Journal of a travelling poet

[Meizter]

*a small compact book in dark leather binding, with words written in a slender elegant handwriting adorning many pages, it is obvious that this book is used often and the ink is relatively fresh*   The Journal of Geir Sigurdson Travelling Poet and Minstrel  Well perhaps a bit late to start my journal, but better late than never. I am sitting here in my room at the Wild Surge Inn in Hlint after a bit of adventure. We did not fare very well at all, but perhaps this tale should begin at the beginning, as most tales do in fact, although some seem to start at other points, but that must be bad storytelling.   I arrived here in Hlint some time ago in the month of Snow Deep, along with my brother Skarp-Heiden. I got here before him and looked a bit around town and shopped a bit for supplies while waiting for Skarp. While waiting I met up with a paladin of Vorax I believe it was, named Sir Rolf Ridderwall, a very friendly fellow I might add. We spoke a bit and then he told me of the undead plague that is in the crypts below Hlint graveyard. He himself was on a most noble quest to rid the world of the undead, and we decided to venture into the crypts. Him to end the plague, and well to be honest, me to get fame and fortune. I also anticipated that this would make a grand tale once we emerged victorious from the crypts, but alas I was perhaps enjoying the spoils of war in my mind a little too early. In the crypt we fought many undead beasts, but they swiftly fell before Sir Ridderwalls blade. I did the part of stripping the now really dead of their belongings, well I don’t know if it is right to call it belongings when they are creatures born of darkness. But at least Sir Ridderwall said that it was right to take their things, and I must agree, that money lies much better in my purse than in some ragged purse on a walking skeleton, and no I don’t mean a very thin man, but a REAL walking skeleton. So I had a bit of gold and really felt like we could not be defeated, until we met this creature that looked like shadow, I have later heard it to be called a darksoul. It touched me and I felt myself slip away into nothingness.  This is where I think I may have been a little too careless, weighed down by my newfound gold, and the possibilities it opened I did not think much of this danger, but I was wrong. This is perhaps something I should remember for later, one should know ones limitations and focus at the task at hand.  Well in any way I woke up in Hlint near the great glowing ankh, which I have been told is called a bindstone. It is a place that brings us back when we die, but at a cost. This is however most fascinating, does that mean that we are immortal, not literally, but in some way since we get returned here. This yields endless possibilities. *scribbled in the margin* “I must think further of this!”  My companion however soon returned victorious from the crypts, and brought with him the essence of the foul darksoul. We parted ways and that night I wrote a poem about this ordeal called “The Paladin and the Minstrel”.   In a town so serene, a plague was growing unseen. Undead roamed the crypts of town, and most men did upon that frown.  Two strangers met and thought, To end the plague they sought. one a paladin strong and bold, the other a minstrel who a story told.  Into the crypts they went, With light from heavens sent. Sir Rolf held forth his sword, and forward strode the courageous lord.  In the darkest crypt they found, a creature there was bound. a creature dark as night, with eyes that were glowing bright.  undead servants it had, but it mattered not a tad. into the fray they went, so the creature to darkness could be sent.  But alas the minstrel fared not well, the creature took him to hell. As the minstrel was torn from this place, Sir Rolf smashed the creatures face.  As dust settled the plague was no more, the essence of the creature the paladin bore. A hero, fair and strong he is, the minstrel we sure will miss.  Their names will sound in every hall, the minstrel and Sir Ridderwall.  I am sure it will be a good tale to tell near the fireplace with a mug of ale in the hand, well Skarp probably won’t like it he would more like something like   Oh great axe you are my friend, My strength to you I lend. And foes we shall sunder, With a roar like thunder.  Hmm, I think he might actually like that one, I should tell it to him later.   I met up with Skarp later, and we went to a cave where goblins dwell. I have once heard tales that they can sneak up on you during the night, and kill you in your sleep, so it is a just cause to go there to claim the head of their leader. Skarp and I joined up with some others, two of which claimed to have been saved by a goblin. This is strange, but I also saw that goblin, and it spoke in the common tongue, although not very articulate it did speak. I thought all such creatures were evil, but if a goblin will save a human then perhaps they are not all like that. However there is also a possibility that it was a trick, but in any case I will be careful of such creatures. Well to make a long story short, well just shorter, we went into the caves. They were lit by a strange eerie red light and we fought many goblins on our way to the bottom of the cave, where we took the head of their leader and claimed victory. However on our way out we were assaulted by goblins who seemed to have been waiting for us, and well, I fell once more. The others fared better in the battle, and could when I reached the caves again meet me at the entrance.     But again I believe I have learnt a lesson, I fell because I did not stay close to the others, and that must be my mistake, as well as I once again was almost drunken with joy because we had prevailed over the creatures in the lair. I HAVE TO REMEMBER THIS; otherwise I fear that I will not be here for long.

