The travels of Mila Pricklyfingers

[CrazyHorse]

Background I: Early Life in Athkatla

Mila Pricklyfingers is a female human born and raised most of her life in Athkatla. She never knew her mother, being raised by her father Panfire in a meager section of the city. Panfire was a common thief who vanished when Mila was 16, probably something dreadful had occurred given his profession. She was left to fend for herself.

Sitting in her room, during a time of reflection, she takes a piece of parchment and quill in hand and begins writing a record- of what she remembers and those events or individuals significant enough for her to remember, perhaps for the future, perhaps just for record if the knowledge may be of benefit someday.

I do not remember much of my childhood in the slums of Athkatla; as memories go, they do tend to fade with the passage of time. There is no memory of my mother ever having been a part of my life, and I do not know who she was, how she met my father, or what became of her. My father never spoke of her, not that he spoke much about anything to me. He was too caught up in whatever he was doing at the time...'business'. More often than not, he left me in our small hovel to fend for myself and was off doing whatever it was that he did. On the rare occasion, he would bring me along with him. Then I would find myself in the company of some scraggly dressed individuals, disheveled men usually- although to be fair my father really seemed no better than these. There were unkempt women as well, usually lesser in number...often I wondered if this was how my mother was. But I will never know, so the preference is to think otherwise. Smelly trash-laden hovels, talking in hushed whispers about shady goings on, unpleasant stares from creepy individuals...hmm, that about sums it up.

Food was obtained mostly from the local market stalls and bakery. Of course, we did not ever seem to have coin to spend so typically we simply took what we needed. My father taught me a trick, so that we could take food without being noticed. I was to accompany him to whatever stall at the market where we were going. My father would distract the attention of the merchant by engaging them in conversation about this or that and I would grab whatever I could nearby and shove it in a pouch that was strapped to my thigh underneath my dress. His plan worked pretty well and, although I felt bad at first about taking the food, conscious was second to hunger. When my father was not around, which was often, the degree of difficulty in obtaining food to eat was increased, even more so after he disappeared from my life. No telling the number of times I would get spotted while trying to swipe an apple and hear the proverbial 'Get your fingers off of those!', followed by a slap on the hand and off I would run with or without something to eat. Sometimes it was not a slap on the hand but a rap with a cane or other blunt instrument. This would result in running off and finding a piece of cloth to wrap a damaged appendage in.

Children, being as children can sometimes be to one another, can be so cruel. 'What happened to your fingers?' the snotty son of a merchant would ask me while pointing out my damaged hand, grinning because he already knew from his father of what had occurred. 'Fingers, fingers, look at her fingers!', many of them started saying when I was out and about, pointing and having a laugh over what had happened. How I hated that nickname then.

Vague memories returning, Mila sighs and drops the quill momentarily. What was I supposed to do? Take food, or starve, you tell me? Is that wrong? And what of my father's disappearance? I should feel sadness now, and despair then that he was gone and I do not know what happened. But I don't. I just feel...empty. Shaking her head, she takes up the quill again and begins to write more.

After my father disappeared I stayed around the area for awhile then finally moved on. I took that hated nickname with me, as it became convenient to go by when I moved in an area and wanted to scout out the location. Of course, I was poor and had nothing. When you are poor and have nothing, you find yourself typically with others who are poor and had nothing. And, even worse, being poor and having nothing and being unskilled, well that afforded usually a seedier type of individual. And those are the individuals that I was around, that I could get by with, from knowing them. When they would ask me my name, I would answer 'Fingers'. It was convenient, really. The less anyone knew of me personally, the easier it would be to get forgotten, in case I had to move on from an area for whatever reason.

Finally I left the city of Athkatla altogether, determined to change my fortune in life.

Feeling sleepiness start to come over her, Mila puts down her writing and goes to rest, determined to continue the story another time...

