A Land Far Away

Dearest daughter…you are now of age and will begin glorious service to our Lord Oghma in The Font of Knowledge. Though you will rarely see your father or I as you usher guests, do not think this service trivial. Your father and I both began our service to The Lord of Knowlege as ushers even as you now do.

Be attentive to librarian Esperanza, respectful and courteous to the guests, and above all: honour and revere all within our Respendent Lord's House.

Know that this journal will be the greatest gift you will ever receive...a gift begun by your father and I, but that will be made immortal by you...it will be the journal of your life.

Bind herein all you see and learn. Show your father and The Binder of What is Known that you love them both by filling this your journal with images of quality, and knowledge of all you learn. My love and that of your father will ever be yours, but Oghma demands service, integrity, attentiveness, and diligence…honour him and in time you will know his love even as you have ours.

Librarian Esperanza is quite severe in temperament and offensive in demand. Most of my fellow ushers seem quite cowed by her displays of distemper, but I shall not be so easily chastised. Her hands are calloused like those of a mean laborer, and her fingernails often well fouled with soiling.
I am a Foxmantle of landed heritage. She may find the common folk easily bent to her will, but I know well what is required of me in service to Oghma. Even Scholar Allbright has visited me at my station and remarked on my competence. By and anon Esperanza will learn her place, and rue the days she thought to use me as her page-turner. Scholar Allbright did suggest I might be suitable as his understudy…Father would be well pleased to know my craft is so quickly appreciated.

Scholar Allbright did intervene in my behalf today when Librarian Esperanza became unbridled in her chastisement of me. No doubt he was offended to see me brought her to tears beneath her vindictive assault. In truth I am shamed that I could not restrain my tears and look forward to the day I have better command of my emotions… would that I had mother’s composure…she would never allow a commoner to so wound her.
Scholar Allbright said he would seek permissions for me to access the second floor that I might aid him in research. Esperanza seemed quite displeased at the suggestion, no doubt jealous of my quick ascension beyond her reach.

I have been given permissions to service the second floor scholars. I now can walk past Esperanza and her minions and relish my ascent beyond the reach of her malevolence. Indeed I am hard pressed not to laugh out loud as she glares silently at me from behind the confines of her desk. If I were of similar nature to her I would condemn her to scholar Allbright and reveal the snide dispersions she offered me against him.

She had the effrontery to insinuate his true purpose in securing my service was carnal in nature rather than professional. Commoner intellect is so very limited and seems invariably to debase all higher purpose in reflection. Doubtless this vile inference came upon her in response to Scholar Allbright's habit of standing close to me when we speak.
Esperanza’s small mind cannot grasp the glorious nature of the pursuit we engage in at The Font of knowledge, or the fact that Scholar Allbright's hearing is not as keen as it was in his youth. Verily it is quite beyond her imagination that Scholar Allbright has seen in me the innate ability of noble pursuit in Lord Oghma’s name…or perhaps she has and merely has not the grace to resist jealousy of me.

In either case, I shall concern myself no longer with her banal insinuations and distemper…for before me lies the path I shall tread in dignity to validate the aspirations of mother and father. I shall not tell them as yet of my good fortune, but perhaps after the first triumph that Scholar Allbright and I attain.

No doubt it is soon at hand, for he has told me of an Illefarn potion formula he has nearly deciphered and wishes me to assist him with.

Administrator Fallnorth was very gracious when I approached him and spoke of my dilemma. Verily I know not how I summoned the courage to speak to him of my disgrace, and fully expected him to turn me away and send me to mother and father. I now know why father spoke so kindly of him in the past. He is truly a more than an astute scholar...he is a man of surpassing kindness.
When I told him of my past weeks of indecent dalliance with scholar Allbright, and the deceitful letters I have written to my parents to excuse my absence from their care, he proved himself uncommonly understanding of my shameful behavior. He has allowed me to stay in his study while he considers what I might do to recover my honour...though, in truth, I cannot imagine a means to that purpose... Virtue,once lost, cannot be regained.

