matter.  The deed is done. Along the way, we met Seilan again and delivered the rune to her.  It's in the hands of the Sisters now, and I suppose that is as safe of a place as any.

[Dorganath]

*An entire page of the journal is written quite differently from all the rest.  The writing is scattered haphazardly across most of the page.  Fragmented sentences written in a hand that seems fatigued seem to speak of a deed and a great task. The names of several people are arranged about the page in a way that seems at first random, but upon further inspection seems to imply some sort of proximity and purpose.  Written most prominently is the word "Violet", underlined twice and written larger than any other name. Incomplete chains of arcane runes are scribed in a circular manner.  In the general center of these runes sits a very rough sketch of a flower with eight tear-drop petals.  At several points on the page are ink blots and trailing scribbles, as if the writer paused or lost control of the quill, possibly indicating extreme fatigue.*
  *At the bottom of the page sits two paragraphs, apparently written at a later time. It appears as all other entries in this journal, deliberately written, hurried but legible.*
  I feel as if I have slept for days, and yet the fatigue I feel follows my every move, as a shadow on a summer day. The months of research and preparation have all come to fruition.  In retrospect, perhaps this was not a task I should have taken upon myself, but left to those more skilled in the Arcane.  Nevertheless, the deed is done and with a degree of success. How much success remains to be seen.  Lucinda willing, it will be enough. And all the preparation seems to have paid off in ways I could never have imagined.  My understanding of the Weave and Lucinda's gift have grown more in these past few months than any other time in my life.  I have learned to work the Weave in ways that had previously remained a mystery to me.  Perhaps there is something to the ways  of Wizards afterall.
  Forever shall I remain grateful to the rest of our group...Kobal especially, and the Dreamer, but also the others no less for their great strength, will, courage and sacrifice. I could never have succeeded without their aid, nor the Dreamer's strength, filling in the gaps of my own abilities. If ever the call of her need is heard by my ears, I will answer without hesitation.

[Dorganath]

How long has it been now? Weeks? Months? More? I wish I could recall.  Some days for me recently have been like crystal in their clarity.  Others seem to pass like a blur. It seems my recovery from the trip to the islands has not been as "quick" as I thought.  Each day, I tend my charges, in a habit that has become almost like breathing.  So much so that I often panic that I had forgotten a task, only to find it done as always.
  I've spent more time with my sword of late....its blade, singing with a magical coldness, seeming to relish the taste of warm ogre-flesh and even the lifeless husks of the undead.  I guess I need the distraction. 
  Magic has been renewed in me, it seems.  For my efforts, for my study, Lucinda has blessed me once more with new magic.  After returning, after resting, I discovered I was able to do things not previously known to me.  My studies of Tranmutation (and likely observing the magic often in my travels) have brought me to an understanding of giving one's skin a stone-like durability. My studies of Evocation have revealed to me how to produce fire like a hail of arrows, streaming unerringly toward my targets (and finally a use for all that Alchemist's fire I've made over the years). My studies of Illusion must have given me insight, as I can now see past the cloak of the Weave that hides people from sight.....(ink blot)
  Illusion...what is it really?  Is it just an image?  Is it more?  Veldrin could conjure images with his Gift of Shadow...mere wisps they were, without real substance, though vivid and often life-like.  Shadow...A few simple motions, and I can have a shadow stand before me...  It is illusion...I know this. There can be no denial.  And yet, this shadow can strike at enemies and injure them.  It is weak...there is not much in its strength or durability.  Yet should there be any?  Should it no more than a substanceless image?  It is all very curious, and it brings my thoughts around to my lost brother...and...her...again.
  An odd offer it was at the time, and yet I cannot hide my intrigue.  I wonder if she still lives...if the wounds from that Lithany didn't finally take their toll.  Part of me hopes they have not, if for no other reason except my need for answers.  Foolishness perhaps...and yet, things happen for a reason...right?
  Perhaps there is something to this perpetual weariness...or perhaps I'm just tired.  Yes, tired and ready for things to be done and over.  Tired of existing in the same chapter of life, one that has gone on for what seems an eternity.  I am ready to move onto the next chapter and put this one behind...and yet, there are pages left unread...pages yet to be written.
  I miss the twins. They've been gone so long now, and so abruptly.  I've stopped by as often as I can, but still they are away...and no one seems to know when they can return...or if they can return.  At least they're safe.

