The chronicles of Daeron Stormcloud

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Journal

It has been a week since I entered this world using the last charge of Arto's magic item. So far the people have been very friendly, although many of them are very peculiar indeed. It feels good to be in the company of humans again. My decade of exile has left my skills in, as they call it, "light talk" a little hampered.

It feels good though, to finally be able to use my magic in an offensive manner instead of using it to keep me save and away from monsters. I do have trouble however to put it to good use when fighting along with the many fighters that live in Hlint. They show a great understanding of battletactics, something I'm yet not very familiar with.

I met some interesting people already. The most peculiar one was a goblin, some of them appear to be tolerated by the townfolk. His name is Vorkresh and was quite interested in magic. I don't know whether the goblin will ever succeed in mastering magic, but he does appear to be smarter then most of his kind.He also made quite a charming travelcompanion. Is disturbs me somewhat that after a decade I find it easier to make contact with a goblin then with a human. I don't know whether this is something I'll have to accept for what it is or something that will pass in time.

The only humans I made a little contact with are a rogue, named Ra'vair and a man called Anault. Anault strikes me as an odd fellow, he refuses to remove his helmet so I'm not sure what he really is. He does seem to combine the art of magic with the art of the sword, a very talented man indeed. I hope to explore some of the region in the future. Untill now my only venture out of the town has been in the goblincave.

I know one thing for sure, I cannot survive in the wild without help, so I shall have to accept it whenever it is offered.

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Journal

I finally took the opportunity to seem a bit more of the country. I joined with a group of adventurers who wanted to make an excursion in the wilds. If I had known how dangerous this would have been, I might have remanined in Hlint. The profit, 500 gold pieces, was actually quite nice. I've been almost out of money ever since I arrived in Hlint.

I have seen several sites of the continent. The Broken Forest, where we were beset by ogres, was horrible. Why must here be so many trees here. Danger lurks in every shadow and in a forest at night, there is a lot of shadow in a forest.  I also had the chance of visting Port Hampshire. I was amazed by its beauty, filled with fountains as it is. The only dissapointment of the town seems an infestation with rats, very big rats.

I don't think such a town is something where I would want to settle. I did hear of a little village called Far Reach. It is supposed to be a quite peaceful, little village. Maybe I will go there one day and maybe even stay. I don't like the noises of the city and I was quite startled by the way some people dress. Especially female elves have an apparent tendency to show more then they cover. I find this the result of a large lack of taste on their behalf. These female elves act all superior to the other races, talking in their own tongue in a group of multiple races, but they act more like lady's of ill repute.

Nay, I think it is better to limit my dealings with these elves to the minimum.

Also, I have heard of a goddess of magic in this world. Lucinda she is called, a priest told me the dogma of the church. I am amazed how much I find my own viewpoints on the use of magic in this dogma. I have yet no clue where I am to find a church of Lucinda. Were I to find it I would definately try to establish a relationship with the church.

Maby they have the knowledge about planar travel. They just might agree to help me get home.....

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Journal

It's been a while since I wrote my experiences down. I must not forget this to often since my memory isn't my strongest point. It seems to get even worse lately, probably because of my current lifestyle.When I'm not renting a rooom in the Wild Surge inn I'm sleeping in the outdoors and I live of meager rations and water, with of course the occasional glass of wine when my purse allows it. This shouldn't surprise me when one thinks about it. I've slept in the most inhospitable places during my wandering, but on this world it gets rather wet during the night. I often wake up with my robes completely soaked, so praise to Lucinade for my spells to beat the cold. I have been focussing lately of obtaining an own place for me to rest. Nothing grand off course, something in a village like Far Reach, where nothing ever happens. The houses there are rumored to be quite cheap.

At least, I hope they are cheap, I've been ridiculously low on money lately and I can't afford much.

I have been rather busy of late and met a lot of friends, old and new. Last week I ventured in the crypts from Krandor with my friend Ra'Vair. A little girl had asked me to retrieve her grandfather's ashes, because there were skeltons down there. I ignored the part in which she said the skeletons were covered in flames, foolish me. I now indeed realize that we were complete fools to even try, but after our sixth attempt we reached the second level. One can understand our reaction when we found this level filled with flaming skeletons. It's been a long while since I ran so fast. I'm sure that the same thing goes for Ra'Vair.