[Meizter]

Nothing much has happened the last days, I have confined myself to Hlint at the moment as I fear for my life when I travel in the surrounding areas. Skarp says there is nothing to be afraid of, but I do not have his strength, sometimes I envy that, his strength and his skill with weapons. I have made some instruments from some lumber that Skarp brought me from one of his trips to the surrounding area. That was interesting, I feel that perhaps this is a trade for me, although I am not quite sure where to sell my goods, but that will come with time I guess.

[Meizter]

Today I once again forgot what I had told myself to remember. Skarp and I went with a band of people to kill some lizard folks that roam the high moors east of Hlint. We were quite a few of us, Brant, whom I have seen often in town and consider my friend as well as a seasoned adventurer called Brualot, a mage I believe of great power. We also had a paladin and a scout with us. In the beginning we fared well, killing lizardmen wherever we saw them. These foul creatures eats human flesh I have heard, so I was a little scared I must admit, but it would not be good for morale to admit that I think. We actually got to the bottom of their cave, which in some ways resembled a temple more but here we were assaulted by many warriors and wizards and as so often before I fell. Our scout did say that only a few were ahead, but why did he not see the others, it troubles me that a scout missed that many foes, but perhaps they were hiding themselves, I do not know, and I guess I never will. It gave a lot of debate though on whose fault it was, but I will not delve into that since it is only hard words and accusations.

[Meizter]

This has been a most exciting day for me. I have perhaps made some unlikely friends. I was hunting a bit in the Sielwood when I was suddenly attacked. I was greatly outnumbered by huge spiders, which caught me in their web. But I was saved by the most unlikely creature of all. A drow! He saved me from what would have been certain death, and did not even request some reward for this. I know Skarp says that I must be suspicious of these dark elves, but I walked with him back to Hlint while we spoke of this and that. His name is Arwinath, and he seems genuinely friendly. Later we were standing in the crafting house in Hlint speaking with poor Johan the fur trader, whose wife is ill he says. I have agreed to help him gather some pelts, but he has asked for the pelt of a cougar, and neither I nor Arwinath knew where these big cats live. We were now approached by a goblin, yes a goblin who called himself Bil. Although I somewhat trusted Arwinath I had no trust whatsoever for this creature. He said he was a great wizard and would take us to the cougars, and we agreed, but also let him know that if he tricked us we would kill him where he stood. We travelled far from Hlint until we found the cougars and got the much needed pelts. And not once did Bil seem to be dishonest, he led us away from dangerous places and took care of us. I must surely rethink my opinion of others. Finally on our way back we spotted ogres near Kranton, and as we tried to sneak by them, we got attacked, and Arwinath and I fell. I will not blame neither Arwinath nor Bil for my death, it was my own fault and we all fought to the best of our ability I believe, we were just in over our head. There is that thing with limitations again, some day I must learn what my limitations are…and hopefully soon. But alas I began walking back to kranton so I could ease my troubled soul where I died. In Fort Llast I met Bil and Arwinath and together we travelled to the place of our demise. Bil made us invisible so we could get safely there, and I believe that without him we could not have done it. The invisibility was most exciting, I hope I can learn that one day, would sure be a good trick to pull on Skarp. I have promised to compose a grand poem of this adventure in the honour of this strange and unlikely company. I think I will call it “strange company”…well perhaps I will find a better title. But it was fascinating, neither the goblin nor the drow was as evil as I have been told that they should be. Most say that these are inherently evil races, but I do not believe so. I have seen elven mercenaries attack travellers, but does that mean that all elves are evil, I do not think so. Then why should it be any different with drows or goblins, I know one should be wary of these creatures, but at least these two I will trust. They have fought for me and with me and I for and with them, and no evil has there been. I will call them my friends.

