Nuwasu

Physical Description

General Physical Condition

Nuwasu has a lean, fit physique honed by years of martial arts training. While not broad, he has definition under his heavy robes.

Body Features

Nuwasu resembles a tufted jay and a green jay. Because of this, he has a frill of soft and flexible feathers running from near his browline to the back of his head. In addition, the backs of his upper arms have short, soft iridescent green feathers. His tail feathers are long and shift from blue to green. His hands have significant callouses from his martial arts training. He has no significant scarring.

Facial Features

His eyes are a vibrant, golden amber. His feather pattern on his face has a patch of blue feathers over each eye resembling eyebrows. He's gotten quite talented as using them to help emote to non-kenku.

Identifying Characteristics

Nuwasu's most distinct physical features are his vibrant eyes, head frill, and azure-teal feathers.

Physical quirks

Nuwasu's feet, like most kenku, resemble claws. He is particularly apt at having his legs be fairly straight, though, which hides his digitigrade legs.

Apparel & Accessories

Nuwasu favors simple-textured brown, green, and gray clothing. He wears many layers of tunics, pants, and cloaks to hide his body.

Mental characteristics

Personal history

Nuwasu was born on the road between the Umenor empire and the kenku commune. His earliest months were spent without a home, his father dying, a sibling dying, and his mother and sister finally reaching the sanctuary of the commune. Unknown to his family at the time, Nuwasu was of the first generation of kenku children born with the ability to speak their own voice in centuries. Nuwasu grew up in the commune, idealizing the kenku heroes Sky and Thunder for their services to his people. His mother told him stories of how their family suffered in the elven empire, which put upon him the burden of generational trauma. Like many kenku, Nuwasu was a sensitive soul who easily took on communal grief, guilt, and pain. Nuwasu did not handle the trauma well. He became a self-proclaimed "street tough" in the commune, being a bit of a brat to his neighbors while simultaneously being fiercely loyal to his people. He idealized heroes of the kenku revolts, thus he tried to live their romanticized life. Without an oppressive people, this mostly resulted in being a minor hooligan and a street brawler. Nuwasu's skill at unarmed combat was noticed by the still-young Mercy Lodge. They offered to train him and give him discipline, which his mother readily supported. Nuwasu rapidly got the hang of structured fighting and took to the philosophical lessons well, but was unable to put his breath into the crucible of his soul. He grew frustrated as younger kenku were able to activate their qi before him. His master took pity on him and began his initiation into the lodge before he developed the required energy connection other monks had. One of Nuwasu's earliest missions was to help escort a recently recovered satyr from the faewyld named Callista.

Gender Identity

Nuwasu identifies as male.

Education

Nuwasu was given the same public education as all kenku in the commune had. Unfortunately for him, he didn't prove to be a gifted student and didn't treat his studies seriously. Nuwasu is well educated in the philosophy, religion, and rites of his order. In addition, Nuwasu's parents were healers and apothecaries. He learned the healer's trade from his mother and is trying to learn the apothecary's trade to honor his dead father.

Employment

Nuwasu is employed and actively a member of the Mercy Lodge.

Mental Trauma

Nuwasu carries resentment to the outside world for the general treatment of kenku.

Morality & Philosophy

Nuwasu is a member of the Mercy Lodge and their subsidiary monk order. This comes with a belief of the balance of Ypi Hohae, also known as the Honest Path or the True Path. It is founded on an end-goal of spiritual enlightenment through a balance of severe judgement and earnest compassion. Contrary to outsider's opinions, the balance isn't across multiple actions. Rather, each action performed needs mutual balance between the severity of strength, discipline, and judgement against the kindness of compassion, mercy, and generosity. In addition, Nuwasu's order teaches that death is a natural consequence of life. All life will end in death, thus life is a temporary and precious thing. You are allowed to end life if it is in the defense of life, but it must be done with purpose, wisdom, and thought.

Social

Contacts & Relations

Monastic

Master Sopai, the spiritual master of the temple Nuwasu trained in.
Master
Brother Ydu, a peer Nuwasu trained alongside and the first of their class. Brother Ydu is far more scholarly and sophistocated than Nuwasu and was the first of his class to ignite the crucible of the soul.
Sister Paemy, a peer Nuwasu trained alongside and the second of their class. Sister Paemy has a compassionate heart and a great understanding of other people. She was the second of Nuwasu's class to ignite the crucible of the soul.

Commune

Nyke, a hero of the commune, is a massively compassionate person and non-violent poet.
Daenu, a hero of the commune, was a vengeful and protective warrior.
Priest (Reywau) Raypoi, a former gang runner with Nuwasu who found a calling as a radical priest of Taeora, god of Mysticism. He has a controversial belief that the institution of spellcraft is antithetical to the true nature of Magick and a meager attempt for mortals to assert order over the chaos of mysticism.

Family Ties

Nuwasu has a mother, who is a master apothecary, and a sister, who is a journeyman apothecary. The family trade of medicine and herbalism was taught to him from a young age, but he pursued a more martialized path. His father and brother fell in the peregrination to the commune.

Wealth & Financial state

Nuwasu is not from a wealthy community or family.

A street tough monk of mercy, poised to aid those who are forgotten and harm those who forget.

View Character Profile

Alignment

Neutral Good

Age

19 years old

Birthplace

The Wilds

Children

Gender

Male

Eyes

Golden Amber

Hair

Blue, black, and green feathers

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Dark gray

Height

5'1"

Weight

110 lbs

Entering Emvalor for the First Time

The caravan moved forward, past the murder of a member. I found this almost casual dismissal towards such a horrid crime perplexing, but I was in no position of power or influence to enact a meaningful investigation. Especially as the only accused suspect. ------ Finally, we reached Emvalor, the home city of my mother and my father. It would have been my own home city, if my family didn't flee. When I saw the walls, I felt a sense of excitement, anticipated, and trepidation. I was always curious to see the city my father worked in when I was a kid, but I was also filled with stories of strife and fear from my mother. Oh kora, will I see what you saw, or what I hoped to find? We approached from the south eastern side, and I saw to my right signs of the Tachoyimi (the gated community that the kenku were allowed to live in outside of the protective walls of the cities of Umenor). I felt drawn to it immediately and the few buidlings I could spot on my approach immediately reminded me of the commune back home. Homesickness was a pain deep in my heart. I remembered the stories my dear kora told me of my father. He was a dispenser of knowledge and a guide in a museum within the walls. He would repeat (in their approved voice) the messages the curators had about exhibits to any guest and show them the various things to see. He must have been well educated in the history of the Empire, and it weighs on my heart to think how that very empire drove him out. According to Idiad, the temple-museum was dedicated to the first emperor of the Empire and their life. In addition, the city acted as the temporary seat of power in the Empire as the prior capital was razed in the civil war. Supposedly, the Empress herself was physically in the city we were entering. According to the cantors back home, she is supposed to be friendly to the kenku. I don't know if her presence made me feel safer for her compassion or on guard for her security. I bid Idiad farewell when we reached the busy market and laid eyes upon the awe-inspiring temple to the first Emperor. I desperately wanted to go in and see the sights my deyse saw, talk to the people who knew him, and witness how they showed they remembered him. Alas, the mission came first, and the Cult's wagons continued North Westward. I told my fellow vanguards that I was going to report in and see if the mission had changed and I would find them soon. I hurried to The Dungeoneer's Hope, the safehouse I knew of in the city. The history I read about years ago did nothing to prepare me for what I saw -- it truly was a gaol prison converted into a tavern and they relished in the aesthetic. When I entered, I saw a motley crew of various ancestries working together, but no kenku. I started to have a sinking feeling -- no kenku were seen yet. Truly, was the entire population of Emvalorian kenku gone? Maybe some remained in the Tachoyimi. We lived and worked in this city for generations, after all. Surely our presence couldn't be wiped out in the span of a few months. I shook such selfish pursuits out of my head and proceeded to hand over a report of the money trail so far. I learned The Dungeoneer's Hope's front is a speak easy run by adventurers, and it also apparently was a bar. I let them know we were still hot on the cult's trail and that I had to hurry after my cohorts in the hunt. They understood, gave no new orders, and so I left. I found the vanguards near the north western gate where they were pursuing the cult into an inn outside of the city. The gang decided to investigate their tenure at said inn, but I knew I was too recognizable and had no skill at subterfuge, so I remained outside to keep watch. When they returned, they reported back little intel, so they lead me to the warehouse the Cult's wagons were deposited at. Here, I was given a task: seek out the logbook in the warehouse and see what intel I could gather. I sincerely hoped it was written in common; my Elvish is awful and I only know a few words (such as iyadda or byrfan). As the vanguards distracted the worker, I sneaked to the offices and found the door locked. I had to sneak back, pick pocket the poor worker while he was still talking to Makaan about some war scars or something, and return to the locked office. Now that I could get through the door, I found a logbook and jotted down a few notes. Three wagons arrived for the resupply convoy and they had a verification from some Elven name of whom I didn't know. I jotted down what I could, returned the office to the prior state, locked the door, returned the keys to the old man, and left the warehouse listening to them talk about dragons or something near a swamp up north. With the information in tow, and with more knowledge gleaned (including that the cult was planning to leave the next morning to go north near the swamp with rumored dragons to work on road repair or some such cover), I led the vanguards to the safehouse in The Dungeoneer's Hope. They showed us a private booth with a hidden lever that, when engaged, revealed a small sleeping area behind a revolving wall. Honestly, it was really neat. We unloaded some of our burdens, then chose to explore the city for the evening. We went to the museum of the First Emperor and I finally got to see where my father worked. I didn't expect so many bureaucrats or workers in a temple, but who am I to judge? I looked around, though, and I saw no kenku continuing my father's job, nor did I see anything about the kenku pogroms or expulsion from the city. I was, to say the least, disappointed. Reflecting on my feelings, a half-elven priestess approached us. She had a friendly presentation, nor did I get a sense of veiled cruelty. I asked about the workers who worked here decades ago and I saw a flicker of recognition flutter across her expression. She saw my poorly dyed feathers, saw my colors, and knew them. The priestess lead us to a bench where we talked more. She told me that there were no more kenku speakers working here, and later she informed me that there were likely no kenku left in the entire city of Emvalor. She also mentioned that she remembered my father Yewdayle, also known as Truth Whispers. She proceeded to talk about the importance of unity and community, but I fear I heard the blood pounding in my ears more than her priestly words. She spoke of the days before my family was forced to leave. The public opinion soured and the kenku were in danger. She sensed violence approaching, but could do nothing as a lowly acolyte of the temple. She encouraged kenku to flee while they could, for not even the priests were on their side. Since then, there has been a reformation in the temple focused on cross-ancestry tolerance and unity. The temple turned its influence inward, away from the theater of politics, and focused on healing itself and the corrupted position it took. There was even a new high priest who drove the temple to foster tolerant community. I was ... shaken. On one hand, I was glad there were reformations in place. On the other, why did it take the elven people so long to make them? My family's home burned, my mother driven from her store, my father lost his job, and we were forced to flee on foot into the wilds of the undead scarred Scorland. I'm glad they are so happy now, but they are happy without my people. We were forced out and now they seek to turn inward and heal. I felt the fury of my people burning in my soul, and I regret to say that I lashed back a bit with words. We were given a quick showing of the exhibits (none of which talked about what they did to us), and then we left. I felt so many emotions swirling inside of me. Do I despise them for hurting my kora and my deyse and my family? Do I pity them for finding enlightenment at the cost of fracturing their community? Do I let this learned rage go, for it was not my pain they inflicted? I tried to remember the virutes taught to me by my monastery about balance. Mercy would dictate that I show a magnanimity in the face of their failings. I would try to heal the damage caused, let go of the burden of disgust. Severity would dictate that I judge them for the horrible actions they committed against my people, how they seem to have brushed the tragedy out of the public eye. I knew I must meditate on this, for the monks would have insisted that the just path was somewhere in between. Before the sun set, we decided to also visit the Tochoyimi. Here, I could get a better sense as to how my people once lived, and maybe center myself on what is truly important. We left the south eastern gate and traveled north along the wall. I saw many hobgoblin veterans begging for coin or for help, and my Refusal of Shadow saw various sicknesses and wounds in them that needed healing. I could do naught to aid them yet, for my medicinal spirit was not potent enough nor robust enough to help them all. With sorrow, I moved past them into the Tochoyimi. When we entered the gates, I felt a painful rush of homesickness. I saw the tall roofs of our people's architecture, reaching for the heavens refused to us. I saw the same community design I grew up in. However, I also saw walls in disrepair, doors sadly hanging on their hinges, and no signs of the colorful craft of my people. Hobgoblins lived in these buildings now, and they were not living happily. A kind hobgoblin man named Kragsame guided us to the quartermaster of the fishing industry, named Mac. This elder hobgoblin spoke to us about how much having a vacant neighborhood like this meant to the hobgoblins who were cast out of guard and military roles near the end of the civil war. Now, they live as lesser citizens of Emvalor, much as the kenku had. I felt pangs of sympathy and compassion wash over me, seeing these proud folk living like we used to. I did not forget what the hobgoblin military did against us when we were rumored to have assassinated the princess (now empress) of the Empire. Nonetheless, they lived in constant awareness of the tragedy of my people, and that endeared them to me. I asked if they had any relics or trinkets left from the kenku, and the kindly Mac showed me a chest of sundries left behind. Most was, frankly, decayed junk. The waters from the bay ate away at wood, cloth, and paper. Anything of value was either taken in the exodus from Emvalor or sold by the new inhabitants of the Tochoyimi. I fully understood -- survival was the first priority for any community. Cysus, Lord of the Crafts must have been smiling upon me, for I did find one token that softened my still-overwhelmed heart. I found a small icon of a god used by cantors during storytelling with children. It was like thought of as a little doll, nothing of note. But I saw it and I, for the first time since entering Emvalor, felt and held evidence that we stood here. I thanked Mac, who insisted I could just take it. I felt his grief when he saw it, and I knew that such a kindness must be rewarded. I gave him a gold coin, then we made our way back to The Dungeoneer's Hope for the evening. Every hobgoblin veteran I passed asking for succor, I gave them a silver coin. What else was I to do?

