Faestina Gladdenstone
Faestina Gladdenstone
A quiet and recluse Wood Elf raised by a Drudic Halfing.
Intent on living out her long years in the quiet of The Ancient Forest until the passing of her adoptive father and the increase in disturbing visions of shambling corpses.
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
Slim with a small waistline.
Long-limbed with delicate wrists and tapered fingers.
Body Features
Tanned skin as a results of an outdoors lifestyle.
Facial Features
- Freckles
- Small features
- Ungroomed eyebrows
- Pointed Wood Elf ears
- Button nose
Physical quirks
- Ambidextrous
- Avoids eye contact and/or plays with hair when self-conscious
Special abilities
- Wildshape: Faestine can magically assume the shape of a beast that she has seen before
Apparel & Accessories
- Wears accoutrement from nature (e.g. local wild flowers, bleached tiny animal bones, semi-precious stones etc.)
- Very plain/simple common clothes under studded leather armour
Mental characteristics
Personal history
(In Brief - Spoilers)
- Many years ago, deep in The High Forest, there once lived a settlement of Wood Elves known as the Life-Seed Keepers.
- A recluse and peaceful community that legend has it had the ability to bring the dead back to life.
- Faestina was born into this community of Wood Elves. The daughter of the elder druids, destined for power and responsibility.
- But before her first birthday the unthinkable happened. The settlement was raided by a violent party of Drow, seeking out the source of the clan’s death-defying powers.
- At the heart of the community lay the Life-Seed Orb: a magical object bestowed upon the land-worshipers for their centuries of service to the forest.
- The pillagers meant to take the orb to bring it as a prize to their leaders. But knowing of its true powers, the Wood Elves defended their right to keep it.
- With much sacrifice the attackers were stopped, but one escaped, fleeing back to their home.
- In less than a week a group stronger than the first returned and took revenge for their murdered kin. Slaying the Wood Elves indiscriminately.
- Fearing for the orb and their daughter Faestina’s parents fled but were pursued, attacked and fatally wounded.
- The three were found on the outskirts of the forest by a rundown shrine to Mielikki being tended to by an elder Halfling druid.
- Faestina’s parents handed over their baby to the Halfing, named Davdon Gladdenstone, and begged him to raise her in their stead.
- At the same time, the Life-Seed Orb was captured and taken back to the Drow settlement. Kept underground, away from its home and slowly corrupted by dark magics the nature of the orb began to change. Whilst it was still able to bring back the dead, it did so in an unnatural way. The astral projections of the soul that the Wood Elves had enjoyed were now corporeal resurrections of the body, but the minds of the dead were soured; wicked.
- As Faestina was raised oblivious to her heritage and destiny to bring the orb back to the forest, the Orb began to push out unholy abominations - neither living nor dead.
- Time passed and Faestina followed the teachings and lifestyle of Davdon, who she grew to love as a father, but Elves are cursed with such long lifespans that eventually he passed away and she continued to tend the shrine alone.
- With Davdon’s passing, nightmares of shambling corpses and evil magics began to plague Faestina.
- Packing up her few belongings she followed the outdated map Davdon had given her she travelled into the land.
Gender Identity
Faestina identifies as a female Wood Elf.
Sexuality
Faestina is open to romantic relationships with the right partner but they would need to share her pacifist and open-minded views. The gender and/or race of her partner does not affect her attraction to them but rather their personality, character and world views, by which definition she would probably be classed as pansexual.
Education
Well-versed in natural law, biology, herbalism and Drudic practices.
Employment
Commissioned to create salves, healing poultices and medicines.
Mental Trauma
- Death of adoptive father - Davdon Gladdenstone
Intellectual Characteristics
- Deeply curious and inquisitive but has a tendancy to keep these feelings to herself.
- Unphased by common preconceptions and has a strong dislike of stereotyping races/creatures.
Morality & Philosophy
An' it harm none, do what ye will.
Taboos
- Bigotry/prejudice
- Defiling nature
- Cruelty in any and all forms
- Needless violence
Personality Characteristics
Likes & Dislikes
Likes
- Eating (especially: bread, cheese and over-ripe fruit)
- Drinking (especially: mead)
- Geology
- Eating anything that had a bound in its life (e.g. chicken from a mother hen)
- Rudeness (especially: interruptions /jeering)
- Elitism
Hygiene
- Clean but not exceptionally so, often forgets to do basic hygenic practises such as brushing hair or washing hands after handling animals
Social
Religious Views
Druid of Mielikki
Relationships
Relationship Reasoning
Started off circumstantial, due to the mishaps in Mulmaster, Due to Fae's insular lifestyle this has lead to a dedication to each other. For Krist he is enamored with her realism and care. Though he thinks he doesn't deserve it. They're attraction was rather immediate, and has grown since
Commonalities & Shared Interests
Drinking
Shared Acquaintances
The Wee Winger: Alannah Jaqueline Pramanix Bree Skodrum
A hermit druid raised in The High Forest by an isolationist Halfling named Davdon.
Character Location
Alignment
Neutral Good
Birthplace
The Ancient Forest
Spouses
Krist Novenbourn
(Friend?)
Siblings
Children
Gender
Female
Eyes
Brown
Hair
Blonde
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Pale
Height
5'4" (162cm)
Weight
148 lb. (67kg)
- Common
- Elvish
- Halfing
- Druidic
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Distant Company
Oh how Waning Gibbous shyly pulls away
Coy as she yawns in a blanket of stars
Soothed by balmy night air
Her freckles moon dust, her eye reflecting morning’s light
Bated breath
These past days have felt like a precious, fragile pocket of time in and unto themselves. Worries of violence and being on the run assuaged by midnight skinny dipping and midday gardening. Is there anything more beautiful than the laughter of loved ones sounding in harmony with the soft chirping of crickets.
Elusive and hiding just out of reach but audible.
Just like true joy, bubbling under the surface but guarded by socially dictated norms and our own preconceptions of what is or is not acceptable.
So much has happened since I set out from home that now I’m back and have been back I think I have changed.
Is change a frightening thing for an Elf?
Am I supposed to represent that long-lived immutable creature folklore culturally tells me to be.
Dad said he’d met my birth parents, that he knew of them. I wonder why he never shared that with me… Only now I hear of their names.
Did they call me Faestina, or did he? Is Gladdenstone his name, or mine?
What would they think of the person I’ve become? Should I let that influence my actions or am I to continue as I have been? What am I even like to someone who barely knows me, how does someone see me when they come across me and how have I changed since leaving home.
Am I growing or festering.
Perhaps it’s immature to care how others perceive me. Had I the wisdom or foresight I would turn aside, laugh at the notion of someone judging me and… say what? What is an Elven Druid supposed to say?
“You cannot judge me for you cannot understand me”?
I’m more or less convinced anyone can understand me, I’m hardly a complex puzzle.
Ah, but I digress, and this summary is one of beautiful things, not my own self-embroiled reflections.
It has been wonderful to spend so many quiet, peaceful moments with my loved ones, to show them my home and its bounties.
That being said, as contented as they have seemed here, there has been an undercurrent of urgency. There are times when both Allie and Bree have disappeared to run errands and whilst conversation has been pleasant and amenable enough we have not had much discussion as to the events that lead us to now.
I hope they are both alright and that this setting does not put either of them at ill-ease. I care about them both deeply, yet I feel that the more I pry, the further away I push them. My mannerisms must come across as invasive or insensitive, I suppose if they wish to share how they feel with me then they will do so.
Adding to these concerns, I haven’t seen Skodrun for at least one full day, if not more. I was so keen to speak with him, to show him some of the more wild corners of this part of the forest. I do hope he returns to us soon… For I know that heading in the wrong direction here would result in less favourable encounters.
By contrast, I must confess, that my rather puerile machinations to spend time with at least one of my dear ones has yielded a great number of pleasant evenings and late afternoons whiled away kneading bread or basting meat. It’s funny… how focusing on a physical action (such as cutting root vegetables) results in just the right level of distraction for my tongue to loosen.
I must have bored him senseless, prattling on about such mundane events. The time a black bear came through the farm in my youth, how I pestered Dad to teach me to loose arrows from a bow and how I pinched a shortbow in the cellar to practise in secret (or what I presumed was secret) or the first time I wildshaped into a little dormouse.
He is far too kind to me, listening to the endless verbal string of nonsense. It must seem so infantile for someone with his life experience...
Well, that’s neither here nor there, he has a beloved beauty elsewhere. Probably waiting for him as we speak, as I write this.
Hm… How wicked of me to think - no, it’s wholly inappropriate. A good person would not have invited him in or been as selfish. What must Dad think of me… What would this partner of his think of me.
I must learn to detach myself from such feelings. I ought to be focusing on the matter at hand, on the news of the seeds and their affiliation to Vor Yabley.
One way or another, we are all connected to what’s happening, if these are seeds then we are part of their root structure.
When we are all together again, perhaps on one quiet evening after dinner, we can talk about what we ought to do next.
Revelations
I’ve heard it said that in life there are ‘Aha!’ moments.
Times when all the pieces line up and tessolate. Where the picture becomes clearer.
Sometimes proximity isn’t the answer, but taking a step back and observing from a distance will bring clarity and understanding to the puzzle.
But what if distance, in this instance, is not something measured in feet or miles but rather in time.
I like to imagine that time is not a path, not a step leading me forwards with no retreat, but like an ocean. A vast, living and organic space where many things exist, live and die.
So observing a moment in the past, cast by the Dream Seed, felt as real for me as this morning felt. As real as witnessing the pain of others, the crack of metal on wood or the tear of thorns through flesh.
How could I find myself embroiled in something so grossly beyond my skill set.
Witnessing objects of such immense power that simply transporting them yielded dimension-altering gateways.
The gravity of the situation is wholly outside of my sphere of understanding… The visions that led me to leave home must have brought me to the wrong place, there is no way I can be a boon to anyone in such a desperate and life-threatening situation.
All I managed to achieve was the bungling of my own abilities and a consistent lack of understanding.
I must have used Her gifts poorly, or perhaps in a way that was not the intended design. I would never mean to hurt him, or any of my companions for that matter, yet there I stood witnessing the entire sorry spectacle as though it were not my doing… I really must apologise to him when I pluck up the courage to do so.
Am I not suited to this life perhaps?
Close on two centuries in near solitude left me ill-prepared for matters of combat and self-defence. Even in a moment of potential danger I couldn’t move the innocent to take shelter. If I fall down in situations such as these, what possible boon can I be with regards to something so grandiose as the Dream Seed?
Mayhap these excursions had given me a confidence to act in situations that I ought not to. Perhaps it would be better if I took a step back and acted more the neutral healer that I was supposed to be. Once again I find my passion interfering with my duty, maybe that is why my intentions to attack falter? Why I pray to her for strength but find my own abilities lacking…
Regardless, my feelings do not matter nor should they concern anyone. There are much more pressing matters at stake which take infinite priority over a single, below-average, kinless Elf’s petty emotions.
No, I shall press on. Be the healer and the best impartial counsel I can be.
I can pour these thoughts into these pages and lock them away with the bow of a leather chord.
I’ve already hidden enough from them to have gone unnoticed, what does it matter if I add to the laundry list of concealment.
Return to the Sunken Forest
Skodrun returned to us! Safe and sound - well, for the most part! There was a little bit of a kerfuffle with the gentlemen Uno and Duos which could very well have ended badly had Bree and Krist not stepped in. Regardless of the temporary peril though, Skodrun is in one piece and by our sides once again.
I was terribly worried I’d never see him again, and in truth, I had meant to stop him and give him the boots and bracelet that Allie so kindly purchased for him… but the whole morning was such a whirlwind of events no time seemed appropriate to do so.
As we made an attempt to recap Skodrun on what had happened in his absence, Krist must have worked that silver tongue of his to convince the Order to let us venture into the Sunken Forest by ourselves (he really has a way with words that is utterly beyond me, I’m rather glad he volunteers for such discussions).
