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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Nydia" data-source="post: 1490037" data-attributes="member: 18593">3rd of Mirtul, 1376 D.R.I'm still a little shaky....following the spell yesterday... About an hour after we resumed our climb yesterday, Mithras caught a whiff of fresh air from the surface and just bolted up that slope, leaving the rest of us behind. As everyone else got near enough to the surface to smell it, and see the sunlight filtering down the passageway, Nym and the rescued slaves were so overcome with joy that they followed. That left Mattathias, Beirdan, Razsamar, Samar, and myself alone. That's when Razsamar shouted for me to shatter the globe, and then lunged at Samar, wrapping his arms tightly around his dying counterpart's shoulders.I did as I was commanded, hurling that little glass sphere down at the rocky ground as hard as I could. Sure enough, when it impacted the ground, it shattered into a myriad of sparkling lights. There, amidst all of these brilliant lights was a Human girl no older than Nym. She looked terrified, but I acted anyway. I had no time, at that moment, to ponder the ethics of what I was doing when I pricked that girl's finger. I only knew that this was the only way to finish this. In hind-sight I suppose I could have pricked my own finger...but I'm just not sure that I'm innocent enough. How does one define innocence exactly? Once that drop of blood fell from her hand, I pulled out the scroll that Razsamar had given me, and I began to recite the spell that would reunite the two struggling men before me. The two dying men wrestled on the rocky dirt as I spoke aloud the words. Mattathias moved to intervene, to separate the two, but he was intercepted by Beirdan. The Dwarf was brandishing his hammer menacingly, but warning the cleric to not interfere.  As I continued, invoking the words of magic that would bring this spell to life, I could hear Samar's anguished screams, and Razsamar shouting at him in their native tongue. I was reminded so much of that evening...the night I cast that spell that brought me here and to Phlan. The night that made all of this necessary. I wondered for a moment if, like that other spell, this one too was beyond my experience. How easily it would be for me to loose control, especially considering the force and power that kept building and building as the casting reached its advanced stages. From the corner of my eye, I could see that the two men were becoming one, but I could feel myself being tested to the best of my abilities. I continued to cast, even as it grew harder and harder to contain the power that was surging through my body. Finally, the darkness had claimed me...just like before.I don't know who had carried me out of the passage, but I regained consciousness to found myself, and everyone else, amidst the mouldy ruins in the Southwest of Phlan. Looking around, after I had picked myself up off of the dirty ground, I was startled to find tattered bits of parchments, shredded and faded tapestries, and more than a little evidence of long faded magics. I could only imagine that we were in the old Scholar’s Square. As soon as I was rested enough to walk, we led our freed slaves to The Waiting, and left them in the temple's care.Concerned for Lando, the Elven bowyer we had been forced to leave behind in Phlan, we journeyed to his shop and found it closed, his kin working tirelessly to rebuild the structure, and their lives. Of Lando, none of them knew. No one had seen him since the horrific riots on the 30th. A few of their number had gone west, seeking an audience with Lando’s elven kin. They promised that they would tell us if they learned anything new.I was very disappointed that he wasn't there. At least we would have known that he was okay, that he had survived the madness. But, the fact that no body had been found was also a good sign. He was alive...somewhere. Tired, filthy, and in need of a long hot soak, I headed to the Cracked Crown from Lando's Bows. The others came with me. With the Grove nearly destroyed, Mithras, Mattathias, Nym, and Katar would need a new place to stay. With all of the gold and items we had removed from that hobgoblin lair, they could now afford a room at the Cracked Crown. As we had made our way through the oddly quiet streets of the city, we couldn’t help but notice mounted warriors that we had never before see. These men were organized. Every one of them that we saw wore a very distinct crest upon their tunics. It was of a gold coin, pierced through by a short sword. They were obviously mercenaries, but I couldn’t say from where. We saw them chiefly in the company of Phlan's regular city guard, but we also observed patrols consisting entirely