Post by Ossular on Feb 26, 2019 1:39:05 GMT
25 Flamerule 1488
It has been about a month, give or take, since I awoke within the care of Madam Shey. I don't know much, but through the magics of her people, the Vistani, I have picked up this realms version of common fast enough, though some slight hiccups arise, and apparently, when I'm stressed or have a vivid dream, I speak in tongues they've never heard. Still, though, Madam Shey and the rest of the caravan have been a huge help, and it's at the request of Madam Shey that I begin keeping a journal- she said it would help me with my writings and maybe help me reflect on the past.
Speaking of the past? I don't remember too much. I know I'm not from this place they call Toril, but I wouldn't be able to tell you of where I'm from. I just know it isn't here. I do know that I am missing someone- someone important to me, and I believe they are in this realm of Faerun, somewhere out there. I wouldn't be able to tell you anything about this person, other than they would hopefully know who I am? All I have to go from is this vial of scentless liquid that shines like an aurora at night. No one I've come across in this caravan or the places we've been through the mists of a separate place known as Ravenloft have been able to identify it. All I know about it is that the person that I am currently looking for will be able to tell me what is in it, and that after that happens, everything would be re-enlightened for me. I know this because the Winter Lady told me so. Though she's only come to me in several dreams over the last month, she has helped fill in the blanks, and when I wake from my meditations, there's a chill in the air that pierces through any blankets and pervades through the warmth of any fire, even on the warm summer nights on the southern flats of the Sunset Mountains. Every time this happens, the Vistani don't really speak to me for most of the day, becoming withdrawn and curt, as if they had seen a ghost.
I have to believe that I'm here for a reason, though; that I need to find this person. They have to be important, and the Winter Lady has stated that I only have three years in order to find them. I do believe there is more to our relationship, the Winter Lady and myself, but she has yet to tell me of our relationship outside of the fact that I am her Darling, and she has allowed me to attempt to find my beloved. It seems, though, the Winter Lady doesn't want me to find this other person. Her mood sours every time our conversations head in that direction, and the topic usually doesn't remain very often. Still, though, I do enjoy our conversations, and I enjoy the chill in the air that clings afterward, like a comfort from a far off place. For now, though, I'll stay with the Vistani, Madam Shey has been nothing but respectful and good, and I must think of a way to repay her for her hospitality.
It has been about a month, give or take, since I awoke within the care of Madam Shey. I don't know much, but through the magics of her people, the Vistani, I have picked up this realms version of common fast enough, though some slight hiccups arise, and apparently, when I'm stressed or have a vivid dream, I speak in tongues they've never heard. Still, though, Madam Shey and the rest of the caravan have been a huge help, and it's at the request of Madam Shey that I begin keeping a journal- she said it would help me with my writings and maybe help me reflect on the past.
Speaking of the past? I don't remember too much. I know I'm not from this place they call Toril, but I wouldn't be able to tell you of where I'm from. I just know it isn't here. I do know that I am missing someone- someone important to me, and I believe they are in this realm of Faerun, somewhere out there. I wouldn't be able to tell you anything about this person, other than they would hopefully know who I am? All I have to go from is this vial of scentless liquid that shines like an aurora at night. No one I've come across in this caravan or the places we've been through the mists of a separate place known as Ravenloft have been able to identify it. All I know about it is that the person that I am currently looking for will be able to tell me what is in it, and that after that happens, everything would be re-enlightened for me. I know this because the Winter Lady told me so. Though she's only come to me in several dreams over the last month, she has helped fill in the blanks, and when I wake from my meditations, there's a chill in the air that pierces through any blankets and pervades through the warmth of any fire, even on the warm summer nights on the southern flats of the Sunset Mountains. Every time this happens, the Vistani don't really speak to me for most of the day, becoming withdrawn and curt, as if they had seen a ghost.
I have to believe that I'm here for a reason, though; that I need to find this person. They have to be important, and the Winter Lady has stated that I only have three years in order to find them. I do believe there is more to our relationship, the Winter Lady and myself, but she has yet to tell me of our relationship outside of the fact that I am her Darling, and she has allowed me to attempt to find my beloved. It seems, though, the Winter Lady doesn't want me to find this other person. Her mood sours every time our conversations head in that direction, and the topic usually doesn't remain very often. Still, though, I do enjoy our conversations, and I enjoy the chill in the air that clings afterward, like a comfort from a far off place. For now, though, I'll stay with the Vistani, Madam Shey has been nothing but respectful and good, and I must think of a way to repay her for her hospitality.
