# "Second Son of a Second Son" - Bleys' Journal



## Rastfar (Jan 22, 2007)

This is the diary of  Bleys the Aubergine, graduate of the Academy of Wizardry in the Year of the Margrave 637.  It is his first person account of all occurrences, as they happen (to the extent of his knowledge) for the current Aquerra campaign Second Son of a Second Son.  Should he live so long, it will come in three parts, the first of which is titled Opinions.

_A warning to players of said campaign:  Should you so have the craving to read this, be aware that you may be uncovering parts of Bleys' past history, speculation, motivations, and/or anticipated future actions that would otherwise be unavailable to you or your character.  If you believe this knowledge will ruin any dramatic revelations, scenes, or other in-game discoveries for yourself or any other players because you can not act accordingly, I encourage you *DO NOT CONTINUE*.  Otherwise, enjoy..._


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## Rastfar (Jan 24, 2007)

*A Winter's End*

_Opinions_


'If you have nothing to say, do not waste words doing it.'

But I get ahead of myself. I am going to try to keep a brief self-dialogue here so that I may have it for reference should the need ever arise. I guess this is the first part. I'll call it: impressions.

Today is the 9, Sek 637 M.Y. I found myself, quite unexpectedly, in Sluetelot, the seat of power for House Tenbrook. I could feel that outsiders were most unwelcome, especially here in a raucous Inn named Death and Taxes. Now, I didn't arrive here by mistake, quite the contrary, I've been assigned to come here, as the case may be, quite intentionally. The unexpected part is that I did not dream my assignment to be of such seeming importance nor hand-picked by the Margrave herself. Of course my former mentor Sir Abberd the Argent did not directly say this to me, but I am fairly certain as to whose idea it was that I join the Charter of Schiereiland. I am humbled and very enthusiastic. I wish not to let her down.

As I waited in the Inn with father for everyone else to arrive, for the first time I found myself thankful that our surname was indeed Winter and not Devenpeck. It seems that after the mysterious murder of Barakis the Bold, a well-loved Watch-Mage here for many years, the entire town was very upset and disturbed, blaming the entire affair on the people of Weirspierogen, and I can only assume the Devenpecks. I must conclude that this was why father was so unusually quiet and left after the evening's meal.

Barton Digits, the proprietor, showed us upstairs to two semi-private adjoining suites. A hand-painted sign outside the doors. It read: Schiereiland Luncheon. It was not the gala reception or celebration that I had expected given the station of everyone I had assumed would be attending. A woman about my age greeted us warmly - Euleria Finch. She proved to be a most gracious host, introducing us to a man already present, Darbold the Gay. As it turns out the once athletic, now paunchy man was on the Watch-Mage's Council. Shortly after our arrival, representatives of House Raymer were shown in. Accompanied by his father Jansen Ackers, was Markos, and his cousin Laarus Raymer of Ra. Markos is a weathered young man, seemingly frail like a twig. His lithe build and fair features are perhaps what add to this. His cousin, the priest, is by contrast quite broad, though sports the same fair features and pale skin.

More characters arrived; first Nikephorus hobbled in, a quiet Librarian who quickly found a seat, producing a book. I assume he was there to record the events of the day. I later discovered him to be the older sibling of Telemakhos Briareus. Next came Victoria Ostrander, Militant of Anhur, with all the accouterments I begrudge a knight. She and her father Sir Lionel, stood awkwardly apart from everyone else, seemingly inexperienced in the delicate art of political mingling. Of course, none of us proved any more effective. Given the opportunity to get a good look at her in the meantime, I could tell that she took her business very seriously. Not one to succumb to narcissism, her hair was cropped to a hand's length and, despite the chain armour, it was obvious that her martial skills kept her body well-tuned. The remaining guests arrived in short order now. The Briareus clan, led by their burly patriarch Agamemnon, included my brother-in-law Telemakhos and another vaguely familiar face, Timotheus. The duo could not be more disparate. The former, is a smaller man and was obviously dressed for the occasion. Time had been spent meticulously curling his blond hair, and he dressed in the traditional formal toga matched only in glamour by his sword, with it's fancy peace-knot hinge. The latter was a large, broad shouldered, thick muscled brute. His face was dominated by a square jaw housing a wide, expressive mouth. Tailing Telemakhos so closely, it was hard to tell if the warrior was either out of place, or his bodyguard. I assumed a bit of both. All the while, Markos, obviously as out of place as myself, would continue to stand when others arrived, as if in anticipation of some formal announcement, and when there was none he'd sit and continue to keep company with his plate.

Dracius of Ra, mentor of Laarus, also came to bid his best wishes to his pupil. An older man, with graying-blonde hair, once dyed black, now growing out again - Joezyn Barhyte - was last to arrive. And in so doing, launched the formal introduction of the Charter. In honor of the occasion several gifts were given for our disposal:

- The Margrave generously purchased the services of our steward Euleria for the duration of one year.

- House Tenbrook generously paid for our usage of these same two suites and all food and drink purchased therein for the duration of 7 months.

- House Barhyte generously paid for the stabling, grooming, feed and care for our horses at the Tensmoor Stables outside of Old Town for the duration of 6 months.

- House Curen generously offered the services of discounted training facilities at the University of Thricia for the duration of three years.

- House Devenpeck offered us nothing. I suspect that they are unknowing of my involvement in the Charter, or that father would even bother mentioning it. Neither of these points surprise me nor upset me. I'd rather remain anonymous just now.

After the announcements, the Charter's outline was read aloud by our steward. We all signed the Charter. Only Laarus was as eager as I to put pen to paper, and simultaneously we cast our names to the two different copies that we were to sign. Ultimately, everyone did so without hesitation. Leisel of Isis, former member of the Watch-Mage's Council and head of the local temple of Isis then arrived with Lavinia Vanderboren, a mercantile woman; they'd come to wish us well. The moon priestess was radiant, draped in black with a silver shawl, her hair braided and wrapped on a bun. Telemakhos did not miss his cue, and always the affable, was the first to break rank and begin mingling. Unfortunately, my brother-in-law came to speak with me. Mostly small talk, introducing his cousin-bodyguard, a bastard now recognized by Agamemnon's brother. Quickly, Telemakhos found something else more interesting and moved on to speak with the merchant woman, Timotheus in tow.

After some time spent in silence with father, observing the peacocks preen about and shower each other with proper decorum, we moved to speak to Sir Lionel. Unfortunately I was waylaid by a weasely little Hermanlander who must have snuck in while I was not looking. He kept me from meeting the knight. He introduced himself as Cavalind Rattlendale and did his best to hide his intentions by beseeching me to mention to the Charter members the merits of traveling to Herman Land and combat evil humanoids, etc. 'What adventurers do,' as he phrased it. I quickly tuned him out, and he moved on, attempting to appeal to Telemakhos instead. My brother-in-law at least heard the conniver out, but as it has not been mentioned since, must assume the pleas again fell upon deaf ears. As I was listening in on their conversation, Laarus of Ra beckoned me to join the conversation in which he had become embroiled. I did so. He wished my input on the subject of what mission we should begin with our Charter undertaking in. Specifically, he asked if the 'Margrave had an idea in mind.' How he came to know that I was a representative of the Margrave I don't know, for I assumed that it was not common knowledge beyond the assignment of a Watch-Mage. How was he to know that I believed she hand-picked me, of all Watch-Mages, for this task. But such are the glories of Ra. I assured him that I was unaware of any such personal requests.

As everyone continued to meander about now, many conversations continued simultaneously. A few individuals began to come and go, some retiring for the evening, others wishing words of final encouragement and advice before beginning their long journeys home. I took the opportunity to inquire into the recent death of the Watch-Mage here. Leisal, a former member of his council, informed me that there was no further progress into discovering the nature of his untimely end. She did, however, enlighten me as to the close camaraderie that he and Darbold shared. I found the bard, relishing yet another plate of food. He mourned the death of his drinking buddy, and had no insight to offer. I asked him for directions to Barakis' house. Conveniently, it was just across the street, where the carousers would usually go to continue their revelries. Additionally, I learned that Floris Tenbrook shared an avuncular relationship with the older wizard and mourned his passing to Anubis' Realm most of all. I sought out Laarus. I found him already engaged with Telemakhos. He seemed to be weighing the Briareus' words. It appeared that the man was trying to convince the priest of the merits of investigating a possible plot by pirates against House Wetherwax, originating in Tribunisport. Telemakhos seemed to have already come by some leads for our Charter to follow up on, continuing to suggest that after doing so we should look into some barbarian raids originating from the area of the Kingstones in the Disputed Territories. The latter suggestion appeals to me greatly. The former worries me.

I waited for Telemakhos to finish his piece. I wished to enlist Laarus to accompany me to the abode of the Watch-Mage. Fearing for the appearance it may have upon myself and the Charter should I be noticed 'snooping' around his place, especially were it to be discovered that my liege-lord was House Devenpeck, I knew his presence would lend an heir of credibility. I explained this to the insightful cleric and in hearing the merit of my words, he graciously agreed. Telemakhos invited himself along.

Quickly we crossed the street, passed through the gate, and stepped over the empty tankards and goblets strewn about the yard. There was a note on the door. It read 'for all normal business concerning the Watch-Mage, visit Darbold the Gay'. There were crude hand-drawn directions. I tried the door; it was locked. I was angered and returned to Death and Taxes. Darbold was still there stuffing his fat face. I asked if he knew who had the key. Over greasy lips he told me that he did, pulling it from a string draped around his neck. I asked for it. He asked why, and then insinuated, the nerve, that I wished to measure for drapes. I could barely contain my fury. He asked if I was sent by the Academy to do so. Again I tried to explain that I was merely pursuing the personal interest of looking into another Watch-Mage's demise. It was only now that he was forthcoming with the fact that the Academy had already investigated. If he knew the outcome, he wasn't telling, or he deemed me not needing to know. Finally, I asked if he knew who had investigated the crime. I did not expect his response - Abberd Argent. While a truncated version of my former master's true title, I instantly divined who he meant. And if Sir Abberd the Argent was satisfied then so was I. I let the matter close. I thanked Laarus for his time.

We found ourselves situated in the common room of one of the suites, snacking on a light supper, just enough to fill our bellies before retiring for the evening. Just then Timotheus and Markos returned. The stench of foul-spirits heralded their approach as they sat down to gorge. They broke the calm, and loudly proclaimed that now was the time to discuss what our course of action should be. I grew annoyed. I informed the group, now together for the first time, that more than one of them was at least mildly intoxicated and that I recommended against making any decisions until tomorrow morning. I took the remains of my meal, bid them good night, and retired to one of the sleeping areas. It was then that I realized that my worst fears may become realized. I take this assignment very seriously, but perhaps not all of us do. I have the utmost respect for Laarus, as he station commands it. And Victoria must be a boon to us; a Militant is worthy warrior. But these other three, I don't know about. I agreed to abide by the provisions of our Charter when I signed, and it clearly reads - sober intent. For the group to sit around, while any of our member is without clarity, and make a declaration of intent: that does not sit well with me. Frankly, I was surprised that I was the only one seemingly offended.

As I have no funds, and little rations, I am sneaking food back to my sleeping area and Preserving it. And that's it, for today. Well, I guess not. Telemakhos has just left. He took it upon himself to inform me that while he was pissing on the Watch-Mage's house, the ne'er-do-well happened to notice that the rear door was left open. Of course, I asked him if he then closed it. He did not.


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## Rastfar (Jan 24, 2007)

10, Sek 637 M.Y.

As I slept fitfully last night, I found my mind kept wandering always to return to one burning question:  Of all places, why have this party Sluetelot?  It just seems like such a long way to go for a bunch of Schiereilanders.  It is only convenient to me, and surely none of them anticipated my inclusion, not that it matters.  As I awoke earlier than the rest of my party, I sought out the steward.  She is efficient, that Euleria, and I suspect that we did receive a wonderful gift from the Margrave in being awarded her services.  I asked her to send a message to Darbold, informing him of the status of the Watch-Mage’s rear door.  I also posed my query to her.  Euleria seems to have some answers.  Houses Ostrander and Briareus were fighting about where to hold the party, with opinions changing several times - they were considering Old Raymer when they found out about the gift from House Tenbrook - and figured this was as good a compromise as any.  Also, the Academy is notoriously slow about appointing new watch-mages - by having the chartered group stationed here, there will be a watch-mage present in town at least some of the time, however unofficially.  The relative closeness of the Disputed Territories made her speculate, and I agree, that the powers that be want someone down there as their eyes and ears.  Finally, it would be no surprise if House Tenbrook likes the idea of manipulating their gift to have the Schiereiland lesser houses working in their interests to some degree.  Already I feel as if I’ve accomplished much.

‘Some people can’t hear past their own mouths.’

We had breakfast together in the suites and decided to spend the morning at the Temple of Anhur.  Laarus instead went to see Dracius of Ra before the senior priest left town.  Markos did not join us.  Timotheus wanted to see ‘what we could do’.  I anticipate that he is interested in developing some tactics.  That is smart; obviously he is a veteran and knows what is necessary if we are all to remain alive in the field of combat.  Unfortunately, I had no coppers to offer as tithe, and so was uncomfortable taking to the field.  The others were outfitted with wooden weapons with which they sparred.  My suspicions were confirmed.  Telemakhos is adept only at defense, though he is quick enough to stay out of harms way, hopefully.  And thankfully, at least for him, Timotheus fights as well as any two soldiers.  Victoria showed great prowess as well, able to switch between several martial weapons without a second thought.

Returning to the suites’ common room for lunch, we all met again.  Leisal had returned with news from her temple and wished to convey to us the importance of what may lie in the Disputed Territories.  She said that when the barbarian hordes move on they leave behind their young and elderly, leaving them vulnerable to attack by other humanoids or monsters.  Apparently one of the ‘sisters’ of her order had already returned with some orphans and was the one responsible for giving Leisal her information.  We continued to discuss how we might pursue a path into the Disputed Territories and Leisal recommended that it may be possible for us to contact the halflings of Wesmearshire, one of whom could surely guide us, if not point us in the proper direction.

Laarus weighed in.  He must have also heard something from Dracius or in his local temple, for he stated that he had confirmation by ‘higher authorities’ of barbarian attacks being spurned by those of the Kingdom of the Red God.  He intimated that in so doing we should investigate the Treaty of Devil’s Grasp.  Euleria, a gem that one, was able to produce a map of Thricia to aid us in our discussion of where to go.  It seemed obvious that all our information and leads were clearly sending us to the Disputed Territories.  Yet, why does Telemakhos adamantly persist with this pirate business in Tribunisport.  Even after Victoria asked him how he came by his information, he would not tell.  Is he attempting to sway the Charter to some ends which would benefit House Briareus?  Timotheus is of course in agreement with his master, but I can not understand why Markos is so swayed.  He must not appreciate the insight of his cousin, as I do.  We were only able to agree that we would travel south the few days to New Harbinger, and make a decision from there.  As it lies on the coast east of the Borderlands, and north-westerly across the Drei-Hoek Bay from Black Thread Isle, where Tribunisport sits.  We are leaving tomorrow morn.