Zakrieg's Betrayal and Pursuit of the Cult

Zalkrieg was acting suspicious. He insisted that we should go, with him guarding the shield, and we shouldn't search for more prisoners. We collectively agreed that, contrary to Zalkrieg's advice, we should absolutely look for more victims of the cult to Tyrrany. While Makaan and his sister keep an eye on Zalkrieg, Avindir and I stalked the halls for more prisoners. We found a small set of cells near the end of a tunnel guarded by some bearded fiend. Avindir wove a glamour over himself (using the mask) and pretended once more to be Amryn. He talked to the jailor, but we could tell the fiend was not convinced by this magical guise. Quickly, Avindir conjured a thick cloud of fog in the room to escape and to let me hold off the fiend. Now, I never fought solely using my Refusal of the Shadow before, so this was a welcome experiment. On the other hand, I was fighting a very angry fiend with a polearm. While Avindir sent his familiar to get reinforcements and stayed out of the fog, ready to magic any foe who emerged, my job was to keep the fiend occupied. I could sense the lumbering fiend's movements through the mist as if I could see him myself. It is difficult to explain how this sense works -- I am finding my vocabulary lacking. It was almost like how I could feel when a fly landed on my fathers, or how I know where my hand is when I am not looking at it. I proceeded to assault and maneuver around the fiend without their awareness of me. They kept trying to strike a location I was previously in, but I felt each blow coming before it reached me. Without a scratch on my form, I defeated the fiend and it melted into ichor. The reinforcements of Makaan, Therezia, and their ward Zalkrieg arrived, which meant we could investigate who was jailed. We found two prisoners in the cells, one of which (a dark-skinned man) was sent after Zalkrieg. According to this man (Codrad Shay), Zalkrieg was a priest, but abandoned his oaths in favor of some other, unknown power (likely a fiend, if I could guess). The other prisoner was a female noble named Rethi Raprat, who assured us that the insult of being imprisoned wouldn't go unpunished upon the manor. With more people in tow, we sneaked out of the sewers through the secret ladder in the chapel and found ourselves in a stable. Outside, we heard justicars raiding the manor and making arrests. Confident in our innocence and our virtue, we emerged and explained all we witnessed and who we found. A tiefling woman (I've met more tieflings in the last six months than I've ever expected to see in my entire life) named Liliponae Leyhalla, an imperial knight of an imperial theocracy from far away, came with Codrad to claim Zalkrieg. She was a "Magi of the Acolytes of the Arcane Storm", whatever that meant. She provided a scroll (of which Avindir readily grabbed) to "help communicate", then proceeded to claim Zalkrieg. Before she could shackle him, though, a ferocious magic radiating from the shield assaulted our minds. I felt a fear more primal than any I've faced before, and I felt a compulsion to flee. Truly, I was unprepared for the sheer weight of the magical command that was issued by that possessed shield. Makaan managed to power through it (likely due to his experiences with fear in his adventures as a "Merchant") and tackled Zalkrieg to the ground, scattering the shield. The effect ended and I felt embarrassed that, even after all of the meditative training I had in the monastery, I was still overwhelmed by a magical fear. With Zalkrieg handed off to Codrad and Liliponae Leyhalla (who we learned was alerted by our associate the Archivist), we returned to the Comfort Rose and reported back. ====== So began our monitoring of the other bathhouse and sites around the city for cult activity. While Makaan and Avindir collected the reward for turning in the pirate ship, I saw suspicious people carry out the chests of treasure meant for offerings for the Dark Dreaming cult. I followed them to the eastern gate and then to a porter. I paid a street runner a gold coin to deliver a message post-haste to the Comfort Rose and my allies soon came to me. We saw how the three people I followed (a half-elf or a human, a human or a half elf, and a dwarf) went to Zilri Vav's Equipage and loaded up a few wagons for a caravan. Unexpectedly, a palanquin from the city came through the gate. I saw a glimpse of a black-scaled person in the palanquin communicate with the cult's carts, then return to the city. Suspicious for sure, but we knew that we had to follow. This was our mission. Avindir and Makaan elected to try and be guards. I, being a beautiful and memorable kenku, would not likely get a job in the caravan without being recognized by someone who kept me "prisoner" back in the ravine, so I bought a pony and elected to trail behind the caravan. The entire trip was scheduled to be around four weeks as we headed east along the coast. ====== While on the road, the caravan stopped to witness a hobgoblin attack on an upturned merchant cart. I came by and investigated, asked a few questions, and tried to assess if I could safely get the merchants out of the crossfire of half a dozen angry hobgoblin archers. Unfortunately, I found no efficient means to save them at the time, so I had to back off. Later, when the assault ended, our caravan passed by and I looked for survivors. Blessed be Aen, Light Lord of Compassion, for I found someone barely alive. I applied medical salves, bandages, and a bit of medicinal spirit to his wounds to bring him to an ambulatory state, and I took him into my small camp. The merchant's name was Idiad Brórd, a half-elf merchant who was traveling with his team. He was the lone survivor, and I saw how it pained him to realize that his wares were lost. I didn't want to probe too deeply into that pain, so I tried comforting him in other ways. I asked about his family, his life, his time in the empire. What was it like to see so much political change? Idiad, much to my wonder, proved to be a lovely conversationalist. ====== After days of talking with Idiad and learning about his trade, the caravan stopped again. Apparently, there was evidence of a significant spider infestation in the local woods. Silken web draped over trees like canvas tents and the air felt sticky. I, a brave adventurer, rode forth on my pony alongisde the guards Makaan and Avindir. Makaan appeared to be put in charge of two blokes and, much to my delight, it was the same two that kidnapped Avindir around a month ago! I'm glad they are doing well and keeping a more respectable job. We found four spiders and a spider-tick-man (later identified as an ettercap). The fight was rough, and I was encased in a globule of web for an embarrassingly long time. With the aid of the two blokes and our teamwork, though, we turned the fight around and emerged victorious! One of the blokes was pretty hurt, so I administered aid to help him. I think this will be a good chapter in his story. ====== Another day on the road. Idiad and I have fallen into a comfortable silence for much of the travel. I admit, I think I truly have been spoiled by Avindir's cooking. After all these weeks, I'm finding frequent rations, gruel, currents, curds, and whey to be boring. This morning, my bowl of whey, currents, and curds around our small breakfast fire was interrupted by a blade to my throat. A gnome woman flipped the blade over and claimed a "bone spur" was in my gruel as revealed on the underside of the blade. Frankly, I've been on the streets. I've seen better cons; I was not convinced by her claims, but I played along. She seemed to suggest that the cult's camp tried to assassinate me (they could just, yaknow, stab me in the middle of the night). She wanted to meet with me and my allies Avindir and Makaan. That caught my attention far more. I conveyed a message to Avindir, who would pass it on to Makaan. That night at midnight, we'd meet in Avindir's magic expanding big interior tent. ====== That night, the gnome met us Avindir and I in the tent. Makaan refused to play her game, which I honestly sympathize with. Makaan isn't the most patient member of our group. The gnome introduced herself as Yohani. She claimed to hate the ideas of the cult and worked against them in a group of like-minded possible allies. It felt very suspicious. She expressed how she also hated how the cult had a relationship with Zodatha. ====== Two days later, Yohani was gone from the caravan. Coincidentally, a member of the cult's camp was murdered with a sword stab high through the chest. There was one member of the camp (whom I believe I met before; he looked like the drake minder back in the ravine) who immediately accused me. I was searched and they could not find any weapon that could make the wound. His claims I was a spy was then dismissed as manic bias; no one trusted his judgments of me now. I asked if the gnome was still around. People feigned confusion and, frankly, that just seemed to piss Makaan off even more.

Rescue from the Manor

We began the day investigating the favored brother of Mordden named Amryn. He worked out of the Curse of the Princess, a tavern installed in a converted ship of some sort. We elected to enter with guile and guise; I freshly applied my feather wax-dye (I do miss my original color), got dressed, and set off in character. I was never the best in my gang at theater, but I still tried. When we approached the ship, we saw it was integrated into the dock solidly; no sailing off. On the mast was two ravens and I could tell something wasn't quite right with them. I doubted they were natural birds nor divine omens. We climbed the plank and saw the deck littered with the corpses of seagulls. I didn't see any injuries or exteranl wounds on them; I believe they were killed with a subtle poison or magic of some sorts. Not a great welcome to the tavern. We descended into the first floor of the ship to see a fairly lively tavern scene. I recognized the guard who pulled us aside when we entered the city; he seemed to be bemoaning some misfortune at work. I steered clear of him and went to the bar, where I saw the barkeep was a fellow kenku! I greeted him in our gestural language and asked about the circumstances of the tavern. The tavern owner was near the bar with a crab familiar, according to barkeep Oimaye. Oimaye (who appeared to be around 40 or so years old) also let me know he was treated tolerably, but he didn't really approve of the owner's associations that would frequent the tavern. While I was chatting with Oimaye, my cohorts descended another level. I hurried after them to see another bar with another kenku. This fellow, of whom I later learned was named Aodaelo, was older, maybe around 50 or even 60. He had a horrid scar down half his face, rendering one eye useless. Unlike the friendly Oimaye, Aodaelo was far more gruff and despondent. Seeing who was in the room, I could understand why. At one end of the ship sat Amryn, who had a thorny spiny fiendish looking partner with leathery wings. I knew not who they were, but the multiple bodyguards and the casual fiend definitely cast Amryn in a harsh light. I didn't feel as though Amryn was a ... welcoming patron of the tavern. Based on Aodaelo's testamony, and what I was about to witness, I was correct. An elderly man came to meet Amryn while we were watching. I sat on a sofa with Makaan's sister under the guise of a friendly drink while Makaan and Avindir were at the bar. Multiple smaller groups proved to be more subtle than a larger group. The elderly man begged Amryn to accept some paltry sum of coinage to stave off the end point of a debt. Amryn was not impressed and said he would "take what was owed from you discreetly"; likely some sort of harvesting or labor. With a signal, he told Aodaelo to put some concoction into the man's drink. Aodaelo signed to me that this was how things were, and that I would best be leaving soon. The old man knew this was some sort of end, and drank the brew with resignation before falling unconscious. A guard carried him underdeck one level further, which was the last I saw of the man. Therezia seemed mighty displeased by the sight, which was understandable. Even though we were on a scouting mission, she was getting ready to throw down and save the man. I threw a nut at Makaan to get him to notice his sister's adrenaline-fueled fury, then we hurredly left the room. I spoke to Oimaye once more, asking for an address and about Aodaelo. It turned out Oimaye took care of the elderly kenku and they lived in a run-down portion of the docks. We knew we needed a way into the manor, so we went to visit the Archivist Kema, whom we helped in the gambling room earlier. It was a bit of a slog to get to her, but I saw the elaborate and gorgeous building she worked in. Only the hallowed temples of the commune approached the artistic level of this architecture back home. Archivist Kema informed us that she couldn't find a sewer map of the estate we were going to infiltrate. The owner of the estate was the "Master of the Sewers" and worked intensely at installing and maintaining the sewer network in the city. A noble job, but one she has perverted to cruelty. Archivist Kema offered to introduce us to members of the undermarket (a band of less-than-legal merchants and workers) with the possibility that they would know a way in through the sewers. This sat poorly with my group, who didn't trust the undermarket denizens. I filed that away in my mind for when we returned to the bathhouse, where I told Caeled about the kenku and what we saw. We also informed him of our mission and our desires to try to sneak in. Caeled had no map, nor did he really trust the undermarket denizens either. Instead, we chose to disguise ourselves and enter through the front door. Avindir would use the mask of many faces to emulate Amryn and lead me, an up and coming merchant, into the manor. There, we would look for the sewer entrance and save Therezia's mentor. Caeled procured me a gorgeous suit of shining green and vibrant purple, which I felt was quite flattering. Makaan and Therezia were my bodyguards, and their scowling faces really sold it. We entered the district without trouble (thanks to the letter of passage from Mordden) and entered the estate without issue (thanks to the illusions of Avindir). I was introduced as Raylano Korae, a usurus moneydealer from Carangoroth and possible ally of the family. Once we entered, Avindir-Amryn asked a butler or servant for fine wines in the cellar and followed him down. When we got our wine and our glasses, we searched for the sewer entrance. It turned out to be quite accessible in the sewer, so we proceeded to sneak in and look for Therezia's mentor, Zalkrieg. When looking, we stumbled into a profane chapel to Xatris, Dark Lord of Tyrrany and Cruelty. Four cultists were chanting (quite ominously) and a single spined spiky thorny fiend was at the end of the room. When we entered, he could tell Avindir wasn't Amryn, and he got ready to launch quills or whatever the fiend had at Avindir. I stepped in front to intercept, and the fight was on. We took down the four cultists quite swiftly; they were not experienced brawlers. Before we could focus on the fiend, however, Dame Deidre (Amryn and Mordden's mother) entered the room from some secret passage and banished a giant-form Makaan from sight! We knew we had to focus down the Dame, but she proved to be more difficult than anticipated when she grew flaming claw hands. Avindir conjured a massive bolt of crackling lightning, fled to a corner, and the Dame pursued. Avindir, blessed be his spunk, was not fit for a claw fight with the Dame and fell to his wounds. I had to intervene, so I struck down the fiend and the Dame for their profanities, then tended to the injured allies. Everyone was feeling the pain, but we survived. Makaan destroyed the icon of Xatris, who resembled an angelic figure with saw-like teeth, and the statue crumbled into gravel-sand. In the rubble was a single weapon of hellfire. None of us felt comfortable with such an implement, so we wrapped it up and Avindir was tasks with keeping it safe from us and us from it. I pryaed to Xatris, Thuses, and Garagnos the Dark Lord of the Underground to hopefully help remove the profane desecration on this place. This was not the right way to revere the Sphere of Darkness. We found a burning altar in a hidden room and a ladder leading out in another. With an exit identified, I had to find the mentor Zakrieg. I snuck past patrolling cutlists and found many rooms he was not in. The last room I checked contained him -- he was pacing back and forth in a locked chamber (of which we found a key) and seemed distressed. I identified him and guided him back to the vanguards, but he insisted on taking a truly beautifully crafted shield with him. Strange for sure, but we weren't in a safe place to argue. When we returned to the vanguards, I saw his shadow's silhouette was nothing like the form I saw with my eyes. His shadow had stubby wings, swine features, and suggested what we saw was illusory in some way. He also seemed particularly attached to the shield. Makaan was especially affected by something going on, then informed us that the shield contained (or was possessed?) by some fiendish presence who wished for freedom. We knew earlier that the Dame was trying to free some kind of fiend, and it appeared that we now had them. This is far beyond what I trained for.

Bathhouse Cult of Slaughter

We followed the sullen hall towards the sounds of tortune. Steps lead us down into the same kind of fetid water as before and I found myself surprised how much I appreciated the safehouse was a far more sanitary basement than this bathhouse's. We saw that two people were preparing a bound elven man as some sort of ritualized sacrifice, torture, or delight in pain. This clearly required intervention on our part, thus we proceeded to intervene. The vanguards charged forth and interrupted their rites. It appeared that one could all upon a statue's metal gauntlets to animate and assault us. I tried to help in battle, but I found my attention split. My Refusal of Shadow was refining itself over the course of the stressors and I began to feel overwhelmed. Coupled with the absolute indignation I felt towards the profane I was witnessing, I fear my mind's eye was not upon the fight in front of me but instead upon a fight within. Fortunately, none of us were particularly harmed, and my medical training (gratitude to my mother) let me patch us up after the cultists were put down. I also tended to Balvin, the elf man. He claimed to be a merchant who was ambushed in a street (with his bodyguard killed in the process) by the cultists. I am grateful that we rescued him in time, and Calliope escorted him safely to the bathhouse above. We found a room with the odor of natural gas. I covered my beak with thick fabric, sneaked through the room, and scouted deeper within. I found a hall of rooms and many doorways all around. I also found an altar of bones and skulls; I feel my feathers shiver to just recollect it. I returned and the party elected to go elsewhere. We stumbled upon the workings of a necromancer, and I ambushed her with my bow. Before the rest of us could spring into action, she threw magic upon us. I didn't know what the nature of the magic was, but I witnessed what appeared to be serpentine black flames or smoke roiling towards us all. I tried my best to dodge it and avoided most of the magic, but some still struck me and tried to wither my flesh. My comrades seemed overall to avoid the magic, but Makaan's sister was struck strongly by it. Avindir elected to end the conflict swiftly and blasted the wooden beams supporting the ceiling and collapsing the room upon the mage. Later, I realized it was vengeance for killing Kipi the familiar cat. Avindir assured me she was not truly dead, but merely unsummoned or something along those lines. While Avindir and Makaan excavated the room, Makaan's sister and I kept lookout and put down a poor, bloated, diseased rat. Avindir found some magical tome (the third or fourth down here; so many cultists appear to be wizards), then we moved on. We found a room with two prisoners in it, but one was dead. Fortune smiled upon the second, for she (a tiefling woman) was still alive (but unconscious). It looked like her wounds had salt packed into it. The cruelty was significant, so I washed out the wounds and closed them up with some balm and care. I brought her to consciousness when I felt her body wouldn't unduly be in agony, and she told us her name was Vanatta. She distributed wine and spirits as a job and had no reason to be taken. She told us of hearing stone grinding on stone and water splashing north of her, then Calliope escorted her back to the bathhouse to rest with Balvin. We proceeded north, cleared out the halls of enemies (again, I felt myself ineffectual in combat; my internal conflict seemingly louder than the external one), then the party (Avindir especially) found a secret door. We opened the door, sneaked in, and found what looked to be an assassin of some sort (wearing a skeletal mask) attacking a large, maul-wielding warrior. It was pretty clear to the party that the assassin was not an ally, so we intervened and helped defeat the assassin (again, I was not of much help). I tended to the large man's wounds and we heard his story. The man was named Mordden Deylidre. He told us that the mentor we seeked was with his mom in her estate. She was not a kind woman in the upper city; she funded the cult we just fought through in order to sow discord and distrust for the current duke of the city and to show his incompetence. The cultists received payment from her coffers via his brother Amrin (who was a broker working out of the Curse of the Princess tavern; that sounds familiar in my song, but I don't recall how). The mother loved Amrin the most, considering Mordden to be a disappointment. The eldest brother Thaddwell controls or uses invisible imps to spy upon the city (sounds familiar, for sure). Mordden, in turn, was an "enforcer" or a "street tough". I immediately felt empathy towards him. When I looked upon Mordden, all I saw was the scion of a family who abandoned him and the pain of living a life on the streets without self-provided meaning. I used to be like that in my youth, and I didn't want anything like that to continue on for him. He might have been here to help ensure the slaughter cult's offerings to the Dark Dreamer cult were passed on smoothly, but his family betrayed him and sent assassins to eliminate him. I reflected in that moment upon my masters and my fellow monks. I would not be nearly as successful, self-controlled, or content as I am without their guidance. Mordden deserved the same; he deserved to have a chance to rise above fighting in the streets and find a purpose to help his community. And thus, I spoke to him (violating my disguise, as I realized in retrospect) and pleaded for him to find a way out of this danger, to find a purpose, and to live with purpose. I think he saw something in me that I saw in him, and I felt a connection with another person (and a non-kenku, which was even more surprising!) that I rarely felt before. I think he understood me and I understood him, and he hopefully begins a path of self-awareness and kindness. He told us more, now that we understood each other. His brothers literally scarred his face with flame when he was a child, his mother was "zealous" in a path towards Xatris (dark lord of tyranny and cruelty), and how his familial estate's sewers were converted to a clandestine temple to (in my opinion) a profaned concept of Xatris. There was some attempt to free a locked-away fiend of some nature in this profane temple, but we had a chance to stop it. He offered us a letter of standing to enter the upper city, but it wouldn't grant us passage into the manor. After all, his family tried to have him assassinated. Why would they let in strangers vouched by their unfavorite scion? We thanked him for his kindness, encouraged him to leave the city (with the other two prisoners we found in the cult of slaughter), and to forge a new life of virtue. He began to leave, then let us know that (as a possibility), we could take Amrin's person as a hostage to gain access. The party looted some of the treasure meant for the Cult of the Dark Dreamer, but left the coin. That way, if they did come, we'd still be able to follow the money to their true seat of power. We did take two potions of healing, a beautiful silvery plate armor (later identified as mithril; good for Calliope), some agates, a magical helmet (a helm of underwater action), a porcelain mask (a mask of disguise), a wand (wand of secrets), a magical pearl (pearl of power), and something significant to me: a bronze crown of five spires. When I saw this crown, I immediately thought of the crowns of Ilos, the Supreme God of Light; Korion, the Supreme God of Order; Thuses, the Supreme God of Darkness; and Raxas the Supreme God of Chaos. In the stained glass of our temples and in the paints of our murals, the four supreme gods had a recurring theme of a five-pointed crown (vertical for Ilos and Thuses, inverted for Korion and Raxas). This felt significant to me. Later, it was identified as a crown from the imperial treasure of the Holy Empire of Subratha, which was rumored to be ruled by an immortal favored by Korion. We rested back at the safehouse that evening, and I felt my soul's crucible refine myself even further.