[Dorganath]

How deep are we now?  Can anyone truly tell? Kobal has an idea, but...I suppose it doesn't matter.
  Earthquakes...frequent ones.  Find out what's causing them...that was the task set before us.  Fun.
  From that pit that Shadison calls a temple, we fell through the floor due to a tremor.  We landed in the Underdark...from there, we journeyed deeper, and deeper. We fell again, and ended up in a large cavern. From there, we descended again.  It seems in this case, we cannot go back the way we came.
  Forward we went.  Past creatures known and unknown, through landscapes not seen by most in...who knows how long.
  And now, I sit here, staring at the corpses of Rev and Remiel, struck down by some altar of some kind without even so much as a flare of light...One moment they stood, next, they lay lifeless on the ground.
  Nearby, a couple monuments of some kind....they simply radiate divination, though the markings are unlike any I've ever seen.  *a detailed sketch of the monuments appears here*
  I am certain we are being watched, and I'm certain these monuments are instrumental in that, but I haven't a scrap of proof.
  I will write more when I have a chance.  For now, we must turn our attentions to the problem of Rev and Remiel...and of getting out of this hole.
  * a very rough sketch of a flaming altar surrounded by four pillars appears on the page, as if done from a very incomplete memory *

[Dorganath]

How long has it been now? Days? Weeks? All concept of time is gone here.  We rest when we need to, eat and drink when our bodies tell us, but day and night...vanished.  And so much has happened. I suppose I'll start where I left off.
  Plen has breathed life back into Remiel and Rev. I am relieved...because part of me had doubts that they could be revived....given the odd nature of their deaths...and this place.  They spoke of what they did...what they saw.  Rev was attempting to examine an altar, extending her thoughts through the Weave to learn its nature.  She told the tale of seeing a red eye, and a city of some kind.  Further examination of the altar was deemed unwise, and so we turned our attention to a great door that blocked our path.
  Large, incredibly strong, the door was trapped and locked from the outside...as though to keep something in...or to keep something from getting in.  Who can say really?  Triba's nimble fingers made short work of the traps and locks...pretty much everywhere we went.  Onward we went, each of us grabbed by the neck by some unseen force, and then we found ourselves kneeling in front of a raised platform with a glowing obelisk in its center.  It took me a while, but I finally figured the thing out as Triba disabled yet another trap for us.  As the group was walking off, I get a sense of its magic...teleportation. Simply fascinating.
  Though...no one else seemed to think so...not really.  And for some reason, that annoyed me.  Here we are, stuck gods only know how deep below ground and they just ignore something huge like that.  But...not wanting to get separated, I followed along as the group pressed forward.  Shortly, we stopped again, examining some gadgets or whatever.  There were a couple of busted bridges with ropes on could use to swing across. Of course...on the other side....more traps. Handy.  And beyond those, some kind of small room
  I stood and watched them fumble with traps curiosity and annoyance got the better of me. I walked back to the platform...no one seemed to notice either.  I walked up to the obelisk and examined it once more. Teleportation magic...I was certain of it. And I knew, somehow, it was part of something bigger.  I reached out my hand to see if I could get a better sense...and then I wasn't standing by the obelisk any longer.  For a brief instant, I wondered how long it would be until anyone would notice I was gone, but the thought was pushed from my mind by a single word...spoken, if such a term applies, by the obelisk...or perhaps by something tied to it.
  At first, I thought I was imagining it, but no...I definitely heard it spoken in my mind. I am certain of it now.
  It all happened in the space between moments...I think.  I found myself standing in this little room beyond the traps...and apparently standing on a trap myself...surrounded by Kobal, Triba and Rev. They wondered how I got there...I told them.  Rev seemed annoyed (oh well)...Kobal concerned (probably because I was standing on a trap)...Triba thought it was neat. And then they ran off before I could tell them the part about the word.  We rejoined the rest and Rev went on about not touching strange teleporting obelisks...who does she think she is, my mother?  By Lucinda, even my own mother was never that naggy.
  Onward and onward....through dangers, mazes and so forth.  We found a book of someone who had been here before.  It spoke of portals, some leading back to the beginning of this place.  He seemed frustrated.  Who knows how long he spent here, or if he's even still here at all...well, alive anyway. 
  Most curiously, we entered a forest...though still deep underground, a forest all the same.  The Weave told me what should be obvious to everyone.  This environment, while thriving, was artificial, transformed by powerful transmutive magics by some unknown power, and further maintained by some means. I can hardly begin to fathom what great power could achieve such a feat, and if it weren't for the giant horned lizards, it wouldn't be such a bad place to live.
  The journal we found turned out to be quite useful.  A maze of caverns with several portals within.  Most, if not all, marked in some way, though the markers were grim, but perhaps blood was the only thing he had left to use. Rather than a portal, we found a secret doorway, and that turned out to be the right choice...or it seems....so far.
  Two portals...two statues, or whatever they were (in the margin is written "Seemed more real than that"), one behind each portal.  One statue, a lovely young girl, though with a trace of...something...despair maybe?  The other, a shadow creature of some kind.  Two portals, two choices. Somehow the word spoken to me by the obelisk came back to my mind, and confirmed to me what several others had already deduced.  Into the portal by the shadow-thing.
  At least we're not back at the beginning.
  We seem to be getting somewhere...things seem to be changing. Our current camp sits in an odd chamber with several levers, a gong and a magically locked gate.  More puzzles.
  A few, like Rev, think this place, this whole thing, is a trap.  Others, I among them, think it's a test.  I get the feeling that we'll know soon enough.