17 Uktar 1488
Goblins! The little bastards had come into the circle in the middle of the night, somehow sneaking through the wards that the Vistani usually scatter around the caravan circle at night. I don't know how, but when I awoke to one of these small, mud-smeared humanoids with eyes and teeth of yellow cream, standing across from me with a dagger in his hands, I reacted. There was a loud piercing noise, and before I knew, there was a thin blade of white in my hand- a longsword that felt comfortable in my hand, as familiar to me as the scar above my heart. I used this blade to cut down the goblin before scattering and shouting, stirring the guards and the rest of the caravan to drive back a tribe that came from the canopies above us. They fell from the trees, seeking to use numbers to overwhelm us, and the moment we had cut down about half of them, they started to retreat, grabbing what they could. I wanted to pursue and eliminate them, to teach them a lesson, but NO!- Madam Shey said that we would leave them. Did she not understand that if we didn't make sure they feared us, they would come back? They would dare do this to us once again, the next time we came through these lands? That's when I found out that the Vistani rarely travel the same place twice. Out of fear of something that could be handled now and not worried about later?! Still, Madam Shey held firm on her orders, and ultimately, as she was the head of the caravan, I yielded, but there was so much rage and adrenaline coursing through me that I could barely meditate.
If the Vistani would strike down those who raided and pillaged them, no one would raid and pillage them! Instead of trinkets, why not use examples? Goblins wouldn't attack if goblins saw other goblins hanging from the trees around the camp, frozen in place. I meditated on this, and after several days of reflections, I apologized to Madam Shey. My meditations brought me to places I hadn't remembered up until that point. Dreams so vivid it was as if I had lived them in a previous life. There was more than one way to maintain safety and order, and with this one exception, Madam Shey had done a good job.
Still, though, this memory of fighting trolls and a witch was extremely vivid. I remember the smells of fire and gore. I remember another kineticist- I believe I called him Rook. I remember him not listening to me, so stubborn that he knew the best course of action. I remember him as he was torn into three at the hands of a troll, torn asunder as if splitting paper and spraying us in the red of our comrade. I remember a voice as the troll turned toward me. She called out to me, screaming in an accented tongue that I hadn't remembered until now. But when I turned to look back? There was no one there, at least not a person I remember the voice belonging to. I heard her voice, but why can I not remember anything else? When I asked the Winter Lady about this voice, she simply changed the topic. I'm writing this down before my nightly meditations in case something happens. It's not that I don't trust the Winter Lady, but I need to see something.
Added at a later date: This is my hand-writing, but I have no recollection of the memory that was written above. There is something weird happening here. When I asked Madam Shey, she didn't tell me a direct answer, but instead handed me a specific card from her tarroka deck- the Darklord. She told me that Winter didn't suit me, and that's all she would say on the matter before tending to her other responsibilities.
Goblins! The little bastards had come into the circle in the middle of the night, somehow sneaking through the wards that the Vistani usually scatter around the caravan circle at night. I don't know how, but when I awoke to one of these small, mud-smeared humanoids with eyes and teeth of yellow cream, standing across from me with a dagger in his hands, I reacted. There was a loud piercing noise, and before I knew, there was a thin blade of white in my hand- a longsword that felt comfortable in my hand, as familiar to me as the scar above my heart. I used this blade to cut down the goblin before scattering and shouting, stirring the guards and the rest of the caravan to drive back a tribe that came from the canopies above us. They fell from the trees, seeking to use numbers to overwhelm us, and the moment we had cut down about half of them, they started to retreat, grabbing what they could. I wanted to pursue and eliminate them, to teach them a lesson, but NO!- Madam Shey said that we would leave them. Did she not understand that if we didn't make sure they feared us, they would come back? They would dare do this to us once again, the next time we came through these lands? That's when I found out that the Vistani rarely travel the same place twice. Out of fear of something that could be handled now and not worried about later?! Still, Madam Shey held firm on her orders, and ultimately, as she was the head of the caravan, I yielded, but there was so much rage and adrenaline coursing through me that I could barely meditate.
If the Vistani would strike down those who raided and pillaged them, no one would raid and pillage them! Instead of trinkets, why not use examples? Goblins wouldn't attack if goblins saw other goblins hanging from the trees around the camp, frozen in place. I meditated on this, and after several days of reflections, I apologized to Madam Shey. My meditations brought me to places I hadn't remembered up until that point. Dreams so vivid it was as if I had lived them in a previous life. There was more than one way to maintain safety and order, and with this one exception, Madam Shey had done a good job.