En route back Bree shared a little about herself, about her work and its nature. She mentioned being connected to a devil but voiced some malcontent at this. I know little of devils or their kin. Honestly, I never thought I’d meet someone as rich in character and interesting as her so when she went on to say that the devil was her father I was further intrigued.
Not too long after this revelation she offered to contact her father and was kind enough to let us witness the exchange.
And what a curious conversation that was. Bree’s (or is it Brifirith’s?) father seemed very keen on ensuring her safety (as one would expect) but Bree insisted on her own proficiencies. An understandable response, as she’s proved more than capable in combat and conversation. He seemed rather disappointed at her response but went on to relay some information about the curious creature that flew from the portal.
‘Adimus’ was its name, some powerful being that was released due to the blind eye turning of one ‘Glasya’.
Both monikers I’m unfamiliar with but perhaps they mean more to my companions with their worldly knowledge? I’ve written them down for reference either way.
Between these revelations however we stopped in to visit the dear, little Grung and to my utter delight we stumbled across an impressive village of theirs!
A settlement put together with little tents, walkways and homesteads. It was utterly charming and at our entrance they came to greet us! Not a single sticky, webbed hand in sight and how overjoyed they were at the gifts we bore.
Young Bung spoke with me; noble, little character that they are, and they took us all to meet their leader. A handsome, yet sadly nameless, Bullywug who resided as a chieftain of the Grung. After much discussion they instructed us to the whereabouts of their most well-preserved temple and gave us materials to smite the ruthless creature remaining from the portal’s opening.
I must say, the teamwork needed to create this blessed water made me feel at least a modicum of usefulness. Between my magicks to heat metal, Skodrun’s geology and mining understanding and Krist’s strength we were able to pulverise the silver required for holy water.
Although, if I do think on it... I’m sure they would’ve managed perfectly well without me between their intelligence and strength.
Regardless, we now possess this blessed water and move to investigate the scene post-portal.
50 Questions
1. Are you a morning person or more of a night owl?
I find both appealing in their own ways but I’m more of a fan of the evening.
2. What’s the first thing you notice about a person when you meet them?
Perhaps their voice or their mannerisms, I like watching peoples' gestures, especially when they're articulating something funny.
3. You see a huge spider in your room. What do you do?
How dear! I suppose it came in because it's nice in here, perfect for pesky flies!
4. If you could go back and change one decision you made in the past, what would you change?
There are numerous times I speak without thinking, probably hurting others' feelings. I'd like to hold my tongue in those moments.
5. Tell me about your first kiss.
My father's kissed me numerous times, as a parent would I suppose. But anything more intimate than that I can't say.
6. Do you give people second chances?
Of course! We're all prone to mistakes, I certainly am, why would I stop at the second chance?
7. Are you a cat person or a dog person?
Both! Is that an acceptable answer?
8. Do you think you’re attractive?
Oh good grief I don't know. I could probably do with losing a bit of weight, having a haircut, new clothes...
9. What’s your worst habit?
I have numerous, I'm sure, but the worst one? Hm... Speaking without thinking?
10. When was the last time you cried?
Hm, a few hours ago I would reckon.
11. Are you a good liar?
Absolutely not! I don't think I'm creative enough to be a good liar!
12. What’s your biggest pet peeve?
I don't really like seeing people judging others without knowing enough about the situation. Random acts of violence upset me. Cruelty or prejudice... Hm, perhaps I'm not as tolerant as I thought I was?
13. Have you ever had your heart broken?
I don't think so, it's been bruised a few times but those heal easily.
14. Are you more likely to use your fists or your words in an argument?
Words, definitely. Why would I argue with violence?
15. What’s something you’re naturally good at?
Eating, I really have a penchant for that!
16. What’s something you had to work hard to be good at?
Understanding others' circumstances, I'm still trying to improve on this but it's challenging.
17. Can you tell when someone is flirting with you?
Hm, sometimes? I think that most of the time I read the wrong signals though.
18. Do you think money can buy happiness?
Well of course not, it's a feeling. You can't buy feelings. Money can buy you lovely things though: jewellery, good food, gifts for loved ones.
19. Do you believe in destiny?
To an extent? It's hard to say, the thought of having my fate preordained makes me a little uncomfortable but considering my role I should probably be more at ease with the concept.
20. Are you a good cook?
Not really, but I can make simple foods with ease. I like to make sandwiches as they can be tailored to individual tastes!
21. What do you think happens after you die?
I hope whatever animates me goes into something useful. Maybe plant matter or animal fodder?
22. Did you have to grow up fast?
Not at all. My father was very patient and kind with me, sometimes I feel like a child even now.
23. Who do you look up to?
My father and friends.
24. When you go to a tavern, what do you order?
I so rarely go to taverns I can't think! An ale perhaps or mead if they have it! And food, a nice selection of meats, cheeses and breads!
25. What do you like most about yourself?
Hm... now that's difficult to answer. Perhaps... No, I don't know really. The moments when I'm useful?
26. What do you like least about yourself?
That's a lot easier to answer. I'm selfish, perhaps to the point of being covetous.
27. Do you want kids someday?
I think so but I'd be concerned as to whether I'd be a good parent.
28. Are you a planner, or more spontaneous?
I try to plan things out in my mind but oftentimes when I do, they don't follow the structure I've laid out.
29. Can you keep a secret?
Yes, of course.
30. Do you like being the center of attention?
Not at all, it makes me feel very self-conscious... If I'm at the centre of attention then there's a lot of pressure on me. What if I disappoint?
31. If you knew you were going to die tomorrow, what would you do today?
What a question! Well, I'd start off by eating and drinking as much fine food as I can. Then I'd like to do all sorts of things I've only dreamt of! Swimming naked in the sea, wildshaping into an animal that can fly, kissing all my friends, being... intimate with someone I care for. But it's no bother as I doubt I'll die tomorrow.
32. Do you enjoy getting all dressed up for a special occasion?
It's weeks since I did get dressed up but I did enjoy it!
33. Where do you feel safe?
At home or in close quarters with my companions
34. Do you love or hate being alone?
I quite like being alone for long periods of time, I'm very much used to it. But that's not to say that I don't enjoy company because I do!
35. What’s the last nightmare you remember having?
It's a reoccuring vision I have during my trance of shambling corpses underground. Very unsettling. I don't always have the vision though and recently I've been having it less and less.
36. Do you admit to mistakes when you make them?
Of course, how else would I learn?
37. Do you want to grow up to be like your parents?
Like my father? Absolutely!
38. How do you deal with being sick? Are you stoic, or super whiny?
Oh I'm needy just as anyone else would be! It's quite nice to be pampered when you feel poorly.
39. What did your parents expect from you when you were born?
I don't know really. I know my father would like me to be true to myself and kind to others.
40. Do you have a strong sense of style?
Oh my no.
41. Would you rather camp outdoors or stay the night in an inn?
Probably stay in an inn, I like comfortable beds and warm places.
42. Is there a food that most people like that you absolutely hate?
I like most food to be completely honest.
43. Are you more of a hoarder or a minimalist?
Hoarder, through and though! If I see a nice looking flower, pebble, animal bone, I can't resist! If I don't take them in, they'll be forgotten!
44. Are you superstitious?
Not really.
45. Are you the kind of person who remembers people’s birthdays and pets’ names and stuff?
I certainly try to, or if not, I write them down. I've written down the birthdays of all of my friends but their companion names (Bitey and Coco) were very easy to remember.
46. What do you do to feel better when you’re sad?
Hm... I tend eat and drink to excess when I'm sad. It's not a very healthy coping mechanism I know...
47. Is it hard for you to trust someone?
Not at all.
48. Are you susceptible to peer pressure?
I try not to be.
49. If you decided to stop adventuring and settle down, what kind of job would you take?
I already have a job, I simply need to return to it. I plan to tend my father's shrine into my twilight years, caring for anybody who comes by to visit. In my daydreams this is something I'm not doing by myself but I've yet to come across anyone else who would like to share in the role with me.
50. As a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?
Hm... probably a rabbit.
Just One More Drink
I poured myself an especially large cup of whiskey so I suppose I’ll sup on this, write this entry, and get myself into a trance.
It’s felt like donkeys years since I enjoyed a good drink. I’m fairly keen on my alcoholic beverages but nothing’s quite up there like your mead, dad. So sweet and potent, I remember taking the first sip after those painstaking eight months of waiting.
“Strong enough to curl your toes.”
You always said that…
We left the Sunken Forest this evening, making our way back into town with Allie’s associates. Upon reaching what had originally been the bridge The Order calmly made their way across while Bree and Krist were so very keen on riding me as a shark.
I daren’t say to them, but I was a little nervous - I’ve not taken on that form before.
My nerves were assuaged by Krist’s boundless enthusiasm. I’m not sure I’ve seen him quite that excited about anything, in regards to myself at least... In hindsight, I suppose he’s just a great fan of fish? Perhaps the facts I relayed him about sharks piqued his interest?
Regardless, I managed to safely transport Krist, Tint, Dia and Bree one-by-one across the water. Making them all a little wet but with no threat of falling.
Being a fish is rather delightful, respiration through gills is a new experience to me - it felt like taking a very long drink.
Silly thing to think, moreso to put down on paper… The drink must be making me sentimental.
We ended up coming to the library that Allie and I investigated earlier and were able borrow a single room as sleeping quarters. The librarian kindly put out additional bedding so we could all stay together and Elrond was good enough to cede us his room.
I made to discuss our next move… but I must’ve done so insensitively as I upset poor Dia.
My wording or intentions must have been unkind. I regret trying to voice my opinion, for what little it’s worth, it hurt her. If I had gone through what she has with dad… How thoughtless of me. I made to try to console her, but I have a feeling I only compounded the issue with the encouragement of liquor.
So Bree, Dia and I sat drinking together, chatting amongst ourselves, the two of them in their fatigue succumbed to the alcohol much faster than I did (which in part is probably due to my history).
Dad and I drank together quite frequently, Bree seemed a little taken aback by that so I wonder if that is a curious thing to do with one’s parent.
Krist returned from checking on Allie, cheery as ever, and we tried to distract ourselves from the day’s events with drinking games and frivolities.
I can’t believe I suggested arm wrestling… What a silly, foolish thing to put forward in hindsight.
Luckily, instead we ended up playing two truths, one lie. In which we learnt that Krist had been in the courts in Waterdeep and performed for royalty. Me, in my folly, confused court with a royal court and assumed that it was a trick statement!
After Dia had revealed a sad truth about herself in that she’s not met her ancestral mother or father Krist suggested we check on Allie.
(I… know how Dia feels, not that I dare say so. I wonder what my birth mother was like, what my father did. Who they were...)
I was more than happy to do this, and pootled down to the library with a motley selection of foods for Allie to eat. She was unenthused however, and simply returned to the room, promising me those three questions.
So, in the safety of these four walls, I asked.
I queried why she was always in such a rush at first, as by my own perception she moves with great haste in all things. She took the question literally, but I expanded upon it, desperate to fathom why it is that she moves with such determination.
She explained that this drive came with maturity and a specific motivation.
A goal, so to speak.
So I proceeded to query this goal and she referred to Bree:
“What would you do if you could change your heritage forever.”
An answer, of sorts, but not one I fully comprehend. Is this a point to link to her Aasimar bloodline and the pressures that come along with it?
This provoked a very intense discussion between the two of them.
Truthfully, I wasn’t sure what to say during the entire conversation. Heated exchanges like that leave me very reclusive and quiet. They spoke of their origins, their celestial and infernal blood, how they were exceptional just as Krist is in his uniqueness.
I’m afraid there’s very little about me that is exceptional or different. I can offer no understanding or empathy in their struggles.
