Kairon's Journal: Entry #1
28th of Mill, 5042
I awoke in a tavern this morning, unsure of my whereabouts. My memory fails me more and more frequently, ever since the incident back at the cavern. I have wandered endlessly in search of that place once more, but I cannot recall its location any more than I can recall Sabion’s death. He was a good friend - that much I remember. But apparently I was not. The townsmen blamed me, and their glares seemed sure, so I must indeed be to blame. I left, in exile, and walked the land until happening upon a monastery. There I stayed, a full year, but I now fail to remember what I learned during training. I only know that after the year, my guilt had not subsided, so I ventured forth once more, living off the land until I found a cave in which I could reside. I know not how long I lived within the earth, but even still I have this constant, gnawing that something important, something . . . unbelievable rests at the pit of that cavern - something which must have inspired me with fear, or awe, or some sense so impressionable that I am forever urged to return.
If only I could return. But a tunnel collapsed one day within the cave, burying me in rocks and knocking me unconscious. When at last I awoke, I struggled against the rocks until I had cleared a path and could freely escape the cavern. The only consequence I realized at the time was the defect in my horns, which were now each cracked about halfway down. It wasn’t until after many nights of travel and sleep that I felt my memories begin to slip. Despite my efforts, I could not recall important details about my own life, and I lost most of the skills which I acquired during my martial arts training. Hopelessness, resentment. These two sensations bore down upon me in unison, but still they could not rival the sense of longing I felt to return to the cave, to reacquaint myself with whatever power rested down there.
But finally, this morning, I found my sense of meaning again. I noticed two men leaving the tavern shortly after I woke - a dwarf and a water gensei. These two fellows seemed odd, that much was certain, and they stepped with a vigor which led me to believe they were off on some important errand. I followed behind until they noticed me at the edge of town, and they quickly welcomed me into their entourage. They informed me that they intended to investigate a haunted well within the forest. Haunted. Why does that word inspire me? I found something rekindled within me at the mention of this quest, a long-held fascination with the arcane forces of reality, those which fill the aether all around us and pervade the planes even beyond death. Perhaps the affairs of this group will allow me to once more understand myself and to learn the truths of my past.
On our way to the well, we came across a farm, and in the distance we saw a farmhouse with a bonfire blazing. Through the night, the dwarf - I believe his name is Brimstone Forge - and I could spot two figures in the distance, tossing furniture into the bonfire. I felt urged to involve myself in the situation, and Brimstone decided we should use disguise to our advantage. A clever man, that dwarf is. We approached, the three of us, each performing our own tricks. Brimstone played a tune, the gensai - Samara? - drew water from his canteen and carried it through the air, and I juggled rocks. The two figures approached us, and we saw that they were gnolls - menacing, feral creatures. They took a keen interest in my juggling, and Samara took the chance to go inspect the house. When he returned, I finished my routine and took a bow, but the gnolls were not amused by my finale. The fight was on.
I drew my shortsword and Samara drew a sword of his own, and we engaged the gnolls fearlessly. Meanwhile, Brimstone played the most inspiring song, giving us the spirit to properly combat our foes. The combat seemed familiar to me, and I had a memory restored to me - the memory of unarmed combat. Although this skill was simple, it proved effective. Samara and I were able to bring our enemies to task, but not without Brimstone incurring heavy wounds. By the end of the fight, a gnoll had taken advantage of our weakness and knocked Brimstone out cold, but thankfully Samara and I were able to tend to his wounds. With that, we proceeded to the farmhouse where we found two bodies. We burned them, so as to release their poor souls, and took what we could from the house, since the farmers would have no longer have a use for it. We found a letter which suggested that the gnoll business was not finished, but that problem will have to wait. After a rest, we all proceeded on our way to the well.
Along the forest path, we encountered two more foes - a pair of walking skeletons. Once more, we fought our way through, but as I meditated over the bodies, I became aware that their souls were still intact and that they were being controlled by man-made magic. Such magic fascinates me, but I do fear that it will act as a further obstacle in our adventures. Our trio continued onward until we finally spotted the well. I was ripe with anticipation, as I found myself curious towards what tortured soul made a home of the well. At the edge of the clearing, Samara found a cart with sigils engraved on the side. Upon inspection, I recognized that the runes were etched in the infernal script, my native language, but the meaning of the sigils could not be discerned as a result of magic tinkering. We moved on from the cart and proceeded towards the well.
Two swords emerged without warning through the boards atop the well, and we moved to defend ourselves. Following the swords, some specter rose up from the well and sought to end our journey, but we would not have it. We worked together to dispatch one of the swords, but as we moved on the second one, Samara found himself incapacitated. I dueled with the remaining sword while Samara regained his strength, and upon defeat, the sword fell to the ground and glowed brightly. I picked the sword up and tossed it to Samara, who was now ready to enter the fray again. Samara took the sword and slayed the specter, leaving us to celebrate our victory. Samara struck the boards on the well till they broke clean off, and Brimstone used his magic to pull an object up from the bottom. We saw that it was simply a ring, so I meditated over it, finding myself excited about the prospect of mystical enchantment. I found that the ring bore no alignment, so it would likely be safe to wear. Despite the protests of my peers, I could not resist the temptation to wear the artifact, so I slipped it on my finger and examined it with satisfaction. And now here I sit, yards away from the well, scrawling notes of our adventure. If my instincts are true, I believe that our united efforts will yield a future promising enough to illuminate the mysteries of my past, so I look forward to further quests alongside my newfound allies.
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