[CrazyHorse]

Background II: Neb's Inn

Writing begins anew on a fresh sheet of parchment

It was not an easy decision that was made, to leave Athkatla, the only place I had ever called home. Really, I did not know what to do. I have never been comfortable depending on others. From my experience, if you always try to depend on others you usually find yourself in some less than ideal situations. After leaving Athkatla and heading north on some of the back way paths, doing my best to avoid the main roads and thus avoid bringing any attention to myself, I had traveled for days while camping out at night in the woods. One day I came across an old inn and tavern next to a river where I had previously bathed behind one of the waterfalls there. So I stopped in, to get a rest and some water and see if I could overhear any news of importance. Stopping at that inn turned about to be an important moment in my life.

As it turned out, a tiefling by the name of Neb owned the inn, and after making his acquaintance and explaining my plight, he asked if I wanted to work for some coin because he could use a hand to maintain the inn. This was a pleasantly surprising offer, as Neb did not seem the real friendly type. Of course, desperately needing some coin, I immediately said yes. This led to work at the inn doing various chores, serving hungry and thirsty customers whatever they might need to enjoy their stay. During this stay at the inn, Neb taught me how to use a dagger, in case there was ever trouble at the inn. Despite this, I always felt that there were things Neb was not telling me regarding the activities he was involved with and also activities that went on at the tavern on the back side of the inn.

My fears were substantiated it seemed, as one night some unknown assailants set fire to the place. I awoke to the sounds of terrified screaming, immediately smelling the smoke. Dark figures were moving quickly through the place while others were running from the blaze. After running outside to get some air and try to clear my head, I was grabbed by an assailant, tied up and put onto the back of a horse. It was obvious the attack on the inn was planned, by whom though I had no idea. I would rather not recount the rest of what happened that night; suffice it to say that a filthy bandit took me hostage. I was taken to an encampment and left tied up in a tent while the man left, presumably to celebrate the deeds of the night with his friends. Later he returned, leering at me and mutter something incoherent, then eventually passed out. Luckily I had the dagger Neb had given me, hidden away next to my thigh and after awhile managed to free my hands and get the dagger, then cut the ropes binding me. Terrified of what had happened, I had no idea where to go, only to just get away. Seething anger boiled over me as I thought about having my world turned upside down once more. In that instant of rage, I bent down and swiftly cut my sleeping captor’s throat, then under the cover of moonlight crept out of their encampment, and ran.

There was nothing left of the inn, there was no sign of Neb. I left the smoldering remains of the inn that night, my life turned upside down once more. The next few months I would join some merchant caravans heading north through the Cloud Peaks before winter.

[CrazyHorse]

Journal Entry I: Word of my father from a priest of Lathander

One day some time ago, I was preparing to set out for a long walk and had went to Maltz's shop in Baldur's Gate to stock up on provisions for the journey ahead. I entered the interior of the shop and began perusing the wares, gathering a few items here and there. Over to the side I heard voices talking and recognized two of the voices as belonging to the Anu sisters, and in listening to the conversation, I heard one of them mention something about Herran. Of course, Herran and I are very close and naturally this peaked my curiousity as to what was being said, and I remembered previously being with Herran on more than one occasion and encountering the sisters and it was obvious there was tension regarding something that had happened, a misunderstanding or something. Now, I am not on unfriendly terms with the sisters, actually I had not encountered them much but... I have these feelings for Herran and we are very close and when I feel that what we have together may be endangered (as in another female comes around that might have feelings for him or something) at all, well, my claws come out so to speak. Nothing against the two sisters, but when when you lose people who are so important in your life, as I have...

The Anu sisters were talking with some gnomish fellow, and it sounded like he felt inclined to try and give them advice regarding this. The way the conversation was turning made me unconfortable as well as angry because I did not like the negative words being said about Herran and so soon thereafter I quietly left Maltz's shop without purchasing anything.

Deciding to travel south despite not purchasing any additional provisions, I traveled the road through the farmlands on the outskirts of the city of Baldur's Gate and was nearly to the bridge over the Chionthar when, lo and behold I encountered dear Herran, along with some robed religious looking man. The men were deep in conversation and did not see me approaching from a distance and it turns out they were talking to a priest of Lathander, who was asking for aid in the escort and protection of a group of converts on the journey along the Trade Way to the temple of Lathander in Beregost. This priest had also asked Herran to find some companions to help as protection and then the priest eventually departed to journey to the Friendly Arm inn where they were to later meet.