Still, though, this memory of fighting trolls and a witch was extremely vivid. I remember the smells of fire and gore. I remember another kineticist- I believe I called him Rook. I remember him not listening to me, so stubborn that he knew the best course of action. I remember him as he was torn into three at the hands of a troll, torn asunder as if splitting paper and spraying us in the red of our comrade. I remember a voice as the troll turned toward me. She called out to me, screaming in an accented tongue that I hadn't remembered until now. But when I turned to look back? There was no one there, at least not a person I remember the voice belonging to. I heard her voice, but why can I not remember anything else? When I asked the Winter Lady about this voice, she simply changed the topic. I'm writing this down before my nightly meditations in case something happens. It's not that I don't trust the Winter Lady, but I need to see something.
Added at a later date: This is my hand-writing, but I have no recollection of the memory that was written above. There is something weird happening here. When I asked Madam Shey, she didn't tell me a direct answer, but instead handed me a specific card from her tarroka deck- the Darklord. She told me that Winter didn't suit me, and that's all she would say on the matter before tending to her other responsibilities.
30 Nightal 1488
We are traveling to the north of a town known as Luskan. In the winter, the Vistani bring things from the south, and this year, Madam Shey's caravans were making their money in selling things that wouldn't be available this far north in the middle of winter, such as fruits and vegetables from a tropical place known as Chult, a group of jungle-infested isles in the Seas of Swords. I don't mind winter, snow, or anything that comes on the cold winds- in a way, they are comfortable, but I've noticed that, at night, there's a large wolf that appears on the edge of the circle. I can see him, through the snow, and I know he can see me. I also know the wolf is a he, though I don't know how I'd know that. There's a sense of foreboding, though Madam Shey assures me that the wolf is not to be worried about, that she has already taken the necessary precautions to prevent the wolf- a Winter Wolf- from getting close to the caravan. I believe Madam Shay when she tells me this.
Recently, in my meditations, I've seen less and less of the Winter Lady. Instead, I get visions of fire and summer, or a calm garden filled with weird creatures. I remember different people- I think we were traveling companions at one point? A man with a firearm, a genasi of fire, a fey woman decorated in scars, a wizard in the form of a donkey with a hat too large for it's head, and a woman, though every time I focus on this woman, my meditation is broken, either by a loud noise or a distraction. It's frustrating- why can't I remember this woman!? I can remember the others clearly (the donkey eats human food?) and I remember traveling in a giant hut with the legs of a massive rooster, but I cannot remember this woman other than the fact that she's a woman. Tonight, when I tired focusing on the woman, I was jostled by my meditations by a large thud that rocked the cart, tipping everything to it's side. I only caught a glimpse of that same winter wolf, running away, wreathed in holy fire and lightning before unconsciousness took me, but in the dark of my mind, I remembered something else- something that hadn't come to me through meditations.
I stood before a gravestone in a dark place where shadows and souls danced in my peripheral vision. The grave held my name, and across it was marks, some chiseled, some painted, but at least a couple dozen in number. As I neared it, the snowflake scar throbbed, and I stood there, waiting for something- anything, but nothing ever came of it, and I found myself waking up in Madam Shey's cart. She said I could stay in her cart for now, and that she would ensure that the Winter Wolf never came that close to the caravan again.
We are traveling to the north of a town known as Luskan. In the winter, the Vistani bring things from the south, and this year, Madam Shey's caravans were making their money in selling things that wouldn't be available this far north in the middle of winter, such as fruits and vegetables from a tropical place known as Chult, a group of jungle-infested isles in the Seas of Swords. I don't mind winter, snow, or anything that comes on the cold winds- in a way, they are comfortable, but I've noticed that, at night, there's a large wolf that appears on the edge of the circle. I can see him, through the snow, and I know he can see me. I also know the wolf is a he, though I don't know how I'd know that. There's a sense of foreboding, though Madam Shey assures me that the wolf is not to be worried about, that she has already taken the necessary precautions to prevent the wolf- a Winter Wolf- from getting close to the caravan. I believe Madam Shay when she tells me this.