As their conversation turned to conflict, thankfully Krist stepped in to mediate the situation. Thank goodness that he did really… Although, in truth, I feel a little concerned that he asked me for my opinion.
Such as it is.
I have the least authority in these, or any, matters really. I put forward what I believe. That if we care for one another we can share the responsibilities of doing what we feel is right, in focusing on the Chaos Storms we may find their origin and aid Buttercup and her children.
It was at that time that the Dream Seed resonated with a curious, warm light.
Bree took it from her bag and, through her understanding, it longed for Krist’s memories.
[THE ENTRY CONTINUES IN HALFLING]
Mae'n edrych yn ofidus iawn nawr.
Rhaid bod y cof am ei gariad yn y gorffennol wedi gwneud iddo deimlo… beth fyddai'r gair? A all un fod yn hiraethu am gariad? Rwy'n siŵr nad wyf yn gwybod.
Ni allaf ddweud fy mod yn synnu’n fawr ei fod mewn cariad â dynes hardd o lys brenin. Pa frenin prin y gwn i ... ond mae'n ymddangos yn addas i rywun tebyg iddo. Byddai rhywun gyda'i flynyddoedd, ei brofiad a'i galon hael, garedig, yn sicr yn perthyn i uchelwr hardd.
Gobeithio ... bydd yn teimlo'n well yn y bore ar ôl iddo dawelu.
Pa sillrwydd i mi deimlo mor ddigalon, dywedais wrthyf fy hun y byddai'r teimladau hyn bron yn sicr yn mynd heb eu harchwilio, felly pam nawr rwy'n teimlo fy mod wedi cael fy threchu gymaint.
Efallai mai dyma’r union ffordd iddo i rywun sydd wedi gwahanu oddi wrth gymdeithas â mi.
Merch goedwig wirion…
Dim ond cadw at yr hyn rydych chi'n ei wybod.
A wyddoch chi ddim am gariad.
Knife’s Edge
Beat・en・and・Bruised
Life・hang・ing・by・just・one・thread
Where・to・go・from・here?
Perhaps I’m selfish to be grateful that they’re alive but so many close calls. So much hurt and suffering.
I’ve no time to write about what happened, but if I fall or this diary leaves my possession let it be known that I’ve grown to lov--
Culmination
When I was a child, more so than I am now, I read tales of youths and their disconnection to their adoptive parents. That the lack of shared blood prevented a true connection… Perhaps I’m simply too naive to notice something like that, as now, at this moment on a knife’s edge, I long for your wisdom and comfort dad.
You never honeyed your words to soften their blow. Speaking always with a gentility and honesty that steered me down the right path.
But now, in my hopes that everyone would be safe and sound, I worry I’ve swayed the course of events so that nobody is secure or content. What I’d do for a few words of guidance… Is this why you kept so separated from society? The weight of loved ones is both comforting and confounding. There are times when I feel I understand those I have grown to love, then a heartbeat later I concern myself that I’ve caused great offense and upset.
I’ve been afforded this moment’s reprieve, seated next to dear Allie, for whom I am greatly concerned… Her Order approaches with clear, by-the-book ideals of peace, ideals she is beholden to. Come conflict I know full well that she will join their ranks, despite her desire to keep Buttercup’s children safe.
I can’t imagine how this must be for her and despite all of the hardships she has faced she still approaches all situations with her characteristic, pragmatic optimism. To have such a clear line of sight, such utter clarity, is an enviable quality. I feel I have done her a disservice in my indecisiveness… I long for her sort of clear decision making, but come the time for such lucidity? I flounder.
It’s no different from this afternoon’s conflict. My hesitation to fight cost my dear ones and I our health and stamina… Am I so naive in my decision making that I cannot commit to a single outcome? I so long for a world in which words, understanding and patience are the weapons of war. But my Elvish fell short and my companions had to compensate for my inadequacies.
The thought of burdening others pains me so deeply.
I stayed this course in the hopes that I could live out Her design to heal and serve others, yet I wasted time on healing myself. The visions I thought had led me to Mulmaster persist and I have no way to abate them.
What if… my being here has caused inconvenience?
My vote cast to explore the Sunken Forest swayed the group. Would Evan have chosen so recklessly had he been in my place? My own selfish desires have resulted in this.
At Bree’s concerned I promised to protect her, but what if I simply can’t. What if I am incapable of the promises I hand out.
Birdfeed haphazardly cast out for the starlings, the magpie and the robin.
Dad.
Father… I’m frightened.
Small Town Life
What an afternoon!
It was delightful to explore the tight-knit alleyways and marketplace of Ylraphon with Allie. She was terribly patient with me, I can only suppose she’s been to places of this sort numerous times before. There was so much I wanted to explore, and unlike our time in Mulmaster, there was no immediate threat.
Of course we were moving with haste (I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Allie move that quickly before, in fact!) but even the few, precious moments we had to peruse the marketplace’s wares were very exciting for me.
I wanted to buy small gifts for our companions and Allie, with her wits, suggested gemstone bracelets. A marvelous idea! We came across the sweetest, little Jeweller who crafted bracelets for each of us (including a necklace for dear Bitey!).
I had so wanted to trick my dears with a joke, substituting the bracelet gifts for rations, but Bree and Krist in their open-heartedness took the rations to be the true gifts and I felt terribly foolish afterwards. Perhaps I do not quite have the charm to pull the wool over their eyes in a jest.
Regardless, it was very nice to see their reactions at the actual presents. I look down at my wrist now as I write and the little, twinkling gems bring a warm, soft happiness to me.
In addition to our shopping Allie and I went to the library to investigate the number of incidents relating to the Sunken Forest. I had expected silence but instead we were greeted by a number of Allie’s colleagues. A curious group to be certain. One I recognised as the man in full-plate armour I had healed a day ago, but the others were new to me.
Their manner of speech made me a little uncomfortable, in all honesty.
(Nobody refers to me as Miss Gladenstone)
The younger of the group - Elrond - was really quite unpleasant to Allie. A transgression that perhaps I should have overlooked, but on the second instance I couldn’t help myself but scold him for his poor behaviour. I hope that in doing this I did not put Allie in a difficult position… I strongly disliked his manner and I can’t stand for anyone disrespecting my dear ones.
The authority figure, a Captain Camore, came across as stern and determined. I questioned her intentions regarding the storm and felt a sense of rehearsed rhetoric to her words.
What was it she said?
‘We will do what we must with as little sacrifice to innocent life as possible.’
That sort of authoritative clarity brought forth a shiver in me. I find it challenging enough to make the smallest of decisions, I found it excruciating to decide to ask the Grung to find the Chaos Gems… I wonder what it must feel like to be so secure in your choices.
Which is where we walk towards now… Towards those sweet amphibians.
Although not before I was (sweetly) teased about turning into a shark.
I can’t imagine why my loves would rather get wet and ride me over walking across a simple bridge.
A Missing Friend
I’ve become accustomed to walking and writing at the same time (although I think my handwriting suffers a bit for it).
Us five--four are currently making our way to the city of Ylraphon, working through shock after shock.
In the dead of night dear Skodrun up and left us, leaving his tent and a few of his belongings behind.
I still can’t quite understand it, he seemed so very happy with us. Such boundless energy and that cheery disposition. Did something happen to startle him off or did he perhaps receive some secret missive to leave post-haste.
Either way I felt upset at the loss of his presence. Everyone was keen to track him down, despite the encroaching evening, and we moved to search for him at the Witching Hour. In doing so we came across a peculiar and aggressive community of plant-like creatures.
In truth I was overtired and had I a jot of sense I would've suggested we search in the morning… But I missed a great deal of conversation and ended up bumbling into these plant-bipeds. They attacked instantaneously and a terrible fight ensued. Allie and Bree made the most of my impediment magicks and Kirst finished off a fearsome bark-formed giant like he was cracking open a boiled egg.
I found myself borrowing from Her power a great deal that fight. So frightened I was that I wouldn’t have the strength to keep everyone safe. Poor Krist took the brunt of the damage, and for every blow I was there trying to heal it.
I was so exhausted by the end of it I felt like one of those old hollow trees you find in dead woods. From a distance it’s in one piece but upon closer inspection it’s nothing but a tired shell.
Not even two-hundred years old and I’m calling myself ‘tired’, Dad would split his sides laughing at that.
I can’t really recall much of the journey back to the tree-house. I suppose I put one foot in front of the other and got there, but much else I can’t recall.
I do remember sitting on the stairs and pulling the splinter of wood from my shoulder. Staring at it for a time. Now that I think on it, I can’t even remember how long I looked at it.
Blood soaking into bark.
I must’ve looked quite a state sitting there with my stained clothing staring at a chunk of wood. A funny, pathetic, little thing, really.
I had meant to tidy myself up before going into the tree-house, but Krist must have spotted me sitting there. Sweet man, forever concerned for others. I hadn’t meant to burden him or anyone else with my clumsiness during the fight, yet he spotted me and promptly took me to bed.
It is… very nice not to trance by myself.
I hope that I don’t add to his worries. I’m hardly the competent city-folk he must be accustomed to being around. Silly forest girl.
Speaking of which, after having a (thankfully) brief conversation with Buttercup, stopping off at the sunken ship to acquire funds and a delightful encounter with my darling Grung once again we now make haste towards a city.
A city wherein we are not accused of murder or other such foul deeds.
Allie intends to conduct research whilst Bree and Krist are to go investigating with the populace.
I’m not wholly sure who I could aid in this. I’m certainly not gifted academically as Allie is and I do not have the guile and charm of Bree and Krist - why combined they would have charisma in spades.
I wouldn’t want to be a bother to either party… Perhaps I could simply keep Allie company in whichever book repository she finds herself in. I have little experience in such places, but my curiosity leads me to wonder what they’re like.
Under different circumstances, I would’ve loved to have come here to peruse the quiet libraries with Allie at our leisure, to visit exotic haberdasheries with Bree, drink rich mead and ale with Skodrun and go dancing with Krist in a tavern alive with music.
Silly daydreams. I’ll let myself indulge in them a while longer.
Chaos
It’s lovely here.
I would never have thought to make my home in a tree but there’s something very pleasant about it. Is it a shade of symbiosis perhaps? I live here in your arms and in exchange I keep away what might hurt you. Is that harmony or a bargain, I wonder… But I’m getting too caught up in my ponderings again.
After our conflict had finished we went to explore the curious structure that the teleportation magicks left behind. Allie recognised the structures to be ‘Chaos Gems’, not a material I’m wholly familiar with but apparently it can contain a source of power.
One of them, after much investigation, proved to be the incubator a Chaos Dragon.
A dragon… to think that I’ve been so close to such an incredible creature.
As this truth came to light we entered into a debate on what to do with the crystal that encased the creature.
I… didn’t know what to think, is it honestly my right to debate the fate of such a tiny, young thing. What gives me the authority to decide what happens to it. It’s… just a babe.
But I suppose by that right, if Dad had done the same thing I would most certainly have been dead. He chose to take me in, maybe a truly neutral party would not have.
This spawned talk amongst us of our heritages, our pasts and where we all come from.
Perhaps Allie is right, I can’t understand her as much as I can’t understand Bree, Krist or Skodrun’s backgrounds.
I suppose it’s a little different for me, I see their personalities before I see their ancestry.
I see Allie’s quick wit, her ingenious and methodical thinking. Her refreshing honesty delivered with her characteristic bluntness under which crystal emotions sleep.
I see Bree’s sensitive heart, her desire to do good and care for others. A patchwork love that’s held together with golden thread.
I see Krist’s light heart weighed down by the chains of sadness. I hear a melody in a music box with a broken key.
I see Skod’s wicked smile and gemstone eyes that belie a calcified disassociation. A man who wants a clan after leaving one underground.
They are so tied to their heritages. I wonder what mine is and why I was cast aside.
Just another babe in the woods, I suppose.