Despite the priest's insistence to make haste, I managed to find time for some private conversation with Herran regarding what I had overheard, the sisters conversing about him to the gnomish fellow in Maltz's shop. And of course, as we were quietly speaking, the two sisters and the gnome come walking down the road. After some uncomfortable light conversation, in which the gnomish fellow tried to, for whatever reason, attempt some sort of clarification of feelings we managed to get the point across that helping the priest was a little more important than the gnome's own self-appointed mission of peacemaking, Herran and I then traveled to the Friendly Arm inn. Once we arrived there, Herran spoke with a number of individuals regarding the priest's words and managed to muster up some companions to help out in the cause, about a dozen if I recall. We then met back up with Haraldus, the priest of Lathander who had arrived at the Friendly Arm inn. After speaking again with Haraldus, this time he explained to all present that he needed protection for his followers, who according to the priest of Lavander were now redeemed individuals. Heraldus informed us that he wanted to travel with his followers to the temple of Lathander in Beregost so that the converts could study about Lathander and serve the temple's needs there in the town. The priest offered to take us to where the followers were but he did not give alot of detail about them, but the group obliged anyways and so Haraldus lead us to the south of Candlekeep from the Friendly Arm inn, along the shores and explained that his converts were staying close to the old Ironfaar stronghold and it that it shouldn’t be much further to reach them. On the journey, Haraldus praised the work of Lathander and spoke much about the work concerning the temple. The priest explained to us that he believed that anyone could turn from their evil ways and admonished that to him, evil comes from ignorance and folly, and these converts should not be rewarded with a brutal death for their past deeds, having turned from their ways. The journey proceeded with other light conversation as well.

Along the Lion's Way we were set upon by a band of ogres during the journey, but we made short work of slaying the brutes and then the priest led us along the shoreline where there was a cave. The priest told us that this was the place in which the converts were resting and said that he would go in ahead so that those inside would not be alarmed at our presence. Of course, a few of the companions looked at each other in alarm but it seemed like an acceptable explananation after all and so after some time we followed in after the priest and soon find him standing next to three large ugly ogres and at that point the priest tells us that he was looking for converts when he and his friends were captured by the ogres and all except him were killed and eaten. Apparently, the priest said he'd been finally able to talk with the ogres and get them to see what they were doing was wrong...

The priest of Lathander then tells us he wants to get the ogres into Beregost and to the temple without detection by the guards or the Fist along the way who might be alarmed at the size of the beasts and would not be understanding that these indeed were followers who had turned from their ways and meant no harm. Needless to say most of the companions were all skeptical about the story and hesitant to escort some ogres into the town. The priest does his best to assuage the fears and concerns and also the priest says that this is a sign from the Morninglord just like when he found his faith years ago while he begged for his life from a thief in an alley in Athkatla. The priest explained that this encounter with the thief had changed his life forever.

Of course, I am from Athkatla, was born and raised there and when the priest mentioned that the name of the thief he had encountered was Panfire, I could not believe what the priest was saying! You see, that was my father's name, and when I hear about a thief named Panfire from Athkatla well...what are the odds? Well of course alot of emotions flood over me at that point as the priest mentions this occurence but also at that point some dwarves in the party had been getting restless in the presence of the ogres and the priest and his skeptical story. Well, as for myself I certainly wasnt putting trust in that story of ogres seeking forgiveness, much less their presence being welcome in the temple in the town of Beregost, but I really had wanted to find out about the man the priest was referring to whom I suspected was my father; so when the dwarves started shortly thereafter challenging the ogres by dropping some weapons at their feet and challenging them to fight, I begin to see the chance of finding out anything further slipping from me. At that point, to find out more about my father I can honestly say I would have helped out the ogres further. The ogres did not want to fight the idiot dwarves but the two dwarves suddenly went charging in and attacked the ogres. The priest then ran off amongst the melee and I found out nothing else in regards to the priests story. I cannot describe the emotions which came over me at that point, and what I wanted to do to those two dwarves who had killed the ogres, thus ruining any further chance of gaining information from the priest. They had no thought amongst themselves except to get revenge for their kin who had died at the hands of the ogres and their kind.