On a more lighter note, I met a brownie. I never met one before and was surprised by its length or better put, lack of it. His name is Karyth and he showed quite some talent in riding my familiar, Arto. Arto, my dear raven, has been rather grumpy of late, and has made an effort to peck little people whenever he sees them. I'm afraid there is a connection between the two. The brownie delights in "tricking" his opponents as he calls it. He surely is a merry companion, although maybe a bit to faerielike in nature.

Furthermore, I have been unable to establish a relationship with the church of Lucinda thuss far. However, I did meet a fellow wizard, called Malandaar Sagebrook, I find that I share a lot of viewpoints with him and I hope to speak with him more often. These arcane guilds I've been hearing about don't attract me at all. Their viewpoints are mostly born of ignorance. However, if joining gives me access to more magic knowledge, I just might consider it.

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Journal

I don't know exactly how to write this down. The best way to begin is I guess with the memory hall. I and some other adventurers were trying to cure what we fought was, a plague. The symptoms were sleeping and never waking up, after which a powerfull memory raises from the body and attacked everyone in plain side. We followed the trail of the plague to the Xeenite temple in Karthy. There we found the source, a device that would allow one to experience stored memories. It appeared to be malfunctioning and I still don't exactly know how we solved the problem. To determine its use I, Reventage, Sin'Dolin and Harg volunteered to use the machine and solve the problem.

Before we solved it, a long story which I won't tell because of the inherent incomprehensibility, we learned that when experiencing a memory, one of our own was taken as well. We therefore decided to open the conduit to release the memories. The problem is that we don't know where they have gone and it pains me that I don't even know what memory I lost. We learned that there are similar places, Radiance and Nightmare. If I want to find my memory again, I will have to look there I think. I know one thing for sure, I'll be needing the help of those who share my problem.

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Journal

I have lately begun to actively solve my money problem. I discovered that I'm not suited to be a merchant. Ra'Vair asked me to consider forming a guild, but I'm still doubtful. As they say, the idea has its good and bad sides.
But how can I charge money for an item that I don't even need. I find it much more satisfactory to see them distributed to the non-magic folk of Mistone. Maybe I will change my mind on this some day. I have to be able to make a basic living off course. Another problem is that there is only one other way of making money as I see possible. And that is taking it from the monstrous humanoids of Mistone. It pains me to have to shed blood for something as irrelevant as wealth, but in my defense I can say that most of the gold of these creatures was obtained by their killing of traveling merchants and other people.

My goal for now is to obtain more money to secure my own little private home. In Far Reach preferably, the name has a nice tone to it.

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Journal

By the mother of spells, it seems that even on this world one can not hide from devils. A couple of days ago I was drawn to a pillar of fire, as were some other adventurers including the mage Wintergaard, a rather old crone, but quite adept at the art. We were presented an offer by a pit fiend called Deathflare, where do they come up with the names I wonder. Even dwarves are more creative with choosing their names.

Suffice it to say that we were charged with obtaining a magic item, that could make one evil creature fall in love with another evil creature. I have great doubt whether this love is anything like goodly people know. Deathflare would use it on a marilith of the abbyss, a general of a great army. This marilith had ambitions to invade Mistone with that army, so we were forced to help Deathflare.

The item, a rose, appeared to be the phylactery of a lich that lived under the Beliar hills. I was given a magic wand that could be used to open a portal to his hideout. We managed to acquire the rose with only one casualty, J'ser, but by the grace of the magic in this land, he was returned to us. We forced the fiend to sign a contract forcing him to legally bind him to never using his power, his own and that he controls, directly or indrectly, on the world of Layonara.

With the threat of the marilith removed, I wonder how the 'loving' couple is, I realized that it had been a most profitable venture. I got 2300 gold pieces and I kept the wand, a very usefull magic item.

Dealing with devils, I'm getting good at it.

[Filatus]

Journal

It's been to long since I wrote something down, to long perhaps. The best way to start is at the beginning I guess. The good news is I have my memory back, a rather good one I must say. The memory was of my times with Arto Gatebinder, my late mentor, may his soul find a suitable home and rest in peace. Elysium, plane of beauty and delight, it was there that I heard the song of the phoenix. I shall never again forget that ghostly yet beautiful song. Obtaining the memory proved to be not without its dangers. But in the end we managed to retrieve everyone's memory's and close Radiance, the second chamber of Xeen. The only downside of it is that I had hoped that it would cure Reventage' social skills. I'm regret to inform here that Memory had no part in that. Apparently she's always grumpy.