The Ship, Bath, and Cults

When I saw the street toughs approach our mark in the gambler's club, I definitely had the sense of violent intent. I tried to discourage any conflict by interposing myself between the toughs and the archivist, but it was to naught. Rather than a dialogue springing up, five crossbow bolts were fired at me. I'm a nimble lad; I was able to deflect the blows and absorb them into the cape as I've done times before. With those attacks, though, the fight began. It was a pretty standard brawl; people with unsanctioned and unsporting weapons, heated emotions, drunks, and magic. I sensed Avindir was bumbled in the back line by a drunken shifty person (who was likely a thief; Avindir lost the potion I made for him). Avindir enlarged me with his ensorcelments, which was an admittingly fun but clumsy experience. The large, greatsword-brandishing tough (called Mad-Eyes) was taken down, the archivist gambled their way into the melee, and Makaan was the target of many blows. All in all, aside from the rampant bloodsport and death, it was a thrilling fight. I was unable to really enjoy it; these sorts of battles shouldn't result in the other side's death. It should be sporting. After our victory, the vanguards proceeded to try and loot the assorted remains of the toughs, then we absconded out of the den through the second story window. I was quite proud of my leap -- I landed with quite a lot of grace. Avindir revealed that the Golden Touch was our likely next location, but he also revealed that he now had Mad Eye's docking manifest and (thus) ownership of Mad Eye's ship (somehow). I trusted Avindir's stratagems, so we went to scout Mad Eye's ship. When there, it looked like the vanguards were intent on neutralizing the pirating (water brigands?) threat in the harbor, so my scouting mission rapidly degraded to a reverse banditry mission. With Makaan's intention to leap upon and climb the ship, I chose to join him to offer backup after Avindir's attempt at diplomacy ("I own this ship!") failed. Once on the deck, I saw two sailors going for an alarm bell. I intercepted one, but the other avoided me and rang the tones. While I was doing some light brawling with the pirate, we on the back deck saw the main deck become a violent scene of slaughter. With an intimate understanding of "we don't want to actually die for this", I play-fought with the first guy and helped "knock" him off the ship, where he proceeded to swim off. The second was convinced by our performance, so I tried lightly tapping him to retreat to the ledge. Instead, he succumbed to my blow (which surprised me) and fell unconscious promptly. Around this time, a new band of foes emerged from below deck. Further diplomacy rapidly degraded and all but one proceeded to attack the vanguards. The last retreated back below deck, which Makaan predicted was going to try and "scuttle the ship". I admit, I didn't really know what scuttling was (isn't that a platter or a lid on an opening or a lil' scamper run?), so I proceeded to engage my spiritual breath and let it lift me like the wind. I raced below deck, saw the final pirate threatening to drop an oil lamp, and I thwacked his forearm to force the lamp's release. I caught the lamp on the end of my quarterstaff and played a little keep away. Makaan ended that game quite swiftly by severing the pirate's arms seconds later. With the ship intact, all but two pirates slaughtered (I revived the prior unconscious and convinced him to subtly jump overboard and get to safety), we had an unfortunate realization: there was no imminent reason for us to actually come to this ship and kill the crew. I didn't participate in the death dealing, I admit, but I worry about my friends. They rapidly descended into a violent, harsh mindset of kill or be killed without (in my opinion) appropriate attempts to apply merciful and compassionate methods. We may not be the most charming folks, but surely there could have been other means. Makaan and Avindir discovered a journal of Mad Eye, the two manifests (including the one that was fraudulent), and thus we reported the unethical and piratical practices of the crew. We handed over the ship (we had no way of manning a ship or maintaining it), were promised a reward in the morning, then retreated to the Comfort Rose. While Caeled was unavailable (he should have his personal hours after a day of work), we still ordered a laundering service and put on our secondary travel clothes. With a refocused intent, we proceeded to prepare for the Golden Touch. According to the front-house attendant, the Golden Touch was a gaudy and fae-themed bathhouse that was a pathetic rival to the Comfort Rose. I looked at Calliope and realized that we both would be out of place or uncomfortable in such an establishment, but the mission comes before our aversions. The vanguards prepared themselves and we went to the Golden Touch. It was not a particularly large establishment. I admit, I expected more. The courtyard was (as predicted) gaudy, with nymph-statue fountains. However, when passing by one, my Refusal of Shadow allowed me to tell that there was an ugly, man-like winged gremlin of some sort perched on one of the fountains watching us. I tried to inform Avindir by drawing it (I was quite proud of how I didn't need to look at the page and could be more subtle), which he later identified as an imp (a kind of fiendish spirit; an open for what was to come). The bathhouse interior had three small baths, two attendants, and a few citizens. Avindir and Calliope distracted the attendants by asking for a massage, so Makaan decided to take a bath. His sister remained as a "bodyguard", so I looked for more invisible gremlins but found none. Makaan took a proper soak, which then coincided with Avindir emerging with intent to bribe his attendant multiple platinum coins for information and to join Calliope. When he entered her room, her attendant left and was quite uncomfortable. They were in there for a while, and I had no idea what was going on. Avindir's cat Kipi alerted me to go into the room, so I just did. When I entered, they were emerging from a large doorway in the wall and let us know there was a secret passage. Didn't seem so secret to me, but I'm sure it was very hard to find. After a bit of whiffling around, we retreated to the street to strategize. I informed more clearly that, yes, there was at least one invisible spying gremlin (now informed as an imp) watching the bathhouse, so we had to be smart. After a few proposals, we decided to try and bribe the attendants to leave us in the bathhouse when they locked up (without actually locking). The attendants were apathetic enough to allow it, so we now had free reign. The secret passage was a lot grimmer than expected. We descended down stairs into a body of stillwater and excrement, which ended up being the most comfortable part of the secret passages we were to find. The passage lead us to a room with three doors intricately carved. The first was a figure who had, instead of hands, daggers or swords; we emerged from this door. The second was a figure with a sword and hammer dripping with the viscera and blood of enemies. The third was a figure cloaked heavily and obscured by their robes. According to Avindir, these were icons of Batis, Vulgan, and Quorin respectively. The corruption of my gods into such vulgar icons was, to understate, upsetting to me. This was clearly a cult of some sort (likely the one we were warned about in the village leading up to the city) profaning these chaos lords. We first explored a passage without a door, which lead to an altar with human intestines and viscera and remains sacrificed on it in front of a tapestry depicting mass violence. Around the corner was the bloated, fetid corpse of a poor human. Again, I was so deeply offended by the profanity I was witnessing. Sacrificing sentient lives? How vile. We went through the southern door next (Vulgan's), which had a few disgusting cultists try to ambush us (and dramatically fail). It was short work to put them down, but again I had not taken a life. I prayed (admittingly with hesitation) for mercy after their death; I surely felt little mercy in their lives. Avindir found some valuable spellbooks of spellcraft for his spellwork, then we went through the Quorin the Betrayer's door. When we descended down the stairs, we heard echoing through the sewer-like tunnels the sound of mirthful people and a single pained being; likely torture. How active was this space?