of these mercenaries. Upon asking a local woman who they were, she informed us that the mayor had brought them back with her from Sembia. They were called "The Helms." It wasn't too long before we reached the inn, especially considering there was practically no one milling about in the streets. Every person that we saw outside of a building seemed to have a task to perform or a place to go. They did both quietly and with great haste. When we had finally arrived at the Cracked Crown, I immediately went to look for Cotton. I had left him in the stables that fateful day. Cotton was gone. When I enquired about the whereabouts of the donkey, nobody could tell me where he was, or who might have taken him. Before I could even ask to see the owner, Lady Robyrtah Greensash, they informed me that she had been killed during the riot. I let the issue lie. I felt bad for even bringing it up. The roasted pheasant dinner, washed down with a goblet of Saerloonian Glowfire, really did wonders for taking the edge off my sadness. Seems that Saerloonian wines aren’t in short supply nowadays, especially considering the new influx of Sembian merchants. They must have come up with the mayor as well.4th of Mirtul, 1376 D.R.I had trouble sleeping last night...even after the wine and dinner, and even after the long hot bath that I had had. I had such horrible nightmares. They  were filled with images of people that I had seen walking, talking, and laughing in the city streets, piled up on the cold, unholy ground of Valhingen Cemetery. Every time I closed my eyes, there they were...but some were worse. They progressed every time I tried to sleep....  They would just lie there at first, but as the night wore on, they would start smiling at me...cold...evil smiles, and their eyes looked so hateful, so condemning. I even saw that poor little Elven girl we had committed to flame..she smiled so sweetly at me, then he face turned cold and dead, and that lovely smile became so sour..... It was horrible. When they started actually trying to get up and walk towards me, I just gave up sleep altogether. I spent the rest of the morning playing the harp that we found, trying to calm my own nerves.The day got better after that. This morning, Razsamar greeted us with, breakfast and also the wondrous tale that follows:I was born in 1289 DR on the coast of the Alamber Sea. As a young boy I met Ungred Kezel as he traveled throughout my homeland of Unther, entertaining adults and children alike with his clever magic tricks and wonderful stories. It was then that my obsession with magic began. It was then that I knew my path. My desire to learn magic was so strong that I followed Ungred and joined his performances. That time was the happiest I’ve ever known. After a few years of travel, others had joined us and the Wondering Fates were formed.After several requests by wealthy merchants in Aglarond and Chessenta, the Fates decided to take their performances beyond Unther. Ungred knew that the troupe would be gone for a long time and did not wish the Art to be neglected in me, so he arranged a magical apprenticeship. Under the tutelage of the wizardress Delina my gift was finally able to flourish. In just a few years I was able to seek my own destiny.Decades passed, my power grew, and I traveled many of the lands of Faerun, even to worlds beyond. Regardless how much power I gathered, time itself seemed intent to defeat me. I felt old age incessantly haunting me. I tried many of the common magical methods to stave off time, but alas, time would know no defeat. Finding no answers in the research of others, I pioneered a new method of renewing my youth.I meant to rejuvenate myself in spirit and body… I remember little but the flash of light and the stink of my own flesh as it sizzled and burned away. When I finally awoke I found that my magics had split me in twain. Something had gone horrible awry and had split my spirit and body in two. One half had many of the traits of my younger self, the spirit and passion of youth. That man, brimming with vigor and life, was the Samar you knew. After that horrible ordeal he returned to where he felt happy and safe, among his friends in The Wondering Fates.Razsamar, the man you journeyed the dungeon with, felt nothing of the emotion and vigor of youth, he was old and tired, but what he lacked in energy he made up for in experience and wisdom. Razsamar sought refuge in his studies, spending the next long years in research and experimentation before finally understanding all that had occurred in his original magics.When Razsamar had completed the tale of his life, he departed, but not before asking Nym to accompany him. We saw neither the wizard nor the blue-haired Elf child all for the rest of the  day, but the two returned that evening, and Razsamar deemed to speak to us yet again. Our reward, he informed us, was not only that we could keep the gold and items that we had found while in the dungeon, but also that he would identify all items that glowed with the Weave, free of charge. He said that he would need to take the things with him, but promised that he would return with them in a tenday, and tell us what they are.To calm our apprehension, he presented each of us with a small token bearing what I can only construe to be his own sigil. He swore that the sigil would guarantee his word to his. I had a feeling that he wasn't lying. We gave him the things, and he departed. 