Fugue state of mind

[Riotnrrd]

Thus begins the diary of a human man, perhaps known as Marcus Wands. It is my hope that within these pages, my words might help me to discover who I was... or who I am still.

My first firm memory was of great pain, three days ago, when I awoke standing on a small road on a hillside. A blinding white stroke to the head greeted me there, and as I staggered to gain my balance, a rough word from a guard accusing me of drunkenness and impeding traffic. I was not drunk, or at least... there was no smell of drink, at least not that of the inhabitants of the local inn, and there was no other traffic to speak of. The man did push me into the gutter, and I can confess that I did huddle there some time, attempting to discern... where I was. And more disconcerting... who... I was. But my mind remains mostly empty, like the glass ball I have discovered in my belongings.

This place deeply scares me. The men are rough and callous, the women wanton slatterns. In my pack I have long black robes of a type unseen in this land, save perhaps the dark elf in the tall tower of the port. I believe I am fortunate that I did not arrive wearing those, but instead a well worn fine tunic and thick traveling cloak, both bearing strange runes enscribed along the hems. The greetings I offer are typically rewarded with snarls and curses. I was wearing gold when I came here, a fine golden circlet and golden rings, as well as a shiny silver amulet. I have removed them, for I believe the inhabitants of this land would take them from me. I have also purchased a hat typical of the local style; for some odd reason the hat seems very familiar to me, but I feel that it should be red instead of the charcoal color it is.

I have discovered within this port its name, Skaug, as well as several shops and inns, most of poor quality, as well as a library. The library strikes a chord within me; it is a small and dirty place, with a few dozen tomes, and I feel that I should be at home here, but the comfort brings with it a feeling of deep unease and sadness. I cannot guess at why this might be. However, the library has quite a bit of useful information. I know how to read, and find what I need within its confines. So I now know where I am, at least names, though few of them mean a thing to me.

A few words about my possessions. Thankfully I have arrived with a great number of curious items stowed about my person, which help to offer clues to my identity. Several tomes of greater age and content than those within this library here, detailing ancient histories of elves and gods, and cataloging various sorts of undead. A few dozen silver scales, which I now have reason to believe are dragon scales. A crystal ball, of the kind used by wizards for divinations. A very nice lute. A spellbook, until last night incomprehensible to me (more on that later). Several trinkets that appear magical and expensive whose purposes I have not yet divined. Dozens of sheets of parchment which I believe to be magical scrolls, though I can read none of them. Various bits of chalk, rope, and other miscellaneous gear.

Oh... the man is telling me the library is closed. I shall continue later at the Apple Barrel Inn, after my nightly concert.

[Blindhamsterman]

great to have you back mate, and a lot of fun to get a couple of hours RP with you last night

[jmecha]

Good read you SOB, welcome back to the fold.

[Riotnrrd]

I have been in this place for some days, trying to find a safe place for myself in this port, and trying to find myself within myself. Ensconced in the privacy of the library (for rarely does anyone venture to enter), I was able to examine myself and my belongings in greater detail, and listen to the heart deep within me for some sense of reaction to my thoughts. It is clear I am a man of no small means, for much of what I carry I know to be valuable, as well as a sizable purse. It would appear I have some sense of fine things, for when I walk through the market I am able to pick out the finest and most expensive goods with ease. I have no particular desire to purchase finery, but I feel comfortable in the market and believe I have spent a great deal of time buying and selling.

I must now speak of my experiences within the Apple Barrel Inn, and the knowledge to which they have led. I am drawn to quality and comfortable lodgings, and in my limited experience in this port, such is of short supply. The Apple Barrel Inn, however, is a fine place to relax, having two full-time musicians, and a staff slightly less surly than is typical in this land, as well as a good selection of palatable food and wine, particularly the apple brandy that is a regional staple. It is in this Inn I first found a modicum of emotional comfort. On first of the tenday, the lesser skilled are permitted to climb the steps of the stage and offer amateur performance to the crowd, and so I decided that I might make some friends by safe exposure there. Thus far the greater skill at lutecraft and song has eluded me, but the emotional outlet is something that I have found I desperately crave. I find that I remember the words to a few songs, mostly of death and ancient elven kingdoms, though why this may be I could not say. The feeling I have when I play these songs is a curious mixture of sweetness and sadness, which is a realization of my greater state of mind. Why?

When last I offered song on the stage, I was surprised to find that someone was actually listening to what I had to say. A tall and ruddy raven-haired elf, bearing a fine sword approached me, and after some ... confusion on my part, I learned that he was called Lynx. It became clear that he was not one to brook idle conversation, and unfortunately I quickly showed myself to be the empty headed fool I am. I was, however, fortunate to discover that I speak the Elven tongue, and while he obviously did not care to hear the words of 'The People', as he called them, coming from my lips, we were able to continue conversation. It is also fortunate that I bear in my possession a translation of an ancient tome of Elven history, detailing the arrival of Lynx's people from a land called Faerie, many thousands of years ago; for in quoting some of the text I managed to erase some of my earlier verbal blunders.