[Meizter]

A most strange thing happened today. We were a small group consisting of my friend Brant, Awrinath and then we got company from a man named Ulver and a cleric by the name of Reana. We went to the high forest to gather bear pelts, and the trip was good without incident. Then as we entered the forest I believe Ulver said that he had seen a man amongst us while we were fighting a brown bear. I did not see this man, but I trust in Ulvers keen eyes. This disturbed me somewhat as I believe it must have been a spirit of the wood, perhaps it would not take lightly on us killing the bear. But no matter we continued as we needed more pelts. Soon we found another bear and again the fight went well for us. However moments later another bear appeared and ripped Reana to shreds with its great paws. I myself barely escaped the claws of the beast before it was felled by the others. Then this is where my story is strange. Suddenly a man was kneeling over the body of Reana, and she was engulfed in a soft golden glow. And then she was alive again. I thought the man was Arwinath as he had the same dark clothes and stature, but then I saw Arwinath come from further away. When I looked again the man was gone, I did not speak much of it since I did not want to sound dumb, but I do not know what this creature was. I hope it was just a benign spirit of the wood, but I have a fear that perhaps it is more. I have not dared venture into the forest since, and I have also not seen Reana since, which in some way frightens me even more. What if this was not a good natured spirit, but what if it in some way has done something to her. I have not spoken to others of this as I will not cause any fear amongst others, and I hope I am wrong…please let me be wrong.

[Meizter]

Brant has asked me to compose a song for his beloved. I am very honoured by this and hope I can do them both just. I have started on the song as well as on making a fine instrument to accompany it.

[Meizter]

Today I told Angru some of the story of the Gem Tree. Angru is my newfound dwarven friend. Although he is a cleric Angru has not shown much skill yet, well perhaps it is because he wears such light armour, I would recommend him something better, I must remember that when I see him next time. But no matter he is great company, always in search of adventure as I am myself, and he seems to know no fear, perhaps he has not yet met his limitation. I think I am getting a little better at finding my own limitations, I have fared very well on my last adventures into the countryside. I guess I am learning.
But I was telling him this old tale of a tree that grows high in the mountains where no man has ever been. It is like an apple tree except that it has gems instead of apples. He did not believe it, but I do not doubt this story the least, but I know I will never see this tree…since I am no warrior and only a teller of tales.

[Meizter]

Today I was hunting giants with a quite large group. Well we hunted Giants in the Berhagen Mountains and what a trip that was. We were beset by them on all sides and still did we prevail. It was most fantastic.
*a passage of text is crossed out*
How can I say this, it weighs quite heavily on my mind. Earlier in day I was with Skarp and Angru and others and we met this girl. She was killing a great cat and was really not being friendly to our druid, who had helped us in the broken forest. Well the matter is that this girl was so pretty, that I did not really care for what she had done. There was a mystery around her, and her words were filled with double meanings.  I have seen her around Hlint before but not given her much thought until tonight. Skarp was a bit hard on me for keeping on speaking to her, but she had done me no harm, and I was captivated by her. I even risked my neck to heal her while we were travelling through the Broken Forest, and Skarp did certainly not approve of that. I’d better forget about her. I should forget about her, my heart belongs to Kolfinna at home, but sometimes that is so far away, and it is like it is another time and place. I have not clung to the values of where Skarp and I come from. That is in some way dishonouring my fathers memory, I am sad to admit this, I have not been a good son. Never do I speak of my past, it is like somehow I am afraid to talk about it, and it is so much easier to speak of the present. That does not bring painful memories of that night, now long ago. But it is not right I should not forget my heritage, but here I am so much more accepted for who I am, and not regarded as less because I have no skills with weapons. Perhaps I should compose a poem of this, of my past, my love and my thoughts, that could perhaps lift the weight of this. But I must not let others see this frailty in me; a minstrel should be fun, merry and good company, and not some gloomy poet.

[Meizter]

I am a WARRIOR. I chased an ogre away today. It attacked me just outside Krandor and I had no armour, only my bow. I fired at the foul beast and soon it ran away fearing my arrows. I know my father would be most impressed with me, now I am no longer his running poet boy, but a warrior poet worthy of being his son. I told Skarp but I am not sure he believed me; in fact I am not sure many believe my story, but it is true. I am now a real man and warrior, and to prove it I have bought myself a new sword. It is as tall as me and I have a hard time swinging it, but I manage. I am so happy; I can’t sit here and write I have to find more people to tell this…

[Meizter]

I have composed a poem in honour of my travels with Bil and Arwinath some time ago. I decided to stay on the title of Strange Company.