Floris Tenbrook arrived in time to break the tension of our arguments.  In a drunken stupor he dawdled to our table to ‘get a look at us’.  It is obvious that he consoles his grief with the drink, and too much of it.  I announced him to the group and he slumped off after considering some unheard insult by one of the bar chairs.

As our heading was at least known, Telemakhos asked Euleria about securing us with hired help upon our arrival.  Timotheus was quick to agree to sword and bowmen.  Markos produced an unusual sum of coin, donating at least 3 score silvers, with the rest of the funds contributed by Telemakhos and Victoria.  The monies are to be used for hirelings wages, as well as food and lodging.  Any spoils we receive as a result of our forays will cover the initial expense put forth by those three individuals.  On this second matter we agreed readily.

I asked Euleria if it was customary for any such gifts to the Charter to be transferable.    If we could continue receive the benefit of grooming, stabling, food and lodging as we moved about the country, that would have been a great boon indeed, but alas we are tethered to Sluetelot for such benefits.

After lunch, Laarus spared us the public spectacle of embarrassment and found opportunity to approach me alone.  We spoke at length about his concerns, which were namely my concerns.  It seems that he queried as to my reluctance to investigate rumours of pirates in Tribunisport.  I assured him that the Thrician Royal Navy did not need the help of we six to stave off some dreaded attacks by a few pirates.  I don’t know if he was convinced but I believe he saw the merit in my arguments at the least.  Besides, at this point in time we have not the funds nor resources to secure ship nor crew.  I honestly don’t know that some of these nobility live in reality, rather they expect things to be done for them due to their birth-rank.  It is quite possible, however, that Telemakhos will bend everyone else’s ear with his gilded tongue and yet sway the votes for us to travel across the bay.  Would he be doing so out of altruism?  I think not.  If I recall correctly, it was his brothers slain by pirates.  The Charter would then be serving his own, House Briareus’, ends; though ‘for the good of the people’ they may yet be.

We gathered for dinner in the common room of the suite.  Laarus was said ‘to have taken ill’  from something he purchased from a street vendor and was not to join us.  Instead the priest lay sequestered in his bed, conserving his strength for tomorrow’s departure.  I wonder if indeed it was mayhap something I said.  I’d like not to be at odds with him, in fact I find I enjoy his conversation and candor.  We spoke to Euleria about passage to the south and learned of our options.  The High Road is further inland and a slower journey by a day, but safer.  The Beach Road hugs the coast is infrequently used due to threat of bandits. These facts seemed to excite the Briareus: Telemakhos for the former and Timotheus, the latter.  Telemakhos adjourned from our company early to go gamble. Victoria played chit chat with Timotheus who dominated the conversation.  Markos, like myself, stayed quiet.  I imagine he may just be processing all the information being passed around.  As the two warriors talked, Timotheus talked of being a bastard and his dislike for Sir Agamemnon, his uncle, Telemakhos’ father.  He certainly did not seem to care for the knight or for who knew it, even going so far as to mention that Telemakhos would echo his sentiment.  Apparently Victoria relished the idea and proposed asking him when he returns later ‘tonight when he is foolish with liqour’.  I enjoyed that remark.  The alcohol does make one foolish, I’m glad to know that she recognizes it as well.

The talk turned to our group and our travels.  Markos shared some insight into his own musings, and posed that as we adventure all Houses will have some design for our group.  Eloquently, he expressed that our ends should be to serve the people of Thricia; same as the Margrave, avoiding temptation and political quagmire.  If indeed I did drink I’d have toasted him then.  I raised my glass in salute of his declaration.  Again, I am glad for another who has clarity for our purpose.  Before closing, Timotheus, ever the warrior and tactician turned finally to the mechanics of our members.  He expressed concerns of we all having and utilizing missile weapons, as well as, drilling in order to meld magic into melee effectively.  I imagine his intent is good: to keep us all alive; but I wonder if perhaps the conversation would be better held with the entirety of our members and before he’d imbibed enough drink to drown most any man.  Nonetheless there is merit in his words and having some passing knowledge of tactics myself, it is clear that his own experience and practice surpass my own.

The rest of the evening we prepared our personals to depart the following day.  I do so look forward to leaving this town and feeling soft earth beneath my horses feet, though I am apprehensive of what is to become of we members of the Charter.  I can only pray that we shall find some fraternity when forced to rely on one another and nobility is proven in deed, not pedigree.


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## el-remmen (Jan 26, 2007)

I just wanted to stop by and give my hearty endorsement to this story hour, and say how I am really looking forward to another point of view on the events of a campaign I am running.

I have started work on a more comprehensive story hour for the game, and it will be interesting to see how Bleys' entries' perspective will differ from the "what really happened" version. 

I put "what really happened" in quotes because we know that sometimes story hours are often better at capturing the spiritual truth of a game, but not as good at the literal truth - if only because, being human, our memories and note-taking abilities are flawed.

Anyway, I am in the funny position of being eager to read more of this, but being the one who runs the game, and knowing there is no more of this to be posted yet. . . 

Our next game is Superbowl Sunday!


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## Manzanita (Jan 26, 2007)

Hey - what I always like to see is a rogue's gallary entry.  El Remen has all sorts of other stuff to recall, but perhaps you could make an entry for your PC at first level, and at each level up in this thread, Rastfar.

Looking forward to this blog & storyhour to come!


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## el-remmen (Jan 27, 2007)

Manzanita said:
			
		

> what I always like to see is a rogue's gallery entry.




Well, I don't have anything posted for Bleys on the wiki, stat block-wise, but two of the other characters' players have posted theirs:

Laarus Raymer of Ra, House Raymer
Timotheus Smith of House Briareus


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## Rastfar (Feb 7, 2007)

11, Sek 637 M.Y.

And so it begins.  Finally, we have left Sluetelot behind and I ca not help but be thankful for it was none to soon.  Any longer there and I fear that we might never have left before being out of funds and any number of our members standing trials, engaged in duels, or in debt one way or another.  Euleria was able to secure us an extra pack horse, despite our last minute request, such that we might more evenly distribute our load, making our pace more expeditious.  She has proven highly efficient, our greatest boon to be sure.  Care of the animal has fallen to me, rather no one else seemed up to the task.  I do not mind.  In fact, I enjoy it.  Even tonight, as I groomed my own steed and the chore horse, I found comfort in knowing we are now out doing good for the country.  As Markos and I have drawn the first watch together, I am somewhat glad.  He seems not to mind being left alone.  We need not make awkward conversation.  And apparently he is something of an intellectual as well, I spy him reading a tome of some kind with drawings and diagrams.  I am yet unable to make its purpose or subject matter.  Perhaps I will ask him in the future.  He did show an eagerness to learn and an aptitude for application.  As I set about cleaning the horses, Markos approached me.  I did not mind.  He asked me what I was doing, and why.  I explained to him the necessity of caring for the animals and maintaining their well-being, the level of detail involved, the importance of being thorough.  He seemed to absorb it all like a sponge, quickly tending to his own horse and those of the others.  Fortunately for us both, our magics make doing so a possible task in a brief period of time, but nonetheless I still don’t like that he volunteered to look after everyone else’s steed.  I made sure to tell him so.

The day passed uneventfully.  While at the stables, we were able to learn that prevalent knowledge places Barakis the Brown alone on the Beach Road at the time of his unfortunate incident.  Supposedly he was ambushed by bandits.  I’m not sure that I believe much of this rumour.  Perhaps even the locale being a fabrication.  On our way out of town I marveled at the engineering of the bridge over the canal on the southerly road.  Apparently, hinged metal plates were affixed to hold it’s center, in such a fashion that they could be raised in the event of a tall-masted ship traveling through.  I did not notice if anyone else was, but I was impressed.

We have taken the Beach Road.  Timotheus at least yearns for the opportunity ‘to test ourselves’.  While I don’t mind an engagement, I don’t think I long for one either, or any for that matter.  Even a seasoned veteran such as he must know that not every fight can be won.  I know Telemakhos shares my hesitation, being the only voice against our current route.

We were able to eat the lunch given to us by Barton Digits and in the afternoon we happened across some fisherman close to shore.  Telemakhos spoke with them.  They warned us of the colloquial dangers – ‘greenbacks’ and ‘froggies’.  By their inference I am forced to assume they mean lizardmen and bullywugs.  I know not of the latter, but the former at least are protected by the Thrician Racial Covenant.  I question how much of their story is strictly fear and how much is truth.  They provided us with fish so we were able to escape yet having to dine on naught but trail bread.  Not that I mind the flavor too much, its bland variety puts me in the mood for adventure.


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## Rastfar (Feb 12, 2007)

12, Sek 637 M.Y.

Mornings are to be a busy time for us: Laarus and Victoria both observe their holy prayers and rituals, Markos and I dedicate time to poring over our tomes, and Timotheus and Telemakhos stretch, spar, and exercise.  I would very much prefer it if I could only take two hours of the first watch and then wake up early, halfway through our third watch so that I might still accomplish my chores in the evening and yet find time to my necessities in the morning, allowing me to join the veteran warrior in his instruction of my brother-in-law.  This may take some arranging but I’d be foolish not to try and learn more of what he has to instruct.  He even carries a saber as I do, and seems keen to stress defensive maneuvering more often than offensive.  Or perhaps this is the devotion of his pupil.

As we travel during the day I ride next to Victoria, bringing up the rear behind Telemakhos and Markos.  Timotheus and Laarus ride out in front.  This ‘formation’ has been designated by Timotheus.  She does not speak to me much, but I guess she does not speak much at all.  As I understand it, her House – the Ostranders – are at odds with the Briareus and Raymer Houses.  Or mayhap she thinks me beneath her, for even her noble upbringing is evident in her action and manner of speaking to others.  As we left town yesterday she took full advantage of our steward making her race about town in order to secure some last minute provisioning.  I am not sure if this is a lack of foresight or certain expectations being unmet, regardless her tongue and demeanor are as stern as her spine.  While my day was spent mostly in silence in my own quiet musings, I have found myself enjoying the road and still relish the action I know to come.

During my watch I have again tended to my horse and the pack animal.  The others have continuously ignored theirs.  Markos has again tended to the other five steeds.  He has caught on quickly, needing only minimal guidance from me tonight, however, I was sure to again express my disdain for him assuming the others’ workload.


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## el-remmen (Feb 17, 2007)

I eagerly await the next entry. . .

In the meantime allow me to provide a link to Second Son of a Second Son: Timotheus' Prayers for an alternate point of view of these events and impressions.

The "main" Second Son of a Second Son story hour should begin in about a weeks' time.


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## Rastfar (Feb 24, 2007)

14, Sek 637 M.Y.

I never wanted to go into Wringneck’s tavern, so of course they did.  If we had only ridden another 3 or 4 hours we’d be in New Harbinger right now, not camped out on some muddy knoll across from what I suspect to be an old Sun-Ra Kingdom fort.  Already we have pushed our horses to the limit to get here, so if a score or more lizardfolk come pouring out of its crumbling gates intent upon making jerky of us, we will be forced to fight.  I hope the others are light sleepers.

‘I told you so.’

So, how did we get here?  It has been a full day.  It started off promising enough.

I was mildly pleased that Markos had the gumption to inform the others that he had no longer be tending to their steeds at night.  It was two days too long in my opinion.  By mid-morning we had passed the signs of riders, dust plumes moving opposite of us, on the hill above to our right.  We also knew that to our west somewhere was the High Road, but were unable to determine whether this route was where the billowing curls were originating from.  They passed without incident though we braced for contact.  Shortly thereafter, we were approached by more riders on the Beach Road.  The approaching wave of steed driven smoke belied their number.  They flew the colours of House Swann, so I quickly loaded my crossbow.  Telemakhos had the same thought as I, knowing standards can easily be stolen, misrepresented, or part of an ambush, and made to ready his crossbow as well.  Victoria spurred her horse forward and Timotheus rode out with her.

They spoke at some length before riding off.  It appears that they were in pursuit of some bandits that were operating in the local area.  As aid, Victoria offered them word of our earlier sighting.  I now wonder if it was sign of the very same bandits that we’d spotted then.  And if so, are these possibly the bandits that may have had something to do with the death of my fellow alumnus.  If I do not get the chance to investigate I must at least recall these events to Sir Abberd.

By the end of the evening we approached a fork where apparently both the Beach and High Roads merge again into one before continuing on south to New Harbinger, the seat of House Swann.  It was at this crossroads that our destiny was to change for the unforeseen.  What I assumed would be called Sludge Town was indeed not far from the truth; the collective of mud covered huts and structures held together by sheer force of will and moss could hardly be called civilization, or its people civil for that matter.  I got sheckies just looking at the tavern here in Bog End.  Before we could get close enough to the fetid nadir of propriety, I figured it would be in our best interest to ask one of the local denizens how far we were from our destination.  I didn’t move fast enough.

No sooner had I turned to walk back to my horse, then the raucous laughter from the floating publick house had turned into the tell tale cacophony of a common room brawl.  Here came Timotheus dragging out some whelp by the scruff of his collar.  The audacity of those people, even a war-horse did not daunt them.  Despite Laarus’ best efforts to exert the authority due his class over the rabble-rousers, and my best efforts to abet them; yet they insisted on civil unrest.  Making peace with the fact that a firm hand was probably better served than diplomacy in the situation, I made the acquaintance of Wallaby while waiting for the others to conclude their fisticuffs.

Valerius is an eager young squire to Sir Quintus Gosprey.  He had been on the receiving end of a sound thrashing when the others stepped in to save him.  Apparently, he was in search of a party from the wrong caste of the community.  His master has been abducted by lizardfolk, or so he believes, in the swamp not far from here.  I feel that some other series of events may be stirring.  Victoria, Laarus and Timotheus were ensorcelled by the young lad’s story and opted to leave immediately, despite nightfall, into unknown bog waters, to search out the waylaid knight.  Markos and I gave voice to reason, imploring them not to bend to passion.  I still maintain that if these captors were indeed meaning to do Quintus harm they’d have done so already.  But for some reason, Telemakhos agreed with the majority, forcing our march.  This course of action boggles me; I can’t fathom why the coward would vote so.

There are too many questions with too few answers to satisfy them.  Why was Sir Quintus meeting lizardmen in the swamp?  Near dusk?  Alone?  Why did they not just attack from cover if they meant him harm?  Why would they allow Valerius to escape?  Surely if they’d desired to do him harm, they could have easily surrounded the two or prevented the squire’s withdrawal at least.  Is Quintus indeed a reputable man, or a base cur who stoops to beating his wenches?  If the latter, is it possible that he is in league with the bandits House Swann searches for?  Or even leading them?

Telemakhos hired us one of the locals whom he was beating up on only a few minutes before to guide us out here - Tavius.  We spent the better part of the night following a track used by the people of Bog End for fishing and such.  It appears that no one else came prepared as only Laarus had a lantern and I torches.  As we proceeded we came upon the area where Valerius detailed the account, and indeed the mount was still there.  Unfortunately, it was beyond salvation: stuck chest deep in muck and already wounded.  Some small species of reptile that apparently dwelled in the area had found it before us and found the horse too tasty an opportunity to pass by.  The myriad vermin quickly dragged it down, fighting us the while, as if our mere presence exacerbated their blood-lust.  What a pity, I am sure it was a fine animal and I hate to witness it come to such an ignoble end.