Fallean Impressions

After another difficult sleep, I went to watch my cohorts contest themselves against Quiet Snow. Frankly, we weren't terribly assertive. Makaan struggled in the mud wrestle, Avindir tried to hold himself in a drunken debate, and Calliope also drank then tried to dance (with an impressive fumble). When it was my turn, I went across their nimble and acrobatic course. I thought he was to observe how well I did, but he instead chose to race me. I'm quite nimble and speedy beyond what my frame tells, so I was feeling a certain amount of confidence. However, after seeing how he soundly asserted himself over my allies, I felt worried. I cleared my mind of self-doubts and uncertainties of an unknown future. I focused on the physicality of the task and resolved to not use my soul's breath to lift me to heights, for Quick Snow wouldn't either. To my pride, I was faster and went farther than he did! This felt odd to me, though. Why wrestle with us, give us drinks, watch us dance, debate us, and race us? What was the true point? I asked this of him, and he shared with me the insights he gleaned of our characters. Makaan was single-minded and focused, but when distracted he fell. Avindir was an intellectual unburdened by hubris or cowardice. Calliope was unsure, nervous, and uncertain of her place here, so she wouldn't reveal her true potential. Finally, I was confidence, assured, and knowing of my capabilities. He was looking for (with Leosin) a group of people who were dedicated and driven by purposes against the Dark Cult. The tyranny of the Dreamer was a subtle beast and he didn't want any associates who would shy away from the risks involved. That evening, I had the counsel of Leosin, who is the closest access I have to a master this far from Lake Ulmarog. I explained to him my supersensory experience to the best of my limited ability. He kindly confirmed my suspicions and named it a naohaih lyma okoidao, or "soul's refusal of the darkest shadow" in the common tongue (with some poetic liberties). It is a phenomenon that rarely happens when a soul barely survives death without any form of divine necromancy or resurrection miracles or some other mystical whoodewhoos I don't understand. It seems I qualified and my soul rebelled against the incoming death enough to have this second sight. Beyond this, though, he gave me wisdom. "It places a heavy burden on the practitioner, providing insight into themselves and others that would be otherwise imperceptible. Your qi is not yet ready to fix all the problems that you will be able to detect in others. Diseases that have yet to manifest visibly, complications inside the body, and so on. How do you tell someone that something no one but you can see is killing them, but you have no way to help? Even when you have a way to help, how will you convince someone they need it if they do not realize the problem?" I was silent after this. I didn't think of the moral responsibilities such a sight would weigh upon me. He continued further. "The foot you placed in the realms of the dead awoke your spirit to a new perception and opened a third eye. That is a blessing, but we are taught that Thuses is not one to bless without equally cursing. Dealing with that curse will take patience and effort. That pain you cannot escape or relieve is not a piece of metal slowly making its way to your heart the more you try to heal it. It is the reminder from death of its hand. You would not be able to perceive in this third way without its cold presence. However, cold would be meaningless without warmth, and it is through the use of this ability of death and darkness to bring love and compassion that we find balance. It requires one to touch death personally to learn it intimately." It seems this discomfort and pain I've felt every moment since the cave is permanent and the cost of the sight. I was relieved that I wasn't plagued with a shard of metal, infection, or a broken meridian. However, I felt a sense of dread when facing my future. For the rest of my existence, I would have this pain? He offered to help me center myself with a few disciples by going through some spars, forms, and exercises. I gratefully accepted and thanked him for his wisdom and his kindness. After the forms, Quick Snow and Leosin gathered the vanguards (me included) to inform us of an assigned mission for us. The abandoned ravine camp was due to arrive in Fallean in over a week's time. We were to wait in the city for their arrival, then follow the money to whoever was supporting them and, thus, funding the cult. I was told of the Comfort Rose and how it served as a Mercy Lodge safehouse, a contact for us, and how Zilry Vov would be an equipper for our trials near the port. We also were told about O'Harron's Grove, a druidic circle from Scorland that (while typically insular) was concerned of the consequences of a strengthening cult. I thanked them for the opportunity to help the world, then retired to my room for whatever rest I could find. ------ The next morn, I woke with a purpose and drive. I had forged my crucible in the fires of conflict, and I had achieved so much so quickly in the world outside monastery walls. I may received a divine benediction twinned with its divine malediction, and I may struggle to filter what my third eye is seeing, but I know that the best way for me to learn control and achieve is to face reality. I have a mission. I collected our newly bought giant goats (mine is named Auwaon, which is Terran for fuzzy), helped collect supplies, and participated in the final debrief. We were told that our mission is to truly trace the money to its final destination, wherever it may lead us. This could mean more than just the city, or even the nation of Umenor. In addition, we learned more of Fallean. It seemed to be a bit of a corrupt port town with swindlers and dirty coppers and more. Frankly, it sounded like my kind of town. We were advised not to bring our goats to the city proper, so a few squires would accompany us so they could escort our mounts back to the safety of Carangoroth. In addition, we were advised to find a means to disguise ourselves and were given false travel documents for entry and exits. I looked over my new and false identity of Holodao, a raven-feathered 26 year old kenku. Due to my new age, I would only be able to communicate with a vulgar tongue, so it would be best for me to remain silent as much as possible or to only mimic phrases back at people. Fine by me -- I'm not great at conversation to begin with. Calliope had the identification of Ariadani Brightwater, a young scion of a loving family. Avindir Covenblower had the identity of Ace Deckart, an Umenor detective and investigator. Makaan had the identity of Viriak Slysmasher Ogolukate, a goliath of wandering sort. Very well, we were newly identified, and so I purchased feather dye from the lodge to temporarily darken my beautiful, luscious feathers. A shame; I worked very hard on their sheen. We gathered our things, collected ourselves, then ventured forth. ------ On the first night of travel, I pondered my fortunes. I wonder if the divine scales of Aeoton decided to intervene on me. I was well-off for forging my crucible and growing so quickly. Maybe my touch with death was the cost for such luck? Perhaps Aeoton chose to play a game with me? I've not the ear of a god nor desire to have their conversation, so I may never know. ------ On the third day of travel, we were fortunate for the good weather. We passed by a farm, where two young minotaur calves watched our passing caravan and called to us for stories of the road. The vanguards chose to comply, then the matron of the farm welcomed us to slumber that evening in their barn in exchange for stories and news. We then met them proper. Dodoron was the minotaur father and a stout man of hard-work. Raasza was the minotaur monther and a confident woman of resolute will. There were five calves in total; Dorradak was the eldest male, followed by Tinnian the boy, followed by Vifa the eldest female, followed by Henura the middle girl, then finally followed by Sirinatta the youngest girl. They served us a delightful meal of dandelion and violet tea with mulled nettle ale as an option and a main dish of herb dumplings in beet and carrot soup. I did ever so miss minotaur cooking; the minotaur stall in the market was one of my favorite eateries back home. We finished the meal with white cheese and spiced crusty bread. The group shared stories of encounters of the road and warnings of dangers and threats from the cult. Dodoron promised that he would care for his family and, if needed, flee their home to save their children. We slept soundly as a group, but again I felt as though my slumber was difficult. ------ On day four, we awoke to rain. It was strange, being in rain with the Refusal of Shadow. I can sense every raindrop. It is like the air was permeated by thin pillars of water, echoing past me. I could see past it with great clarity, but it was such an unnerving feeling. For those whom my journals may comfort in this journey, I could only describe it like sand landing lightly on my skin. I could feel the grains, and their presence didn't hide grains further down a limb. The entire experience felt distracting and almost itchy at first. I had to center myself intensely that morning. I needed to be functional for the vanguards. And truly, I needed to be functional for the farm that shared with us their sacred hospitality. For lo! Dodoron told us that a beast attacked their livestock. We followed and witnessed what were tracks of a wyvern. A mysterious draconic beast, but Avindir remained silent on its nature, so it must not be a terrible foe. We tracked it to a small clearing where it was devouring a cow. With great speed, we struck it in ambush and began the hunt's climax. Makaan and I were the melee containment while Calliope and Avindir spread around to avoid tight groupings. Makaan's sister even joined us in the fray. It tried to flee our strikes, but I locked it down with a precise blow of my staff. It tried to take a bite out of Makaan, but he resisted its poisons (apparently it was highly venomous). After Makaan's sister dealt the final blow, Avindir harvested the toxin from its stinger, Calliope kept the stinger for a possible blade, and I took a tooth out of Makaan's shoulder for a souvenir. I mended Makaan's injuries; don't worry about that. ------ On day five, we reached a village in the midst of a drizzle and light mist. It wasn't particularly active this day, so we stopped by the tavern to work on getting used to our new fictitious identities. We met a man who claimed to be an important grifter in the Fallean scene back in his youth. He left the hustle of his kingpin role in a neighborhood under a local thieves' guild known as "The Nest". There was a spiking assault and violent crime rate in the area, which encouraged his emigration from the city and to this village. According to him, there was a cult of wanton murder and violence. Perhaps there were practitioners of the darker aspects of Batis? ------ Finally, we reached Fallean. At this point, we were well-equipped with our new personas and eager to try them out. The Order of Metal squires wished us well on our mission before beginning their escort back to Carangoroth. We waited at the gate where, not to my surprise, an Umenor guard chose my cohorts and myself for a "random selection" for more rigorous screening. Makaan-Viriak played the kenku marginalization card and accused the guard of being prejudiced for seeing a raven-feathered kenku at the gates, which I gleefully backed him up with. The rest of our merry band began to chastise the man for his prejudice and even noted the conspicuous passing of a shady fellow when we were being unreasonably detained. Ultimately, though, it was clear that the guard was assessing us for valuables and goods. Avindir-Ace's vial of toxin was apparently highly valuable and the guard was quite interested. Avindir-Ace wove a tale of us tracking illegal wyvern breeders and the vial was meant to be a means for gaining clout for infiltration into their circle. We were let through, which prompted me to offer to hide goods on my person. I'm comfortable in this kind of seedy settlement, so I knew where to hide small goods on my person to avoid the curious eyes and hands of passerby citizens. I ended up collecting the coinpurses, flutes, rings, and vials of the vanguard stash and hid them tightly in the folds of my clothes. We elected to travel to the Comfort Rose, a location opposite in the walls of the city. While walking there, I couldn't help but notice how truly unsanitary the city felt. The air was thick with what must have been some form of miasma. There was the unmistakable stench of labor, refuse, fish, and the salt breeze. Nonetheless, we made it to the Comfort Rose without any concern. When we entered, the proprietor Theladrial greeted us. She was a stately elven woman who radiated the intent of quality business and no funny business. This was a neutral establishment in the city; a bathhouse for discourse and meetings with no strong affiliation with the upper or lower factions of city politics and society. The attendants were well trained in the arts of comfort and hospitality and, when I began my Mercy Lodge greeting, she swiftly passed me along to another. This is the point where I met Caeled Alean, a male half-elf. I knew him to be half-elven due to his slightly pointed ears (of which I could 'see' under his hair -- maybe this Refusal of Shadow would truly help me detect the various ancestral factions and tribes the outside world cares about so deeply). However, the rest of his presence told another story. He was tall (taller than most human men), broad (broader than most human men), and had vibrant red-gold hair. His eyes were a piercing blue of morning sky, his chest (visible between the folds of his attendant robe) covered in the same red-gold hair as his head, and his demeanor most pleasant. Truly, this is the kind of man whom I could see within the commune back home! Too many men outside of the commune seem to be in favor of drab, boring hues. This man's vibrancy was a true testament to his masculine nature. He was my contact and my connection to the Mercy Lodge during my tenure in the city. I performed a game of introduction over Dragonchess in a small chamber, which allowed us both to confirm our mutual allegiance to the lodge. It turned out that the Comfort Rose was (subtly) allied with the lodge in many ways, and thus we gained access to a safehouse to hide in and work from. It wasn't nearly luxurious as the baths with their marble and silks would have let us believe. Instead, it was in the basement, moist, warm, and a bit uncomfortable. Perfect for our tasks -- too many comforts would breed lax discipline. Caeled Alean informed us of a few locations in the city and we shared with him our mission. He promised us to aid in our tasks, to pull upon his network of contacts, and to watch for newcomers from the gates who matched the description of the campdwellers. Meanwhile, he offered me three letters in response to those I sent out in Carangoroth a week past. According to my cantor, auspicious moons seemed to be fairly common. His best guesses were the full moon, new moon, and crescent moons as regular occurances; blood moons or eclipses; hunter moons; and finally harvest moons. Essentially. there were four moons a month and perhaps a dozen moons over each year that could be "auspicious" for a birth. Typically, the blood moons were the most auspicious. The overwhelming number of possibilities didn't simplify our calendar greatly to help identify Calliope's pre-abduction self, so this wasn't terribly useful. Speaking of not terribly useful, the Cartographer's Guild replied. Master Pyh of the Cartographers informed me that he produced the map from a particularly vivid and wonderful dream of his. No one knew what the map described. Finally, my monastery replied. They have taken my transcribed journals as poorly formatted reports and archived it after review. I wholly welcomed any and all thoughts my masters had for me, and there were a few. Many of the pieces of advice and wisdom aligned with what Leosin earlier told me. My Refusal of Shadow is indeed a rare technique and not one the order advises its disciples to try and obtain. It is highly dangerous to try and obtain and not at all guaranteed even if everything goes according to plan. Truly, a fortune was upon me for the opportunity to gain a benediction and malediction paired for my experience. In addition, there were passages about the nature of past pain, healing, and growing beyond it. I will try to meditate upon these thoughts (as I have been trained to do). In addition, my funds have been disseminated as I planned (one part to the monastery, one to the lodge, one to my nation, and one to my family). After I disseminated the knowledge (however sparse) from the letters to the vanguards, we went out to sell the wyvern poison and distribute its value fairly amongst the vanguards. With some clever discourse, Avindir sold it for 105 platinum coins of the realm, which meant each of us gained 25 platinum coins and we reserved the remaining 5 for the party funds. Avindir proceeded to buy some scrolls or gold dust or whatnots for his wizardly tasks, then we returned to the Comfort Rose. There, I dutifully sent back 100 total gold pieces worth of wealth to my family, my monastery, my commune, and my lodge. ------ I slept more soundly than I thought I would in the safehouse. I think my daily meditations are working to help control my gift. Caeled heavily advised us to speak to an archivist at Blo Rhaimsol as a lead for Zaul Krieg, the missing mentor of Therezia (Makaan's sister). She gambled frequently at the Secret Lady and was likely there presently. We promptly equipped our disguises and went to the den. There, many of my cohorts procured a free drink as I tried to sense the room as an exercise. In preparation, I came with only 15 gold and 50 silver coins to my name. After all, I didn't want to risk losing my significant wealth. We were informed the gamblers were upstairs, so we climbed the stairs to a bit of a busy room. I put myself near the corner with a halfling herbalist and stood back to let my more charming cohorts confront the archivist. Before we could do so meaninfully, ruffians of a disgusting sort ascended the stairs and confronted us all.

On the Road to Carangoroth

My night was restless, and I remember not what I dreamed. I woke up feeling like I took a dip in Lake Ulmarog in the middle of winter -- my body shivered with icy cold. I am convinced that there is something left in me from the previous evening's dance with death. I felt an awareness of my body's insides more keenly than ever before, and that awareness seemed to bleed outward, like a leak of my soul saturating the area around my steps. Morning introspections were interrupted quite rapidly by Avindir's alarum of the sable dragon eggs hatching. We hurried over (with Calliope and Makaan lagging behind due to their armor) to listen to the dragonlings devour each other and their shells. After the scuffle in the pit, Avindir was convinced a single dragon remained. I could barely see its shiny malachite scales behind a pillar, so I maneuvered to better spy it. Avindir proceeded to try and persuade it to listen to us. I tried encouraging Avindir to be more assertive and authoritative, for my understanding of a freshly born dragonling's temperament requires a strong, disciplinary hand. As we feared, and possibly expected, the dragonling did not seem receptive. Thus, we chose to end its threat to the area as an invasive species. I leapt into the pit and chased it down. In a strange experience, the sensation of my proprioception leaking outside of my self proved more useful than expected. Even in the dark, which I know I struggle to see in during the best of times, I knew where each pebble and pillar and dragonling was around me. A fascinating sensation, one of which I would have explored more fervently if I wasn't at the moment in melee with a dragon. I tried to rapidly strike it down, but the dragonling was more resiliant than I hoped. It spat vile acid at me, which I nimbly dodged mostly out of the way. It still struck my left arm and leg through the clothes and I still feel the ghost of the acid eating at my flesh. I began to push my medicinal qi and my medicines at it as soon as I could, which left an opening for it to retreat from me. Luckily, Makaan stabbed his shield into the back of their head, severing the spine and ending the life. We harvested what we could from them as signs of the dragonlings taken care of (horns, scales, and so on), and then we proceeded to bury their bodies outside of the cave. Even though they were aligned as foes against us, dragons are still fantastic beings of might and magic. They deserve respect and their deaths are a loss for the world. Hopefully, if we are forced to take action against dragons in the future, it is because their lives are more so a blight. I prayed to Thuses for mercy on the three dragonling's lives and for Zindraaldein to take their fledgling souls under his platinum wings. Hopefully, they will find a peace in the next life they seemed intent on breaking in this one. After the funeral, I apologized to the vanguards for my poor performance of late. I regressed to roles assumed by the monastic training I received and failed to communicate my strategies and expectations to my peers. This, in turn, almost cost us our lives, and I feel a crippling weight from my failure. After preparing the horses, having breakfast, and performing morning rites, we proceeded on the road to Carangoroth. ------ I was not an attentive sentry today. Every time I breath, I feel as though my innards aren't position right. It's like an intestine's fold is not pleated right, or the stomach was pushed too far left, or my diaphragm catches on a shard of something embedded in me from the axe that almost cleaved me in two. I have been trying to push my soul's breath into my body, purging any injury my enhanced sensations tell me are there, but they evade me like an itch. It's almost like every small wound I mend inside of me begets two more elsewhere. This itch in my gut, this scratch in my core, it distracted. I didn't notice the riders over the hill, of which Makaan spied and described as members of the Order of Metal. We decided to hail them as fellow travelers and potential allies, and thus we met them around their camp. There was the high elf Vidan Cullen, the only male in the party; shadow elf Holcyn Thela; tiefling Sapiona; gnome Fenhanna; and mountain dwarf Inga. I was earnestly surprised to see such a motley crew -- I can't recall any tiefling I've met outside of books, nor a gnome ever visiting the commune. They were en route to Timberpass to help with the recovery, security, and scouting. We shared our insights, informed them of the abandoned camp with the dragon's cave, and other features we found. In turn, they informed us that Leosin safely made it to Carangoroth. They bid us safe journey, and we parted ways. ------ Again, my mind was focused on the wounds inside of me. After days of trying to patch any perceived injury, I am growing more and more convinced that my ailment may not be a physical one, but a spiritual one. It might be why my soul's eye can leak forth into the space around me. The axe cut into the prime meridian between maesay and payha. While divine magic hastily put me back together, and my spiritual breath flows still, I fear my crucible suffered from the trauma. Maesay is supposed to be the bridge between the spiritual and material, after all. If its connection to the balancing mote of payha (which filters mercy, severity, and the infinite light into the world) was damaged, then maybe the infinite light aylau is leaking out of my crucible without control. Maybe this is a secret technique because my toes touched the silver grains of the road to death. I recalled a lesson from my masters about various spiritual techniques we could develop. Aside from leaping great heights (which I do enjoy), alacrity, medicinal qi, maleficent qi, and more, there was a rare technique that was briefly talked about. They said that some monks, after seeing the darkness cast by Thuses, had their souls rebel against the blindness and try to grow against it. When the umbra past, they were able to perceive the world immediately around them, even if blinded or illusions weaved. It was a technique few should ever search to gain due to the danger of Thuses's umbra, and I fear I accidentally achieved such a state. This is quite rare and, ordinarily, I would rejoice about developing such a technique without spiritual guidance of a master. Instead, I find myself feeling an emotional void when I think upon it. While the ability to tell that Calliope is fiddling with her pan flute when my eyes are closed is quite useful, I do not know if the cost was worth it. If Thuses, lord of the darkness, gifted this to me, what was taken in turn? We led our horses and ponies on foot through a ruined village. I was pondering this implication when my cohorts leapt into battle. I knew not what was going on until I saw a few goblins running towards us. Avindir thrust his book out, dust of some sort fell out of the pages, and I felt magics lift me up. Before I knew it, I grew to over ten feet tall! I quickly tried to take care of the few goblins in range to stop them from skewering the vanguards, then knocked out one archer and frightened the other. The goblins soon surrendered after Makaan also enlarged himself with his runic might. It turned out they worked for some sort of boss, but we let them go with advice to turn their lives around. ------ Another day following another night of forgotten but unsettling dreams, and I believe my crucible has largely been repaired. I can feel my meridians flowing strongly, reinforced by daily meditation and the residue of Calliope's blessing of the moon. However, something still feels wrong inside of me. Maybe I'm just aware of how my stomach churns in more detail, like being told that each swallow sounds in your ear and you then cannot unhear it. This supersensory ability of mine might just be overeager; it deserves to be trained to fine control like the rest of me. We stumbled on a flooded mine, which had some sort of enchanted consecrated water. I thought it might have been a holy spring that was greedily harvested, but others informed me that the consecration was likely placed after the mine. I took a waterskin full of the water, and then we learned the mine was likely of dwarven influence with water deity iconography and some elven spiritual usurper iconography. ------ We arrived at Carangoroth, finally! It was ten days of travel, distraction, and pain. My gut is feeling worse now, like there really might have been something left behind from the axe and my body is containing it as best it can. I cannot perceive it; how small it must be. We passed through the gate, but they seemed to be a bit more at attention than I expected. We traveled through the market square, saw many a metal and smithcraft shop, and were marveling at the sights. The air was acrid and full of the scent of a city and I feel as though I could easily be overwhelmed with my new supersensory ability. Luckily, a guard pointed us towards the Wooden Goat, an inn the Order of Metal claimed as their local branch of service. Makaan seemed surprised they didn't have a keep or more established seat of power, but this made sense to me. There are only so many buildings within a walled city and elven cities are old. The Wooden Goat wasn't hard to find and I had fun traveling through alleyways again. I missed urban settings, but this was clearly not a kenku commune. I saw so many folks of so many ancestries here, with sounds and scents and sights unfamiliar. I know not the rules of the gutterstreets. When at the Wooden Goat, we were introduced to an attendant who brought forth Leosin. He was absolutely looking better than we last saw him at Timberpass, which is a blessing truly. I tried signaling to him that I could use some guidance to handle my ailment, which I believe he received. He sent me with a squire to lodge the horses in a stable, then I returned in time to have us introduced to Quiet Snow. Quiet Snow was a large, charming, and handsome Tabaxi with lynx-like characteristics (especially those ears). He seemed quite excited to meet us and wanted to gauge our capabilities in a fair duel. A reasonable request; I've long seen reputations bloat when passed from mouth to mouth beyond the capabilities of the original target. Makaan seemed a mite offended. Maybe goliath society treats face differently? Before the exploration of capabilities, we were told to relax and recollect supplies. With the funds given to us from Leosin and our Timberpass earnings, we gathered new supplies. I finally obtained my own herbalism kit and, I must say, elven herbalism kits are quite nice. I also bought three healer kits and a small lyre. Maybe music could help free my soul from this blight. Leosin guided me separately to a small lodge entry, which was hidden away in a building. There, I sent 140 gold back home -- 35 each to the commune, my family, the monastery, and the lodge itself. This is about 40% of my earnings, which feels right to me. I am now an adventurer, after all. It is my duty to support the people who enabled me to get so far! I also wrote letters for home. To my cantor, I wrote asking about auspicious moons in the perspective of birthdays for Calliope. To the cartographer's guild, I wrote asking about the strange kenku map that Avindir had. To my monastery, I transcribed my journal of thoughts and experiences. This would allow my memories to be preserved if I am unable to make it back and add my voice to our song. In addition, they would want to know my journey and celebrate in the forging of my crucible. I've not slept a sound night in well over a week. I hope tonight is far more peaceful knowing that I have a senior monk nearby to help me.

