3. Stories of Kanen Hightower

Stories of Kanen Hightower

  • L

    [Deleted by user.]


  • A sad, but deserving, bump


  • LOVE'S STRANGER

    She’s different. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, but it is true. So many things that I knew about her, from sharing a life together is now changed. It’s not just the memories, though that is part of it. She seems to have different likes and dislikes now. In many ways she’s the same Seven that I’ve loved all my life, yet in other ways…changed.

    It seems mostly little things. The other night she made a mouthwatering meal for us both, which Seven often did, but then we would usually drink water. I’ve never drank much, except for a couple of painful exceptions, but I rarely saw Seven drink anything other than water or tea. This night she requested wine. It was a wonderful meal, and I tried to not give any overt signs that I was surprised by her choice. It was a wonderful night together as well. It is she, I am quite sure of it, though I must admit I did gaze at her with my Gift when she wasn’t watching. She is not some evil image come to haunt me, this much I know.

    Her voice, her musical laughter, the songs she sings as we walk along together, are all so familiar. The other day, as we were walking through the Nars I asked her a simple question, keeping my expression neutral, knowing what answer she would give. I simply asked her if she would wear a helmet if I bought her one. Her reply brought how she is changed into sharp focus. She said she would wear one, if it looked nice enough. That answer shocked me. In all my years of traveling with Seven, no matter how many times I would attempt to bring the subject up, she always refused to wear a helmet. Yet now she said she would. Such a small thing, yet something that stands out when you spend many years with someone.

    I’ve made a promise to her to not keep bringing up her lapse of memory or how she may have used to do things, as it seems to bother or perhaps annoy her. One thing that I found most strange was that I had to explain Jubei to her. That he had once vied for her affections as well, and how he became a lifelong enemy and threat to us both and our children. She didn’t remember him at all, which I must admit I took some small pleasure in, then described him in detail, warning her to be wary of him.

    She is Seven. I know this. Yet she is different. However I find the differences minor and unimportant. Our love continues, I can see it in her eyes, as she can in mine. The letter from Waterdeep should be arriving soon. Hopefully her parents can shed a bit of light on what exactly happened to my wife.


  • FORGOTTEN

    I soon realized that my wife Seven remembered almost nothing of all the years between us, of all the sorrow, hardship, nor even the good and happy times that we had shared. However, she did seem to know me, and realize in glimpses and by the feelings in her heart who I was, and what we meant to one another. She also remembered glimpses of our children and of course of Torm, her Lord…but very little else.

    As she sat next to me in our house, we both sat gazing at the flickering fire, glancing at each other from time to time in the darkened room. Simply thankful that we were together, no matter the circumstances. I thought darkly for a moment what pain I would inflict on whoever had hurt her, whoever had caused this erasure of her memory, so nearly complete. I admitted the possibility that it was some accident, and not caused malevolently, but many years of experience shouted otherwise.

    I had already quickly penned a letter and sent it back to Waterdeep, to find out under what circumstances she had left there and when, from her parents there. I had thought Seven safe, helping care for her aging mother, Evelynn. Hopefully they could shed some light on this dark mystery and help me determine what actions should be taken next, and perhaps hint at what enemy I might face this time.

    I put such thoughts aside as it was very late, and I did not wish to disturb my injured wife with my dark musings. Instead I gathered her into my arms and took her to our bed for the evening. Later she seemed to sleep soundly, as I watched her, keeping her close in my arms.

    The next day, Seven and I set out from our house, and as we entered the Nars, we happened on the young man Nico. My son Durai had told me that Nico had quite a talent for the merchant arts and often had something useful for sale, and would be willing to purchase unusual things to sell to others. Which was something I required. Seven had arrived without armor, weapon, shield and most of her possessions simply gone. While I had been able to supply her with moderately adequate armor already, she deserved and needed better.

    I greeted the young wiry man, observing and evaluating him, as I noticed he was doing the same to me. After explaining that the lovely blonde woman at my side was, surprisingly, Durai’s mother, Nico seemed to want to help us in any way he could. I removed from my pack an ancient, bone scroll case containing a spell that was most rare and powerful, something I had recovered from the fallen lich when we had at last returned him to his place, never to be disturbed again.

    The young merchant’s eyes widened when he saw the rarity and value of the scroll, and in typical merchant fashion, asked me what I would accept for it, instead of suggesting a possible purchase price. I smiled inwardly at his tactic, and explained my circumstances. I was merely seeking enough to purchase proper armor, a weapon, and shield for my wife, Durai’s mother, I reminded almost absently. Nico said that he could not currently make such a deal but would begin to set it in motion and contact me in perhaps a tenday, to which I agreed.

    One dark spot during the discussion was when I requested a sword, Seven spoke up saying that the mace I had secured for her worked fine, and without thinking I returned that she always had used a sword before, before stopping my tongue…but it was already too late. Seven’s eyes turned downcast and she mumbled that she would train and learn again how to use a sword as she did before.

    Once Nico had left, I turned to her, my golden haired beauty, and offered an apology, realizing now that she did not wish to be constantly reminded of what she had lost, especially in front of strangers, and to her, the world only contained strangers, except perhaps for me and our children. She quietly nodded and said she would like if I would quit bringing up her apparent memory loss and perhaps injury, to which I said I replied that I would try to not do so.

    Later that day, we entered our home town of Jiyyd, arm in arm, and saw a very depressed and saddened Sam. Seven impressed me as we spoke to attempt to cheer him. While she may have forgotten names, places, and many other things, she had not forgotten her faith or her Lord. Together she and I spoke for some time to Sam, attempting to help him see the folly of attempting to understand the will of the gods. One can only accept and do as ordered, realizing that you may never understand why. But that why is not important.

    Perhaps with only limited success with Sam as the day drew closed, Seven and I returned to our home once more. It would be some days before I could expect an answer from the letter sent to Waterdeep, even though I had sent it through more than normal means. Until then, I would simply care for my wife, help her recover the best I could, and be prepared for any threat from whatever had hurt her this way. I would not fail her.


  • UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL

    I had the note in my hand, from Friar Fred of Norwick, as I approached the town's so familiar walls. In it, he simply said that he needed to see me in a matter of some urgency. How the good Friar had known I had returned to the region just the night before, I did not know. I suppose he has his sources of information.

    I was still in a state of shock, stunned to hear of the death of poor Robyn. Anakore looked almost grey in complexion as he spoke of her death, and I realized that he and she had been romantically involved during my long absence. I had mixed feelings about that. Anakore, was someone I was never sure how much could be really trusted, and he and the fire mage Skyla had been wed, I thought, yet apparently that was already over, though there was a child born of that brief union.