I was shocked to discover he knew me, or at least, knew of me. For you see, I had managed to guess my own name, or at least, the name of the one whom had crafted many of the possessions I carry, and when I shared this name, he had heard it. It would seem that he and I both briefly attended what is called The Lady's College of Magic, in a city called Silverymoon, and though I do not remember him, nor he me, he showed me his enrollment card to the college, which matched exactly the symbols embossed upon several keys and books in my possession. Lynx seemed to think that I might be a wizard of some stature there. I must confess, the thought of discovering my true identity fills me simultaneously with a great curiosity and a deep, foreboding dread. I have no immediate desire to return to that place, and for now I shall accept this feeling and try to recover more of myself before returning there.

It was about this time a man entered, dressed in a curious suit of some chitinous armor (research note: I used this word without thinking, my research indicates the word chitinous refers in this context to the naturally secreted exoskeleton of certain invertebrate creatures. I have identified this breastplate as previously belonging to an Umberhulk, and further found that I appear to know a great deal about taxonomy of abberational as well as natural creatures). I took no initial notice of the man, for it was clear he took pains to remain inconspicuous. Later, however, the man cast a thrice of spells, and without thinking I uttered a word of power, a divination of magic detection. My brain was flooded with an overlay of a parallel reality of magical auras, permeating the air, suffusing my own person, and the belongings of my companion Lynx. The natural consequence of this was that a new path of knowledge was opened to me. I am now certain that I am a wizard, and not just a thief or imposter of my own possessions.

This discovery led to another, and upon speaking another word I was able to read my spellbook and several scrolls I carry. Many of the symbols remain as gibberish. The first pages are clear enough, and with great effort and study I have begun to understand the formulae which compose the recipes of power. Unfortunately I can yet grasp very little, and in truth have not much concept of my true power, nor how to activate the items of power I carry.

Lynx was useful in a number of other ways. I believe he found some respect for me, knowing a bit more of my origin, for he softened greatly and offered information, namely the names of a brace of his trusted companions, including one Laniara, a wizard of great power, rumored to hold the secret to teleportation. Perhaps she might help me discover more about myself, if I can manage to find her. Additionally Lynx provided information on how I might return to the Silver Marches, should I desire to do so, though he cautioned it would be many days by ship, and no small amount of gold for expenses.

I shall catalogue now in greater detail additional clues I have gleaned in my time here:

I bear several items with my own name as wizard mark, signifying I am a creator of magics, or perhaps simply possessed of a great vanity. Particularly meaningful to me are my cloak, my tunic, my gloves, my boots, and the golden circlet I yet fear to wear openly.

The lute I bear is much finer than my skill has yet awakened, and as mentioned above, what I lack in skill I seem to possess in desire. Like much of my new life, it brings me mixed sadness and joy to hold it.

I carry several books bearing what I now know to be the seal of the Lady's College, including the following:
The Elestar: an ancient history of the arrival of the elves, and the rise and fall of an ancient kingdom called Occidan. I can barely write that word here, for my hand uncontrollably shakes and I feel a great dread upon even reading it
A book on Labelas Enoreth, called the Lifegiver or the Lord of the Continuum, and assorted notes on time conduits and time manipulation
Zombies, Skeletons, Ghosts, and Wights, a tome on the taxonomy of lesser undead. While I feel this should disgust me, I find it somewhat fascinating... and remember, again with a mix of strength and sadness, a raven haired knight bearing a great silver shield, and speaking with a gravely voice, and his consort, of whom I can remember only the face of a shark
Yestering with Yanathalil: a set of notes regarding time manipulation, written in a tight but decorative script, signed by a man called Cornelius. This name brings me to tears each time I read it... who is he?
Xorn, Creatures of the Deep: detailing the habits and taxonomy of these earth creatures
Time's Witness – Another tome regarding time manipulation, and the habits of the Elestar. That name again... and more study of time! What was I involved in? For surely the gods frown upon such things. Could this be why my mind is gone?

I also bear a cheap tin badge, I know now to be of the Argent Legion Militia in the marches. Clearly I am no soldier, why would I be carrying this worthless trinket? But I do remember a halfling warrior, and a crude village on a river.

I carry a dwarven runestone. It is enscribed, and thus I know I can read the dwarven tongue as well. The rune means 'Shield Brother'. This item gives one of the strongest reactions, one of simultaneous reverence and annoyance. I don't remember having a brother, but if I did I imagine it might feel something like this.

It seems clear I was engaged in some dangerous business, and my mind recoils from comprehension as if jerking my hand in reflex from a candleflame. It is nearly overwhelming. I must move carefully lest I jar something loose, and become lost once again in the ethereal (figuratively, I suppose).

I have had several other revelations, since.

My hands are not soft as I would imagine those of a wizard to be, but rather calloused as if they had recently known manual labor. When I look at them, I see beautiful fields of wheat... though surely I am no farmer.