Three strangers once did meet,
Few were their words of greet.
For an unlikely company they were,
But it did them not deter.

One was a drow black as night,
For most he did cause much fright.
He had hair as white as snow,
And great skill with his bow.

The other a goblin wizard was,
And never did he pause.
He seemed a merry companion,
And did offer many an explanation.

Last was a human of the north,
He went with the others forth.
He would their unlikely story tell,
His words was like water from a well.

Far from home they went,
For on a mission they were sent.
A pelt for a man they sought,
To the helpless man it had to be brought.

South they travelled fast,
First goblin, drow and human last.
For a safe way the goblin did know,
And with every step their ease did grow.

For no traps had yet been sprung,
And weapons still on shoulders flung.
They started to talk a bit,
As among them a campfire was lit.

Many a word did they speak,
The silence had sprung a leak.
They started to one another trust,
For their mistrust had not been just.

In the morning they carried on,
Spirits high in the early dawn.
Soon they an animal found,
It was a cougar of the ground.

All their might they did use,
And they could thus not lose.
Soon the animal was dead,
Its lifeblood from it fled.

On a often travelled road,
Carrying their precious load.
An ambush was on them sprung,
The smell of ogres heavy hung.

Their weapons were quickly drawn,
To contest the ogres brawn.
For their lives the company did fight,
This threat could not be taken light.

But they did not fare well,
For the ogres did sling a spell.
Soon the human lay dead on the ground,
And no comfort could there be found.

Arwinath the drow fought with skill,
And also did the goblin Bil.
But alas the drow did die,
On the leaves did his body lie.

The fallen had to pray,
For their souls to rest they must lay.
And here the goblin did them help,
For he was indeed not a whelp.

He made them as the wind,
So they their graves could find.
Invisible for the ogres eyes,
They found the place of their demise.

This was a tale of company strange,
For them it a lot did change.
Unlikely friends were made that day,
For from each other they did not sway.

There it is and quite good I think. I hope I see them soon so I can recite it for them.

[Meizter]

Today I recited my poem for Bil and Arwinath as well as a few others, and they liked it. That makes me happy; it is so nice to bring a smile to a persons face. Skarp didn’t like it though, but I would have known, always he complains about my poetry, sometimes I just want to scream at him and his axe. It’s all kill, kill, kill and then we get the gold, why is that the only real way of life, it seems to me that he thinks it is. I fear we have grown apart since we came here, I have dug deeper into my poetry and he still just fights. For just causes he does fight, but still the fight is not really what drives me. I don’t know why this is so hard for me, I am a warrior now, but I spoke with a man called Pax today and he said that one should not be ashamed of being an artist. I do see truth in his words, but it is also nagging me that I then would turn my back on what I come from, and I would indeed be a poor son for my father, watching me from above. I do not know what to do, but I will not tell of this, this will be my secret, mine and mine alone, for who would like to hear a sad poet, no one I am sure. So I will remain the happy carefree Geir, it is for the *the rest of the page is torn away*

[Meizter]

Today a most disturbing thing happened. Brant, Arwinath and myself were talking about our last adventure near the east gate of Hlint when we met this goblin. I think he called himself Skree or Squee or something similar, I am not sure as he was quite hard to understand. Now this in itself was not disturbing, but suddenly Arwinath saw a shadow moving near us. Quickly weapons were drawn and we searched the area. Quickly we found a shadow near the gate, it resembled those I have seen in the Broken Forest, but it did not appear as aggressive. It said that it had been set free from the goblin, and that it was the shadow of the goblin. Then it disappeared. We spoke of this mystery when it appeared again, this time we questioned it and it spoke of a Shadow Master, who had set it free. We agreed that we would need to investigate this further and soon met up with Tharloss and others. Much was debated on the shadow and this Shadow Master, some spoke of a great necromancer, and others of an ancient artefact called the Shades Eye I believe. We saw this shade one more time before it was gone, but it had an ill prediction. It said that soon everyone’s shadow will be free. This is indeed most disturbing, as the shadow in some way is a dark reflection of us, our dark counterpart. This must be investigated further; also perhaps it has ties to the mummy that has been seen. I will stay vigilant.