    Robyn…my thoughts now turned to years ago, when we first met, she but a girl not yet a woman. As I entered the gates of Norwick, I remembered back also to when I had carried her dead form over my shoulder and took her to the Friar's to bring her back to life once more...yet that would not happen again, it seemed.

    She had apparently died in a battle with Narfell's most ancient enemy, the Defiler. It pained me that I was not permitted to part of this battle, perhaps I could have prevented her death if I had, yet my Lord had sent me far away at this time, to deal with problems of His choosing, not mine. Often was the case, these days. Either by dream or by message I would receive my orders. Where I must go and what I must do, fulfilling the work of Helm my Lord as he commanded.

    Musing as I walked, in my dark mood of hearing of Robyn's death, I thought a moment of how she once hoped she and I would be together, and how it did almost happen, when things were so very strained between Seven and I. Yet in the end, my love for my wife proved stronger, and things were ended between Robyn and I, before they ever began.

    Just as my thoughts drifted now towards my wife, who was of course in far Waterdeep with her parents, I walked past the well in Norwick and heard a melodious voice that lived forever in my heart, and I at first thought it was a trick of my memory that I thought I heard it now, perhaps in some guilt for my thoughts of Robyn...yet as I turned to look at the bench at the well...there she was.

    Golden hair, eyes so blue, a smile that made my heart flutter when she directed it at me even to this day, it was the love of my life, my dear, lovely wife, Seven. Mouth gaping open, I walked over to her, a thousand questions conflicting in my head, how was she here, when had she arrived, why hadn't she come straight to our home...and why was she dressed as she was? She was dressed more as a peasant woman than the mighty and powerful priestess of Torm she had become through the years.

    Also...there was something about her face. She seemed a bit younger, youthful somehow, as if the many sorrows and pain she had faced had been erased, leaving her free of their dark burden...words I would soon realize were more true that I knew.


  • TALES OF THE SON

    Durai's Log 16

    _It started as a pleasant day. Shay and I had been spending a great deal of time in Jiyyd, not traveling much at all, I suppose adjusting to being married and making the house into our home. Shay had made a few changes here and there, threatened to remove a wall or two, but it looked mostly like the same house still.

    The house of my father. It had been more than two years now since I returned to Narfell and Jiyyd to search for him, yet he remained missing. At least he was likely not dead, whatever fate had befallen him. Shay was out in the garden, planting some sort of flowers that she liked, I was in the house, sipping a cup of tea at the table. I was thinking perhaps we should go out that day, out of Jiyyd where I might better learn the progress of the search, and perhaps even find a way to aid in it, when it began.

    I dropped the cup, watching it hit the floor and shatter as I doubled over in pain so intense that I could not feel or think of anything else. My chest felt on fire and my head felt about to burst, as I attempted to draw breath, yet unable to, and unable to voice the scream that lie quiet in my throat. Suddenly I was not alone in the room. A transparent figure of an older woman was standing over me, looking down, apparently amused by my agony and condition.

    She shook her finger before my face, as though one would scold a small child over some minor infraction and said in a mocking voice:

    “You broke the rules. I’ve been listening and watching to these fools you and your father call friends. One of them actually mentioned me, which I found surprising until I realized it was from that damned letter that your father left and you found. You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you boy? Well if you think these halfwits can find me, you’re sadly mistaken. Soon I’ll be leaving this pesthole of a land and my new armored decoration will of course be coming with me. But you keep hoping, Tormite. It only makes the game more interesting. Besides, since you broke the rules, now your dear mother and sister are now fair game as well.”

    With that, she faded away into nothing and I was able to draw my first breath in what had seemed like many minutes, I crumpled to the floor, my limbs shaking uncontrollably, the absence of pain as sudden as it had begun, yet I felt weak and clammy as though with fever.

    Just then, Shalia walked back into the house, calling my name. I attempted to answer; yet it was more a weak croak than a voice I responded with. She helped me up and into a chair and with a very distraught and worried look on her beautiful face, asked me what had happened, what was wrong. I told her all that occurred the best I could though I could barely speak, then stumbled to our room and bed, my brain slowly recovering and beginning to race, trying to think of what I could do, or what I could have done differently, though it might well be too late to save any of us.

    The next day I awoke, but I feel weak and slowly getting weaker.

    May Torm save us all._


  • FROZEN

    Time had little meaning. He could not move. He did not breathe. He knew neither fatigue nor rest. Only his mind was still active and under his own control. He could only stare at whatever passed before his eyes, unable to look away, and listen to whatever was sound was made within the range of his hearing. She took full advantage of this.

    Most of the time, he was left standing in magical darkness and silence. During these times, he tried to concentrate on who he was, the faces of the people he had left behind, and still retained a spark of hope that he might one day return to. Attempting to keep the madness of being unable to control his own body, of being a prisoner locked in an unmoving cell that was now his body, he would think back on his life. From his earliest memories before he was taken to the Hold, his years of training, then coming to Narfell. And his life since then. Of the mistakes he had made, the few victories he had been allowed, the lives he had saved and the multitude he had taken. He would think on his service to his Lord. Asking the silent question over and over.

    Other times, when it would amuse her, she would allow him to see and sometimes to hear. She made sure he knew that she was the ruler of his world now. Only she decided when he could see and what sights he was allowed. She controlled what sound entered his ears. She was a master of illusion, he had to remind himself time and time again. He wondered often why she hated him so. What had he done to her? She whom he could barely remember as a boy, now her image forever burned into his mind.

    The sights and sounds she allowed him were varied to say the least. At times it was the image of Jubei and Seven together as impassioned lovers. Other times it was Seven, Durai, and Revanna all slowly being flayed alive, their screams sounding so real. She would mock his sacrifice as failed, laughing that she had found a way around their contract and bargain and so they had not been saved at all.

    Other times were perhaps worse, as he wasn’t sure all the sights he saw were mere illusions. She tortured others, men and women both most horribly; their screams of pain and anguish so loud, so ragged as their lives were torn from them. Were these real? Perhaps he would never know. She showed him the death of his parents again and again, how they called out for mercy from one they thought they could trust and yet found none.

    The worst times though, that ate at his heart and spirit most of all, was when she would make it seem as though he was finally being rescued. Here was Sam, Robyn, Vino, Kharbeh, Adam, Alannia, and even Lucia, come to rescue him at last. Sometimes she made it seem as though they were so close to finally freeing him, but it always ended the same. In the torture and dismemberment of his friends before his eyes, their voices shrieking for him to save them, while he stood unable to close his eyes or even turn away.