The elf Lynx used the word Master when speaking to me. I believe he was speaking of a scholarly title, but the word fills me with revulsion. Was I a slave? Or a master? Or something else?

I found a mercenary hall, and within heard the name Barid Mosinel – this name brings me deep sadness, and a vision of a group of people sitting on a hill in the morning sun, before a quaint cottage and small farm, as well as a black fist on gleaming armor (research note: this is the symbol of Bane), though I have no memory of the man himself.

Silverymoon – a silver ghost dragon, faint otherworldly music, and a great contentment, honor, and joy

For now I shall set down my pen, and continue my investigations.

[Vendrin]

((good reads man, wb))

[dergon darkhelm]

like!

[jmecha]

MORE!

[Riotnrrd]

I think I almost died tonight.

Rats. Trapped in a dungeon by huge rats. Covered with maggots, dozens of them, and a large hairy mother rat, as big as a calf.

I do not know if I am religious, but I praise whatever gods will hear me for my narrow escape tonight. It wasn't what I was trying to do, but nothing else worked. I think I became some sort of giantkin? A troll maybe? I'll have to find out how to do that again. Note to self: don't do it in public. They might not understand. I wonder if this is what a wizard's life is like?

It is said Barid cannot be trusted. I'm starting to believe it. Did he leave me down there trapped by those things on purpose? Was it some sort of cruel test?

I need to find out who this Madeline is. Why would she send a magical sending? How does she know my name? Is she a murderer of innocents as Barid says?

She was right. Skaug is dangerous. Stupid rats. I need to find her.

[NESchampion]

((This is fantastic.))

[Riotnrrd]

I have been spending a lot of time in the so-called library of Skaug, learning more about the islands and my own powers. I have determined that the troll form spell I recently cast is known as a Polymorph spell, a fourth circle spell of immense utility. It would appear I was a mage of no meager power. Unfortunately, my last experience in the mercenary house has spoken against my returning to practice there, and in fear of drawing unwanted attention I cannot practice on the streets, nor seek my own privacy in the wilds without knowing more of their dangers. I have stopped in to try and find Barid twice sense, I am told only that he is away on business, and will return soon. I wish to give him this key, as we agreed I would before leaving the isles, and thus be free to travel once again.

I spent the better part of the day high in the wizards tower of the pirate isle, conversing with the wizard regarding a number of spells in his inventory. Many of the symbols on his scrolls are now comprehensible to me, the formulae of power approximating the rituals within my own tome of spells. Many of his spells are new to me and my spellbook, but the arcane spells within his possession would appear to be within my power to master. My sense of confidence and self-worth is increasing daily, but something within me cries out to be careful, to be slow, to be thoughtful. I have learned to trust my instincts, for in this place, lacking friends and memory, instinct is most of what I have left to guide me.

As I was returning from the wizard tower, I came across a man, standing on the high road, looking out over the town at sunset. He said his name was Kallun, and named himself a part of Barid’s mercenary company. In truth I had heard of the man twice before; once from the lips of the elf Lynx, and once from the lips of Barid himself. The information I have says that this Kallun is a monk of the Old Order, and the only explanation I have been able to find suggests that these monks are largely inscrutable and resistant to investigation. My limited experience with Kallun supports this. Lynx had said the man was worthy of some degree of trust, however Barid had named the man Kallun his second, and with my recent experiences with Barid, I was hesitant to trust too much. Kallun said that he was in need of an arcanist, and I suppose that would explain why he was lurking so near the wizard’s tower, to catch those such as myself departing from there.

It is a difficult thing, trusting strangers, when only so recently trust has led me to near death. As the sun set and Kallun engaged me in conversation, I moved closer towards the light, to better detect any approaching threat. Now, Lynx had showed himself worthy of some degree of consideration, for he did warn me that Barid was not to be trusted, and so I had found it to be. His vouching for this man Kallun was enough to prevent my immediate retreat, but Kallun’s manner was not one to inspire trust or confidence. He has shown himself to be extremely averse to conversation, especially in matters regarding himself. He is also quite impatient, and to my surprise I have noticed of late my particular aversion to haste. For my own safety (and I was quite hungry this late in the evening), I suggested we retire to the Apple Barrel for further conversation, and Kallun reluctantly agreed.

I must comment here that one minor incident on the way brought me some modicum of security in Kallun’s presence. He suggested I avoid magical light (being quite dark), to prevent drawing attention to myself. If this is a lie, or duplicitous to serve his own agenda, I still found his advice prudent, and chose to follow it. So this man is not without sense… if only in his self-preservation, and that of those that might be useful to him.

He offered me gold to accompany him on a search of a mysterious and vague magical event of recent past. I told him that I was more interested in information than gold, and that I was not prepared to offer my assistance without knowing more of the task. Kallun’s resistance continued, until I offered some of my own tale regarding my recent accident and loss of memory. He seemed to become quite interested, and though I do not know why, it is clear he bears some interest in arcane devices. I have learned since he bears some allegience to a mistress of a pleasure house in Alaron, the civil seat of power for the Moonshaes. I asked him of his own motivation for pursuing this object; as stated above he became very agitated when I asked him of this, though he claimed that to his master (the mistress Pastha?), the matter was one of benevolent altruism.