Lately we have begun a campaign against the final chamber, Nightmare the most foreboding of all. We have not yet managed to enter it because we need some components for Violet, so she can safely get us there. We obtained the first, in the process almost freeing a lich and hordes of vampires from their crypt. We managed to flee the crypt, chased on our heels by a balor prince and a red dragon. But in the end all was well, fortunately.

I have met several new people it these months. Geir Sigurdson, a bard, Skarp-Heiden Sigurdson, his brother and babarian are the most colurful of those I met, when not including Mei Sato of course. With them and of course the ranger Jacchri we made several trips into the mines.
It has been great pleasure to see Mei pursue her study of the martial arts with such fervor. I'm happy to be able to say that I as well have increased greatly in the knowledge of the art. I guess some of her discipline has rubbed off on me.
When I think about it, there are a lot of people I met. Vindel, drow wizard, whose practical nature is similar to my own. Nex Wintergaard, who shares my love of raining down destruction on our foes from a distance, without meatshields interfering.

The halfgiants of Hlint deserve a seperate paragraph. I'm amazed in how I enjoy their company. They're so delightful simple in nature. And much more practical than using an ox, by the way. Glokk Battlecry recently had offered his service for heavy labour. Something I'm entirely not qualified for. He made a welcome addition in my latest mining expedition.

On a final note, I have revised my opinion on joining a guild. Lately I was pointed to the advantages of the Arcane Alliance by one of its members. His name was Taislin Woolhands, a perky chap with a bright eye, especially for a halfing. I have made contact with the Grand Magus of the Arcane Alliance and after a brief correspondence with the Grand Magus Tahtnolu, I finally submitted my application for membership. I think this will give me greater acces to materials and spells and most of all, I'll be studying the planes.

There is of course a pesky thing called hierarchy, but I'm sure I can deal with that.

[Filatus]

Journal

It has been long simce I wrote anything down, so I hope I haven't forgot anything important. I remember the most important things of course, but forgetting the 'little' facts can in time lead to anoying surprises.

First of all, we have dealt those blasted Xeenites the crippeling stroke. After much toil and hardship, a lot of that caused by the lich that we apparently freed in our attempt to obtain the veil, we managed to enter Nightmare. We found out that Nightmare was hidden somewhere among the planes, but on Dregar we found a direct conduit to Radiance, which we could use to travel to this dreamstate.

I will not say much about the choices we faced near the end, only that each had its merits and its evils. Eventually I came to a solution which was the best of all I think. At least the others agreed with that.

On that note... I should be careful when sleeping, there is no telling what kind of Xeenite visions we unleashed upon the dreamworld.

Still, I can rest without any load on my shoulders, it was the best of choices....

...and even better, I might just have shared a bit of my own dreams with the rest of the world.

[Filatus]

Journal

Curses, how do I manage to keep getting intertwined in trouble. Together with some other friends, Skarp, Geir, Jaccri and Xiao I have taken on the responsibility to prevend Mistone from being overrun by an orcish horde. I can not say much in this journal, for fear of it falling in the wrong hands.

I can say, that we will be travelling to Karthy this very week. We have obtained the spellbook... a task that took us all the way to Roldez and into the arms of a Pyrtechonite cult. I still have a heavy heart in putting my trust in this mad wizard.

But still, I could walk away from it all and be safe knowing that others will be there to safe Mistone and maybe not even caring about it. But what if these others are my friends. For now, I found trust in a few individuals. Strange, I always viewed my self as a man of practical nature. But I find myself running to battle, for I refuse to see them fight alone. I have always been a survivor, so this is strange for me. I have managed to keep my independence untill now, but I feel it slipping.

I haven't known any friendship during my exile, and for the most part only nightmares remind me off that time. Even the time with Arto wasn't the same, surely he was a fatherfigure, a mentor and a friend, but he was alone in this. And of all people I lost him, he prefered leaving me and dying for a cause he didn't know, over remaining at my side.

No, not just leaving me.. condemning me.

Also, there was a moment I began growing feelings for Mei... The first time I write this down, but alas I haven't seen her for many months. Hurt yet again, all who I trust are taken away from my life. Arto, Mei... and maybe Geir.

Geir came to me earlier, saying he din't expect to live long. I managed to point him to several personal traits that are a part of.. him dying. But he would have none of it, prefering to die living the life as he wants over living as a shadow of the man he is. Skarps wants to hear nothing of it, being a proud barbarian of his people.