I can hardly believe what has become of me these past weeks. I reflect back upon my conduct as a scholar might upon the behavior of a lab specimen. Was it really me who cast aside her pride to lie with a man unwed? Why was I not scandalized when he spoke to me as if I were a common whore? What was I thinking?

Recollection of these past weeks seems to emerge to me as from beyond a mist. I did so long believe that when I did one day give myself to a man it would be an occasion of great moment and circumstance. Have I not long dreamt of that happy event?… to stand before the alter of my Lord with my mate and bind our rejoined declarations of love, and within that mantle of sanctity, to submit myself to the embrace of my husband?

How has this happened and why can I not recall to mind the occasion?

I lay on his couch…he was speaking to me…but it was not me.
What was he saying?...Why can I not remember further? ...Am I truly such a casual and common strumpet that my shame is unknown to me? ...What was he saying?

“I would expect greater liveliness from one so young…you shall have to do better…”

How could he address me thus and I be not stricken with humiliation and outrage?

But I was not.

What did I answer? ...Why can I not remember?

Administrator Fallnorth returns…and with a tray of refreshments. It is well done for my throat is parched…I have had uncommon thirst of late.

He is smiling…perhaps he has discovered a solution to my plight.

When we attained the north shore of the river Ardeep this morn we found the bridge to be destroyed. Asio’s father believed it to be a trap set to waylay trade road travellers and bade his gypsy band not to attempt a crossing, but return to Waterdeep in all haste. My pleadings that we continue south were not well entertained until the Silver Lady smiled upon us and delivered unto us a band of druids who emerged from the east and declared the area devoid of ambushers.
Indeed they even went so far as to fashion ropes of uncommon strength from living vines that twined the trunks and branches of riverside trees. The crossing was well done and the gypsies now rejoice within their circled wagons. Asio was disappointed that I would not come to the fireside with his family and dance, but verily there is little joy in me that I might kindle, so it is best done that I recluse myself and bind some of the terrible events of these last months while I have a moments peace in the tent.

Administrator Fallnorth (may song be ever struck from his tongue and hearing), did betray me and denounce me as a harlot. I yet believe scholar Allbright and he did use magical potions to bend my unwary mind to their will, but I have no proof of this beyond my suspicions. Fallnorth declared that even if such potions were used they could be deployed to no great effect save if I were a strumpet to begin with. While this might be truly said of mundane charming potions, I suspect their craft exceeded the mundane.

It matters not, however, nor remains there any chance that I might reveal their wickedness to scrutiny, for although the full blame for my disgrace may not lie fairly upon me, the shame ever will remain mine. Even mother and father have turned from me and will not look upon me with affection again. The manifestations of my deceit offered them were presented in good order by Fallnorth, and I cannot now dispute that I did employ many devious measures to conceal my scandalous affairs from their sight and intervention.

I am completely undone and may not ever again enjoy the company Waterdavian society, nor enjoy the adoring gaze of my parents.

Verily, even now, I feel a new life swelling within my womb...but though I would once have thought this a wondrous blessing, I hide my morning discomfort and speak not of it. Though I cannot name who the father might be, I do know it cannot be Asio. Although I believe he doth love me, I now well know the selfishness that lies within the hearts of men, and cringe to think what might become of me should this manifestation of my shame become known

In retrospect I cannot imagine why I believed I might conceal my pregnancy from Asio and his family. Is it yet further indication of my continuing state of mental disarray, or am I even as Fallnorth claimed me to be: a frivolous and puerile trollop?
Perhaps both are true, for I was somehow taken quite unawares when Rebecca, the seemingly senior druidess, offered up my pregnancy for discussion.

Though I suspect Asio in unadulterated choice might have stood with me in my travail, his parents were understandably adamant in their condemnation. I did offer passing small defence or explanation of my predicament, for I found myself sorely wanting in justification given my foolish attempt at deception.
Verily, I feel myself beginning to bow beneath the weight of the unrelenting barrage of hardship that has been my lot these past months...it will be a welcome rejoinder to my calamity to take quiet refuge amongst the druids here in the Misty Forest. Perhaps it is my Resplendent Lord's will that I am delivered unto the path of wayfaring seeker rather than cloistered pedant.
Indeed the thought of a return to the confining walls of any my Lord’s libraries I now find abhorrent, and the fecund forest and it’s folk seem a salve to my wounded spirit.