We continued on.  Some hours later, after Telemakhos proved his inexperience as a rider, we made our way out here.  If we live through this, someone must surely teach him basic horsemanship.  There is running water which makes me assume this is the edge of the mainland, perhaps we are in an immense submerged delta that contributes to the Drei-Hoek Bay.  Upon reaching the scrubby plain in front of the dilapidated fort I announced our presence.  Bolstered by the glorious light of Ra I called upon the Thrician Racial Covenant, to parley with lizardfolk inside.  I do not know if we are fortunate, but it does not hold for this group of lizardfolk who refuse to recognize it.  After a brief and crude exchange we were able to determine this: they do have Quintus, and they will not let us see him.

As to what the rest of the day’s events shall bear, I am fretful.  Isis protect us.


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## Rastfar (Mar 6, 2007)

14, Sek 637 M.Y.

Laarus is an eager fellow.  His zeal committed us to a course of action: one that which we were not all agreed upon.  Tactically not a sound decision, I’m sure Timotheus and Victoria would agree.  And now Argos is dead.  When Victoria regains her wits, I’m sure she will be sour and chagrined, but I am unable to ascertain how long that plant’s toxin will course through her veins.  Fortunately, none other of our number found such their fate, though Timotheus did certainly come close to awaiting Osiris’ judgment.  We felled three of their number, before we could reach an accord.  Afterwards of course, we were only able to bind two of them, the last, his wounds proved too grievous for me to bind.  I will say this for the warrior, he lays lacerations which are sure and run deep.

‘No plan survives contact with the enemy.’

As I suspected, they do hold Sir Quintus of his own volition, confirming this blood shed was entirely unnecessary.  He is enduring something known as the 'Shannis effect', under the care and protection of the Golden Straw Tribe, whom he manipulated to his ends.  The knight has debased himself by becoming addicted to this drug which clouds his mind and judgment.

As I understand it, this is the background which has been provided us.  Shannis is derived from the pollen of a plant here, which the lizardfolk can harvest safely being immune to its mind-addling effects.  The pollen, once harvested, is somehow combined with some variant of mushroom spores, collected from somewhere else near here, by someone else.  I do recall someone, Tavius perhaps, mentioning a hermit who lived in the bog and sang to his mushrooms.  He may be said person.  I shall have to recall to look into this as well.

The Gold Straw tribe of lizardmen has recently moved into the vicinity, escaping the more deadly contested Disputed Territories.  They had been harvesting this pollen but decided they would stop.  They encountered Sir Quintus who promised to speak to young Lord Swann on their behalf.  They wish to pledge their fealty and pay tribute to him in exchange for protection and the grant of lands.  Frankly, I think this an exceptional boon to the House, as these lands are near uninhabitable anyway, even for the hardy folk of Bog End.  A tribe of lizardmen acting as scouts, couriers, and harriers in times of war, would be an asset indeed, at the least, opening the Beach Road to trade would prove profitable.

Some drug merchants came about looking for the Shannis.  Sir Quintus Gosprey encountered the drug traffickers, whom have also been incorrectly referred to as bandits, and decided that he would aid them fearing that if they did not receive what they were after they would return, perhaps in greater numbers, and make a great deal of trouble.  In his attempts to allay their suspicions, and get closer to their members, even so far as to uncover who their leader may be, he became addicted to the Shannis.  Embarrassed, rightly so, at the way he had conducted himself, he turned to the lizardfolk for aid.  He asked to be sequestered until such time as he was able to break the drugs’ physical grasp upon him.  In exchange he vowed to speak to Lord Swann on their behalf, something he’d promised to do for quite some time already.  Needless to say these lizardfolk are unamused and distrusting of all our kind.  Human words no longer carry weight for them.  I have promised to bear this message for them, personally, and encouraged them to recognize the Thrician Racial Covenant.  I only hope Lord Swann can see the benefit for himself.

In the back of my mind I still feel that someone, Sir Quintus perhaps, did also refer to these bandits, these drug smugglers as pirates.  Pirates are plenty, but might these be the same tied to the Tribunisport plot?  MacHaven is the drug merchant leader and Connduel is his contact in Tribunisport.  I must remember to learn what more I can of these men.


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## Rastfar (Mar 17, 2007)




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## BlackCat (Mar 22, 2007)

RUINED!!! DOOOOMMMMMM!!!

I cast DOOM upon ye, bad sir! Thy spoilers do reek! Reek, I say.

Just kidding! Looking forward to more. Despite my observations on said main SH, I enjoy Bleys' point of view immensely. I really look forward to his growth as a person and Watch- Mage.

Jon


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## Rastfar (Mar 26, 2007)

15, Sek 637 M.Y.  

Now I wonder: if these lizardmen are new to the area and are harvesting this pollen, who did they sell or trade it to before?  Who did the drug smugglers acquire it from before Sir Quintus?  Who harvested it before the Gold Straw tribe moved in?  Surely there must be other sources.  Obviously this toxic plague will only be cured by burning out the carriers.

At least Valerius’ heart knows its place, if not his mouth.  He is a tenacious, courageous, insightful young man. He shows initiative.  He would be an otherwise exceptional squire, were it not for his incessant puling outbursts.  Sir Quintus does not deserve him.  Were I a knight I would have long ago lavished him with praise and curbed his tongue.  I must be sure to speak with him in private before we part ways.  I feel I owe him an explanation.

I spend much of my spare time today in thought.  None of us seem to have too much to say to one another.  Victoria still bears some looking after and I am all too glad to do it, as Valerius has taken over the duties of tending our horses.  I have naught more to say to Sir Quintus, and the lizardfolk seem to be about tending their daily routine.  Odd customs they have.  They’ve taken to eating their fallen companion.  Surely they are skilled enough hunters, not needing to resort to cannabilism.  I see Timotheus is as anxious as I, and looking to spar.  I shall avail myself of his tutelage.


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## Rastfar (Mar 27, 2007)

15, Sek 637 M.Y.

Victoria has regained enough wisdom to know when she is being insulted.  Perhaps exacerbated by the loss of Argos, she would brook the verbal salvo from Markos no longer.  Their scrap ended with her leaving the smaller man unconscious.  Though I agree with some of his sentiment, he deserved it.

‘You can tell whether a man is clever by his answers. You can tell whether a man is wise by his questions.’

As I sit and listen to the cajoling and moaning of Sir Quintus these last few days, it occurs to me that he is symptomatic of some larger problem.  How is it that this Shannis has such an enduring effect, one that can run so deep, yet the local constabulary has allowed this drug to be procured in the area?  Who is harvesting it all?  Where is it produced?  How do individuals even come to fathom combining the two ingredients in order to create the drug?  Surely, it must be some new dilemma, for no Noble House would allow such a plague to fall upon its peoples for long.  I must assume that as soon as this new threat to the people was discovered in the region Sir Quintus was the first to spearhead the stem of its growth.  Perhaps he deserves some pity as he may not have entirely understood what it was he was getting himself into.


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## Rastfar (Mar 28, 2007)

16, Sek 637 M.Y.

I used to believe in a lot of things.  I realize now that they may have all been childhood dreams.  The misperceptions that are becoming clear to me are disturbing to say the least.  They clarify my thoughts.  But I must continue to believe that they can not all be true; that there is still some hope for the ideals I held dear.  I once wished to be the knight in shining armour; a stout warrior, as my father, my brother before me, to make them proud.  To ride high on a horse, protector of the people, bringing justice for the innocent, a protector of all things Thricia.  My first real encounters with knights have proven them to be anything but, with one exception.  I hope Sir Lionel is the paragon I aspire to be.  Sir Agamemnon seems not the type; Sir Quintus is a disappointment for sure.  And while I never wanted to attend the Academy of Wizardry, I find some solace in the fact that many of the virtues they tout are so akin to mine own personal standards.

Alas, father had another design for me and off to school I was sent.  I still do not know how it was arranged that I was to be mentored by Sir Abberd Schemerhorn, but for that I am grateful.  Despite my reticence, I came to enjoy my time in the Golden Tower of the West.  Though I was forced to return after my third year at the Academy for further tutelage, I welcomed his company, if not his scolding.  Yet, at times like this, I even miss that.  He gives me hope that there may yet be some purpose I can serve as an Eldritch Knight, as he does.


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## Rastfar (Mar 29, 2007)

16, Sek 637 M.Y.

We have been anesthetized with boredom.  Still we tarry; awaiting the release of Sir Quintus as now we are to accompany him as he holds audience with the Lord Swann.  And Markos, does he not realize that his continual redundancies belie his intelligence?  But I guess I can not expect more.  He is not the only impetuous youth with whom I must now suffer; I find them intolerable, exacerbated in packs.

Perhaps my disdain for Telemakhos is unfounded.  Or rather, maybe he should not have to endure its wrath as he may not understand my reasoning for it.  But as I see it, he should not be here at all.  He should be home, ward for my niece and nephew, ensuring that my sister is well cared for.  And while I know that it was not he whom married Paulien, he is their closest relative.  Surely Sir Agamemnon has many other duties to tend to and is above the responsibility.  And of course, even I know that it is impossible for my sister, Spiro and Anders to return home to the Roost.  How isolated they must feel, detached, disconnected.  They must be so lonely.  I pray Isis watch over them and grant Paulien strength.


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## Rastfar (Mar 30, 2007)

16, Sek 637 M.Y.

Timotheus is anxious to invoke some name for this group of adventurers that we are.  I do not know that we are necessarily in need of a designation in order to succeed at our responsibilities, though I imagine it must be some homage to the romantic notion of days since past.  Heroes of lore as such; still Sorlorn and Amarantha are yet known names to date, having never enjoyed greater glory in a cabal.  As it stands some part of his suggestion must ring true in my ear, for I too now ponder it, and as of now even write my reflections.  Perhaps all this introspection into my beliefs has impelled me.

Are we not supposed to be the measure of all that is true?  The measure of all that is virtuous?  The measure of duty, honor, strength, loyalty, compassion, courage, mercy, righteousness?  Our birth rank, caste, social standing, verily the Charter we all did eagerly sign, demand it of us.  To be noble of blood is not enough; we must be noble in deed.  For we are the measure by which all Thricia is judged.  We are the measure which the common man looks up to, adheres to, and strives to become.  And in honour to, and to remind us of that measure, I say that we should strive to become: *The Measure*.

‘There is nothing noble in being superior to someone else.  Real nobility is derived from being superior to yourself.’


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## BlackCat (Mar 30, 2007)

*The Measure*

If you don't mind my saying, I personally think that ROCKS! That of course means that everyone else in the party is sure to shoot it down.

I'm enjoying the inner thoughts and beliefs revealed here as opposed to the objective storytelling in the main SH. Very often it's hard to portray the true motivations of any given character, especially one as complicated as Bleys seems to be. You want to give hints but not be too forthcoming.

So far, so good. More, please. I'm very interested in his reactions to New Harbinger and the Swanns. Can't wait to meet Lord Swann himself.


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## Rastfar (Apr 2, 2007)

17, Sek 637 M.Y.

We have returned to civilization and I can not say that I am overjoyed, though it is certainly not as dreary as our stay in the bog.  There must be more thrills in truth to the epic tales of adventure and exploration than this.  As I abide it now, we merely travel from city to town, wagging political tongues and nary lift a hand toward the betterment of Thricia.  I remain cautiously optimistic.  Perhaps this is why the Margrave has assigned me to the Charter: knowing my design, hoping I may in some way drive us from royal courts and feasting halls to frontier lands and ill-omened warrens, pursuing our motherland’s greater good.

As suspected Sir Quintus was more concerned with his own reputation than his word to us.  Promptly upon our arrival at the gate, he took liberty to have leave of us, deigning it more important to speak to Lord Swann alone.  I doubt any such thing will occur, or if it does, he has at least broken his vow to allow us bear witness on behalf of the Gold Straw Tribe.  Apparently, his pride is more important to him than his honour.  I shall be anxious to see what comes of it at this dinner party tomorrow evening.

I have learned a little more about the Disputed Territories from the Watch-Mage here, Oroleniel the Salmon.  He informs me that a band of adventurers recently returned from said area with sleds in tow.  Apparently, they had encountered some fanatics of the Red God and two of their number met their end.  Others were badly beaten.  Numbering amongst their nine, more than we, were a Moon-Priestess and a Cleric of the Hammer God.  We will need to be more vulpine than they should we have hopes of all returning alive.  

I barely remember the half-elf from the Academy as he was a few years my senior.  He is certainly lonely though. I shall look in on him tomorrow day, perhaps bringing some company.  I could not endure his hare-quick nattering long.

Euleria continually impresses me.  Besides having the heart to rescue a boy to serve as our porter, she has hired two mercenaries who seem well-suited to our task: Falco and Dunleavy.  Though some part of me still remains concerned for their well-being; Timotheus assures me that they know what jeopardy to expect for their coin, and a goodly sum it is.  Unfortunately, the more we dawdle about the longer we squander their three daily silvers.  We certainly can not go to Tribunisport now, or purchase ferry passage for them, let alone pay them to stand about as we investigate rumours.  I do not recall there being a vote taken to use group funds toward hiring these men.  What a fool’s idea.

Our rooms are unused dungeon cells.  At least they removed the locks from the doors.

‘There are two kinds of men who never amount to much:  those who cannot do what they are told and those who can do nothing else.’


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## BlackCat (Apr 4, 2007)

Better keep on Sir Quintas' ass. He seems the type to try to evade. I do sort of feel bad for him but that's only because he seems a tad pathetic and knights shouldn't be that.

I look forward to his impressions of more of the Swann family.


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## Rastfar (Apr 18, 2007)

18, Sek 637 M.Y

Again Laarus has placed me in awkward position.  I respect his station as ordained by Ra, but I must also show deference to a fellow Academy mage in his post.  Fortunately, I believe that I have remedied the gauche unpleasantries.  And I am glad that I did later return, as I have gleaned more specifically on the nature of the Kingstones.  

They are the olden tombs of barbarian kings who reigned, in what we now call the Disputed Territories, shortly before the Time of the Six Kingdoms.  These caves have been unsealed and ransacked; used by various humanoids as homes, some of which have dug to connect the tomb entrances with deeper lairs.  Long ago many orcs lived in the area, but most were wiped out during the Second Humano-Orc War.  Now the Kingstones are mostly utilized by a goblin tribe of some vowel-filled mouthful of syllables, and the odd ogre.  

It seems that a barbarian tribe called the ‘Ray-Ree’ patrol the area.  At one time they guarded the tomb as their duty; but as they either failed or gave it up, they still regard the general area as their hunting and living grounds.  I am hopeful that this last bit of information is exactly the benefit we need.  My aim is that we should be cunning enough to use this situation to our tactical advantage and make allies of these barbarians.  For if indeed I am to believe what I have been told; then it is in the interest of the Ray-Ree to aid us in, or rather in our interest to aid them, in the cleansing of the Kingstones.  Of course the trouble shall come in attempting to make them see the merit in our proposition.  Especially given my present company.  Laarus alone harbors disdainful opinion of the uncivilized ‘greenbacks’.  I fear it is indicative of other prejudice which may colour any negotiations with the barbarians, human or otherwise.  We shall see.