I wish I had the courage to reach out to them, put my fragile ego aside to heal them.
Isn’t that my role in this, to be a healer first and myself second.
We decided to set out to gather crystals to send this dragon back to its origins. I’m not wholly sure what direction this will take as none of us trust this ethereal woman (Buttercup).
I lost my cool once again with her, I need to keep my feelings in check really (I don’t suppose it’s very Druid-like to get so angry) but when she manipulated Allie...
I wanted to strike down that incorporeal creature in an instant.
Instead I threatened her, a promise I intend to keep. If she moves to manipulate another of my dear ones.
I will destroy her.
There’s something so heartless and cruel in controlling another’s thoughts. I wanted to pull Allie into my chest and hold her, will away that shroud of unkind magick.
But I know better than to do that, Allie doesn’t enjoy being held very much!
Now I’m waiting to see what our investigation into Skodrun yields. Bree… confided her thoughts that Skodrun appears cursed and, now this is truly wicked, but I was elated that she chose to share this with me.
That is dreadful, isn’t it? I am, of course, very concerned for Skodrun… But that little mark of trust touched me.
She’d sensed something unnatural in his fascination with his boots where I had chalked it up to his delightful eccentricities. I knew she was perceptive!
…
I hope she’s not very perceptive around me, I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve.
Summer Frost
How today escalated!
Things started off quietly in the belly of the broken pirate ship. Allie and Skodrun popped outside to observe the storm (but not until I embarrassed myself trying to make something up to get Skodrun out of trouble, thank goodness Krist was there - he has such a way with words!). Whilst they observed I eavesdropped on Bree’s conversation with Buttercup.
As much as I try not to be wary of Buttercup, I can’t see past how easily she manipulated Krist. Her docile and sympathetic attitude now does not tie in with that. As far as I see it, there’s something else there, lying under the surface… The glass-like surface of mangroves under which a cunning, carnivore bides its time.
One point alarmed me, whether said in jest or not, Buttercup hinted at a period of solitude of 100,000 years. Anything that could regale an age such as that is not to be trifled with.
So, once the storm had cleared, we decided to pursue its heart without her (thankfully).
As we walked the sodden mud gave way to crystal snow.
I know, I know… I ought to have been disturbed, perhaps even affronted, by such magicks. But at its purest (not soiled with footprints or the like) it was lovely, iridescent like Allie’s hair. How it caught the light through the trees… Lovely!
I wanted to eat some of it but thought that… probably would’ve come across as a little strange. That is strange, isn’t it?
Regardless, I was not the only one to enjoy the snow. Bree and Krist had a little snowball fight which was just darling to watch! Two big children!
Well, which is to say they’re larger than children, not… preternaturally big. They’re both lovely sizes.
Bree’s aim was so true I think I saw her knock the wind out of Krist - I had to bite my lip so as to not laugh. Not at his defeat so much as my own shock. Bree is so dear and sweet, to see such a perfect aim… I think she’s been keeping a keen eye on Skodrun’s archery skills!
So, those boys being their silly, sweet selves ended up playing further. Skodrun deftly walking in the snow on his hands so as not to spoil those boots he adores so, Krist holding up his legs (Skodrun’s lucky he doesn’t wear a dress).
On which note, by this time I was frozen to the bone. Thank goodness I wear the armour and boots I do or else I would’ve been an icicle after the first snowball had been lobbed. And me, unable to really hide how I feel about anything it seems, must’ve looked cold. Darling Bree came over and warmed me up.
Her touch was like a softly crackling fire on a midwinter’s eve. I’m enchanted by her at this point, it’s all I can do not to walk clinging to her like I used to cling to Dad’s leg as a babe.
We held hands, walked and talked for a spell.
Conversation ebbed from light to more substantial. We spoke of our feelings and somehow… I became frail and emotional about her and our companions. She noted how I judge others and myself, she with no preconceptions about my emotions. She said that I… was perhaps unfair on myself from time to time and that if roles were reversed I would defend myself from my own criticisms.
I had never thought of things that way, it gave me a lot to think on during the walk but also a great deal to feel grateful for. I’m still at a loss as to how I managed to find myself with four of the sweetest souls in Faerun.
But I digress, we came across a mirror image of the Moon Temple, this time much more ethereal in the snow. Similar runes and markings about, but no Grungs (to my sadness).
As the portal began to close, Bree, Coco and Skodrun (Coco, what a dear little kitten!) went to investigate. They returned to tell us that inside there had been a mountain range, which through deduction I know now to be the Aasarian Mountains.
Before we had a moment to discuss these findings we heard a man and creature in distress. Bree and Skodrun, of noble and fair heart, decided we must immediately go to their aid and we all followed.
At crossing a frozen lake we spotted the unsettling black ooze from the forest. Curious and hungry thing. I tried to distract it by casting loose snow into away from my dearest ones as Krist effortlessly threw them across one by one.
What a bother.
I went to him, saying I could most certainly cross on my own (I imagine he must’ve seen straight through such a blatant lie) and out-smarted me saying that throwing me would decrease the risk - which is true… Had I not been eating so much recently, I must have put on weight! Which is all well and good, apart from when someone needs to throw me. How very awkward! Allie and Bree are much lighter in frame than I… But is Skodrun too? Goodness me, he must’ve strained something in the throw as he nearly fell through the ice immediately afterwards.
Perhaps I ought to half my portions?
Oh dear, the pragmatist in me knows that’s an unlikely future.
Regardless of my self-indulgent narcissism! We came across a great, terrifying beast (like an ape, but with four arms over two!). It was attacking some poor knight-like gentleman who we later rescued from this beast and two… curious and unsettling creatures. Not great in strength like the ape but deft with manipulative magicks, I felt waves of them wash over me (probably due to my somewhat suspicious nature) but poor Krist and Skodrun were affected: one fleeing in a moment of terror, the other casting aside his beloved weapon as if red hot.
In the end, we triumphed, and spoke with the armoured fellow.
Well, I did not speak with him, he conversed mainly with Allie with whom he had an unsettlingly fascination with.
Ah but Allie, dear Allie, would have none of his fawning and she dismissed him readily. Now we are to decide what our next step is to take, but first I ought to see to Skodrun.
Ghost Mother (Pt 1)
I suppose I ought to get up.
I can hear hushed voices talking and the clatter of Skodrun’s cooking. But this little tent feels like a universe unto itself, a glade in this dark swampland. A cosmos of filtered light, earthy smells and visionless trances.
I have been writing down my exploits, these records, to regale you with on my return dad. So we could sit in the garden together in the mid-afternoon sun and you could laugh at my adventures… As time went on I saw more people in our little garden.
Allie prodding the Fly Agaric curiously and piping up at moments of my story-telling she was involved in. Saying ‘I came up with the plan for that one!’ with a charming little grin on her face.
Bree bathed in the dappled gold light from the forest canopy. Quietly listening with Bitey on her lap, eyes welling with tears recalling the difficult moments but letting them subside when happier times arrived.
Skodrun returning with a bounty from the forest fit for a family. Our family. Laughing and joking at the ease of his hunt, insisting on preparing the meat himself and Dad getting distracted witnessing such fine craft.
And Krist… (or is it Aramaris?) I always imagined he’d be smiling and toying with his guitar. Doing what he always does: listening attentively, non-judgmentally. What does platinum look like in the light filtered through the High Forest’s treetops and how would honest laughter sound when--
--I shouldn’t think on it too strongly.
Because where that vision once bloomed, now it shrinks back.
Is it the loss of the light, or just the evening rolling in.
How frightened I was to see one so dear bewitched so entirely. It took all my strength, puny as it is, to not do something awful. I tried to think of dad’s wisdom, his patience and understanding… but I don’t think it was there. I could feel rage building in me, like a small flame embracing hay. It billowed up in me: fed by lies, laughter and manic dancing.
I felt the little crescents of my nails digging into my palms…
(I really should trim my nails.)
My companions, of course, kept a much more level head than me and went about communicating with this magick-user’s so-called children. They found out their names, the young man and lady, Tint and Dia respectively.
Due to the magick-user’s unsettling intentions I grew concerned that these two were ensnared in an enchantment similar to Krist’s, so I put forward that we out to try to help them.
It was Bree that came up with a plan, using the Dream Seed she is to gauge their emotions over the breakfast that Skodrun now prepares.
I suppose I ought to get up…
[Fae’s handwriting changes and she continues to write in Elven.]
The Lost Moon Temple
A moment of respite outside of the Moon Water Temple, just enough for me to scribble down what brought us here.
I think of everything that happened up until this point: consoling Cala, offering to see her in the future and the warm embrace I shared with her… But that all seems to pale in comparison to my poor choices.
Poor Sandy… If I had not spoken to him, encouraged him to join us, he would still be alive.
He was an innocent creature that I lured to his doom. Was it the same with the Owlbears? Had I just… not been there, would they have survived?
I feel like I’m failing Her, in every choice I make. Would she be disappointed in me, in my decisions, how each of them lead to death. And whilst I understand that death is the shadow of life, how can I bring Her healing wisdom when each choice I make leads to an early end.
Dad, would you be disappointed in me?
I was so useless to my friends when it happened. I couldn’t think of combat and whilst everyone did their part, I was searching vainly for poor Sandy. Just… pieces of him remained. So horrible.
I hardly even noticed that Krist had picked me up and took me to safety until he spoke to me.
What a mess, both literally and figuratively… I promised myself I’d be strong but all I could do was sit there and weep in his arms. What a feeble Druid I must be. I didn’t want to cause him more reason to worry, I see him trying so hard to care for the group and what a burden that must be. I wanted to be a support, not further strain.
I was so close to breaking down when he asked me if I was all right, I suppose as luck would have it, Skodrun snapped me out of my sadness. I’m sure that’s a good thing. Krist already has a lot on his mind.
Funny how he wiped away my tears with cloth and not with magic… almost as though he remembered my comment about my preference for cleaning myself physically and not preternaturally.
When he put me down it wasn’t long before we came across another creature: a Shambling Mound. A horrid thing that nearly ended up eating him. What a terrible place this is that we’ve found ourselves in. Pulling Krist from the vines I was petrified… I hope he didn’t see that in my face.
We fled from some curious ooze-like creatures, our attacks ineffective against them, and found our way to the temple. I felt Bree’s concern in leaving these beasts, how I wanted to console her, to confide in her that I understand her desire to do good… but perhaps I push myself on her too much.
A quiet moment together speaking of frog-tracking was… nice. For a moment, I thought I was away from danger and back home. I’m sure Dad would love to speak with Bree about her hunting ways, it seems that she is gifted in that art.
Upon arrival Bree, Krist and Skodrun proceeded into the temple but Allie did not.
I could sense her frustration at the situation and, despite my desire to enter the temple, my longing to be with her was stronger.
She sees the world from a lens of logic and practicality, yet the view is softened by her kind heart. Something she insists she does not possess one but I am certain it is there.
I posed my desire to come to this forest and begrudgingly she came along and I am so thankful for that. I can sense she is concerned for our safety and she, in her level-headedness, is the one who has kept us safe on many an occasion. I wish I had the words to thank her…
But, I must stop writing now, it seems Skodrun has shot one of the little Grungs...
Underwater Realisations
I’ve sat myself down besides Allie, tucking her in with my blanket once again as she refrains from entering the tent to sleep beside young Cala. With hours to myself either end of the evening I decided to write, as I have most nights, in the hope that doing so will help me to organise my scattered thoughts.
If my thoughts were but objects, to be neatly arranged, kept or discarded. Weighed in in a perfect set of golden scales, judged by their worth.
There are moments when I feel like I have clarity and sense, but as quickly as they come, they leave me. Brief as the seasons.
We travelled by horse and cart all of yesterday and when we came to rest we did so in an open little glade. En route it was good to eavesdrop Krist and Skodrun’s conversation, to see their bond and genuine concern for one another.