The Misty Forest is quite beautiful, though my silks are quickly being ruined. Even with great effort, the forest seems to rend at them with purpose. I shall have to enquire after some leathers fashioned to accommodate my new home. Were it not for the new life growing within me, I should think myself an adventurer.
Rebecca and the others counsel I should remain ensconced within their glade, but I find myself drawn out into the wood to wander in wonderment at the staggering cascade of life there. Never did I imagine such flora and fauna would one day be before and all about me. I have met fairies, and a nymph, and even spoken to an animate tree that prodded me from blissful slumber.

It is my good fortune that Rebecca did offer to teach me the woodland tongue, else my encounter with the teant might not have been well done...Rebecca did inform me the treants are fond of crushing unwelcome intruders.

The new life within me doth swell with verve and has taken to kicking in retaliation to it’s confinement. When first this did occur, I am ashamed to bind here that I did near come to panic that I might be too young to bear a child, and cursed my misfortune to be burdened so. But Rebecca has assured me otherwise, and has promised me that she will see it well done.
I did not imagine it might come to pass, but I find myself anticipating it’s arrival with gladness. Though Rebecca (whom I suspect knows well it’s sex) will not tell me if it be boy or girl, I now know it to be a wondrous treasure. The taint that the conception was born upon me without love or sacrament is not the fault of my child, thus I shall affix no blame or bitterness to it.

Although Rebecca is seemingly solicitous and supportive of me, she doth seem somewhat oppressive in her attentions. On more than a few occasions when I thought myself alone in the wood, my quiet reflection was shattered to find her spying upon me. I should do well to thank her for her consideration of my inexperience, but something about her intense devotion to my welfare troubles me. I would be a fool and doubtless offer offense were I to insist that she and her band leave me to mine own devices.

Verily, I have no doubt that without the patronage of the druids I could not long survive in the wood, but I cannot help but begin to wonder if it is not so much me she cares for...but my unborn child. I can neither name nor well explain this unease I feel in Rebecca's presence, but the feeling doth persist.

Praise Oghma I have survived and my beautiful daughter is as vigorous as I am weakened by my labours. Verily she doth seem to glow in radiant perfection. I cannot well muster the strength to bind here now the bliss in which I now dwell, for my hand doth shake with weariness.
I thought I did well know something of the trials of birth giving, but in this single instance perhaps no binding doth suffice. Verily...though my spirit soars with gladness at the press of my hungry daughter to my tender breast, my body is sundered with exhaustion

Rebecca was true to her oath and ministered to me throughout my ordeal, even as I succumbed to duress and railed against her efforts. She did seem none to gentle in her efforts, but it is possible my perception is coloured by the intensity of my discomfort...nevertheless my daughter is delivered unto me and I am well pleased.

I refused to consume any of my daughter’s shroud as Rebecca did bid me do, and bade her bury it forthwith. Lo, methinks my refusal angered Rebecca and raised no small ire amongst her brethren, but I cannot imagine such an act as other than depraved and an affront to decency.

I suppose there is not to do but persevere. I can but hope Fiona yet smiles and enjoys the love and care of some woman more capable and worthy than I. I cannot bear contemplate a fate other than this for my precious baby. I can neither bind her fate, nor mine own...for both are unknown to me.

Rebecca claims it was my failing that I did not well espouse her woodland patron and that if I had been more adept in learning the lore of the Oak Father, I would still yet have Fiona clasped to my breast. Perhaps this is true, for I was trained as a scholar and am wanting in the traffic of spoken lore. The failing is mine, nevertheless the reason for it...and I now must bind it numbered among my many other failings.