I am still searching the land for that priest, Haraldus.I am still searching at each of the temples to Lathander, to see if the priest may be residing there or if any within know of him. I want to find out what he might have known of my father. I am not sure how it will affect me, whatever I find out but I want to know.

[CrazyHorse]

Journal Entry II: Shadows Fall

I stood in the dimly lit interior of the temple, alone it seemed, and my feet unstable on the rigid gray stone flooring beneath me. By the faint light emanating from a lone faraway small window in the temple interior, I surmised that it must be approaching dusk outside. The interior where I stood was cold, and though it was badly lit by flickering torchlight, my eyes adjusted quickly to the surroundings. Before me, there stretched a gateway to darkness, a black mist hanging in the air with the shadowed interior in stark contrast even from the pallid surroundings of the temple. A voice whispered from within the black essence before me, inviting me inside. Terrified, I struggled to resist, inside I knew this was not right; was this was not what I wanted? My body moved toward the gate, in defiance of my fear petrified psyche.

I saw her standing there inside the darkness; she stood robed in shadow her hands outstretched inviting me, her lilting voice whispering to me though in my terrified mental state I could scarcely understand all the things which she spoke of or assurances she made. Though my mind resisted, my body must have yearned at what she promised for I found myself entering the darkness despite the palatable fear that had overcome my thoughts. As the shadows enveloped me, I saw that she and I were not alone; other shadowed forms both male and female in appearance had emerged, perhaps as if to comfort me from the darkness which did enshroud us. Through the other side of the black gate I emerged, though it almost appeared I had not moved at all. I stood in the temple still, or at least a temple which nearly mirrored that from which I had just came. The stark difference here being that my destination seemed to be devoid of the color from the place which I had emerged from. Numerous figures surrounded me, still shrouded in darkness though now I could see some distance from my immediate surroundings. My body relaxed, the temperature here seemed warm and comforting although strangely enough when I absently clasped my hands together they felt cold as if I might have been only imagining the warmth- a charade or not either way my body felt welcomed and at ease.

The fear which had gripped me began to subside and it was then that I noticed something in the distance, an enormous creature of shadow emerged from the darkness, an unholy aura emanating from it and though we were shrouded by darkness I could clearly see the beast. The monstrosity rose up from the shadows; it must have been 20 feet tall or larger. In an instant my body was numb and I felt a scream start to well from within me, but my mouth would not open as the unholy fiend turned toward me. The creature’s gaze met mine and in an instant it seemed it either entered my body or I, it’s own. In an instant the feeling of paralyzing fear drained from me and I instead felt intense feelings, which suddenly began to consume me. All the loneliness, from the many years after my father left me, it all welled up in an instant. Those same feelings, from losing other loved ones throughout my life…and feelings of anger and hatred suddenly seemed to coalesce all at once. But this was not me, was it? I paused a moment during this internal reflection, and suddenly I looked, low and behold! I was the beast, the black monstrosity of shadow!

In an instant, I- the creature, roared. A howl born both from the aforementioned feelings welling up within but also a wicked shriek as I suddenly realized these feelings, this pain could be transferred to others if I so chose. In this instant of madness I could not stop (or perhaps did not want) to reflect on that which I was willing to, or intended to do. My/the creature’s terrible gaze looked about for a place to exhaust my fury on- and in the distance I saw the streets of Baldur’s Gate. At the least, this was the shadowed version of the city, lacking any color it seemed. A vicious grin crossed my/the creature’s terrible face. Yes, this would be the place I would unleash my rage, a joyously evil feeling washed over me as I already began envisioning the pain I would unleash. Pausing only a moment as I felt as though I could cross the chasm to this place in but a moment, I glanced back at those shadowed ‘friends’ who had invited into this place where I now stood. I smirked, thinking greedily that if the streets of Baldur’s Gate did not satiate my hate, well I could swiftly return here and consume my shadow ‘friends’ in a moment. I could take out my wrath on them and in that instant I did not care, in fact I relished the thought at unleashing of suffering that was sure to come. The monstrosity that I had become then reared back its ugly head, brandishing its claws, my claws, and howled again-indeed it was time!
In that instant I heard a sound carried on the wind, and it caught my attention like reality catches your attention when you suddenly awake from a nightmare. It was the sound of a lute. Beautiful and comforting to the soul was the music. I, the monstrous shadow paused in my horrible thoughts of inflicted atrocities. I was confused. The feelings of hate and rage, and thoughts of committing these terrible acts of violence suddenly vanished. I looked for the source of the music. The portal through which I had originally came, there was light on the other side. I could see a man standing there, calmly, a lute strung over his shoulder. He stood and looked at me, smiling, and then he began to sing.