Upon stopping Allie suggested with bathe, which I very much liked the sound of, so after a quick search we came across an idyllic little pond: scattered with lily pads, fish and baby frogs. Irresponsibly, I was keen to share those waters, but moments later both Allie and Bree left. Now, with hindsight, I understand they left to see to the horses. At the time, however, I was sure they were to return.
I decided to wait for them, trying not to peer openly at the boys as they so boldly stripped off in front of me.
I must say, two-dimensional anatomy is quite different in the flesh. What beautiful men they are, both in body and in mind. Well-kept, toned bodies: fit and healthy, the contrast in their skin night and day. Refined muscles, one a blank canvas the other inlaid with ink - fantastical designs of symbols and portraits. Handsome, smiling faces and bright pale eyes: one of them brighter than the Moon herself. Their bond and comfort with one another brought me great happiness.
And as the two men bathed and I continued to wait.
What a foolish thought now that I cast my mind back to it. Just because I am comfortable bathing with others, doesn’t necessarily mean they are. At the time I didn’t think on it, nudity has never bothered me before, thinking they were yet to come I eventually bathed. But they never returned…
So halfwitted I am. I see myself again as a child. An expectant Elf girl thinking that I can bond simply because I can exist. Because I can speak and listen. Those are hardly likable qualities.
I suppose there was some peace in sinking into that water by myself.
So my bathing ended and I robed myself. Skodrun went to hunt for supper and Krist and I returned to make camp to prepare for the night’s sleep.
Not long after we did this we heard a terrible noise, like the cracking of thunder, followed by the rain, and Bree returned to camp alone. I was concerned for her, I wouldn’t have wanted her to catch a chill in the midnight rain, but she dismissed my concerns and went directly to sleep without anything to eat.
I… can’t decide if I should’ve done more, said more… but perhaps I am not as insightful as I once thought I was. Encouragement to speak seems to pressure her and letting her follow what I deem as a sad path leaves me feeling guilty. I suppose, in this situation, it is better that I feel the discomfort at my own ineptitude to communicate than force her into a difficult conversation… Yes, I hazard that… is the better choice.
By the time Skodrun’s dinner was prepared Allie had set herself to bed, so I ate alone.
Well, I suppose not fully alone, She was in the rain with me.
We set off early in the morning but our journeying was interrupted by a pair of rather rude bears after a Halfling woman who we found out later to be called Cala. Bree camouflaged her appearance and I talked down the pairs.
My frustrations are starting to show, I was unkind to them in scolding them… I should not have been so abrupt with them.
They left and Cala joined us on the cart after Allie kindly paid her for the loss of her pigs.
She was a talkative young woman, speaking of a nearby Sunken Forest and its Moon Water Temple.
I can’t lie, it sounded like a fascinating place. Dedicated to Our Lady of Silver: Selûne. The area has yielded union between many races but is plagued by ‘Dimensional Chaos Storms’. Now that I sit here I do wonder what the nature of these things are, and if there is any possibility that they could be linked to an artifact similar to the Dream Seed we carry.
On which note, a small part of me was tempted to ask to borrow the Dream Seed last night to see Dad… but whatever courage I had in me to ask and try the artifact left me. If… I could just have some comfort or understanding, guidance.
What if my presence here is nothing but hardship for them. Sometimes… I feel such frustration and disappointment in myself. Every action I take seems to burn bridges, not build them.
I tried to make merriment with Allie, to play a guessing game with rewards at my victory or loss… I used to play similar games with Dad, bargaining for silly things on the backs of childish wagers.
Folly.
Immature.
Grow up, girl. Realise your practical uses. What can I possibly offer besides my magicks, who I am underneath them is of no import.
Unable to Lie
I suppose now is as good a time to write of our exploits as any, sitting here in this stolen carriage, lulled by the rhythm of the horses hooves.
I wait for the day when I can claim that all events prior to my writing have been calm and serene. But today followed what has now become a norm in my life: a concoction of confusion, fear and concern.
After embarrassingly extending my trance for a full eight hours (I’ve never done that before… but it was blissfully absent of my usual visions) I awoke to the sound of Skodrun making breakfast. He must’ve been awake all night… and without a single complaint he served us food with a smile.
I moved to rouse Bree but in doing so I sensed that she was uneasy about something. I pried, which I now know I should not have done, and asked her how she was. She deflected my queries and I’m concerned that by trying to encourage her to speak I’ve only offended her. It was foolish of me to think that I could simply ask her how she was and expect her to trust me with that information… I think I must have done something quite bizarre as she proceeded to ask me if I was a mother.
This accusation was later escalated when I proceeded to ask Allie how she was and she also asked me about my maternal nature. As if this wasn’t awful enough in itself she then proceeded to ask Krist about the matter at which point I felt the urge to get inside the cooking caldron and emerge a century later.
Is this not how loved ones act around one another? When I see such terrifying sights I must check on my girls--my dear female companions. I simply wanted to show them that I notice them.
But I am sidetracked with my own vanity.
As we finished our hearty breakfast of ‘Grey’ Kirst and Allie spoke, she encouraged him to vocalise his relationship with his late father: Meras Treestrider.
What a very literal family name, come to think of it, doesn’t Krist refer to himself as Krist Novenbourn? Curious…
That was quite a difficult exchange to listen to, dear Krist has a lot of pain buried under his wit and charm.
Yet more was revealed as Skodrun shared a memory with us. He showed us his youth, where he was drinking with his two Dwarven brothers. There was a light, jovial tone to this - drinking, arm wrestling and good-natured verbal jabs. It was a nice moment, up until the obvious exclusion Skodrun had undergone in regards to his past passion of mining. Due to his Wood Elf heritage he was declined to enter the mines with his kin.
He later revealed that upon realising this divide he left his home to become a hunter. He brushed this aside of course, as he tends to do, but I wonder how he truly feels about this.
Is this a common trait? I felt foolish and ill-equipped for sharing my sadness in my failings as a Druid and only when pushed did my feelings and tears flow. Are we so afraid to bear our hearts to our friends, but so willing to raise sword and shield in combat that could result in our deaths?
When you love someone you wish to protect them, but in protecting them you shield them.
A blow can be absorbed by my flesh and so too does my heart swallow its feelings.
For what end though, my loves, as I let myself gobble up my fears hungrily.
Am I anything at all if I swallow up who I am so readily and do you notice terror at the corner of my lips.
What idle fancies…
Regardless, we made the choice to separate and investigate the festival once more.
I came along after Krist.. disguised me (I’m still not wholly sure what I looked like after that).
Much to my concern I was of little help. No, I was actively unhelpful.
As Bree and Skodrun made to investigate I became distracted by a gnome who asked me for a dance. How silly… to let myself have that moment when they were working so determinedly. It feels like an age since I’ve drunk and danced. Since I’ve shifted into the form of a wolf and run through the forests: the cool night air of the High Forest a perfume as sweet as honeysuckle.
When my two companions returned they had unearthed some details, but obviously feeling inadequate with my lack of contribution I pushed for further investigation. My plan was a wild one but resulted in Bree and I facing down Vor Yabley.
What a fool I am. I had only meant to glean some information from him, but ended up yielding much. I placed us in danger and despite my temporary camouflage I’m certain he would recognise me.
This stubborn streak in me could doom those I care for. When he asked me if I knew of the dream seed I should’ve simply lied. I should have, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t lower myself to lie to this man. Charming as he might appear there was an ill wind about him. Compromising myself for his approval felt… wrong.
And now I have set in motion the cogs that turn with a mechanical, deadly precision.
My terrible, wicked selfishness stops me from leaving them. I have grown so attached that if I distance myself from my dear ones… Then I will be alone.
So we fled under cover of Bree’s magic. Made our way back to Allie and Krist, packed up camp and ran.
After some time we found a campsite filled with carriages and horses. Skodrun immediately suggested stealing them but Allie, Bree and I were ill-at-ease with the idea. As Allie suggested we put it to a vote I pulled Bree aside, seeing her discomfort, and suggested that if she went first then I would take the brunt of the final decision… She seemed distant at the suggestion, and I dim-wittedly asked her again if she was all right and to promise me to tell me later if something had upset her.
Whilst she agreed to it I felt something in me sink. What an anti-social, thoughtless creature I am to push the poor woman twice in one day.
My frustrations at my own ineptitude led me to cast my vote, which Bree voted against. We took the horses and a carriage.
Poor things, these horses, taken so far from their loved ones. As they gallop to pull this carriage I wonder if they are ever to see their kin again.
As we left the lands neighbouring Mulmaster Bree and Allie began to express their disagreement with the situation. Watching it only made that sour feeling in the pit of my stomach grow. For all of my so-called ‘motherly’ ways… I could do nothing but watch.
Bizarrely enough, the conversation randomly took a turn. Allie shared what she had learnt from reading Krist’s journal. At first, I didn’t really understand their discourse. The code word of ‘bingy-bingy’ kept being repeated and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked and later found out that the contents (or at least some of the contents of Krist’s journal) are about sex.
He had mentioned that he had been with two partners, but I had no idea that he meant simultaneously!
I’m flustered just writing about it, thankfully he’s not sitting in this compartment.
I wonder if there’s a way that I could accidentally read that journal’s contents.
The Unreal Made Corporeal
Sitting here, bathed in the warm glow of our campfire, it’s hard to put down into words everything that happened this afternoon.
Allie managed to distract Brody’s attention just long enough for Krist to take the Dream Seed, but, as we later came to understand, doing so invoked a defense mechanism that manifested a number of curious and dark creatures.
Truthfully, my first thought was that they were merely illusions there to scare us. Yet when I saw Bree flee, a very real fear hit me. Before I was able to act on this though I felt Allie’s arms around me and I took flight in her embrace.
I wish I could eloquently put into words how it felt. Not simply the act of flying, but for her to have wanted to carry me like that. Allie insists that she’s not at all noble and projects an air of urgency and self-servingness, but I am now utterly convinced that she is very kind at heart.
I’m rather glad that she hasn’t noticed my chronicling our journey together as I think if she were to read this she’d be furious with me.
She could only carry me for a short time (which is understandable, I must’ve been quite heavy to her) so when she dropped me I was mere feet away from Krist and, as I came to learn this evening, his father.
What a heart-breaking exchange. Such anger and violence. This phantasmal father’s wrath was unquenchable.
And me, in my ignorance, tried to step in to do something. The thought of it now makes me stomach roil. I didn’t realise at the time it was a projection of his father, although now I wonder if that truly makes much of a difference? My urge to step in to mitigate situations will be the death of me, I’m sure.
As I fumbled, summoning nature for her aid in that clumsy way that I do, I saw Skodrun being swallowed by a horrid, toad-like carnivore. With little aptitude to aid Krist I made the decision to wildshape into a horse.
What a deeply strange thing to write…
After being in such close proximity to all the horses in Mulmaster I felt an understanding I could borrow to bend my body into its shape.
And as much as I know this is not the time or place to write so selfishly… the speed with which I moved--! It was like lightning crashing across a stormcloud. Even with sweet Bree on my back I felt like I could’ve run into the horizon to meet the sun on its way down to wake the moon! And such strength!
When we reached the toad my feet--hooves crashed into it. Towering waves smashing into chalk cliffs!
Violence is never a solution, but it is a tonic for cruelty.
Skodrun tumbled from the creature’s mouth and I tried to carry him and Bree to safety, but my exhaustion was starting to catch up with my speed. He dismounted moments later, and lucky that he did, as one of the foul beasts cut me down.
I’m not sure if I shall even be used to dying, even in the temporary shape of a beast. I think there’s a moment where the soil wants to swallow up my soul and, in the past, perhaps I would’ve let it. But at that moment I saw Bree wounded and I took her in my arms instead.
In my exhaustion I managed to heal a partially-digested Skodrun, only to see Allie tumble from the sky like a fledgling bird.