Verily...how far I have fallen in my estimation of my own worth; am I indeed the daughter of my house, or some common churl mistakenly delivered unto my parents care? One thing is clear: I have disgraced myself in such profundity I shall further sully my family surname by claiming it mine own. I and my shame are both quite unknown her in Baldur’s Gate and I shall do my utmost to keep it so.
Indeed I have met some local heroes and presented myself as no more than Gwenevere of Oghma’s service and been neither pressed for greater detail nor disparaged for lack thereof. Perhaps I can attain some small measure of redemption in mine own right and learn from these good people the means to deliverance from my weakness and foolish nature. Perhaps even there is hope that one day I shall again find my precious Fiona hale and hearty and happily free of injury from my fault.

When I mentioned dark elves, Casen became angry. He claimed that Drow were not elves at all, but a despicable and ugly creatures of entirely different progeny. I did offer that I had heard they were quite comely of appearance, but he became more enraged and told me the story of Corellon, Lolth, and Eilistraee. In truth I had heard it before, but his anger was such that I feigned ignorance so he could purge his wrath with the telling of it.

He is a drunk and a thief, quick to anger and ill-considered vulgarities. Although I have tried to put him at ease, smiles and kind words seem futile effort with him. This is likely the result of the many years spent by him in the ducal dungeon. He may have been misused by other males and now eschews the affection of womenfolk. I have heard mention of such, perhaps in time I can ask him about it if his violent temperament shows some sign of moderating.

He spoke of being paroled into the custody of the woman Allina Du’monte and someone he named Redney of Torm. This was to have come about through some heroics involving slavers of some sort and a dark elf. He mentioned that Ashan Faewind and another aided as well, but that Ashan declined to accept responsibility over Casen.

I bind Casen here as having knowledge of Bolnak and her continuing atrocities to the regions children. Though I know not if he favours a single patron above others of the Seldarine, I name him Corellon’s creature. Though foul tempered and base, I do believe will willingly accepts the task that lies before us and have little concern that he will disgrace himself by shirking it.
He harbours a fierce hatred of Ashan and has spoken many hateful slurs towards him. Good Iolas did take offense at one such outburst and insisted on battle to settle the matter despite my protestations and suit for peace. Being foolish males, neither would heed my pleas and they did enjoin in battle anyway.

Good fortune prevailed and they both returned later with only slight injury, though the animosity amongst them remains, of course.

Though comely of feature, there is something strangely abhorrent about this woman. Ashan believes she may tap the abysmal magics and is fouled by them. I asked the magi Ferox his thoughts on her and he quickly volunteered that she was a witch. He believes witches draw their magics from abysmal patrons, usually by entering into a binding. He seemed equally convinced this did not imply evil or falsehood on her part. I find this intriguing and although it bears further research and likely fruitful knowledge for my journal in the future, at present I feel compelled to let the matter lie that we all may concentrate on the matters at hand.

I cannot seem to find a means of insight with this woman. She is both fierce of temperament and yet chill of heart. It is as if she has suffered grievous injury in her past and has hardened herself to this world in response. When I speak to her I feel no bond of womanhood, though perhaps this is my failing or the influence of the copious amounts of alcohol she consumes.
I herein bind Allina Du’Monte as having knowledge of Bolnak and her continuing atrocities to the regions children. The Silver Lady Tymora is her patron.

She, like Casen, seems to harbor animosity toward Ashan, and though not as obstinately hateful as the drunken thief, it remains a difficult task to maintain unity in the face of it. She has agreed to seek out the magi Zendor through a contact (though she seems strangely reluctant to do so or even admit knowledge of such).

He is gruff, surly, and smells of one unfamiliar with Baldur’s Gate’s excellent bathhouse. He has but one eye, and walks with a limp. But he bears a warrior’s chain easily and I saw him fell a goblin with a single shot at greater the two score paces. When I told him of Bolnak’s siege and the plight of the region’s children he readily offered his service to the cause.

**page of text marked through**

His patron is Kelemvor and he stood with the host of heroes of Baldur's Gate at the east bridge and aided in the destruction of Bombara at the Freindly Arm ramparts. He has shown himself a hero and a stalwart servant of his patron.

**The following notes are on the page with Modok's sketch, but have been marked through with a single pen stroke:

Gwenevere: [Talk] *tosses a stone into water*

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] don’t leap. It is not that bad.