Kallun claimed to know both Madeline and Laniara, two of the wizards whom I sought, and we struck a deal that I would accompany him to the Mages Tower of Alaron, and he would tell me how and where to find these wizards. It also happened that the location of the Mages Tower, matched the information given to me by Lynx, of where I might find Laniara, so I agreed to follow him, and we began our journey.

The first stop was a place called Caer Cromwell, to which I had travelled once before on a short day trip. Lynx pointed out two taverns which the wizards allegedly frequented. We also chanced to come across a strange being, one that I surprisingly recognized as a water genasi. It has since become clear I know a great deal about the planes, and I believe I had studied genasian culture in depth at some point in the past, but I do not know that I have ever met another being of his kind. He was huge, but only slightly larger than the huge waraxe he bore on his back. I also purchased some new strings for my lute in a fine shop.

I convinced Kallun to briefly stop in the taverns, that we might determine if either of the wizards was currently in residence.

I met Madeline there. I should rather say, I re-met Madeline there, for she clearly recognized me (and her voice was that of the magical sending I had received a few days prior). She is not unattractive, and excessively neat in appearance (especially in comparison to my travel stained clothing and hair), though her eyes bear some sign of undue strain. On seeing her face, I also remembered meeting her at the Lady’s College, for we studied together in its halls. Madeline says she is a necromancer, that she graduated from the Lady’s College (and so did I, apparently). Incidentally, later she told me that I was not a necromancer, but seemed somewhat offended that I was relieved to hear this. I have found someone who knew me before, a connection to my past, and I am loathe to let her go. She agreed to follow us to the tower in Alaron. The genasi Zyrus also decided to accompany us.

Outside the gates, on the road to another town, one of our party spied a few goblins hiding among the rushes in the swamp. It was my desire to pass them by, for our errand lay beyond, and they did not seem to menace us; however the group consensus was that these creatures were ‘fodder’, and should be destroyed. I must mention here a particular revulsion; I was momentarily struck mute by a powerful memory of my past; a mountain valley, formerly populated by an orcish tribe, slaughtered to the last woman and child, and a particularly saddening corpse of an infant girl, clutching a stuffed rabbit, with her head caved in by a soldier’s mace. I do not know why I carry this evocative memory so vividly in my head, nor why it makes me feel as strongly as it does.

While engaged in these thoughts, my companions attacked, and there was no more time for conscious thought. My reflexes took over, and I immediately activated the force armor contained within my tunic. Simultaneosly I noticed Madeline cast a spell of mirror duplicates, and rememberd I had prepared this very same spell for experimentation, and cast it myself. Next came a magical shield, and as I was casting I noticed my companions Kallun and Zyrus closing for battle.

It is unfortunate that no one tried to scout before beginning the battle, and many of my companions nearly lost their lives (though I remained untouched throughout), for there were far more goblins than they had thought, and better armed and prepared to receive us. I had scarcely begun to enter the fray when the second wave was closing. I cast a spell of slumber, another first circle experiment, and was greatly relieved to see a half dozen of the goblins fall in their tracks. Another spell brought a scare to the second wave, and two of them ran for their lives. I attempted to lay a puddle of grease to further control the battlefield, but it was inffective, if not for my poor aim, also because the swamp is not conducive to such tricks.

A few magical missiles sped from my fingertips, but alas the target was dead by Zyrus’ blade before they landed. I could not accurately place a snowball storm due to the disarray of my companions, and my fear of hitting them. Seeing my companions surrounded, I quickly closed to bring a spell of strength to the warrior Zyrus, though I did not have time to judge its effect, for shortly thereafter at least four goblins were surrounding me, and I found myself running for my life.

A prismatic spray halted two of them, but another two took their place, and two of my mirror images were destroyed when struck by the goblin’s cruel swords. I remembered my earlier experiment with a fan of flames, and as I spread my hands, a wicked arc of fire burst forth and caught three of them with infernal flame, dropping them in the swamp for good. Unfortunately, in my panic I did not see the monk closing upon their rear, and my flames caught him as well, cauterizing his open wounds and burning his tunic quite badly. Later I offered an apology, and though I know he heard it, he chose to ignore it. I hope he can forgive me… such friendly fire cannot much foster group morale.

Someone, perhaps Madeline, made a comment that the battle had not gone smoothly, and I must agree. At this I was caught with another flash of memory, training with a dark haired man in an underground tomb; a friendly duel, which I lost (repeatedly). Who was this man, and where is he now? I also remember a circular room, in a high tower, strewn with targets, and the smell of brimstone and electricity… where was that? The college? I believe I have studied group tactics, and will have to research this at my next point of leisure. Surely better information would help to ensure victory in the face of superiour odds? Our battle was uncoordinated, we had no plan, and we underestimated the enemy. This is no way to fight.

