Please post any journal entries you write here.  They may be worth legend points upon return to the Library of Throal and/or the Spire of Knowledge, as Mountainshadow finds appropriate.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:17, Sun 18 Jan 2009.

      Congratulations, future explorer!  You have stumbled upon one of the greatest treasures of our time: The chronicles of Calypte the Swordsmistress, as penned by my own hand!
     Where to begin?  So much must be common knowledge.  Of course, legends quickly grow distorted, and it certainly can't hurt to establish historical authenticity!  I wouldn't want you to take this to the great Library, only to be laughed away, told, "You can't possibly have found the true chronicles of Calypte!  She was surely too busy to find time to set ink to paper!"  Well, I am here to tell you, Swordswomanship isn't all there is to my life.  One of my foremost mentors was Morgant the Loremaster, so I know well the importance of an accurate record!
     So, to begin with, I'm Human, probably a little shorter than you'd imagine.  My hair gets called `fiery' a lot; honestly, I think it's really more the bright red of fresh blood, but I have a very energetic personality, so I suppose people get that kind of imagery in their heads.  My eyes are green, but not like emeralds.  I used to think they were emerald green, but I've seen some elves with truly emerald eyes, and mine are more like leaves in springtime.  My skin is pretty pale, and tends to go straight to red if it gets too much sun, and I have just a few freckles.
     I dress with flare, and I always have, but I think I keep it together.  I've been compared to "A T'skrang with color sense".  Of course, I challenged the person who said that and made them apologize - I have friends who are T'skrang, and their color vision is just fine, thank you very much.  You can see what he meant, though, and in that sense it was a nice thing to say.
     I'm not really that vain, to keep going on about how I look, I'm just trying to paint a picture for you, and there's probably an easier way.  If you haven't seen my portrait in the Hall of Heroes, it's well worth the trip.  I've been there, and it's already quite impressive.  Of course, as I write this, I'm not actually included there yet, but that's just a matter of time.  For what it's worth, I requested a spot near the end of the left wall in the Walk of Swords.  There's a window opposite that the sun comes through in the mornings just perfectly.  They promised to remember when the time comes.*  I don't know if they actually will - archivists are notoriously absent minded!  And I expect at some point they'll want to put me in the Round Room, but it's not unprecedented to have more than one portrait there.  Why, Thirvius Sunstaff has four!  Of course, he's two kinds of magician AND a Troubador AND a Lightbringer, and after he defeated the Horror of Varsleytown almost single-handedly, what else could you do?
     Now, many people have asked me where I'm from.  The simplest and truest answer is: Barsaive.  Oh, I know, historians want to know the nitty gritty details, and I don't mean to be vexing, but it's not important.  There's a difference between people and their stories.  Everybody has their own story, whether it be full of adventure like mine, or one of romance, or even a simple tale of sowing their fields - in these days, there are no small stories.  Everything is important.  That doesn't conflict with where I just said "it's not important", because I'm talking about different kinds of things.
     Anyway, the point is, where I was born is just a `people' thing.  It's not where my story starts, and what you really want is my story.  Am I right?  Well, unless you're a historian reading this, in which case I'm afraid you're just out of luck.
     So, my story really starts - as many do - soon after my arrival in the Kingdom of Throal.  Really, in the Spire of Knowledge.  That's where I met Vergil Runefist, who I'm sure you've also heard of. (For HIS portrait, you might try the Walk of Spells, if that's not too obvious.)  Naturally, this was when he was barely a neophyte Wizard, but everybody knew he had great potential.  That's why he was sent to Throal in the first place, you see: Magic ran in his family, and those runes are no affectation.  He was actually born with them, right along with his nose.  I don't really mean to draw attention to his nose, because it is a little funny looking.  You might not see that when you go to the Hall - some of the Portraitmasters have a reputation for `fixing' that kind of detail.  Personally, I'm going to go to one that doesn't, but Vergil might decide otherwise.  There's nothing wrong with it, really.
     He was with a group of other dwarves, all studying, which is also why I was there.  There's really not much else to do at the Spire, now that I think about it, so maybe that was obvious, too, but remember what I said at the beginning: There's more to even my life than swordplay!  If you go out into the world without learning about it first, you're doomed to failure.  And especially if, like me, you're determined to go into history, well, then you'd better learn about that, too.
     I picked Vergil out immediately.  Most people probably would have overlooked him, or just been curious about his `tattoos', but I have a sense for people.  I could tell he wanted more out of life than dust and paper.  So I struck up a conversation, and we knew from the first few moments that we'd be a great team.  The bonds of friendship just grew inevitably from there.  He helped me with some of my studying - it's no surprise that a Wizard is going to be better at books than, well, anybody else - while I got him out of the library and had the idea for a little more practical study.
     See, Vergil was a combat Wizard, and Swordsmastery just goes right there, and while study is great, and the training grounds are better...you can only go so far without somebody who's actually trying to hurt you.  If you've never been in a real fight for blood, you'll have to take my word for this: No matter how good you are in theory, or even in practice, you don't learn how to keep your head until you're in real danger.  There's also a very big difference between a fight and a duel.  I've been in any number of duels - it's really just part of Swordsmastery.  I will tell you honestly that I've won most of mine, but I've lost a few, too, and there's no shame in that.  Somebody has to lose, afterall, every time.  But you walk away from that.  Usually.  Obviously, I always have, and so have all but one of those I've duelled against. (The one exception was indeed a duel to the death, at her insistance, but while it's an entertaining tale, it doesn't really belong here.)
     But a real fight, against somebody who isn't trying to prove something, or teach anything... I was told the biggest difference is that there, you're fighting for your life.  My Mentor - my own father - told me that, long before I ventured into the world.  I've found it's one of the few things I disagree with him about.  That's a big difference, but the BIGGEST difference is that THEY are.
     See, I'm often underestimated.  Occasionally for being human, sometimes for being female, often for being a little on the short side...mostly, I think, because of my freckles, which is why I wouldn't have a Portraitmaster take them out.  Now, my father was quite big, and well known to be the best swordsman in the kaer, so he never experienced this.  But when an opponent thinks I'm easy prey, well, they're a little more playful.  Just like somebody in an unfriendly duel.  (Not as playful as somebody in a friendly one, mind you - they're still really trying to hurt me, they just aren't afraid yet.)  Obviously, it never lasts, and it's when they realize I'm dangerous - when their eyes widen, and their heart begins to beat in earnest - well, that's when the fight really starts.
     It's also when I know I've won.
     Mark that, if you've a mind to follow my path.  You may think you have an idea how good your opponent is, but they have a better one.  When they fear you, they know you're better, and the fight is yours.  Until they fear you, well, you have to consider the possibility that maybe they know something you don't.  Maybe they aren't left handed, afterall.  If you're ready for a secondary lesson, it's this: Never fear your enemy.  Fear has its place, but a fight isn't it.  Even if they're better than you are, you don't tell them that.  Keep them guessing, and you might just pull it off anyway.
     So, Vergil and I started - just occasionally - going into some of the worst parts of Bartertown, late in the evening.  This is the best time to look for a fight.  A lot of people make the mistake of going very late, in the dead of night, but honestly, most criminals are asleep then, too, and all of the violent ones.  Of course, your chances of running into an actual Adept are pretty low, so they weren't often very fair fights, though we were usually outnumbered and that goes a long way to evening things up.  But we learned how to work well together in a real fight, and I think we started to get a bit of a reputation.  At least, it gradually got harder to find fights.
     Now, I've found that things have a way of working out for the best.  I don't know if it's true for everybody, but even when things look bad, it usually turns out to be good.  For example, Vergil and I had gone several weeks without any real action.  I managed to get us involved in somebody else's bar brawl, but those have more rules than people think.  Don't get me wrong, it's useful, to duel with an off-balance weapon like a chair once in a while, but it's not what I do.  The point is, I was feeling a little...well, not rusty, but maybe in need of some sharpening.  Unfortunately, Vergil wasn't available, so I went out alone.
     Well, I wasted several hours looking for anybody worth sparring with, before I finally washed up at The Lost Puppy.  It's a tavern, but not really a good place to go for a drink.  It's lousy if you want food, and definitely not the place to find good company.
     But if you're looking for trouble?  Tops.
     That night, the trouble I found wasn't my own.  I took a table, and sat down with my drink, to survey the crowd.  My attention was quickly snagged by the table behind me, though, where three men sat talking.  Now, The Lost Puppy is a noisy place, and I'm not really the type to eavesdrop, but sometimes you just know.  I can't explain it.  I mean, I could hear in their voices that it was something serious, but how I knew I needed to know it?  Well, the same way I knew years before that Vergil was going to be my partner.  It's just a sense I have.
     See, two of the men were talking about a town with troubles, while the third, why, he's the one they were talking to.  An Adept, to be sure; Warrior, by the look of him.  The two had little information and less in silver, but a sound of desperation that went right to my heart.
     Something you have to understand, here.  I don't know how things are when you're reading this.  If I've done my job right, they'll be different, but back in my time, the world is a dangerous place.  Maybe the worst of it passed during the Scourge, but a lot of people point out that the Scourge isn't completely over.  Horrors still lurk, and even where they aren't, their legacy can be just as dangerous.  Namegivers, all of us, well, we basically went into hiding.  Not that we had any choice, but we gave the world over to the Horrors for several centuries, and they took the time to turn even nature against us.  Whenever a new Kaer is discovered, you never know if it's going to have a new and interesting society of Namegivers, ready to come out into the light and contribute to the rebirth of the world...or a twisted trap left by Horrors, waiting in the darkness to destroy those who stumble upon it.  And of course, you can't ignore the possibility of finding an ACTUAL Horror.  And there's always the risk that what might seem like a happy new community ready to come out might turn out, years later, to be an especially twisted trap left by Horrors.
     So, dangerous place, and Adepts - all of us, really - are working against that.  I guess there are a few exceptions, rare Adepts who've fallen onto the paths of the Mad Passions or been corrupted by Horrors, and maybe even a few who are just following their own way...but mostly, where you get the conflict, it's because we have different ideas how to do it.
     But here's the thing: We're putting our lives on the line.  More than our lives.  We're the ones looking for new kaers, and trying to find out what's in them.  We're the ones who go in when the inhabitants of the local cemetery get up and start killing other people.  Or, as Hoskil Heavyhammer put it, we're the idiots who run the wrong way when somebody yells "Horror!"  You can probably tell he's a Warrior.  I don't think we're idiots, but he says that just proves his point.
     What I'm getting at here, though, is you don't get many Adepts whose hearts aren't in the right place, when it comes down to it.  But it honestly is a big deal, what we do, and it really is `what we do'...so it shouldn't be so surprising that almost all of us charge money for our services.  Some of us are more mercenary than others, but we all have to eat, and the better equipment we have, the better we can protect people.  In my experience, most people understand this, but I'm not the sort who can look somebody in the eye and tell them if they can't afford another 50 silver, I'm going to let their children get eaten.  If I drive a hard bargain when I think somebody can afford it, it's only so I CAN help somebody else who can't.  And not everybody understands that.
     Of course, there are those who draw a harder line, and the Warrior across from the two men (you remember them, don't you?) turned out to be one of them.  He got up and stalked out of the Puppy, and the men he was talking to left moments later, and I left soon after that.  But it stayed in my head.  They were from a place called Mallowroast, and I remembered the name.
     What I was really thinking was just this: It was time to get started!