Gwenevere: [Talk] *looks up* Oh! …Hello, good sir *curtsies*…I am Gwen

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] you certainly don't wish to end your life, do you?

Gwenevere: [Talk] No...Not just yet *smiles wanly*. But, in truth, this city is troubled…and these are indeed dark days

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] Then it is best to seek fellows who are handy in dangerous situations.

Gwenevere: [Talk] Are you such a one, good sir? For this city is in dire need of heroes.

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] I am no shopkeeper, certes.

Gwenevere: [Talk] I see you wear the warrior's metal...Have you been told of the Hag Bolnak?

Gwenevere: [Talk] Perhaps you've come to lend your sword to the cause? *looks hopeful*

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] I have not been told of this hag.

Gwenevere: [Talk] Oh, dear...just as well, I suppose...*looks a bit crestfallen*…For if you had known of her, you likely would not have come hither

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] I am fit and ready for whatever challenge I can meet.

Gwenevere: [Talk] The words of a hero ...*smiles, curtsies again*... I am gladdened to hear such.

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] I am ignorant of this hag, and I am no hero, sure.

Gwenevere: [Talk] The hag has this city under siege...She has raised a foul and vast army of walking dead…she kidnaps helpless children from their mothers...mutilates them, and then sacrifices them to fuel her abominable magics

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] By the black sack of Bhaal, she set it under siege just after she let me in--damnation and good luck! After a couple of hours that must be worrisome, sure.

Gwenevere: [Talk] Oh...she does not march her foul horde about the gates, sir…she is far more clever than that…they lurk in the wood and behind magical fogs...

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] Well, by the wandering god's heel, who else has spine enough to look into this matter?

Gwenevere: [Talk] Alas...It seems we are divided in purpose...

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] Well, then, people will die.

Gwenevere: [Talk] Fair Allina and her drunken thief Casen do refuse to rejoin with sir Ashan and magi Ferox …the comely Leah and I are left in between...So no force of heroes can seem to be mustered...

Gwenevere: [Talk] The Hag no doubt takes glee in this...For she grows stronger by the day as our heroes argue

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] I am no go-between; I have the mouth of a soldier and have no guile, so seek no hope in my help.

Gwenevere: [Talk] *eyes begin to tear* But the children...their cries are carried on the wind

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] Well, it will be as it must be. The world is a cruel place and no god promised them joy. But still something can be done.

Gwenevere: [Talk] The hope and future of this land dies with them

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] It is...possible. But first, it seems wise to consult with these two you spoke of.

Gwenevere: [Talk] Indeed the world is cruel...I am traveler...not a milkmaid. But children are the exception...whosoever abandons them, abandons hope. The hag must be stopped

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] Well, the first thing that must be done, is we must know whether our strength is enough to do anything.

Gwenevere: [Talk] Indeed...I would beseech you seek out Ashan...or Allina. If a force can be mustered I will aid as I can

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] What sort of man is this Ashan?

Gwenevere: [Talk] A paladin of Mystra

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] Mystra is a strange god.

Gwenevere: [Talk] And although an exceptional man...he has all the weaknesses of his sex. He speaks of barter and compromise...and strategy....

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] Good! A man of sense, then. Perhaps I will not die in this venture.

Gwenevere: [Talk] Others cannot bear to hear such talk and demand swift action. In truth his words injure me...for I bleed inside for the children...but he is brave and true...

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] As ill as it is to hear; only a fool will rush in. You say that you know of only a few who have strength to face this hag--who will replace us if we fall?

Gwenevere: [Talk] I fear none can stand against her but we all combined. Even Ashan could not hope for victory without aid. Somehow we must find a way...*trails off, looks past Modok*

Casen Laslis: [Talk] **walks up with a smile and leans back against the stone work of the bridge**

Gwenevere: [Talk] Ahhh... *curtsies* ...It is Casen

Casen Laslis: [Talk] **tips his hat to the man wearing an eye patch**

Gwenevere: [Talk] Casen...this warrior has just arrived...