Recently, in my meditations, I've seen less and less of the Winter Lady. Instead, I get visions of fire and summer, or a calm garden filled with weird creatures. I remember different people- I think we were traveling companions at one point? A man with a firearm, a genasi of fire, a fey woman decorated in scars, a wizard in the form of a donkey with a hat too large for it's head, and a woman, though every time I focus on this woman, my meditation is broken, either by a loud noise or a distraction. It's frustrating- why can't I remember this woman!? I can remember the others clearly (the donkey eats human food?) and I remember traveling in a giant hut with the legs of a massive rooster, but I cannot remember this woman other than the fact that she's a woman. Tonight, when I tired focusing on the woman, I was jostled by my meditations by a large thud that rocked the cart, tipping everything to it's side. I only caught a glimpse of that same winter wolf, running away, wreathed in holy fire and lightning before unconsciousness took me, but in the dark of my mind, I remembered something else- something that hadn't come to me through meditations.
I stood before a gravestone in a dark place where shadows and souls danced in my peripheral vision. The grave held my name, and across it was marks, some chiseled, some painted, but at least a couple dozen in number. As I neared it, the snowflake scar throbbed, and I stood there, waiting for something- anything, but nothing ever came of it, and I found myself waking up in Madam Shey's cart. She said I could stay in her cart for now, and that she would ensure that the Winter Wolf never came that close to the caravan again.
Midwinter 1489
I had a very interesting Midwinter, and not just because it was my first one. The Vistani had taken refuge in the wintry crook next to the High Ice known as Hartsvale, one of the only consistent stops that Madam Shey ever made in her rotation through the realms. I would later find out that, while Vistani don't have a specific place they call home, Madam Shey was born in this area of Faerun during a time that their caravan had broken down; she was seen as a good fortune for the caravan- a breaking of a drought that sapped the caravan of most of the mysticism the Vistani people had by not being able to traverse the Mists of Ravenloft. Hartsvale was interesting enough, as had all of the other parts of this new world been, but the most interesting was something I discovered- I think the Winter Lady that has been speaking to me through my meditations, might be Auril, a goddess of Winter known as the Frostmaiden.
Gathering supplies for the next stretches of our journey, I came across a cleric, a half-elf dressed in whites and violets and blues, gracefully walking without the crunching of snow, like a specter on the wind. Upon seeing me, she frozen, and talking in what I have learned to be known as Sylvan here in Faerun, asked about the presence that fluttered about me. Through our conversation, it was revealed that she thought I was something known as a Chosen, or at least had the potency to one day become a Chosen, and invited me to a Midwinter ritual to give praise to the Frostmaiden. My curiosity got the best of me, and I accepted what was promised to be a fun night to honor this Auril.
Taken to the outskirts of the settlement, several people had gathered, and, admittedly, I had a fun time. We danced in the night, nude, wild, free, and as the moon rose into the clear skies above, the ritual began. There was a chant that started with one of the clerics, a song that I somehow knew. One by one, the clerics joined in, and each of their holy symbols flashed, an arboreal glow taking to the area around us. My snowflake throbbed, and the blade of white appeared in my hand. As I looked around, I found myself in my memories once again, a room with witches both old and ancient cackling chants of eternal winter and storms, and I remembered this enchantment as one that was going to aid an old foe to plunge my home-realm into a winter that would last for thousands of years.
My vision came to, and even as I found myself starting to chant and the snowflake scar on my chest starting to glow in that same arboreal color, something else in me screamed and raged. I wouldn't allow this to pass, at least while I was able to stop it. So, I forced myself to stop chanting, focusing my resolve to simply move me away from here. Even as the half-elf called to me, I moved ahead through the wintry snowstorm. Mentally, I steeled myself- this cold was nothing compared to what I had experienced in the past. Physically, however, was a different story.
I made it back to the caravan frostbitten, dazed and confused. Madam Shey said that I was shivering and cold to the touch, coated with a sheen of ice. She said that I kept mumbling, fell in and out of consciousness, and kept asking to be released. Even now, writing this, the scars above my heart burn with a longing for something I don't want to think of, and even though I made a full recovery, and even though the Winter Lady came to me in my meditations, I did not ask anything. We sat in silence, though I wonder if she could possibly know what I was going through. For the first time, in as long as I can muster through my memories and recollections, I was scared of the Winter Lady, and even as I write this entry, it has been three days since my last meditation. I don't know why, but I don't want to go back to her. I just know to not go back, I need to find the person that can smell this liquid- the only other thing I came back with that night, thanks to a necklace that Madam Shey crafted for me.