Brush with Death in a Cave of Dragons

We tried to lure Azurewrath out of his entrenched location, but I figured it was far-fetched. Mockery, taunting, and challenging honor seemed to unmove him from around the corner of the cave. I was tasked with sneaking around and taking a peak, where I saw drakes and a few people and the large draconian beasty man. This was going to be difficult; he was not alone. I reported these findings to the vanguards and our strategy was thus: Makaan and I would, from the darkness, take a few shots with arrows at the enemy group. This should lure them back towards us, where we'd be more strategically placed. Makaan and I have experience trading places in this combat, like we did at the autumn temple in Timberpass with the patrolling reavers. Next, Makaan and I would try to keep them in a tight spot for Avindir the mage and Calliope the priest to hex and smite respectively. This was a tight formation, but I fear it was poorly communicated. Battle rarely ever follow dreams, and I feel convinced that Vulgan, Batis, and Aeoton were mocking us this evening. Calliope broke rank, or was unaware of the rank, and chose to join us with the "pot shots"; this meant our swapping formation was out of step and Makaan was left exposed. Swiftly, drakes and axe-wielding warriors surrounded him and Calliope. Makaan valiantly tried to hold them off, but he was taking blows left and right. Any attempts I made to punish their positions and strike was met with failure; I could not land a solid hit. When Azurewrath joined the melee, he proved overwhelming to our already overwhelmed position. Makaan had no room to reach into the giant magic, Calliope had no step to retreat, and I was rapidly being bit down to size from the drakes. Makaan fell back a bit, only for Azurewrath to fly overhead and block his path. Their dance allowed me to be surrounded and I took a mortal blow. I don't know how long I was down; I just remember a splash of a potion landing on my face to return me to consciousness. The only sight I remember was a warrior heaving a great axe into my torso. The sound it made, the cold I felt, and the burning inside me is indescribable. I felt the embrace of Quorin's oblivion creep into my sight and heard the cries of Thuses's ravens herald my arrival. A silvery flash of moonlight filled my being, quickly knitting me back together. It hurt, icy in a way I've never felt before. Calliope's prayer was quick, minor, but enough to get me ambulatory. I got up and found Azurewrath's ashes scattered in a large space, a warrior being consumed by what are apparently stirges, and the warrior who cleaved me almost in two ready to give up. I shouted at him to get out of here, then saw Makaan bleeding out. I don't know if my sanguine pool sapped my spiritual force, but I put as much of it as I could into Makaan to try and stabilize him. With all of us able to walk, we retreated back up the rocky ledge and watched the stirges fall, the drakes slink behind the heel of the remaining warrior, and our path deeper into the cave unblocked. I almost died this evening. My soul might have touched a toe on the final road. I need to spend time to reflect upon this. I swear I can still feel the bite of the axe inside of me. I never felt such an invasion into my body like that before. I think I must be shocked by the experience, for my thoughts circle each other in this time. ------ We found the kitchen, treasure, and a clutch of eggs. The kitchen was filled with blood and stench, nothing new there. The treasure included silken hand wraps with Auran prayers to the sky, a mithril pan flute dedicated to an elven usurper spirit of the moon, and an obsidian warhammer glowing with the memory of molten earth. All in all, fitting for a cave of dragons. The clutch of eggs was more divisive in the group. We found a chamber with three black dragon eggs, a day or so from hatching. Dragons are magical, intelligent, and dangerous beings, with black dragons having a reputation of being exceptionally vile and cruel temperament. Makaan, unsurprisingly, wanted to destroy the eggs before they hatched. He saw their potential for evil as justification. Avindir, also unsurprisingly, wanted to try and rear the three dragons. He loves dragonkind and wouldn't want to see unborn dragons needlessly destroyed. I was reminded of a lesson Master Sopai gave us about morality. We, instinctively, label something as "good" or "evil" based on its qualities. If a drunken man were to swing a sword at an innocent person and strike them, then it is fair to say the blow is "evil" in this dichotomy. Now, is the act of the swinging before the blow evil? Almost certainly it will connect, and the connection is an evil event, so it can be safe to say the action immediately leading up to evil carries some of its future event's morality. But what if they were arguing before the swing; would the argument be evil? Would the drinking before the argument be evil? How far prior in the chain of causality, the web of fate and logos, can we trace evil to an action? And when we are seeing these early events, how certain must we be before we can intervene with a grim hand to prevent evil? How confident must we be when we believe evil will happen? Makaan has a code of ethics firmly rooted in preventative action. I feel he is too severe in life, but I understand his position. Avindir is a more sheltered scholar and wants to believe in the majesty of dragons. Calliope didn't know much about that morality, but felt it wrong to kill unborn children for the potential cruelty they would unleash. I voiced a few of these lessons, proud of Master Sopai's voice in my own. After some heated ultimatums being drawn in sand and backing away from it, we agreed to let the eggs hatch and observe for one day. Likely, the three dragonlings would fight each other and only one would survive. Afterwards, we would take the surviving dragonling to the Order of Metal, where they could hopefully be more equipped to render judgment than our four unprepared and foolish selves. I assured Makaan that I was ready to help take down a dragonling if I felt it was a threat, but that I wasn't ready to condemn a possible being who had free will and agency for actions they haven't even thought of committing yet. I am afraid my position was foolish, but I cannot yet unshackle myself from the spiritual idealism I was raised in. I don't want to ever reach a point where the monks' lessons are discarded. In retrospect, my indecision in personal choice and repeating Master Sopai's lessons speaks to my own spiritual turmoil inside of me. I let the man who cleaved me go, no punishment. I hadn't the energy or the mind to enact anything. Was that right? He actively, purposefully, tried to kill me. He almost did. I almost died. I can still feel the axe in me. I know the divine blessings stabilized me, but I can feel how my gut isn't quite right, how it is slightly out of order. I have no more spiritual breath to purge these wounds deep within, nor do I know how many are physical and how many are echoes of the song of battle from earlier. I need to meditate upon this.

Return to the Ravine

Now that we have our team fully reconnected, we had to decide what the fate of our prisoner would be. After some wizardly discourse between them and Avindir, it was decided to set them loose upon the wilds. When Makaan said it was effectively a death sentence, the prisoner advocated for the punishment. According to them, it was a justified response to the kidnapping. Also, it turns out the dragonfolk was an old school chum of Avindir! What a small world. There was something about admiration of Avindir's independence too, but I was distracted by not really paying attention. I was given the dwarf's pony, named Clyte. I don't mind; ponies are more my size and tend to be agreeable to me. When I was befriending Clyte, Calliope and Avindir discovered that the ruins were of temple origins, dedicated to a human deity of battle, strength, and bears. That's neat; it might be why I was able to receive an omen from Thuses. Perhaps there is still some lingering hallowed ground? ------ Nonetheless, we had to hurry south towards the coast and the ravine camp of the cul;t. It took us four days, and I felt that we as a group were struggling during the trip. I, of course, was competent and consistent. I am, after all, a professional. ------ We found, on the second day of travel, a small farm with a single elderly human woman tilling the field. She was clearly struggling to do the task, and without any farm hands around, it was clear she wouldn't finish it. We gave our salutations and offered to help her out for the afternoon; we are not heartleass. Her name was Lifuth and her husband recently passed away. He was buried in a shallow grave, which was remedied by my cohorts. While they worked on the gravesite and the field, I tended to her. Her body was worn down by years of hard labor. I could *sense* with my qi that she was not long for this life. I offered to apply my masseur skills and help make her comfortable, but I knew that it was a mercy before the end. I've found that most people don't deserve to have their final breaths be labored and full of pain. With a silent prayer to Aen, lord of compassion; Ibris, lord of matrimony and life; and Thuses, lord of the dead, I beseeched the spheres to give her a kindness and mercy she shan't find on this realm. ------ On the fourth day of travel, we found corpses tied to posts. There were symbols and words (Draconic, I believe) carved upon their bodies. According to Avindir, they were some sort of warning. That evening, we took respite in a cave and I was first watch. As one of the members of the vanguard who saw into the dark the worst, it is reasonable that I would have a watch that was closest to the daylight. I heard the sound of a large cat, likely a predator, but it left us be. ------ On the fifth day, I awoke outside and performed by stretches and morning rites. It turns out that Avindir's watch was quite energetic. He showed an arrow with strange fletching; apparently a coatl's feather, likely molted. It was fired by a pair of orc hunters who advised against being here. We ignored the hunter's words of warning, packed up our camp, and proceeded to the ravine. It was very abandoned when we arrived. Cold fires, discarded tents, and detritus of a small army were left behind. I slinked into the shadows to be safe, as I am best at. While doing so, Makaan and Calliope tried to follow in my steps, but were less apt at it. They were found by the same two orc hunters, camping in front of the Cave of Ominous Warnings. They saw the two vanguard and decided it was time to leave. With no hunted prey in sight, it was clear that they dropped it off as food for someone in the area. We were not alone. There was some discussion of Calliope wanting the feathers or to go see the coatl or something of that sort, but the orcs made it clear that it was gifted to them from a sacred rite. I understand wanting to keep your cultural treasures close at hand and not viewed as a tourist's commodity. We proceeded into the cave, where I smelled sweat, musk, and heard ambiguous animal noises. When we entered, I saw peaking around columns some kobolds; they must have crafted the space. We proceeded to have a rousing fight, where cultists and kobolds assaulted us. They flung daggers at me, but I was too swift for their poor aims to track. Down the cave, some dragonfolk mage conjured a cloud of grotesque, putrid smoke. I was unable to truly fight in there, so I mostly stuck to the reserves as an enlarged Makaan took the charge. Once the cloud was dispelled, we were able to see the dragonfolk (apparently a woman?) and I landed a particularly striking blow on her, sending my qi rippling through her form. I was quite proud. As the party proceeded to loot and raze the room, I did my job and scouted the rear to ensure we weren't being ambushed. Aside from an over-inebriated cultist, I went back to the first room and saw a passage we'd yet explored. I slid down the rock wall, saw some very curious but unknown mushrooms, and then heard a band of kobolds approach. This made sense; there was no kitchen or cookery seen yet and we know that kobolds tend to be a servant caste in this organization. Surely the few kobolds we've encountered wouldn't be all there was, and we also knew that the hunters were supplying food. With cold, barren fires outside the cave, it made sense that there'd be more utility in this part. I retreated back up the ledge and signed to the cat that there were kobolds approaching. If Kipi was truly a familiar to Avindir, then surely they would be able to pass along the message. Well, it turns out they did, and Avindir showed up alone. I tried to gesture to hide and observe, but he chose instead to strike the kobolds with a blast of exploding force. Our presence detected, a new fight started. It did not go well. Avindir slid down a ramp, only to be grabbed by the mushrooms. I saw the ceiling in the next chamber littered with what appeared to be giant insect bat things, which did not bode well. Kobolds were flooding through the gap. I began to use resources and effort to keep Avindir safe until Makaan arrived, then focused on keeping him safe too. Avindir retreated back over the ledge, then we managed to put down the kobolds with a divinely conjured beam of silver light (from Calliope) and brute strength (from Makaan). Tired, injured, and frustrated at our lack of coordination, we heard the sounds of the giant draconic beastly being that killed the guard outside the Timberpass keep shout towards us. The violence for the day was far from over. Batis must be pleased.

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.