It was about this time we came across a young halfling, and I must confess she did somewhat take my eye. She is perhaps 7 stone in weight, but perfectly proportioned, and her mail shirt rather attractively framed her many assets; I got an even better look later in the bathhouse of the dance hall. Her name is Buttercup, and I hope to have the chance to speak with her more in the near future.

Alaron is an amazing city, especially compared to the dungheap that is Skaug. We proceeded to the Mages Tower there, where I was informed my arrival here caused a large rift in the weave. I’m not certain why the high mages and Kallun seem so convinced of this, and it is greatly irritating to be held accountable for something not under my control, but so it is. I have been prescribed rest, and am to assist in the exploration of this incident when I am ready.

I must describe here one unfortunate memory. I managed to place the name ‘Cornelius’, of whom I wrote before, regarding his inscription in one of the books in my possession. His name was Dean Cornelius Vihuel, a diviner of great power, and the administrative head of the Lady’s College of Magic. He is now … dead. Hearing his full name brought forth a wave of sadness and depression, for I now believe he was a mentor and I respected him greatly. It occurs to me that much of my former life must have been painful, and that I will have to take up that pain again as my memories return. Is it possible perhaps there are some things better left forgotten? I suppose time will tell.

We then proceeded to the dance hall. This is a place I can feel at home. I am certain I have been to halls like this before; the women are high class entertainers, the drinks are strong and of goodly quality, there are heated and perfumed baths. It is fortunate I came to this place with gold, for I spent dozens upon my immediate arrival here (much to Madeline’s chagrin), and at least a hundred more since. It is easy to rationalize excess when so much has been taken, and uncertainty and fear has gripped me as long as I can remember. However, Madeline spoke wisely when she advised that I would soon be parted from my purse, and I have begun to consider cutting back my consumption of women and wine.

The mistress of the hall is a Madame Pastha, and I learned here Kallun appears to bear her some allegiance, for she is one of those whom had contracted him to find me. I have subsequently heard that, according to Kallun, she pays well but those that work for her, do so for other reasons. He also insinuated her motivation is altruistic. I must discover more about this woman Pastha.

For now I must depart, as it is time for my afternoon massage with Suzanna.

[Riotnrrd]

Today was a good day. I have now mastered all of my first and second level spells, and I memorized a few of the third circle to practice today. I met Kallun en route to the Mage's Tower, and while I did not find a suitable practice environment within, I convinced him to aid me in some field research of my spells.

He took me first to an orchard outside a hin village, where apparently they do not share the same superstitious fears of magic as most of the Ffolk. Kallun allowed me to test a bolt of weakness on him, which worked quite well, and then I practiced a necromantic incantation of health on myself (note: again I recall the raven haired paladin, and this time a more specific memory: he actually sponsored one of my wizard friends to learn necromancy, to better fight undead. Why can't I remember the scholar's face?). I also tried a spell of cat's grace on Kallun, with which he seemed somewhat pleased (though it is very difficult to detect any emotion on his face, save distaste, with which he is fairly free).

It would seem Kallun is open to the idea of more disciplined combat, so we largely worked on some tactical spells that I had prepared for battlefield control. First came a web, then a stinking cloud, and a brace of companions, one of haste and slow. The web was particularly effective, and haste as well. Kallun is very fast under normal conditions, but under a spell of speed he is amazingly (somewhat terrifyingly) fast. I would not wish his ire to be directed upon me, of that I am certain.

Our next spells were slightly more dangerous, so we moved into the grasslands just outside town. Earlier Kallun had spoken somewhat of the local history of the Isles, the Fey natives and their corruption at something he called (I believe) moon pools. He mentioned these fey were quite dangerous, and that they were known to beguile the mind. So, to test this I first warded his mind with a protective spell, then attempted to cast a spell of bewilderment, to see if I could break it. The protection held, but I was unable to further test the bewilderment upon him directly as I had but one prepared.

It is at this point I moved directly into the fourth circle. I have been somewhat afraid of any mishap that might occur, should I press the boundaries of my forgotten skills too quickly, but I decided that since I had such success in the others, I was ready. I cast a spell that summoned great black tentacles, that writhed and snapped to catch the unwary. It should be very effective at locking down the movement of enemies, and protecting our flank, or holding a retreat.

My opinion of Kallun has greatly improved. Though he is hard for me to fathom, and clearly detests my habit of prodigious verbosity, he seems a man of honor and skill. Perhaps he is skilled at deception; I suppose time will tell. Yet I find myself softening to him somewhat... I hope this is not a mistake.

I must relate here with regret a certain embarassing incident. Returning to the town, we ran across Madeline, and a new companion of hers, one Mademoiselle Sylvaine de Rochelle. The mademoiselle is apparently a Knight in Silver, and something about her is quite familiar, though I do not believe we have met. I did, however, remember a platinum haired warrior with which she is familiar, one Knight Errant (so I am told) Alyra. Unfortunately I remember nothing about Alyra but her name, so I would guess that I met her not long ago (for I have deduced my older memories remain intact, but the newer ones are particularly missing).