I had a very interesting Midwinter, and not just because it was my first one. The Vistani had taken refuge in the wintry crook next to the High Ice known as Hartsvale, one of the only consistent stops that Madam Shey ever made in her rotation through the realms. I would later find out that, while Vistani don't have a specific place they call home, Madam Shey was born in this area of Faerun during a time that their caravan had broken down; she was seen as a good fortune for the caravan- a breaking of a drought that sapped the caravan of most of the mysticism the Vistani people had by not being able to traverse the Mists of Ravenloft. Hartsvale was interesting enough, as had all of the other parts of this new world been, but the most interesting was something I discovered- I think the Winter Lady that has been speaking to me through my meditations, might be Auril, a goddess of Winter known as the Frostmaiden.
Gathering supplies for the next stretches of our journey, I came across a cleric, a half-elf dressed in whites and violets and blues, gracefully walking without the crunching of snow, like a specter on the wind. Upon seeing me, she frozen, and talking in what I have learned to be known as Sylvan here in Faerun, asked about the presence that fluttered about me. Through our conversation, it was revealed that she thought I was something known as a Chosen, or at least had the potency to one day become a Chosen, and invited me to a Midwinter ritual to give praise to the Frostmaiden. My curiosity got the best of me, and I accepted what was promised to be a fun night to honor this Auril.
Taken to the outskirts of the settlement, several people had gathered, and, admittedly, I had a fun time. We danced in the night, nude, wild, free, and as the moon rose into the clear skies above, the ritual began. There was a chant that started with one of the clerics, a song that I somehow knew. One by one, the clerics joined in, and each of their holy symbols flashed, an arboreal glow taking to the area around us. My snowflake throbbed, and the blade of white appeared in my hand. As I looked around, I found myself in my memories once again, a room with witches both old and ancient cackling chants of eternal winter and storms, and I remembered this enchantment as one that was going to aid an old foe to plunge my home-realm into a winter that would last for thousands of years.
My vision came to, and even as I found myself starting to chant and the snowflake scar on my chest starting to glow in that same arboreal color, something else in me screamed and raged. I wouldn't allow this to pass, at least while I was able to stop it. So, I forced myself to stop chanting, focusing my resolve to simply move me away from here. Even as the half-elf called to me, I moved ahead through the wintry snowstorm. Mentally, I steeled myself- this cold was nothing compared to what I had experienced in the past. Physically, however, was a different story.
I made it back to the caravan frostbitten, dazed and confused. Madam Shey said that I was shivering and cold to the touch, coated with a sheen of ice. She said that I kept mumbling, fell in and out of consciousness, and kept asking to be released. Even now, writing this, the scars above my heart burn with a longing for something I don't want to think of, and even though I made a full recovery, and even though the Winter Lady came to me in my meditations, I did not ask anything. We sat in silence, though I wonder if she could possibly know what I was going through. For the first time, in as long as I can muster through my memories and recollections, I was scared of the Winter Lady, and even as I write this entry, it has been three days since my last meditation. I don't know why, but I don't want to go back to her. I just know to not go back, I need to find the person that can smell this liquid- the only other thing I came back with that night, thanks to a necklace that Madam Shey crafted for me.
24 Ches 1489
I was going to write about the fact that, north of Amphail, the caravan was ambushed by a set of hungry hill giants, but instead, I'm going to write about the most interesting wizard I have ever met. He called himself the Wizard of Wizards, and stumbled on his name, as if he was going to give it to us, but at the last minute, said that some people merely called him "Tim." Tim appeared out of nowhere as the hill giants set upon a horse, beginning to devour it in a ravenous, bestial gluttony that I had never seen before, and with two mere flicks of his rainbow colored walking stick, one giant became a small rat, which was crushed by the second giant as a swarm of butterflies set open him. The swarm grew so thick and colorful that it lifted the giant up, and his screams became less and less before he was taken over the horizon and into the sky by what must have been thousands of colorful monarchs wreathed in technicolor auras that smelled like a fresh rain and sounded of old men and women laughing.
Tim was an old man, though I wouldn't be able to put a proper age on his form. His blue robes, sleeveless, showed a trained physical form, and his eyes radiated with the power of magics that I probably would never comprehend without a lifetime of study- maybe more! His hair, well trimmed and his robes woven with threads of prismatic power, the blue overcoat hiding a white robe underneath- one Madam Shey said represented his vast potency of the arcane arts, claiming him to be an archmagi, and a charming one at that.