Moonlit Dream

When I went to sleep after a prayer to Narnisu, guardian of the night, I didn't expect the wonders I was to face. My dreams felt hazy, uncertain at first. Silvery mists, reflecting the hint of colors I could barely name. It was like bathing in tundra pearls, melted and pooling around the haze. Everything felt gossamer, delicate, and fantastical. I was weightless and formless in this space, until a word resonated through my very being. "Vnolp." That ... was unusual. The name meant nothing to me, and my mind as insubstantial as the space around me, I could recall nothing from my people's song for it. The incongruity of it seemed to bring me back together, like my physical self depended upon the absurd. What a curious thought it was. When I could truly see again, I found myself knee-deep in a marsh. Swamp? Bog? I've not the recollection of the cartographers and surveyers I escorted, I cannot speak to the land I sink within. Journeyman Rodih would hit me for such ignorance, and at this moment I would have let him. The waters seemed cool, the air humid, and I could see naught but the gossamer mist. That was, until shapes started to form. I felt a presence, like a predator swooping over me. My instincts told me to hide, to flee, and to stay frozen in place all at the same time. I am not one to let my instincts dictate my life, so I naturally resisted. That's when I saw whorls and shapes form out of the mists, and I saw a vision of my past I only heard of. My mother and sister were cresting over a hill, threadbear and starving and wounded. Their plumage was spotty and dull, caked with dust and mud. Blood stained their rags and I saw their bones pressing against their skin like there was nothing else there. I saw how small my sister was and I knew that the bundle my mother had on her back was me, barely born and starving with them. We were fleeing Scorland, horrors supposedly hounding after us and our trail of blood. I felt the overwhelmingly heavy weight of my mother's fear and my sister's despair. I understood in this moment the suffering they faced in the wilds and the strength they must have had to keep walking forwards. A sound I couldn't hear caught my mother's ear. She whipped around, her eyes wide with fright, and urged my sister up the hill. They had to make it over. They just had to. My foreknowledge faded in the vision, and I only knew of their terror. The mists refused to show me what they saw, but I knew us to be marked by it. We were but prey. That is, until we reached the summit. The shapes in the gossamer haze showed me a village near a lake a few miles out, a single ray of pearlescent sunlight guiding us towards sanctuary. This was our commune, our safe harbor. And over this hill, my mother stepped into the commune's territory. As if summoned by her bravery, a silhouette arrived. This, I feel, was something the mists couldn't resolve. A hole in the haze, crackling at its boundaries approached her. When it spoke, a deafening silence came forth. It turned to face the horrors she fled from, and with a vacuous bark, abjured it. I know not what this void of a being was, but my mother felt only hope and love for it. What would have unnerved me instead comforted my family and, with a gesture, brought her another step towards sanctuary. The haze struggled at this point, fraying and falling apart. It couldn't hide the final sensation in my sister's heart, though. Pure, innocent hope. ------ As the haze reformed into a shapeless mass, I felt the burning of overwhelming emotion fill my chest. I knew my mother's tale, of her trials in the wilds. Her fear and her pain burned at her soul every night. I grew up in these embers, and I never truly saw the pyre they spread from. This was a rare chance to truly empathize with what she felt in those dark days, and I felt sorrow and grief. More importantly, I felt shame for how I treated my mother in my youth. She sacrificed so much for me, and yet I dismissed it. Before I could reflect upon my relationship with her, I felt the presence of predatory terror fly over me again. I looked heavensward and I saw a new silhouette, one of shadow and indistinct form. Ominous, but its wake rippled more of the haze, and new shapes into a new past revealed themselves to me. ------ Makaan was a young, small goliath child. His skin bore a destiny, as did all of his kind. When the seers gazed upon his markings, they foretold only omens, and thus the child that did nothing wrong was shunned. Even here, in an orphanage of children abandoned or lost, he was separate. There was a pact of mutual silence and division between himself and his never-family. That is, until the half-elf half-yotunn girl bridged this gap and made the choice to befriend him. Young Makaan, who never knew the warmth of love, embraced the companionship's glow. ------ This vision faded like before, becoming onto the mist it was from. I felt the fear and dread the young Makaan lived every day in, and I felt more of the burning emotion swelling within me. Before I could process this new wave of understanding, once again the shadow swooped. I looked for more details, but the haze concealed its nature again. And again, shapes formed. ------ Calliope fled through the dark forest. Needles of pine and bone cracked under her hoof as she leapt between the slender trunks and mushrooms in the glen. Two beings hunted her: the first was known and its territory bound. She knew not to step in those shadows. The second was a predator, tracking her and chasing her down upon nightmarish horseback. This second pursued her in the shadowed dusk of the dark woods. Calliope fled into a cave, her fear outweighing any hope she had of safety. She knew not what lied within the blackened stone and lichen, but it must be safer than The Rider of Raven Armor. She was cold, hungry, and exhausted. Sleep, any sleep, any sanctuary would be welcomed at this point. As if a miracle laid before her, she found a feast within the cave. Roasted pheasant, succulent potatoes, steaming vegetables. The scent and sight overwhelmed her, and she ravenously consumed. Her focus was entirely upon the sensation of her empty self being filled with warmth and life once again, until the glamour upon the food faded to reveal the humanoid she was consuming. I knew not what happened next, for my eyes were shut in terror. But I heard crying, and this vision too passed. ------ When the mists settled, I saw Calliope collapsed in the bog, overwhelmed by what she saw. I saw Makaan, stoic and stony as ever. And I knew at this moment that I was in a magicked web of illusion or enchantment. The lectures of my teachers rushed at me, their faces formed of mist and their words washing indistinctly over my mind. I was a typical student in my youth, but I held no discipline nor respect for lessons of magics and mystical dangers. I couldn't form a concrete understanding of what was happening to me under the tumult of their incomplete lessons. I thought hard, and I thought deeply. This is clearly some sort of dream-like place, illusory and enchanting. There were few factions of beings I could think of that would do such a thing. The Gloaming ones might; they lived in the shadows and spun of shadow stuff (maybe?). The ravensfolk of the dead, harbingers of final memory and servants to the Raven Queen? But that would imply that we were dead, and I didn't feel like I was. Now, in retrospect, how could I know that? What does death feel like? This left me with the Gloaming ones, or maybe a wizard. Avindir was nowhere to be seen, so it might be he, but I doubted his magical prowess would extend this far. In either case, self-awareness and a calmness of mind would be crucial to surviving the encounter with foreign, unwelcomed magicks. With steel resolve in my chest, I took a breath of the marshy air and focused on my surroundings. Calliope was submerged partially in the quagmire of memory and thought around us, holding what appeared to be a water cat or otter, who was gifting her a stone. I did not fully understand that sight, so I looked to Makaan. His portion of the marsh was rigid, frozen, and still, like it was trapped in a moment and he refused to let the waters brush against him. Curious. Calliope collected herself and it was almost like the mists around her flowed into her breath. The water cat seemed to bring her comfort, but its motions unsettled me. Maybe this was a simulacrum of a symbol of safety for her. Who am I to judge that, especially after the possibly misleading glimpse I was witness to her past? I began to ponder the meaning and implications, and on queue the swooping shadow swept above us, a dark zenith of urgency. In its wake curled the haze and revealed a broken sable marble monolith. When we began to discuss the next course of action, a voice spoke to our inner selves. This was a wholly unwelcome and intrusive experience for me, and I did everything I could to fortify my mind and push it out. After a declaration of discomfort, the voice seemed mildly regretful and revealed itself to be the water cat, or at least took the guise of it. Instead, the being told us it was a coatl, some celestial spirit of the sphere of light and servant of the moon. Well, that was not expected. It explained that we were here in Calliope's dream as her allies through her visions. Sure, why not, that is as plausible as anything. When even the celestials ignore the kenku taboo of enchantment, I admit I feel frustrated. I know I should feel reverence, and many of my fellow countrymen would gladly engage in discourse with a being of such magnanimous nature. I felt frustrated and disappointed, though. Another kenku as another pawn in someone else's blessed journey. I remember this from Nyke's tales of the fall of the Ninth Unknown and the beginning of the civil war in Umenor. Even after a life of devotion to the spheres, a half-elf who followed the usurper spirits received divine blessings first. Envy doesn't become me. I'm no priest, nor cantor, nor sage. I wasn't chosen by any god or any domain. No divine hero has shared wisdom with me, nor any spirit taken a prized interest. I know my lot in life, and that is the True Path towards my enlightenment. In this world where my mind shapes my environment, I must watch my darker impulses. Thoughts can leak beyond the gates I keep them behind and reveal themselves unwelcomed to those around me. With a few calming breaths, we began to talk and approach the monolith, now clearly a black marble statue of an elven figure, identified by my cohorts as the usurper spirit Farro Stillrest, the spirit patron of exiles, solitude, and hermits. After another pass by the shadowed predator, the mists revealed a new vision for Calliope. We approached it and saw it as a sort of black marble menhir or obelisk. It had writings inscribed in the ruined surface using a script I did not know and the top half seemed sheered off. Mysterious, but not enlightening. The Coatl Guide told us it was a carved story in various languages on various sides, so I circled around and found a script in Elvish and Giant, of all languages. I, luckily, knew Giant for trade purposes and following merchants or surveyers towards the Yotunn settlement south of us. The story was of a cloud giant who had his home invaded by a white dragon. This dragon kidnapped the giant's wife and two children, then proceeded to compel the giant to fly his cloud fortress to an advantageous location. At the end, the giant found his family killed, or injured in some way. The script was damaged and used archaic language I was unfamiliar with. In addition, Calliope mentioned seeing a vision of frog people being sacrificed by an orc in some rite through the reflections of the marsh. A symbolic story was piecing itself together, much like what my teachers taught me in lore class. I was never one for these puzzles of unclear answers and clues, but I learned of them none the less. Once again, my pensive moment was interrupted by the violent pass of the predator, and we found a black marble statue of some sort of angelic figure. On closer inspection, the teeth were sharpened, the eyes burned crimson, and the mouth burned saffron. Here, the Coatl Guide revealed to us that it was indeed a guide and that Calliope's celestial name was Iweweposa, or "seer". The statue had "Fear, take, blood, rip, conquer" carved into its base in a language I didn't recognize. All in all, ominous. I regret to say I casually wondered if the burning light in the statue was hot. Before I could realize it, Calliope began to leap up the statue to find out. She reached towards the mouth, cut her hand upon its razor teeth, and fell off. We saw her trapped in the moment of falling, tumbling as if stuck in a dream without a floor. I had a realization around now. Whenever I reflected upon my past, a part of it manifested around me. I am learning to master my soul and it seems to affect this land. Thus, I focused on the only hero I could think of to cushion her and called forth the night pegasus that I saw when I was a child. The simulacrum I summoned forth was not great, and my art tutors would have given me a barely passing assessment driven solely by my efforts. Little did that matter, for she landed upon the pegasus and descended to safety. I released the entity, proud of my efforts but feeling mentally drained from it. I only had so much of a reservoir of creativity to draw upon, it seems. Her hand was wounded, decaying into blackened flesh around the puncture wound. She began to panic at the thought of turning into something, and I knew that I was uncorrupted in this place. I reached out and send my sapphire emerald light into the wound to burn out the damage. I learned about medicinal breath from the monks, but I never thought this would be how I would learn to visualize it. It worked, and her hand was restored to a pristine state. We learned that Calliope was born of an auspicious moon to the gods. I recalled little of celestial astrology, but I knew at least one cantor who was well-versed in this. This could be a clue to help learn the date of her birth and, thus, an element to the puzzle of her past life. I'll make sure to write to the cantor when I am near a lodge. Again, the predator flew over us, almost visible now and almost certainly dragon-like in shape. With its passing came another vision. ------ We saw before us a ruined structure, of which a black marble archway was all that remained. Inside the archway, however, was an impossible staircase into the depths of the marsh. Being brave vanguards of adventure, we gathered ourselves and ventured forth into the unknown deep. There, we saw a waterlogged chamber and a room full of decayed books and trinkets. Calliope found a tome of some swamp devil she was particularly drawn to as well as a sort of key. When exploring another room, she found a fawn coin floating midair. Makaan insisted we support her in her vision exploration, so we stood by as she grabbed it, tried to take it, and was wrapped in some sort of magicks that weighed her down. I do not understand the reason or symbol, but it must be important to her. We explored two more rooms. One was occupied by two frog people, of whom I hid from as soon as I could. They sang moving music, laced with magic. I am familiar with that kind of phenomenon and it washed over me without harm or hate. The other room had vicious and violent orcs in it, armed with blade and bow. They began to fight the frogs, who fought back. I decayed the healing in one and struck with my emerald sapphire light. It seems I truly can stitch a wound or reopen one long healed over. Truly fascinating, and what a safe place to learn about it! The fight was over swiftly, Makaan being particularly brutal and Calliope resisting brutality. At this point, the dream began to unravel for me. I could sense that I was to wake up soon and details melted into each other. I recalled discussing how these symbols in the visions could reinforce the idea that Calliope was an outcast from her court or her previous life, how she was taken, dragons are a recurring theme, and there was something about raven armor and the angel statue suggesting tyrrany, conquest, war, or violence gods. I felt that Xatris, lord of tyrrany and cruelty, played a role. The spirit seemed to approve of my people's interpretation of him, which was reassuring I guess. I don't think I'd have really changed how I feel about cruelty if the Coatl Guide disapproved. The last sight I recall seeing was a dragon with forward-curved horns and an onyx, skull-like head flying towards us. I know not what it meant, but I had no time to observe before my slumber ended and I awoke in my bed.

Prayers to the Four Spheres

Nuwasu, being a monk trained in the kenku compound, was trained in the ways of his people's spiritualism and faith. This involves praising the prime pantheon. The following are common prayers to different deities. Most prayers begin with "oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise."

Sphere of Light

Ilos, supreme god of the light and sun. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Ilos, the supreme lord over all light and her sun, we pray that you shine upon us and grant us your divine protection. May our way be illuminated and the sun never set on our lives." Aen, god of temperance and compassion. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Aen, lord of temperance and compassion, we pray that you shine upon us and grant us your divine protection. May our hearts be open to the suffering of others so that our own trials be held in sympathy by strangers to our plights." Amohr, god of spring and the rain. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Amohr, the lord of spring and the rain, we pray that you shine upon us and grant us your divine protection. May your cleansing rains usher in respite from the bitter cold of the past and welcome us to a rich future." Dephinna, god of water and the rivers. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Dephinna, lord of water and the rivers of the land, we pray that you shine upon us and grant us your divine protection. May your currents guide us to fortunes of heart and soul." Etonae, god of the arts and performances. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Etonae, patron of the kenku and lord of all arts, we pray that you shine upon us and grant us your divine protection. May your songs echo throughout our people so we may never forget the past and never fall prey to the future." Ibris, god of life and love. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Ibris, lord of love and the tenderness of life, we pray that you shine upon us and grant us your divine protection. May our souls burn with the passion of life so that we can take yet another step towards each other." Narnisu, god of twilight and the moon. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Narnisu, lord of the moon and her twilight, we pray that you shine upon us and grant us your divine protection. May you shield us from the darkest threats that encroach in the night so we may see yet another dawn." Pharaldin, god of truth and wisdom. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Pharaldin, lord of truth and wisdom, we pray that you shine upon us and grant us your divine protection. May you reveal to us the truthful and honest ways to walk through life." Uvia, god of wind and the air. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Uvia, lord of the skies and the wind, we pray that you shine upon us and grant us your divine protection. May our breaths be ever flowing so we can sing your praises." Yull, subordinate god and protector of the waters. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Yull, subordinate of the waters Dephinna, we pray that you shine upon us and grant us your divine protection. May you protect us from dangers in the deep and guide our ships towards safe harbors."

Sphere of Order

Korion, supreme god of order. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Korion, the supreme lord over all structure and order, we pray that you bless us and grant us your divine protection. May we know the rhythms of our lives and ever step assured on the journey through fate." Aias, god of autumn and the harvest. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Aias, lord of autumn and her harvest, we pray that you bless us and grant us your divine protection. May our crops be bountiful and we be prepared for the long frost on the horizon." Cysus, god of crafts and the forge. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Cysus, lord of the forge and her crafts, we pray that you bless us and grant us your divine protection. May our hands ever create with grace and precision." Exeton, god of justice and civilization. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Exeton, lord of civilization and her justice, we pray that you bless us and grant us your divine protection. May our judgements be tempered by the eternal balance of discipline and mercy." Oherin, god of nature and the hunt. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Oherin, lord of nature and her hunts, we pray that you bless us and grant us your divine protection. May we exist in harmony with the wilds of the world and may the wilderness provide bounty for our lives." Pheatia, god of peace and prosperity. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Pheatia, lord of peace and her prosperity, we pray that you bless us and grant us your divine protection. May we breath in air of tranquility and overcome all tempests of conflict." Rhyvian, god of knowledge and mystery. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Rhyvian, lord of knowledge and her mysteries, we pray that you bless us and grant us your divine protection. May our souls be filled with curiosity of the lore and our hearts brimmed with satisfaction."

Sphere of Darkness

Thuses, supreme god of death and darkness. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Thuses, the supreme god of death and her darkness, we pray that you shelter us and grant us your divine protection. May the passage of the dead be of mercy not found in their lives." Citeus, god of fire and ash. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Citeus, the lord of flame and her ash, we pray that you shelter us and grant us your divine protection. May the fires of our passion burn without the smothering of her ashes." Garagnos, god of earth and the underground. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Garganos, lord of the earth and her underground, we pray that you shelter us and grant us your divine protection. May the rock beneath our feet carry us when we are crushed with the burdens that weigh us down." Gyian, god of illusions and the shadow. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Gyian, lord of shadow and her illusions, we pray that you shelter us and grant us your divine protection. May the shadows hide us from those who would do us harm." Netyx, god of lies and secrets. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Netyx, lord of secrets and her lies, we pray that you shelter us and grant us your divine protections. May the unknown be revealed to us with her deceptions made bare to our souls." Xatris, god of tyranny and cruelty. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Xatrix, lord of cruelty and tyranny, we pray that you shelter us and grant us your divine protection. May those with vile intent pass over us so that we may be the rulers of our lives." Ydes, god of winter and isolation. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Ydes, lord of winter and her isolation, we pray that you shelter us and grant us your divine protection. May the darkest moments of loneliness and frost pass us by." Raven Queen, subordinate god and protector of lost souls. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To the Raven Queen, subordinate of Thuses and protector of lost souls, we pray that you shelter us and grant us your divine protection. May those lost find safety and memory in your embrace."