[Dorganath]

*The writing is somewhat rushed and haphazard, as if due to strain, fatigue or some other factor*
  The weight of the cavern ceiling is starting to be felt by many, I think...that and not having seen the sun in...I don't know.
  More puzzles.  More frayed nerves, We solved some puzzle with levers and such, though I'm not really sure how.  It seems people were having trouble knowing what to do and when.  The plan was fine, the leadership was fine, but the communication was poor, the desire to be out of this hole starting to impair judgement and reason. Talan and Triba are at odds.  Rev is...Rev. Plen kept his composure somehow amidst all of thi....
  *the writing ends abruptly, continuing below at a later time.  This time the writing is larger than normal, reflecting perhaps anger.  There's a slight unusual darkening of the parchment in some places*
  That LIAR!!! How could she do this?  How could she not tell me?  Have I completely lost her trust?  How long has it been now?  How long has this deception gone on? How long before we left?
  WHERE IS LISSE'? *underlined several times*
  She will answer for this...when survival is not so much an issue....and when my head has calmed to the point where I do not have an urge to unleash the Weave's fury upon her. *an ink blot and a fairly large darkened area appear below*

[Dorganath]

*Connor approaches the door to his home in Krandor under the cover of night.  He takes a moment to turn and look out over the waters, then up into the familiar night sky.  A small smile lights his otherwise weary face, obscured in darkness and shrouded by his hood.  As he passes his staff to his left hand to unlock the door, its electric glow briefly reveals exhaustion, fatigue and contemplation.*
  *He enters and locks the door behind him.  He absently drops his equipment and packs as he walks through his bedroom to the back room he uses as a study. Taking out his journal, he drops himself into his desk chair, takes out a quill and begins to write*
  Three months.  That is what the calendars say.  Three months we were gone...trapped in that...place.  To call it a hole doesn't do it justice.  It's more...much more.  I was right...the caverns with their mysterious puzzles, deceptive portals and cunning traps were all just a big test of some sort...A test we passed!
  I'm tempted to write down all we discovered after this test, but as I contemplated the meaning of events, I find the gaps in what I know seem to outnumber the facts that I do know. I think I shall have some conversations before even attempting to record the end of our journey.
  And Katrien...still, nothing from her.  Not a word...hardly even a look. Does she honestly think I don't know?  Does she think me that stupid now?  It was quite obvious, even if we were disoriented. What makes her think she can mess with our fates like this?  What gives her... *ink blot*
  I hope Lar didn't put her up to this...or that "host" of hers...
  *Connor pauses in thought a moment, then closes his journal and takes out a fresh piece of parchment.  He starts to write several times, pausing each time before his quill even touched the parchment.  Finally, he puts the quill back in its well, having not written a single word.  From a desk drawer, he pulls a small iron dagger and sets it on top of the parchment, stands and prepares for bed.*

[Dorganath]

I was talking to my old friend Mara recently in Hlint...which was otherwise strangely quiet.  It seems Sand has gone missing.  None have seen him, and she has not heard from him for quite some time. I hope he has not fallen from the graces of Lucinda, or worse, I hope he has not forsaken Her Grace.
  While we spoke, along came Kat...the first time I'd seen her since Arabel. She tried to approach me invisibly, but by now I am quite used to the way she ripples the Weave. Mara left shortly after Kat arrived...perhaps she sensed the tension.
  And oh what a cheap trick.  She came bearing Lisse' wrapped in her arms.  How was I supposed to stay angry with her as she cradled my niece lovingly in her arms?  Such tactics are simply not fair at all.  She explained herself, logically, calmly...She was trying to protect me...to keep me from worrying about Lisse' while we were gone.  She didn't stop to consider that in doing so, I worried more after discovering her ruse, and then on top of that...anger.
  *Connor sits back from writing a moment, pauses to gather his thoughts and then continues*
  She is perfect.  Whatever lingering anger I felt for Kat melted away as I gazed fully for the first time upon Lisse'. It is ironc that I have looked with such eagerness upon this day, and at the same time, I have felt great dread for the same day.   I can only guess what will happen now, but I know that if the armies of the Abyss came for her, I would fight with ever means in my power until Lucinca's gentle hands usher me to the Afterlife...or the Soul Mother feasts upon my rotting remains.
  Jacee, Jharl and that young couple in Hlint took good care of her.  Kat chose well, it seems, and I am glad.  I am also glad that she has chosen to move out of that den of the drow she called home for so long. I never trusted them...ever.  Their "hospitality" would have run out as soon as it served their purposes.  I gave Kat a spare room in my house.  It's seen no use at all since Ollom and Fian left for...wherever it is they went.   She wasted little time gettng settled, and probably enlisted that poor Jharl to carry all the heavy things.  Ah well, at least it feels more like a home now.  I'm told that soon, Lisse' will have no more need of a wet nurse, and then this will be her home as well, for as long as she needs it to be.
  -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
  I talked to Triba today.  She helped to answer many of the questions I had since returning from that long jouney.  Still, as I sit down to write this, I remember at least one...and probably more...question I forgot to ask.  Oh well, next time.
  I asked about Eldárwen and the twins.  I'm told they are well, and that the twins will soon be back.  I am pleased to hear this.  I have missed them greatly.