Young Lord Swann seems to enjoy the ceremony and circumstance accompanying his appointment.  He is certainly comfortable with his newly assumed mantle; indeed it his glib talk of politics and the role he shall play in their future which unnerve me.  His favor goes to Sir Septimias Benedict Swann and this concerns me more, as the knight is the House vassal assigned such negotiations.  The Gold Straw tribe would find diplomacy difficult at best.  It is obvious that ‘the Lizardbane’ wouldn’t mind adding a few more trophies to his repute, going so far to ask where there tribe was located.  I should have interceded, assured the Lord such trivial matters were best left to those who’d time for these things; not assigned to his prize winning murderer.  As it was left, he assured me a place in the Lizardbane’s company.  I do not know if I could bear to lead the knight out there, to see the queer expression on Chok’tem’s face as he attempted to discern why, again, these humans thought it alright to lie to him, to hear their screams as a host of warriors descended on them, all the while the lizardman knowing I broke my oath to them.

I do realize that I put the rest of the group in an impossible situation, involuntarily asking them to tarry here while I saw to the end of the task I enlisted myself too.  In an effort to be expeditious and realizing that indeed, even after our passage, this is really a concern for the local watch-mage, and as such is his jurisdiction, I consulted with Oroleniel.  He offered sound advice.  I am to invoke a clause in which precedent exists where the half-elf will stand in my stead as it is a matter of seniority.   I am sure that Lord Swann will find this arrangement agreeable.

Laarus has exhibited illness three times now.  First on the eve of the 10th, then yesterday during our ride here, and now this evening as we congregated after dinner.  Either he has a weak constitution or there is some malady more foul at work.  I hope for our sake that it is the former, and not my paranoia of the latter; the fate that befell my mother was an end most unbecoming.  Not to mention what it reveals of piety.


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## Rastfar (Apr 25, 2007)

19 Sek, 637 M.Y.

Again the vote has turned against me.  As I ponder on it now, I realize only once did I find myself in the majority, and then only Telemakhos opposed the Beach Road.  Obviously there is no accounting for the acumen of others.

If I only had the funds I would be able to scribe _Detect Secret Doors_ from Oroleniel, truly a rare spell in my focus.  And one that may prove quite effective if our forays found us near the Kingstones.  I will have to return to learn this spell in the future.  It would have been nice to have secured some of that Pinesmoke for the road.

For now we wait.  Telemakhos tends to some final needs.  We have passage on an overnight ferry to Tribunisport.  The Winter home.  And still the clandestine nature of our operation prevents my announcement.  I do long to see it again, as I have forgotten much of my only prior trip there.  I was still just a young boy then. 

But at the same time my excitement is stymied by the intelligence of this plot against the Wetherwax fleet.  Telemakhos postulates that just such an attack will be initiated from Kraken’s Cove, the inference of which leads one to believe it physical.  But I am contemplating another outcome.  How may this attack be conducted with firm words instead of fire and swords?  Here is the advantage, where one can skulk, recoil from their backstabbing, and vanish, none the wiser.  I will need consultation to this end.  But none of my companions seem apt to the task, save one.  I do not trust Telemakhos, but I may need his knowledge of intrigue more than my complicity in ignorance.

There are more than a few Winters in service of the RMN fleet, and any threat is one that jeopardizes them.  I find myself in a terrible position.  Proud to Serve – this is the motto of House Devenpeck.  They are dutiful, as am I.  I just don’t know to whom I must pay my allegiance to.

‘When you settle for less than you deserve, you get less than you settled for.’


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## el-remmen (Apr 27, 2007)

It is great to read this stuff and get more insight into Bleys. 

His musings on Telie are echoing the scene I am currently working on for the write up of Session #7, so it was particularly helpfully.


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## Rastfar (May 2, 2007)

20 Sek, 637 M.Y.

We have not yet been together a fortnight and yet it feels longer.  I imagine that despite the brevity, the time I have spent with these people serves to make the events occurring within that period more significant.  In this way it is easier to learn more of an individual than in three seasons of casual interaction.  Perhaps this is why Timotheus goads me.  I must somehow provoke him unknowingly: such that he seeks to enlist my ire.  I would be wont to cross more than words with him, though he is a seasoned soldier and would surely show me my humility.  And I concede that he chafes me, but I had not a notion that my derision was so extroverted.

For every time he insists on calling me eggplant, he does no disservice to me, but rather one to those who sought to colour me.  He insults my fellow alumni, the naming tradition, and the very Academy of Wizardry itself.  For I had no part in becoming in the Aubergine, beyond which my fellow classmates saw it of me; and while he may not be able to change being baseborn, having the poor opinion of a Watch-Mage, or a lack of intellectual scope, I took no part in making him that way.  It is my hope that by ignoring his slander and continuing to set a higher example, one of value, merit, and caliber, that he can learn of virtue from me as I can expand on my knowledge of tactics and martial skills as instructed by him.  My fear is that he derives his courage from liquor, his strength found in the fathoms of a flagon.  He has a fondness for the drink rivaled only by those who bear great burdens of woe.  Even as we travel he is sure to press a flask to his lips. 

Is it that I volunteered to share a room with Victoria?  Did he wish for some other design?
In truth it would have been most appropriate for Laarus to share her accommodations, but I was loathe to share with Timotheus and still a trifle resentful of Laarus for his impertinence with Oroleniel.  Victoria does not speak much and we get along well enough.  She does not mince words, nor hesitate to speak her mind.  She is curt and upstanding, if a bit stiff.  I find her to be honorable, forthright, and we are in agreement the majority of the time.  I would not have preferred to while away the time with anyone else, awaiting the determination of heir Briareus’ scheming.

My only wish is that Telemakhos is not leading us into a situation proving more than we are equipped to handle.  While his intentions may be philanthropic, it is possible that he has been fleeced.  As it is his custom to only satisfy the will of those that would gratify his own, I do not expect that his judgment shall prove shrewd.  I anticipate we will be in dire peril shortly after our arrival.


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## el-remmen (May 2, 2007)

I think that was the best entry yet!


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## Rastfar (May 12, 2007)

21 Sek, 637 M.Y.

This has all been a mistake.  Telémahkos was set up.  It turns out the real reason his source wanted us to come here was to assassinate someone.  He pulled a square of paper from his belt with the name Harliss Javel on it shortly after confessing.  Now we are besieged by these smugglers turned bullywug, smugglywugs as Timotheus aptly dubbed them, and we have no idea as to the depth of their number.  There could have been five score or more men in those caverns.  Though there is a fair amount of evidence to suggest that there was a great deal of in-fighting before our arrival.

At present my dilemma is one of the greatest importance.  As of yet, we have no way to determine what is the cause of the transformation in these poor souls.  If it is some curse, plague, virus, or disease, should we flee, we could communicate it to the rest of the Thrician populace.  And then who knows when it would stop.  If my suspicions prove correct, and I pray Isis they do not, then it is best that this nefarious infection die here, with us.  Am I prepared to see the others dead to do so?  Have I the mettle to set my steel to the task?  I know not.  I only know that I shall reserve the energies I have until I am able to discern more definitively which course to pursue.  May the Mother bless us, as she shone upon my watch tonight, and may the rise of Matet bring more light to our situation.


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## Rastfar (Jun 5, 2007)

22 Sek, 637 M.Y.

I have had cause and opportunity to reacquaint myself with Telemakhos.  And I am glad for having done so.  While he may be a fool for love, perhaps his reputation is a bit undeserving.  Beneath his socially affable and whimsical exterior lies a contemplative and caring young man.  He has keen insight, if poor decision making processes, and is perceptive in the manners of man’s mischiefs.  I have decided to trust him with the secret I now bear, though he did not realize the full implication of its meaning, or perhaps is more coy than I realize.  I feel better having confided in him despite my instincts to mistrust his ability to maintain secrecy.  I must assume that it is Paulien and the children that give comfort as to his word to me.

With Telemakhos’ aid I am now able to begin spinning scenarios in which the plot against House Wetherwax may be consummated.  Upon our return to the cove, I must remember to uncover the names of the sunken vessels.  Perhaps one will lend clues to unraveling such a plot.  Perhaps one of the sunken vessels was captured from House Wetherwax, or the RMN, and was to be used to some malevolent end.  Would this not lend the evidence needed against House Wetherwax to wrest control of the RMN from them?

I have confided in my brother-in-law that what information I do have implies a list of charges to be brought against the Wetherwax House in the Royal Courts.  In an effort to help make the charges more convincing, some maneuvering must be done in proper political circles, in order to lay false accusation and unjust claims at the Tribunisport doorstep.  The plan involves secrecy to be sure and a swift indictment so that House Wetherwax should have little to no time to develop a cohesive defense.

My only fear is that those who know of my knowledge shall cease to be comfortable with me as a loose end.  Or perhaps, intend to use me as a patsy or pawn in their game.  Involving Telemakhos may endanger him the same.  Or any others I should confide in.  I am hesitant to approach the wrong individual in confidence, as perhaps they may even be a part of the plot.  I wish I knew the proper course of action, but I daresay, I am uncertain whether I could even entertain confidence in my father.  As Telemakhos has made me peer into the pool of political possibilities, I begin to see the many faces in its facets.  Perhaps an audience with the Margrave herself?   

‘All truths are easy to understand once discovered; the endeavor is to discover them.’


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## Rastfar (Jun 14, 2007)

23 Sek, 637 M.Y.

We have cleared the cove.  Again we wait for the recovery of the fallen.  Telemakhos, Markos, and I have recovered what salvageable we can and slowly they load the _Sea Wyvern_.  Still we have no sign of whoever was building that raft.  They are either hiding well or were eaten.  At least I am fairly certain that we are in no danger of infection.

I am intrigued by these folios.  They were warded by a glyph, housed in a glass case, I must assume in an attempt to preserve from these harsher briny elements.  The room itself was as a trophy room, bearing large mandibles, skulls, and nameplates of ships, lending some other explanation.  They emanate magic from within; perhaps they are only the housing for some greater treasure.  While I am anxious to unlock the secrets therein, this is neither the time nor place for such potentially dangerous endeavours.

I tend to the fallen.  Never have I been more glad to have paid attention in the field medicine classes at the Academy, and I would wager, nor have my companions.  My bandage supply does run low.

Upon our return to Tribunisport, I must remember to report having found the final fate of the _RMN Sea-Tamer_.  It appears that Misery Tlalok’s _Striking Shadow_ did its work well.


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## Rastfar (Jun 15, 2007)

23 Sek, 637 M.Y.

Harliss Javel.  I have written it down, so she shall not be forgotten.  Her story has more holes than her ship, the _Fast Facet_, which now lies in the silt.  As she tells it, the woman is the sole survivor of the savagery committed here.  

Harliss was hired to transport a black pearl of some magical power to Kraken’s Cove.  By whom remains a mystery to me.  I assume this was so Leemo Varand could investigate it.  As it turns out Vanthus Vanderboren was privy to this information, happened to stow away on her ship with his lover, and attempted its theft coincidentally with the _Fast Facet_’s arrival at the cove.  Harliss caught and confronted him.  They fought.  By coming into contact with the pearl, the blood Harliss drew from Vanthus initated a curse causing many of the cove’s inhabitants to mutate into caustic smuggliwug creatures.  She, nor Vanthus, of course, did not.  Amazingly, he was able to escape with daring feats of leaping and swimming.  Harliss now informs us that this pearl is also a rare religious artifact to bullywugs.  Whom, of all habitations in Thricia, just so happen to dwell not too far from this cove.  Convenient.  Enraged Harliss sent her first mate, a half-orc named Drevoraz, who luckily also escaped the magical smuggliwug curse, to convince these bullywugs that Vanthus has stolen their precious pearl.  He must be one charismatic half-orc pirate.  Fortunately, Drevoraz knows just where to find these bullywug fanatics and happens to have another ship waiting in the wings somewhere, since now the _Fast Facet_ has sunk.  Supposedly, they are all now en route to the Vanderboren manse to deliver Harliss’ revenge upon Lady Lavinia and any other poor unfortunates whom they may find there.  As it happens, should we leave right away, we may be able to catch them.  Circumstantial at best.  This is the story that Harliss has convinced Telemakhos and Markos of.  These are the words of a confessed criminal, that we throw caution to the wind for.  This is the pack of lies that we risk the life of Laarus for.  Another eight hours and we would be at our full compliment again.  Timotheus sees nothing left to kill, so is ready to flee.  But, I am astonished that Victoria does not stand with me in this, even granting Harliss her sworn shield.  How can she believe that Harliss is conveniently going to spoon feed us all of this time sensitive information, despite viewing us as a threat to her plans for vengeance?  That is hardly worth transport to Quillton proper.  Something is amiss. 

And still there are many questions.  Why does Markos admire Harliss, and seem to revel at the prospect of Lady Lavinia's murder?  Was the red ship we spotted possibly her first mate’s ship?  Confirmation as such would lend proof to her fable.  Who would trust a smuggler and a pirate to transport a rare valuable relic?  How would Vanthus happen to stow away on her ship?  If I am to believe who Harliss says she is, she would not only know every hand on her own ship, but the mold in every hold.  As we anchored in the ocean for near two days, how did we fail to notice Drevoraz or a ship laden with bullywugs pass by?  Does Harliss seek to hurry us from the cove, knowing the imminent arrival of those she would rather protect?  Are there records of otherwise reputable ships in the recovered ledgers that Markos, and I, believe she holds?  Their perusal would also lend more answers.  Does she seek to claim this cove or other uncovered booty for herself?  Do I trust the hushed tones passed between Markos and this mistress to piracy?  I am certain there is more to be learned here.   

Either he performed an amazing feat of strength or he lies to aid his pirate kin, but after Markos’ plunge into the coves waters he resurfaced with the tale of having found this black pearl’s broken pieces.  Too bad he did not cleverly think to recover the shards.  Their delivery would have gone a long way to convincing any such bullywugs posing a threat to the Vanderboren manse; and me of Harliss’ tall tale. 

‘I see it as my duty to show things as they are, not as they should be.’


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## Telémakhos (Jun 16, 2007)

When's the next one?

Great stuff.


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## Rastfar (Jun 17, 2007)

24 Sek, 637 M.Y.

Laarus would be walking the prow of the ship about now were he not so hastily moved.  As it is, my best hope is that he may recover his relapse in injury on the morrow.  Tymon fares only slightly better.  He is a courageous young man.  And bright, Telemakhos was right to bring him along.  He has temerity in a fight and is intelligent.  I suspect that since he is not a pleasure to look upon, his father uses him as a pawn in his mercantile game.  I wish not to see Tymon sacrificed so.

I do not entirely trust Markos alone with Harliss, especially after his appalling display in the cove.  Too many times has he besmirched his cousin, disgraced the gods and longed for the better days of piracy.  Rather than allow Telemakhos to aid me, I asked him to remain above deck, monitoring the two unsavory characters.