     I didn't see Vergil until the next day, when I went to meet him for our weekly lunch at The Melodious Hymn.  It's a full tavern, run by a Troubador named Durg, and when you go to Throal to see the Hall of Heroes, you should stop there.  Of course, by your time, it probably will have changed ownership, but I just can't imagine the Hymn being anything other than a great place for food, drinks, and company! (Though admittedly useless if you're looking for trouble.)
     Now, while I say my story really starts with meeting Vergil, this is probably where most historians would put it.  This was the day my first Company formed.  See, when I went into the Hymn, I made my usual announcement.  It's just a little spiel I do, kind of an introduction, just to let people know who I am.  It might sound strange to you, in what's the future for me, but as I'm writing this, I'm not all that well known yet.  Remember, so far, I've just been honing my skills in the barracks and back alleys!  Besides, people enjoy it.  So I was a little surprised when, as I finished, a tall, dark man stood up in the back, and actually challenged me!
     "You can't be as good as you say," he said, confidantly.  Well, I've mentioned, I think, that I'm frequently underestimated, but in the long run, I think this turned out to be one of the most fortuitous of the occasions on which it happened!  For this tall man, in his padded leather armor still dusty from the road, with his twin swords crossed on his back, turned out to be Jyon! (Again, check in the Walk of Swords; he'll probably be there, too, but if they're paying attention, he'll be in one of the darker sections.  He looks better that way.  He's very good at looming, if you see what I mean.)
     Now, seated next to him was a beautiful, dark haired woman - tall and mysterious looking, and very well matched with Jyon. (She'll be featured in the Walk of Songs, of course, but I'm sure you know Rowan the Troubador!)  Now, if you don't know, I have to tell you about Jyon and Rowan - they came from the same Kaer, friends from childhood, and their friendship grew naturally to love.  They set out together, and I can't imagine them ever apart.
     So his challenge is less surprising, considering he's also a Swordsmaster, and my acceptance of it, of course, is even less so.  But this was to be no simple duel!  He assured everyone in the Hymn that he had never lost a fight, and so sure was he that he staked his service for a year and a day on the outcome!
     Now, for a wager like that, we needed a witness.  Vergil was too much with me, and the beautiful Rowan likewise with Jyon, so we turned to what we thought was a random person from the tavern.  In truth, however, it was yet another thread in the tapestry, for as we sought out a witness, who should turn from his table than Sneaky Baraak himself!  (His portrait should be in the Walk of Shadows.  Yes, it really does exist, and it's very hard to find.  And even after you find it, most of the individual portraits are also hidden, and I'm sure Baraak will be one of them, but take the time to look!  He had a very handsome face, and if his nose looked maybe a little bit like Vergil's, it set better in the orkish features.)
     Well, he agreed to the task, and we went to the barracks to test our skills against each other.  Since a battle between two Swordsmasters is always spectacular, it's not surprising we gathered a small crowd on the way, which quickly overwhelmed the small barracks on our arrival.  Several others who were there sparring joined in the gathering to watch.
     I have to say, I'm very tempted to give you the whole fight, blow by blow, for it was a very dramatic and exhilarating duel!  Perhaps the best I'd had in a year.  Jyon, even at this early point in his career, was no pushover, and he wielded two swords to my one.  He was fast on his feet, too, fairly flying about - sometime in his past, he had learned the Warrior's art of the Airdance, and adapted it well with his Swordsmaster's grace.  And don't forget that he had his armor, where I had just been going to lunch and wore none!
     Yet I will restrain myself, for I'm sure you already know the outcome.  I've said I was underestimated, and I've said it was the beginnings of my own first Company.  He left me a bruise on my shield arm, for my buckler lay on my bed at home with my armor, but after several passes, I slipped through his twin-bladed guard, and ended the battle with a solid blow to his head.
     While the physic tended his bruise, I assured Rowan that even if I made it look easy, he had been a worthy adversary, and one I would be happy to work with.  I was a little worried about her, though.  I knew she wanted to come along - she and Jyon were clearly lifemates, even if they weren't properly married, so she could hardly be left behind.  But just because somebody loves an Adept doesn't necessarily mean they are one, and if I haven't done justice to just how dangerous the world can be...well, it can be very, very dangerous.
     But here again, things worked out perfectly, for she here revealed to me what you already know: She is a Troubador, and like me, Troubadors have a sense for people... and even more, for events.  She could tell at a glance that I was someone to follow, and that where I go, interesting things will happen!
     I'll admit to being a little bit surprised, actually.  I had known I'd attract a Troubador soon.  It gives their tales and songs more weight when they can say they were actually there, so someone like me was bound to sooner or later.  But I hadn't expected it so soon!  It told me right then, more than anything else, that I was right: THIS, today and right now, was my time.
     But remember, up to now, I hadn't told anybody what I had overheard the night before, so I was the only one fully aware of the weight of events drawing us all forward.  This seemed like the time, though, so I informed them all that not only was it time to set out, but that indeed, I even knew what direction we were meant to go!
     Not everyone has my intuition, so it must have seemed a little awkward to them, to be so sure when I had only the name of the town, and no details on what exactly their problem was.  They trusted me, though.  So much so, in fact, that even Baraak (who, remember, we had just met) approached, and after explaining how he `couldn't help overhearing', asked if he might come along as well.
     Well, that just clinched it, I have to say.  It's proverbial among anybody forming a Company: You Have to Have a Thief.  Partly, it's because it's one position you have to be very careful about.  The ways a Thief thinks sometimes makes it hard to fit them well into a team; they tend to be loners, and of course, some of them have funny ways of thinking about other people's things.  The other part is that there's just no substitute.  I mean, a good Company should also have at least one front-line person to take the brunt in a fight, right?  Of course!  But Warriors are one of the most common Disciplines anywhere, so nobody thinks about it much, and of course a Swordsmaster can fill the same position just fine (and with a lot more style!).  Depending on where you are, Sky Raiders can, too, with the added advantage that they're probably a Troll.  Then, you also need some kind of spellcasting support.  Going up against some of the things out there without a spellcaster is just suicide.  But there are all the different kinds - Elementalists are a popular choice, because, well, for one, they're the Warrior of Spellcasters, being significantly more common than the others, and because they're good both in and after a fight.  Illusionists are always fun to have around, but you have to be almost as careful about them as Thieves, and Nethermancers are, well, Nethermancers.  I know their motives are good, but I have to admit, I'm not so comfortable with them.  Wizards work the purist magic, and can be very versatile, though, and of course, I had Vergil, so there you go.  If it had ended up just the two of us, well, that's a pretty solid duo right there, and we'd have been fine for a while.  But there are limits to how far a duo can go, so I was more than happy to expand!
     But you see my point, right?  Adding Jyon and Rowan made us a Company, not a Duo.  Four of us would attract bigger jobs and stronger enemies, and an expectation of going places that nobody would even ask a pair to go...so we needed a Thief.  (Oh, sometimes people try to lump Troubadors in with them, calling them all "rogues", but it doesn't work.  Not for the reasons why You Really Have to Have a Thief.)
     So to have a Thief sidle (yes, he sidled - he also skulked a lot) right up to us and ask to join?  And a Thief I had a good feeling about, on top of that?  (There are some people who say never hire an Ork thief, but that's because people have stupid ideas about orks.  The people who say that are usually stupider than they also usually think trolls are.)  Coincidence was out.  It had to be the work of Thystonius, telling me the time for study was over: It was time to charge!
     Vergil brought me back a little (he's great for that), pointing out that just a few more hours of study were still important.  Specifically, he and Rowan could go to the Spire to look up records on Mallowroast, and I, of course, had to go back to tell the men at the Puppy that we'd heard their cause, and would take it.  Baraak and Jyon came with me, but, well, it was pretty perfunctory, really.  They were, as you can imagine, grateful, and you could see in their eyes they were actually glad the Warrior from the night before had turned them down.  If he hadn't, afterall, they wouldn't have gotten Calypte!  Now, as I had known, they weren't offering very much silver, but they had no problems in giving us part in advance, for two reasons.  For one, of course, I was sure we could do the job, and while I'm not yet as well known as I will be, my confidance carried to them!  Secondly, as I've already mentioned, when I do decide to negotiate, I can take a very hard line.  In this case, it was important both because as a new Company, we needed some start-up supplies, and because they actually had very little information to give us.  All they knew was that things around the town were being found dead, and they were afraid it would be people next...
     It's the sort of thing that might turn out to be nothing, or could be a full-blown Horror!  If we were going into that kind of unknown, I'd need a little enticement for the others.  {Oh, I know, Jyon had his oath, but it wasn't actually blood-sworn, and I'd only really hold him to it to a point.  His own honor would take it further, of course.  It's a Swordsmaster thing, so you might not understand, but we both did.)
     So, armed with as much information as we were going to get, and a little bit of silver, we went back to meet the others - and it was here that Baraak proved me right about him.  See, he had a kernel of True Earth!  Now, many's the sneak who would have kept that sort of thing to themselves, but he took Jyon and me aside and showed it to us, even offering to barter it for some Booster Potions for the team!
     Now, it's a small interlude, but I should mention that while he was doing that, we were some of the first to meet with a group of Ork Scorchers who had gotten into an actual battle with actual Therans.  Really, they just looked battered and tired, so I directed them to a good but not too expensive place to get some rest.  But don't think I missed the significance of it!  At this time, I'd never met a Theran (Actually, at THIS time, while I'm writing this, I still haven't, though someday I hope to).  But everybody knows the terrible things they did before the Scourge.  Now, my parents really weren't the types to hold a grudge, and neither am I.  The Therans who are alive today aren't the same people who did those things, and I'm sure not everybody in Thera thought it was OK then.  I guess what I'm trying to say is that even if some Therans are perfectly nice, the Empire is bad news.  I know they have a big outpost at Vivane, and I admit I've always rooted for the Sky Raiders who fight against them, but things had been pretty stable with them for a while.  If they were starting to pick fights again, well, that was definitely News!

     Anyway, when we got back to the Melodious Hymn, things got even more interesting!  I picked up my armor and shield on the way back, and was soon joined by Jyon and Baraak again.  Vergil and Rowan, however, were quite late (the reasons for which are a story in their own right, and one that still makes me laugh.)
     While we were waiting, though, an elven girl walked through the door.  She looked lost, and Jyon - who can be quite softhearted, despite his hardened appearance - suggested maybe we could give her some direction.  I called her over, and she introduced herself as Liara.  She was more than lost; she was forlorn.  She came, she said, from a place of Horrors beyond imagining.  A place to which she had to return, to stop them from spreading, or coming after her.  She had nothing to offer, and even less real information than the men from Mallowroast, but anybody could tell her problems were serious.  I tried to get her to tell us exactly where she was from, but she was too disoriented, and didn't really know the route that had ultimately brought her to Throal, and then to our table...her only hope was to find a company of Adepts who would be willing to let her travel with them.
     I have to admit, at first I didn't think that was going to be us, though I'd have been happy to recommend some friends who might have been willing.  My people sense told me she was on the level, and that these Horrors she spoke of had to be dealt with, but we were already going in the opposite direction.  She was quite taken with us, though, and I would have been lying if I had said we COULDN'T do it.  She nearly begged to come along, promising to do whatever she could to help.  And then, much to my surprise, Baraak the Thief pledged to protect her!  Thieves aren't known for their soft heartedness, but I think he has a thing for elves.  (He had been with one earlier, when we first saw him at the Hymn, and anybody could tell they were attracted to each other.)  Well, if I was going to put my trust in him, I had to trust his judgment as well as his motivations, so if he said he could keep her safe, I believed him.  I assured her that we would make sure she was fed and sheltered, and even offered her a partial share if she was helpful enough, but cautioned her not to try to help in fights.  I didn't want to be worried about her charging into something over her head!
     The rest of my worries about taking on a non-combatant were allayed moments later, however, as we were then approached by two of the people who had been sparring at the Barracks, and seen us there.  They were Sandra, and The Black T'Skrang. (You can probably find both of them in the Walk of Swords, too, assuming Black doesn't chase off the Portraitmaster.)  I had seen them a little - they had stopped to watch Jyon and me, but had gone back to their own circle while Jyon recovered.  They were both far more blunt about fighting, really just hitting as hard as they could with no thoughts to how it looked...but that has its place, especially on the road.  They're another matched set, really.  Where Jyon and Rowan are like dusk and dawn, Sandra and Black are like day and night; opposites in so many ways, but perfectly balanced, and it's hard to see how you could have one without the other.  I don't think they knew it yet, acually; they had just met each other this day, too.  But my people sense put them right together.
     So when they asked to join up, too, while I normally might have just said no (we were getting to be a pretty big Company!), under the new circumstances a couple more front-line fighters didn't seem like at all a bad idea.  Of course, they were joining in on a job that had already been negotiated, so everybody had to agree to the smaller shares that meant for each of us.   We were all of the same mind, though, even after Vergil and Rowan joined us.  They had found some very intriguing information - I had hoped mostly for maps to show the best way there, which Rowan had, but along with them came the knowledge that Mallowroast had two significant exports: True Earth, and Beastmasters.  For a town that couldn't figure out why animals were dying, that last was definitely ominous!  We sealed it with a toast, and then we set out into the mountains of Throal.

     And so that's how, in one day, we changed from a pair of friends setting off into the unknown, to a full Company of eight(!), with a town to save, and even darker clouds on the horizon.  This is my own accounting of the events, and it's every bit as true as any story should be.

^{*- And sounded almost exactly like Rowan.  "Um...right.  I'll...remember that."  Calypte gets that a lot.}
This message was last edited by the player at 18:20, Thu 29 June 2006.

     Herein begins the tale of Calypte the Swordsmistress, versus Omandras the Night King.  It is a dark tale, and I caution children and the faint of heart to look elsewhere for their news and entertainment.  But it is still a story of valor and adventure, dazzling swordplay and Grand Heroics!  So if you are strong of heart and looking for a saga fraught with terror, then this is indeed the chronicle for you!
     And don't forget to watch for future installments, too, for Omandras was no mere tiger, to be struck down in a single blow!  This is a tale that spanned many adventures!