Casen Laslis: [Talk] **looks the man over as if appraising him and his weapons**

Gwenevere: [Talk] He...*breaks off and looks up at Modok* …What is your name, good sir? You have not said

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] I am of the Valhingen family, called Modok.

Casen Laslis: [Talk] **nods slowly**

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] I have to say, I am disturbed by this lass and her tale. What say you elven fellow?

Gwenevere: [Talk] I was just telling Modok of the Hag...

Casen Laslis: [Talk] Casen Laslis of Ardeep......Welcome to the city, there is work for a swordsman who is willing to earn his coin...Tell me Modok are you looking for work?

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] I am no tradesman looking to hire on, if that's what you mean…but I do not shy away from a task.

Casen Laslis: [Talk] Should I take that to mean you are a warrior who is more interested in causes then he is coin?...because if so, there is a band looking to seek out this Hag Bolnak, and they need capable hands.

Gwenevere: [Talk] *falls silent, looks from one to the other*

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] I don't like the walking dead, and the girl has told me that this place is lousy with them.

Casen Laslis: [Talk] Gwen, myself...and a few others are looking to do something about that...if you are willing to join the cause; I can assure you that you would be welcomed. The short of it is there is a powerful hag with a small army of undead who is hiding in an old cabin in the Woods of Sharp Teeth...she has been collecting children to fuel her dark arts and will likely be making advances on the city soon...

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] *furrows brow* Girl, did you not just say that Casen here was not of a mind to join in this cause?

Casen Laslis: [Talk] **looks to Gwen**

Gwenevere: [Talk] No, good Modok...I did not.

Casen Laslis: [Talk] **raises an eyebrow**

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] Well, then, look to my hair and beard--there is my excuse and defense.

Gwenevere: [Talk] What I meant to say is that our heroes are divided

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] Ah, I perceive now...Means, not ends, are at cross purposes?

Casen Laslis: [Talk] **looks to Modok** Yes the short of it ends with a band of swordsmen, arcanist, and clergy seeking out this Hag and putting an end to her...some folks though believe negotiations are in order...actually one man believes that....

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] *purses his lips* Is this man normally of his wits?

Gwenevere: [Talk] Two...unfortunately, Casen…number the drunken magi with Ashan

Casen Laslis: [Talk] Ashan a Poor excuse for a Paladin who in my opinion is rather soft in the head and heart.

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] Hmmm… I am unburdened by knowing anything of this man or the situation, so I can speak freely. Hear me out:

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] Either this Ashan knows something that is unknown to others, or he is weak and unfit.

Casen Laslis: [Talk] I am willing to wager on the second being true.

Gwenevere: [Talk] *frowns, remains silent*

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] If I learn more, I will say more, but as it is, this seems so. Girl, what does your heart tell you?

Gwenevere: [Talk] *looks toward Casen warily*

Casen Laslis: [Talk] **looks to Gwen and grins** Yes Gwen what does your heart say?

Gwenevere: [Talk] Ashan is brave and true. But he is at core a magi…and a man.

Gwenevere: [Talk] He confounds common sense by reflection and has spent years hardening his heart...so that he is nearly deaf to what it should tell him

Gwenevere: [Talk] And that is we must strike her down in all haste… and burn her

Casen Laslis: [Talk] **winces and shakes his head before grinning** ...You are so full of Troll Drop Gwen....sometimes I do not know if you actually believe the lies you shovel, or if you say such ridiculous things to hide your true feelings...Brave and True? ...*chuckles*

Gwenevere: [Talk] *looks up at Casen defiantly*

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] *Speaks to himself* I have never known a paladin whose hand doesn't leap to the hilt when word that the dead have risen up comes to his ear. This is passing strange.

Gwenevere: [Talk] He has proven he is valiant many times over

Casen Laslis: [Talk] **chuckles**

Gwenevere: [Talk] He is simply...cold inside. In truth I hardly understand…though I have taken note of many such males in the past. He values reason above all else…and is, in truth, blinded by it

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] Thinkin' don't get it done. *spits*

Casen Laslis: [Talk] I assure you Gwen, Ashan being a fool and a hard headed coward does not make him unique, just a poor excuse for what he claims to be, which is a paladin

Gwenevere: [Talk] I do not wish to quarrel again, Casen...I care not what you think of me...I am a woman used to such treatment

Casen Laslis: [Talk] His reasons are thin...very thin excuses for cowardice, either that or he is oblivious to the reality he lives in....either way he is both a coward and a liar, or a fool in the truest sense of the word.