[Meizter]

I have finished the poem of my past, I hope this will help me in some way, although I am not sure how. But it has been a relief to write it. I do not feel as ashamed of myself as previously, but although an accurate account I do not think it does honour to anyone. It will need to be rewritten perhaps, but for now it is good, and I hope telling this tale will be healing for my spirit which has been torn between the way of the warrior and the way of the poet lately.

This my friends is a tale of woe,
On a night not so long ago.
I saw betrayal and murder cold,
Listen here how the story did unfold.

A feast was there to be held,
Ale and meat on trays swelled.
To feast one man was not inclined,
He was with a woman entwined.

His brother did him find,
He would the man remind.
While he was lying with a thrall,
That this would not do at all.

From the hall screams did sound,
And on doors fist were pound.
For flames did lick on every wall,
And our kin from the hall did crawl.

Our guests with weapons in their hand,
In a flood of blood did they stand.
Anyone who the fire did elude,
Fell victim to this feud.

Men and women alike did die,
Smouldering and bleeding did they lie.
The brothers to the fight did run,
Without weapons and clothes undone.

A single foe did they kill,
But many others were there still.
To escape they had in time,
Their faces covered with grime.

And escape they did that night,
Words of vengeance they did recite.
While their kin lay in the burning hall,
These false men indeed would fall.

To avenge this deed they sought,
With weapons from lovers brought.
They fled their burning home for now,
But to return with vengeance they did wow.

I hope Skarp will approve of this, otherwise I do not know how I can ever do anything that he will approve. I cannot kill like him, I can sing and tell tales, and how can that ever be as lethal as his axe. Here I go again complaining, why am I so troubled by all this, is it really that I am ashamed of who I am. And who am I, a warrior, a poet, a warrior poet, all or none? I do not know but I shall find out, I must find out.

[Meizter]

I have neglected my journal for some time now but finally a calm moment to write something more. It has been exciting days, with new friends and interesting happenings.

I have met a girl called Pandora who is strange. She has small horns on her head and legs which I have never seen the like of, they look like insect legs, surely that must be a curse. I met her when travelling with Rahzon, a new friend of mine who also has a sad history of his own. I did however not ask her about her legs and horns since I would not make her feel awkward, but I have been thinking much of it, and I hope I see her again some time so that we may talk.

I have told both Rahzon and Path of where Skarp and I come from and what happened back home. Actually that turned into quite the discussion on what is right and wrong and honour and tradition and so on. I think Skarp got a little carried away, but I am not sure as I was feeling a bit light-headed from the ale. However it was good to tell the story, it is in some way like sharing the burden, and I think perhaps that will make it easier for me to find myself in some way.

Oh, another thing I must remember. Just a little while back a bunch of us went to see the beholders in the Sword Rust Mountains. Unfortunately there are also enormous earth elementals there and we fought with all our might, but both Noss and I fell in the dungeon, while others fell outside while on the run. We travelled back to the dungeon and met with the survivors in Fort Hope and wanted to rest a bit at the inn. However the inn was deserted and large pools of blood was on the floor. We suspected foul play and investigated but found nothing. This was most strange, perhaps it is the undead from the Broken Forest that has done something or perhaps the shadows, I am not sure, but I hope I will find out. Well Noss and I entered the dungeon and made it safely to our graves because of my invisibility spell, which I have had increasing luck in using. I am indeed getting better at my magic, and I hope this will keep developing. I know I am no mage, but I think I have a knack for it still. Well we went back and searched the inn once more but with no result. Later we met a mage called Xenos I believe who had been attacked by a healer at Port Hampshire, but when we came there we found nothing out of the ordinary and no one had seen anything. We agreed that perhaps it had been a possession, perhaps by some undead creature, but we could not tell for sure. We then hunted in the Broken Forest and the ruins near there, and for once I think I actually made a difference, I even gave the death blow to a werewolf we encountered. I am still a warrior it seems, makes me glad that I can honour my father in that way.