     It was upon my very first adventure, you see, when I had only just formed my first Company.  (See Calypte's First Company, or A Day From Duo To Octet)  We travelled northwest, towards the town of Mallowroast, on what should have been a routine job for any group of capable Adepts.  Had we known what would transpire before we even reached it, would we have gone?
     Of course we would have!  Not a one of us was like to shy away from danger, and what else were we to do?  Carpentry is fine work, and I've naught but respect for those who do it, but my calling was to the sword, from the day I first drew breath!  (Lest you think I exaggerate, let me tell you that my parents' favorite story about me was of the day I was born, when my father used mother's sword - the very sword that would one day become my own - to sever the cord that bound us.  Where many a child would cry, I laughed to see the blade flash before my eyes.)
     We had travelled for much of the day, but were still less than half the distance to our destination.  Spirits were high, the weather was just nicely cool, and the smell of smoke tinged the air.
     Ah, you are paying attention!  Yes, smoke.  Too much to be a simple campfire, and it came from around a bend in the road.  We cautioned the non combatants to stay back, with the powerful T'Skrang known only as Black to watch over them, and three of us - myself, Jyon, and Sandra - approached.  Baraak Kruul, who you might remember from some of my earlier writings as a sneaky type, went around the side, to explore the perimeter.  The sight that met our eyes was one of carnage and devestation!  Burning wagons, and literal piles of corpses.  More than a score of bodies lay bleeding into the ground, and I could tell at a glance that few of them had been warriors of any sort.  Sandra and Jyon stood watch while I checked out the damage; it was pretty bad.
     It hadn't been a battle.  It had been a slaughter.  A whole caravan, peacefully travelling to Bartertown, with just a pair of hired guards.  The guards had been quickly overwhelmed - you could see where they were, because it was the only sign of real fighting.  They had clearly fought valiantly, but been overwhelmed by sheer numbers.  One of them was among the bodies; the other one wasn't.  The rest of the people had just been forced into clusters and killed.  The people doing it tried to make it look like Scorchers, but they didn't know much about Scorchers, if you ask me.  They used longswords, and very professional cuts and thrusts.  Soldiers, or maybe mercenaries who used to be soldiers.  A lot of fires, too.  If you're really paying attention, the smoke probably told you that already!  But these weren't the kinds of fires a Scorcher would set.  They'd burned hot and fast, and if you looked carefully, you could see their starting points had all come from the same direction.  Like an Elementalist throwing Flame Strikes around in a circle.
     This probably sounds like I'm a pretty good tracker, and I'm afraid that's just not true.  I know a thing or two about battle, is all, and Vergil taught me the magic half of it.  It was Baraak who found the tracks leading away.  Now, it was clear to anybody something terrible had happened here.  I'm not ashamed to admit I couldn't tell just from what was left exactly what it was, but it was trouble for sure, and trouble for everybody.  We were already on a job, of course - we needed to get to Mallowroast, to solve their problem too.  This was too far away likely have any connection, but some things you just don't ignore.  I wanted to go straight after whoever did this, and, one way or another, teach them not to do it again.
     Now, Sandra's a more practical type.  I'll tell you true, I need that sometimes.  I've been known to get a little caught up in what's right, and forget sometimes what's most sensible.  Sometimes sensible is just wrong, honestly, but usually you can have both.  Vergil's always been an anchor for me, too, but he's a Wizard; he has different concerns than many. Sandra brought up the question of loot.  Not here; anybody thinking of looting here would be near as bad as the ones who did it, and foolish on top of it, because anything here had already been taken or burned.  She just wanted to be sure that after we caught up to the villains, looting them would be OK.
     Really, it's pretty standard adventuring practice.  Out here in the wild, there's not much law but what you bring with you.  So it's important to stay civilized.  Maybe even more than it is in a city.  But you've also got to be practical, and an honorably defeated foe, even if they're still alive, expects to lose their stuff.  If they're dead, they don't need it; if they're alive, then it's kind of nice of you to leave them that much, if you see what I mean.  There are some exceptions.  I'm a Swordsmistress.  If I die to anybody honorable, I expect them to leave me my sword.  She's part of me.  It'd be like cutting off your enemy's arm and taking it with you.  If they do take her, they'd better treat her honorably, and not just pawn her off at the next village for a couple silvers, or I'm coming back for them.  I'd have thought magicians would feel that way about their grimoires, but Vergil tells me no, there's kind of a professional courtesy that says you share your magic under certain circumstances, and dying is one of them.
     Anyway, it was a good question, but the answer was yes.  Liara wanted to stay and bury the dead.  At least, that's what she said, but we were soon to learn a good deal about our poor little Liara!  I cautioned her that it wasn't safe; the smoke and blood that led us here would lead others, and they might not be human.  As if in answer, it was then we heard the first howls of the wolves.
     Let me tell you, I like wolves.  They're beautiful animals, and what's more, they think a lot like Swordsmasters.  They chose their best by tourney, and they understand the idea of a single challenge.  But I don't care to be anybody's dinner, and that's something every Discipline can agree on!  It was just in time we started, too, for as we had been preoccupied with the carnage, clouds had gradually rolled in to cover the sky, and this is when the downpour broke out.
     Many people find rain somehow discouraging.  I don't pretend to understand it.  It can be a little uncomfortable, but to me, it's always been a reminder that we're living under open sky!  I love any kind of weather, because it means you have weather.  Maybe by the time you're reading this, this probably isn't such a big deal, but in my time, the times of Emergence and Replanting, well, trust me.  It's a big deal.  Besides, rain in particular is bracing, and kind of fun.  It always makes me feel like dancing!
     Even so, I have to admit, it's not great when you're trying to follow tracks.  Fortunately, hiding their tracks seemed to have been the last thing on their mind.  Baraak went ahead a bit, as a foreward scout, while the rest of us followed, but anybody could see the crushed leaves and broken branches they had left behind.
     I think that may have been when I first began to suspect the true nature of the ones we followed.  These were not the tracks of people who cared about the land they walked on!
     Everybody handled the rain a little differently.  It was hardest on Vergil, I think.  Dwarves have a whole different center of balance, you see, lower down than anybody else's.  They hit the ground harder than you'd expect.  So as the rain softened the dirt into mud, his feet sank lower and he had to pull out at every step.  Vergil's a trooper, though, and he didn't say a word of complaint - just winked at me every time I looked back.  I'm not sure Baraak cared.  Sandra looked kind of annoyed, but just like it was something else to put up with to get the job done.  Black definitely didn't care.  Jyon seemed to be in a pretty good mood, and Rowan was definitely enjoying the dramatic potential of it!  Liara, now, she looked mad, which I thought was kind of funny - farmers usually like rain, because it's good for the crops, right?
     But however we felt and whatever we were thinking, we all kept going, until suddenly Baraak was standing in front of us.  He was like a ghost out of the rain; one minute we followed an empty path, and the next, we almost walked into each other as he stood in front of us.  He had found them.  Seven of them, well armed and armored, definitely either soldiers or mercenaries.  They had five prisoners, watched by two guards.  He had even identified their leader, and their mage!  In truth, while Baraak's a great scout, their mage wasn't very subtle about it.  He was skinnier than anybody, and wore robes covered in runes, so he wasn't hard to spot even in the rain.  One of the classic rules of a battle like this is to take out the mage as fast as possible.  Spellcasters of any type can wreak havoc if you leave them alone, but they're usually pretty easy to knock out fast if you focus on it.  (There are exceptions to that rule, though, so don't rely on it too heavily!)  What's more, he had noticed one of the prisoners was probably the missing guard - she was stronger than the others, and didn't have the frightened look of the other four.  He said she had a hardened look in her eyes, and watched her captors with a look that said, Just give me a chance!  Well, that, we could do!
     I don't call Baraak the Sneakiest Sneak in all of Throal for nothing.  We knew he could get back around, and even right up to the prisoners, without their guards spotting him.  Black wanted him to cut them free and then try to hit the mage all before the rest of us went in, but I pointed out that even though the guards wouldn't see Baraak, this was trusting his life to the unknown question of how good their prisoners were at holding still!  Not only is Baraak a companion, but I like him, too, and as far as I was concerned, he'd proven himself as trustworthy as any sneak can be - and if you think I'm damning him with faint praise, then you don't know enough about Baraak Kruul!  Black seems to have some idea how to make plans, but a real leader can't overlook that kind of detail.
     I took Black's plan - because it was a good one - and patched its single flaw: I would go first, even as Baraak cut the prisoners' bonds, and issue a challenge to their leader!  If he really took it, then great - I could take him down, and all we'd have to do is accept their surrender!  More likely, though, I'd just hold their attention long enough to make Black's idea work...something I'm as well suited to as Baraak is to his own part.
     Now, some people might say, "What?  You can't be serious!  Calypte the Swordsmistress, being used as mere bait!?"   But of course, they would be making a crucial mistake.  Bait is helpless.  I knew it was our enemies who needed to be afraid!
     And then Liara spoke up.  Without so much as batting an eye, she said she could cast a spell to protect some of us, for a little while - a spell that would make us seem to be several feet away from where we truly were.  Now, some of you might be thinking Liara looks a lot like the name of the lost little farmgirl who needed help, and I assure you, I am talking about the same Liara.
     It's always in the name.  I should have spotted it right away.  Liara.  A Liar.  She probably thought that was awfully clever.  All the little inconsistancies about her suddenly made a lot more sense.  Some people might feel stupid, to admit they hadn't known sooner, but I'm an honest person, and honest people don't expect to be lied to.  You could say that makes me vulnerable, but I wouldn't want to live any other way.
     And anybody who wants to lie to me better be careful when I find out.  Liara, for example, made very sure I found out when there were more important things to deal with - I could hardly call her out twenty feet from encamped enemies!  Besides...her spell was perfect.  There was a good chance they'd all just attack when I issued my challenge.  Bandits usually think like wolves - if the leader doesn't take a challenge like that, they look weak, and once they look weak, their days are numbered.  But I didn't think these were bandits.  Too professional.  Mercenaries are more practical, and soldiers don't care how they look.  It would still be a great distraction for Baraak, but if I wasn't exactly where I seemed to be...
     Wow!  It had great potential for duelling, too!  Oh, I wouldn't use it in a formal duel - those have rules, and one of them is almost always, no outside help.  This would definitely count, sure as getting an Elementalist to give you Fireblade, or having a friend run up and hit them in the back of the head.  But in a real combat duel like this, convention says that doesn't start until after the challenge is issued and accepted.  Anything from beforehand goes.  There's no way to tell if somebody has, say, a magic sword, or is just better, the way you usually can in a formal duel, and in real combat, you don't expect someone to give up those advantages anyway.  And think how well you could humiliate someone when they think they've hit you, and they haven't?
     So, keeping our attention on the goal - freeing those prisoners! - Baraak went ahead, and soon after, Liara cast her spell.  It was interesting to see myself like other people do, and all kinds of uses for the spell came to mind.  It wasn't at all like looking in a mirror.  In a weird kind of away, it was the opposite of looking into a mirror.
     Anyway, I stepped into the clearing, and everything was exactly as Baraak had described it.  I boldly challenged the leader to single combat, but the coward's mage stepped in front of him, and he told his men to `get me'.  Ha!  I'd have liked to see them try, but that's when the fun started!
     Baraak came from nowhere and slashed at the mage.  I was out from the circle of soldiers in a flash, out and past the leader, and backed him up with my own cut to the elementalist.  He cried out, and so fast was my sword, his robe nearly caught on fire from its passage!  Then Sandra and Black burst from the trees.  Black cut their second in command down - and nearly in half - with a single hard chop, while Sandra engaged another with deadly professionalism.
     Of course, I was squared with their leader, but a good swordsmistress always knows what's happening around her.  If a friend needs help, you have to be there, and if an enemy gets behind you, you'd better know about it!  The time Vergil and I had spent practicing paid off with interest.  This foe was deadlier by far, but I knew how to keep my head in the chaos.  It's easy, for the unpracticed, to lose track of who's on which side.  A pure duellist, who's never been in a brawl, might be a wizard one-on-one, but set that same duellist five-on-five, and they're as much menace to their allies as their opponents!  Many aspiring Swordsmasters make that mistake, but I hadn't, and easily kept track of who was who.
     Everything was going perfectly according to our plan, when disaster struck!  Black was pressing another back; Sandra's was nearly donefor.  Baraak kept the mage busy, and the hostage he had rescued, wielding Liara's sword, joined him.  Against the pair, the hapless spellcaster fell quickly.  Jyon and Rowan, perfectly coordinated to each other, held off the other three, and even as I watched, Jyon cut one down.  A flash of blade here, a devastating smile there - the pair was every bit as deadly as you could hope for in your companions!
     But the leader, seeing how easily his men were cut down, knowing he was outmatched against a great Swordsmistress, panicked!  Swinging wildly, he missed... and missing so badly the image from Liara's spell, he hit me square in the side.  He couldn't have hit me harder if he'd known what he was doing, and he actually knocked me flat on the ground!
     Well, not flat.  I know how to fall.  I was back on my feet in a flash!  It was enough to worry some of the others, though.  I lunged, thrusing my blade neatly into his chest; he sagged, but didn't fall, for he was braced also by Baraak's knife, and Black's sword.
     Jyon's final opponent fell to his dazzling display, and the last remaining soldiers - those fighting Rowan and Sandra - surrendered.
     And then I faced my first crisis in leadership.  Actually, three of them, all at once.  It was bound to happen sooner or later.  Even teams that are put together carefully, over a longer period of time, have them.  For a company that came together in a day, almost by chance, I'm surprised it took so long!  We knew very little about each other, and some less than others.
     Take Black, for example.  You could call him taciturn, if you wanted to give him an undeserved reputation for talkativeness.  He hadn't said anything about himself, but when you know how to read the clues, you can put a little bit together anyway.  I'd been pretty sure he was from Ustrect for a while now.  Trolls have some pretty distinctive mannerisms, and adoptive Trolls take them to the extreme.  Like Black, who definitely hadn't been raised in any T'Skrang village this side of Death's Sea.
     So it shouldn't have surprised us when he stepped up and executed one of the prisoners.  The Sky Raiders of Ustrect don't take prisoners, and with good reasons.  For one, that's some of the harshest land in Barsaive - all on its own, just for being what it is, the mountains make for nearly as hard a place to live as some of the most Horror ravaged areas yet mapped.  So keeping prisoners alive could mean their own children starve, and that's not a trade I think anybody would make.  And of course, the Theran ships they raid are usually doing just what these ones were up to: taking slaves.  Slavery is a terrible thing, and sometimes the line between a prisoner and a slave can be pretty thin.  The Trolls don't take those kinds of chances with their kat'ral, the Honor of the Clan.
     But here, just a half day out from Throal, with the kind of information he could have given to the Kingdom, it was inexcusable.  Sandra and Liara saw it coming from the moment his sword cleared its sheath, and both tried to get theirs in his path in time, but he caught everybody off guard.  They'd surrendered.  The fighting was supposed to be over.
     That was crisis number one.  Number two was, of course, our Farmgirl turned Illusionist.  I've said before, Illusionists are the Sneaks of the spellcasters, and you have to be very careful trying to fit them into a team.  Not that they aren't great to have around, and Swordsmasters usually get along with them better than almost anybody else, but if she wanted anything like that, she had gone about it all the wrong way.  You don't lie to your teammates.  Not like that.  Its in their heads.  I understand that.  I don't expect Baraak to tell me everything he's thinking, but he'd already proven he'd tell me what I need to know.  But Liara had lied to us from the minute she walked into the Hymn, and even when she was called on it, all she said was, Your senses lied, not me.
     Which, if you ask me, was just ridiculous.  But even while Black was preparing himself to kill one of our two prisoners, Liara was talking to the other...in a language I, for one, had never heard before.  A language she seemed pretty sure he'd understand.  The same language, in fact, that the other one was using to tell him not to talk to us.  Theran.  And after a moment, she cut his bonds, and told him to go back to Throal and tell some Master Gendal everything you just told me.  Information she didn't deign to share with the rest of us, I might add.
     And so that was number two.  But just then, number three had all my attention, because Vergil still hadn't come out of the trees.  The battle was over, and Vergil was nowhere to be found.  His footprints were there, right where they should have been, but they were empty.  Two deep bootprints in the mud, and not a one coming any further.
     I looked.  Baraak looked.  One of the women we'd rescued - the one he'd marked as the second guard - came over, introduced herself as Ronia, and told me she knew how to do some real tracking.  She offered to check the area over physically, which was very nice of her, but I didn't think she'd find anything.  Like I said, I'm no great tracker, but Vergil isn't a sneak at all, and with as clear a place to start looking as we had, I was pretty sure one of us would've seen something if he'd gone somewhere else by any normal means.
     That left magical, and that left Liara.  If she could help find Vergil, I didn't care who she was.  She could've been the Queen of the Blood Elves, and I would've asked her to go look.  She pointed out what was already going through my head: Illusionists hide things, they don't find them.  But she was all we'd got, and I asked her to try anyway.
     See, Vergil and I have a friendship that goes way past distance.  When I thought about him, for just a minute, I could feel him, and he felt very cold, and very, very far away...but also, still alive!  There wasn't any doubt in my mind.  It wasn't wishful thinking, because I wouldn't wish anybody in that kind of place.  When Liara finally went to try to look, she fell to her knees, saying that All is Night...
     Which, unfortunately, fit what I had felt, too.  I felt bad for having to ask her to open herself up to something like that, but I had to know for sure, and if it might help get Vergil free again, we could handle a little temporary discomfort!