15th of Mirtul, 1376 D.R.Razsamar returned our items tonight, but I will get to that in a moment. Following his departure on the 5th, each of us in the party took this past tenday as our own. I myself spent the week at the mercenary training hall, honing my skills as a duelist. A few of my comrades joined me. Our days were spent tired, sweaty, and sore. Now that I think about it, it wasn't much of a vacation, but it was still preferable to trudging through a grimy dungeon or stumbling over rocks in the Underdark. We spent out evenings together, all of us, discussing the unfolding of events in Phlan.Never have I seen such order in the streets of this city, and never have I sensed so much turmoil in its leaders. During the time that we've been back, we've managed to learn what has happened since the riot. The disasters that befell Phlan on the day of the 30th of Tarsahk had left its victims angry and seeking whatever scapegoat they could find. On the 30th of Tarsakh, they have gone after every non-Human that they could find. Now, they are going after the mayor, Kella Voskorm.We had learned over the course of the past week that it had been Mayor Voskorm, with help from hired Saerloonian soldiers from the Golden Sword Mercenary Company based out of Sembia, that had turned the tide of the uprising. Tomorrow noon, on the 16th of Mirtul, she plans to address the city. We were preparing to discuss the matter further over dinner this evening, but Razsamar returned. True to his word, he returned all of our treasure, as well as whatever information he could garner concerning their histories and abilities. It turns out that the harp that we had found was created by the infamous Harper, the Mist Master, for a bard that I believe mother met on a couple of occasions! The bard's name is Marco Sal, and from what I've been told, he wears very puffy golden pants. It truly is a small world!Razsamar would not stay the evening in Phlan, citing urgent business in Unther, but he promised to return at the end of two months time. 16th of Mirtul, 1376 D.R.Everyone in town converged upon the courthouse again today, not to riot and burn it, but instead to hear the mayor’s address. There, for everyone to hear, she announced that she would be relinquishing her position as mayor of Phlan, and that the Council had already named her replacement.It was to be Holondos Stimpiir, the kindly Turmish Cleric who oversaw The Waiting. It is hoped that under Holondos’s rule, stability and safety will be restored to the city. Upon taking the podium himself, Holondos explained that Kella Voskorm will continue to hold the position until the 30th of Mirtul. On the 1st day of Kythorn, Holondos will be inaugurated as mayor of Phlan. He concluded his own address by wishing Tyr’s blessings on every one of us, and a bright future for Phlan. Holondos had spoken only kindly of Kella, and he had explained that though the position of mayor was asked of him, he did not seek it out. Later this evening, predictably enough, Bishop Dirten Andorias was granted the position of Revered Father of The Waiting. While only Mattathias attended the ceremony for Revered Father Dirten, our entire group was invited by Holondos to attend his inauguration and the festivities that would take place afterwards, on the 1st of Kythorn. 20th of Mirtul, 1376 D.R.Today was spent in preparation for the upcoming inaugural celebration of Holondos Stimpiir. The entire city is bustling with activity! The spirits of the citizens are dampened only by the mercenary presence, and even then it isn't too much.I’m having the tailor in the Cracked Crown make a gown for me! It’s strapless with two layers, both of them a lovely blush color. The bottom layer is perfectly opaque, but the upper, more filmy layer, will be translucent. It’s going to be a lovely dress! I think I’ll have him sew some red silk roses around the bustline. That should be enchanting… Maybe I should have him also make a wrap for it.AGH!I’m starting to sound like my mother! Nevermind the wrap, but I’ll keep the red silk roses. I would say that I hope there are some handsome and dashing