Something Madeline had said to me in the bathhouse has caused me great consternation. For you see, Madeline informed me that I had a dalliance with a male elf at the college. Most of what I learn of myself makes perfect sense, and fits together like a clever puzzle, but though this comment jarred me greatly, I believed her.

In conversation with Kallun, he had asked me about the apple brandy I had liked so much in Skaug. He asked me an extremely interesting question: if I discovered that in my former life, I had hated apples, the smell, the sight of them, and could not abide them, would I still like the apple brandy I had cherished in Skaug? I found this to be an excellent question, but in truth I think it would not matter much. It may be that I discover choices I make now, would not be compatible with those I had made before; however, I feel that essentially, within me, I am still Marcus Wands... and I trust myself to make the right decision, whether or not it would have been the same, before.

Well, this comment of Madeline's had gotten me thinking. Perhaps I did like elven apples in my former life, though I could find no trace of it now. For in Buttercup, and the dancers within the hall, I have found a great lust within me. But, the idea of an affair with a man threw me for quite a loop... it just felt wrong. And I thought maybe Kallun had been onto something.

When I asked Madeline of this, and told her of my concerns, she began laughing, and told me she had lied. This infuriated me. I felt that she had taken advantage of me, been intentionally cruel, and this hurt me greatly. To have ones whole life taken away is like being adrift in the sea, and Madeline was a scrap of wood that I had found, to which I could cling and keep myself from drowning. I spoke many words in anger, and left her to find the bottom of a bottle of spirit.

When I awoke, in great pain, I felt that I had wronged her. I do not know why, but I feel that perhaps there is a difference between a lie that Madeline might tell, one that is essentially harmless, and one that might get me killed. I feel now only a great sadness, my anger has largely passed, and I feel that I should owe her an apology. For some reason I bear her a certain good feeling, which even this ghastly trick cannot wholly smother.

[Riotnrrd]

I have now become involved in a number of intrigues. Gods help me, and those other miserable and often despicable souls of this place.

I will relate here the first.

I ran across Madeline sitting in a seaside bar, with a female elf named Zalanthe, who said like me she had also had amnesia. Madeline said she was here on smuggler's business, working for the mademoiselle whom I formerly mentioned, and then casually dropped the names of some high up figures in the court of Alaron. I know that she likes to exaggerate so time will tell if she was speaking truth. But if smuggling is apparently happening here, and if it is against the order of the queen and against the common good, I feel compelled to offer assistance.

I had a chance to play a short piece with the local bard. I am happy to say that, not only did I manage to pick out a lovely counter-melody to his song (I think I have played it before), but I received my first compliment on my playing! It is thrilling, soon perhaps I will be recognized as an amateur musician!

I continued to ask a number of questions of Madeline and the elf, when a large and rough looking man entered, whom soon joined us. I learned that his name was Kert, and Kert was wearing a large and fine looking longsword, though his ability to use it was to me unknown. He later showed himself to possess some excellent dwarven full plate of human design... very curious, upon which I also realized I had some skill with armor and Dwarven armor in particular, though I could not remember why.

It is about then a man rather conspicuously made for the door, and one of my companions recognized him as one of the smugglers. We stepped outside, and split up to find him, for he had quickly ducked out of site. We heard the whistle of Kert, whom we found standing at the town gates over the prostrate form of a man wearing what appeared to be a guard uniform. Further, this was in front of two conscious and now angry looking guards. As previously mentioned, Madeline is a fine liar, and soon managed to talk us out of trouble, all the while Kert trying to haul off the unconscious form of the 'guard'. It was fortunate neither of the guards knew the fallen man, and that Madeline correctly guessed the name of one of the guards in the town, but they eventually let us go.

We carried the man into a local tavern, past a complicit barkeep, to a second floor room and bolted the door. Kert quickly showed that what he possesses in martial ability, he lacks in personal restraint and subtlety (unfortunately, far too typical). Madeline and I stepped in before he cut the mans face and removed his eye... for, like the prisoner, I believed he would do it.

Fortunately the lady of the weave makes it possible for wizards to enchant the weak minded. It is apparently my nature to carry around a number of utility scrolls, and now I brought one to bear upon the bound and fearful prisoner.

A soothing combination of the spell, a healing potion, some rum, and Kert's reluctant withdrawal brought him a lot closer to trusting us, or at least me. Upon interrogating the man we learned that he had, in fact, been hired to kill Madeline for the paltry sum of 500 crowns. Clearly, he was thought to die by his employers, for I believe Madeline is no easy mark. He was very callous of manner, and cared not a whit for his own life or that of others. He had met a man, whom he could only describe as 'a red headed and bearded sea dog' through an acquaintance, at a bar called the Crossbow in Port Skaug.