My only hope is to be careful in friendship, for I WILL NOT suffer torment again, as I have.

Putting trust in illusions...

[Filatus]

Journal

Recently I received a letter from Skarp and Geir concerning the family feud that haunts their past. They have asked a few people to join them on their journey back to their homeland, Krashin. Of course I gladly offered my aid in their plight. But earlier today I met Geir and he had a lot more to say then was written in the letter. Based on some dream Skarp had, Geir believed we could be dealing with a fiendish creature, which was said to be banished long ago, but returned.

I do not know how much credit I must give to the meaning of Skarp's dream. Lately it seems both brothers let the fears in their minds rule too much of their thoughts. But still, no harm in being prepared. It might be necessary to catch up on my infernal, since I haven't spoken it for a long while. On that thought, most of the times when dealing with planars they were tanar'ri, unfortunately. These abominations of the abbyss seem to polute even this world with their presence. Although I loathe having to speak their foul tongue it might help me in dealing with them in the future. Naturally Geir used the word fiend, but for all I know he could be talking about Slaadi.

It might be wise to do some research in their tongue. I'm not yet sure what the best source would be. The elves of the Great Library might frown upon it, but I'm sure they have books containing the necessary lore. And if that would not prove the case, I could always bind an imp and command him to teach me the language. Clearly, I prefer the first in favour of the latter.

Yet, if I succeed I'll know that if I ever again stumble on some kind of planar creature, I'll be prepared.

[Filatus]

Journal  *this part of the journal has been aggresively written down. Punctures in the paper where the point of the feather was pressed through are numerous. The page is filled with spats of ink*  The soulmother... I was beginning to think I was free from her touch since I still don't call this world my home. I was starting to feel untouchable, but I guess I was wrong and what a great folly it was. I always wondered how Geir knows or thinks, he is so close to his final rest, now I know. And knowing it brings me no peace.  And the irony of it all, to forget casting invisibility. Good old Daeron.. gathering honey on Pranzis with his back turned to a young drake only 6 feet away. I have been a fool, an incredible fool. I can already imagine the script on my grave stone.   "Here lies Daeron "Stormcloud" Mendt, who adviced other people not to put their faith too much in the bindstones, but alas did not heed his own advice in his own daily life."  Or..  "Died while gathering honey, he never thought it would taste that bitter."  I can still feel the icy sting of the dragon's breath, it torments my mind for I should have been dead that day. No friends around, not Harg or Rolf to return my soul to my body from whatever place I'm destined to go.   What am I to do, I know of no ways to retrieve what I lost, like I did when I lost my memory. But still, I can not get this out of my mind. Scribbling on does not help for I see no answer to my plight. But what else am I to do, I always thought that for very problem there is a solution. If there is any, I do not see it.  I will return to Mistone, that I do know. How I would want to throw myself of a cliff into a bottomless abbyss. How, after all the torment I endured, could I have become so careless with my own life? I have warned others about it, but still I could not see my own weakness.  I will leave for Mistone as soon as possible, I can not stay here anymore. In trying to forget my own sorrows I aided a dwarf called Volrod to return to the place he died, to regain his soul and I returned to Pranzis with Path and him. I had found a bit of peace of mind during that journey. But does fate grant me time for grievance? Apparently not, for to make matters worse, Rashar saw me in Pranzis that same day when I was grieving over my loss. He called me an orc and would not believe I was Daeron. I did not have the energy to stand up to him, so I fled out of town to the forest of Mists.   The irony of it all, he practically accused me of murdering myself and taking my staff. I do not blame him though, this shell that I used to call my body is becoming another torment, more prison than body. I jest about it when in company of others, but I tire of it. I want to be myself again. Not having to flee every town when someone can not see beyond the shape I wear.  And here I am, wrapped in my cloak scribbling in my journal with barely any light. For I fear to attract the creatures that lurk here. Just one thing left for me to do on Pranzis before I leave and that is to kill that blasted drake.   Not just kill, I will destroy him. For I will not allow his continued existence to haunt my thoughts in the future.    Addendum: Blasted wyrm killed me again, I can´t believe how close I was to killing him myself. The Soulmother left me alone this time, but I´ll be back for the blasted wyrm, I swear. Unfortunately the bindstone in Saudiria drew me away. I am too far away now, so at present I will return for Mistone.  I hope that wyrm realizes I still live and will live in fear of the knowledge I´ll return one day.