After a... conversation with Madam Shey that lasted several hours, he asked to speak with me. Without my introduction, the Wizard of Wizards knew me already as Orin, and asked how I came to the realm of Faerun. Through our conversation, I discovered that this Tim and I came from the same realm, one that he called Golarion, and while he had come here for his own personal reasons, he felt that I was different. I told him that I was looking for someone that could smell a specific liquid in a vial, and even though it looked just like water, he recognized the Winter Lady by name just based from the magic that existed on the bottle itself. He was going to tell me more, I feel, but the chattering of a weasel that appeared from his robes stopped him. The two chattered back and forth, and I sat there, confused.
Tim decided to help me a different way, withdrawing a sending stone of orange before speaking into it in a language that sounded familiar to me, despite the fact I wasn't able to comprehend it. There was a couple of messages sent back and forth to what I could only assume was another person somewhere on the other end, and I could only assume that the conversation was about me. He claimed that he had a job for me- offering me a lengthy, spotted cat with the biggest pale eyes I had ever seen. The cat unfurled, stretching lazily in my hands, and Tim said that the cat needed to be returned to it's owner, whom I would come across on my journey to find the person that could smell the liquid.
Tim left shortly after that, but had I known the absolute terror that this little devil would have had on my sleeping schedule? I would have declined. Still, though, there's moments I feel connected with this feline, no matter how many of my blankets she shreds or trinkets she knocks around in my trunk (How did she even get into my trunk?!) and I do feel, in a way, not as alone as I had been in the past. The Winter Lady hadn't popped up in my dreams since Midwinter, and for the first time, I was starting to go through withdraws of sorts- even though afraid, there's a sense of home that I miss, and while it's not the same, this cat has the same feeling. Whereas the Winter Lady is cold and distant, this cat is warm and, well, here. Some nights I wake, though, and realize the cat is staring out from the caravan, though I never catch what she is staring at- probably a bird or a rodent of some kind.
I was going to write about the fact that, north of Amphail, the caravan was ambushed by a set of hungry hill giants, but instead, I'm going to write about the most interesting wizard I have ever met. He called himself the Wizard of Wizards, and stumbled on his name, as if he was going to give it to us, but at the last minute, said that some people merely called him "Tim." Tim appeared out of nowhere as the hill giants set upon a horse, beginning to devour it in a ravenous, bestial gluttony that I had never seen before, and with two mere flicks of his rainbow colored walking stick, one giant became a small rat, which was crushed by the second giant as a swarm of butterflies set open him. The swarm grew so thick and colorful that it lifted the giant up, and his screams became less and less before he was taken over the horizon and into the sky by what must have been thousands of colorful monarchs wreathed in technicolor auras that smelled like a fresh rain and sounded of old men and women laughing.
Tim was an old man, though I wouldn't be able to put a proper age on his form. His blue robes, sleeveless, showed a trained physical form, and his eyes radiated with the power of magics that I probably would never comprehend without a lifetime of study- maybe more! His hair, well trimmed and his robes woven with threads of prismatic power, the blue overcoat hiding a white robe underneath- one Madam Shey said represented his vast potency of the arcane arts, claiming him to be an archmagi, and a charming one at that.
After a... conversation with Madam Shey that lasted several hours, he asked to speak with me. Without my introduction, the Wizard of Wizards knew me already as Orin, and asked how I came to the realm of Faerun. Through our conversation, I discovered that this Tim and I came from the same realm, one that he called Golarion, and while he had come here for his own personal reasons, he felt that I was different. I told him that I was looking for someone that could smell a specific liquid in a vial, and even though it looked just like water, he recognized the Winter Lady by name just based from the magic that existed on the bottle itself. He was going to tell me more, I feel, but the chattering of a weasel that appeared from his robes stopped him. The two chattered back and forth, and I sat there, confused.
Tim decided to help me a different way, withdrawing a sending stone of orange before speaking into it in a language that sounded familiar to me, despite the fact I wasn't able to comprehend it. There was a couple of messages sent back and forth to what I could only assume was another person somewhere on the other end, and I could only assume that the conversation was about me. He claimed that he had a job for me- offering me a lengthy, spotted cat with the biggest pale eyes I had ever seen. The cat unfurled, stretching lazily in my hands, and Tim said that the cat needed to be returned to it's owner, whom I would come across on my journey to find the person that could smell the liquid.