Our prisoner appeared to know nothing else, though we tried to question him for some time. I did have a striking memory at some point during these events; I had done something like this before. Myself and a very young man, with dark hair, had questioned a prisoner in the depths of a dungeon outside a muddy little town. We had played 'bad guard, good guard', in which the first interrogator attempts to scare the subject, and the second plays as if a friend and protector of the subject. It works well... hopefully I won't again forget this, though I cannot yet recall the man's name.

Additionally, I am temporarily struck by the strength of another vision. I see again a hillside conversation, between myself and a number of friends, held at dawn in the latest part of the harvest season. A blond man in crimson and yellow robes (Lathander?) is questioning us of the nature of goodness. I remember this when my companions discuss the fate of our prisoner, and I can only recall the words of the man on the hill at dawn. Compassion. Mercy. Forgiveness. Love. Hope. My heart aches at these words, and I feel a great sadness burden my heart, though I do not recall why. What is this blond man's name?!

Without the benefit of my experiences, the prisoner could not be swayed, and I felt I was speaking my words into a deep but empty well shaft. Though my companions resisted I convinced them to agree to the man's request to flee on an eastbound ship, for in failing his assassination he will no longer be able to remain here. I gave him a fine black robe that I had in my possession, and paid 50 gold to see him off on a ship. It is my hope that he will find redemption, before death.

The summary of all of this, is that we have learned very little, except that someone wants Madeline dead, and perhaps to seek a red-locked sea dog in a dangerous port in one of the Isle's least welcoming places: Port Skaug.

[Riotnrrd]

My next adventure came when I discovered Kallun in front of the Mage's Tower. I had gotten a good deal of practice in my spellcraft, you see, and was looking to find a few particular spells for advancement that I did not currrently possess. Kallun, however, convinced me to accompany him to the Dance Hall. Suzanna was working, so I slipped past her into the basement of Pathra's business.

We fould her there out of breath, bearing a wicked looking rapier. She said an assassin had tried to scare her, but that she had fought him off. She bore a note from him that said 'bring the murdering girl to Mines of the Farheights alive, or we will kill you all'. Pathra bore a strange tale of Banites in the area, clearing some trolls out of some old mines for some purpose or another. She wanted us to scout out these mines for her, to see what was happening there. Apparently there is someone missing, a Captain Jamieson, one of their top spies (or so she said), and he is to soon be killed if we do not intervene. And this woman Scisha had apparently murdered a caravan drover related to these Banites.

I found a few things curious with this tale; one that Pathra would take me into confidence so quickly on a matter of apparent secrecy and importance. I do not know her well, though I have spent a good deal of time in her establishment, so perhaps I passed some sort of test. Secondly, as I have mentioned, Kallun works for Barid Mosinel, whom makes no secret of being a Banite. This would appear to me to be a clear conflict of interest, what remains to be seen is to whom (if anyone) does Kallun truly owe allegiance? Three, Pathra seemed largely ignorant of the history and relationships of the gods, or perhaps this was simply a ruse to disguise her true intentions.

I suggested a number of plans to gather more information, none of which were considered for further exploration. Pathra seemed quite intent on seeing something done quickly, and Kallun agreed, which irritated me as I have said before, I value careful thinking and a solid plan over hasty action. Eventually we agreed that I would use my spells to turn into a hawk, and fly over the encampment to get an idea of what was going on, and that Kallun would use a few provided potions of invisibility to sneak in and look as a man.

I do not recall the flight of a hawk before, but it is exceedingly joyful. One can feel the air like a soft bed when very tired, moving through one's feathers, and eyesight is exceptionally clear. I had to resist my urges to swoop and grap various rodents and birds that I saw in my travels, and devour them piece by piecem, but I remained resolute and flew around the encampment.

First I saw a blue ogre and three of his more common companions, the blue being a creature I recognized as an ogre magi (very fearsome and tough opponents), eating the cooked corpse of a richly dressed caravan driver. Beyond this, a secret cove, being used upon closer inspection as a smelting operation, to transmute ores of metal into ingots (we later determined this to be adamantine). There was also a mine, covered with a magical ward, passed by possession of certain amulets the guards wore. I estimated their strength of arms at perhaps 20. Some buildings, with slaves outside, working.

Kallan got a closer look, and further discovered that two of the outlying buildings held individual slaves, one almost certainly the Captain Jamieson we sought. We soon returned to the Dance Hall to inform Pathra of our discoveries.

I found Madeline there, and as usual she seemed to enjoy toying with me. I do not find it alltogether unpleasant, I just... don't know how to respond. Perhaps that is why I am such interesting sport for her amusement.

I did hear later that Kallun had returned to face the ogre magi, along with a few companions. Apparently they slew the ogre wizard without its completion of a single spell, which is very fortunate for them as they are incredibly dangerous. He told me of a plan that he and a hin named Hully had devised, in which they quietly surrounded and ambushed the ogres, firing missile weapons to target the leader. A solid plan, I am jealous that I did not take part in the battle to see the creature in action. Still, it seems sad so great a beast could be felled so easily. I must remember to keep in possession an abjuration of protection from arrows at all times.