[Dorganath]

Child of sound...INDEED! *underlined several times*
  Let it not be said that Lisse' has not found her voice.  By the gods, I'd swear those who seek her for their ill plans could simply follow the sound, even from their deep holes in the earth.  I got the easy part of being an uncle with the twins, I think. Of course, then, I could just go home.  This time, I am home.  Yet, for all the interrupted sleep and seemingly random fits of crying, I would not change a thing.
  Some of the gossip mavens in Krandor have been talking.  Spreading rumors...spreading half-truths.  I don't know if Kat hears them, but I do.  They assume a lot about that which they don't understand.  I suppose it's natural, but then they don't seem to want to know the truth.  Scandal is much more interesting.

[Dorganath]

Some have spoken of a recent incident outside Shifter's tower.  I somehow avoided this event, which seems to have pulled people from all over Mistone.  I don't recall where I was or what I was doing at the time, but I suppose that doesn't matter.
  Recently, a group gathered outside that same tower to discuss those events and the events down in that...dungeon...those three months we spent below the dark places of this world...what, and who, we found. Also discussed were the recent attacks by Blood's forces upon Velensk and the Dragon Isles.  The latter definitely concerns me...and for more reasons that most people, I think. Talan, always eager to show off something or other, kept speaking the Shifter's name...something we learned down below.  He was rewarded by a jolt of lightning.  Silly elf! Doesn't he know that names have power? 
  Shifter took an interest in our conversation, it seems.  Maybe it was Talan's big mouth...or perhaps he's was watching.  How exciting....only one other time had I seen Shifter, and that was a rather chance, and unnerving, encounter outside of Krandor.  This time was less-so...perhaps because I know more now.  He spoke with us in the tongue of the shadow folk we found deep below, and told us of some tasks ahead, and what we must do to gain his help.  During this conversation, Rev...another silly elf...spoke his name as well.  She doesn't learn to quickly, I think.  She received the same measure of correction as Talan....a bolt of lightning to the head.  Though it was then that we learned that his name, along with those of his "brothers" is cursed, and when spoken, it can make those who know of the curse aware of things perhaps that we would rather they not know.
  In an effort that seemed to drain him greatly,  Shifter showed us a vision of an attack on Roldem by Blood's forces. Despite its considerable military strength, especially its navy, Roldem fell.  The victory by Blood's forces was quite decisive.  So we formed some plans and decided that notifying the Queen was the best place to start.  Plenarius flew down to Velensk to alert them of the situation, and Talan and Lalaith kept to themselves, speaking in whispers, and then took off on their own....to where I do not know.  She knows something that she's guarding closely...too closely.  I'm not sure if she thinks she's helping anyone or not, but I think the time has come for her to start sharing.
  Our group, after alerting the Queen, began making plans to head to Roldem, if nothing else but to warn them of their impending danger.  Some of us, a small minority, remembered the trapped soul we found in Roldem, and after our conversation with Shifter, it became apparent that besides the strategic military significance of Roldem, Blood also sought this soul, either to use it for himself, prevent us from gaining it or simply to destroy it.  Rev kept pushing for our mission to be one of warning for the inhabitants of Roldem, to help them prepare for the coming onslaught.
  Rev....She always seems to be listening to something, but rarely seems to actually be doing anything of the sort. 
  As we talked, we learned that Blood's attack had already started.  The vision we were shown told us that the victory would be complete.  And yet still, she missed the bigger picture.  The trapped soul was the true target, and should be for us as well. She debated that we had to get some necklace for Shifter first...concerned we were doing things out of order.  What a fool!  I suppose her primary goals were noble, but other than a warning, there was nothing we could do for the people of Roldem.  Without the soul, though, our fight might become much more difficult, if not impossible. 
  But that red-haired elf is something else...as much as she hated the idea, she was the first in line to speak to the soul once we reached it.  *ink blot*
  We succeeded, though, and that's really all that matters.  Some artifact we found in that old dwarven temple below the Cloven Mountains turned out to be a vessel for transporting a soul, and so we convinced the soul to come with us.  And not a moment too soon, either.  Bloods troops were already swarming.  We got out as quickly as we could.  A success to be sure, but not to the people of Roldem. I can only hope and pray that our warnings reached people in time.