Tim left shortly after that, but had I known the absolute terror that this little devil would have had on my sleeping schedule? I would have declined. Still, though, there's moments I feel connected with this feline, no matter how many of my blankets she shreds or trinkets she knocks around in my trunk (How did she even get into my trunk?!) and I do feel, in a way, not as alone as I had been in the past. The Winter Lady hadn't popped up in my dreams since Midwinter, and for the first time, I was starting to go through withdraws of sorts- even though afraid, there's a sense of home that I miss, and while it's not the same, this cat has the same feeling. Whereas the Winter Lady is cold and distant, this cat is warm and, well, here. Some nights I wake, though, and realize the cat is staring out from the caravan, though I never catch what she is staring at- probably a bird or a rodent of some kind.
Greengrass 1489
I don't understand.
Did I do something? Did I make a mistake? Did I offend her in some way? Did I upset Madam Shey? Maybe some of the other Elders? I didn't mean it- I can't think of anything that I would have done! I have been nothing but respectful and kind! Why would they just leave? I was getting supplies, and I came back, and they were just... gone. The only thing left was my trunk and the cat I've been watching. So I drug my belongings to Silverymoon- back to the place that I had been sent to gather supplies.
I don't like being alone. I don't want to be alone.
I don't understand.
Did I do something? Did I make a mistake? Did I offend her in some way? Did I upset Madam Shey? Maybe some of the other Elders? I didn't mean it- I can't think of anything that I would have done! I have been nothing but respectful and kind! Why would they just leave? I was getting supplies, and I came back, and they were just... gone. The only thing left was my trunk and the cat I've been watching. So I drug my belongings to Silverymoon- back to the place that I had been sent to gather supplies.
I don't like being alone. I don't want to be alone.
29 Kythorn 1489
The last several months have been eye-opening, in their own ways. After Madam Shey never came back... I wasn't sure about anything.
When I came to Silverymoon, almost three months ago now, I was scared and alone. I slept around the fires in one of the caravan yards in the Southbank of the city. It had been several days before, hungry and half-awake from my restless slumbers before I was approached by another who was like me, an Eladrin. Her name was Amafreya, a traveling bard, and it was through her that I learned several important things. For starters, the fact that I can change my associated seasons, which changes some of my appearance and, in some cases of stress, my personality with it. When I'm aligned with Spring, my hair's a shade of honey with streaks of sunflower, and I feel happier. I don't really know how to describe it other than that. With Summer, I feel warm and content, much like I imagine Lessi (the cat I've been taking care of for Tim the Wizard) napping in the window of the inn I've been staying at. With Autumn, there is a sense of wonderment, like watching the leaves change colors, or the Goldenfields right before a harvest festival. It's quite the change up from the cold of Winter, honestly. I lik the warmth.
There's more, too. It turns out, we Eladrin have an innate ability to Misty Step. At first, I annoyed myself with it (I had run into far too many walls, much to Amafreya's enjoyment) and swore it off, but in time, I figured out how to use it. Amafreya also taught me that, depending on the season I'm aligned with, other things can happen. It would explain the fire I started in the stables one night of practice. I apologized and help pay for the damages which were few and cheap, thankfully.
I started researching general things, too, here in Silverymoon. There were more than enough teachers and students willing to show me magic, which I apparently have an innate ability for, and they've discovered that I am a Warlock. Though I lied about not knowing my patron, they've narrowed it down to what is known as a Hexblade- a warlock that can spawn weaponry made in the images of the Shadowfell, a place of darkness. While I don't think that same origin applies to my own weapon, the Winter Lady's blade, the concepts were interesting enough to keep my attention, and I picked up on training with blistering speed.
Between this and my meditations (more on those in a moment) I can match most of the other teachers in combat.
Also, I found out about my meditations, called a Trance, in simple terms. It's why I get images of the past- elves, including Eladrin, re-experience their past lives in order to prepare themselves for their current life. Because I'm still young, in terms of elvish lifespans, I'm still experiencing and re-living all of my previous knowledge. Through these meditations, I've picked up on my past self. I'm come to the conclusion that I wasn't the best person. There was a lot of turmoil that I caused for a lot of people, and though the details are till hazy, I can at least say I don't want to become that person again. I relive through some of these memories and wake up in cold shock. Did- did I really do these things? And why? What could have drove me to murder and punish people in the way that I did? Maybe this is why I have to find this person that I can't remember, though? While it's frustrating that I can't get more than a passing glimpse of red or a voice saying my name, I have to believe it's for a reason. Maybe the Winter Lady did this to me? But why?
