I keep this diary now.. as some form of record of our journey. I don’t know who is going to read this.. but I feel its important to leave something behind, so someone at least knows what really happened, and why we did the things we did. They say it is impossible to judge a man, unless you have walked a mile in his shoes. I invite you now to walk for a time in my shoes, and see the world through my eyes, and you can judge for yourself if what I did, was right or wrong. These days I begin to wonder if there ever was such a thing as true right or wrong. The line between good and evil blurs so much that I can hardly see the difference anymore. One rules by fear, the other by force and law. One seeks the blood of innocents, the other seeks the blood of its faithfull martyrs, one thing they both share is that their plots or plans never seem to move forward without the waters of the world being made red with blood. I was born as a human, to a loving mother and father I still think of often, but these days I can hardly remember.
Everyone has an agenda, and with reguard to all of this I have learned to trust those who supposedly keep the balance least. Druids were the cause of my suffering not so long ago, and the pain of those moments haunt me still, making me wake from sleep with a panting breath or a terrified gasp.
It was November, and as I looked around, the land was firmly in the grip of Winter as I made my way down through the mountain passes towards the city of Dunraven. It had been a long trip from the grove of the druids and exhaustion played about every fiber of my being. I can’t help but laugh as I consider the first time I met Gabriel Rhen, this outcast monk, who would become my dearest friend.
It was late in the afternoon, only a few short days travel from the city proper. Some manner of river beast resembling a large crayfish, had surged up from the waters as I had stopped to rest at the river’s edge. It had caught me by complete surprise, and before I knew what was happening, my arm was snagged by its claw, and was only seconds from becoming a morsel for this ravenous creature.
It was his timely intervention which kept me from becoming so much fish bait that cold November morning. He rushed in to attack, and I felt the magic pour from me to draw itself into a spell that would enlarge him. My powers of the Art were even less potent then they are now, but it was still enough to give him the upper hand and let him kill it. Afterwards, we spoke for a time and set up camp far from the waters of the river.
At that time I had discovered that he too was headed for the city, so we decided there was safety in numbers, and we would best travel together. Like everyone else, Gabriel was curious at first as to what race I was. It was with considerable embarrassment that I had to confide in him, I had no idea. It is a mystery that I still have yet to answer.
November 9thMy memories of the previous life I led are failing, but some things still remain clearer then others. Today started off as a good day, as some of my happier memories worked their way into my dreams. I can only hope that these happy memories will be the last to leave, as other remembered moments, are better left forgotten.
As I entered the city gates of Dunraven, I cannot help but feel the sting of memory from my early childhood. It always was a teeming city, alive and bustling with people, but also accompanied by the foul stink of unwashed humanity. For all their power and majestic glory, you would think Gods or the magi of High sorcery could come up with some great dweomer that would rid the cramped cities of that horrid stench. The drifting whiffs of open sewer mingled with the heady aroma of sweat and stink until I wanted to retch everything I had eaten for the past few days. Even when I was a boy I didn’t remember it smelling this bad, but things were different then, I was different. I was here because I needed to get some distance, earn my place in the world. Settling down was just something I could not do. Sooner or later the druids would come for me, and I didn’t want to stay in one place too long, making it easy for them.
Gabriel and I met with the Baron, who told us about the trade delegation heading North into the lands of the Scro. Why anyone would live in that blasted, gods-forsaken territory is beyond me, but that’s where they were. Furthermore, no one seemed to know a damn thing about them, except that there were enough to cause concern among their neighbors to the south. Diplomats had been dispatched, even a cousin of the Baron had been sent to see that the trade delegation reached its objective intact. But no one had heard from them in weeks. This was where we came in.
The promise of gold and Title of Yeoman were given to the ones who successfully brought back his kin in one piece. The odds were not good, but at this point, two desperate outcasts like Gabriel and I, had nothing to lose, So we accepted. Before setting out from Dunraven, our group had numbered five. Gabriel and I, an Elven magi who was apparently running from the authorities of high sorcery, and lastly a Warrior woman who was a fair hand at combat, but probably about as cunning and sharp as your average lump of mud.
After stocking up on supplies, we hired the services of a riverboat captain to take us North as far as he could. Once we hit ice, from then on it would be up to us.