Timotheus at least recovers quick enough; he is made of stern stuff.  And Victoria, while able-bodied, will require attention beyond what I can lend to mend that leg.

As I pass the time in this cramped hold, I try to recall the lessons of the Master of Wards and the Master Seer.  The folios which I have recovered tempt me.  I can detect the presence of a magical aura emanating from within all three.  I believe this will aid me in unlocking their secrets.  Within.  This property is significant in comparison to the folios appearing entirely magical, or holding some dweomer which is wholly undetectable.  Within.  Could they be false holds for some other magical item?  A dagger, vial or medallion perhaps?  The folios appear old, so I would not wish to risk their physical harm, but that could be the ruse, a façade to cleverly disguise the true treasure within.


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## Rastfar (Jun 17, 2007)

25 Sek, 637 M.Y.

The sails are slack and for our want of haste, we drift aimlessly.  There is no way of knowing how long this journey shall take and this ship is small and entirely too cramped.  One can not even stand properly in the hold below deck.  I wished to stretch my legs a bit after tending to the recovery of Laarus and Tymon, so headed to the deck with Timotheus hoping to spar a bit.  I thought the salt air and exercise would be welcome.  We were quickly shooed from the deck as there was scant room for us to maneuver and it would not do to have sharp blades flailing about the rigging.  I know naught of sailing or I would lend aid.  As it is, the best I can hope to do is remain from underfoot and allow Markos to do what he does best.  I admire him for that, sailing is ever the noble pursuit.  Perhaps some day he could show me the ropes.

As best as I can recall from my lessons, were these folios warded by some glyph or rune they would have been activated when I initially handled them.  Because of my limited abilities, I am unable to detect any other immediate clues.


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## el-remmen (Jun 18, 2007)

Perhaps Bleys was confused, but Harliss never said Vanthus stowed away on her ship. 



> “Vanthus Vanderboren contacted me through means of his girlfriend, Brissa Santos. That little bitch has been trolling ports for a merchant’s son for years, and slitting the throats of others on the side, and I figured he was just another of her pigeon’s, but then seemed to be genuinely interested in acquiring… special goods from exotic locations… Let’s say… And then all of a sudden, the two of them are up on the deck of The Eastward Brother spilling whale oil everywhere and setting fires. By the time I got there, they had fought their way onto my ship, The Fast Facet, and made straight for a chest where I kept an item I was transporting… a black pearl bigger than your fist…”


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## Rastfar (Jun 19, 2007)

26 Sek, 637 M.Y.

If it is a _glyph_ I should be able to _read_ it before doing myself any harm.  I suspect that it may indeed be a wizard’s _mark_.  Though there is the possibility that it is instead enchanted with a _glamer_ to make one suspicious, as I am, stalling a swift theft; but I believe then the entire folio would detect as magical.   My hope is that the detection of magic alludes to a _secret page_.  I must be sure not to read any text inside upon opening, as this will cause any warding rune, sigil or glyph to activate.  Should it prove to be trapped with fire though, I risk losing the ledgers and my life.


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## Rastfar (Jun 19, 2007)

26 Sek, 637 M.Y.

As I look back on it now, I see how I was blind to the motivations of others.  In my own self-wallowing I assumed that my companions were all on a course of their own design.  But as Telemakhos confided in me, he remains assigned to the Charter only to please his father.  His cowardice is merely a manifestation of his desire to live life as he would wish, as my self-pity is for mine.  Is it the same for Markos?  Perhaps he too does not wish to be a part of our group.  Such a fool am I, acting the spoiled brat; my hubris forbid me from allowing for others pains.  Do the pressures of familial obligation may weigh more heavily on those of noble blood than those of us who are not?

‘You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.’


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## Rastfar (Jun 19, 2007)

26 Sek, 637 M.Y.

We are running out of water, food will follow on the day after the morrow.  We had better hope that Markos knows how to fish from one of these ships without line or net.


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## Tellerve (Jun 21, 2007)

I'm certainly liking this as I feel I get to better understand where Bleys is coming from.  Lately Telie seems to be taking a majority of the stage, as is to be expected with a personality like his.

Look forward to the journal entry after the Sepia Snake Sigil 

Tellerve


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## Rastfar (Jul 10, 2007)

3 Ter, 637 M.Y.

Maeve Vandermok.  I could love her would that I could trust her surname.  Our time apart has done much to clarify my thoughts on our former relationship.  Should I accept it for its face value and assume no subtlety of intrigue, spy, or manipulation, then I must assume that her aloof demeanour and tepid affections are only a learned defense after having growing up in Vijand.  I suspect that she really wants nothing more than to be known as Maeve the Mauve, adopting her new moniker and a new reputation with it.  To do good as only she can, and to be loved wholly as one desires.  This requires leaving the name Vandermok behind, and by marrying into a family of a less malevolent character, by finding a hero to rescue her from herself she goes a long way toward achieving this goal.  I realize now that she wished me to be that hero.

But did she ever love me?  Or again, is it some subtle manipulation where I happen to be the proper suitor at the appropriate time, possessing of the qualities that serve here own purpose?

I will go to her.  Ask her.  Perhaps I can save her tonight.


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## Rastfar (Jul 16, 2007)

4 Ter, 637 M.Y.

Timotheus and I are two entirely different people.  It is as if we speak separate languages.  I truly do not understand him.  Is it possible for people to be so simple?  He is possessed of a singular purpose.  Hobgoblins.  He finds offense where I offer none and makes playful insult.  Is this an attempt to goad me?  Perhaps bearing witness to the demise of too many comrades has made him linear-minded.  I could not imagine having to remember the names and faces of so many fallen heroes in the name of a cause never won.

I have stumbled upon a treasure far more rare than coinage or jewels.  With the aid of my brother-in-law’s coin, I am able to commission a suit of armour crafted specifically to aid in my particular skill sets.  I am thrilled with the prospect of beginning to meld my martial training to those of the arcane art.

Markos has my sympathy, but still must earn my respect.  I shudder to think what he must have had to endure: having been stripped of his family, held a captive aboard a nefarious pirate vessel, obeying all bidding of the captain as his cabin boy.  I had heard horrible tales of such slavery aboard vessels of extended sea journeys, but to be forced into such terrible service with no prospect for escape, knowing not whether you will see a new dawn.  The injustice would certainly harden you to the world.  But he is fortunate.  He was cast adrift as he grew to be too mannish, not killed.  He was rescued and returned to his rightful family, recognized as a noble, given coin, influence, power, reputation.  He has been gifted of an education and contacts to aid in any endeavour he should so choose.  He has been offered an opportunity to do great good in Thricia, make a name for himself, and perhaps even prosper.  I will no longer abide his boyish immaturity, self-pity and wallowing, nor his over-exaggerated omniscience.  Henceforth he must learn to compose himself as a man of respect, such that he may receive the respect of others.  Only then will the world soften itself to him.


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## Rastfar (Jul 17, 2007)

5 Ter, 637 M.Y.

I had always heard of Malcolm the Bronze.  We all had.  He was one of those I had romanticized the idea of, though now I am not so sure that he was deserving of my idolatry.  Where was the duly designated Watch-Mage while Quillton’s residents were under attack?  Where was Sir Malcolm the Bronze while Thricia’s citizenry were being sacrificed?  And for what was their sacrifice?  For one man to attempt to recapture his youth?  A self-satisfying escapade?  To slake some personal adventure? 

I had heard of Malcolm the Bronze’s reputation.  We all had.  To my dismay I discover that absent is synonymous with irresponsible.  Are these scathing accusations?  Maybe.  But I say they are bitter truths.  Do the good deeds outweigh the bad?  I am not Osiris, but perhaps Felix Wayhand and his son are asking the same question.  Perhaps had we been able to send a faultless ahead, Tolvin Kentai would not be hearing his judgment now.  Sir Malcolm should have been waiting at the Vanderboren manse for the arrival of the murderers.

As am I, Malcolm the Bronze is a graduate of the adventuring curriculum.  Thus I know that he holds the ideas of exploration and discovery, the appeal of thrill-seeking and risk, dear in his heart of hearts.  Would that he had the wisdom to know when to request reassignment, aid, or replacement there would be three less deaths to account for.  How many others may have suffered in the past?  

While I am eager to receive his advice, learn from one I had always wished to emulate, and make him proud by returning the token trophy, any such accomplishments will be sour.  Is it possible that he would wish to steal the credit for the return of a religious relic?  Telemakhos would have me believe it possible.  I must be certain to independently declare our intention of its pursuit to a third party, unconnected, so that we will be able to better lay claim to the return of this blessed amulet of Fallon, before handing it to Malcolm for presentation.  Leisel of Isis, in Sluetelot, she will know how to aid me.

The more I see, the more I grow contemptuous of the old guard.  I begin to fathom how easy it is for Markos to remain disdainful.  To be a knight is an honour and a life style, not an honorarium for a stylish life.  I find another man expected to embody knightly virtue, measured and found wanting.


‘It is the responsibility of the young to keep the venerated honest.‘


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## Rastfar (Jul 18, 2007)

6 Ter, 637 M.Y

The others have gone and I welcome the break.  The tides have carried their ship away and the tension between us all with it.  I remain behind here in the Vanderboren manse, enjoying the hospitality of Lady Lavinia.  Also sharing her company are Victoria and Laarus of Ra.  I have not seen Maeve since our last talk, nor any of the other Jade Ravens for that matter.  Perhaps she is avoiding me.

Laarus concedes to experiencing visions.  While I am calmed to discover he does not suffer some gnawing malady, I find that I am more than a little disturbed by the idea of one of our number having unpredictable foresight.  Such divination that he admits is not bestowed by Ra.  And such prescience that he assures always come to pass.  Should I believe Laarus’ claims true, and I have no reason to consider him beguiling us, this means that Telemakhos is destined to meet with a fiery end.  Not on my watch.

But where and why; from what do these premonitions derive?  Is Laarus in some danger that he is not telling us of?  Or, worse yet, some danger he knows not of?  Is it possible that in some way he may be a threat to us?


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## Rastfar (Jul 20, 2007)

7 Ter, 637 M.Y


Without all of the distraction and hullabaloo I have been able to clearly begin thinking more about Vanthus Vanderboren and his connection to a plot against the Wetherwax fleet.  What work would need be begun only after crippling the RMN?  The parallels are entirely too intentional to ignore.  

The indistinguishable figure who met with Vanthus in Azure could be any of the three whom I had overheard during this Festival of Isis past.  Or one of their agents?  This connection alone, would lead me to believe that perhaps Vanthus is an unwilling pawn in their game.  For while the Devenpecks alone do not wield immutable power, the suggestion of involvement by the Vandermok’s and those who serve the god of power is enough to hold sway over Vanthus, his parents or the Vanderboren Mercantile Nexus.  But what advantage could Vanthus be hoping to gain?  

Vanderboren, Vandermok, is there a possibility that the families are indeed related, a genealogical offshoot, or is it merely coincidence?  So the correlation would stand.

Markos has taken to calling the religious relics of Vanthus’ pursuit, _Pearls of Power_.  Malcolm the Bronze declared that this is a misnomer as the _Pearls of Power _ that he knows of are divine items, holy to Tefnut, but allowed for those dedicated to other gods as well.  They are used to enhance the castings of priestly spells, presumably to whichever god they are in service to.  Malcolm assures me that the two are distinctly different, not one in the same.  Only that this is a ‘pearl’ of some power.

Yet I must allow for the facts presented before me.  This pearl was of some power, was sought after by religious fanatics, be they bullywugs, and so was possibly dedicated to whatever fish-mouthed god they sacrifice rats to.  Assuming that the pearl we came into contact with, its purposeful intention was certainly not to be smashed.  Vanthus’ blood caused the transformation. I must assume that this was an unwelcome side effect 

I shall remember to give the young mage clarification so he does not labour to research them wrongly.


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## Rastfar (Jul 23, 2007)

8 Ter, 637 M.Y

I was overcome in the romanticism of the moment.  I bent the knee.  I made a vow.  And one I may not be able to practically keep.  Such a fool am I.  Perhaps it was the moon air, the breath of Isis blown into my chest.  The Lady Lavinia certainly does not want for looks.  As she sat there, alone, forlorn, with seemingly naught else in the world, I was reminded of Paulien and how she must feel:  like a ship listing in a storm, no beacon in sight, no safe haven, no harbour, and no escape.

To play at being a knight is a dangerous game, and now I have forced another to lay her woes upon my shoulders.  I must now honour my word, for the emotional investment I have wrested from her, lest she be buoyed by false hope.


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## el-remmen (Jul 24, 2007)

I really like how this journal is starting to really supplement the "main" story hour - for example, the last two entries really shed light on the last InterSession installment with Bleys and Victoria approaching Weirspierogen.

Keep up the good work!


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## Rastfar (Jul 24, 2007)

26 Ter, 637 M.Y

Garkhan the Green.  Garkhan the Garbage-Picker.  The grubby, the grotesque, the gross, grimy, grungy, grody.  I had heard all of these names used in reference to our illustrious watch-mage, wielding some myself as a child.  He has no knighthood and I dare suggest that he never will even be considered.  Why should he?  He has done nothing to distinguish himself.  He boasts no fantastic deeds or heroics against odds unnumbered.  Yet, I now begin to see Garkhan for what he really is.  A real Watch-Mage, much more worthy of emulation than many of these so-called virtuous paragons.  He may be peculiar, odd, and prone to foul stench, but his heart is large, his honour strong, his perceptions and priorities clear.

Having grown up in Weirspeirogen, being of common blood, and now serving as his people’s protector, Garkhan the Green has a perspective unique to those lives his lies entwined with.  I am given the impression that he harbours umbrage for House Devenpeck, as there is overtly no love lost by the noble family for their watch-mage.  He has given me hospitality this night, and allowed me to make pleasantries and ask my humble questions.  He found opportunity to subtly interrogate me in return, measuring me, trying to gauge me as a man, a mage.  Thinly veiled insinuation has me believe that House Devenpeck would much rather see him replaced with someone younger, more suitable to their agenda, more appropriate of their station and in line with their paradigm.

Me.  

Brilliant really, for whatever suggestion House Devenpeck must have sown in my father’s ears, Callum would not know it to be serving as a means to manipulative end.  And insightful.  Garkhan is clearly more clever and understanding of Weirspeirogen’s political trickeries than he is ever given credit for.  Having glimpsed such rare insight into the true man, witnessing his pride, affinity for his home, love for his people, despite reputation and mockery, I am forced to concede that I believe he is fully aware of all his actions.  He likely employs his full faculties to continue with the façade of Garkhan the Garbage-Picker, shrewd in that he is utterly seen as an eccentric figurehead.  

And so now I must reflect and wonder: what kind of impression have I left with him?  For it is Garkhan who provides me with fables of a box of wands.  Would he intentionally lead me astray?  Would he tempt me to search out such an item while at the King Stones, knowing it did not exist?  I must trust in my instinct in this.  The answer must be no.   

‘Language most shews a man.  Speak that I may see thee.’