Run away, my dear.
Run away to the other side.
Run away my dear
Run away far from the night.
Where time seems much better,
Than this place devoid of life.

Everything melted away in that instant. Suddenly I just wanted to get to the light, to that man with the lyrical voice and leave this place of shadow, and horror. An enraged roar from above suddenly drowned out everything. I glanced up, compelled as a feeling of doubt washed over me. Overhead in the sky was a giant blue dragon, and upon its back rode a monstrous horned devil. The fiend was watching me. It felt as though a thousand eyes were turned toward me when that devil looked at me. In an instant my body separated from the vicious black shadow I had been intertwined with and I could do nothing but fall to my knees at the sights before me. I felt as if I was but a droplet of water in the monstrous claws of this devil lord. In a moment, I glanced about for the location of the portal back to the light, and I saw it though in the distance some ways. Up in the sky, this devil-lord was still watching me, and it beckoned me back to the large shadow body I had formerly inhabited. Though it did not speak, promises of revenge, betrayal, promises of power and cruelty to those who had wronged me flooded my mind.

To my right, I suddenly became aware of my friends of the shadows once again. They whispered words of encouragement; though I could not understand them somehow I understood that this was encouragement they offered and shelter from the dragon riding beast in the skies above. I felt as though if I joined my friends in the shadows once again, this would satiate the lord watching me from above.

It was then I heard the calming music once again. There again in the distance stood the smiling man; playing his lute, this time just playing and not singing and it did not matter as the calming music cleansed me. I contemplated running towards the light in that instant, and I saw frowns upon the shadow figures-it did not seem that they wanted me to me; perhaps they would not let me leave either. Would it be so bad to stay? Or would it be much better? After all, think of the power that I held!

There’s a whisper inside my head,
There was a hope, and now is it dead?
It’s all a wonder, will I abide?
I hear you calling from the other side.

Suddenly I awoke out of my nightmare, soaked through in sweat. I reached out to my side, but there was no one there. I pulled the blanket over my head, laying there until daybreak, just thinking.

[CrazyHorse]

Journal Entry III: Can you forgive me?

"You seek to get married?"

The priest asked us something simple, and the question floored me. I suppose he must think us in love, as many do when we are both together. Well, I am not saying whether there is truth in that thinking or not, but it was not why we were at the temple in Beregost that day at any rate. We were there searching for Heraldus, a priest of Lathander we had met and attempted to help some time back.

The day had begun with Herran and I starting another search for Heraldus, the priest who had mentioned something of my father, whom had disappeared from my life when I was a young girl in Athkatla. Herran had agreed to help protect some of Heraldus' new converts on a pilgrimage they were making but things had gone wrong and we had lost track of the priest in the commotion. I journeyed the roads between Baldur's Gate and Candlekeep for several days hoping to hear word of the priest, but never did. This day we had met at the Friendly Arm Inn, discussing various things and when the topic of my father came up, we had talked and decided to venture along the Trade Way to Beregost to look for any signs of the priest. Of course, we had already searched in Beregost previously, since that was the original destination of Heraldus, but it would have been easy to miss the priest with bad timing, especially if he had been somewhere else.

We set out along the Trade Way, Herran singing a song which helped lighten the mood for the journey a bit.

There is a young lady, with bright golden hair
Oh this beautiful lady, I can't help but stare
With eyes sparkling so, problems are not ponderous
When my heart is aglow, this wonderful lady, so chipper and free
This beauteous lady, walking right next to me

A bright purple dress...