    She could not touch him. That was part of the bargain and deal that was struck. At times he wondered if death wouldn’t be easier. While she could not touch his flesh, she repeatedly attacked his spirit and his mind with these insidious illusions and scenarios.

    At times, it became difficult to tell his real memories from the detailed scenes she would play out before him. Had Seven cheated on him? Had Revanna been killed? Did he and Robyn really have an affair that had ended in her death by a jealous, raging Seven? Had Durai turned to Bane as his Lord? So many conflicting images, it was becoming harder and harder to tell illusion from reality.

    He had only the few allies of his Lord to help maintain his sanity, the ones she could not see but were always watching, and helping him see far beyond her prison. Durai married to a Sunite? Had he spoken to her? Seven growing thin and weak in Waterdeep? Which were the real sights and events and which were the ones meant only to drive him mad?

    Was the difference that important anymore?

    Darkness. And silence.


  • TALES OF THE SON

    Durai's Log 15

    _We should be back in Norwick tomorrow. The ordeal is finally over, but there are questions remaining that are left unanswered.

    When I arrived to the camp where the auction was to be held, I posed as a bored mercenary and entered the headquarters of the group that was apparently holding the auction where Shay was to be sold. Not only that, but I had been told that this Captain liked to ‘sample the wares’ of the women he sold, so that I knew that I needed to hurry as quickly as I could.

    When I was told to go into the Captain’s room as he was the only one who had the final say on anyone wanting to join them, my heart nearly stopped as I saw the captain was naked, and quite busy with a very familiar blonde and equally naked woman in his arms, returning his passion and lust. Shay.

    Except it wasn’t really, I was quite sure. I had been warned that Chelseah could take the form of others and the more I heard of her, the more this sounded like some strange game she would play, appearing as Shay. After the Captain was finished with her, she seemed to drift off to sleep. He took me back to the main room, and asked me why I wanted to join. I gave him the same story, that I was easily bored and looking for a good job with some excitement and heard he was looking for help. I drank some with the Captain, a very strong ale. Fortunately, he was soon affected by it, and I was able to fake drinking most of it, though the amount I did drink made my head swim more than a little.

    He soon passed out, and I stumbled about the place, trying various doors as the Captain had told me I could stay in the room of one of his men who was missing, a man named Xaris who was his second in command. The others seemed to find my antics humorous. I had poured a great deal of the ale on myself, to be sure to smell like I had been drinking much more than I actually had. I finally found stairs leading down and pretended to stumble down them, where I found a vast cave. To my right I heard a guard yelling at someone telling her to be quiet or he was going to come in there and shut her up. Stumbling and reeling that direction, I introduced myself as the newest member of their company and offered to watch the barred door for him while he went upstairs to drink some, himself. When I mentioned the Captain was already passed out, he finally agreed and off he went.

    I had looked closely at him but saw no obvious key. I wanted to find out who was in that room without drawing too much attention, and if it were Shay, I would get her out and we would flee together. The gate seemed quite secure however, and as I leaned back on it, trying to think, suddenly the woman was behind me, starting to reach through the bars, perhaps for my throat before she stopped. Turning, I was able to see her blonde hair much disheveled, her face dirty, her clothing mere rags. She was still the most beautiful woman in the world to me. It was Shay.

    We whispered back and forth quickly and quietly, she explained that only Chelseah had the key but apparently it turned out she was not to be sold after all. The only thing she knew is that she was to be taken west in a few days, but not to where. I can only thank Torm that Shay said she was unharmed and had been left alone, though the Captain had tried to get her to enter his bed willingly.

    My desperate plan was to go upstairs, confront Chelseah and take the key from her, by force if necessary. Something Shay said about the man called Xaris, this supposed second in command made me pause however. I can’t even now remember what it was, but I decided to find him if I could, and speak with him. I needed an ally desperately, and it sounded more from what Shay had overheard and what I learned from the guards that Xaris might be more than a second in command, and an unhappy one at that.

    The guard returned, Shay and I quickly saying goodbye for now, and she went back deep into her cell. The guard thanked me, and I went back up stairs. Since I was to stay in this Xaris’ room, I thought maybe I could learn something by searching his room, so asked again where it was. I was told, however that Xaris had returned and was already in his room. I decided I had little left to lose and went to the door, opening it as I knocked, closing the door quietly behind me.

    What I learned by speaking to him I won’t reveal now at Shay’s request that I not speak of it, but suffice it to say that a bargain was struck and that he agreed for reasons of his own to get the key from Chelseah and he would give Shay and I at least a chance of escape, albeit reluctantly. Chelseah was in her Sunite robes, her face covered when we entered the Captain’s room, but after an angry exchange with Xaris, pressed the key into my hands and told me she would be calling out for the guards shortly. Xaris seemed to think this reasonable.

    I quickly ran out of the room, taking Shay’s belongings and the key. As I ran down the dank, stone steps to the cave below, I heard Chelseah begin her shouts of intruder. I blocked the door the best I could after shutting it behind me, and continued down, and faced two ready guards, swords drawn. The fight was vicious but quick. I had no time for defense, attacking the best I could, taking more chances than I normally would. I had to reach Shay, free her from the cell, then we had to flee out the back exit of the cave, to the docks beyond.

    I finally finished the last of the two, hearing the guards upstairs trying to break down the door, and quickly ran to Shay’s cell door and freed her. She quickly dressed and we ran. We encountered a few more of the Captain’s men along the way, but were able to win our freedom, bloodied but alive. At the docks we secured passage aboard a ship and fled away from the island.

    Shay and I had our much-belated wedding night aboard the ship, and I decided that Shay needed rest from her captivity before the long journey back to Narfell. We went back to Silverleaf in Aglarond for a few days of rest, Shay showing me around the village where she had been raised. There was, somewhat to my chagrin, a religious ceremony at the temple that required the Sunite faithful to be naked. However I attended as well, fully armored and armed. I remained at Shay’s side, giving anyone who seemed to get too close to her a hard look, which was enough to stop any plans they may or may not have had on my wife. I never had to actually draw my sword once.

    Questions remain about this mysterious Xaris and who he might be. And of Chelseah. Will either of them be threats in the future to us? Finally, for reasons I will not detail here, Shay has asked me to not speak of her capture and our ordeal. I have agreed, for now. I will not lie, but won't speak of these events to anyone, at least for now. In any case, Shay and I are both quite weary, but should be back in our bed tomorrow. Praise and thanks to Torm and to Sune that we have returned safely. Tomorrow I must check to see what progress has been made on the search for my father._


  • TALES OF THE SON

    Durai's Log 14

    _Shay has been betrayed by her own. The Sunite that took her is apparently no Sunite at all, or at least not any more. My chase has taken me to Silverleaf where Shay was raised and have met with the enigmatic High Priestess Cathrine. She told me the story of her sister priestess Chelseah. Of how she was badly disfigured in a fire and apparently it ate at her soul, until she secretly turned to Cyric to make her beautiful once more.