[Dorganath]

Kobal has been on my mind of late.  The tone of his recent letter to me gave me cause for concern, as did the unusual implications of him asking for assistance.  Fates conspired against me, and I arrived too late to board the ship from Saudiria. *ink blot*
  I only hope he does not think I have abandoned him in his time of need.
  I do not like leaving friends hanging like this, especially those to whom I owe so much.  Perhaps it is time to take mastery over fate, to use every means at my disposal to catch up to him in this time of need.  The dock hands think they may know where the ship was headed, and I got good descriptions of the ship's markings. Perhaps a visit to Port Hampshire is in order...

[Dorganath]

I ran into Fat Jack in Lorindar. Good! It made my trip shorter and would get me to Kobal faster. He was having his crew release the moorings before I even finished telling him where we were going...though when I did, he just about had them put it all back. He started going on about cursed waters and how he wouldn't risk the 'corn on such a fools errand. After some debate, he agreed to get me close, and he would tow a skiff along to go the rest of the way. I told him I'd be sure to let Kailia know what a great service he had done.
  As with most trips on the 'corn, we made great time, the ship cutting through water almost as if it wasn't there at all. When we got close, the 'corn dropped sail and the skiff was brought along side. Using this smaller (expendable) craft and its crew of one (besides myself) set out to search these waters. We had searched for a long time and saw nothing for a long time. Hope was fading, until finally we caught sight of some smoke and debris. Granted, not the signs for which I had hoped, but it was better than just empty seas.
  It was them...their ship damaged beyond hope, they were able to abandon ship and hold onto a larger bit of floating debris, though the waters were apparently infested with sharks. The skiff pulled along side them and I helped pull everyone from the water...tired, wet, cold, battle-worn, but alive.
  We turned back to the 'corn for food, drink and rest...something sorely needed by all. They recounted what had happened to them since leaving. They were headed to an island blessed by the goddess Ilsare, though now cursed somehow...passage to the island prevented by a fleet of haunted ships, teeming with undead, and which add to their ranks with each kill...those who die on one of those ships become undead themselves, if not properly tended.
  It has been a long several days, and everyone is in need of rest...including me. The 'corn's hospitality has been above reproach, as always. Time now for rest...Tomorrow we prepare.
  -----------------------------------------------
  Jack won't take the 'corn anywhere near the island...I can't say I blame him. But Kobal would swim to that island if that's what it took, so we worked out a deal. We would take the skiff to the island. Jack's crew would train us to sail the skiff over the next two days, and he would wait with the 'corn here for a tenday...a fair deal, since the possibility exists of not returning.
  Overnight, an idea hit me...a way to get past the undead ships...safely...without combat. I don't even know if it's possible, but it should be... I'll spend the day trying to figure it out, but it should work...it's just an illusion afterall, and the undead seem to be fooled by it in most cases.
  -----------------------------------------------
  I stayed up far too late with my research, and today we depart. I'll rest on the skiff...it will be a few days before we reach the island's waters. I've prepared about all I can...there will be time for one test, I think, and time for me to rest and restore my strength before the true test.
  -----------------------------------------------
  Lucinda provides...it worked! Perhaps I was foolish for taking on such a major challenge to my abilities. Lucinda knows I'm not as strong in the Weave as I could be. My test run was disheartening...I got the mast to vanish, random objects on the deck vanished (including a few dwarves), but I wasn't close to getting the result I had hoped for. The Weave burned as I gathered its energies in such great quantities, and the attempt left me weakened. After some healing, rest and meditation, I figured out where I went wrong. As we neared the island, it was time for another attempt.
  I sat behind the mast, placing my hands upon it. Ahndar stood behind me, lending his strength in the Lady and the Weave to me as I worked. Never before had I felt such energy flow through me. It seared at my skin...at my mind...at my very life. The ship of the undead approached and the our group prepared for battle, but I knew none of that as I set my mind in concentration to the task. My mind's eye saw the shifting patterns in the Weave, threads I would need to control to make this work. And then I saw, through the haze of pain as the Weave's energies tore through me, I saw the pattern I needed and locked onto that...and our small ship vanished from sight. I did not actually see that it had happened, but I knew...the Weave told me. But my task was not done, I had to hold until I knew we were safely past...and so I held, and as I held I knew nothing but the singular pattern I held and the Weave's energies coursing through me like liquid fire. I began to feel myself slipping away...the energy from the Weave was too much for me...one by one the strands of life keeping me here were burned away. What little awareness I had told me there were few left, but I persisted until the last one burned away...
  I awoke, my soul answering Ahndar's call by the Grace of Lucinda. My head pounded in pain with each beat of my heart, my skin felt raw, screaming in discomfort with even the slightest touches...even my teeth hurt, and my eyes felt like I had sand in them. Through this haze though, I seem to remember at least one Voraxian priest giving me praises, and we weren't undead, so I knew then that it had worked. I guess it was worth the cost and worth the pain...I only hope that I don't have to do it again on the way out.
  -----------------------------------------------