[Filatus]

Trials and tribulations  Daeron sits at his desk in his rented room in the Leilon Arms inn. His room is littered with empty bottles, but they still give off the scent of the wine that they were once filled with. The residual wine in the bottles gone bad, spreads a scent of vinegar. The aroma is mixed with the smoke of Daeron's old hickory pipe, filled with Green Dragon's Envy, which has resulted in an odour clinging to the room that would not be misplaced on a dwarven miner after a day's hard work.  Through the door can be heard merry music and laughter from the common room.  Wearily Daeron activates a lightgem on his desk. The light illuminates his tired face, long due for a shave. He opens his journal accidentaly knocking over his glass of wine.  Daeron mutters: "Typical.. am I to become entirely incompetent!"  He bites hard on his pipe inhaling deeply while throwing a silk cloth over the places the wine got spilled on.  "Now where is that blasted quill?"  He reaches over his desk, finding his quill behind a stack of volumes at the end of his desk. Dropping back in his chair with a sigh, he starts to write in his journal  My bad luck seems to have taken the boat trip from Dregar to Mistone with me. Granted, I no longer walk in that disgusting orcshell, but alas it has not ended with that. I still feel traces within me, traces I know weren't there before. The changing left me with a stronger body, but the effect on my mind is showing. I have not the power of will I once had. I would say it's still formidable, compared to common men, but I know it has lessened. I shall have to work on it, to regain what I have lost.  It was a close call for me, I could have been stuck in the orcform forever. Enraged by the battles in the swamps killing troll after troll, the party got split up on our way to the druid that could turn us back. In Wolfswood I ended up fighting giants with only my staff, and liking it. When the party finally found each other and the home of the druid this rage had not left me. One word from Varka and I ended up shouting in her very home. The druid Raven even threw me out of her home, for what? An argument in rage? Have I not given enough to the people of Mistone to expect a little understanding? Did I not willingly let myself be transformed into an orc for their petty sake?  I ended up sitting between the roots of a tree calming down and thinking. What I thought troubled me a bit at the time, more greatly now. What if the druid would refuse to aid me and turn me back? Would I remain an orc, or would I find different means? The wizard Algaron although mad, was pretty clear on the matter. All it required a human corpse to be changed back. I am glad I was soon called back by Skarp. telling me I was allowed back in. For I do not think I could be sure, what I would have chosen at that time, with my orcish nature controlling most of my thoughts and emotions.  But I guess such contemplation is entirely irrelevant at this time. Events unfolded as they did and I guess in that respect I should count myself lucky. Still, only recently have I begun putting past troubles in a new perspective. I'm not the "perfect" mage I thought I was, that I have learned the hard way.  Since a few months Skarp has gotten into calling me "a bit foolish sometimes". I considered it to be a bit of good sport, the type we always have. But lately I have begun to see more truth in those words then I would have liked.  I guess most of it I learned in the search for Morninglight. I dare not write too much in this journal about it, in fear of it falling into the wrong hands. However incompetent I might have become, I still take my responsibilities quite serious.   It is just the company I travelled with, particulary Eldárwen. That woman drives me absolute and utterly insane, like no abyss-spawned succubus could have done, or has. At the start of our travels I deemed her a refreshing companion. I was hoping to get to know a bit more about the Lucindite faith, or more about the thoughts of the Lady. But for the most part I found myself constantly in a competition with her for whatever insignificant matter.   I have found myself getting into disputes I did not intent to start, insult her when I all I wanted was to be honest and amuse her when I was trying to be serious. For the love of the Lady, sometimes I just feel I do not have the energy to compete with her. Lucinda has made it apparent she favours her clergy over mages. I could never hope to achieve a relation with the Lady, like the one Eldárwen has. It is not that I do not admire her, she carries herself with a level of confidence I've never seen before. I might have appeared as confident to friends, but I realize now it was mostly rooted in my own arrogance. I do not seek Eldárwen's blame in any of this.   Doubts, I always have them and I always will have them. The number of them even seems to grow over time. But as for now I have decided that to be sure of myself, I should know the road I'm walking. In the grove our path for the oathed was shown. At least that path for me is clear, but the greater path in my life is still unclear. And I realise now that it always was so.   Daeron takes a pause from writing and sits upright.  "Maybe it's for the better", he mutters to himself. "After all, did I not almost lead the party to whatever horrible faith could have awaited us, back in the Firesteepcaves. In my arrogance I was so sure of myself, thinking I'd show them the way. If not for Eldárwen, things might have went completely wrong."   Daeron ends this entry in his journal with a final note.  Best I can do right now is focus on the task at hand. Maybe just by choosing this shorter path the greater road may yet again become clear to me.   Concerning tis shorter path; if one thinks about it, it seems fitting that I got the task I got. After all, before we left, I literally said: "Please let it not be the gnome."  The logic of my bad luck dictates that there could of course be only one outcome......  ... babysitting a gnome.  Not that I truely mind the task, I'm just afraid that too much dealing with that fasttalking race might addle my wits even more.  Note to self, do not forget to donate something to Deliar. I can use all the luck I can get.