Coming back to my original thoughts, though, I can honestly say that I'm content here in Silverymoon, which is why it pains me that I have to leave. In talking with everyone here, I've discovered that no one can perceive what is in the vial that I keep around my neck. Amafreya said that if I was looking for someone, then Waterdeep was pretty much the hub of adventurers, explorers, and usually it's where other lost people and things turned up as well. I don't know who I'm looking for, or even if I'll find them there, but I have to at least try. There has to be a reason that the Winter Lady gave me a time limit on finding this person, right? From everything that I can gather? This person is important to me, but I'll never know why as long as I stay in Silverymoon. So, after spending one last night of revelry with Amafreya, I'm going to set out in the morning.
Maybe the early afternoon. Knowing Amafreya, she'll make sure everyone buys me a drink.
The last several months have been eye-opening, in their own ways. After Madam Shey never came back... I wasn't sure about anything.
When I came to Silverymoon, almost three months ago now, I was scared and alone. I slept around the fires in one of the caravan yards in the Southbank of the city. It had been several days before, hungry and half-awake from my restless slumbers before I was approached by another who was like me, an Eladrin. Her name was Amafreya, a traveling bard, and it was through her that I learned several important things. For starters, the fact that I can change my associated seasons, which changes some of my appearance and, in some cases of stress, my personality with it. When I'm aligned with Spring, my hair's a shade of honey with streaks of sunflower, and I feel happier. I don't really know how to describe it other than that. With Summer, I feel warm and content, much like I imagine Lessi (the cat I've been taking care of for Tim the Wizard) napping in the window of the inn I've been staying at. With Autumn, there is a sense of wonderment, like watching the leaves change colors, or the Goldenfields right before a harvest festival. It's quite the change up from the cold of Winter, honestly. I lik the warmth.
There's more, too. It turns out, we Eladrin have an innate ability to Misty Step. At first, I annoyed myself with it (I had run into far too many walls, much to Amafreya's enjoyment) and swore it off, but in time, I figured out how to use it. Amafreya also taught me that, depending on the season I'm aligned with, other things can happen. It would explain the fire I started in the stables one night of practice. I apologized and help pay for the damages which were few and cheap, thankfully.
I started researching general things, too, here in Silverymoon. There were more than enough teachers and students willing to show me magic, which I apparently have an innate ability for, and they've discovered that I am a Warlock. Though I lied about not knowing my patron, they've narrowed it down to what is known as a Hexblade- a warlock that can spawn weaponry made in the images of the Shadowfell, a place of darkness. While I don't think that same origin applies to my own weapon, the Winter Lady's blade, the concepts were interesting enough to keep my attention, and I picked up on training with blistering speed.
Between this and my meditations (more on those in a moment) I can match most of the other teachers in combat.
Also, I found out about my meditations, called a Trance, in simple terms. It's why I get images of the past- elves, including Eladrin, re-experience their past lives in order to prepare themselves for their current life. Because I'm still young, in terms of elvish lifespans, I'm still experiencing and re-living all of my previous knowledge. Through these meditations, I've picked up on my past self. I'm come to the conclusion that I wasn't the best person. There was a lot of turmoil that I caused for a lot of people, and though the details are till hazy, I can at least say I don't want to become that person again. I relive through some of these memories and wake up in cold shock. Did- did I really do these things? And why? What could have drove me to murder and punish people in the way that I did? Maybe this is why I have to find this person that I can't remember, though? While it's frustrating that I can't get more than a passing glimpse of red or a voice saying my name, I have to believe it's for a reason. Maybe the Winter Lady did this to me? But why?
Coming back to my original thoughts, though, I can honestly say that I'm content here in Silverymoon, which is why it pains me that I have to leave. In talking with everyone here, I've discovered that no one can perceive what is in the vial that I keep around my neck. Amafreya said that if I was looking for someone, then Waterdeep was pretty much the hub of adventurers, explorers, and usually it's where other lost people and things turned up as well. I don't know who I'm looking for, or even if I'll find them there, but I have to at least try. There has to be a reason that the Winter Lady gave me a time limit on finding this person, right? From everything that I can gather? This person is important to me, but I'll never know why as long as I stay in Silverymoon. So, after spending one last night of revelry with Amafreya, I'm going to set out in the morning.
Maybe the early afternoon. Knowing Amafreya, she'll make sure everyone buys me a drink.