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## Rastfar (Aug 27, 2007)

28 Ter, 637 M.Y

When Markos went missing as a child, many of the Raymer clan spent much time, cost, and energy in search if him.  Several even called in favours of others even more powerful.  Neither the divinations of exalted wizards, nor the prayers of a House dedicated to Ra yielded results, however.  Whoever abducted him was certainly with means and purpose.  What kind of power must said individual possess to shield Markos from such scrying eyes?  And to what end?  This information makes the boy more sympathetic, but suspect as well.

‘Family is our anchor; if we lose it we are lost.’


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## Rastfar (Aug 27, 2007)

2 Quark, 637 M.Y


I have confided in Victoria my secret regarding my patron House.  I admit that I entrust much in her confidence, but I hold faith in her honour and being beholden to those whom are ostensibly friends.  I regret not having seen the wisdom in informing her before we sojourned to Weirspeirogen.


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## Rastfar (Aug 27, 2007)

9 Quark, 637 M.Y.

Finally, we are off to the Disputed Territories.  We have re-hired Falco and Dunlevey, after negotiating terms more to their liking.  It shall be a long road ahead but I welcome the journey.  I have longed to see the Thrician countryside for many years now and am keen to delve deeper into the cultural history of our roots which derived from the Time of the Six Kingdoms.  The Borderlands and beyond should prove thrilling.

‘The more I travel, the less I know.’


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## Rastfar (Sep 18, 2007)

10 Quark, 637 M.Y.

I have met Terrance the Yellow, an amiable man.  He guided me toward Jacoba the Brown in the Border Shires should the need arise.  I do not anticipate needing to seek her out, but I must at least announce my presence in the area to her should the opportunity arise.  It would be good to hear her perspective of the rumours involving the Kingdom of the Red God that in part lead us here.  It is possible that she too may know more about the King Stones or the Moor Tombs.


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## Rastfar (Sep 19, 2007)

12 Quark, 637 M.Y.

Now I have opportunity to know halflings as they are on their terms, not adapted to life in our cities and towns.  Here in such serene scenery it is easy to see how the little folk live at a slower pace in life.  I would easily forget that they have noble houses at court like my charter companions.


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## Rastfar (Sep 19, 2007)

13 Quark, 637 M.Y.

Our guide is a rugged little man named Kermit Buckleburr.  He oozes disdain for us, but likes our coin well enough.  He keeps a dog whom he calls friend but rides as a mount: Duckhunter.  At least he is friendly.  For the same share as Falco and Dunlevey he will lead us past all dangers in the Disputed Territories to the Ray-Ree and the King Stones.  Seems a convenient arrangement for him of course if there is no real threat.  And obviously should we happen upon some danger, he will no doubt excuse it as unavoidable and entirely not his fault.  He has agreed to keep the horses while we delve.  I must ask Telemakhos if his fee includes grooming or would those services cost extra.


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## Rastfar (Sep 19, 2007)

15 Quark, 637 M.Y.

While it has always been rumoured that followers of the Red God venture into the Disputed Territories, we now know that such suppositions are not only true but very much prolific.  We encountered the remains of a raiding party who had obviously run afoul of a halfling ranging who took none too kindly to the incursion in their lands.  It appears that the raiders never even had a chance to draw their weapons.  The rangers slew them all with arrows.  Their horses as well.  Only two survived.  A sole man was conscious, Cosimo Najem, a fresh-faced young man with nary a whisker.  

Falco and Tymon find it suspicious that the Red God worshippers were raiding with horses in tow as it is not in their religious doctrine to employ the steeds.  The boy informs us that the Missionary leading them had been responsible for the equine inclusion.

Could he be some unorthodox or secular rogue?  Could he be a pretender leading zealots astray to mount a holy war?  Who would most stand to gain from a holy war of the Red God against Thricia and Isis?  Perhaps upon our return to the Bordershires we may glean more information from Jacoba the Brown or the rangers who took plunder from the men.  Their personals may hold some further clue.


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## el-remmen (Sep 19, 2007)

One of the things I love about this journal is the chance to ruminate on things that otherwise seem forgotten in the game.


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## Rastfar (Sep 19, 2007)

> One of the things I love about this journal is the chance to ruminate on things that otherwise seem forgotten in the game.




What I love about this journal is the further insight into Bleys' character and the evidence of how he thinks.  While some mystery or tidbit of information may arise, he obviously does not always react to the information.  In fact, we get to see just how long he may digest and sift the information before he _does_ indeed address it, days or even weeks later.


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## Rastfar (Sep 21, 2007)

18 Quark, 637 M.Y.

 Dragons!  And where there are young ones, a mother is sure to be.  We are lucky to have only been blundered upon by the former.  Never would I have expected to encounter the awesome species as we only ever know them in fable and legend.  Even one so young, they are amazingly agile, cat-like quick, and instinctively savvy.  It was naught but the length of a man and already it had teeth as large as dirks.  Its supple form belied its strength and stamina; ferociously it was able to lash out tearing metal as if it were flesh.  The bright green wyrmling endured many mighty blows and still exercised its animalistic skill for survival, escaping us.  And perhaps we are the better for it.  Its death would surely have led to ours, hunted in the vast open of the Disputed Territories.  Should Thricia ever entertain hopes of reclaiming these lands, this is indeed another peril that will need to be considered and weighed into any such decision.

‘Only those who look with the eyes of children can lose themselves in the object of their wonder.’


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## Rastfar (Oct 30, 2007)

20 Quark, 637 M.Y.

We have completed the journey to our destination, having found the Ray-Ree to be exactly as described, amenable to exchange.  Our hosts hold a tentative grasp on their land, exacerbated by the absence of their warrior-tribesmen, who have all sojourned to a council of chieftains.  There all the tribes of the Disputed Territories are gathering to decide how to respond to the incursions of Red God worshippers.  It is plain to see that these nomadic barbarians, descendants of old Thrician blood lines while the Sunrads still lived, serve as an unwitting buffer toward the safety of Thricia proper.  In a land dominated by denizens ranging from goblinoid to giant, we find most advantageous allies who demand nothing in exchange.

They are no less cultured, gracious, or respectful than their fable would have one believe.  In welcome we are feasted upon a meal that would feed their hungry clan for a month.  The land here is hard, and the bounty is sparse.  I find them to be exemplary of ideals chivalrous, an entirely unexpected outcome.

As a gesture of our good faith we have set to aiding them in the maintenance of their status quo.  Their midwife, an herbalist, delivers a brew to the local bugbear chieftain, which placates his desire for feud with the Ray-Ree.  Bruggah serves as a barrier between these lands and the more wicked creatures lurking in the Tar Fain hills beyond; to treat with him is to curry favour with life.  The bugbear chieftain may be being manipulated by Hezrah Blacktooth, an outcast, who was once the pupil of Rudwilla of the Toadstools.  She is a witch among other things: a wielder of the forbidden arts, and breeder of orc blood.  Perhaps it is her aim to steal the secrets of the brew from Rudwilla, kill her, and in so doing forge an alliance with Bruggah against her former tribesmen.  First Elder Admentus tells us that she is accompanied by four half-orc children at the least, whose hearts are no less dark than hers. 

We have been forced to continue without our strongest sword-arm.  Timotheus has the bog flu.  The journey coupled with the fermented goat’s milk must have been too much for him.  I will hone my blade 60 more strokes this evening, and beseech of Falco more arrows.


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## Rastfar (Nov 1, 2007)

21 Quark, 637 M.Y.

Hezrah Blacktooth has escaped us.  After tracking her to a ruined keep on these borderlands, she allowed us to slay her sons, giving her time long enough to make due her escape.  We have returned Rudwilla to her work and will watch carefully this night.  We have not seen the last of the dark witch, of that I am certain.


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## Rastfar (Nov 4, 2007)

22 Quark, 637 M.Y.

Again we encountered the foul workings of Hezrah Black-tooth and her brood.  And again her plans have been thwarted, and progeny slain.  But still she eludes us.  The rival bugbear shaman she wished to prop up has been slain, certainly this will bring the Ray-Ree their sense of normalcy for some time to come.  I do not relish the notion of leaving enemies behind me on a field of battle.  I fear they never wholly flee, and linger in their shadowy recesses only long enough to find opportunity to strike most unsuspecting.  We should hunt her.  We should kill her.

We have voted and will speak with Brother Cineas, hoping to glean more information about the moors and the King Stones, before we make a decision upon which avenue to pursue next.

At the evening meal provided by our hosts, I again noted Timotheus drinking much of the fermented goat’s milk.  The fool, should he prove unable to aid us again due to his weak constitution or will, I shall be very cross.


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## Rastfar (Nov 14, 2007)

23 Quark, 637 M.Y.

This afternoon we visited Brother Cineas, a monk of Anubis who defends the mounds where the Ray-Ree inter their dead.  He is a young and blunt man, stalwart in his duty.  Yet, if he does not allow for some measure of precaution or foresight, eventually his position will be overrun by the ghouls which issue forth from this ‘Devoured Town’. 

He offered little knowledge of the King Stones, though I feel his opinions have done much to assuage Laarus’ concerns about our journey there.  He knew aught more about Dalvan Meir’s tomb.

Tomorrow we march for the King Stones.


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## Rastfar (Nov 15, 2007)

25 Quark, 637 M.Y.

We have found the Flar’Choo goblins, but not yet recovered the rumoured box of wands.  They are cowardly vermin and seem innumerable.  We have taken one captive in the hopes of eliciting more information from it.  We have learned of the presence of hobgoblins at their camp.  It names them of ‘the sleeping lizard’, the Scheireilanders speculate this to be synonymous with those of ‘the Blue Claw’.  On the morrow we will reconnoiter to ascertain whether we can breach this goblin camp and discover more about the hobgoblin emissaries.


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## Rastfar (Nov 19, 2007)

26 Quark, 637 M.Y.

This is useless.  The others bicker over everything and are not vested enough in any common cause for us to accomplish our goals efficiently.  Without cohesion we are as like to die out here of hunger as we are to goblins.  I see now that I was wrong to believe that these King Stones would be a proving ground for our fraternity.  And as much as I would like to explore these caverns at length and eradicate all the denizens therein, it is obvious that I am the minority in this.  I fear that with news of these hobgoblins the Scheireilanders will become distracted and cast aside the greater good we may accomplish in the moors.


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## Rastfar (Nov 19, 2007)

27 Quark, 637 M.Y.

The hobgoblins are gone, the box of wands with them.  It is impossible to catch them, though some still believe it a possibility.  I guess were it a threat to the Ben Heuvels it would spur the same reaction in me, and not sound near as folly.

‘Passion is ever the enemy of reason.’

We are done here.


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## Rastfar (Dec 21, 2007)

28 Quark, 637 M.Y.

Today has been full of most unlikely events.  The mantle of leadership has been draped upon me.  I did not expect as much, though I do not shrink from it.  It was clever of Telemakhos to prop me up as his nomination, knowing that there would be little argument.  Though if he thinks his relation to me shall give him some favourable sway in my ear, he will prove mistaken.  Laarus was most reticent to capitulate the position, an attitude which I had not entirely expected.  Perhaps he thought himself a better candidate, if so he did not press the point.  As a Sunfather, I am certain it would be awkward to needs follow the direction of another, indeed they are used to the deference of others, like Victoria.  Again, I am sure Telemakhos laughs as it seems my appointment proves a lesson in humility, doubly so as I am the only amongst us not of noble birth.  Could this be why Laarus continues to act in a manner which could jeapordize us?  Does his zeal come as the result of something to prove?  Or do we somehow make him balk?  Perhaps the ‘visions’ are eroding his rationale, casuing him to behave ever more erratic and reckless.  We are fortunate that he did not lead Timotheus and Markos into a situation that three of them could not handle.  For that we have Bes to thank, not Ra.  I anticipate that there will come a day when Laarus will take action, and I will be forced to take action against him.  I fear for Victoria that day, and the hard choices she will make.  I owe her, at least, full consideration.

‘Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less.’

Hezrah again eludes us, a third time, this shall be the final.  The last of her brood have fallen, except for the witch Crusta, who has cozened to Markos.  It is not an arrangement that I am entirely comfortable with, but given the debate over the breeding orcs, I remain mute.  I do not expect that she will be returning to civilization with us.  She snores too loudly.


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## Rastfar (Jan 7, 2008)

1 Keent, 637 M.Y.

We have been routed by potential threat of the full remaining goblin force and the King Stones now lay behind us.  As Malcolm before me, I am sure that I will occasionally wonder what further mysteries remain uncovered in the ancient caverns therein. I do not suspect that I shall be given leave to return here any time soon, if at all.  My greatest concern still remains the Tomb of Dalvan d'Amberville, and the earthly relic of Fallon.  I hope that my companions are not so foolish to believe that our expeditious return to the north with vague news of a possible hobgoblin incursion sometime in the next year outweighs the potential wealth of good the reclaim of the mercy goddess's necklace would provide.  Please Isis grant them the wisdom to understand my words.


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## Rastfar (Jan 10, 2008)

2 Keent, 637 M.Y.

Our sojourn through this wilderness makes me think of Oliver.  He always wished we could spend time after our graduation, riding the Happet Wood, hunting, adventuring.  He would ramble on as children do, the gleam of excitement in his eyes.  The prospect of chance encounters with elves only thrilled him more.  Of course, given my present company, he long ago would have been ostracized or come to blows with most of them.  I do think that Timotheus would enjoy his company though, they do seem to have a kindred spirit and humour.  

I recall school days.  His continuous pranks would customarily set me at odds with the headmasters.  I never seemed to relish our predicaments as much as he.  Most often mid-flight he would always declare, “Humor is a spontaneous, wonderful bit of an outburst that just comes, Bleys.”  I would receive a blow to the arm or a fleeting slap on the back as he left me trail behind.  “It's unbridled, it’s unplanned, and it's full of surprises.”  His grin was a broad fixture upon his bearded chin, his laughter infectious.

I would trade Falco and Kermit both for the pleasure of his friendship now.


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## el-remmen (Jan 13, 2008)

Just wanted to let you know I'm still reading.  Loved that last part about Oliver.


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## Rastfar (Jan 15, 2008)

4 Keent, 637 M.Y.

News of the gathered barbarian tribes has reached the village of the Ray-Ree.  A few of their warrior women have returned, telling tales of their accomplishments.  The city of Majenta, province of the Kingdom of the Red God, has been sacked.  The remaining tribesmen have set to building boats to continue their swath of destruction further southward and west.  Despite their tenacity, upon reaching the mainland or any organized force, I am certain that the barbarian hordes will be slaughtered, if rumours of the ability to summon ‘black angels of death’ are to be believed.  

Unfortunately, as a result this means that the disputed territories will become a region rife with instability.  The would-be allies Thricia never recognized as her border guards will no longer patrol the divide, or buffer the civilization proper from marauding bands of humanoids or monsters.  The Bordershires will be hard-pressed and Kermit’s smirk will soon turn to grimace.  An organized force allowed access to the southern shores of the Captured Sea will have unopposed access to Lilly City, home of the Margrave.  Only House Roose and the wood elves would impede westerly progress, but a properly motivated unit would not be stalled long.  Should orcs and bullywugs, or even lizardfolk, surrounding the Captured Sea find common cause, Thricia may indeed find herself threatened.  Who would benefit as result of this scenario?  Who would wield the power to harness these myriad groups?  And how does this ‘savage tide’ apply?  Will the Kingdom of the Red God retaliate upon Thricia thinking the barbarian tribes somehow our pawns?  Should popular sentiment in the Royal courts prove favourable to Hermanland and our naval fleet drawn into the easterly conflict, not only will the Wizard’s Sea be free to the exploitation of pirates, but most certainly no vessels will be assigned to protect the inland.