[Filatus]

Journal entry: Life's sweet surprises

It has again been too long since I last wrote something down. Certainly with all the good things that have been happening of late. On that note, I should read my own writings a bit more often. If I don't, how can I remind myself to keep up my journal by writing it here? I hope I'll find myself taking the time to read this. A bit of a paradox as it were.

A lot of things have happened of late, where shall I start? Maybe with my fondest memory, unlocking the Derrobarrad stones. No, this is a memory I will hold with me forever, magic in its most beautiful form. The most important things first, becoming affirmed to the faith, the forming of the Bloody Hand and joining the Raven Trade Company. These will do for now.

Affirmed

Ever since the Derrobarrad plagues I have been questioning my relationship to Lucinda. I never came to an answer, until one day a messengerbird showed up. The bird brought an invitation for the Rites of Affirmation. It all made sense from that moment. My debates with Eldárwen always ended up with me feeling doubtful about who had the better knowledge of the weave.

I assumed that by getting closer to Lucinda, I would get to understand the weave better. I realise now those thoughts were foolish, but I take this as a sign that I have learned. Becoming Affirmed proofed not that easy. Only days before the Rites I still needed to find a sponsor. I spoke to Storold about it and he seemed happy in my decision to become affirmed. The protector is beginning to find his ways on his new path. It's a pity that goes hand in hand with showing more typical paladin nonsense, but I guess that's the result of the disciplined training.

Anyway, I first tried to seek out Tia to sponsor me, no reason to ask Eldárwen for aid. Of course Tia didn't have the time to discuss my sponsorship in full, which of course resulted in me having to travel all the way to Lorindar to seek sponsorship from Eld. A bitter twist at first, but I no longer regret it.

We had a long discussion about the weave and Lucinda, with on the background the giggling of Acacea and Triba. Despite the constant interruptions of the two halflings things were becoming clearer to me. Instead of what I always believed, Lucinda doesn't hold as close a relationship to her clergy as I thought at first. We came to discuss the nature of ‘faith’ and now when I think about it, I laugh about me not realising why people call it faith. It came down to me at the end, was I willing to put my trust in the hands of the faith. All it seemed to require was… faith. At that point right before I made it clear I wanted to become affirmed and to serve Lucinda, my stomach turned and my hart was racing. I realised at that point what it entails. And I'm glad Eldárwen agreed to sponsor me in the end. I must have said something she liked, between all the things she didn't like.

About the Rites it self I can say very little. The test seemed a bit odd. Two choices were given and each had its virtues. I guess the test was about one's reasoning behind the choice.

Must be, since I really have no idea what chickens have to do with any of it.

At the end the Warder found me worthy, a lot of people were affirmed that day so she must have been in a good mood anyway. A mage called Sago I believe, offered me a set of robes in the colours of the faith. I was pleased with that since my red robes rather classed with the blue of every other participant. I now keep them always with them, although I was glad when I wore my own robes again. Blue is just not my colour.

For now things are calm in the church, except of course for  an incident in the tower. Apparently the Caller of Forms, Elbereth Ancilamon has been removed from office. Something to do with suspicions about criminal dealings. I heard that Meliphazei was the former Caller of Forms. I wonder whether we will see a Hiliaraname at high posts in the Tower and in the Church, with Eldárwen becoming Threadmistress.


