Arrival at Mulmaster

Winding cobbled streets and buildings as tall as ancient willows, is this a human pinnacle or just the precipice of their architectural prowess. There are so many sounds and scents here.
Baking bread and open markets littered with stray cats tiptoeing between the tree trunk legs of the fishmongers eager for scraps.
 
Did Davdon ever come here I wonder, to buy some of the components we couldn’t source ourselves. I never asked him… So many questions left unanswered, buds never to bloom.
 
Regardless of reminiscing, this evening I found myself in a tavern. Populated with many personalities of different walks of life. A single, cloaked figure revealed themselves late into the evening with aggressive and confused intentions and to arms the patrons came.
 
Crossbow bolts like lightning.
 
Magic weaving ice like a deadly tapestry.
 
Dissonant poems that strike the mind asunder.
 
And a healing touch of kindness.
 
Where am I in this unfurling of events, a bystander dumbfounded by the competence of others. An elderly child witnessing a harmony I intrude upon.
 
They are a curious company that interest me, teasing me away from my own objective. I only know a few names to countenances.
 
Allie Jack, the magician with a pure heart ripe with curiosity worn openly on her sleeve. Wide pale eyes and hair that reflect a secret sensitivity and consideration for others.
 
Scodrun, a dichotomy of Dwarven and Elven cultures. Charismatic to a fault and a charmer to be sure. But under that boisterous nature I see a softness for the vulnerable - a desire to protect others.
 
Krist, a peacemaker, diplomat and adaptable Drow. As quick to defend as he is to protect, not matching the stereotypes dictated to me in literature but then, isn’t that more oft’ the case.
 
And a gentlemanly human who kept his distance from the other patrons. A solitary man with a sad look in his eye. Perhaps a quiet soul following his own journey, or a part of the group now choosing to separate from his peers due to some disagreement.
 
The conflict yielded a link to a deity I know little of: Yan-C-Bin via means of a curious eagle-come-snake tattoo in a rather discrete area of the assailants body. This resulted in a sergeant of some authority to enter, Callugen is his name and he holds an intense air of duty and self-assurance. He took the names of two companions, but I - being the way that I am - remained silent.
 
What is my name to him anyway, it holds the same lack of power for him as it does for me.
 
How much is there in this world to which I know nothing of, are they as I am? Lost in a sea of unknowing, I’m wading in the ocean with no land in sight.
 
I go to my meditations silently as Allie-Jack slumbers. The perfect picture of divinity.
 
I pray the visions leave me in peace this evening.
 
 
 
B l acCk tEarsssss