Sphere of Chaos

Raxas, supreme god of chaos and trickery. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Raxes, supreme god of chaos and her tricks, we pray that you anoint us and grant us your divine protection. May rigidity and structure be beautifully disrupted so we may grow stronger." Aeoton, god of fortune and luck. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Aeoton, lord of fortune and success, we pray that you anoint us and grant us your divine protection. May our efforts result in victory for us under your gaze and lifted by our might." Batis, god of violence and murder. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Batis, lord of violence and slaughter, we pray that you anoint us and grant us your divine protection. May those who wish our blood spilled find themselves of their will's inverted fortune." Keros, god of storms and the summer. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Keros, lord of summer and her storms, we pray that you anoint us and grant us your divine protection. May the wealth of summer be decorated with the wonders of the storm." Taeora, god of magic and mysticism. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Taeora, lord of magic and her mystics, we pray that you anoint us and grant us your divine protection. May the unseen arts produce your wonders and favor us in their wake." Thomtal, god of change and transformation. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Thomtal, lord of change and her transformations, we pray that you anoint us and grant us your divine protection. May we grow in conflict to achieve a greater and better self." Vulgan, god of war and combat. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Vulgan, lord of war and conflict, we pray that you anoint us and grant us your divine protection. May we have the strength and endurance to deserve your favor in challenges we've yet to overcome." Quorin, god of blight and oblivion. "Oh spheres of endless potential, who cast upon our mortal lives the shapes of all thing, we offer you our praise. To Quorin, betrayer of gods and lord of oblivion, we pray that you anoint us and grant us your divine protection. May we shed our old selves and be born anew, free of the guilt and burdens of our past."

Rescuing Leosin

My cohorts stood facing down the checkpoint, and Avindir tried some draconic phrase. I did not understand what he said, but I surely understood the reaction. The words he chose were not the words they yearned to hear, and their swords were gripped with indignation. I knew the look in these peoples' eyes -- I've seen it in my own mirror of my youth. I know it when their hearts sing to Vulgan, lord of war and conflict. Their blood boils for Batis, lord of bloodshed. My training kicked in, faster than ever before. The growing gem of my soul has heightened by reflexes it seems, for I leapt to clash against the blade of the mouthpiece of their discontent. Alas, Batis found my haste ill-sporting and my blows nary caused any hesitation in the knave's forms. So began our dance under the rites of Vulgan, and I took a few slashing blows to my form. With the grace of Exeton, lord of commmunity and justice, I was not alone in this fight, for surely I would have fallen in my own blood. The fight felt like it took ages longer than it did. Again, my soul's might changed how I perceived the flow of the fight. I threw out poultices and patches to injured allies, danced between bolts and blows, and I've not had a scuff like this before. There was true killing intent in their strikes. Soon, the fight came to a close as we stood upon the dais of Etonae, patron of my people and singer of victorious praises, Blessed Be She. We even took a few knaves as prisoner, of which I resuscitated with the smelling salts in my kit and a few well-placed medicines. We interrogated the prisoner, of whom I vowed to never speak their name. We learned of the phrase to pass through the checkpoints. "Praise the Dark Dreamer's glory", almost a cruel blaspheme to our own prayers. We learned of the regalia we found and how it is part of an outfit of devotion, of the camp in the ravine with prisoners trapped inside, of the scope of their operations (over two hundred battle-ready cultists in our way?!). The man I fought was Captain Uton Mersk, a foul man even by our prisoner's standards. We even learned of the name of the draconic beastly being who slayed the captain at the keep -- an Azurath or Azure Wrath or something of the sort. We learned of the political machinations of the cult and of a Raku Faradoon or something, the crimson dragonborn and wielder of their cinnabar staff. They supplanted the ashen white speaker of Austremwuld and are now in charge of the cult. There is some sort of chromatic council that oversees the operations of the cult. Frankly, it was hard to glean meaning; my grasp of their common tongue is not as strong as it should be. I feel shame for treating the lessons of my youth so frivolously when I now need to know key details. At the end of the prisoner's interrogation, we had to decide their fate. The prisoner fully accepted their death, either at our hands, the hands of Oherin, lord of nature, or at the hands of their cult. Makaan, as a rhythmic echo of his prior proclamations, felt the prisoner was beyond redemption. To him and his swift Yotunn justice, of whom I am disgracingly unfamiliar, execution of such a vile prisoner is the only recourse and even a mercy. This is truly an act of severe judgment in my eyes, but I've been wounded deeply in my gut with only passing divine mending and medifice to aid me. I felt weakened and exhausted, so I took this as a learning opportunity. Makaan was revealing his world view and, thus, showing us a reflection of his self esteem. The monks talked about how, outside the commune, we must watch and witness many acts we find distasteful. I recalled these words as I saw Makaan's final blow to the prisoner. We proceeded forward to infiltrate the camp, burdened with the knowledge that we had but four bells worth of time before the checkpoint was due to report back and their demise would then reach the camp. Our plan was thus: Calliope and I would be disguised in our smallclothes as wounded prisoners, leaving Avindir and Makaan as our dutiful cultist captors. They would seek weaknesses in the institution of the camp through the lens of guards while Calliope and I would seek weaknesses from the perspective of their victims. We found eight prisoners in our captured area, and Blessed Be Aen, Lord of kindnesses and mercy, for we saw my brother monk Leosin chained and separated from the rest of us. While his wounds were deep and cruel, his heart yet beat and I knew then that he must be saved. We learned of the drake cages, the three camps of outsider mercenaries in the ravine, and of the sable dragonborn council member Reydrith Mysten, wielder of the onyx staff of the blackened dragons. Leosin supposedly entered the camp under the guise of a raider, but was swiftly identified, separated, and tortured by Reydrith Mysten. She seems to know of him and, potentially, of our order. If she heared a kenku prisoner was taken, who knows what ill-fate would have fallen upon me? We learned of a cave, of which any non-cultist who entered never left. Rumors abound of treasure and loot stolen from the razed homes of the prisoners and more reside in there amongst the unhatched eggs of dragons. Our priorities were simple: distract the camp's net of alarms and reactions, rescue Leosin, and escort him and the prisoners swiftly out before our scheme was noticed. When Avindir and Makaan returned to us, I was reminded of Master Pyhyw and his teachings about striking down a foe. First, we must shift their foundation of stability with a decisive blow. When they began to adjust, we must strike once more to knock them off balance. Finally, we must turn their strength and weight against them so their own form begets their fall. Thus, our plan was this: cause infighting in the camps of mercenaries (specifically, the Silents of the former Ninth Unknown against the berserk Wild Cats). This would interrupt their reaction potential to thwart us. Next, we disrupt their supplies by igniting their spirits, ales, and meads. This would cause fear and chaos from the primordial flamed threat. Finally, we would use the berserker's own mushrooms against them by having their warbeast drakes consume them and be enraged and uncontrolled. When their own strength of beast is now a hindrance, our movements are much lower of a priority. Aeoton, lord of fortune and success, must have favored us this evening. Our plans went off smoothly. I performed dances of allure and distraction along with Calliope to lure eyes away from the movements of my allies. We performed each task with decisive success. We even swapped Leosin out for his guard on the spire of torment and swiftly exited with the prisoners. I hid our retreat into the hills and, after another dawn and almost dusk, we made it back to Timberpass. ------ I meditated upon our successes and the lessons I learned in this adventure. I saw how we used our energies to poison the flow of the camp, saw the harsh judgement of the Yotunn, and saw the cruelty inflicted upon my brother monk Leosin. I also saw the hope burning in the bosom of the prisoners, the healing miracles of Narnisu, and the power of harmonious and cooperative action. Truly, our world is but a reflection of the purity of the spheres. I spoke with brother monk Yde (Stretch in the common tongue) and Leosin. With their guidance and mentorship, I realized that I had developed the medicinal breath kosu and owodao in my soul, further refining and refracting in its crucible. This is a momentous occasion, to have such a beautiful manifestation of myself. Ordinarily, my master monks, brother monks, and sister monks would perform a weeks long ritual with me to craft a mask reflecting my spiritual image out of sacred ash and the accumulated feathers I've been gathering for years in preparation. Alas, we are not in my monastery. Instead, Yde and Leosin helped me carve a mask out of charred ash from the ruins of Timberpass and I wove my headdress of ebony feathers. I now have a guise to perform my own harsh judgments under, reminding me that my ego and history can be referenced in severity but must be only just. On the morrow, we prepare to return to the camp we just left in order to seek out the mysteries of the cave. With my wound feeling better (thanks in no small part to the chirurgical care of Yde), I feel even more determined to go back into the world.

Approaching the Cultist Camp

The dawn felt late this morning. I woke up, feeling any marginal rest from the stress of the prior evening that overwhelmed me. Calliope was already up, meditating or praying to her aspect of the moon. I saw Avindir and Makaan talking to someone about half elves and gossiping about the half elf's romantic life or something. I tuned it out -- I'm not here to participate in the scuttlebutt of other people's personal lives. Instead, I focused on unpacking and repacking everyone's bags. I feel like some of them haven't gone on long hikes with Master Sopai. Master Pyhyw especially would have been disappointed in their packing techniques, for sure. After I finished packing Avindir's pack, who had a few more last-minute items collected by Makaan, I was bathed in the silver light of Narnisu. I recognize a divine blessing when I see it; I felt compelled to praise the twilight and ask for protection from those who would hunt us in the dark. Avindir and Makaan seemed a bit surprised by my piety. I wonder why? We headed off, and the role I asserted for myself was to help ensure our approach would be concealed. I recall how Gyian's shadows could do little to hide the clamor of my cohorts, so this felt necessary to me. The day's journey felt pleasant and a welcomed calm after the prior night's horrors. We even saw a majestic pack of wooly mammoths! Truly, Oherin's wonders are a sight to behold. May we exist in harmony with the wilds of the world and may the wilderness provide bounty for our lives! That evening, we had a lovely campfire. I handed out a few woolen scarves, we had a lovely meal that was far better than the morning's hardtack stew, and I felt honored to have such a meal. We talked about a few htings, such as apparently Calliope's prior diet of glamoured food and beating hearts. I think I have a better understanding of my mission from Master Sopai. Calliope has seen things I cannot properly imagine, and would be patronizing of me to even try. If whatever she went through made eating a still-beating heart a minor trouble for her, then the fae might have done things to her mind beyond my comprehension. I remember Nyke stories and stories from the cantor about how the fae would steal away kenku children, shape their mind like a growing tree around a fence or support, and send them back to the commune. Even when enchantments were purged from the minds of the returned children, they grew around the enchantments and the shapes of the minds remembered their commandments from the courts. What kinds of cruel orders were forced into Calliope for her to grow and shape around? Calliope mentioned as well that she wasn't always a satyr -- her original form is lost to her in both mind and body. She cannot even remember the lineage of her kin, nor the culture of her family, nor the season she came from. Her past and heritage was stolen from her, which I find disgusting. Rhyvian and Netyx surely have her history hidden in their demesne. If I were a priest of lore and secrets, or had some sort of connection to the heavens, then perhaps I would have a divine avenue to help her. Alas, I am but Nuwasu, a monk initiate of the lodge. I can only seek out clues and wisdom through means mundane and pray that the divinities of knowledge, lore, mysteries, secrets, and the lost would provide guidance. I learned about Frost People. There are frost gnomes, frost giants, frost goliaths, frost men, and the common traits are they are blue and cold. I am a kenku with blue feathers and I feel cold -- am I a frost kenku? I don't understand this very well, but I find it amusing. I wonder if I'd come across frost minotaurs in the north. ------ We slept heartily through the night, but still I felt not fully rested. I enjoy sleeping under stars, but the stress and enormity of the task in front of me weighed on my dreams. My stomach turned with fears of the upcoming day, but I am fortuitous in that my meditations helped calm my troubled soul. Around midday, maybe a bell after high sun, we found a camp of stragglers debating how to best cook rabbits. The poor kobolds looked half starved and mighty pathetic as the four human-sized leaders were trying to figure out a decision. This was ripe for us to interrupt this "rear guard" to help cover our eventual retreat from the main camp with townsfolk in tow. The enchantments woven by Calliope to lull almost all of the kobolds to slumber was a true sight to behold and I gladly knocked out the remaining two. The four man-like folks were a bit more stubbornly resisting our attempts to swiftly end the conflict, but we prevailed in the end. I am finding attacking the knees and legs is proving most beneficial. Unfortunately, Makaan crushed the head of one sleeping and non-combative kobold, sparking potentially our first significant debate. Makaan, a self-proclaimed "pragmatist", claimed that the best and truly only responsible option was to kill all in the cult that came across our path. I found this absolutism repulsive, so I tried to remember the lessons Master Sopai taught us about the balance between compassion and discipline, kindness and severity, mercy and harm. I found the worst difficult to translate to the common tongue, and not everyone was receptive to my words. However, I think I won the general esteem of my vanguard cohorts and we elected to nonlethally resolve our foes in the moment. We took weapons, shoes, and some resources to impede their progress. That way, when they woke they would find their circumstances worse off and their capability less enabled for further conflict. Hopefully, this kindness of sparing their lives tempered with the severity of removing tools of violence and mobility will aid in Pheatia's and Exeton's wisdom regarding the path of cruelty they walk on and finding a new course in life. Ultimately, it is up to these cultists to handle how to interpret this mercy. We recovered a small sum of 28 silver crowns to add to our collected vanguard fund and four sets of some sort of draconic regalia. It might proved useful. ------ We walked for hours to a checkpoint, where they asked us some question about what the word was. Surely this is a phrase or code, but I know it not. Hopefully we can guile our way through.

Tragedy of the Duel

My comrades in the vanguard have settled into natural tactical roles; I am grateful for this. They are competent combatants, which is valuable with the swarm of cultists and kobolds plaguing the Aias temple of harvest. Avindir took a shot-calling role, targeting high profile targets with flames and alerting us of a group on our flank. Makaan and I kept the front line intact by haggering the kobolds and cultists from around a corner with arrows, darts, fists, and hammers. Calliope even joined in the melee with a few mace swings and horn bashes. Speaking of darts -- Makaan ran out of javelins, so I let him use some darts. I think that Makaan believes them kobold-sized javelins. I didn't correct in the middle of a fight and now it is starting to feel too late. How peculiar. I wonder how long I can keep him thinking this true? While we were defending the temple, a particularly burly priest (priestess?) was evacuating the temple. All in all, we were quite efficient, if a bit beaten up, when the temple was saved. Blessed be the harvest grain and the community heart! ------ Our return to the keep was simple and uncomplicated. However, things swiftly took a skyfall. The citizenry were justifiably distraught over the sounds of their home and livelihoods being razed by fanatic cultists. Worse, there were still citizens missing. Dead, captured, injured, hiding, who knows? I was busy with the reporting, meditating, and contemplation, but I did notice a fellow kenku in the keep. Peculiar indeed; but alas investigating this wonder was delayed by a call for a duel of honor. A massive dragon-like ~~woman~~ ~~man~~ thing wanted to fight to the death with one of the defenders of the town to account for the death of their troops. I understand their drive, but they are the aggressors here. Their honor is blemished already and I find it almost disgusting how they twist the concepts. However, I remember how we've traded and interacted with the Nightmare Dragon's folk before. They are honest, almost to a fault. They have such pride that they've seemed to find no value in deception. They want something and the world would naturally accommodate. The duel's conditions become more concerning quite soon. They have children and a woman hostage -- these tokens in their eyes will be handed over independent of the outcome of the duel, but the duel must happen. The beast of a being demands someone meets their challenge. It turned out a guard captain wanted to fight because of a relation to the woman. A noble desire, but I sincerely felt that none of us were a match against the beast of a being. I felt a deep conflict in this moment. If I insisted, I could be the challenger in the duel. Innocent civilians were in the crossfire of the raze, which my order was made to protect people in these kinds of situations. Simultaneously, though, my order isn't a martial one. While I like a scrap, this isn't a regulated duel as much as walking into a butchering. The beast was over twice my height and every part of their form was a weapon. I am, even now, quite certain I would not have won. Thus, my heart was torn: do I uphold the ideals of my order and work to defend the innocents, or do I retreat because it would have been my almost certain demise? My struggle took too long and the guard man proceeded to prepare for the duel. In solidarity, and to protect the hostages, we accompanied him to the fight. He died in seconds, cleaved almost in half. The woman was distraught, which is understandable. The children were traumatized, which is only natural. I felt so useless. ------ The keep was somber. The sounds of the raze kept people from finding rest. My cohorts struggled in particular, I believe. I did meet with the kenku, who was a brother in my order. Brother Stretch was traveling with Brother Leosin, whom I was to meet here. Brother Stretch's leg was seriously injured, Brother Leosin taken by the cult, and the rest of their traveling cohorts scattered to seek out reinforcements from the Lodge. Brother Stretch was left alone, being the now slowest member of the cohorts, and unable to pursue a rescue of Brother Leosin. Brother Leosin should know more about the nature of the cult, their motivations, and their plans. Unfortunately, all that's left is a broken quarterstaff and a silver amulet. This was all done through our game of dragon chess. ------ The governor person offered each of us 250 gold crowns or whatever currency they use in the Empire to track the now-leaving raiders, for they have taken people in carts or carriages or something. This aligned quite well with Leosin's rescue plans mulling in my mind, so I readily accepted. The governor also provided two magical potions of healing. They seem of acceptable quality; I look forward to seeing how effective they are. Magical healing truly is a wonder. I went to take a short respite and get as many hours of sleep as I could. Adrenaline is a poor substitute for actual rest. In the morn, I plan on helping ensure everyone is properly packed before we head out with great haste to save lives.

