Abducted Arcanist

As the divine Narnisu dream ended with what felt like my flesh being melted off, I felt a weight on my chest. Lo -- it was the wizard Avindir's cat! How strange; the cat normally stays with the arcanist. Such an adorable creature too, but unsettling a bit. One might call me crazy, but this cat has seemed surprisingly casual in the face of dangers past.
 
The cat urgently tried to get my attention. It seemed almost ... intelligent in its insistence. I've heard stories of wizards binding spirits to beasts and conjuring familiars to see and act through. I don't really know how that works, if it's true, and if the cat is one. They could just be a very well behaved cat! None the less, the cat wanted to take me somewhere. I told the little friend to wait a moment as I slipped on some clothes.
 
The cat lured me to the study where I last saw Avindir working on some spellcraft or magicworks or arcantasks or whatever he would call it. To my horror, the study was in disarray and chaos. Papers were scattered, furniture askew, and there was the distinct sign of a fight. I am quite accustomed to the looks of a messy room after a fight, after all. I did a quick survey of the damage, then decided that my fellow vanguards need to participate in this.
 
I spoke to the cat, taught it how to swipe with ferocity in case anyone arrives to disturb the scene, and left to gather my cohorts. I hurried to Makaan and assertively knocked at the door. He was quite responsive to my confident knock and proceeded to get dressed after I offered a summary of the events as I knew them. I then scampered to Calliope and likewise recruited her to meet me at the study.
 
When they arrived (fully armed, armored, and about ten or so minutes after I left them), we proceeded to search for more clues. We interrogated the cat (apparently it can conjure spells and is a sorcerous cat?) using sign language. I admit, I was inspired by the gesture-speak of my people. Not all of our people can communicate freely without the vulgar tongue or their personal song, after all. While we asked for some clarity, Calliope performed some sort of ritual and found a mote of magic under the bookshelf, which imbued her with memories.
 
According to Calliope, Avindir was abducted in the night. There were multiple kidnappers (one of large frame, one of slight), one was named Holgwyn (the fast, slight person). Avindir had no battle-honed senses and didn't reflexively fight back. Poor man.
 
We asked around the keep with guile and subtlety. In the end, a few witnesses (including a particularly helpful scullery maid) told us a tale. They noticed two figures, a large and small human or half elf or whatnot carrying a supposedly drunk Avindir out of the keep. The maid, who previously worked with Avindir in the kitchens, was suspicious and followed them to the old tunnel where rats bit me. She was beaten unconscious there, but was on the mend. We proceeded to the tunnel, followed there tracks northwest, and saw that they fled in the direction of the Forefather mountains.
 
Calliope bought two draft horses, Makaan bought a wagon, and I bought feed and animal supplies. Equipped, we pursued.
 
We knew not the name of the cat, so we called them Kipi.
 
------
 
We definitely felt the lack of Avindir's support on this trip. Our food was lackluster, our supplies and camp less managed. Makaan strived to cover Avindir's absence, but we definitey felt it.
 
I did what I could to find threats and identify their danger for us to avoid while we still kept on their trail. We headed north towards the foothills and found a menhir of granite and over fifty feet tall. It appeared to be banded in writing and marked the furthest south the former state of Scorland reached. Nearby, we found a tomb recessed in the hillside and paid our respects to the shepherd who was laid to rest.
 
That evening, I offered to massage my cohorts to help heal the stresses of our missing comrade and the travel therein. It turns out my growing medicinal soul was truly a relaxing sensation for them.
 
------
 
When we awoke, we were covered in dew. We're in early summer, but the chill of the north was present. Breakfast was meager, but our thoughts were ahead to Avindir. The more we traveled, the more we felt our sight hardened towards those who took him.
 
We followed the tracks to a ruined structure of unknown origin. Rather than sending me in to scout first, the vanguard elected to move in as a unit. What a tumultuous disaster their approach was. We were readily detected and we saw a dwarf, a dragonfolk, a human, a wood-elf, and a half elf. They seemed rather insistent that Avindir, who was not looking great at all (a few scrapes and bumps, to say the least). Makaan was practically boiling over with indignation fury.
 
There was an admittingly pitiful attempt at diplomacy between the dwarf and Makaan. When the dwarf ignited his eyes in magical intent, I knew from my crest to my tailfeathers that a fight has ignited. I lept forward struck the dwarf a few times to test his defenses, and draw his attention towards me and away from the rest of the vanguard. Little did I know that Makaan's "growth" he mentioned earlier was not an idle thought. Before my eyes, I saw him slam his hammer down upon the dwarf with a gut-churning crunch. When I looked up, I saw Makaan grown to over a dozen feet of raging mass.
 
I left Makaan to handle the elven archer, Calliope to handle the two goons, and I would chase the retreating dragonfolk who was taking Avindir. I tried to scare him, but I was still in my wooly, cozy, mother-made poncho. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a javelin thrown by Makaan pierce the elf, who proceeded to be ignited in giant-fire. While distracted, the dragonfolk left Avindir and tried a leap across the wall. The poor fool tripped instead, so I pursued and struck him to unconsciousness and lugged him back to the group.
 
It turns out that we made swift work of Avindir's abductors and proceeded to collect what we learned.
 
There was some sort of dragon cipher or puzzle or some such nonsense that Avindir was key to solving. We interrupted the process, defeated them, and took Avindir back. While he was resting, I found a ring in the trussed up dragonfolk's pocket. While the crew began their sorceries, I performed prayers and rites to the fallen enemy. In my privacy, I prayed to Thuses for the dead, Garagnos for the dwarf, and Citeus for the burned elf.
 
My piety seemed to be true, for I found an omen of Thuses' presence through a heavens raven in a nearby tree. Bowing as one does to a messenger divine, I felt quite reassured. By now, the It was enchanted with mystical things unknown, until Avindir identified it as a ring that summoned forth a book bound with some sort of dragon soul or essence. Disturbed, I removed myself from the group to ponder the implications of such necromancy. Like magic that muddles or shapes a mind, necromancy that binds or harms a soul is considered a foul magic amongst my people and taboo to practice.
 
We discussed the philosophical implications of magic, the gods, and omens while Avindir recuperated and our dragonfolk prisoner was roused.
 
We found 14 silver, 17 copper, and three platinum coins in the camp, which we allocated to the collective fund.