So foolish… My urge to fight cost me the strength to heal her. I will never forget the sight of the woman kind enough to lift me from danger plummeting to the earth in my stead.
I thank all the powers that be that Krist had been there, who even after his horrendous combat with his father, was able to heal and protect her.
We fled, the Dream Seed which Allie had been holding and swaying with positive thoughts back in Krist’s hands.
When we managed to distance ourselves from combat we finally sat down and spoke.
There was much talk of what to do next, planning and organisation. I was of little help, still stunned by what I had seen. If I had only said that the Dream Seed hadn’t mattered, we would have left the festival and be halfway home by now… That’s a thought that will stay with me for a good while.
Much deliberation was had, and finally Bree took on the responsibility of carrying the orb on account of her soft, kind thoughts and natural affinity for heat. As we made our way to camp we were gifted a beautiful memory of Bree and her mother. A tender exchange of education and encouragement - a clear indicator of Bree’s sensitive personality. The forest from whence she came was marvelous: sycamores tall enough to nestle in the clouds; light dappling through the leaves like the first fur coat on a fawn’s back; a sweet bouquet of moss and ripening fruit and a temperate weather like balmy autumn.
We were all so exhausted that when we finally found camp most of us fell asleep immediately. I agreed to take the first watch with Skodrun, rebuffing Krist’s offer of healing… knowing myself unworthy of it.
At which point I felt a great wave of sadness hit me and I had to go to talk with him.
I felt the urge to speak with him in Elvish, not only because it comes easier to my tongue but on the off chance that anyone may have been listening - I wanted to afford him what privacy I could.
We spoke for some time…
I asked him how he was, and there was a look in his eyes that pains me even now. Was it the right thing to do, to ask him? Perhaps I was opening a freshly sealed wound, thoughtlessly prodding and probing it because of my so-called concern for the man.
He told me that the cruel figure had been his father, that the two of them had had a poor relationship (which was clear from what I’d seen) but I suppose the most upsetting point was that the small token of praise had cut Krist the deepest. I couldn’t wholly sympathise with this by the fact that my father has been nothing but kind and good to me, but I wanted him to know that I---we. We are all here for him, in whatever capacity that might be.
Relationships affect all of us in different ways. I think our hearts must be like the earth. Soft and sweet, and the feelings that course through us water. They shape the earth, move it in ways, and maybe it branches out into many small tributaries, rushing rivers or placid lakes.
I feel like all of my feelings up until recently could’ve been contained in a small pond, quietly sitting in the midst of a quiet forest. But now the waters seep and spread, connecting and reaching out.
It’s so warm in front of the fire and it feels so pleasant to have the weight of Krist’s head on my shoulder… I really mustn’t slip into a trance now. I’ll just rest my eyes for a moment, then I’ll get up and help Skodrun with hi--
Breaking Point
This is what it must feel like to be a fish, caught on the end of a fisherman’s hook. The illusion of freedom, swimming in the direction you believe to be your choice, when suddenly that hook caught in your cheek pulls you sharply another way. What is the better course? Fighting or conceding?
After speaking with Bobson we found that the land for his so-called festivities came from one Farmer Buckly. Bree cleverly sent Bitey on ahead to scout the territory and after my companions did some investigation with the locals we made our way to the farm.
En route it was Allie that spied my low mood, for all of her talk of ‘not being noble’ I am convinced that she has a very kind heart hidden under those wings.
There’s a stone in my throat, when I’m asked to convey how I feel it grows. Not a geological stone but the heart of a great fruit, like a peach or nectarine, and its roots close around my Adam’s apple and tighten. It makes me lie. And when I looked into her heterochromic eyes I felt my heavy heart sink further into my body.
This feeling only intensified when Skodrun noticed my sadness. Am I so terrible at keeping these negative feelings to myself that I broadcast them? That’s not what I meant to do at all. Why can’t I veil them, if only I could act. Be like a performer on stage: smile and laugh and brush my turmoil away with a jaunty song or silly joke.
When we arrived at the farm my mind was in a haze. I recall approaching Ember and her entourage but when I moved to speak, nothing came. Talk of recreational substances came up from my right and left - a disconnect grew in me like a ravine.
It was around this time that Allie and Krist made to investigate another area of the farm… Little to my knowledge this investigation resulted in sabotage. Real sabotage this time, not the musical kind.
What entropy.
I felt like a bird flying over a forest as a far-off fire loomed, waiting to consume its habitat.
At this time Bree came to speak with me, showing a concern for my low energy, but her sweetness led her to believe my lie. What a wicked thing I am that I couldn’t be honest to those star-gazer eyes...
The fire was brushed aside by the organisers like it meant nothing at all, to which matter, some members even laughed at it. What a suffocating feeling. Like watching dog trainers laughing at their animals fighting for sport. The atmosphere was oppressive and it disturbed me to see that nobody else exhibited signs of being affected by it.
Is this truly what life is like in civilised society? Is this why Davdon never ventured to the cities?
A small kernel of fear in me was ready to explode.
Brody Green, a deeply suspicious individual, produced the ‘Dream Seed’. With it he exhibited Winter’s memory… I can still smell the snow on my clothes and see his childish gait.
But when Allie stepped forwards to recreate a memory my senses grew keener. What was this classroom environment? She seemed both preoccupied and disengaged from her peers and quickly removed herself from her surroundings . She showed little patience then, yet seems to exhibit it through her interactions with me.
Perhaps it is a kindness I do not deserve.
Watching this felt like breaching her privacy, even though it was a memory she chose to share.
It was around this time that I felt my anger and frustration at breaking point. So without a word to my dear ones I went to speak with Ember about her ‘faith’.
What came over me then was something cold, dark and cruel. This exploitation, this loveless chaos… I can’t stand it. It makes me so angry and I let it spill. No, it tumbled from me, an avalanche of threats and stoic words.
A great part of me regrets it and yet… The power that surged through me.
No, it’s not me. I don’t think that is truly who I am, is it? My father raised me to be better than that.
Through my interrogation I managed to learn of an exchange between Brody’s ‘Dream Seed’ and a benefactor called ‘Vore Yabley’. I relayed this to my friends and we made for Buckley Hill.
I thought I had my thoughts organised, that I could carry on without the slightest of hiccough… But as we approached the hill and Allie asked us in-turn how we felt about the action we were about to take, Skodrun referred to me… Saying that I was the moral compass of the group, that my faith was the strongest… and I shattered.
I’m nothing but a pane of glass, balanced on a knife’s edge.
The blade looks sharp, but a simple gust of wind will send me tumbling.
A thousand pieces to put back together.
Each one making you bleed.
How horrible… To imagine seeing myself in that state. Tears in my eyes regaling my loved ones with my failings. An insult to them and to the creatures I failed.
And yet… they only had kind words for me. Good words, advice and understanding.
‘If it was you or the owlbear, it would be you every time.’
How can I even begin to comprehend a sentiment like that. It’s power is enough to take my glass heart and melt it, to put together its pieces in a single, healing blow.
And an embrace and a kiss.
Not that I’m worthy of any of this… How naive I was to think I could pass through Mulmaster like a leaf on the breeze. Instead I am a magpie, picking up these darling, shiny treasures along the way and covetting them in secret. None of them must ever know how deeply I care… It would only frighten them away.
We ascend this great hill now, Allie’s hand in mine, to steal back the Dream Stone.
She, who is a Knight of the Order of the Eternal Flame.
I wish I gave her the courage she gives me.
Red Sky at Morning
Crimson is a calm Colour
It comes after Violence
the Eye of an angry Storm
I can feel my heart breaking.
And it tears not with the clang of a clacson or the roar of thunder, but with the tiny snaps one can hear when tearing weeds from the earth. What a shallow, wicked thing a heart is that sits so proudly in my chest, beating so selfishly. She demands so much from me that I wish, at times, that I could petrify her, place her on the mantelpiece and regale days when such a crude thing had influence over me.
I have been measured and found wanting.
I let that majestic beast die. And worse than that, I instigated their initial rage.
By trying to bind them, I caused their anger to boil. I deserved what I received and though I have the skill to heal it… perhaps I shouldn’t.
I am disgraced... What I would do to take the shape of a bear and burrow underground to hibernate away from all of this.
Why did I leave home, for this? For death? If not by my own hand then encouraged by it. If I had stayed perhaps the night terrors would have driven me mad, but at least I would not have been a part of all this slaughter.
Yet, there she is again. Knocking at my ribcage, egotistically reminding me that if I had never left then I never would have met my new, dear, beloved ones.
I must be rotten to the core, to see something so violent and then desire something so exclusively self-centred. A better druid would take their staff and leave, would go back to healing and make amends for their wrongdoings.
My Lady, gift me hope. Even if it costs years of my life, please bestow something to me to swallow my anger and fear. If I can bury a seed in the ground and it brings forth beauty, why not the same with my heart. My veins no longer transport blood now so much as tighten like vines around my mind.
And so I will let my sadness drown me silently. The pestilence of my actions is enough horror to spread. Thus I cannot let it be seen or understood by those I care for.
If I am to do something with this long life of mine, My Lady Mielikki, I pray that it is not expected of me soon… for I have just proven that I am not ready.
Whispers of the Moon
Where to begin; how to begin?
As the sun began to relax into the horizon all of us set out to Alphonso Riverthief; a (so-called) druid in the nearby forest, from whom we had intended to buy mushrooms from. He was overcome with the bounties of nature and simple things like syntax and coherence had fled him many moons ago.
A funny spell overtook Krist at the talk of caves and underdark, I’m not sure what the connection (or disconnection) is there but there’s a history and perhaps trauma to that. I’ve read that Dark Elves tend to be subterranean but I’m certain he said he was raised in a city…
Alphonso pointed us in a vague direction and with Bree’s aid we made our way to the mushroom cave.
En route I spoke with Bree for a while and she told me of her gathering days in the forest with her mother. What kinship I have in her with our reclusive upbringings. She is shy and very humble, a charming combination in a personality. I made her ‘pinky-promise’ with me that one day she’d take me to see the forest she lived in during her youth.
Perhaps I was too forward in asking this of her?
Idle chatter of cults and orders occurred and, most thoughtlessly, I brushed it aside. My faith in Mielikki is unshakable at this point so the notion of changing my beliefs is akin to a fish breathing air. But I later came to understand that this jovial attitude had caused genuine unrest in sweet Allie. Allie: who is so upbeat and cheery became distant. When I finally spoke to her about it alone I tried to understand her feelings and, as to be expected, she explained herself eloquently… And yet, there is more to her there than a simple monochrome dislike of casual remarks regarding cults.
I wonder if we are very different, the two of us. There is a power in her confident independence that I greatly admire.
Upon arrival the air was thick with the natural bouquet of damp earth and fungi. And as we all inhaled it I could hear my dear ones’ thoughts. All manner of feelings bubbling to the surface. All apart from Skodrun - I can’t say I’m hugely surprised as he has a very particular strength to him… And, moreso, I think he would quite happily say what’s at the forefront of his mind mushrooms or no.
We went to collect the dreamflake, but at that moment the strangest mushroom-like figures appeared. Whilst Skodrun’s instinct was to protect us, thinking them violent, we managed to discourage them from fighting.
And as they were leaving, Alphonso arrived.
He started to shoo away these timid creatures and an anger grew in me then that I haven’t felt in a long time. I shouted at him, told him to stop that nonsense, but I suppose I’m not that threatening really. It was Bree that talked him down in the end.
I don’t really know why I was so livid… I suppose it was seeing someone around my father’s age acting like that. I thought that he should’ve known better, if Davdon knows better then why not anyone else with his experience. But not everyone is like my father.
We stopped off at that ‘druid’s’ cabin on the way back to the festivals and I made a point to leave him a note. It read: 'Be kind, or else others may not be so kind to you'... Truthfully? I doubt he would’ve even noticed it.