Perhaps my divinations are grim, but in knowledge there is power.  It is my evaluation that this news must reach the proper ears quickly, it is unquestionably more dire than any rumours involving hobgoblins in Scheireiland.

‘The larger the island of knowledge, the longer the shoreline of wonder.’


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## Rastfar (Jan 21, 2008)

6 Keent, 637 M.Y.

Pillars.  The Pillars.  We hear words but do not see them.  Could there be some alternate spelling or pronunciation?  Pylars?  What is one from Pyla referred to as?  Are not the sons of Briareus from Pyla?  Perhaps Laarus’ vision refers to us?  Do we somehow come to name ourselves – Pillars - or use the word therein? 

Again with these visions, or what Laarus is fully convinced are premonitions.  The fact that a Sunfather views the future that is yet come to pass disturbs me more than I would admit to the others.  The knowledge that they are not derivative of his patron, King of the Gods, I find highly troublesome.  What concerns me most is that no one else amongst us seems to care or even believe the subject warrants any investigation.  Laarus is guarded and will only divulge very little, he is reticent to confer from whence these omens flow.  So, he willingly ties my hands in any attempt to aid him.  For without the full light of knowledge of what I am to understand, I can only remain in maddening darkness.  This much I do know, should the time come, I will never read a letter and speak aloud the words, “More bad news.  Oroleniel has been imprisoned. They say he did it because he is one of the Pillars.”  Laarus’ visions are not to be trusted and neither is any direct action taken by him as a result of them.

‘Guard against the prestige of great names.  See that your judgments are your own. Do not shrink from disagreement.  No trusting without testing.’


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## Rastfar (Jan 30, 2008)

6 Keent, 637 M.Y.


The day has been long, but full of excitement unlike any I’ve felt a passion for yet.  This is it.  This is what I’ve been waiting for, longing for, the kind of mission I’ve been uniquely suited to undertake since the completion of my schooling.  The adventuring curriculum was designed to tailor our skills for just such as these purposes.  And it is my belief, as I always held at school, that my martial background will only help to further serve our needs.

As the day began I was able to ascertain the derivation of Falco’s behaviour at the mounds of the Ray-Ree.   Telemakhos’ apprehension was well founded, for our guide does wield the wary way of witchcraft.  I must be sure to ask him to keep an eye on Falco, for should he and Crusta be found speaking privately at all I will be most suspicious and must know of it.

We’ve crossed the Ickle Trik, south of Moorwall, to avoid the rumours of the ‘devoured town’ given us by Brother Cineas.  After  many hours through insect infested swamp muck, we found what we sought.  The masks that did indeed direct us to the pointed tower.   They are runic in nature, reminiscent of the symbols used in script by the ancients, as Laarus has informed us.  The tower itself is hexagonal, a tall black obelisk, inscribed on each side with runes, more of the same.  Each facet seems to be a riddle, or a clue, that leads to Dalvan d’Amberville’s tomb.  Whether these are the doing of Dalvan Meir or his sycophants is unknown, but I must assume the former as his legacy in death is nothing if not arrogant.

They read –

_Those crossing deeps to gain the ground. May fall as biting fear is found._​_

One’s days can ne’er be forged anew, But magic may give great their due.​
The immortal clock will never chime, for he who fears a simple climb.​
The gold you give pays well in kind. Give well when asked and safety find.​
Desire for gold may secrets show, But giving stills the fatal blow.​
The immortal clock will never chime, for he who fears a simple climb.​_
The messages bear no discernible order.  I have only listed them as we have discovered them.   My early assumptions lead me to believe that each of these riddles shall prove the clue to solving some test or trial.  The tower itself bears a lens in the crowning pyramid, indeed pointing us toward the tomb we seek.

We have gained ground on the edge of a crescent cliff-ringed lake within whose center stands a single isle bearing a large sacrificial bowl and a long lost idol.  What is the more exciting is the single ominous door recessed deep in the stone directly across, behind there lie the secrets we seek.

If my theory proves correct, we have already tackled our first challenge – 

_The immortal clock will never chime, for he who fears a simple climb.​_
And tomorrow we shall test our second – 

_The gold you give pays well in kind. Give well when asked and safety find._​


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## el-remmen (Jan 30, 2008)

I love how this journal supplements the main story hour, sometimes giving insight into Bleys' point of view and sometimes adding a level of detail that the narrative version of the campaign makes difficult to include w/o bogging it down (which I think is easier to accomplish in the first person/journal-style).

Keep it up!

I only wish the subscription feature of the boards wasn't broken, so it wouldn't take me two days to notice when you've updated!


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## Rastfar (Feb 1, 2008)

ASIDE:  I am slowly (slowly) painting miniatures for the entirety of the PC party (and some NPC's as well...).  And it occurs to me that others (the three people who do read this SH) may wish to see them.  So, if all of you would like, I can see about taking pictures of them and posting them here as I complete them.  I've only got three done so far (I won't tell you which ones), and am hoping that those PC's don't die and backlog my 'to do' figs too much by creating new PC's for me to paint.


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## Rastfar (Feb 20, 2008)

Here are a few pictures of the miniature that I painted for Laarus.  I did modify him slightly, to have a bald head, before I painted him.  I would welcome any and all feedback...enjoy


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## Rastfar (Feb 22, 2008)

7 Keent, 637 M.Y.


The tomb of Dalvan d’Ambervile is cold and dark, supernaturally so, and I do not deny that I am glad to be free of its confines.  But I must go back.  Our avenue of egress was one of our own design, not his, so we do not carry the boon which I seek.  But it will not be easy.  The others are squeamish, rightfully so, Dalvan’s arrogance and cunning are enough to test any man’s mettle.  We have the masks bearing the runic signature of the Ancients.  They are the key to unlocking the secret of Dalvan Meir’s third puzzle:


_Desire for gold may secrets show, but giving stills the fatal blow.​_

The mask of avarice, I will wager it.



We have been fortunate to have blundered into the treasure room of a brigand crew with the moniker of ‘the Dead Men’.  They no longer occupy the lair, as they have been dispatched by ‘the Broken Circle’.  It seems that our fates are intertwined, a common foe – The Nine - unites us.  Here we will find respite and with clarity of purpose will make the decision which shall prove to lead us. 


‘Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear.’


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## Rastfar (Mar 5, 2008)

Here are a few pictures of the miniature that I painted for Telemakhos: everyone's favorite libertine.  I would welcome any and all feedback...enjoy


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## Rastfar (Mar 7, 2008)

8 Keent, 637 M.Y.

The green stone that serves as a fundamental warding of the place is vile.  Even after removing a fist-sized hunk from the black hill, its effects reach out to pervade our sanctuary.

Amongst the treasures we have located a copy of The Prophetic Visions of the One, a rubar tome written by a prophet named Crimson.  I find it compelling, and curious.  Could there hold some clue therein that predicts war or peace now, in this time, our age, between Thricia and the Kingdom of the Red God of the West?

Fallon, if that is her name, seems to be the one amongst the Broken Circle who makes the decisions. Is it coincidental that one bearing the name of the goddess whose relic lies in this remote place should find us here?

She has given us more information about the Nine.  Much more.  I query how one that is seemingly so frail, can be so well-informed in this most remote place.  Of course none of the others so much as blinked at the information that we were simply spoon-fed.  Their continual acceptance of all information based upon blind faith with no reason to test the veracity otherwise will someday doom us.


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## Rastfar (Mar 20, 2008)

9 Keent, 637 M.Y.

I owe much to Bes and Isis for we are to return to the tomb.  Tomorrow we will best Dalvan d’Amberville or die trying.  I can only hope that we prove successful.  I have driven the Charter here, against many of their wills; at times I felt as if I was alone in wishing to undertake this quest.  But the glory that the recovery of Fallon’s Amulet shall bring us will be reward far greater than any treasure we can hope to find therein.  Will my conscience prove me penitent if my goals cost us lives?


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## Rastfar (Mar 26, 2008)

10 Keent, 637 M.Y.

The ghastly thing claiming to be Dalvan has been dispatched.  It has made ransack of the area it has been confined to, and what little intelligence it may have once possessed has been warped by myriad hours of solitude, silence, and darkness.  Do undead creatures feel the compulsion to rest, to sleep?  An ironic end for one who sought immortality. 

_The immortal clock will never chime, for he who fears a simple climb.​ _

This was the first of our trials.  It was a simple enough climb to ascend the keyhole tower in order to find the location of Dalvan Meir’s tomb.  The assumption is that those seeking it do so in search of immortality, as did his adherents and those who sought to emulate him in life.

_The gold you give pays well in kind. Give well when asked and safety find.​ _ 

By crossing the water and depositing coins in the bronze bowl we were able to gain admittance to Dalvan’s tomb.

_Desire for gold may secrets show, But giving stills the fatal blow.​_
After doing so, we unlocked the secrets of the masks and employed ‘avarice’ to show us our path, and ‘generosity’ to open the way.

_The immortal clock will never chime, for he who fears a simple climb.​_
We then followed the narrow hall to a seemingly bottomless shaft.  There we descended into the dark, aided by the hand-holds carved from the stone.

_Those crossing deeps to gain the ground. May fall as biting fear is found.​_
As we exited the shaft, we found ourselves in a large chamber, the majority of which was occupied by a pool of acid.  A trap left along the narrow walkway was designed to upset those along it into the caustic depths.  Fortunately for us we found most of the acid evaporated, if not concentrated.  The statue guardian was a fearsome opponent.

_One’s days can ne’er be forged anew, But magic may give great their due.​_
This must be the final riddle, and herein lies our secret to escape.  But what does it mean?  *Magic*.  Perhaps one of these potions is the answer.  

There is one final warding on what must be the final door between us and our successes.  It does not bode well, for we have no means beyond the mundane to dispel it. 


'Mystery creates wonder and wonder is the basis of man's desire to understand.'


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## Rastfar (Mar 28, 2008)

11 Keent, 637 M.Y.


_One’s days can ne’er be forged anew, But magic may give great their due.​ _ 

Could it be that this refers to the trial of the tomb itself.  Why one would undertake the quest to unearth Dalvan’s secrets.


_The immortal clock will never chime, for he who fears a simple climb.​_
And that this riddle is indeed the last, as it could have been the first?  Dalvan could not have known who would come to his tomb.  Who would prove successful in besting his riddles.  Yet, if the ghoulish Dalvan is to be believed, it is just such an individual whom the wizard would have looked to become.  A nefarious necromancer’s plot: to establish in death a means to secure renewed life by challenging all those who seek your treasure. And in the end they are instead your reward, cunning enough to best your riddles, strong enough to conquer your traps, what better candidate for possession.  But still, unknowing of just whom that may be, Dalvan must have had the insight to have left himself a mundane means of escape.  It is known that halflings boast no power over the arcane, and dwarves only in legend.  Would he be willing to risk that it would not be one of the demi-races?   I should think not.  I must find a means for us to make our exodus.  The clues must lie in the patchwork ravings of this lunatic minds’ collage.


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## Rastfar (Apr 15, 2008)

12 Keent, 637 M.Y.

We have done it.  The amulet of Fallon will be returning to Thricia with us where it will once again be used for good.  While it has been thrilling to spend this time in the Disputed Territories it is time to leave, the others long for a return to civilization.  I shall miss these adventures as I find that they heighten my senses, making me feel truly alive.

Through force of muscle and will, Timotheus dug us from the tomb of Dalvan d’Amberville, but still I am baffled.  This is most certainly not how the necromancer planned his own escape.  We missed something.  But what was it?  I still cannot understand what Dalvan had planned.  The only answer I do not have is to the identity of the last remaining potions.  Could this have been it?

‘The moment of victory is much too short to live for that and nothing else.’


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## Rastfar (Apr 16, 2008)

13 Keent, 637 M.Y.

We bid farewell and luck to the Broken Circle.  Ethan assures me that someone connected to their interests will contact us in the future after we return to Thricia proper.  From here we will return to the Ray-Ree, it would be rude of us not to inform our reluctant hosts of our exodus.  They have been most helpful and I will pray them good fortune in their continued struggle in these meager lands.


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## Rastfar (Apr 30, 2008)

18 Keent, 637 M.Y.

The Ray-Ree have generously offered to embrace Crusta and secure her tutelage with Rudwilla should she choose it.  As anticipated we will not be returning with the half-orc in tow.  On the morrow we shall set out to the Mounds that Laarus might visit with Brother Cineas of Anubis one last time.  We will give him details of our encounter with the mummy cultists.  Perhaps he will share some sect knowledge, elaborating upon the final fate of Dalvan Meir.


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## Rastfar (May 2, 2008)

...and Markos....


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## Rastfar (May 29, 2008)

27 Keent, 637 M.Y.

I do not believe in coincidence and as a matter of caution the rarity of the encounter determines my vigilance.  As we sojourn home some dangers are to be expected.  But I was wholly unprepared for our most recent trial.  After slaying the land shark, Laarus felt a’pull’ from deeper in the recesses of the rocks where we had taken refuge.  With great dread and only professional curiosity did I wish to accompany him to the source of his ‘calling’.  I was sure to leave the Amulet of Fallon with Victoria as she would not accompany us within.  

Ancient Runes marked the passage to a simple cavern, carved in seemless detail.  Earth.  Mind. Fire.  Inside the portal boasted of being the Mind of Oberah.  Surprisingly, a mute hermit stood silent sentinel in the chamber of steam and sulphur.  If this was his residence it showed no sign of being inhabited.  I query where he had come from and where he makes his home, here so far from anything.  Man cannot live upon thought alone.  

What limited knowledge I do have of the Time of the Six Kingdoms, I do not recall this area – the Land-Sea of Sharnth – being of any particular importance to the Ancients.

Inside Laarus was overcome by an oracle, a planar possession of sorts, exorcizing some control through an emanate heat source.  “Sons of Thricia, ever cautious are you.  When the wave crashes on Thrician soil it shall be those who act with alacrity that will find victory.”  It took the time to berate us our hesitation and cautious nature, or lack of blind faith in random encounter.

“My people ignored the fertile savagery of the bloody earth and it led to their end. The tide rises again.  My voice comes to you from afar.  Across space and time, through space and time and the planes.  The connection grows tenuous. You may ask me three questions. Ask them now.”  Unfortunately for us, the power of Oberah was only such that it was able to traverse time and space at precisely the proper moment at which we arrived with Laarus and the hold grew immediately tenuous.

Markos asked of it whom our primary enemy was in regards to the impending tide of savagery, or so the subject would seem.  Its reply came, “Too many to name, but you may begin with the Cults of the Beasts.”

Timotheus followed with the obvious, perhaps more important question, of where we should begin our search.  The reply lay at “The tower of Stanislaw Torn.”  A name I know not.