The Timberpass Temple Assault

My soul burns in my crucible. There was a moment of rest in the keep. We began to patch our wounds and I reflected further upon my journey through the town. With the calming of my thunderbeat heart, I found bile rising up. I've been in fights, but never like this. The smell of burning houses and, may Batis spare me, slaughter was new for me. I've grown with stories of how my people have been treated in the Empire, and here I am in an outland town sensing the horrors that were just distant words from my youth. It ~~frightened~~ concerned me. Mom always seemed a bit dramatic. Is this what she and dad fled from? Is this what took my sister that I've never met? I found my thoughts drifted to the people we then saved. They aren't my people, true, but they are still people, and their very lives were being threatened by this cult. When I look at these smallfolk (halflings, I think? Maybe gnomes.), I see eyes so very different from mine, but also so very much the same. I may not know much about the life they had before this calamitous night, but I've seen their pain all my life. My calming meditations and mantras helped the Keros tempests in my soul soothe to the healing Amohr rains. I felt my breath smooth out, my pulse become a distant drum. My mind drifted to thoughts of my mom, the smallfolk, the cantor who sang the song of our history, and to all the towns I've yet to see. This pain of loss is threaded through them all, but so is the wonder of what they had. Master Sopai was right the entire time. I feel so blind; how have I heard these lessons and never heard them before? Their lives are a wonder, their histories entire worlds. The destruction of these communities is a deep tragedy, a loss that makes us all worse off. I struggle to find the words to express how angry, sad, and pitiful I feel. Sister Paemy would know what to say. I do not. I feel the world is more alive now. I almost can touch the wonder of everything around me, and even the dropping of tears feels slower. My achievement is my own. I do not know my comrades enough to share with them the revelation I've reached; how would they handle it? I will ponder how to share it. But first, we have to see what our prisoners know. I'm optimistic that we will find insights. ------ That was awful. That was truly awful. I'm a tough guy. I've been in a street gang, I've had alley way scraps. I've punched and kicked and bit with the best of them back home. I thought I was tough. I didn't know. We interrogated the human (probably? No one actually confirmed this. Note to self: get the hang of this, it is embarrassing). Well, we tried. The wizard-scholar Avindir had the idea to play "good guard, bad guard". One of us would play upon sympathies, one would play upon fears. Alright, sure. I thought I was a scary guy, but Makaan is a giant of a man who feels almost as wide as I am tall. He is far more terrifying than I am; let him be the bad guard. Avindir is soft, gentle, and apparently a cultist want to be; a perfect good guard here. This makes sense. They have roles to perform. I'm used to performances. Etonae preserve me, this was nothing like the theater back home. Avindir is, apparently, someone who wanted to join the Dark Dreamer. I know our people have a complicated history with the Nightmare Dragon, but I've not met someone who was denied to the cult. There's a lot to understand there. I shouldn't accuse him of being a traitor in waiting. I know this. But I admit, the thought that the man who can call forth lightning and flame with ease is sympathetic to the cult that caused all of this destruction worries me. Makaan, similarly, seems far too comfortable with violence. I'm not referring to sporting scraps to settle a dispute then going to the local tavern to drink it out. This is the kind of violence that feels dismissive of the wonder of life in others. A cold kind of violence, one driven by acknowledging that the enemy is alive, that they have their own world of experiences, and finding no value in this revelation. This too worries me. Calliope, conversely, wasn't violent. Instead, she wove magic to shape the mind of others. That has always been a sort of taboo for us kenku. Fae have taken our children for generations, warped their minds and souls, then sent them back as agents of the fae to our communities. Our greatest arcanist Nyke refused to touch another's mind in this way and many of our mystical ethics stems from his philosophies. To see Calliope do it worries me. I got ahead of myself. The human was in a kind of despair, accepting a doomed fate. His name was Harold, I believe. He told us little; words about a Furia Morgath who was a dragonborn but became "more". People of all walks of life were being taken to be a hoard for the Nightmare Dragon, a possible sacrifice for the Dark Dreamer's dominion over the world. I know not how magic works, let alone dragon magic. I don't know what value a kin's life is to such a being. In the course of this interrogation, I tried being the tough healer. A bit stiff with the caring manner, but still a chirurgeon. I set his broken arm, tended to his immediate wounds, and applied as much balm as I felt it safe to do. This entire process felt futile, for Makaan readily broke the bones in his right hand. It frightened me. Harold fully accepted his doom at the keep and refused to elaborate. I tried expressing sympathetic, but he rebuffed my effort readily. Avindir tried a bit more forcefully, threatening with fire and lightning. He accepted the tempestuous threat. I was surprised that Avindir followed through by electrocuting him, dropping him to the edge of life. We tried to talk with Smelldrop the kobold, who repeated much of the same points and confirmed things. They take people southwards (likely) to a temporary holding area. Smelldrop, more frighteningly, confirmed that the kobolds are zealous believers of the cult. I tried expressing how tragic it all was; how the community and circumstances forged such zealotry. I struggle to find the words. This would be Brother Ydu's domain; he knows all the words and all the thoughts forged of them. I miss home. I feel over my head, like I am drowning in a deluge surge on the riverbank. I was harvesting reeds and the waters rise so highly over me that I barely can swim to safety. Is this what the world is like truly outside the commune? Is this why our lodge exists? Is this why my order is as it is? Truly, the world needs more mercy. ------ The lord of the keep, some governor or mayor or something, told us the dragon attacked. Krangerits the Azure Flame or something like that according to Smelldrop. Six soldiers survived, burned deeply by the lightning from the dragon. Blue means lightning, and blue comes from sands. I don't get it. I applied some immediate aid to the soldiers (a bit of bees wax and barley poultice), offered them willow bark for the pain, and found the burned charcoal corpses of those who didn't make it in the courtyard. The lord of the keep provided keys to an emergency escape tunnel to the south, which was filled with particularly angry but healthy rats (who bit quite hard), and we planned to follow the stream in the shadow of night to try and approach the Temple to Aias, the divine lord of the harvest. It seems the cultist raiders were assaulting the sanctified temple to break it open and harvest the citizens taking sanctuary inside. This could not be allowed to happen. Thus, we repelled a kobold-driven patrol near the stream and followed it to the temple compound. The south of the temple was being smoked out by a burning brazier, the north a battering ram. Patrolling forces were keeping an eye for both escape and rescue attempts. The battering ram was the most urgent, pressing threat to the people inside. We rapidly and swiftly disrupted the ramming attempt and prepared for the patrol to reinforce. I fired a few arrows, kicked a few heads, and so on. Typical strategies for what I was trained for. I missed quite a lot; a dragon thing exploded into petrifying dust apparently. I did beat up dragon wolf, which was pretty fun actually.

The Journey into Timberpass

I awoke this morning to the absence of the sacred fires the monks keep. I've never been away from anyone of my kind for so long. I left the commune at the start of spring; how is it only now summer? Why does it feel as though the days slip by? Calliope was already awake. She confuses me, I admit. I've never met a satyr before, and the monks told me she was likely not born one. I've never been to the Faewyld, and I never want to go. Mom told me that kenku who were taken by the fae rarely returned and were never to be trusted by the community. Master Sopai insisted that they deserve compassion, safety, and the essential dignity of all living creatures. In matters like this, Master Sopai seems wiser. Sorry, Mom. Why is she my task? I've not yet found how to put my breath into the crucible of my soul, nor am I talented in the communal song. I don't know the ballads of the fae that Nyke composed for us. I mean, I know bits, but that was never my talent in school. Brother Ydu is far more versed in the song, surely he would have been a wiser choice. Sister Paemy has far more compassion than I towards outsiders; I know this, as does Master Sopai. Both of them have even begun to forge their breath in the crucible! Why wouldn't they be chosen? Why was I picked? Master Sopai gave me very little spiritual guidance, I feel. "Find the glory in the world," he told me. "Miracles and wonders first are found amongst the lives and homes of the people around you. Seek out their essential truth, and feel for their plight. Act with pure thought and humble instinct." I know this deals with sykenora, but I've heard the lectures and read the scrolls for years now. I don't know what I am missing. Brother Ydu and Sister Paemy seemed to get it so readily and they didn't even have to leave the commune. Is this a punishment? Am I being pushed out of the monastery as an embarrassment? Surely not; I have an important ward in my care and I was told to meet with Brother Leosin Eranthar somewhere around here. Breakfast is porridge again. I'm getting tired of the same overcooked oats thinned down in water. I miss home. The caravan guards found some rabbits for stew tonight. They're salting in the back of the rear caravan; that should be a welcome treat after all this fell-forsaken porridge. The goliath sailor Makaan and the human scholar Avindir were talking again about the goliath taken by the cult. I thought it was bad enough to have beings of another world steal your children; to have people of this land take your family and friends feels cruel. We're breathing the same air, standing on the same stone. Surely that means they shouldn't have such animosity? Mom told me about how the people of their previous home were cruel to Dad when he worked. I don't know if it is the same vile ichor in those asshole's hearts as it is in the cult. Calliope is more attentive today, I think. In the last few months, it's been like watching her slowly awaken from a dream. Her attention floats across the land around us, gently touching everything but not settling on any one feature. The mists might be clearing in her mind? I don't even know if that's a thing with fae taken, or if that's just her disposition. I should check in on her more. What do I even say? How do I talk to someone who has seen so much and retains so little? I'm no Ydu or Paemy. I wonder if Makaan can fight. Maybe I could challenge him to a bit of a brawl, just to spice up the dredge of this trip. Master Sopai told me not to fight allies, comrades, or acquaintances. I miss good ol' fashioned scraps. I don't think that Avidnir guy would do well in fisticuffs against me; he looks more like a bookish type. He has rough, calloused hands though. Maybe he was a laborer or craftsman in a previous life. The caravan guard Mitchohel said we should reach Timberpass this evening. What a relief. We're supposed to see the town over the next ridge. Just in time too -- the gloaming hours approach and I don't like us moving like this with Calliope in such dangerous times. I can't use my breath to strike through Brother Ydu, how could I protect her against the fae? I think I can see the town from here. How well lit! Maybe they are more well-off than I anticipated. That should be the keep over there. I think I see [scratch] The town was being raided and there is apparently a dragon (blue, I think it was? Don't know what that means). We needed to act swiftly to save lives. The caravan guards stayed behind, as is their duty. I'd rather not fight alongside those who's attention is torn between targets. I procured a horse, eager to ride into the districts and save survivors. Makaan the goliath and Avindir the human volunteered to join me. Calliope was ready to follow me. I hope it was wise to put her in danger; is her safety a greater goal than the safety of strangers? Turns out no one knew how to ride a horse unfamiliar to them. Fine, walking will have to do for this crew of vanguards. May Gyian preserve us; these fools of the vanguard make more noise than a child stealing cake. How can so few people make such a tumult? We approached a district from the south and found about a dozen or so kobolds encircling a wounded, fearful shortfolk family. Master Sopai, I wish you were here to guide me. Did I act wrong? Was my drive to perform instinctively a failure when a tempered, cautious approach was wise? I lept into action, Master, as I was trained to do. I identified the interlopers and those being downtrodden. I made myself known, drew attention from the vulnerable, and delivered a decisive blow fitting of the principles of domih. I was bathed in the fires of the attack, my leg covered in the blood of my foe. I didn't know the kobolds were so fragile. He, she, they crumpled against my strike like a near-empty sack of wheat. I didn't mean for their death. I know Thuses teaches us that death is an extant form of life, an inevitability and not something to fear. But life is a precious, ephemeral moment in the eternal expanse of history too. If I am to take a life, it should be done with purpose and conviction, wisdom and thought. I acted in the moment, the palm to block the axe's head from executing the innocent. That is also what I was taught. I couldn't dwell on the ethics of my choice. The fight began, and the family (were they a family? I don't even remember their names anymore. Do they mean so little to me? I don't want that.) was still in danger. I continued my assault, focusing on kobolds near the shortfolk and kobolds using ranged weapons. I held back on my blows, struck more armored locations. I did not take another life that fight. The fight was over almost as fast as I began it. Much to my surprise, all three other members of the vanguard fought without vomiting or freezing. Makaan knew how to use that hammer, for sure. Avindir threw out fire like a mage; maybe I should have paid more attention to his lectures. Calliope charged a kobold head-first (horn-first?) and even channeled magic. Honestly, I thought they would freeze. I'm glad to be wrong. We had a second fight this night. This time, humans (probably?) were guiding the kobolds in the raid. This supported a naive hope of mine: the kobolds weren't fighting out of zeal, but were enlisted in fear. They are likely being manipulated and trounced by those in charge. Easy fight then; knock them out, keep them in the streets. Standard scrap rules. A couple of kobolds and a raider tried to sneak around to strike at our citizens we offered aegis to. Not on my watch. I chased after them, scared them, and even got a kobold to surrender! I think his name (her? their?) was Smelldrop. I honestly don't know for sure. Blood was pounding in my ears and I could barely hear anything. We saved over a dozen citizens on our way to the keep. We weren't even burned or blown up or whatever it is blue dragons do. Is the blue just their scales? Does that really matter? In reflection, I think I am sick with disgust at the thought of a whole town being razed. This is home to people; their lives grow from here. Mom cried at night when I was kid when she remembered how her home was destroyed. To see the same kinds of tears on the faces of these shortfolk inspires sorrow and grief. Is this what Daenu felt when he fought against the empire? Is this what drove Nyke? Against all odds though, we saved lives. While their homes may be ablaze, they can rebuild and regrow. Mom did, so can they. This is the nature and tenacity of life and it is a wonder to behold.

Entry for WorldEmber 2022

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Nuwasu

Nuwasu

Physical Description

General Physical Condition

Body Features

Facial Features

Identifying Characteristics

Physical quirks

Apparel & Accessories

Mental characteristics

Personal history

Gender Identity

Education

Employment

Mental Trauma

Morality & Philosophy

Social

Contacts & Relations

Family Ties

Wealth & Financial state

Entering Emvalor for the First Time

Zakrieg's Betrayal and Pursuit of the Cult

Rescue from the Manor

Bathhouse Cult of Slaughter

The Ship, Bath, and Cults

Fallean Impressions

On the Road to Carangoroth

Brush with Death in a Cave of Dragons

Return to the Ravine

Abducted Arcanist

Moonlit Dream

Prayers to the Four Spheres

Sphere of Light

Sphere of Order

Sphere of Darkness

Sphere of Chaos

Rescuing Leosin

Approaching the Cultist Camp

Tragedy of the Duel

The Timberpass Temple Assault

The Journey into Timberpass

Entry for WorldEmber 2022

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