Who am I trying to fool, I am a miserable warrior, and I cannot even pass through the Broken Forest without the need to resort to invisibility. I know I say to people that I am a warrior poet, but I am only a poet I guess. Still I made a difference there in the Forest that day and that is at least some comfort.

[Meizter]

Today I met Pandora again. We were both in Krandor looking for work, and I asked her if we could have a few words. I then asked her about her legs, and if it was a curse, and luckily she was not offended by my questions. It seems someone in her family has struck a deal with a fiend meaning the blood that runs in her veins are partly that of the fiend, if I understood her right. Her legs is something that happened to her after being the sole survivor of a spider attack in the Sielwood, and both she and the Sielwood Witch is looking for a way to restore them. I must admit I feel sad for her; it must be difficult being like that since few would trust one with such looks. I have promised to help her if she needs it; it is the decent thing to do.

[Meizter]

I got a new sword, and not just any sword, but the sword of a giant! I bought it from an elf called Talan, who said he had taken it from a giant near Arabel who had used it as a short sword. It is a most fine iron blade and I am sure it will serve me well. During our bargaining we came to speak of our trades, and I told him that I was a teller of tales. He then asked me to tell a tale he had to others. This was most exciting; I felt that this could be my path to fame. We sat and he told me of dragons and heroes dealing with them. It was an incredible tale, but also a great tragedy for many dwarves had given their life fighting the dragon, a great red called Fisterion. They had been part of a master bluff made by Thordan Ironheart, but unfortunately the dragon had called the bluff, and by that almost vanquishing the entire Stonesmasher Clan. Talan told me that only two survivors were found and that their names were Honor and Faith. I don’t know if that is true, but still it makes the tale even grander. I have promised him to compose an epic poem of this; perhaps I will even make it a ballad. For this he offered me an item of choice from his chests, I was lost for words, never has anyone offered me such great gifts for my tales. I took a beautiful oaken longbow, which already has served me well. I have received little earlier for my stories, but only a few coins, but this magnificent bow is beyond any payment I could have dreamt of.

Later I received word form Rahzon that I was needed in the Grey Peaks, so quickly I began my travel there. I give thanks for my invisibility spell, without that I would not have made it to the others deep inside the mountains. But I made it and found them all waiting for me on top of a cliff. It was good to see so many friendly faces there, Rahzon, Noss, Damien, Daggs that big lump and Marion or Maz as she is called. We ventured deeper into the mountains, but in a valley we met a lot of ogres, and even though we fought with great skill many fell. I myself felt the touch of an ogre on my back and then suddenly everything was black. I woke up in Hlint besides Noss who had also fallen. What happened to me must have been the death magic that Brant has spoken of the ogres in the Peaks possessing. It was a most disturbing experience, and I feel my soul will never quite recover from that. Still the others needed my help out there I was sure so I began my travel back to the peaks, while Noss stayed behind. Again without my magic it would have been impossible, I can fight an ogre or two when I  am fresh and prepared but in that condition I could not fight even a single ogre I am sure, lest the legions of them that are holed up in the Peaks. I met up with the others soon as they had retreated to a nearby cliff to recover. We then tried to get through the valley again, and this time we succeeded and found an ogre chieftain nearby. It was a tough battle but in the end we proved victorious and claimed our prize, the Oil of Vulkas. The return trip was somehow not as difficult, but we had to make sure that everyone came and no one was left behind. Almost at the edge of the peaks we met Noss, and I offered to take him to his grave so he could pray, but he could not climb up there he said. But at least we all made it out. I feel that I really made a difference there, and it was a most wonderful feeling. I healed people, fought with great fury and sang my lungs out, it was refreshing and wonderful, and I felt so alive.

[Meizter]

*what looks to be several verses has been crossed out*
I am having a hard time with this poem. I want to do justice to all involved in the story Talan told me, but I fear that I have not yet found the way to do it so it will have the epic proportions I want it to have.

[Meizter]

I have been thinking a lot about my singing after my trip to the Grey peaks with Rahzon, when I sing in combat my foes quiver before me and my friends fight with great strength and skill. It has made me think of the Skalds that I remember tales of from home. They were truly masters with their voices, and could cause much havoc in combat where they were as fierce as any warrior. I even heard of a true master who could sing with a voice so strong that people hearing it would fall lifeless to the ground. I recall the tale of his death with much clarity for it is indeed a most unlucky tale.