  This island doesn't want us here...that's for sure, though I'll take its occasional protests over the fleet that encircles it. This place is supposed to be blessed by Ilsare, but apparently the curse that afflicts it didn't get the news. And, the island has guardians. Several celestials in Ilsare's service stood in front of a curtain of light, warning those who approached that only the Harper may pass. I guess this is was the only time I wished she was around, but there's no way to get her here except through that fleet again, and I don't think I can keep doing that.
  Kobal told us about the curse...something to do with a Ring of Thanes, which itself was cursed, and set to rest on some altar on this island where the Ring of Stars should be. I can only assume that alter lies beyond the guardians. And it was this Ring of Thanes that he sought.
  There was supposedly something buried here, something related to the curse...or something to help break it. Some looked for this...whatever...and I caught sight of a carved stone perched up on a ledge. I climbed up to investigate it, and while trying to decipher the engravings, I must have blacked out. I saw a vision...I was standing on a path, far ahead was an open temple and a figure clad in white. I held a golden harp that I strummed casually... I was the Harper. In my vision, I started down the path, growing ever closer to the temple. Then suddenly, I was back on the ledge and far away from the stone. Kobal pulled me away I think. I was annoyed...I think I mentioned that out loud, but who knows if the others heard me or not. I eventually went back and sat before the stone again. Once more I was given the vision, once more I walked down the path, and once more I was dragged away by a dwarf. This time I got really irritated with...whoever it was.
  I told the dwarf, in no uncertain terms, unless I was dying to leave me be. At least the third time he listened. It started again, same as before. As I drew nearer the temple, my steps became heavy, and apprehension stirred in my stomach. Above were the stars of Ilsare, and from that constellation, one single star fell into my hand, where it became a ring...the Ring of Stars. After what seemed an eternity, I reached the temple and approached the figure in White. The figure was quite oviously a woman dressed as a bride, her face turned away and veiled from sight.
  Before long, I stood before her. I lifted the veil, and the face that greeted me was....horrid. It was festering and dead, maggots and worms thrived within the rotting flesh. Her hand, a perfect living hand, reached out to the back of my head to bring me forward for the first kiss of marriage, though it did not force. Not knowing what else to do, I put the ring on to her other hand and went forward to accept the kiss.
  As I did, the face changed and took on a familiar form. Her skin became smooth, alive and dark, her dead eyes became alive and colored like rubies and her hair became smooth and pure white. This was the face of a friend, a student, another who shared tha same Weave gifts as I. But what was Ilsare trying to tell me? Why her? Why now?
  -----------------------------------------------
  The vision ended, and it seems the others made some progress finding a buried chest. within the chest was a ring, a ring which looked like the Ring of Stars, but which was clearly not. In fact, though, it was a clever construct that was designed to detect threads of divination and then appear to that divination as whatever the divination expected it to be. In theory, this could appear to be the Ring of Stars. The problem of course is to get past the guardians and to the altar to replace it. Kobal tried to put on the ring and pass the barrier, which he did with ease, but he returned shortly after, running, panting...the guardians on the other side apparently did not approve of him.
  Few options remained. It's uncertain whether or not I could have cloaked us again as before. The last time they tried going against that ship of undead, they nearly all joined their ranks, and now their ranks have swelled by the numbers of the crew of the ship that they were on when I found them. Going back did not seem a viable option. The curse had to end, and with the curse ended, the island could heal. So we chose forward.
  Those on the outside of the curtain were single-minded. Only the Harper may pass, though they would not prevent us. No discussion, no exceptions. They know of the curse, but they were bound to their duty.
  Through the curtain we passed, and we faced others bound to their duty, celestials of great strength and ability standing between us and the altar. The fight was hard, and a few of our own fell. Eventually, we killed the last, though there was no thrill in that victory, no sense of accomplishment, only a grim scene of unnecessary death.
  The altar stood before us. On the altar a stone hand. On the hand a ring...the Ring of Thanes. It seems odd, but the finger on which the ring rested seemed to be decaying. Above the altar, the stars of Ilsare twinkled and alternated between the pattern of a heart and the Archer, though one extra star circled with them. When this star was overhead, Kobal removed the Ring of Thanes from the stone hand. This seems to have had a positive effect, and so we were content to leave as quickly as possible. Our way out was blocked, but we say them before they saw us, thankfully.
  Back at the altar, Kobal again waited for the appropriate time and placed the "impostor" ring upon the stone finger. This did the trick, at least for now. It's not the true Ring of Stars, but it was enough for those that guard this place. We left unopposed and walked through the curtain.
  -----------------------------------------------
  Soon after, we left the island, our trip back to the 'corn was uneventful, the macabre fleet of undead now gone. Jack and his crew returned us to Harper's Ferry expertly and swiftly, and all of us took the opportunity to rest and reflect.
  My thoughts remained on the vision, and what we had done. The celestials were only fulfilling their duty, but the island is free of the curse now. It can begin to heal and the Harper can come and set things back to where they should be...maybe. The guardians didn't seem to have much faith in the current Harper...or the last several Harpers for that matter.
  Was there another choice? Yes. Would we have survived to try it? Maybe, maybe not. And if not, the island would still be cursed. So perhaps the ends justified the means... *ink blot*
  For my part in this, if I'm asked to go back and help heal the island, I will, though the true healing will be brought in the hands of the Harper.