     And that's when Omandras, the Night King appeared!  Standing in the middle of the clearing, without so much as a whoosh of air - one minute it was empty, and the next, a ten foot tall creature, shaped like an Obsidiman!  He was clearly no true Obsidiman, though - his eyes gleamed with malice, and he radiated hatred like no natural creature ever could.  Turn back from the road you travel and leave the set path, he threatened!
     Ha!  Omandras may have been old, and may have been powerful, but you'd go a long way to say he was very bright.  As if threatening us and kidnapping our friend was any way to divert us from our goals!  All it did for me, of course, was to confirm what I'd known since I was a child; as the Troubadours say, Destiny Awaits!
     Of course it occurred to me that he could be trying to manipulate us the opposite way, and that's always a chance you take, but if so, he was still wasting his effort.  I go where I choose, and I've been on the path I walked that day from the very beginning.  And yes, I even wondered if it might have been an illusion cast by our own Liara, but unless she was truly in the service of a Horror, she couldn't have taken Vergil as he had been.  Of course, that was still a possibility, after all the lies she'd told.
     We faced him down - Black, Ronia, Sandra, and I, positioned in a circle about him, and not a one of us blinked while he stood there.  He told us he was older than Thera, and gave us the same, tired line about the futility of resistance.  Naturally, I demanded Vergil back; of course he wouldn't do it, but my position was clear.  Finally, he left us with this warning: Turn back, and live. Or continue and suffer the consequences.
     As if such a life would even be worth living?  Of course we would continue, but he would learn that there were consequences awaiting him, as well!

     So there you have it: The first we saw of Omandras.  A brief encounter, plopped right into the middle of our other problems, but as you can imagine, it was quite the attention getter!  But you can't lose focus just because a giant Obsidiman appears out of nowhere and starts giving you dire warnings.  I still had two problems to deal with: Liara, and Black.
     Black's choice, as I've said, made some sense from his perspective.  I wasn't exactly mad at him for killing the Theran.  Really, what made me mad was that he did it even when Sandra and Liara both tried to block him.  He could have stopped then.  If a Company is going to function, everybody needs to work well together, and that means caring about each other.  I wouldn't ask a Troll to care about any Theran, but he needed to care about us.  I could tell at a glance that Sandra and Liara were both going to have a hard time working with him after that.  Jyon and Rowan looked unhappy with it, too, and I was definitely worried about fitting him in to a group dynamic.  Black's great in a fight, but he's not such a good listener.
     It wasn't a problem that could be left to fester.  I've seen groups that knew each other a lot better than we did fall apart after something like that.  If Black was going to stay with us, he had to understand he wasn't working alone anymore... and the others had to be willing to keep him.  That meant not just smoothing over this particular incident, but getting it into the T'skrang's head that he needed to work on that.
     If that wasn't going to happen, then frankly, I was ready to let him walk.  It's something any good leader has to understand, see.  You don't own your team: They're there because they choose to be.  And it's a choice they make every day.  And as a member of the team, it's a choice you make every day, too.  It's why only the best teams bond as a Group.  If somebody wants to leave, all you can do is let them go; and if somebody has to leave, you'd better be ready for that, too.
     Which is where Liara interrupted.  If Thera was making moves again, she said, we couldn't afford to let Black go.  And here's where she confirmed a new tidbit about herself: Not only was she not from a farm, she was from Thera herself.  I was a little surprised to realize that I really wasn't surprised - not only did she know the language, but she'd said she was from way, way south, even past Vivane...and there's not much that way, unless, of course, you count the Empire.  Oh, I know how mages can learn languages just by hearing a word or two, but I'll tell you, I can count the people I've heard use a word or two of Theran on one hand.  One of Harold Half-Hand's hands, in fact, and they were all right there, in that clearing.
     Well, you can see, our little farmgirl was growing up fast, but she was still dead wrong.  When things are tough, that's when you can least afford that kind of strife in your party.  Would Barsaive need every blade it could get to fight against mighty Thera?  Absolutely!  But any individual team has to be able to work together, and that takes trust, respect, and, frankly, practice.
     A lot of people don't think about how hard it is to work with another person.  It's not a big deal when your life isn't on the line, but when you're in the middle of a real battle, you need to know not just that you can count on somebody, but HOW.  What will they do?  Where will they be?  You have to know their strengths, their limits, and above all, their personality.  And by the time things really get tough, that had all better be as instinctive as moving your own arm.
     Obviously, it doesn't happen overnight, but everyone has to be willing to try.  Baraak's a sneak, but he didn't pretend otherwise.  Sandra seemed pretty honest - she wanted to get the job done, and that's it.  Jyon and Rowan had been supportive from the beginning, and already had the advantage of knowing each other.  Of course, Vergil and I went way back, but Omandras had sort of broken that up, at least in the short term.  But Black and Liara I wasn't sure about.  They'd be great if I could get them to understand the team concept, but if they couldn't, that was trouble for everybody!
     But I didn't get into this line of work because I don't like taking risks!  So I didn't just let go of the problem; I made it clear Black could leave if he didn't want to be part of a team, and I said we were going to bury the Theran he'd killed.  He shouldn't have died like he did, and everybody but Black knew it; if the rest of us were going to keep working with him after that, there had to be some kind of closure.  I also hoped Black would understand that he had bought the Theran this honor.  For somebody raised by Trolls, that might mean more than anything else I could say.  It was hard to tell, with Black, though - he was harder to read than an Obsidiman poker player.

     Now, some of you might have forgotten that a Theran had just been set free, or that we had almost a half dozen women who had just been prisoners, huddled cold in the rain, only one of whom knew how to handle herself in the wilds.  But I can assure you, I hadn't!  I've been told many times I should learn real juggling, and I probably ought to - a sword and two knives flashing in the air, perhaps a hawk hatchet for a little added sparkle?  Then a dagger flashes out at an enemey!  Catch the sword to parry a blow, then toss it back in the air and use the hatchet to return my own!
     By the time you're reading this, maybe I have.  Perhaps you've heard of some of the duels I used the technique in.  Now you can say you know when I first had the idea, for it was that very day, as I juggled so many things in a metaphorical sense.  Now that I was reasonably sure Sandra and Black weren't going to kill each other, and that if anybody killed Liara it would be for good cause, I took Jyon and Rowan aside.  Somebody had to take the women back home, and somebody had to track that Theran and make sure he went where he was supposed to!  In the short time we'd been together, I'd come to truly love and respect the pair, and I hated to ask them to take a different path...but I had to send someone I could trust absolutely.  Rowan agreed to take charge of the women, and Jyon to track the Theran, if it should prove he had gone off on a different path.  Nobody had taken his armor, so he was still walking heavy, and in the mud, wouldn't be too hard to track; his sword, of course, we had claimed, so he would also be easy enough to recapture if necessary.  Rowan also agreed to look up some other information, like finding any old legends about Omandras, for me, and we'd meet back up at The Melodious Hymn, where we had first met.
     Now, Jyon, as you might recall, was already kind of sworn to me, though in some ways what I was asking of them released him from that, and we both understood the necessity.  But I didn't want to lose touch with these two!  Besides - I'm a Heroine, and was then at the very beginning of my career!  If there's one thing I needed, it was a Troubadour... and if there's anything a Troubadour really needs, it's a Hero.  So Rowan and I took a solemn oath to help each other out.  I spoke it as Morgant had taught me:
                                     As the sun lights the daytime sky, so do my acts light my life.
                                        All shall see that I give no harm to Rowan.  I will make no
                                        move to give her harm, nor those of her blood, nor give her cause
                                        to wish mine.  I shall not allow harm to befall her, nor those of
                                        her blood.
                                     As the stars light the night sky, and the Crystals our caves,
                                        my purpose shall stand pure.  All will see my promise held.
     I know, blood and held don't exactly rhyme, but there are other kinds of poetry, and with your very life singing between two people...it makes for beauty enough to sate any artist.
     Rowan's wording was a little different, of course, but the Peace Oath is known throughout Barsaive, and one of the most commonly sworn, whatever form it took.  That was my first.  There are some people who say any kind of blood magic is dangerous, but I don't see anything wrong that binds our lives more closely together - that's strength against the Horrors, and blood is the power of life, not death.

     So Jyon and Rowan took their leave, but only for the time, and for very good reasons.  I sent Baraak to scout around a little bit, and the newly rescued Ronia took the opportunity for her freedom, gave us her thanks, and went her own way.  Sandra and I dug in tuns to bury the one Theran killed out of turn, and Black set himself to gathering some rocks to put over it when we were done.  I think it helped a little; the Theran deserved it, but the real reason was unity, afterwards, Liara spoke a little for him, since, well, she knew the Theran customs.  Of course, she said something about how he didn't need a full honor guard because he had dishonored himself by getting involved in slavery, and I doubt Thera has changed that much.  It was a good reminder to keep an eye on her still - if she was trying to make us think Thera wasn't so bad, well, she'd have to try a lot harder than that!  I can't believe everybody living in Thera is a bad person.  I was even willing to reserve judgment about Liara, because lying like she did is something Illusionists feel they have to do, and you have to respect that.  But the Theran Empire wasn't any kind of good news.

     And there you have it.  Our first day together.  Oh, there was some more walking in the rain, and eventually Baraak found a small cave for us, and we took to rest, but that's not what the day was.  This would forever be, to me, the day Vergil was stolen.  It held our first meeting of Omandras, our first battle against Therans, our first rescue, and we learned a little about each other.  Not nearly enough, but a little.  We went from eight to five, and lost most of our magical strength in Vergil, but if we could only learn to work together, still had the makings for a very effective team.  And we hadn't even reached Mallowroast yet!
     This was a true story, and one I shall tell the same in fifty years as I have told it today.

19 Veltom, 1451 TH

We have arrived in Mallowroast after some small amount of excitement en route.  Unfortunately I have been forced to 'blow my cover' as an adept, in no small part because of the group of adepts I have chosen to travel with.  It is ... frustrating ... dealing with these people.  I can only hope that the efforts I put into them is worth it; if not, Master Gendel's desires will be short-lived at best.

I spoke with Master Gendel on the seventeenth of Veltom, after writing my previous journal entry, and he requested that I seek out a dragon, of all things, to aide Throal in her struggle against my homeland of Thera.  Was it not beneficial to me I would have departed immediately at the foolish suggestion; unfortunately, it is beneficial to me.  Who but a dragon could destroy my grandfather?  I could not trust it to the pitiful magicians here in Barsaive certainly; they stand little chance against even the weakest Theran adepts, let alone the Heavenherds.