I must’ve looked very cross leaving that little cabin as Krist pulled me aside. The sweet man, he has a tendency to try to calm me down when I’m flustered. I confided in him that the more I witness, the more I speak up and that perhaps this is a dangerous or poor quality in me. He didn’t seem to think so, but I wonder. Is it really ever my place to judge, me - someone so detached from society. How can I remark on what I see, when it’s only the first time I’ve seen it.
Feeling rather self-conscious I managed to deflect the topic from myself (a subject I’m not overly fond of talking about) and somehow I ended up scolding him for talking poorly about himself. I hear him saying he had little to live for and that was completely unacceptable. If something happened to him…
Well, we made it back to the festival in one piece and despite everything a little idea came to me. Bobson, so keen to sell his T-shirts and dresses, inspired me to buy a little purple shirt for bitey. Bree, the sweet, little fey that she is, had no idea I was lying to him! I couldn’t believe that he fell for it, and what a good sport Krist was for entertaining it. She was so utterly overjoyed with the shirt she gave me the biggest (and warmest) hug I’ve ever received. Her circulation is very impressive!
It was at this point that Allie and I talked (and hopefully Skodrun wasn’t using those hidden Elfin ears to hear us). I enjoyed hearing her thoughts and her opinions on various matters. I bought us some soup and bread (combined, no less, how ingenious!) and we eventually met with our companions together.
As we were preparing to drink, dance, cast and eat into the early hours of the morning the most peculiar thing happened.
A vision.
Not uncommon for me, I’m often visited by moving pictures during my trances, but this was different; sublime. We were together, as if babes. I wish I could’ve recorded that sight for the rest of my days… How sweet we all looked! Fresh faced and untouched by the things yet to come. Baby curls, missing teeth, short chubby fingers and oversized robes. Wonky haircuts, freckles, rosy cheeks and echoes of high-pitched giggles.
But that came, and went. How sad to have not had them as my friends in my youth all those years ago.
Something eerie resonated. The moon, a pearl translucent in the sky, spoke. Her voice a cool breeze on a hot, balmy night. I can’t recall the exact words but what stayed with me was this:
‘One from two worlds must find the life seed.’
Then before I could process this, a woman appeared before us. Her hair fire, she mentioned something again of the ‘one from two worlds--’ but I awoke before she finished.
I scrawl this hurriedly now as I’ve come to understand that we all shared the same vision.
Define: Sabotage
As fate would have it, the fête was in fact a music festival. I was unaware of such festivities, it was Krist with his worldly understanding that identified the gathering as such. Why, with a fleeting glance at the scattered leaflets he rattled off names of colleagues I wouldn’t know to associate with the arts of music.
I’ve kept one of the discarded scraps of paper, I mean to show it to Davdon on my return - I wonder if he ever came across such an event in his past.
And as we walked through the green we learnt of tryst between Krist and his fellow musicians. Neither Allie, Bree nor myself were terribly familiar with such an engagement and my first thoughts were of marriage, but on reflection I wonder if it was simply a shared love.
How open and bold of him to share that with us, I hope his heart has healed from their separation.
On our approach we spotted a group goading a woman and me, of all people, managed to talk one of them down! I’ve never been able to talk down a slug from a foxglove, so I nearly fell over at his reception!
The woman, we came to realise, was called Ember. She spoke of a ‘marvelous’ spiritual group. I should not have judged, I honestly shouldn’t have, but something about her mannerisms caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. In truth, she put me on edge for a good while, not that I dare say that to spoil my beloveds’ moods.
Regardless, she was shooed away by Bobson: the proprietor of the festival.
Between his salesmanship and encouragement we ended up with a matching set of outfits.
How splendid! A dress in moss green with words emblazoned onto it, what a novel concept! Naturally I changed into it the moment everyones’ eyes were averted.
As we were browsing the festival, and tucking into some rather fine cheese bread, Krist spotted his band (Musgiorin) and (I suppose) his lovers.
We all heard his story and I could sense his anger. Yet I feel I was the only one who didn’t support him in his designs for sabotage. Am I incorrect in its definition? Is it not the deliberate act of destruction and damage?
What wide divide stands here
A crevasse of aching
I’m a relic on an island
f l o a t i n g
Out into the cold depths
But they’re warm when you’re in them
There is much I have yet to understand, perhaps civilised life is beyond me.
The ‘sabotage’ turned out to be less destructive than I had anticipated and instead, dispelling the mirages of his lovers, Krist took to the stage and performed his own music. I think this was a fitting way for him to represent his emotions.
After the performance we retired to a secret tent whereupon Kirst, opened by recent events, shared his past. The death and 100 year estrangement of his father, the moneylending and exile from his home. What a sad past… I can’t imagine not speaking with my father for 100 years, the very thought brings tears to my eyes (I’m certain the smoke here will dispel any suspicions).
My dear friends have been through things I cannot comprehend, but by learning this I’ve grown a little.
My quickness to judge does me no good, like little flowers trying to bloom I must do better to protect them all.
Allie, a little vibrant cornflower swaying in the breeze. Bree a soft periwinkle hidden in a thicket. Skodrun, a lively poppy; bold and bright. And dear Krist, the hardy lavender grown in harsh climates but soothing those at its expense.
If I could only give you all a garden in which to grow.
Our Flight From Mulmaster
The perfume of wood smoke lingers on my armour and when I close my eyes I recall the last twenty-four hours in a hasty blur.
I remember rummaging through the cult’s belonging in a desperate search to clear our names, to no avail. And realising that I’d murdered a man in cold blood... But those memories (or mistakes) pale in comparison to meeting sweet Ozmo - a noble and apprehensive mastiff treated with a wounding lack of kindness. Skodrun and I coaxed him from his cage (a barbaric practice that sickens me) to feed and de-collar him. He trots alongside me now as I write this entry, wary but no longer frightened.
Before we could decide our next move, Sergeant Callugen met us at the door to Little Wing’s hideout with enough guardsmen to send us to an early grave.
We surrendered, handing over Little Wing’s corpse in the process.
The night alone in that small-windowed cell felt like an eternity. I daren’t tell my sweet friends, in fear of bringing undue concern, but the wrought iron fixings and furniture put me so ill-at-ease. My meditations were plagued by disfigured, rotten creatures shambling in the dark… Drums in the deep.
Regardless, these fitful visions probably amount to little more than my own overthinking.
We were proven free to go and to my quiet delight we left together.
To journey together, sharing stories and thoughts with one another, feels like a wish granted.
And the things I learnt!
Krist’s penchant for music takes root in having been in a band. Imagine! I would’ve liked to have watched, perhaps out of sight, as he and his companions played together. I wonder what the nature of their music is, does he write to his musician friends now? I wonder if I can ask Allie to persuade him to play something for us.
Skodrun, sweet and sensitive as I ever suspected, revealed he was adopted by Dwarves. How uncanny that he and I both knew nothing of our birth parents. Could it be possible that they would’ve been friends, or lived together in the same place? I really must find out how old he is, but how to ask in a… delicate manner. He was so taken aback by Allie’s teasing that I would be mortified if I offended him by asking.
Allie, full of wit and candor, revealed that she is Aasimar-born. I know little of the Aasimar race, but from what I can tell observing Allie that they are kind, intelligent and perhaps just a little mischievous. She added that she can summon forth wings due to her lineage and as much as I wanted to know more, she seemed shy as I pried. Perhaps my mannerisms are uncouth to her?
Gentle Bree, full of wonder and eyes wide and expectant as the night’s sky, shared that she too was raised away from civilisation, as I have been. Truthfully, I thought that a life separated from settlements was standard, but when Allie commented that that ‘explained why we were the way we are’ I couldn’t help but laugh. The two of us appear odd to them, perhaps? I don’t see it myself - Bree’s personality is cool, fresh air on a summer’s day.
And me, I spoke of my darling father and his kindnesses to me. I will come and see you again Davdon, I can’t wait to share my adventures with you, to tell you of my dear friends. I miss your rosy-cheeked smile, freshly baked breads and sweet mead.
Yet as we walk and talk something catches our eye, a party or fête?
The Battle of Little Wing
My heart was heavy from the morning’s rush and guilt weighed on me for my unkind words to Skodrun… I shared these feelings with Krist and, much to my delight and surprise, he openly agreed that I had been unjust in my assertions.
At first, his candor struck me like ice rain, but much like the rain it refreshed and invigorated me.
That sort of honesty… is very admirable.
We exchanged thoughts and I worry I hurt him with my talk of the group fleeing the city. He said that such an action was doable by all of us, save him. Are the Night Elves so feared? I’ve heard tales of horror; cruel, sadistic matrons, blood sacrifices and deep bats as big as wolves. But Krist is the only Night Elf I’ve met, and he is gentle, warm and sensitive…
Well, at least he is when he’s not wielding that hefty warhammer.
Regardless of my feelings, we decided that we were to approach Little Wing head-on. If we can’t leave, then we move to fight, I suppose. And I’ll protect Krist and my other new friends as we do so.
And speaking of friends, I went to apologise to Skodrun for my brash words and he just smiled and waved off my harsh behavior like a pleasant breeze. My first thoughts on the Dwarf-come-Elf were of a softness and I was not wrong. After further questioning he revealed his violence was a move to pre-empt our being hurt.
I’ve been hiding under the guise of the moral high ground in my cowardice, while Skodrun has had the courage to do the unthinkable to protect us.
I’m learning so much from these good people, I only wish I could give what I take.
But before we could all truly bond, militia approached in great numbers. Skodrun, Allie and Krist moved to trick the inhabitants that Skodrun was an assassin (and from what I heard, his language was certainly blue enough for a sailor, if not an assassin). Evan, Bree and I stood waiting as Bree connected with her little weasel friend to relay information to us.
She must have a great bond with nature to do this, I would love to talk to her about this but it was not the time.
After a nervous moment she recommended we join the group and before I knew what was happening we were all engaged in combat.
It’s a blur to me now, like looking back on a vision days after meditating, but the last thing I recall was knocking one of Little Wing’s men unconscious and then joining the group in the central-most room as a crossbow bolt pierced him between the eyes.
What are we to do now?
Bloodstains on Cobblestones
I did not leave the forest in search of death.
The darkness that creeps into my meditations felt like a warning, yet leaving the sanctuary of my Lady Mielikki has done nothing but bring about pain.
When I close my eyes I see bodies stacking. An uneven tower of corpses, teetering like rounded stones stacked on one another. A nudge the wrong way will make them cascade as an avalanche, a wave of lifeless flesh.
There is a kernel of stress and fear in me, a seed that takes root, and as its tiny, spindly tendrils enclose my rationality. I struggle to breathe.
The heat of the burning mansion brought out violence in my dear companions and warnings escalated into combat. Am I too slow to follow their designs? Is fighting to be the solution? I watch in slow motion as guardsmen and animalkin fall like autumn leaves.
I felt so much anger. It roiled in me like a tempest. And I unjustly directed this rage at Scodrun. Even now I can see sky-blue eyes staring back at me, confused and bewildered. Looking back, it’s like scolding a cat for catching a mouse.
I must make amends with him, understand him.
At what point did my life devolve into a question of anger or tears?
When the fighting subsided, I accompanied Evan to speak with Aleksi Drejkov. He spoke of an Abandoned Windmill and the usurper who we now know to be Little Wing. The same man responsible for the murder of Zel - the originator of this string of events.
I saw a side of Evan I hadn’t before. His serene and pleasant countenance masking well-crafted threats - is there a darkness in him as there is in me. Is this the cunning of mankind my father spoke of?
One moment I feel a warm embrace of soft perfumes, vanilla and honeysuckle, comfort and an immature delight in me that makes me yield. Next it’s talk of suffering and threats on life.