    Why this twisted woman went to the trouble to capture Shay I am unsure, but I have learned of what fate awaits my love if I am unable to stop it. Shay is to be sold as a slave at a secret auction in the Pirate Isles, where I find myself now. With the help of Lady Cathrine, I have been able to make my way here. I am now on a caravan heading toward this secret auction on this island that seems little more than sand named Hell. I am unsure how I will secure Shay's freedom. However, I must find a way. Torm please show me a way._


  • TALES OF THE SON

    Durai's Log 13

    ::His writing is little better than a hurried scrawl::

    I have little time. I am gasping for breath, I've been pushing myself hard, rushing south as quick as I am able. When I awoke and found Shay gone, my heart felt as torn away as she has been from my arms. I found a few clues, thank Torm, and think I know their destination, or at least where they originated from. I wish I would have had time to leave to leave word for Sam, or someone, but I felt that if I hurried, if I rushed I might soon catch them. Such has not been the case. I feel strength returning to my limbs. Back to the chase. Torm give me strength.


  • TALES OF THE SON

    Durai's Log 12

    _Yesterday was my birthday. Shay and Nico both got together and gave me a great gift. A new masterfully made sword. Miss Robyn brought pastries and a fine wine, and Miss Ly’Ahnna gave me a gift as well. Hopefully this new year of my life will go better than the last one ended.

    The other day, as I was walked up onto Sam’s hill, the man known as Juno was there, and apparently heard for the first time, from me talking to another, that my father was missing. He mentioned that had he known this, he would have gotten into much more mischief than he already had, and then his next words made me see red with anger. He claimed that my mother probably wouldn’t be too concerned or be looking for my father as she had a boyfriend, a lover.

    In my mind’s eye, he was already lying sprawled out, mouth bloody, apologizing for his foul words. I quickly challenged him to a duel which he at first refused, though I continued to demand for one hotly. Finally he agreed and the battle for the honor of my mother’s name began. I think I actually hit him once. My defensive fighting allowed me to last some time, but the eventual victor was never in doubt. The man fought expertly and slowly wore me down. Despite my best efforts, it was I who lie on the grass, mouth bloody and unconscious and he stood over me victorious. I had fought an honorable duel. I hadn’t used magic against him, or to heal myself, of course.

    This was yet another painful reminder of something I knew already but had forgotten in my anger. I was not my father. I would never be the Paladin, the warrior, the knight that he was. Though I had been taught that honor must be defended, by sword point if need be, I saw now the man had simply goaded me into a fight for his own amusement. Walking away would have been the best action for me, Shay helped me later see. What was worse was that because both Shay and I were angry, things became strained between us and Rick and Aaimie, through no real fault of theirs.

    Shay and I walked off, and then in my frustrated anger, I said things to her as well that I shouldn’t have before I finally came to my senses, calmed down, and realized all this and quickly apologized to Shay. I still need to set things right with Rick and with Aaimie. When Juno happened along again, he said he remembered the name of my mother’s supposed lover and said that it was Jubei, which made me laugh. I was laughing more at myself for fighting over something so ridiculous, I saw now. Jubei had sought to kill my mother and father for many years, and claimed that he would take Revanna and I, claims he never fulfilled. I would have thought the man Juno could have at least come up with the name of someone who might have been believable. The more fool, I. I did suggest, quite calmly to Juno that he should keep that story to himself unless he had proof, unless he wished Sam to hear the lies he was telling about the wife of one his best friends.

    Shay and I went on into Norwick, where some of the people there wished me a good birthday after Shay announced it at the well, a bit to my chagrin. Ly’Ahnna apparently already knew what day it was and had a small gift ready for me. Shay, myself, Ly’Ahnna, and a monk who’s name escapes me now went out into the deep woods to patrol against the goblins. All returned safely, thank Torm, though it was close at a few points. Shay really needs to rely more on her bow and be a bit more cautious in combat, we both later discussed.

    Shay and I returned home, Miss Robyn dropped her present off and then left. Shay gave me the new sword as a gift, so now I can return Sam’s sword to him. Shay and I spent the remainder of the evening together, in expressions of passion and love that I won’t detail here.

    One final thought that I feel I must write is that this was the first birthday that Revanna and I have had apart, and I haven’t seen her yesterday or today. Where could she be?_


  • While sitting on the hillside near Jiyyd, after finishing writing the latest log entry into his book, Durai began to put the book away into his pack when it began. It started with a feeling he was being branded, his chest on fire, the pain grew and continued until he could only sit limply in the grass, pale and sweating, unable to call out for help or in pain.

    The agony continued for what seemed a long time to the young man, though was likely less than a minute or two. Just when he knew he couldn't survive another moment, he was released. The pain gone, and he fell back onto the hill, blackness mercifully taking him.

    Second warning.

    The voice spoke these two words then the robed and cowled form left, leaving the young man lying in the grass.


  • TALES OF THE SON

    Durai's Log 11

    _The pace of events only seems to quicken more and more each day. And yet, the more I learn in my search to find my father, the more hesitant I am to write such details in this log as it could be found and used by our enemies, I will therefore, continue to be vague when I feel I must.

    Shay returned much sooner than expected, surviving a terrible ordeal that I believe begins to show her true metal. Her revelations of what occurred during her journey may be key in our search for my father. She now wears a ring of engagement from me, that I was able to purchase in Peltarch, I am happy to say. I must admit here though, that our relationship has had it’s ups and downs in the days since her return, but nothing has occurred or been said that we weren’t able to put right, once reason prevailed. Though we are both so young, (Shay’s surprise announcement of her birthday and my reaction isn’t something I need to include in detail, I don’t believe) we seem very comfortable in each other’s presence and being with her simply feels right. We have had a few disagreements about issues of faith, she being of Sune and I of Torm, but I feel we will work successfully through them, as our bond of love grows stronger each day.