I chose to portray myself as a farmer to the group of adepts I met, and, though one suspected my falsehood, the apparent leader of the band, a Swordmaster Named Calypte, accepted me, though she was convinced only when I spoke of 'terrible horrors' to the south.  Foolish girl, I suspect she actually thinks herself capable of defeating something more dangerous than an untrained monkey in battle.  She is wrong.  She is all flash and no substance so far as I can tell.

No, but there are two to be wary of: Baraak who, I have learned, is a Thief and Korentin Black, a t'skrang Sky Raider with some skill as a bladesman.  The former is perceptive and swift-witted.  The latter speaks only rarely, though he has a keen mind and is a danger -- as much to himself as others.  He has murdered a Theran soldier in cold blood, a member of House Zanjan.  The pathetic fools are out here in Barsaive to stir up trouble, no doubt in the hopes that a civil war will spark as it did before the Scourge, thus paving the way for Thera's return.

I have little doubt they will succeed -- assuming they send more competent men than those we ambushed yesterday.  Admittedly, they injured both Calypte and another of our party, Sandra -- a Warrior, I believe -- severely.  But they were easily dispatched through the judicious use of my magic and blades wielded by the others.

I gained access to the dead Elementalist's grimoire and a rune-covered robe, but both are far beyond my abilities at present.  I suspect he was several Circles in advance of my own, and I can only speculate on what the spells may have been, and guess at the powers of the robe.  I do suspect, however, that the robe has some properties to lessen or eliminate the effects of magic cast upon the wearer; when I cast Light upon him, the effect glimmered and died almost immediately, causing a rune to vanish as well.  That will come in useful if I can figure out how to weave its Pattern into my own.

After defeating the Therans we encountered an obsidiman who called himself 'The Night King.'  I... will not be inspecting astral space any time soon as a result.  He claims to have kidnapped a dwarf we were traveling with -- a particularly quiet member of the race who seems to have been an especially close friend to Calypte -- but I do not know how that is possible.  So far as my little working knowledge of magic works, it shouldn't be possible.  But I am still young yet.  I am quite certain my grandfather has perfected such things.

Something to remember.

After a night spent in a cavern, we have arrived in Mallowroast; Calypte has been watching over me for some time, though I suspect she doesn't realize the difference between mystical sigils and Theran script; it is a humorous thought.  I will write again when I have been given time; for now I must study.

     I know it would surprise many of my readers, but some days of my life have passed quite quietly, with little to chronicle.  Others might seem as though they had, but in truth, held great importance.  One such was the single day we spent at the ill-fated town of Mallowroast, which we had been hired - too late - to save from an unknown menace.

     For the librarian who may wish to catalogue my memoires in order, then, allow me to set the stage.  This parchment continues my first venture, as began at the Melodious Hymn in Bartertown, with my meeting of such fascinating people as Baraak Kruul, Jyon Twinblade, and the mysterious na'a'g'rul T'skrang called Black.  It picks up after our encounter with the Therans!, wherein we had emerged victorious and released fully a half dozen captured slaves - including our own Ronia the Scout!

     The remainder of that day indeed was one of little excitement, although certainly there had already been excitement enough!  (See Calypte the Swordsmistress vs Omandras the Nightking I, for the thrilling details!)  Much of the adventuring life is spent in walking, and sometimes that walking is through mud.  It would be easy to read of my life and think it all to be glittering swordplay and arcing sprays of blood, but remember, I am in truth a real person, little different from you.  If you should be among the few inclined and empowered to follow in my footsteps, perhaps the second most important recommendation I can make - after a fine blade, of course - might well be a sturdy, comfortable pair of simple boots!
     It doesn't sound very glamorous, I know, but if you want to look glamorous when you get where you're going... you have to think about these kinds of gritty details.
     So, we walked, and in all fairness to Liara the Liar, she made a point of being very helpful in our journey.  She saved us a good hour at one point alone, where the road had completely washed out into a pit of mud, and she was able to use her Illusionist's powers over rope to get one across and tied to a treestump on the other side.  Eventually, we found a small, unoccupied cave, and made camp.
     Everybody was exhausted, and I was still carrying a heavy wound from that lucky shot by the Theran leader.  Ronia had gone her own way, and I had sent Jyon and Rowan back to escort the prisoners, but there were still five of us.  Baraak, Black, Sandra, Liara, and me.  Normally, that's enough to set a pretty solid watch schedule.  You can even get by with four, if you have to.  A team with only three people, though, had best plan on a few extra hours resting each day... and a pair is probably better off not setting a watch at all, and give their attention to hiding themselves better.
     To all practical purposes, we were down to three.  Sandra was also still hurt badly, and walking an uphill mountain road in sometimes hip-deep mud hadn't helped either of us.  Neither of us was going to be any good for the evening watch, or to wake up in the middle.  We might have been OK by morning, when our bodies had some time to heal, but if I'd been looking at us from the outside, I wouldn't have planned for that either.
     In fact, if it I hadn't been a little delerious at that point, I'd have planned just what I said: Take an extra couple of hours in the morning.  I'd have put Black on first watch, because he's reliable, and wouldn't fall asleep even if he was tired; had him wake Liara a little before midnight, because elves have the best night eyes, and Illusionists doubly so.  They could have stood watch together for a few extra hours; then Black would go to sleep, and get Baraak up.  Ork thieves are also perfect for the night watch, so the two of them would be great; after a while, Liara could have gone to sleep, leaving Baraak to finish out the early morning.  By then everybody'd have had some rest, and would have woken best if it had proven necessary, see?  You get two watchers through the darkest part of the night, when somebody's most likely to nod off, and make do with one at the beginnings and ends, when the sleepers will wake easiest and the watchers are most reliable.  Then you go a little later so Black and Liara can both catch up; if Sandra and I were OK when we woke up, maybe Baraak could even get a half hour nap or so before moving out.
     But it wasn't me.  I have to admit to kind of collapsing at that point.  Black helped, offering Sandra and me his cloak.  He has the kind of cloak they wear in the mountains, so it's really warm, and softer than I bet he'd like people to think.  When I woke up in the morning - feeling very much better, I might add, between Black's cloak and one of Baraak's booster potions - Black was still awake, standing right where he'd been.  Somebody had built a small fire in the cave, and I think Baraak and Liara had taken more reasonable turns at watch...but it looked like Black had stayed up all night.
     It's not that it wasn't very sweet of him, but it was going to cost us.  He'd be walking slower, and thinking slower, all day.  At least once Sandra and I were up, he took our spot and fell asleep.  Don't tell him I said so - I've crossed blades with Black (see below!), and we'd have to do it again if he heard this - but he's cute when he's asleep.  Like a scaly teddy bear, with little twitches and growls.  I'll tell you, some Therans were faring very badly in his dreamland!
     Anyway, I went out to find some food.  The mountains of Throal are pretty rich in wildlife, and it didn't take me long to find a nest of rabbits out feeding after the previous day's rain.  I don't feel bad about hunting, mind you.  Rabbits have as much right to live as anybody, but so do we, and everybody has to eat!  (Of course I've read the famous scroll in the Spire of Knowledge, by that Nethermancer who said Horrors are just hunting us like we, or any predator, hunt other animals, and we shouldn't blame them.  I don't pretend to understand how Nethermancers think, but I wait until my rabbits are dead before I skin them.  And even if it is true, I don't ask my prey not to defend itself, so I don't see why that would mean we shouldn't fight the Horrors with everything we have.)  I stopped when I had enough for everyone, of course - which was also after Blackstar the Martyr, which you can probably find somewhere, maybe in a bound edition of Calypte's Tales for Children.
     So everybody ate, and we gave Black some time to sleep.  It was a little bit of a later start than I liked; we weren't going to get to Mallowroast until late, maybe not even until the next day.  But it was a beautiful day, and hard to be upset, and after the day before with all the rain and the drama and the Therans, I think we all wanted to relax a little bit.  We even talked a little as we walked, and I did my Karma Ritual.  (Every kind of Adept has their own, of course, and every Adept does it their own way.  But as one of the most active of the Disciplines, I think Swordmaster's have a little bit of an advantage being able to do ours on the road.)
     Which is how things stood when the small black raven swooped down and started pecking at us!  If it had been a magpie, I'd have thought it just liked my tassles, but it was pure black, and it went for Liara, too.  And then it flew off, squaking and cawing.  It was Sandra who recognized it.  How anybody can recognize one black bird from any other I don't know, but she remembered one being around Ronia, from the day before.  Well, it sure looked like somebody was in trouble, anyway, and I'm not one to ignore someone in need!
     So we all turned off the road, and followed the raven.  As we went, we became more and more sure that's what it wanted, as it seemed to be stopping to make sure we could keep up, and then taking off again when we got closer.  Ravens are pretty smart birds!  And sure enough, pretty soon we found Ronia, up on a ledge on a cliffside, surrounded by three cave trolls!
     Cave Trolls have a bad reputation, and most of it's deserved, but not all of it.  They're not animals.  They're Trolls, just like the Sky Raider Clans.  Well, not just like, I do think they're generally simpler, but they're still people.  They are savages, though, and they do eat other Name-Givers, and that's what they had in mind for Ronia.  Sandra turned all wooden, which I've always thought was a great Talent.  It wouldn't be for me, of course, but it's neat to watch.  We went in, and I made sure to call their attention away from Ronia, and towards us!
     Of course, a wild melee ensued, with Ronia dropping from her ledge and joining in.  Cave Trolls are strong, but not very fast and not too bright.  I'll say none of them landed a single blow against me, but not everyone did so well.  Sandra, who fights in the Warriors' Way, took several hits, and I saw Korentin fly several feet from one heavy shot from the side.  But it was right after that that he and I finished off the last one together.  Liara found a higher spot to look around, and warned us there were four more coming, so we set off to get back on track.  We'd come to rescue Ronia, afterall, not to slaughter their whole tribe!
     I was getting worried about Sandra, so I talked to Baraak about giving her another of the booster potions he'd picked up before we left Bartertown.  He passed one on to her, and I think that helped a lot, but she still looked pretty bruised.  One of the rules of duelling - one that comes to mind a lot watching Black fight - is that before you hit hard, you have to hit at all.  Swordmasters play on that a lot, and we learn how to stop our enemies from making that first crucial step.  Warriors are different; they can take hits like nobody, especially when they use Talents like that Wood Skin one, and they learn to wear armor without letting it slow them down so they can take even more...but they take them, all the same, and that brings a lot of them down in the lower Circles.