[Dorganath]

*the writing is hurried and written in a way that suggests urgency or anger*
  Who the hell does she think she is?  Oh I'm well aware of her titles, and her status, but that gives her no right to deface soil that belongs to Lucinda...and without even asking the Tower or even considering the opinions of the group.  She comes late to the party and then thinks she's in charge.  Ha!  She's always been flighty in my memory, but this beats all!
  Once again, as in the legend of Angel's Tear, it was Lucindites against Ilsarians, though on a smaller scale.....I'm wondering who invited her along.  Bloody pretentious elf.  I pray my own elven heritage was not so...frustrating.  Though what I have seen of elves so far is not encouraging.  And that puppet of hers...Athus.  What a pretentious snob with that fan he's always got, and his meticulously tended clothing. Two peas in a pod they are.  And to think I once liked them.  What was I thinking?
  With some amusement, I've learned that the halfling Acacea is a better singer than the so-called Harper of Ilsare.  Or perhaps it was the song itself.  On the night the Angels Tear was to bloom...but didn't because of some ancient and linked interference...there were two songs in the air: a "red" one and a "blue" one. Acacea seems to have some sort of resonnance with the blue song. When she sings it, she draws the Weave to her in all its glory.  Visible to all, not only the Weave-gifted, her song brought the shimmering essence of Lucinda Herself to play around Acacea's small form.  I must say I find her performance quite calming and pleasant.  Rev and Athus tried to duplicate it with the red song, and failed...miserably.  Their perfomances, while otherwise perfect, lacked the bond that Acacea clearly had.  In fact, their meager attempts were met with a violent backlash by the blue song...a backlash which hit everyone in the immediate area. 
  Once I learned of Acacea's bond, and the lack of such a bond in Athus or Rev, I asked Rev to stop sining.  She responded by attempting to change the song, once again, to fill in the parts that she thought had to be missing.  I mean, afterall, how could she possibly fail right? Whatever...
  And even after I explained that the song was fine, it was the singer that was the problem, that he and Rev lacked that essential bond that Acacea has with the blue song, they did not listen.  Oh, they stopped, but they also assumed it was some sort of veiled insult.  Bloody fool that Athus! Fine, if he doesn't want to hear the truth, then I'll find someone who does.  Kat will listen.  There are others.
  Alantha's behavior has turned suddenly odd.  She seems to be staring at me with an almost unsettling frequency.  The's openly hostile to Kat, uttering curses in Drow that border on murderous, even intentionally and forcefully bumping into Kat as she walks by.  I do not know what is causing this sudden shift, but it's concerning...and I'm beginning to wonder if she can be trusted any longer.  But perhaps it's best to keep my suspicions to myself for now... *ink blot*

[Dorganath]

* This entry is written with a flourish not previously seen anywhere in the journal.  It implies a sense of joy and enthusiasm, almost as if the need to express thoughts is overwhelming the ability to write them.*
  How is it I did not see this before.  How is it she could have gone unnoticed in my sight, yet straight in front of me at the same time.  Oh the time I have squandered when I could have been spending it with her.  No matter I suppose, I will just have to make up the time now.
  I must remember to thank Eldárwen for the introduction those many months ago...or has it been years now? No matter.
  We had to part ways for now...our paths diverging for a short time.  I pray she stays safe, that the Mother keeps her safe within the protective Weaves she will raise for herself.  My heart aches in her absence, and my mind thinks of little else.  I look eagerly forward to the time when we can walk the hills west of Blackford, with the light of a rising moon sparkling across the water and twinkling in her ruby eyes.... *small ink blot*

[Dorganath]

After ages, it seems, I have finally met up with Eldárwen in Pranzis after...I have forgotten how long.  She tells me the twins are on Mistone, which is happy news indeed.  Though there was little time to catch up it seems. Eldárwen brought concerning tidings...things I'd rather not think much about, much less write. Though I suppose such things cannot be ignored for long.