warriors there, but if there are they’d be from Sembia. I’d trust a Sembian about as much as I would a camel trader from Calimshan! How eerie that was though, that that thought just crept up on me like that…When I start growing my hair out and spending hours “beautying” myself up on a regular basis, I’ll know I’ve finally become my mother. Heaven forbid I start oiling it like father! Or maybe I should just shave it off, like grandmother suggested? Oh how funny that would look! I’d look like a perfect little Mulhorandi wouldn’t I? Just like father always wanted. Bleagh.Ooh, it’s time for dinner, I had better go.1st of Kythorn, 1376 D.R.Well....we’re on the run again! The inauguration ceremony for Holondos went splendidly, but the ball that took place afterwards wasn’t quite so nice, even though that handsome Yish was there. Normally I’d relish seeing a stuffy ballroom full of stuffy people suddenly erupt into chaos, but this was more than a simple mouse dashing up some lady’s leg or a cockroach in the soup.As it turns out, the Fire Knives assassins had poisoned the food! It wasn’t too long after we had sat down to eat that people started dropping all around me! Mithras and Nym began to gurgle and froth, and they passed out, as did many others in that room. I couldn’t tell you exactly how many the poison claimed, but in those long stunned seconds before everyone else realized what was happening and began to scream and charge for the door like panicked sheep, I could see that it was easily a quarter of the room. Many of them were seated at the table of honor.I grabbed for Nym, and Mattathias hefted Mithras over his shoulder. The two Elves in tow, we made for a side door, where we were met by Anassa DuLar, the one-armed monk friend of Mattathias. She told us that if we didn’t leave town right at that minute, that we would all die.We moved as quickly as we could! While Mattathias and Anassa carried Mithras and Nym to safety, I gathered up our belongings and arranged for horses enough to carry us all. Mattathias had administered a healing ointment to both of the stricken Elves, and while they seemed to stop fading, neither was fit to ride.I spent nearly 800 gold of my own money on those horses, their tack, and food enough for a week. When I found Anassa and Mattathias, we loaded them up quickly, and rode out of Phlan, me holding Nym on my horse. Mithras rode with Mattathias. Once again we managed to leave the city leaving only chaos and fear in our wake. This time, however, we are making for the Monastery of the Yellow Rose, somewhere in the mountains of Damara.We've gotten as far as Thar today, and what a miserable place this is! The sun hasn’t shined since we set foot into this barren and wasted land! The only traces of life we’ve seen all day have been lurkers watching us from afar, and bones..lots and lots of bones.Oh yes, we did meet up with Katar a few miles outside of Phlan! Seems he was waiting for us...Anassa must have found him first. He had Cotton with him too! After he had collected his herbs from the Quivering Forest on the 30th, he had gone back to Phlan to meet us, but had found the city in chaos. He didn't talk too much about what happened, but he said that he didn't stay there for too long. I still don't know how he got ahold of Cotton. Cotton doesn’t seem to enjoy Thar very much, but neither do the horses for that matter. I don’t think anyone else does either. It’s hard to believe that this was once a thriving mining region once... Now the only miners we're likely to see are whatever's big and mean enough to stake a claim. Honestly I hope they’re doing better than we are... The only promise I see in these mountains is death.Isis hasn’t left her pouch once since we came here. There's nothing that's worth the effort I suppose. Katar did find some conies when he went hunting for dinner. They were a little stringy, and tasted a little oily, but they were better than nothing. They left a strange aftertaste too....I can still taste them. The others are deciding who’s going to take what watch. I guess I’ll take first, I'm wide awake for it. Mithras and Nym are still too weak to hold onto consciousness for too long. That leaves me, Mattathias, Katar, and Anassa.It’s bitterly cold out here, and the wind bites deep enough to chill your heart. I can hear strange sounds in the night, but I’m awake and alive. Out here, that’s all that matters.2nd of Kythorn, 1376 D.R.We’ve ventured deeper into Thar and I see no end in sight, but at least Mithras and Nym have made a tremendous recovery. The ointment that Mattathias administered the day before has done wonders to purge the poison from their bodies. It was only a matter of time before its effects began to wear off.Now, they’ve spent the day bundled together on the