     Sure enough, it was pretty late when we finally made it to Mallowroast, but considering how many diversions we'd had, I think we made pretty good time.  We were met by a smith named Malcolm, and a group of concerned citizens, but once they heard who we were, they welcomed us in.  Everything seemed normal, but as we all know, seemings can be very deceiving!
     We were taken to the inn, and offered food and a chance to rest.  Some of us went to the rooms offered to clean up, while some of us stayed downstairs to get some food.  I was one of the ones who went upstairs, to the room I'd be sharing with Liara and Ronia, so I missed what happened in the common room.  But when we had just started settling in, one of the serving girls knocked at the door, to tell us the others had left, following somebody's dog.
     OK, so the raven thing had worked out pretty well, but you have to admit, that sounded strange.  None of us HAD a dog.  So I figured there had to have been something about it to get them to follow.  Liara and I left off what had been shaping up to be a very interesting conversation about teamwork, and the three of us set out to find out what that might have been.  The robe and grimoire we'd claimed from the Therans, along with my pack, got left in the room, and if you've done much reading you'll know I wouldn't mention that if it didn't turn out to be important.  We'd gotten plenty of warnings about being out after dark, of course, and that was sooner than most people might have liked, but Adventurers are a different breed!
     Which is why when Ronia found their tracks, and we followed them only to see that they led straight to the cemetery, a little way out from town, our pulses only quickened with anticipation!  Sandra met us just outside, and said she hoped we had brought a torch, because deep inside the cemetery they had found a wide pit in the ground.  Not a grave, by any means - this was ten feet across if it was an inch, and descended down into darkness!  Fortunately, we had thought to bring one along, because it was getting dark out.  When we got back, Baraak and Black had already disappeared into the darkness.
     You can bet I didn't wait for an invitation - I jumped right in, and landed at the bottom, ready for anything.  Now, I can hear the Swordmasters reading this nodding, and everybody else asking why I'd jump when I couldn't see the bottom.  At least, Vergil would have.  You have to understand, Swordmasters are always ready, for anything.  And we're always in training, because that's the only way to be the Best.  So faced with the unknown, the best way to learn is to jump right in, and be ready for everything!  I could have landed on a loose bones, or soft dirt, or even stone, rough or smooth.  I had to be prepared for any of those on the way down, and I had a split second to figure it out and land right, in the dark.
     To some people, that sounds like a broken leg, but to a Swordsmistess Extraordinaire!, it's just part of an ordinary day.
     As it happened, it was a pile of soft dirt, on top of packed earth.  The pile slid as I came down on it, but I shifted my stance a bit and kept my balance just fine.  The pit was at the end of a mysterious tunnel, extending out towards the town!
     Ronia climbed down a little more carefully, while Sandra and Liara stayed above to secure the exit.  At least, that's why Sandra stayed; I've never been sure what Liara was thinking.  Ronia, who had revealed herself back at the Inn to be a bonafide Scout, moved a little ahead of me, and soon we heard whispering voices ahead.  Knowing the two boys had already come down, that was a lot more promising than the clash of steel, and we soon came upon Baraak and Black, who had met up with a handful of strangers...who looked fresh from battle.
     It happens, and mostly it's a good thing, when more than one group of Adventurers happens upon the same danger.  Of course, the only reasonable thing to do is understand you're all there for the same reason, and team up.  But there's always some inevitable paranoia - I mean, when you've just met a group of people in a dark cave under a cemetery of a Horror-plagued town, you can't just assume they're on the right side.  But you can't just assume they're not, either, or a lot of the wrong people get killed.
     These turned out to be Grell, Mirrel, Arakan, and Narlinda.  I list Narlinda last because we didn't really meet her - she was unconcious, being carried, and heavily wrapped in a cloak.  Black is probably the most paranoid bastard I've ever met.  It's just one of the qualities I've learned to appreciate about him.  Even standing there in a tunnel, completely unarmored (you can guess correctly that he'd left much of his gear back at the inn, too!), he wasn't about to let them pass without at least some idea who all of them were.  After a little bit of tense negotiation, they agreed to let me take a quick look at her.  I have a way with people, you know, and can often set them at ease even in those kinds of circumstances!
     She was an elf, for sure, but she was covered in thorns.  Like, not wrapped around her, but actually coming out of her skin, and dripping blood.  Well, I'm not ashamed to admit this was the first I'd seen anything like it...but some stories had come to Throal.  Dark rituals in the Elven Court of Wyrmwood; how Queen Alachia's famous Wooden Kaer had failed.  Everybody had different ideas on whether they had been left open to the Horrors, and become twisted servants to something darker than fear, or if they had twisted themselves as some kind of bizarre defense...but "twisted" is always part of it.  Setting eyes on one, I can see why, but oh, it's painful to behold.  The beauty of the elves is still there, brought out even more in stark contrast to the wrongness of it.  [And as long as you're looking up my Tales for Children, you can find Narlinda the Rose there, too, and know that she's the one it's Named for.]
     Well, I'm not sure this vouched too strongly for the wisdom of letting them out, but it told us something, and she was definitely unconscious.  I said it was OK, and we all went back to the bottom of the pit, to climb back out, this time using a rope Ronia threw up to make it a little easier.  (Scouts are also always prepared, but in a very different way than Swordsmasters.  Some people find the differences between Disciplines frustrating, but I think it makes for some great teamwork!  Of course, that's some of what I'd been talking about with Liara, earlier, in a way.)
     Once in the light, Grell revealed what the other bundle they'd been dragging along was: Some kind of giant spidery Horror-creature, that the four of them had fought and defeated.  Passions, I wished I'd been there half an hour earlier!  The dog turned out to be Grell's, and named Heero, which I liked.  I had to admire the timing in sending Heero out to find people.  If he hadn't stumbled on us, he'd have been bringing townsfolk, who probably would have gone a little slower, and gotten there just in time to find them triumphantly out of the pit.
     In any case, once we sorted ourselves out a little, we learned that both Arakan and Narlinda are Horror Stalkers, which is pretty much the one Discipline that even we Swordsmasters think is a little suicidal.  The few who live long enough, though, have done truly great deeds, and I'll admit it's a line of training I've even thought about myself.  But I think it's not something anybody should start out with - get some grounding, first, even if you're a natural-born Stalker, so you can survive the initiation period!  More importantly, he already knew a little bit about Omandras...though as it was night already, we quickly determined it would be safer to share information about that after sunrise.
     Mirrel is a Troubadour; a beautiful T'skrang, with scales the colors of sunsets and autumn.  It's a rare color for T'skrang, and they find it as magnificent as we do.  She cares deeply for everyone around her, too, quickly showing a heart as lovely as her scales.
     I didn't find out, those first days together, just what Grell did, though I knew he was an Adept of some sort.  He was working for Arakan, almost as an apprentice might, but Arakan's reactions to it suggested it was a little less formal than that.
     Unfortunately, because of what Narlinda is, and because people know so little about them and the stories (and the reality!) is so frightening to most, the town wasn't safe for them.  Korentin had noticed a little cabin or something off the road on the way here, so we decided to take them, at least, there.  Probably all of us, for tonight, as their information suggested the town might not be a safe place to be asleep anymore.  It seemed the corruption from the Horrors had spread, and most of the town was probably already lost!

     And that, more or less, is how our night in Mallowroast should have ended.  The barn turned out to be occupied by a trio of Orks, who were just passing through and had decided to stay there rather than risk the reception Orks sometimes get in small towns so far north.  They welcomed us in and were very kind, but they were seeking some kind of anonymity, so all I will say of them is that the reception Orks sometimes get in small towns so far north is very unfair, and I wish them the best.  I hope someday I can repay their hospitality - even if the barn didn't belong to them, they offered their space, their warmth, and their food.
     But things are so rarely so simple, in the life we chose.  First off, Arakan had a supply of healing potions and some gear he had hidden in the forest; Mirrel and Grell went to find that, for Narlinda was very near death and needed their curative powers badly.  Apparently, something, or someone, had found them first...but left them alone, only gathered them up.  Which certainly was suspicious, but whatever was to come of it, wasn't to come that night.
     For first watch, we set myself and Liara; Arakan stood, too, and one of the three orks, so each group had at least one person awake.  It's a shame people can't trust each other more, but we'd all only met within the past hour, so friendly as everyone was, nobody knew anybody else.  Liara said she was going to stand outside, to better use her eyes.  I took a post by the door, to listen, and to watch over everyone inside.
     And I wish I could say I was more surprised when, less than an hour later, Liara was gone.  See, we'd had some things from the Theran Elementalist - a robe, and his grimoire - and although they were fair spoils for the group, I'd already seen Liara looking at them like she wanted them for her own.  I'm not going to say anything like, You know how Therans are, or, We should have known better than to trust an Illusionist, because those wouldn't be true.  (Well, you might know how Therans are, but I didn't - just their reputation, and reputations aren't always true.  Especially when you take the reputation for a whole group like that and use it to judge just one person.)  This was just how Liara was.
     She came back about an hour later - a pretty long time, since we were only ten minutes outside of town, and the inn was pretty near the edge.  I met her outside; there was no need to wake everybody up for this.  She didn't even try to pretend she hadn't been gone, which surprised me a little, but apparently things hadn't gone the way she'd hoped.  The Horror who had claimed the town had started killing people, and we were getting blamed.  Of course, this wouldn't be a coincidence, especially when most of the townsfolk had already been Marked.  Then she said she'd met another traveller, and went to go get them.
     I went back in for Arakan and Black.  Arakan, because he was already awake, and Black, because however much he needed rest, he'd kill me if I left him to wake up in the middle of a fight.  After everything else, I was trusting Liara less and less...and to this day, I can't be sure she wasn't working with Omandras from the beginning.  Her `friend' was another elven woman, a little prettier, with a horse, who gave her name to be Talia.  Liara herself never came back.
     Now, some of my more astute readers are probably noticing a lot of similarities between the name Liara and Talia.  I mean, there's only one letter changed, and it's mixed up barely more than Liara and A Liar.  And she was an Illusionist, afterall.  So it would have been perfectly reasonable to guess that this, Talia, was in fact Liara, trying to sneak herself back into the group as another person.  Especially with the whole, "Wait here while I get my friend" thing, and never seeing them both together...well, let's just say it crossed my mind, too.
     So if you're wondering why I didn't just run her through - which is always an effective way to pierce an illusion, if you know what I mean - you have to remember two things.  One, a Swordmaster who duels only with their blade is only half a Swordmaster - we hone our wits just as sharp.  And two, all the other things we suspected (I would be hard pressed to say we knew anything) about Liara.  She might be Theran.  She might be Marked.  She might very well have been working for Omandras all along.
     And if you study the Horrors for very long, you learn what some of their tricks are.  And one of their favorites is setting innocent people up into very suspicious circumstances.  Arakan even told us that Omandras had a long history of leaving a single survivor from the towns he had claimed over the years; survivors that, of course, were never trusted, never welcomed anywhere.  Who might have been spared because they were corrupted, but more likely were only corrupted in having been spared.  Old tales of Thera suggest similar tactics, turning people against each other to weaken them against later conquest.
     So I was willing to give this Talia a chance, knowing - as she must have known - that she would be watched, always.  If not by me, then by Black, who I'm not sure even trusted himself.  And when one of us slept and the other blinked?  Baraak's eyes had always seen more than they revealed, and always would.
     At this point, we were caught in a closing vice.  We knew something had followed us out of the pit from the cemetery, and would be prowling the night.  And if the town was being turned against us, they might well be out tonight, tracking Liara and/or Talia to our door.  Much of our gear was left behind at the inn, and would never be seen again.  (You remember, I said that was important.  But don't think you always have to carry everything you own with you, all the time; things break, or get lost.  They can be replaced.  All of us were out, and that's what really mattered!  I can tell you truly, I never gave another thought, save in basic memory, of the things we had claimed from the Theran Elementalist, or the bow which was, afterall, my first real hunting bow.  Silvers and sentiments aside, they were only...stuff.  Would that it had been only material goods Omandras had stolen from us at the first, and not my dearest friend Vergil!)
     And that's when something roared.  Something big.  Really, really big.  Big enough to have Arakan asking Grell if there were any Dragons in the area.  Apparently there was, and Grell had actually talked to her!  Despite both Arakan and myself reminding him that there were already a lot of things moving out there, he ran off into the night to look for it alone, save his dog Heero.  It was the first time I'd seen him directly ignore Arakan, but that at least cleared up my guess that he wasn't officially apprenticed...just respectful.
     So we let Talia, and her horse 'Eidolon, into the barn, and settled down for some uneasy rest while keeping a little more alert even than we had already been.  And that is how our night in Mallowroast really ended.

     In the morning, Grell still wasn't back, and I could tell Arakan was worried.  It was quiet.  Quieter than the silence that falls when the animals know something big is coming, and are holding their breath until it passes.  This was the quiet that comes when the animals know something really big has already started, and they've gone to find new homes.
     Baraak went out to have a look around.  And Arakan was at last able to tell us what he knew about Omandras, The Night King.
     Apparently, Omandras really was as old as he claimed, or at least near enough - which wasn't so remarkable, for any kind of Obsidiman.  Arakan could trace him to before the Scourge, all the way to the Invae Invasion, wherein he was apparently seen in a town in Landis.  He left only one survivor there, driven mad, babbling about living Night.  Ten years later he destroyed another town - vanished, save one survivor.  This one was Theran.  (Of course, back then, historically speaking, most of Barsaive was, too, so I'm not sure what that says.  But Arakan mentioned it as an important piece about the town, so in case somebody reading this wanted to go on to research that, there it is.)
     Arakan has found further tales of him, scattered throughout Barsaive's history.  Towns, then kaers, fallen, in his Name.  Like many Horrors, he seems to like to leave just a few witnesses here and there to his deeds, to spread the fear... but he doesn't seem to be a Horror himself.
     But Arakan also said that as old and strong as he is, he can be hurt, and you don't need a magic weapon to do it.  And the rumors that his very touch causes madness are equally false, though his sheer strength still made wrestling with him a bad idea!
     It hurt, to think what might be being done to Vergil, even as we listened to the tale.  Even as there was nothing I could do about it then, I refused to hide from the knowledge.  He was my friend.  Merely knowing of his torment...well, it had to be nothing to what he was being subjected to.  But spreading that kind of pain is just what the Horrors want: I wouldn't hide, but neither would I succumb to it.
     Black stepped out to keep watch outside at this point, while the rest of us ate a little bit.  There was definitely a fight coming; Black seemed eager to get to it, but I'll tell you, if I had a choice between an enemy with energy and an enemy faint from hunger...
     Well, I'd choose the one with energy, of course, because that would really be an unfair advantage.  But the point is, hungry isn't a good way to go into battle, if you have time to avoid it.
     We set to discussing strategy.  We didn't know what was happening; we only knew what little we had seen the night before, and the hints we had gotten from Grell that the town was already deeply corrupted.  Narlinda might have known more, but her consciousness was still a touchy thing at best.  It was Mirrel who suggested that we use the suspicion that had been thrown at us, to lure the townsfolk out, and away from Omandras' influence.  Some people say Troubadour's aren't brave, because they're not at the front of the line with a sword, but I've always said such people have no understanding of what bravery is.
     As we debated whether to go into town, or back to the tunnels, it occurred to me that Baraak had been gone a very long time.  Which, of course, is when he came back, with some rations and a set of leatherworking tools, reclaimed from our room of the night before.  He said they were all that was recoverable, and that the town was...too quiet, too.  Just like the forest.  He had only seen five people, and they were coming up the road, towards us.  That changed all our thoughts about what was happening in town.
     Most of the rest of us went out to have a look.  The townsfolk hadn't reached him yet, but there was Black - at his post, much too far down the road.  I've found fault with few of Black's decisions, at least once I saw them from his point of view, but that morning, I just don't know what he was thinking.  I'd tried to let him get some sleep since the night he skipped, so that didn't explain it.  A sentry for a small group needs to be close enough that they can report something they see, not get ambushed far enough away that the people they're guarding might not even hear a fight.  The five stopped when they reached him - four men and a woman, who was clearly their leader.  All of the men had bows ready, and they began moving into a very threatening position, spreading out to cover Korentin from all sides.
     Still, they did stop to talk to him for a moment, and of course I hoped that was promising.  They were talking to Korentin Black, though, whose talent for not stopping a fight is legendary.  Baraak and Ronia both disappeared into the trees, to try to circle around; Talia stayed back at the barn, because with her horse, she could cover the distance quickly.  I started down the road, because I can't walk as quietly as a Thief or a Scout, and probably wouldn't if I could.  I kept my sword in its sheath, though.  They were in a fighting formation, but they hadn't struck a blow yet, and I didn't want to start a fight that didn't have to happen.  (This might surprise some people, coming from a Swordmaster, but remember - we might enjoy the battle more than others, but we have more rules than most, too!)
     Sure enough, I was only halfway there when it broke.  The leader pulled out a crystal axe, and swung it at Black's head!  The archers didn't do anything, though, which was weird...but not as weird as when, after only a moment, they started to melt.
     I'll tell you true, I didn't watch it.  I didn't have to.  It was happening, and right then, that's all my brain needed to know.  They weren't an immediate threat, and whatever that was going to lead to, we'd see when it happened.  I was still too far away; I started running, even before Talia's horse thundered past me at a full charge.  Black, of course, was deadly - beautiful to watch, in his own way.  He doesn't have any flair, but he combines force and precision, and approaches battle like a Weaponsmith at their forge.  Always seeking perfection.  Which he happens to think of in a very minimalist kind of way that I don't quite see, but I can understand kind of, anyway.  He barely even flinched when her axe crushed into his shoulder, just switching hands for his sword and striking back.
     I tried to get the woman's attention as I came closer, but faced with Black's deadly stare, and having just been almost run down by Talia and her steed, her focus was hard to shake.  When I did reach, the fight was almost over - Black, even in his badly wounded state, had given her several deep wounds, even forcing his sword through her chainmail tunic.  She continued to fight like one possessed, though, as indeed she was.  I crossed my sword to the haft of her axe, and pulled it from her blood-slicked hand, tossing it to Baraak as he came out from the trees.  Maybe that would help tell her the fight was over.  I thought perhaps to give her a chance to surrender...
     ...but it was Black's fight, truly, and his blade that pushed up under her armor and into her heart.  At the last, her eyes cleared, and she managed a final, "Thank you," to our own darkest warrior, before she fell out of this life.