The Bloody Hand

I was send a letter by Skarp one day, an invitation for some hunting on Dregar. Apparently they were planning to do this on a regular basis. But it took a while before I learned the reason behind this regularity. Varka, Geir, Skarp, Rolf, Abi, Fenrir and Angela had formed an adventuringgroup called “The Bloody Hand”. The name derives from the false identity we took, while infiltrating the orcish horde led by the Red Raven. I was asked to join them, at which I of course told them I would be happy to join them. I have been through so much with the Sigurdson brothers and Rolf and Varka that I'd probably would follow them everywhere.

We've since then been on several ventures, Rashar has joined the group during those ventures. I've travelled a few times with him now and I think I'm beginning to understand him. Yet, the more I understand him, the more I pity him in a way and envy him at the same time. He is a man with a large black hole inside. There is not enough blood on this world to be spilled, to fill that black hole and make him find piece with the death of his family. Still, he has a goal in life, no doubts and he will keep following that path until peace or death catches up with him. I wonder how it would be like, to have such a clear path in life.

The Raven Trade Company

Lately I have joined this company, originally started by my Krashin friends. The invitation came unlooked for, but certainly not unwanted. I had been doubting of late whether I was working up to my full potential. Yes, I can craft, but can I sell? The answer is a definite ‘no’, I'm not cut out for the bartering. Katrien Hommel had at a night at the Arms approached after some bartering. She offered to sell my goods for a percentage. I was honestly interested in her offer, but then the letter from Geir came. It would have been foolish to turn the offer down.

There has been only one downside and that is that Rolf has planned my future to be wasted away behind a scribing station.

Next to this I hope the Alliance will agree with me taking my skills outside the tower. The tower is now almost ready, so things will undoubtedly pick up pace.  I'm sure there will some frowning from the council at the least about my part in the Raven Trade, but I'm sure I will be able to work things out.

The Taislin Dilemma

It is with reluctant hand that I write the following down. Rolf approached me a few days ago about my former apprentice, Taislin Woolhands, also member of the Alliance. Apparently the dimwit has desecrated a shrine of Mist. I do not know why he would do such a thing, but Rolf looked like he would tear Taislin up in pieces, were he to stand in front of him that moment. Rolf is planning on a huntingparty to capture Taislin, which brings me in a dilemma. For he approached me as well. I hope wholeheartedly that this can be settled peacefully. Otherwise I might find myself having to choose between the Alliance and my friendship with Rolf. I can't just ignore my responisbility for Taislin as well. I failed to teach the boy anything, so part of this is my fault as well.

I do know that the Alliance will not be eager to hand over one of their members to the church of Mist. Let's just hope it doesn't come to that. It's fortunate that Taislin didn't come to me for aid, I wouldn't want to be the one standing between Taislin and Rolf in his full fury with the Tempest at his back.

[Filatus]

In a dark room barely lit by a few candles Daeron sits behind his desk. Opening his journal he rereads his last entry and sighs.

"How things have changed in the last years. Blood defeated, taking part in it by fighting at the Well, you'd think I should be happy. Life has brought many a cruel twist of fate it seems."

Dipping his quill in the ink he starts writing several time, each time ending with ripping the page out of his journal.

"So much has happened, but it all seems so small compared to Abi's death. Why did she give up?"

With a sigh Daeron closes his journal putting the quill away. Blowing out the candles he walks to his old comfy chair in a dark corner of his study, shielded from the moonlight penetrating the windows. There he remains sitting all through the night, eyes open staring in the dark. Remembering his friends of old, bound by blood to some, by sheer friendship, trust and perhaps... yes, perhaps love to some. Face after face comes into view in his mind, troubles and joy shared. Now all gone, just memories.

He whispers in the dark.. to noone in particular, if not to himself to break the silence.

"Have you lost more friends now than are remaining? How long will it take, a few more years perhaps and you shall be alone again."

The eerie silence returns, a sudden thought grows on Daeron's mind. A thought he had held often over the years, always dismissing it. It seems to make more sense than ever before, it lingered in his mind for a while. Then weak rays of the morningsun fell, through a gap between the curtains, dispelling the darkness the had gazed at for so long. A temporary gap in the ashes perhaps, caused by swirling winds high above.

With a deep sigh he gets up walking to the window and opens the curtains. As quick as it came the sun had dissapeared again. Staring out of the window he finds nothing but darkness so early in the morning. A foreboding sight it might be, but deep down he knows that the sun is rising, be it behind clouds of ashes and dust or not, it's there.

"Still there is hope left, a few friends remaining. I guess I'll stick around."