[Dorganath]

Following the trail of clues from the devas and Legodia, eventually came upon the tower Legodia mentioned.  Our trail turned dark, and by that I do not mean a lack of light, but rather in terms of tiding and the feeling of the very air.  Corrupted creatures of all sorts stood before us, returning to their natural states in death, each branded by a distorted symbol of Lucinda.
  What foul use of the Weave was this?
  The tower most certainly belonged to a Lucindite....perhaps the very one in the legend of the Angel's Tear itself.  Warded much like the Tower in Spellgard, the tower stood amongst a grove of trees...an intricate scene depicted on its walls.  The scene was the key to unlocking the wards, which fell with half-hearted protest as we touched the correct symbol. 
  Our next challenge, the door itself.  Locked yes...trapped also with a magic of great power and lethality. Brac'ar, though a grumpy dwarf with no appreciation for good singing, expertly defused or redirected the complex magical trap on the door.  One last trap remained.  According to Rufus, the trap would have bathed the area in negative energy...and I found I could not find a reason to distrust that assessment.  This last trap was triggered by the door, but not from the outside.  It could only be disarmed from inside. Bil's imp tried to enter the tower through a window and came out in pieces...a most unpleasant sight....possibly more due to Bil's odd way of crying...if it can be called that. Rufus was more successful, though seeing him in pixie form was a bit unsettling.
  Once inside, more odd things awaited.  Two strange gardens filled with magic and flowers both mundane and magical themselves, several statues that seemed almost lifelike though missing some essential spark, a small room containing notes and shelves filled with small glass figurines. Some of these statues held a lump of clay...and seemed to possess some sort of life of their own.  One even jumped from the shelves and ran off down the hall. Acacea found a little unicorn figurine, and is keeping it as a pet.  It's kind of cute, and kind of...odd.
  We never found the little scared statue, but we did find a lot of golems...or they found us.  Either way, four of our group fell...Rev, Rolf, Jharl and Brac'.  The rest of us made it back outside to regroup and formulate a plan of rescue. Upon our return, the statues in the front hall began to seem familiar...the big one even starting to resemble Rev.  I knew we had to hurry.  My fears were confirmed when we went back to the find the bodies of the fallen missing.
  We found them, eventually...lying at the bottom of a dank pool, a scum-encrusted body of what was once water but now was fully unrecognizable. In the same room was some odd equipment, magical conduits and a glowing mirror. The bodies of our friends were being eaten away by what appeared to be some kind of worm, though I've never seen worms such as these. To our shock, a golem walked into the room carrying Savin and dumped his lifeless body into the pool as well.
  Athus figured out the mirror was some kind of control device.  The conduits were fascinating, and Alantha wondered if such things could be used to expand one's ability with the Weave.  I couldn't let her try that though...the results would be...ugly.  Athus figured out the controls, freed Rev from the hold of this pool, then restored her to life.  He then did the same for the rest, then he and Rev restored their lives.  When the last of our group was removed, the magical machinery shut down.  We exited the tower once again, under cloaks of invisibility, and now we sit outside in its shadow.
  It's been a long day...or days perhaps...I do not know.  I am tired, and tonight the base of this tree is my bed.
  *Connor closes the journal, tucks it away and rests his head back against the base of the tree and falls quickly to sleep*

[Dorganath]

* Connor awakens slowly in the early dawn light. Beside him rests a slender dark-skinned elf woman, her head lying gently in his lap*
  She's sleeping, or whatever it is that elves do. I resist the urge to wake her, for she needs rest, though I suppose just being this close is good enough.  For so long have I kept up the walls to my core, protected against the whims of the ignorant and intolerant...and the one who was so easily swayed by them. For so long, the walls kept me empty, and then I came here at the dragon's call and I felt the warm touch of the Weave and Lucinda, and so I had something to fill the void.  And yet the walls stayed.  For fourteen years now, they have stayed.
  But why now?  Why here? Why her? How strangely ironic...and yet welcome. It is beyond explanation and yet I feel no need to explain.  It just is, and is maybe this is something in my life that I don't need to try to explain.  I did it once before when I embraced the Weave, maybe can do it once more....for her.
  *written hurriedly* She stirs....