     And that, is where Black challenged me to a duel!  Barely standing, blood dripping down his side, and his right arm unusable.  Right as we stood, in the middle of the road, a scant five minutes from a Horrorstruck town.  You have to give him points for style, anyway!
     He had good reason to want a duel, actually.  When I was trying to get the woman's attention, what I had called out was that he wasn't worth the focus she was giving him.  Actually, I compared him to the child Liara said had been murdered the night before.
     In fact, I suggested that she was picking on him because children were too hard.
     It came out wrong.  I mean, obviously, I had to shake her attention from a clearly deadly threat, so I was trying to make him sound less deadly.  But I didn't really mean to say he was less dangerous than a child.  To say it about someone with a Troll's Honor...well, if I had had time to think about it, I wouldn't have said it.  But if I had had time to think about it, it wouldn't have come up in the first place.  I'd been trying to save his life, afterall.  So I wasn't going to just apologize.  But it really didn't seem fair; I was fresh, and he was already on the edge of unconsciousness.  I was perfectly willing to duel him (or anybody!) as needed, but I wanted to wait until it was fair!
     He pushed it, though, and, well, I needn't have worried.  If you ever meet a T'skrang named Korentin Black, I warn you, don't underestimate him, for even a moment!  He was only starting then, too, just like I was...and in the shape he was in, and the shape I was in, I'm not ashamed to admit, he won the duel.
     Partly, it was my own fault.  I wasn't taking it seriously enough.  I wanted to do it later; I was worried about something coming down the road, and if he insisted on doing it now, I needed to get it over with and move on.  But I'm not selling his skill short!  Even a distracted Swordmaster shouldn't have been disarmed the way I was, and that's how it happened - he took my sword from my hand as smoothly as I had the woman's axe, and speared it into the ground several yards away.  It was a fair fight, and I've said it before: A part of any duel is the knowledge that somebody's going to lose.  This time, it was me, and that's OK.  It had happened before, and it would happen again.
     He touched the tip of his blade to the back of my hand, drawing a single drop of blood.  I let that happen, because he had won; it was his to claim.  I think we understood each other a lot better after that, about a lot of things.
     And I told him then, and I'll tell you now, if he challenged me again, even in his sleep, he could bet I'd pay attention.
     Arakan, meanwhile, had been studying the remains of the one-time archers, and informed us that they had been left in the form of Theran runes, saying, "It Is Too Late".  Typical Horror-fare, really, and I have to wonder why it was in Theran if it was meant to tell any of us, but the idea of using people to write with...well, it is awfully creepy.  It just doesn't get to me like some people, because I understand that's the whole reason they do it.  It's just drama.
     Once his Honor was satisfied, Black let himself feel his wounds, and he staggered forward, yanking our attention away from the disgusting forms on the ground.  Arakan and I caught him, and could only watch as his consciousness left him.  To think about the willpower it took to face me down in that condition!  I'm never ashamed to admire qualities in others.  I'm good at what I do; I was born to do it.  But there are things about Black I still aspire to.  (And some I think are completely bone-headed, but I think he sees me the same, so that's OK.)

     Korentin had to be moved, and he was in no kind of shape for it.  It was Mirrel who had the idea of making a sling to carry him in; she found two long branches and some shorter ones, and quickly tied them together.  It wasn't a great job, but it would make him easier to carry, without moving him too much.  We wrapped him up in my cloak to help soften it and keep him warm.
     It's possible that some people reading this are thinking, "But Calypte - your cloak!"  It's true that it's a very nice cloak, and it wasn't cheap, and yes, it still carries some of the stains of Korentin's blood from that day.  And I'm a person, just like anybody.  (Well, perhaps just a little bit more Extraordinaire!)  I'm not above some petty thoughts, and I admit it bothered me a little later, when he was walking again and I unlashed it from the branches.  But I can't even imagine the kind of person who would think about that when a close ally was so badly hurt.
     I can't deny, though, I'm kind of glad I can't think of any reason my hat would be so important to someone else like that.  It's really one of a kind!
     Anyway, Talia went rode back towards town to get another perspective on the silence Baraak observed, while the rest of us took Korentin and the Warden (as I later learned the woman called herself) back towards the barn with the others.  Yes, we took her, too.  She was human at the end, and I thought she deserved better than to be left in the road.
     We only made it about halfway back before the ground shook terribly!  It was all we could do to keep our footing, but even so, we managed to hold on to our charges, also.  The Warden was already dead, of course, but it wouldn't have done to drop Black on his head!  The others came running out of the barn (except for Narlinda, who more kind of staggered), bringing with them everything that had been left inside.  Grell was with them, having returned safely from his sojourn of the night before...but I was sad to see Heero was not with him.  I didn't ask, yet, what had happened, but it couldn't have been good.  We all grouped together back on the road, and looked back towards Mallowroast.  I had a terrible feeling about what the trembling ground might mean already, but Talia - and more to the point, 'Eidolon - would be there and back before any of us could get there.
     I was helping to carry Black, but while we were holding for a moment, I let Arakan watch over him while I tended to the Warden.  It wasn't much - we just kind of set her up by a tree, and gave her a flower.  I'd have liked to have given her a proper burial, but there was no hoping there might be time for such a thing...and under the circumstances, perhaps open sky was the more fitting resting place for her.  It's important to be able to respect your enemies, though, especially those who have been twisted against their will.  In the end, she didn't deserve what had happened to her, starting from long before Korentin's blade thrust into her heart.
     Talia came back, and she had the wide white eyes of shock; she barely made it back to us before she simply fell off her horse.  (And if you've even ever heard of a Cavalrywoman - for that is indeed what she was - then you know just how much that says!)  I leapt over to catch her, barely!, and was grateful to see it was only a swoon.  She hadn't been wounded, or anything, just...overwhelmed by what she had seen.
     As she recovered, she confirmed the worst of my fears: Mallowroast was gone.  Collapsed into the tunnels, and soon, I was sure, to be covered over as if it had never been.
     It's more drama, see.  Arakan had mentioned that in the tales of Omandras - towns not only destroyed, but vanished!  Oooh, spooky, right?  Well, if you're researching the Night King for some reason, and were wondering how he did it, now you know.  He had his corrupted people dig tunnels underneath, and then collapses them at the end, killing the people and `vanishing' the town all at once.  Just like the other rumors Arakan cautioned us about, about his very touch driving people mad or his being unharmable by mortal means...well, it's all false.  Omandras had great power, to be sure...but not as great as he made it out to be!  That day, I wasn't strong enough to beat him, but I knew the day that I would be was not far off!
     Fortunately, Grell was able to confirm that the last un-tainted survivors of Mallowroast had already left, finding escort by mercenaries.  It was Arakan who talked me out of going back to search for any more.  He had more experience with Omandras, and was certain such a search could only cost our lives.  I've been accused of being a little impractical sometimes, and I know there's a ring of truth to that.  It's one of the ways Vergil and I worked so well together.  But sometimes you can be too practical, too, and Horror Stalkers maybe have to be.  It didn't sit well with me.  Maybe we already had done all we could; maybe we really did know there was nothing left to find.  Talia certainly hadn't seen anything.
     But it still felt like leaving without trying hard enough.  Sometimes, living to fight another day is harder than fighting to the bitter end...but while it didn't sit well with me then, and still doesn't today, I know that throwing our lives away against Horrors too strong for us only feeds the Horrors.  The only way I could avenge Mallowroast, or save Vergil, or stop the Night King from continuing his evil for another thousand years...was to live, and to learn.  The orcs who had given us their hospitality at the barn went another way, and Sandra elected to accompany them.  I don't know if they offered her payment for her formidable protection, or if she had a liking for the brother, or simply wished to travel another road for a time, but so she went.  And so the rest of us left, to return to Bartertown, for one of the hardest tasks I'd ever faced.  Telling the men at The Lost Puppy that they could never go home.

     And so ended my very first adventure, in what could only honestly be called failure.  But it wasn't all a loss - I had new friends, and new companions.  I had learned a lot...and Omandras had sealed his fate.
     This tale is as true in the telling as ever have I told.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:58, Sat 09 Dec 2006.

An Excrept from the Journal of Talia Silentgrace

I never expected this. In all my days waiting and planning, never this. I suppose... it was a fantasy from the start. I suppose everything always was...

When I was there, I used to dream of my father. And I dreamed of Javen and Kurrs and all the others– even Naphone, coming in the night. I told myself that if I waited, they would come. But they never did. I held to that belief, with all my heart. I held to hope. Like a child. And I was a child. Who could blame me? But somewhere deep inside, I knew the truth. I had seen the truth. It bled into the streets in front of me. It washed down into the fields to soak the corn and the beans in the rain that fell relentlessly. So much so, that the fires seemed unreal.

Perhaps it was not so hard to pretend after all. Despite that, I still did what I had to do. I had to be there when they arrived, after all... Even if I lied to myself every day. Though I smiled, I thought that I must have done some horrible thing to turn the Passions from me. And so, I suppose that must have made it all right– perhaps fitting, that this should have been my fate.

When I left, I found that it was bittersweet to taste freedom. It seems there are places and things that you can never leave behind, though you try. I had heard that Throal was thriving and strong. It seemed the perfect place to go. It seemed... safe. Yet, I had no idea...

The Scourge had left traces everywhere. I didn't understand. Or perhaps the years had dulled me from that life. That dream. As Shayeidolon and I wandered, we often shied from sounds that I took for native animals... but perhaps now, I think that was not the case at all.

We made our way to Urupa, but I found that even in Barsaive, the people were not what I imagined. I left that city with all new gear... to replace that which was stolen on the way. Though, in a way, I was almost grateful that they took as much coin as they did. It made the funds from the dress less questionable.

From there we headed up the old Theran Road– the irony. We were pursued by... what I don't rightly know. But we escaped and made our way onward to a village.

If possible, I watched my own life pay out in front of me again in this lost place. But this time, I vowed it should not end the same. I confess, out of all that I've done these past years, the battle that I was led to was by far the worse that I could have imagined. More so, in that I misjudged so much in my desire to do the right thing. To make someone else's dream a reality. Yet, it already was, and it needed no help from me. And yet again, I find I have have blood on my hands of good men. Perhaps I should have put away my sword then. Perhaps I would have. If not for Mallowroast. If not for Rashi.

Things like Mallowroast. These things shouldn't happen. Certainly not to children. I could have died in those blazes– died with that horrible cowled being. Perhaps part of me wishes I did. But what of Shayeidolon? No. We made a promise. And we've both kept it.

I could cry. I could give up. I might even want to. But it would change nothing that has been and nothing that will be. But if I act, even if I die, perhaps everything that has happened will have meaning. Perhaps someone else's dream will live on where mine has ended. There is no fairness to be had in this world, no true justice– that, as Lady Liara would say, is the greatest Illusion of all.

I wonder how she fares now. Despite what I've seen. I believe she is far more wretched than I...

If someone ever stumbles over Mirrels journal they may end up by this little part.