Gwenevere: [Talk] *eyes are wet*

Casen Laslis: [Talk] **shakes his head and looks to Modok**

Casen Laslis: [Talk] Gwen gets emotional....

Gwenevere: [Talk] *turns away when Casen speaks of it, wipes face with a cloth*

Casen Laslis: [Talk] More importantly though...are you interested in helping save the region? You may get a medal or something.

Modok Valhingen: [Talk] I have two ears and one mouth... I think it best to listen for now and decide later.

Ashan Faewind, paladin of Mystra, and hero of Baldur’s Gate. This handsome male vexes me greatly. I know him to be valiant and a stalwart protector of companions, women, and children, but he yet he is cold inside. He values reason above all else and methinks has sacrificed feeling upon that alter.

On occasion I find myself compelled to lay my virtue at his feet, but in the next moment must restrain myself from striking him. His heart is beyond my reach, and though I have been told that Jolene did capture him briefly, methinks he has the soul of a magi and will die alone and unloved. May time prove me wrong in this, but I fear for him. In truth, I suppose, it may be that he knows me to be a vessel once used and discarded. Though it pains me to reflect on it, one cannot assume magi blind to vision beyond eye sight.
He is a fierce warrior. I have many times seen his blade pass through and halve a foe in a single stroke, only to continue on and fell the next.

Though his heart is concealed from me, and many have questioned his honour and his courage, I know him to be a true hero and do bind myself to his defense. I believe without his aid we cannot hope to fell and burn Bolnak, and I pledge myself to see him prevail in this task, or die with him in the effort.

She was at the Silverymoon rivers edge with a large male. The musical sound of her laughter from the road had sounded like a bird call, and in fact I thought I was searching out some new and unknown night bird to bind in my journal.

There was no fire. They ate the fish raw. The moonlight glowed in her silver hair and framed her dark face in a pale glow. Her beauty, even from a distance, was such that I felt drawn forward, despite the foolishness of approaching two strangers off the road at night.

I recall nothing of the male to bind here, other than his light coloured hair had a dark stripe down the middle, from forehead to nape of neck. He mostly sat hunched over his fish, methinks, eating with the crudeness often displayed by ruffians. He did, in fact, speak some vulgarity that did injure me; causing me to remember my mission, though I cannot recall it now.

But she was exquisite. I did not realize she was a dark elf until I was drawn to near to retreat unnoticed. I remembered immediately Casen’s words on Drow, and knew that they had a reputation as being passing wicked, but her visage was rapturous. I found myself strangely captive to her, even before she saw me. She was only eating a cold fish; it gripped lifeless and glistening in her delicate fingers, but it was as if she danced with it somehow...and, in truth, I envied the fish her attention.
I asked her if I could sketch her image in my journal, and she laughed and agreed. She even struck a flattering pose that I might bind her image more readily. I cannot recall her words to me, verily I was remiss in my duties, for she was the first dark elf I have yet to see, and all I have for it is an image, and the recollection of the strange emotions she did stir in me. I wanted to put down my inks and take up my comb and brush her hair for her. Or oil her smooth black skin. I think not myself a deviant, and such feelings as she evoked in me were queer indeed. Methinks the rumours of dark elf magic may be well founded.

Wherein I would expect to feel jealousy for such a one, I did feel perverse adoration. More research is needed in this, but with greater caution, perhaps.

I do now recall some words of the base male who attended her. He said that children merited no special consideration, and that the hag Bolnak’s atrocities were no cause for concern.

His cruel words did prompt angery and unwise retort from me, though I cannot recall what it was. To my surprise he did not rise in anger or threatening gesture in keeping with his loathsome nature, but merely laughed at my injury. I fled straight away to be safely from him.