The song was interrupted unfortunately as we were ambushed with no warning by a ragtag band of goblins. We were able to fight them off, fortunately without much problem. Luckily my reflexes did not fail me, as I instinctively pulled out the daggers I use, and Herran brandished his sword. Following this encounter, we met someone who Herran suspected was a Thayan as we neared Beregost and Herran commented on the seeming increased appearance of Thayans in the area over the recent weeks.

We finally made it to Beregost, and ventured to the temple to Lathander. A priest was out in the front, greeting the townfolk and we managed to engage him in conversation. After some idle conversation, we told the priest we were actually there for another reason. And this is the point where the priest surmised we might be there to get married. Herran told me priest we were still courting, which came as a bit of a surprise to me that he would actually say that. After getting past that conversation, we mentioned that we were searching for Heraldus the priest. To our surprise the priest informed us that Heraldus was no longer amongst the temple order, saying that the priest had lost his faith after the deaths of some he was trying to convert. Herran and I exchanged glances, knowing the source of these deaths. A couple of dwarven companions, one was named Revenark and the other he called Sammel or something, that had agreed to help Herran and provide an escort for Heraldus, had instead turned on the priests converts and killed them. Seems they did not understand how every action has a consequence, or else they were too indifferent to care.

After the priest told us that Heraldus left and he had no idea where he had went, we were a bit disheartened thinking this might be another dead end. While the priest briefly attended to another matter, Herran remarked that perhaps Heraldus had told the story of how he had become a convert to Lathander, which was the story that included my father. Once we had the priest's full attention again, we asked him in regards to the story and sure enough the priest knew of it. He informed us that the thief Heraldus had encountered that long ago was not a thief anymore. The priest says the man is quite the handyman, and Herran and I glanced knowingly at each other, excitedly. The priest questions us as to who we are and why we were wanting to know of the man, telling us that there had been several attempts on the man's life due to his shady past. At this point we tell the priest we believe the man, Panfire, is my father and the priest comments 'Then you must be Fingers', Fingers being my childhood nickname of course. The priest then tells us that my father Panfire is nearby.

At this point, everything becomes almost surreal. The notion that I could actually see my father after all of these years, it is almost too much. It begins to feel like I am in a dream and will wake up anytime. Herran even has to prod me forward at this point, I am almost in shock. I do not even remember walking over to where the priest directed us. A bearded man is off in the distance near some burning debris and we approach him as he begins measuring and cutting a board. We approach the man, and at this point I am still in shock and Herran asks the man if he had a daughter by the name of Mila from Athkatla. My father immediately fell to his knees crying and of course tears start flowing from myself as we meet again for the first time in so long. Basically I am numb at this point from the shock of finally finding my father, but we embrace and after finally being able to compose ourselves my father explains that he went to jail for years for the crimes he had done, and when he finally I got out I was long gone and he feared dead.

My father goes on to tell me that he was an asssasin for the Shadow Thieves, but that after he went to jail and subsequently gotten out, those he had worked for hunted him down and he awoke in the abyss. He said that any visions he had of glory in the afterlife serving a dark power were crushed as he realized he was just a minion. He says that after priests of Lathander brought him back to life, he turned from his former ways. Apparently the Shadow Thieves had killed most everyone that my father knew by the time he got out, apparently I was lucky to not have been a victim. We continued our conversation, so many feelings washed over me. All of the times of being alone and vulnerable...

"Can you forgive me?" my father asked.

Of course I can, I say then and choose at that moment to let all of those former feelings be released, though it may prove to be difficult to do. My father then speaks words of wisdom, imploring me to not go down the same path that he once did He tells us that we must face our fears with an open mind, and not shut our eyes to them. He then later asks if Herran and I are married, and if he has grandchildren! I mention to him that we are just friends and at that time, another shock, Herran asks his permission to court me! Given the moment, my father asks if we can discuss that later and we all continue chatting. My father tells us that he is in Beregost helping with the rebuilding effort and that I can come see him anytime. We talk for a while further, late into the night and finally we realize that we must give my father some rest because he is so busy with the rebuilding work there in Beregost. We later leave my father to get some rest and continue his work. It was so wonderful to see him again after all the years. Seeing him again, seeing what he has become from what he was, it really gives me a lot to think about.