same horse because Mithras either can’t ride, or is too afraid of horses to ride one alone. They’re back to their usual selves too. Mithras hasn't stopped scowling once.On a much sadder note, we met an ogre today, poor doomed creature that it was. He was sitting slumped against a sign-post and he begged us for food or money as we passed. Never have I felt so badly for an ogre as I did for that one. I could see doom in his eyes, and I knew that it wasn’t far off. His leg was so horribly mangled that it was festering. I think it was even gangrenous... it was swelling and it stank of rotting meat.Mattathias shared what little food he had with the poor beast, and Anassa gave it a potion and something else to ease its suffering. That ogre was so grateful... I think it gave Mattathias something. After that, we continued on, in the direction of a town named Glister. Anassa claims that the portal to the Monastery lies near there, about a half a day's ride from the town.What a place Glister must be to survive sandwiched between this hell and the Galena Mountains! As we continued our ride, we encountered more ogres, but these weren’t begging for what they wanted, they were trying to take it...from a merchant caravan.It was a tought fight, but we killed all of the ogres. Unfortunately, wy use of The Art was enough to make the caravan distrustful of me. It seems that they were originally from Luskan. I can understand their apprehension, I suppose, but it bothers me that they thought so little of one who had just saved their lives.Katar was more offended by their attitudes than I was. The centaur demanded to know why the caravan leader was so rude to me. The man replied that they were grateful we had saved them. He also said, in essence, that we could take one chest from their broken wagon for our efforts, except for their precious bureau, and then we could leave them be. One of their wagons was completely overturned, and a wheel on the other wagon was shattered, but they had refused our offer of help with repairs. Anassa said that we had no time to spare anyway, and that we would have to leave them there. It seems so pointless to save someone’s life only to leave them to possibly another cruel fate, particularly if the Fire Knives are following us, like Anassa claims. Anassa and Katar got into an argument over the issue. Well, over Mattathias’s deferment to Anassa regarding the issue to be more precise. Katar believes that Anassa is being cruel to our monk-cleric friend. I think that he thinks she's trying to control him. He doesn’t understand... It’s easy to forget sometimes just how little experience Katar has had in the world outside of the Chondalwood.After a shocking incident where Katar... exposed himself... (is it called exposing yourself when a Centaur does this?) to Anassa, we went on. I don’t know why that shocked me really. I guess I had forgotten for the most part that Katar is half horse. There’s nothing quite like watching him flop out his... horsehood... to remind you.With a few acidic words, Anassa shot Katar down, and then skulked off to shadow the group, leaving the centaur fuming. The rest of us just decided to continue our journey, even though some of us were in turmoil about leaving the Luskan travelers behind, or just plain angry over Anassa.Mithras, who had had enough of either I suppose, stopped us about a mile later and pulled a bottle of wine from his pack. I, personally, didn’t see the wisdom in getting drunk in a place such as Thar, but Mithras began to speak. He told us that we had shed blood for each other, and that we were all his friends.He went on to explain to us that the bottle of wine that he was holding was made by his kin out of some sort of ice grapes. He told us how precious it was to him because he would likely never have another bottle. Then he uncorked it. He poured himself a small glass, and then he swore on that glass of wine, and his honor, that he would fight for and protect each and every one of us.He poured another glass and passed it to Katar, who said that we were his new family, and that he would die to protect us. Mattathias, when passed a glass, did much the same, swearing his own life in defense of our group. Nym said something sweet, and far too wise for someone so young, and swore the same oath, though I’m not sure he completely understood what he was swearing to. I was last, and I wasn’t sure what to say.I just stood there, holding that glass of Mithras’s cherished wine in my hand, struggling with my own thoughts. I wanted to, I really wanted to, but that’s not what I came to Faerun to do. That’s not what I set out to do when I cast father’s spell.Could I simply cast away my goal, could I simply allow what I did to go unchanged for this group of people, my friends, before