Laarus seems none the worse for wear, nor his piety shaken.  If he is being manipulated, which today’s encounter proves my suspicions correct, I am still uncertain as to the benevolence of his experiences.  I will continue to observe him, mindful that there are indeed outside influences at work upon him and that he is not solely touched by Ra.


‘I am only one, but I am one. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do.’


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## el-remmen (Jul 23, 2008)

We getting any more any time soon?


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## Rastfar (Jul 30, 2008)

7 Ese, 637 M.Y.

I had only one year at the Academy before Jacoba the Brown graduated.  As a result we never met.  Her appearance belies her worth.  She plays a perfect role for Ethan’s purpose, nestled in with the halflings she so closely resembles.  And her connection to the noble courts proves him doubly savvy.  It seems so disparate, to attempt to plan for a future, a life, of happiness, children, a country cottage with low-roiling smoke furling from a thatched roof, while yet the path you are on is one that keeps you in harm’s way, separated from your love, jeopardizing your own life if not hers as well.  Mayhap someday I too shall understand, and be so unfortunate.


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## Rastfar (Jul 31, 2008)

12 Ese, 637 M.Y.

They are calling it ‘_The Day of the Pillars_’.  Under the cloud of this vagrancy, it seems our homecoming shall not be heralded as triumphant as Telemkhos should like.  Despite Laarus’ proclivity for foresight, I cannot seem to connect how Oroleniel would prove to be connected with such an organization.  There is still a piece to this puzzle that I am missing and no amount of time is worth wasting upon speculation until I am able to divine more.

'Wisdom begins in wonder.'


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## Rastfar (Aug 7, 2008)

13 Ese, 637 M.Y.

I am to be provisional Watch-Mage of Sluetelot until a suitable, more permanent, replacement can be found.  Not a post that I relish, but one that I wholly embrace nonetheless as it is my duty to fulfill to the Academy and my former master.  Darbold does little to hide his displeasure, perhaps he feels I offended him at our intial meeting, though I suspect it more to do with the absence of his former friend and long time Watch-Mage of Sluetelot, Barakis the Brown.  I am certainly nothing of a shade compared to him.

The Red Lantern Gang, Harliss Javel, Misery Tlalok’s lot.  They seem to have it in for Telemakhos and with some enmity.  Someone is going to great lengths to see my brother-in-law interred.  Will this offense also relate to the rest of the members of the Charter of Schiereiland?  Or is Telemakhos somehow embodiment enough of our perceived culpability of the events in Kraken’s Cove?  Or is there some other reason that they stalk him, some other err that has occurred that I am as of yet unaware of.

‘Seize the day, put no trust in tomorrow.’


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## Rastfar (Aug 29, 2008)

17 Ese, 637 M.Y.

Having met Eubren Winter of Ra, I am informed that Lord Falkoner Wetherwax has received word of wha we know regarding potential threat to his fleet.  Some part of me still wishes to meet with him personally that I might measure the man myself, so as to ascertain whether it would behoove me to divulge all I know.  No matter how trivial or seemingly petty, an oath is one that is not taken lightly.  And while I would break no word to the House Devenpeck that I myself have promised, to dishonor my father in this way may be jus as grievous if not more so.

I am to understand also that Lord Falkoner Wethwerwax is also a proponent of uniting the Winter family into a Household recognized by the Margrave.  Such a man is a powerful supporter indeed and likely he vies to add a large feather to his cap in the manner of a bannerman House.  Of course, again this is sure to infuriate House Devenpeck, if not House Vandermok, as it would wrest even my father’s far removed   rubbing salt in the wound as they are sure to be reminded of what they see as traitorous actions by their fraternal bannerman House Tenbrook, who were once beholden to House Vandermok so long ago.

I too find that I believe the long-whispered rumours in the Royal Courts of a united House Winter are compelling.  But I feel as if I am in a tentative position, one that could certainly affect such an outcome and I will be certain to proceed with caution in this, as I believe that my kindred blood may usurp loyalty in duty.

‘A heretic is a man who sees with his own eyes.’


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## Rastfar (Aug 30, 2008)

18 Ese, 637 M.Y.


I have enjoyed my time with Cwell the Carmine.  He is apt and a fine tutor.  And from him I have learned more of these Pillars and more directly, possibly Oroleniel’s involvement with them.  Cwell the Hawk tells me that the Pillars are not a new organization, in fact they are an age old premise if not in name.  They are everyman, farmers, dockworkers, town guard, and scriveners.  They are the common masses whom believe that too much power lies in the hands of too few.  That the Margrave and the ruling noble Houses  should not have sole authority over policy and law.  They believe that this is the power that corrupts and that each individual should be given command over his own life.  To this end some would also conclude even the Academy of Wizardry, its alumni, Watch-Mages, represent this same power corrupt.  Is it possible that Orolenial, having grown in Tempestas, has he embraced these same views.  Are they similar to those of the elves?  I know not.  Only in meeting with him will it be proven.

‘Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it's time to pause and reflect.’


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## el-remmen (Aug 30, 2008)

I don't know if anyone else is reading, but I sure am and am still enjoying the insight on Bleys Winter (called, 'the Aubergine').

Also, as DM it helps to remind me of stuff sometimes.


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## Rastfar (Oct 2, 2008)

24 Ese, 637 M.Y.


Yesterday may very well have been the longest day that I will ever live through.

Sleeplessness gripped Sleutelot causing her citizenry to behave most peculiar.  Laarus killed two people in the inn, a fire threatened to consume the city, a nightmare demon was unleashed on the populace, and some reclusive wizard was to blame for it all.  We are fortunate that we brought an end to the circumstances as swiftly as we did.  Had it even persisted another day, the consequences could have been much more dire indeed.

My only concern is the conflict that emerged with Laarus.  I do not pretend to be a religious man, but I believe that I understand the basic tenets of Fallon’s philosophies.  And yet, it took physical force for us to receive her mercies and compassion.  It just does not make any sense, why would a priest of Ra attempt to thwart the efforts of those seeking to do good?

‘I distrust those people who know so well what their god wants them to do, because I notice it always coincides with their own desires.’


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## Rastfar (Oct 7, 2008)

25 Ese, 637 M.Y.

Timotheus has accepted a duel with Floris Tenbrook.  Apparently, during the tumult of the previous day, he had done something to offend our host.  Apologies would have been gracious and acceptable but he relishes the challenge instead.  Should the rake’s reputation prove even half true our own stout warrior will be hard-pressed.  I hope he did not let his mouth sign a marker his blood cannot pay.  Should Bes smile upon him, we may be relocating to Moon City sooner than we would had considered.

‘Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved.’


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## Rastfar (Oct 14, 2008)

26 Ese, 637 M.Y.

Today I met Holy Captain Esperson Wetherwax of Tefnut.  He bears more than a passing resemblance to myself.  I always knew Winter blood to be thick in House Wetherwax veins but still the similarity was unnerving.  Having been sent by his cousin Lord Falkoner Wetherwax in response to our warnings of a potential threat against the Royal Margrave’s Navy, we yielded all we knew in confidence.  I did not divulge all my secrets, but the timing did not seem appropriate.  Perhaps when I receive an audience with the Lord of House Wetherwax alone, then I may feel secure enough to capitulate my honour to duty.

Charlotte the Bronze is leader of the Firebrands.  She brings us news that the Sea Wyvern is ours.  Unfortunately, it has been impounded by House Devenpeck, apparently circumstances are that it was in transit without appropriate papers, a fact that certainly does not go unnoticed.  Would House Devenpeck be so bold were they not in play for power of the RMN?  I do not relish the trip to Weispeirogen.  I hope that we need not leave the harbour except aboard our vessel.

More to my chagrin, my fellow Academy alum informs me further of Markos and his sordid past.  As she knows it, he is the bastard son of a man named Phineas Winter – a known pirate, pillager, and murderer in the area around the Hammer.  And this is the true purpose behind the abduction of the child from House Raymer, this cutthroat was merely taking what he saw as rightfully his.  If such is the case, Markos must surely have been aware, if not complicit, of many of the nefarious deeds that occurred aboard his father’s vessel.  Could this place him in the Charter as some sort of spy sent at his father’s behest?  Little is known or revealed of the boy’s sudden escape from his captors.  And immediately after his vanishing many powerful divinations and magicks were used by both those of the cloth and the arcane to learn more of his disappearance.  All attempts failed, or were thwarted.  The natural conclusion is that someone, or something, of some great power and control endeavored to do so.  Can I trust him?  Only time will tell.  The next time he begs to trade spells with me I shall use the opportunity to begin my inquiry.

‘The measure of a man's real character is what he would do if he knew he would never be found out.’


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## Rastfar (Oct 30, 2008)

28 Ese, 637 M.Y.

With all else that I was considering I had forgotten, Charlotte the Bronze warned me that young Lord Swann intended on issuing me a summons to his court.  And now that it has found my hands I cannot avoid it.  Of course, I never would have done so, as she suggested, but that same simple parchment still weighs heavy in my hand.

My concern is that perhaps in some way, something that I have done in earnest has earned Oroleniel the ire of young Lord Swann.  Could he be falsely accused and imprisoned, knowing that word of such occurrence would eventually reach mine ears and force me to respond to my fraternal fellow’s aid?  Could it therefore be some nefarious trap by young Lord Swann, for some offense or slight that he feels has been committed against him in dealing with the Gold Straw tribe?

My fellow alumnus needs me and it is my duty to fly to his side, to aid him in whatever capacity I can.

‘There are many ways of going forward, but only one way of standing still.’


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## Rastfar (Nov 6, 2008)

9 Syet, 637 M.Y.

Laurie the Purple has arrived as the more permanent replacement to the watch-mage post in Sluetelot.  And she could not have come too soon.  I must only tarry here a few days longer before I can tend to the needs of Oroleniel the Salmon.  For fear of the worst, I have been certain to tell Laurie of my anticipated progress and have asked her to inform Cwell the Carmine of Oroleniel’s predicament as well.  He being the most senior amongst us around the Drei-Hoek Bay, it is prudent to keep him informed.

Now, it is my earnest hope that Telemakhos can win his bout.  For his hubris has allowed him to jeopardize our grasp over the one tool that serves our charter best.  The rapier is not solely his by right of claim.  He seems concerned with the besmirching commentary of this Lilly City fop, when instead it his very actions that he should allow to propel his name and reputation if that is what he is so concerned about.  And if he loses I shall be sorely disappointed.

‘Only mediocrity can be trusted to be always at its best.’


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## Rastfar (Jan 22, 2009)

10 Syet, 637 M.Y.

It has been long since I have last seen the City of Flowers, it is as rich in history as it is in personae.  I suspect my time here will not be near half as pleasant as some of those that I have shared before.  We have secured suites at the Golden Arch Bridge and Inn, an establishment finer than any I have ever seen, everything I had always heard it was and more.  I am reminded of a lavish wedding I attended here years ago, Lieutenant Commander Noah Winter married Isabella Swann and somehow I made the guest list.  I attributed it to the machinations of my Aunt Custacia, though it is not impossible that my old mentor did not also have a hand in the manipulation.  Raphael Winter must certainly be a wealthy man indeed, curious that he seems to have no design toward nobility or the recognition of a family House.

We have returned the Amulet of Fallon to the temple, the Medicus Phaedra  is in receipt of the relic and has vowed to see it to good use.  I am glad to see it gone as it sowed the seed of dischord in our group, a fact that us wholly against everything that Fallon represents.  Most ironic that, and fitting, how items of such magical power, no matter how intended or benevolent can always be manipulated or become contentious.  Let that be a lesson to us all, one that we learn well, for I fear otherwise. 

‘As I make my slow pilgrimage through the world, a certain sense of beautiful mystery seems to gather and grow.’


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## Rastfar (Feb 24, 2009)

11 Syet, 637 M.Y.

Telemakhos has dueled Danser von Huet Blued and lost.  I am disappointed to say the least.  The most powerful magical item that we had in our employ for the purposes of our causes has been lost.  The Steel Whip belonged to Timotheus or myself as much as it did Telemakhos; there was never a discussion, permission given, or opinions asked, an arbitrary decision was made, one that affects us all.  

On the morrow Markos is due to duel the same flippant fop.  His over-large mouth and ego promptly earned him an appointment to duel as well.  To believe Charlotte the Bronze pains me, but I have no reason to suspect her of deceit.  Upon reflection I realize that it is a lofty ideal of mine own - to expect the most, the best, of Winter blood – that holds me in such contempt for the young man.  And there is nothing worse of potential than when it is not realized.  But in the end we are Winter.  And we, above all, claim strength in alliance.

‘Strength in Alliance’


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## el-remmen (Feb 24, 2009)

Nice to see an update it has been way too long!

p.s. check out your email about scheduling saturday's game!


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## Rastfar (Feb 24, 2009)

Bleys Winter


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## Rastfar (Feb 25, 2009)

11 Syet, 637 M.Y.

Assassins have again made an attempt on my brother-in-law’s life.  I am beginning to grow upset.  The audacity of such overtures is not only dangerous  it is reckless, chaotic and wholly uncivilized.  The Red Lantern Gang has earned the ire of a new foe this eve.  The attempt this time was a good one: well-planned, swiftly conducted and lethally executed.  Perhaps it is the smile of Bes alone that saved Telemakhos for surely he should be dead.

One of the duo has succumbed to grievous injuries, the other we were fortunate enough to take prisoner.  I shall look forward to the opportunity to speak with him, perhaps then we will have more answers than questions.


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## Rastfar (Feb 26, 2009)

Victoria Ostrander, Militant of Anhur


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## Rastfar (Mar 23, 2009)

12 Syet, 637 M.Y.

Markos abdicated his duel to Telemakhos, an attempt at redemption, though his reward was only humility.  Perhaps some day after Telemakhos gains better clarity and focus he shall return to reclaim his prize from Danser von Huet-Blued.  

We have met with the local Watch-Mage, a broad Neergaardian named Berenger the Taupe and his familiar Ewan, a fine hound.  He shall arrange an audience for us at Terrapin to see the assassin being held there.  Laarus shall call upon Ra to hold the criminal’s tongue true.  Perhaps we will have more answers soon.

*_____________________________________________________________________________________________________*

Terrapin is built upon the famed ziggurat of Heliopolis, the capitol of the Sunra Kingdom.  I have always wanted to visit but have never had opportunity nor recourse to do so.  The history of the Third Age is rich here in Lilly City and I am excited to have had this opportunity to see one of its marvels first hand.  The dungeons of the stronghold are no place I should ever like to find myself.  They are fetid and damp, as if a constant reminder that one might be short for a shallow grave.

We found the prisoner in receipt of proper treatment and Sir Berneger was of like mind as myself during his interrogation.  We did not learn much from him, despite the influence of the knight’s spell.  The assassin, we never learned his name, and his partner Sancri were contacted by a halfling of the monikecker Gibbet in Quillton.  The contract on my brother-in-law’s life is worth 600 pieces of silver; a pittance to be sure.  But perhaps this information is yet valuable.  Those who hold a love of currency can be bought.  I shall remember this should the time come.

‘Truth is in knowing.  To know is to empower.’


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