Once Olaf Vígaskáld, as he was called, was attacked by brigands in the woods. Normally he would have slain them but as he was just returning from a great battle he was wounded, and although his wounds had been tended he was still hurting. Olaf took a deep breath and let his voice out with a force and might that would have slain lesser men. The brigands looked puzzled at him but then attacked as if nothing had happened. Olaf stood there for a moment as he saw a bird fall from the sky. Then he felt the pain of a sword being run through him. As he fell to his knees he saw the brigands had no ears, and where ears used to be they had only skin. He reached for his axe, but as his fingers closed around it he felt another sword enter his body from behind. These men were cowards and low men but he could do nothing. Lying there on the ground bleeding and feeling swords piercing his body he realized that these men had been deafened long ago for some foul deed. With his last breath he uttered curse on these men, but they could not hear it as they could not hear the wolves that attacked them that night. Thus ended the life of Olaf Vígaskáld.

It is a sad tale, but I will take heed to it as it shows that although my song is strong it cannot always save me. But then again I am not as strong as Olaf was, nor do I know if I will ever be. Still I hope that perhaps one day I may learn to use my voice like that. I will need to find someone to teach me and that will be difficult since I have never seen a real skald neither at home, here on Mistone or on Rilara. But I will try to find one, someone must know something.

[Meizter]

It has been a day with many happenings today. When I was travelling through Fort Hope I was suddenly engulfed in darkness more thick and dense than any I have ever seen. I met a some who said it was caused by undead in the Silent Watch Mountains, one of them, Hrath had died up there while travelling with a group of adventurers who went to investigate. I offered my assistance, so he could get to his grave to give his soul rest, and we quickly went, in cover of my again useful invisibility spell. People, probably taken from Hope were crucified, impaled and so on in the mountains. It was a most horrible sight and I am not sure I will ever forget that. I have seen much battle, but this is beyond any cruelty I have ever seen. Whatever atrocity did this, I hope it will be destroyed. Anyways when we were at the grave I said that I would go forward deeper into the mountains to investigate, and Hrath agreed to follow me. Soon we met up with a large group of adventurers, but they were indeed not friendly to us, and told us to go back as this was not for us. I was a bit set of by that, why would people refuse help, strange, but I guess they have enough in themselves. I saw the dwarf there who had been harsh on Arwinath some time ago in Fort Llast, although I cannot recall his name. At that time he wanted him to leave and called Arwinath foul and so on, and I stepped up for my friend there, no one should call a friend of mine such things no matter what. Come to think of it I have not seen Arwinath in a long time, I hope he is well. Well anyways we turned back although I was tempted to press on invisibly to them and see for myself what was happening, but I deemed it better to get Hrath safely back to Hope.

We decided to go together all the way back to Hlint, where I met Brant and his beloved Eylianna, who really is very pretty. Unfortunately there was no time to sing my song from him to her for them. They were going topaz mining near the Dire Wood, and I agreed to go with them. Also Rahzon joined us as well as Dyness the bear lady and we were a most enjoyable party I would say. As we passed near Krandor we saw a great light on the heavens over the Silent Watch, and I told the others of my experiences there earlier and we went to investigate. As we entered the mountains we met the adventurers I had encountered and they spoke of dragons of shadow and that they had overcome the treat in the mountains. The dragon must be the one called the Deepening Dark which Talan spoke of. We went back with the others and they were indeed most pleased with themselves, as Brant said they are oh so righteous, and I must agree with him. Anyways we went on to the Topaz mine and along the way we met Brants brother Bor, who also I a friendly fellow. We got a little topaz easily, and then agreed to go mining adventurine near the lost ruins. It seemed I was one of the only one that had been there before so I got the chance to lead the way. All went well there also and we parted later with high spirits. Before we parted Bor told that he had met a lady called Melissa who was, well as he put it, a bit loose, almost like the women at the docks in Point Harbor.