    On a sadder note, while visiting the local healer Vroka, I spied the beaten and torn body of a woman lying in the repose of death there. Then I realized who it was. Yolande the sorceress, who seemed so tortured from her terrible upbringing and childhood was the woman. Robbed in death of her beauty, her strange eyes open wide in horror of her obviously painful death. When I asked Vroka about her returning to life, the healer sadly told me that Yolande’s spirit had apparently been taken by a powerful, evil force and that it would not return her to life, despite the healer’s efforts. I’ll have to be sure to tell Nico and Sam. Shay was concerned that the young woman would attempt to change my affections to her, even though I knew that my feelings of love are only for Shay, but now, the matter seemed ended once and for all.

    Lady Diams, as she prefers I call her now, has returned as well, bearing what news she found on her journeys. I know that I angered her with my explanation of why I chose Torm and not Helm to follow as my Lord. But the truth remains. Torm is entirely of Goodness, there is no taint of evil allowed in his followers, yet to Helm Evil and Good are equal, Order and Law being above all things. Telling this to a Paladin of such a god was not wise and was something I should have left unspoken, but the damage is already done. I miss when she asked me to simply call her Alannia, but see no way to unsay what I have said. Time will tell, I suppose.

    Revanna grows stronger in her faith to the Eternal Watcher, and is often busy with her own affairs. Strangely, though we now live in the same house, I see little of her, she being gone, or I being gone while she is there. Perhaps she is avoiding me, perhaps she was told what I said to Lady Diams, or knows my reasons though unspoken to her. I am unsure.

    I have written a letter to my mother telling her of what has been happening, to keep strong in her faith that we will find my father and return him to her. I have also asked her what she knows of the strange druidess Ly’Ahnna, and the claims that she has made that my mother was barren and unable to have children until she interceded and in so doing, helped both Revanna and I to be born. I am very curious on what my mother’s reply will be.

    Things continue. The search continues. And we await news from someone on what they may have been able to learn. I will pray to Torm for my Shay, my mother and my father, and for us all to assist us in this time and to allow us to find my father and rescue him safely._


  • TALES OF THE SON

    RITE OF PASSAGE

    _Shalia had left once more, this time east out of Jiyyd. She was on another caravan to head to far Aglarond. Their parting was difficult, though both realized necessary for Shalia to honor her commitments to her church. Revanna was doing well, slowly getting used to the violent, chaotic land that was Narfell. Sir Adam had found some new information in the search for his father, so hope continued and was perhaps renewed somewhat.

    However, Durai’s thoughts turned to a recent event, something that he viewed as a turning point in his acclimation to this deadly place and in becoming a man and worthy priest to his Lord._

    Durai was walking along the road from Jiyyd to Norwick, as he had so many times before, when he saw him. A man stood blocking the road ahead. A man encased in chainmail, with a heavy mace and strong shield. Durai remembered running from such a man before, being told by Sam to flee from them, as they were priests of whatever god the bandits served. They used both divine power and had some skill in close combat as well, dangerous adversaries for most weary road travelers.

    Seeing Durai, in his bright breastplate and greaves approach, the priest raised his voice and laughed aloud.

    “Going to run this time, boy? I’m sure a scared rabbit like you should be able to outrun me if you start now. Go on, run boy, RUN!” and nearly doubled over in laughter at his own joke.

    Durai stood silent and still for a moment, then drew his sword from his sheath and slowly approached, warily, shield held high.

    “I am through running from the likes of you. You give the name priest a dark mark that, Torm willing, as a priest of the Loyal Fury, I will erase.”

    Seeing the young determined man approach, the bandit priest smiled, though without humor. He waited until the young man was close enough then began shouting a prayer to his god, calling for the approaching Tormite to be cursed and weakened.

    Seeing the priest begin his prayer, Durai quickened his pace and moved toward the man, though too late to disrupt the dark prayer. Durai clenched his teeth, muttering for Torm to protect him and felt the dark curse for a brief second then it was gone, he was unharmed and unaffected.

    The bandit priest uttered a curse of another sort as Durai swung his large blade at him, receiving the blow on his shield that nearly numbed his arm. Giving the boy an appraising glance, the bandit priest suspected divine enhancement to the boy’s strength, but there was little that could be done about it now…

    The fight went on for some long minutes. Durai fought as he was trained, defense first, only striking at obvious openings, trying to wear his opponent down. Though the priest tried again and again, he was only able to strike a glancing blow against the young Tormite’s shoulder, and was bleeding himself from several small wounds and cuts. The bandit priest attempted to heal himself but was interrupted by a well timed strike by the young man. Spitting blood and panting the bandit priest realized he would not survive another day unless he asked for mercy. Sneering and angry at himself for such a thought, he redoubled his own efforts, his broken shield dropping from his grasp and swung at the young man’s head with his remaining strength. Durai had slightly let his guard down, preparing for a finishing move against the bandit priest so was caught flat-footed by the sudden attack.

    The mace struck though thankfully he was able to turn his head and it was a glancing blow, but blood now ran free from the new wound, as he stumbled forward toward the bandit priest, more than slightly dazed. If the bandit had kept his shield he might have been able to block or avoid the sword that thrust into and through his abdomen, as Durai stumbled forward, dazed. His vision went black, as dark blood fountained from the mouth of the now dead bandit priest. Durai stumbled a bit, then regained his wits enough to whisper a prayer to Torm to allow him to heal his wounds.

    Tilting his head, he heard them approaching. Turning quickly around, Durai saw no less than two more bandit priests, and a bandit mage running toward him, only a short distance away, shouting how they would get vengeance for their fallen brother. The bandit mage cast a spell that sent a magical acidic arrow at Durai, which was stopped by the protections he had currently in place…but for how long? And how could he face this attack and deal with two more bandit priests when he was already winded and exhausted from his fight with one?

    He couldn’t, Durai realized and turned to run south towards Norwick, feeling no shame in running from a superior force in both numbers and strength. That’s when he felt the shivers begin, his mind suddenly filled with pain and he nearly fell over, forcing him to walk instead of run. One of the bandit priests had cursed him. Durai continued to move south, thinking if he could gain the position of Sam’s hill, at least he would make a good accounting of himself before they finished him, perhaps he could even kill one of the priests…

    Suddenly a large armored form came barreling down the hill that Durai was so desperately trying to climb, ran past him and into the bandit priests. Forcing himself to turn, Durai saw that the large warrior was quickly tearing into first one priest, the other, then finally the mage, all in a much shorter time than it had taken him to deal with the single priest.

    Sam helped Durai to the top of the hill, after taking the weapons from the fallen and wiping his blade clean. Durai rested then on Sam’s hill, eyes drooping in the campfire that Sam had made, and drifted to sleep realizing that though he had nearly died, he had faced a bandit priest on his own and was victorious. A small victory perhaps, but one that Durai would gladly accept.