me? No... I can’t. But how could I possibly explain that to them who have just sworn their lives to protect me?I blurted out something that I can’t even remember now, even though I said it only just this afternoon, and I sipped the wine. I could not bring myself to drink the whole cup.The others stared at me for a bit, expecting something more, but I couldn’t possibly say what I should’ve said. I just sipped the wine and handed Mithras back the cup. I felt like such an ass...When the whole humiliating experience was over, we got back on our horses and we rode for a few hours. I still couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I know that what I am doing is the right thing to do, and... I must have looked so selfish to all of them.Thankfully, we came across a scene that allowed me to forget my turmoil for a little while. It was truly grisly. Orc women and children had apparently been slaughtered on the roadway and left there to rot. It looked like they had been running, and the ground around them was blackened and dark with their blood.The scene was so heinous that I thought that they had been slain with spells, but Anassa suggested that they were the victims of an orcish clan war. Judging by the closeness of all the bodies I imagine the attack was swift and brutal. We didn’t linger there for too long. We gave Anassa and Mattathias enough time to check for survivors, but they found none. We moved on.We kept on for another hour or so more, and it was as the sun began to set that Katar spotted the bird flying overhead. We ignored it for a while, but it became increasingly clear that it was tailing us. It was just a small bird, maybe a wren, I don’t really know. I’m not very well versed in bird biology.I know that Mithras and Katar had debated shooting it down, and it made Anassa nervous to no end, but in the end we decided that we would simply charge ahead as quickly as we could. Obviously, someone was watching us.We found out who it was shortly after we crested a large hill and came upon a sizable clearing. There, in the center of this wide expanse of flat land, was half a boat!Standing in the crows nest of the boat was a small figure, who promptly began to wave and project his voice at us, inviting us to come into his shop and sample his wares. It was...a surprise! It was simply too bizarre to ignore....so we all rode down to investigate. As we approached, the figure climbed down from the crows nest and ran out to meet us. He introduced himself as Smoot, travelling merchant, diviner wizard, and collector of odds and ends both magical and mundane. He added that he was expecting us, and even addressed us by our names, or at least a reasonable facsimile of our names. He kept calling Katar “Matar" or "Tar,” and he butchered Mattathias’s name in so many different ways I can’t list them here. He did have a very intriguing shop, however.I myself purchased a few items there, one of them a gorgeous dress that changes color in accordance with the fall season. It’s a stunning vision in orange, red, and yellow during the autumn, but the rest of the year it’s an undyed shade of white. Smoot called it a Leaffall dress, and hinted that it is sometimes customary for the wearer to shed the dress on the last day of fall, presumably for a lover. I have no lover, but the dress is gorgeous nonetheless.I also bought a small statuette that Smoot referred to as the Lady of Ixinos. He claims that it was unearthed from a deeply buried ruin on the island of Ixinos, which is located at the entrance to the Vilhon Reach. He couldn’t guess at an approximate age, but he said that he was fairly sure that it predated the Jhaamdath Empire, which would make it very old indeed. Neither of us has any idea who the woman was that the statuette depicts, but when I held it, I could feel the barest hints of magic. The magic almost seemed to shift as I held it. It bears some looking into later. Perhaps I’ll use the magical harp.As for everyone else, I think Mattathias, Mithras, and Nym bought mostly clothing. Anassa didn’t buy anything. She didn't even enter Smoot's shop once. Katar doesn’t have enough money to buy what he wants. That centaur really needs to learn how to count.Mithras, Mattathias, Nym, and myself are each going to donate some money to buy the things that Katar wants. We haven’t told him though; we want to surprise him.Smoot allowed us to camp in his boat tonight. It really is amazing! It floats, he says, like a Halruaan skyship. I’m inclined to believe him. Afterall, however else are you going to get half a ship all the way out into the mountains?Well, it’s time to go to sleep, maybe I can finally translate Razsamar’s scroll when I get to the Monastery.</blockquote>

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