Later I myself met this Melissa, while resting near Hlint. She is beautiful beyond anything I have ever seen. Her hair is red as fire and her voice like a sparkling spring in the mountains. I was so taken by her, and she also seemed to take interest in me. She seems to dislike working for a living, and gets by accepting presents from others. When I met her she was seeking pelts to bring to Johan in Hlint, and had I had the pelts she sought I would have given them to her without hesitation, so greatly was I taken by her. Since I didn’t have the pelts, a cougar and a few bear pelts, I offered my assistance in obtaining them. As we went through the Broken Forest we met Rahzon, Damien and a few others who were hunting undead. Amongst them were a friendly little gnome called Felissimo, who also is a bard like me, although his skill is perhaps not yet as mine. Still he was good, and we have even spoken of making a show together. That would indeed be most grand I am sure. Anyhow, we joined the others and hunted for the pelts, as well as took another trip to the lost ruins. During our travels I noticed how Melissa also flirted with Rahzon and Damien, although Damien was not taken by her, and I am not sure Rahzon was either. However a ranger we met near the High Forest was very keen on helping her, and I think she took a fancy to him. I hate to admit this, but I was a bit jealous at that time. I am normally never jealous of anyone, but this girl somehow hits something within me. I must take my time and think this over. When we finally parted she kissed me, I was so stunned I could not even speak. But perhaps it meant nothing as she also kissed Rahzon in parting. Still I am so stricken with her, this is most troubling as I should only think of Kolfinna at home.

[Meizter]

I have finally finished my poem of Fisterion and the Stonesmasher clan. I think it has turned out very well.

This is a tale of dragons old
Which has been by a hero told
An ancient red to the north does sleep
Fisterion the dragon of Firesteep

Heroes for the dragon sought
Hopes of a bargain they brought
Near Xoras tower they did meet
Each other they did surely greet

One did of a master bluff impart
The Master dwarf Thordan Ironheart
Of this bluff he the others told
As dwarves marched forward bold

Soon the plains were filled
A great camp did they build
Dwarves of every age came to fight
In armours that were shining bright

The dwarves were by Thordan called
The brave Stonesmasher clan of auld
For battle they did themselves prepare
Of the danger they were indeed aware

But if all did go well as hoped
If Fisterion with the story coped
No battle would there be for them
Bad luck would them to battle condemn

As the heroes to the dragon went
Their mind on the task was bent
From the boat they did clearly see
Vorax' banner above the camp so free

One however did have a nagging fear
But still to the plan he did adhere
For dragons have a pride so strong
And Fisterion could see this wrong

To the dwarf Grelian Troff they did go
The smith of legend shelter would bestow
For the dragon would him not fight
For indeed so great is his might

The companions in Troffs house stayed
Except Thordan who to Vorax prayed
His banner he did unroll with care
For the dragon he did himself prepare

The dragons name he called out loud
And soon it came as a moving could
The sky darkened from its shade
But Thordan was not a tad afraid

As Fisterion landed the earth shook
But Thordan calmly at him did look
They spoke things that are to be unsaid
Before Fisterion his wings did spread

The companions left the house
Their guard they did not douse
Then Fisterion returned with a roar
With claws covered in bloody gore

A deal was made there on Firesteep
Where the dragon Fisterion sleep
Tasks must be for him performed
So the heroes bold were informed

Back to safety our heroes went
On a task for the dragon sent
As they sailed back as the raven flies
Smoke dark and foul from the camp did rise

At the camp death they found
Charred bodies strewn around
The grass ashen grey and black
And trees bore marks of an attack

Amongst the dead they sought
Aid to survivors had to be brought
Two they found in dire need of aid
Who told the tale of the price they paid

The dragon had come across the sea
But the brave dwarves did not flee
In ranks they quickly formed for battle
With no idle chat nor needless prattle

They charged the dragon bold
And a great battle did unfold
Two ranks were burnt by the beast
But others charged over the deceased

Axes were swung with great skill
The dragon’s blood they would spill
But as axes hit without a flaw
So did great Fisterions claw

Soon the third rank lay dead
But still none had from battle fled
Blood and gore covered the field
The fate of the dwarves were sealed

Even women and youngster fought
To avenge their husbands they sought
But alas the bravery was all in vain
For they also found in death much pain

This is the story the survivors told
And much of honour and bravery it hold
The survivors we remember must
Faith and Honour their names are just

But still the dwarves were brave
And still today above their grave
The banner of Vorax flies high and bold
And the field their stories still hold

For the dragon called the bluff
And even dwarven might was not enough
The Stonesmasher clan will always be
Heroes who in the face of death did not flee

I can’t wait to hear what Talan thinks of it.