    Durai returned to the present from his musings and went back into his family’s home, hearing Revanna already awake and having started her daily routine of prayer. The door into the house closed quietly, though eyes unseen watched on.


  • TALES OF THE SON

    Durai's Log 10

    _I see its past time to update my log again. Events continue and I really need to work at writing in this thing, if I want it to accurately portray my time here in Narfell. I met some more of my parents old friends. Wilhelm, a poetic sounding druid with a very large ravenous looking wolf as a companion, and Reginald Charlesgate who said he ‘pursued’ my mother. I didn’t ask him to elaborate as I found those thoughts a bit unsettling. Then, I was shocked with happy surprise; Shay had returned, her caravan trip aborted. She fell into my arms and I kissed her quite happily and soundly.

    She seemed very tired and her shoulder was sore she said from some incident on the road. I suppose I should have asked more pointed questions then, as her shoulder wasn’t simply bruised, there was poison and worse already at work at her system, we later learned. A few days later, when I examined her still sore shoulder, we found tiny thorns still embedded in her shoulder, the skin blackened with still open sores. I then asked in more detail of what exactly had happened, and Shay told of the animated vines that had attacked their caravan, and how a few died, she was injured, and this was the reason they turned back. I attempted several prayers to heal the wound, but none succeeded, despite my best efforts. Shay seemed at times to be almost normal to times of near unconsciousness. I found Sam, as I was half-carrying Shay north, thinking that if anyone could help us it would be Priestess Daisy of Tyr in Peltarch.

    When Sam saw her, how pale and lifeless Shay was, he was very worried and had me quickly tell him what was going on. Sam then said that Daisy wasn’t who we needed, but instead one of the ‘earth people’. I guessed he meant druids, and my guess turned out right. We turned around, and headed back south into Norwick, but saw no druids about. I thought perhaps the man named Vino might be able to help, and he did, at least somewhat, giving us some crushed herbs to be used in a tea to help slow the poisonous effects. Sam helped brew the tea and I mostly forced the foul smelling liquid down her throat. I can only imagine how bad it must have tasted, but it did seem to help her, almost immediately.

    Sir Cyrus and Sir Roland both attempted to heal poor Shay, but nothing seemed to work. Sam ran off to find a druid and told us to meet him at the Druid’s Glenn. I helped Shay up and we rushed off into the woods…when I suddenly realized I had no idea where this glen was. Fortunately others did, and we found and entered the somber, quiet home of the local druids and a delightful little druidess named Rera listened in rapt attention as Shay described the attack and the animated vines in detail. The little druidess was able to first stop the effects and then remove small wriggly plant-things from Shay’s shoulder and destroyed them. I thanked Rera for her help, for returning Shay to health once more.

    Then Sam and Cyrus seemed to have an argument about Sam’s entry into the Order of the Divine Shield. Cyrus seemed very reticent about allowing Sam entry, as they had apparently disagreed many times in the past. After tempers had flared all around, and I thought the matter lost, Shay took Cyrus aside and spoke quietly to him, and he suddenly reversed his decision allowing a still scowling Sam entry into the Order. I have new respect for Shay’s ability to reason with people. I was quite impressed, actually.

    Shay and I left the druid’s glen, and make our way back into Norwick, my arm wrapped around her waist. As we were walking toward the center of town I saw her, and stopped in shock and great surprise. I rushed up to her, crushing her in a hug, kissing her cheek. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a beautiful young woman, indeed. Shay, misunderstanding, started to brush past us, apparently thinking I was embracing a girlfriend or some such. I quickly explained the situation; I was simply hugging my sister, who I now saw so resembled our mother. Revanna Hightower, Paladin of Helm had come to Norwick.

    We laughed and I asked how she was here and why. Revanna said she had come for the same reason as I. To find our father. Apparently mother wasn’t doing all too well, spending a great deal of time in prayer, not eating properly and perhaps growing weaker. I introduced my Shay to Revanna as my fiancé, waiting for Revanna to pass judgement, but she did not, simply saying that Shay should write our mother and that I should write more as well. Sam was shocked, surprised and then went about the business of making sure that Revanna had proper equipment to defend and protect herself in this savage land.

    Shay seemed a bit distant as onlookers stopped and spoke to Revanna, my heart was filled with some joy at having her here, as we were twins and had not been separated so long before. Yet I noticed that Shay started to hang back, stepping away a bit, then said she was going home to rest, somewhat abruptly. I followed after her, telling Revanna, who I had always called ‘Vanna when we were growing up, that I would return soon.

    Chasing after Shay, I have to admit I was quite confused by her reaction, but she said she thought that now Revanna would push her from my attention, and of that of Sam’s and our friends. I attempted to explain how wrong she was in the best way I could and think I succeeded at least somewhat. Shay said she really was tired and that she needed to rest, after everything she had been through. She asked me to go back and help get my sister settled, and to take my time.

    I returned to find my sister near surrounded by on-lookers, a great deal of them young men our own age and couldn’t decide if I should be a jealous ‘older’ brother or not. One thing was for sure, though. Whatever it was that didn’t like me being in Narfell would likely not be pleased by Revanna’s arrival._


  • TALES OF THE SON

    Durai's Log 9

    _Shay and I spent our last night together last night. A final night together of passion and love spent before the fireplace, both trying to forget what the morning would bring, if only for a little while. I will miss her very much and will pray for her safety and fast return. I have now, the memories of our times together, and the letter I just found she had left for me, to comfort me in her absence. She asked me to marry her, again. This time it was no ploy to avoid trouble or deception. While I was taken aback again somewhat by her forwardness, I found only one answer in my heart. Yes. Our engagement will not be short, as we both see how young we both are can hear the obvious objections, unspoken. Too young. Too inexperienced. Too soon. However, throwing caution to the wind, we have made this pledge, one to the other in the name of love and truth.

    Love and truth. Shay and I had a discussion late last night, or at least most of one…about this. She worships Lady Firehair, goddess of Love and Beauty. I of course worship Torm, god of Truth and Duty. Is it so strange that two such people would find love and happiness in each other’s arms? Sam’s face wasn’t exactly filled with joy when we told him. While I wish he would understand and be happy for us, I can understand his reticence. His is the voice of reason based on a lifetime of experience. As my father is fond of saying “Time will tell”. Either we were meant for each other and all will work out accordingly, or it won’t. Our choices are already made, however. Time will tell, Torm and Sune willing, all will be well.

    Shay and I walked quietly to the elven enclave south of Norwick, hand in hand just a few hours ago, the light of morning on the horizon, driving the night away. We said our goodbyes and I kissed her a final time, watched as she joined a caravan heading south. She disappeared into the distance, taking my heart with her.