They managed to collect a large number of goods as treasure, including several adamantine bars, and a brace of books and a fine mortar and pestle, which Kallun gave to me. He then told me that his companions wanted a cut of what I could sell it for, and after I told him that the mortar and pestle would bring a price of 1000 gold, he took it back for himself. I hope that he decides to give me a share, which should be nearly enough to purchase one of the spells I am looking for. I suppose if he keeps it for himself, or if he does decide to share, I will know better what sort of man he really is.

[Hyme]

Love it

[Riotnrrd]

I decided to make my way back to the port of Skaug, for I sought a brace of powerful spells that I had read to be quite useful. It is within Skaug lies the man with the best open inventory of scrolls I have yet seen, Arif, the wizard high in the tower. Kallun bears a particular disdain for this man, considering him to be a cheat, and very dangerous, so I am careful to maintain my distance from the man, as much as I can in doing business with him.

Along the way to the hill road I came across Kallun speaking with a very rough but huge man, and an orcblood in a cowl and scaled tunic. The orcblood was offering them a job involving a local merchant named Tomez, whom was said to have been offering shoddy goods as counterfeit. The large mercenary, whom I come to know is called Ramunas, is a greedy, unwashed, dangerous sort of man, whom claims to follow Tempus but so far as I can tell, follows only his own avarice and thirst for blood. Ramunas was in no uncertain terms told he was not to kill the target, yet he seemed to be greatly saddened by this.

Well, normally I would have pretended not to hear and hurried past, but as I said, Kallun was with him, so I decided to stay. Kallun explained he had a certain interest in seeing this Ramunas survive his greed, and it was about then I spied a number of shady looking characters nearby, presumably the orcblood's allies, waiting for our response. The others agreed, and wanting to see the Crossbow in relation to Madeline's assassin as mentioned before, I went along, to see if I might spy a redheaded and bearded sea dog.

Outside the inn, this Ramunas showed himself to be a fecalphiliac, expressing an earnest desire to play with the merchant's feces, spreading it on his feet or some such nonsense. I think it was meant to be intimidating, but really it was kind of disgusting, and when I asked him to elaborate, he only seemed confused. I was tempted several times to tell him to leave thinking to those capable of it, but I considered his large size and ill temperment, and decided not to. I'll try to keep my comments at an intellectual greater than his understanding, which should not cause the slightest effort, for he is exceedingly stupid.

I so happened to spy Barid Mosinel as we were waiting, and I hailed him, to see what he would say about the rats in his basement. He seemed to have forgotten his offer of protection when I asked him about the rats, only scoffing and saying he thought they should have posed no difficulty to me. I thanked him for his gracious hospitality, and gave him back his hall key, which he accepted. He asked what we were doing, and we related the relevant details. Barid seemed to take offense at the notion of a merchant cheating the public, and appeared to bear some duty to Kallun, perhaps through their association at the merchant house.

We entered the Crossbow, and Tomez, of course being rich, was well protected by guards. As we engaged the man he expressed his displeasure at our interruption as well as professing innocence. I stepped forward to offer some examination of his goods, for I am experienced at the valuation of items, but he said (conveniently) his goods were on his ship.

Barid was very convincing in his threats. I have no doubt he would have slaughtered all of the men, dragging us all in with him, to see the task done. I do not entirely know why, but it seemed he felt either a great dislike for the notion of a merchant cheating people, or a duty to Kallun as they are sometimes companions, or otherwise, but Barid scared me as much as the guards he threatened. Ramunas foamed like a rabid dog, clearly itching for violence.

Kallun spoke a few words of sense, and offered to listen to the merchant Tomez's counter proposal. Tomez basically said he would retreat, and let us fight his guards; if we won, he would leave, otherwise he would see us have proper burials. As bloodshed was imminent, I stepped in to try and stop the battle, and prepared to flee, for to attack this man and kill his guards, or die ourselves, over a few coins of gold, was wrong. I would not stay to see it, nor aid my companions in this act without knowing the truth of the matter. To the others, truth did not matter, only gold is what speaks. This is what saddens me about this place, Skaug. For life is cheap, violence an accepted solution, and blood and death common in the twisted streets.

I felt that I was the only voice there to argue against the spilling of blood. Barid was clearly not disturbed at the notion of killing to see his duty done. Ramunas relishes blood and violence. Kallun seemed to be willing to see events play out, but he did lend his voice to diplomacy. I don't understand why he took this job, but there are a great many things I don't understand, so I suppose time will tell his true motivations.

Tymora smiled upon us, for the purser folded, and he and his men agreed to leave without a fight. Ramunas in particular was saddened that he had not murdered them for coin. I think he will meet an early death, and I can't say I will miss him. The others returned to the contact, and accepted payment for the job, though Barid and I both deferred. Barid is a hard man, but seems to have some twisted perversion of duty, a code that he follows. It is repulsive to me, and I will avoid him as much as I can, for he also scares me greatly.