And when I thought the day’s surprises were at an end Allie revealed her wings. A so-claimed ‘spell’ that gifted her with flight. But not just flight; a plumage to rival that of the most magnificent albino peacock. Wings crafted from air and light and glass.
There is more to her than meets the eye, but when questioned she shied away.
She entangled herself and Bree in a lie. Peppered with a past perhaps she would’ve liked to have seen. When I offered her a potion that gifted flight, she rebuffed it.
But I suppose in doing so I was given an excuse to sit with Krist. I write this as I sit beside him, hopeful he can’t read Elvish, as I see a sadness in that solitary, crystalline eye. He acts as the voice of reason for the group, and I would offer to share with that burden…
If only I knew how to.
Bird’s Eye View
With turbans, false moustaches, trimmed beards, blackened and reddened hair we muddled back to The Cloak and Shadows Inn.
An unsettling aura about the place (and the likelihood of having to pretend to be someone I am not) meant Allie and I kept watch outside for suspicious characters. But, unfortunately, my clumsiness in aiding Allie to a nice look-out point meant we spied the infamous Aleski Drejkov a little too late.
While Allie effortlessly tongue-tied his carriage’s driver, I attempted to unearth any useful information… But I found myself fumbling once again, especially so when caught in the act. Panic overtook me and my mouth moved before my mind had a chance, relaying that silly bookish lie about an earring again. That certainly didn’t go down well.
My mistakes aside, my companions (who are clearly more adept than I am) returned from the Inn with the remainder of their belongings and news.
As it turns out, Aleski was speaking to Sergeant Callugen for a means to leave the city in a raised and panicked tone. Which insinuates that he realises he (and perhaps the nefarious activities he’s associated with) are under threat.
This was all relayed to me by the delightful Bree who says she dropped eaves on the conversation through her darling weasel companion.
I pulled her aside, although I’m hardly the person to do this, and asked her how she was. My concern was that she was trapped now, like a hare in a harness, reeled in by unsuspecting poachers. But at that moment she relayed to me that company in danger was preferable to safety in solitude.
She plucked at my heartstring like Evan on his violin.
I went on to tell her a little about the group, in secret of course, I’d rather they didn’t hear what I thought of them.
When suddenly, disaster struck: fire!
Tarot and Treachery
I continue to document my time in Mulmaster to relay to Davdon upon my return and there is one thing I am certain of: I have become much more adept at writing on the move!
We landed in Troglav Square rather unceremoniously and before we could even thank him, Kaleed disappeared!
As we made to leave, Scodrun suddenly darted away from the group -- I’m still not sure why -- and with citywatch and guard dogs abound we tried to slip from sight. In doing so we came across a fascinating new friend. Her skin is the colour of periwinkle and she has the most magnificent ram-like horns. Her name is Bree, and she has a gentle and receptive way about her. I would’ve liked to have spoken with her more, but with angry eyes on the search for us, we had to move quickly.
Whilst we fled, we came across a place of shelter, a curious fortune teller’s shop. The woman, Radinka, had a greed about her that made me uncomfortable. The glint in her eye at the mention of gold affected me, made me more bold than I ought to have been. When she was unkind to Bree I withheld what little money I have… Perhaps my doing this spurned her later actions.
Regardless of my mistrust she read our fortune and showed us five symbols:
Skull
Rogue
Knight
Donjon (Dungeon)
Sun
She related them to potential links in our recent activities but the vagaries with which she spoke made me unsure of their validity. But I must put my judgments aside, if there is truth to what she said then one of the cards concerns me: the dungeon.
I cannot let my friends’ fate end in the sunless depths of Mulmaster dungeons, I must do everything I can to ensure that when they die that it is not a sad or frightened place.
My meditations went by, coloured with a fear that silently builds in me, one that I cannot let take hold… But upon discovering that Radinka had fled with our gold and reported us to the authorities an unbecoming terror took root in me. Whilst the level-headed and calm began to escape through the back passage I thought to burn her home.
I don’t--can’t understand why I went to do this, I’ve never had feelings like this before, and in my moment of panic I turned to Evan for his council. Both he and Allie talked me down… and I still feel a horrible guilt weighing my down for putting them in that situation. I hope that they forget that conversation, they were tired (just woken from sleep) so my wish is that they chalk up the conversation to a nightmare…
We let the more fatigued find rest in a quiet, little warehouse for a short time as Krist and I kept watch.
Recovered, and passer-by deterred by Krist’s remarkable acting prowess, we left to continue our search for clues… But as we left, Bree and I spotted evidence of a fall (or lift?) past a snapped clothesline. Moments later dear Evan spied a rat scuttling down the drain with an important-looking ring.
There was much deliberation on what to do, but in the end I volunteered myself to go down into the drain as a rat.
I rather adore rats, clever, social little critters. Very soft with a funny tail like a flexing tree branch.
But when I came across the thieving rat it was with its pack. Normally this is no bother, they’re not nasty creatures by nature, but when I tried to retrieve the ring they became terribly vicious. Aberrantly so!
Is this what Davdon meant when he spoke of city life?
I’m glad I found such kind folk on my first evening here, but I worry as we continue to move, on the run from the law; hair painted fox-red and my friends disguising themselves, what match are we when we are so grossly outnumbered?
What Investigations Yield
I write this, perched on the nose of a manmade contraption of flight! Dubbed the Whirly Twirly by its conceptualiser: one Kaled bin Zafir (through the undoubted influence of Krist).
So much has happened, I will start at where the evening began to take shape.
As dear Evan faded from the group, we who remained made to investigate Drakewell’s Arcana in Firewell Alley. I watched on as the trio made valiant efforts to enter the magic shop, resulting in Allie effortlessly transporting herself inside to locate the key.
She found the key in no time at all and let us in at the exact moment of Evan’s return with our armaments (I have yet to discern whether he brought his own but all signs point to him sacrificing his own defences for our own)... and I managed to cast pass without a trace, a spell I’ve been mulling over for some time, without a single hiccough!
The investigation presented us with three avenues (as well as a rather fetching wand that the group kindly bestowed on me with the ability to summon a mundane toad -- not that I consider a toad to be mundane at all!).
Three forks in the road:
A nobleman with cruel and selfish intentions: Aleksi Drejkov
A cursed community driven to criminal activity: the Kenku
And a creative with a flare for invention: Kaled bin Zafir
Knowing Kaled’s address we determined to pursue him as our first lead. Upon arrival he was nervous but polite and with the potent poultice of both Krist and Evan’s charm we managed to gain entry.
Amongst the impressive designs and prototypes I felt a level of concern for Kaled’s living conditions.
He conceded that he was being threatened by the same Aleksi Drejkov and we offered our aid. And at that moment the city guard, with Sergeant Callugen as the head of this viper, appeared. Kaled panicked, with good reason, and tried to collect his materials as the group made ready to leave.
As we were preparing to board our attackers burst in.
I’m not sure what took over Scodrun at this time but he shot at the soldiers. No, he shot directly at Sergeant Callugen. Second time hitting him.
I am convinced that he had a reason for this, someone who can show affection for animals has it for humans too, there is a root to this that will reveal itself with enough care and nurturing.
Defending oneself when in peril is forgivable, but what is less so is my own cowardice.
When Krist asked me to protect the group, I immediately agreed, and yet when the moment came to protect him… I hid. My actions caused him pain.
I said to myself that I would not let fear consume me after the theatre but there it is, like a wave rolling over me. Erasing all the plans I wrote in the sand.
I will do better, I must do better.
Murder at the Theatre
These notes are made in haste.
A means of organising the chaos in my head - the series of events I’ve witnessed hold more weight than entire years of my life.
Two days have passed since our encounter with the party’s attacker and whilst I quietly roominated on their actions my newfound companions ate, drank and laughed.
To be surrounded by such vitality is a gulp of fresh air, surfacing from a murky pond.
But I digress.
This very evening we were innocently (or so I thought) invited to a play at the delightfully-named Theatre of the Stars. But no stars were present.
We met with another official man named Zel Tregarthen: polite, well-spoken and carrying a flavour of magic present in his aura as it was in the tea he served us.
He questioned us on our abilities and how I wish he had skipped over me, what am I next to my companions. Not that I would share this with them, but I have no grand life experiences. I’m not a bard with eloquence and beauty, neither am I an expert in ruins and a dab hand with a warhammer. I can’t shoot a crossbow from leagues away and neither can I process literature with utmost comprehension and velocity.
I hold no gravity.
How awkwardly I fell over my words, like a child. A babe at the bottom of a well peering up at the world through the lens of its pinprick opening.
It’s curious how a small action would calm me.
But now is not the time to dwell on inspirational smiles and winks -- or would that be considered a blink?
Regardless, after we had all shared our pasts the stars went out and a murderer struck. Zell tumbled to his doom and Evan, in a moment of athletic brilliance, recovered a note which he later divulged to contain all of our names. He burnt it, in self-preservation I can only assume.
But why our names, and at that, our full names.
The impact of Zell’s death brought on the wrath of the guardsmen and Sergeant Callugen. We all made the choice to run in our own ways.
I took the form of a wolf spider to hasten my flight, but now, as I stand in this quiet alley, I see the cowardice and selfishness in this act.
That many pounding feet ascending the staircase… I was petrified.
How did Allie-Jack have the courage to stand in front of them like that?
Did anyone notice? I sincerely hope not, and neither shall I tell them. My fear brings them nothing but concern, no. I will make myself stronger. I shall be an oak like Father Silvanus.
We have been unjustly accused and I shall protect these innocents until all names have been cleared.
Arrival at Mulmaster
Winding cobbled streets and buildings as tall as ancient willows, is this a human pinnacle or just the precipice of their architectural prowess. There are so many sounds and scents here.
Baking bread and open markets littered with stray cats tiptoeing between the tree trunk legs of the fishmongers eager for scraps.
Did Davdon ever come here I wonder, to buy some of the components we couldn’t source ourselves. I never asked him… So many questions left unanswered, buds never to bloom.
Regardless of reminiscing, this evening I found myself in a tavern. Populated with many personalities of different walks of life. A single, cloaked figure revealed themselves late into the evening with aggressive and confused intentions and to arms the patrons came.
Crossbow bolts like lightning.
Magic weaving ice like a deadly tapestry.
Dissonant poems that strike the mind asunder.
And a healing touch of kindness.
Where am I in this unfurling of events, a bystander dumbfounded by the competence of others. An elderly child witnessing a harmony I intrude upon.
They are a curious company that interest me, teasing me away from my own objective. I only know a few names to countenances.
Allie Jack, the magician with a pure heart ripe with curiosity worn openly on her sleeve. Wide pale eyes and hair that reflect a secret sensitivity and consideration for others.
Scodrun, a dichotomy of Dwarven and Elven cultures. Charismatic to a fault and a charmer to be sure. But under that boisterous nature I see a softness for the vulnerable - a desire to protect others.
Krist, a peacemaker, diplomat and adaptable Drow. As quick to defend as he is to protect, not matching the stereotypes dictated to me in literature but then, isn’t that more oft’ the case.
And a gentlemanly human who kept his distance from the other patrons. A solitary man with a sad look in his eye. Perhaps a quiet soul following his own journey, or a part of the group now choosing to separate from his peers due to some disagreement.
The conflict yielded a link to a deity I know little of: Yan-C-Bin via means of a curious eagle-come-snake tattoo in a rather discrete area of the assailants body. This resulted in a sergeant of some authority to enter, Callugen is his name and he holds an intense air of duty and self-assurance. He took the names of two companions, but I - being the way that I am - remained silent.
What is my name to him anyway, it holds the same lack of power for him as it does for me.
How much is there in this world to which I know nothing of, are they as I am? Lost in a sea of unknowing, I’m wading in the ocean with no land in sight.
I go to my meditations silently as Allie-Jack slumbers. The perfect picture of divinity.
I pray the visions leave me in peace this evening.
B l acCk tEarsssss