    To add to my morose mood this morning is the news from Miss Robyn that although she searched the bordering lands all around Narfell, there is no sign and no one seems to remember my father passing through their lands. Perhaps Miss Robyn missed something, but she seems to think now perhaps he never left Narfell at all. When asked where she would look, she only cryptically replied “Hidden places.” No word from anyone else yet on their searches. Hope remains within me.

    My bond to Torm continues to deepen and grow. I have new prayers of wondrous power available to me. I will spend this time, while Shay is so far away, in meditation, prayer and study. I will try to gain a better understanding of my Lord, and to understand these new powers I have been given, and how best Torm would wish me to put them to His use. May I understand His will. May I find my father’s fate, and may Shay return safe and unharmed. These things I will pray each night._


  • TALES OF THE SON

    Durai's Log 8

    _For duty’s sake, I’m writing this. I don’t feel much like doing it, but feel that I should. The day of Shay’s leaving approaches soon. I will pray for her safety each day and for a quick return. Things continue to progress with agonizing slowness in my search for my father. I’ve received no word from Senator Vino, old Mr. Adam, Miss Robyn, or Lady Alannia, though it’s been some time now. I suppose I’ll simply have to be patient and hope something is found, but I will keep trying to think of anything I can do as well, continuing to help patrol the forests south of Norwick, aiding those in the never-ending war against the goblin horde.

    I have had a few adventures since I last added to this log, I see. I was part of a quick strike against a goblin lair, home of the goblin leader Skara. I’m not sure how successful our mission was, though. Skara had fled before we could reach her, along with a great deal of her forces, I think. We slew many, many goblins and yet there seems to be always more. And we had a death in our party, for which I feel some shame. I tried to reach the man in time, his body fountaining with red rivulets as goblins stabbed into him again and again, but death took him before my prayers to Torm were completed. The rest of us survived, destroying what supplies and equipment we could find there, and then left before reinforcements came.

    I had a duel. Well more of a simple sparring match, actually. The man was the quiet, mild mannered man who simply wishes to be known by O. He wore no armor, held no weapon, yet was able to defeat me, and I was in half-plate, with bastard sword and shield. Sir Rick said he was impressed though, as I lasted a long time against the robed warrior O, before exhaustion and pain caused me to blackout. The training from the Academy is truly useful. While you are not able to attack very well at all when using the defensive tactics I’ve been shown, your enemy cannot harm you easily as well. A worth-while trade off if you have allies nearby, able to kill your enemy while you keep it engaged in melee combat.

    Sam and I had already reconciled our differences and I think Sam likes Shay, whether he wants to or not. He seemed pleased when Shay asked him about helping her with her ‘war against the kitchen’ and like any good field general changed the field of battle. Instead of Sam coming back to the house to help Shay (and, reluctantly, myself, as Shay was able to get me to agree to learn as well…I see I’m going to need to learn to not look so closely into her eyes when she wants something, or I’ll soon be converted to Sune and wearing red all the time.)

    Instead we went out hunting for birds and well, dogs. Shay and I both agreed that rats were out the question. Sam showed us both what plants to look for, for vegetables and spices. It seems I’ll be doing most of the killing for meat, however, as Shay seems very reticent about touching or handling anything dead or bloody. She only threw up once, I’ll say to her credit, when the meat was cut from the large dogs we found.

    Sam proceeded to give us quite a lesson in food preparation over an open fire, and Shay did very well under his tutelage. She seemed quite proud when the food she had helped prepare neither made me ill nor caused any chipped teeth. It was actually quite delicious!

    I cannot help but feel saddened that she’s leaving in less than a week and I find that we’re spending almost every moment of it together. I also cannot help but worry about Shay, being a beautiful young woman, traveling so far without escort. If only the fate of my father had already been found, I would go with her and face this journey at her side. I can’t help but feel torn, wanting to do both at once. I will pray to Torm to help guide her path safely to her far home, and then back again into my arms once more._


  • TALES OF THE SON

    Durai's Log 7

    _I don't feel much like writing today. Shay will be leaving after all back to her home, and in less than a month. She says she will return as soon as she has faced her penance, but cannot say how long that might be. I'll attempt to keep a happy face for her. She wasn't lying when she said she couldn't cook. Her first attempt at bread was almost lethal to a man who looked like he could eat anything. We both continue to live at my family home together, at least happy for now.

    I saw Sam in the passionate embrace of one woman, and apparently spurning the advances of another. He and I had quite an argument one day, and I said things I should not have, it shames me to say. I later apologized, but I can't help but think that Sam has been acting more than a bit strange lately. I'm not sure what it might mean.

    There is not a day that goes by that someone I have never seen walks up to, perhaps peering at my face, seeing it as somewhat familiar and asking who I am. I am given constant reminders of my father. They are all around me. A hin wanted to sing me a song about my father, I refused, forcing a smile, as politely as I could.

    If it's not that, it's people attempting to restrict my movements. I've been called 'target' and most see me as little more than a child. I have been granted some ability at healing by Torm, and have taken it upon myself to help others in the woods who may need aid, doing my Duty to the town. But no matter what I seem to do, it doesn't seem good enough for somebody. The shadow of my father weighs very heavily at times. I try to tell them I am not him, I never will be. I am a healer, not a holy knight. That is not my path, can't they see?

    Oh and then the false Shadowstrider is loose once again. He was sentenced to die, but escaped from Waterdeep, the messenger told me. Torm only knows where he will go. I know I argued for the right thing when there were those who wanted to murder him while helpless, but if he kills again now, I won't be able to help but feel at least partially responsible.

    I will sorely miss Shay every day she is gone, after she leaves. Though I must at least confess here, that I think about another at times. Dark hair, though reddish. Is it wrong to simply admire beauty?_


  • TALES OF THE SON

    Durai's Log 6

    _The day after Shay and I had made our awkward and silent journey back to Norwick back from the city, I was sitting on the hill, watching as the water plummeted down the stream below. It was near-idyllic spot. Every time I attempted to study from the prayerbooks and study-guides before me, images of her kept interrupting me. From her first smile when we met, scant weeks ago, to the sullen expression she had as we went our separate ways yesterday, and everything in between. I attempted once more to force myself to concentrate on my studies, only to see a shadow over my book. I looked up to see the Lady Alannia Diams. Her hair greyed, her one eye missing and patched, but standing straight and tall, obviously proud of her life of service to Helm and all the sacrifices she had to make during it. Her eyes looked a bit weary, but otherwise she seemed hale and resolute in her black and gold full plate. She had returned from Helm’s Hold, apparently, as quietly as she had gone.