Haradis I greet you!

This is yet another step on the road of life that I started long ago, and still I cannot see even a mirage of the ending I should be heading for.
There is this itch in my hands, this need to write and leave my mark on the world quickly. I think father mentioned I should settle down, find a good mate and leave my mark on this world with mixed blood. Asch, he is my father, but he
is still human and sees it slightly diffrent I guess. Even if I know he easily spent time with t'skrangs, and still do.
Besides, there is no one that can live up to father when in comes to the fields of battle. It is like an intriguing dance, so much power and precision!
Hmm, even so...I tried to explain to him that mistress Lafayette had a good point, but as always when I mention her name he got angry. It was years ago it happened, and she never misstreated me. Instead she took great care of me and dressed me up. I think father knew that back then, as he does now, but she must have gotten to him in some way. Maybe it was when she asked him if he favored men over a fully fledged woman since he acted like such a brute. Though it could have been because of the collar and leash, but it was expensive! A real work of art that she graced me with.
...I hope he uses this time alone to do things beyond saving bits and pieces of the world. He needs to truly live to gain that fighting spirit. A crush, an infatuation, be it whatever but I hope something, someone warms his heart beyond me.
A daughter can only do as much, and now I'm not even near him to make him smile.

Haradis I know you!

There is a subtle beat in this town. Just under the surface, and it calls to me when I am working.
After the day we arrived I realized quickly that the sun hid away the information I needed. Besides, at night I can always work and make more money for the special ink-colors I need.
I bet there will be time to talk to some of my travelling companions inbetween working hours! I must make time somehow so their story wont get twisted...their story. Mhm, I guess it truly is. To watch, to write and to tell, that is my
role. I guess that is why most of them keep their distance, atleast I guess it is. The letter I got as a reply from Mr Black seemed to indicate he had no dislike of me. Asch, there was actually many words in the letter but in reality
so little information! Maybe I should just hunt him down and squeeze his history out of him? But that wouldn't be very ladylike would it... He is bigger than me aswell, and I bet he runs faster. Atleast I know for sure that he isn't out to kill me. Heh, I got really nervous there for awhile.
So, what to do...ah! I need to find a gift for Talia. Maybe I should make a to do list to keep track of everything, and stay away from those nasty mugs of courage bringers the tavernguest offered me when I said I had to write that darned letter. So, the letter got written, but I swear the town kept on spinning even the following day.
To do then:
1. Talias gift.
2. Buy carrots.
3. Talk to Grell about pretty necklace. (He was so cute when he gave me that gift! A real gentleman.)
4. ...try to fix dark secret...
5. When talking about dark secrets...why can't I stop thinking about Mr Blacks tail?! Must stop thinking about tail!!
6. Come up with more things to do.

Haradis is the place to be!

I can't believe how lucky I am! Amongst all of the people working here I found him! The beat I was talking to really existed and just a few hours ago I heard him singing. Such a voice, such a stage presence. Please, please, please Passions. Make him accept to sing my song, and take me under his wings to share his teachings.
Beyond that...a few weird lyrics keeps repeating themself in my mind so I may just aswell scribble them down someplace.
That way I can stop thinking of them finally.

I have danced with a breathtaking noble,
kissed a mercenary dark as sin.
Been running through bonecracking danger,
been running from things I can't win.
But things I remmeber now most of all,
those things that I cannot forget.
Is your voice sweet in the night as you call,
is the joy I felt those times we met.

...didn't work. Still thinking about it! What does it mean? Oh I hate when this happens. That nagging feeling that it is important somehow. Maybe there are some words I should replace... Bah!
No time to be sitting around and writing. I need to get moving again. Things to do, papers to read and people to meet.
Hrothgars blessed vaccation ended me up in a alot of work instead. It's a cruel cruel world.

Letter to Captain Blade of the HMS Llandisian Fury.

Captain Blade! Lords and Ladies of the crew!
I greet you!

I regret to inform you that our mutual trade agreements are no longer valid. It is by no means on account of anything you have done or said.
The fault is entirely in the hands of a Windling called Eventide.
I shall explain as well I can.

Eventide hired the Punisher for a punitative expedition against the rivership Dark Tidings.
We flew out from K'Tenghin towards the last coordinates of their whereabouts on the Serpent River and with Eventide aboard.
After having spotted a ship that fitted the description we discretely made landfall and started preparations for an ambush.
Raffah, Grubsnik, Antithanos and I were on the away team searching for the best station to attack from.
Upon our return I spot Mortu undoing the mooring and I get the weird feeling that something is very very not how it's supposed to be. His movements are kind of off. As if he is performing duties like he has not slept for a month. (We all know that is not true. We all heard him snore loudly all through the night!)
In any case Antithanos went up to him and the next thing I know is that Mortu is mauling Antithanos, Raffa flies into a rage (You've heard of his Gahad) and the ship start taking off without us.
Raffas Gahad finally wears off when Mortu is thoroughly (and I do mean Thoroughly) dead. I notice several  shipmates starting to shamble toward us.
At this point it is clear that they are turned into cadavermen.
Raffa died in the ensuing battle. His Gahad got the better of him before we could relieve him. I attempted to grab the mooring still hanging from the side of the ship, but when Warrax nearly hit me as he fell over the side I lost my bearings.
Just in case Grubsnik and I didn't get the message Ravashack and Torin hit the ground shortly afterwards.
I immediately tried to see if I could save either Ravashack or Torin while the Punisher sailed off.
Grubsnik and I seemed to have survived on pure luck.
What happened aboard the Punisher is anyones guess, but if you want my advise (and eternal gratitude) you be vary of the Windling Eventide.
If he tries to hire you I suggest you take the payment and kill him off in his sleep before he has the chance to betray you.
In either case Grubsnik seem to have joined the Halberd as crew and I joined a landbased crew.
They seem to be the best bet I have to fulfill the contract Captain Malleus signed on behalf of my crew.
Once that the contract is fulfilled and both V'kestes and Eventide are gone I will need a ship to crew. I would be honoured if your proud ship could find space for me, but let us see how well I survive this endeavour first.

Yours Truly
Siff.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:08, Wed 04 Mar 2020.

Mistress Ucrosce,

I'm afraid I don't have any news yet about Halden and the Night Kings, but I promised to keep you abreast of my travels. So:

I have joined with a caravan as a guard. Jazciel, who brought our group together on behalf of the Lightbringers, connected us with the work. I know it is not a direct line of investigation, but it is allowing me to travel and speak with a variety of Name-givers. Also, it turns out that wandering in search of lost friends is not very lucrative, and I do need funding for cucumber sandwiches at the very least.

We were set upon by brigands in the night. I'm afraid I didn't make a very good accounting of myself, serving mostly as a pincushion to absorb arrows that might have been intended for others.

There are several other Adepts with the caravan:

Kathkar, an ork and magician of a rather somber demeanor. GMC

Seethra, one of those windlings with the chipper voices that picks up as soon as she wakes and doesn't stop until she's been asleep for at least 5 minutes. She's good with animals, but not great with violent conflict. I worry about her. No longer with the group

Trilarigas, one of those windlings that reminds you not to generalize about windlings. He is courteous and unassuming, but a deadly Archer Adept.

Talia is an elf Cavalryman, and nicely terrifying. She spent most of the combat dragging around one of our assailants from her saddlehorn. Shayeidolon is her horse.

Korentin is a t'skrang sky raider, a capable front-line fighter and professional about his business. He bears a black sword of archaic make. I think there may be more to that story.

Siff is an Air Sailer, a human. She dealt with the combat well, but is also capable with a needle and thread. As several of us had been pricked quite neatly by the attacking archers, she graciously showed her skill by sewing us back together.

On defeating our assailants, we discovered a strange emblem of a burning anvil on their equipment. I'm afraid I don't know what it signifies.

That is all I have to report; please keep me updated. And send me some more drawings of those Landisian-inspired dresses. I'm convinced I can get someone to convert the cut to match my rather unforgiving curves. <crude drawing of a winking, smiling face, with tears of laughter near both eyes>

Yours,
Imerdijn
This message was last edited by the player at 14:54, Sun 31 May 2020.

Trilarigas began his rest by altering one of the arrows the enemies had fired. He shortened the shaft to his draw length and notched the fletching into a picture of the jewelers shop where a younger, happier windling had worked, before....  Using his small tools, Tril inscribed into the shaft:

The resulting arrow was ugly, clunky, and totaly unusable for warfair. Anyone who wondered what the windling was doing in making it was likely less concerned when he used it in his Karma Ritual the next morning. No one was surprised when he left it sticking out of the tree like a new branch when he packed up and left with the group.

Dear Grubsnik.
I am writing you very slowly as I know you cannot read that well.
It is good to see that you have not lost your humour in the lights of recent events.
Once you know the gender of the baby let me know so I know whether to call you "Aunt" or "Uncle". Enough silliness. Let's get to business.
After you left for the Halberd I joined the landbased crew from the tavern.
They needed a chef and were going in the right direction and, as luck would have it, they are after the same people we were.
There's some adepts here too.
Turns out that dour T'skrang is Korentin. Yes, THAT Korentin.
Blackhorns Pupil, The Cleanser of Tar'Deno, A Drakkar Lizard and all that.
He doesn't seem as boastful as you'd expect.
I did see him in action though.
We got ambushed by a group of scorchers.
I managed to get the jump on their archers.
Took me forever to get him killed. Still. I got out of it without a scratch.
So that's something I suppose.
In any case, I was fighting a bit away from the others, so I can't say for certain, but it appears Korentin found the largest targets and went for their belly.
The Scorchers Horses. At least that's what I understood.
The Obsidiman did a pretty decent job making sure only a few of us were hurt.
Had some arrows deeply stuck in her too. (I had so much trouble pulling arrows out of him. I need to get stronger... Obsidimen skin is so hard to work with).
Not really sure what happened apart from that. I emptied my Physicians supplies again.
Why does that always happen? How can I make my crew understand they shouldn't be hurt as often? I can't refill for weeks and I doubt this is the last fight we're in before we reach port.

Anyway, my shift is almost over and nothing happened.
I'll keep you posted. Letters through the usual means.

Keep the flag flying and leave a letter at port as usual.
Until we meet again!
Siff the Undaunted

Ps. I would have enclosed ten silvers, but I had already sealed the parchment.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:02, Sat 19 Sept 2020.

An Excerpt from the Journal of Talia Silentgrace

We lost them. All of them at Tar'Deno. Though we searched and scoured the kaer, we could find no one, but only those dread creatures who ambushed us at what felt like every turn. The shadows were deep and the silence deafening. How long we wandered, I may never rightly know, before the darkness lifted and we found the small band of adventurers.

Up until then, I cannot rightly describe what emotions ripped at my heart at the thought of leaving those I had sworn to fight along side.... Those I had promised to protect. Yet even still, my promise to Shayeidolon and myself was to be greater. For what purpose could our end alone in that terrible place serve? And so with heavy hearts, I had decided that should I be so fortunate to find an exit, to leave and wish our companions strength and courage, though we suspected we should never see or hear of them again.

But yet Fate is ever uncertain. Those we stumbled upon relayed the details of the battle that occured and my heart lifted. Though the band (one Orc named Moaze, a Troll named Aeric, and a T'skrang named Mazdor) elected to stay and hunt for treasures, they were kindly enough to part with some small rations and impart that our friends had traveled back toward Throal. Our hearts afire, we raced back toward the Dwarven Kingdom to find our friends. But perhaps we were too impulsive. Two by gallop is by far faster than a team on foot and so we lost them again.

Our attempt to rejoin them was waylaid by the raids by Kethra the Night King's scorchers. And so, in short fashion, we found ourselves riding with Throal's Ghosts against these ruffians. But ruffians is hardly the word. Any associates of a Night King such as Omandras have only my hatred. For surely any association they all have to one another is foul. As foul as the crimes of the dark-stoned obsidiman. And so our promise found new root hunting down these raiders. Many of the Ghosts fell. There are surely legions of these outriders, though I dare not speak this truth openly. I will not give their purpose fuel by word or emotion less the fires of fear grip this countryside. Again. I watch the world burn around me. Is there to be no end of it?

By the will of the Passions themselves, Shayeidolon and I happened upon none other than our old friends at the ruins of Brightsprings! Despite the carnage there, my heart settled at the sight of our own Korentin Black! I do not suspect I  have been so glad to have seen anyone in all my many years away from home! Much has happened, I know, and it is with some sadness that our group fractured again soon after. I, much despite myself, would have heard more from Calypte Swordmistress Extraordinare! before we found ourselves back on the road. Strange things are afoot for certain. Where this current merchant caravan mission will take us, is anyone's surmising. This eve found us attacked by those very vile raiders who destroyed Brightsprings and slayed those of the Ghosts. I cannot forgive them. Any mercy they receive shall not be by my hand. I do hope that my cause is just as my emotions. I have not the calm of Korentin in such matters. Even now as he rests, I see him curled up in his wolfhide cloak and wonder at how he sleeps so well. And yet I am haunted.

There will be much to consider on this journey. I have yet to learn much about my new allies. As for our previous group, only Korentin and I remain now. Certainly not the best for discussion, but I trust him readily to watch my back. These others fight well, but we will have to see what their conduct suggests of their own natures. I will write more of them later, as I can note the slight light of dawn emerging and have mind to begin readying camp so we can leave without too much additional delay.