    I stood quickly, pushing my morose and lovelorn woes aside and quickly greeted Lady Alannia. I had only the deepest respect for her. My father had impressed on me his own deep feelings of respect for her, her trials, what she had endured, and he spoke many times of her honor, courage and quiet and sometimes unnoticed leadership. My father would at times say that he considered her the real hero that some claimed he was.

    When she asked me for what news had occurred with me since she had left, I think I may have shocked her, at least a bit, when I described all the events that had occurred to me during her absence. I told her how I had fallen in love with a Sunite priestess, been kidnapped and rescued, fallen out of sorts with my girl, and attacked by something or someone while sleeping at the Inn. She replied that I had, apparently been quite busy and seeing the most important thing in my list, started asking me about the attack.

    I told of her the events, and she asked to see the mark on my chest, which I showed her, opening the top of my robe. She looked closely at it for some time, but while agreeing it seemed a bit odd for a symbol of Helm, was unable to determine exactly why, and seemed visibly worried and puzzled about what it might mean. She then surprised me with her next words. She said we were going to see a bandit, a rogue, a scoundrel, a ne’er-do-well, but that I could trust him with my life. She turned and began to walk down the hill, back toward the center of town and the well, I threw my books into my pack and quickly hurried after her, wondering what she could mean.

    As we approached the well, Lady Alannia saw old Mr. Adam and said hello to him, and I did as well. She started to introduce me to Mr. Adam, but Adam quickly helped her understand that, as we had lived in the same town for years, he knew me already. They spoke a bit cryptically for a bit, about old times, I suppose, something about Mr. Adam saying he preferred when Lady Alannia treated him like a demon, it sounded like to me, but I’ve noticed that the older inhabitants of Narfell seem to make strange, cryptic statements and that it seems best to simply listen and ask about it later, if time is found.

    With some apparent distaste, Lady Alannia said to Mr. Adam that his help was needed. He agreed after some humorous comment that I cannot remember now, and both of them started to head to Friar Freds. I stood there, puzzled somewhat and said aloud to Lady Alannia that I had thought we were going to see a bandit? She shot a look at me, and said quietly that she had not said he was a bandit, exactly, which caused Mr. Adam to laugh further, when it slowly dawned on me what Lady Alannia had really meant.

    I followed quietly to the Friar’s where Alannia asked me to inform Mr. Adam about what happened during the attack. When I started saying about how someone had entered the room, Mr. Adam immediately interrupted saying that we should go to my room and search it, as evidence might have been left behind, and that he could likely find the source of any hidden clues. I stammered a bit as I admitted that I had not, exactly, been in ‘my’ room, when this attack had occurred. When asked further, I admitted, somewhat red-faced, that I had been in Shalia’s room during this attack, which caused Mr. Adam to laugh at my embarrassment, saying something about how the son was like the father, which caused Lady Alannia to flash a dark look at Mr. Adam saying that she didn’t want to hear it and that this was a serious matter. What he might have meant by that, I decided, I didn’t really care to know or ask further about

    Finally, after I showed the rune that was marked on my chest, Mr. Adam had his own ideas on what it might mean, but again I will be vague here, in case this log fall into the wrong hands. Lady Alannia, further , spoke of what she had learned in Helm’s Hold and of my father’s family. Again details will remain vague. It was decided then to find Shalia and ask permission to search her room for any clues the mysterious attacker may have left behind. We searched through the town and entered the Boar’s Head, but did not see Shalia anywhere.

    I said that I would return shortly and ran out the door, thinking of a couple places where she might be, and preferring to speak to her privately first about this, instead of approaching her with this with Lady Alannia and Mr. Adam in tow. I saw her leaving the Friar’s, and quickly ran up to her, my words rushed, my feelings mixed. I wanted to taker her into my arms then, but there was a distance between us, things that still needed saying, perhaps, perhaps something else. A bit abruptly, and perhaps gruffly, I explained the situation, and how I had been attacked that night in her room, and that we needed to search it for possible clues.

    She seemed shocked, upset and perhaps somewhat angry as I rushed to briefly explain what I had not before, saying that I had meant to tell her, but with the way things had happened, I hadn’t found the right time. Just then Lady Alannia rushed up, apparently upset with me, Mr. Adam in tow. She said that I shouldn’t run off like that. I suppose I snapped a bit at her, saying that I was a priest of Torm, and that I would not cower in a hole from my enemies. Then Shay and I got into a heated discussion about her not telling me the entire truth, and my keeping this attack from her. We went back and forth for some minutes, I suppose. Shay said she wouldn’t be leaving after all, much to my surprise. Lady Alannia let us continue on for some time before stiffly reminding us that we had more important business to attend to.

    Shay and I agreed and we both went up to her room to search. My eyes were drawn to the bed as we entered her room, the very same bed we had shared just a few nights before, full of passion and desire for each other. When I looked at Shay, she was looking at the bed as well. We glanced at each other then away. We attempted to move around the small room without making contact with the other, while trying to search for…anything.

    Stopping her for a moment, I told her the entire story of how something had came through the window the other night, the mark, everything. Just then she help a piece of fabric she found apparently stuck to a loose nail on the side of the bed I had slept. Speaking quietly, we resolved our differences, made up, as it were, and made our way back downstairs to tell Alannia. She said we should give the piece of fabric to Mr. Adam, which I shall when I see him next.

    Alannia left us, Shay and I traveled to and stayed in my family home in Jiyyd. Once there, I thought of a fine way to show my trust in her. I asked her to stay there with me. While she says she cannot cook, I think we will find a way to make things work. Making up can be quite pleasant, it seems, as I learned last night before the fireplace with Shay. May Torm guide us all, so I pray._


  • He sits there on the window sill, his wings folded behind him, cloaked invisible to the naked eye. His name is unimportant to most mortals, save his mistress, and even she has resorted to using a nickname lest her tongue twist in agonizing efforts to pronounce his real one. A small taloned finger reaches out, and dark yellow eyes peruse the journal in the early morning light.

    His mistress has grown in power he mused…his power to her, her to him bound by dark contract. The other day she merely glanced at a Marauder Priest, one of the Faithful, and he aborted his determined attack and walked away smiling.

    Now she used his eyes as extensions of her own, his fingers hers as he deftly flipped the pages. Then with patience born of immortality, he placed the journal in the exact position it was in prior to his arrival and turned to leave. There was a brief glance at the sleeping form of Shalia before ascending into the morning sky.