Impromptu Street Performance

Later, Herran, Tildon and I were talking in the streets and a few of the citizens join in the conversation and ask eventually to hear Herran play his lute and sing a song. Tildon, dashing bard that he is, joins in the playing as well and the impromptu street performance begins attracting a number of the townfolk who begin to dance and celebrate in the revelry. Men, women and children begin lining the street as Herran and Tildon perform, dancing and having fun. Such a wonderful sight. Finally, I even let myself get pulled into the street by one of the women, and have a bit of fun dancing. What a fitting end to a wonderful day.

[CrazyHorse]

Journal Entry IV: Various things of note, before I forget

I have not seen Mezora in such a long time, though I have not given up hope. I do not know if the drow have her, if she is a slave or if she is dead…if I found out, I swear to the gods…but I could be completely wrong. I do not know what it is like to love a sister, but I can imagine that it feels something like this. I am not giving up hope of seeing Mezora again, though.

My mentor invited me to a costume party in Baldur’s Gate. The purpose of this party was to come dressed as a friend or enemy of a certain aggressive bard known pretty well throughout the land. I mentioned to her that I thought he was handsome and she laughed, but later after mentioning that another time or two, my mentor took me to the side and recommended I not say that in front of the others at the party or I might look foolish. Well, I must admit I did not know the fellow that well though then though I knew of him, but the point was taken although I was merely mentioning in passing that I thought he had a handsome face. I was in fairly unknown company then and felt a bit awkward at the party. For a frenemy costume I chose a bit of a generic one: I came dressed as a priestess of Shar pretending (rather badly) to be a priestess of Ilmater. At the party we were graced with the presence (at least in costume form) of Captain Kalma Hellstorm, Thedran and Catam, among others. The Captain stood with his (her) arms folded bragging about his legendary deeds. Thedran seemed to challenge half of the room to a fight at one point or another during the night. And Catam, well was Catam. Another funny thing during the costume party, I was given a note saying that when a certain name was said that I needed to raise my glass in cheers. The Captain himself (herself) was apparently given a similar note because often during the night he would break off into dancing a jig and singing a song. After awhile someone obviously figured this out because he began repeating the secret phrase often and I resorted to giving a lot of toasts! That costume party was a lot of fun.

I went to one of these pit fights with Shirtza in Roaringshore. Apparently she knows this owner, Tamina, there. Of course, I do not drink alcohol and so when I was asked what I wanted to drink, I said water. This apparently irked this red robed woman, should I say hag because I will not put in writing what I would really like to say. I believe they called her Mort, this red robed female who I later learned was probably a necromancer and a lackey for Captain Tamina. Speaking of which, I never had the chance to thank Shirtza for helping me out of that situation. Since sarcasm does not translate well in writing, I will just have to say upfront that I am being sarcastic about that. Anyhow, this Mort started calling me a nun, and later began challenging me. So here I am trying to be a nice young lady and this hag has me wanting to jump off of the barstool and cut her damned throat. But I have to play it off nicely, you know. Shirtza whispers to me at the bar and tries to soothe things, but what the hells? I am not in familiar territory so I do my best to ignore most of it and whenever this Mort calls me a nun I call her a hag. After this, I cannot even enjoy the fights. I will not forget her, I promise you that…

One day, I was in need of coin. I had learned of this fellow Thomas from Candlekeep that would pay for troll hides. As much as I dislike menial work, I wanted a new dress and I figured I could make some coin and so I spoke with Thomas while visiting Candlekeep. He said that he needed some troll hides from these trolls up in the Troll Claw Hills and so I went there in search of the creatures. On the way, I encountered Bak, a half-orc as well as a follower of Ilmater by the name of Louise. For some reason that I cannot adequately explain I felt drawn to this woman. She seemed such a humble woman, and nice. She told me about this orphanage in Baldur’s Gate that she helped found. What a nice miss, I wish I had the opportunity to know more about her but I have not encountered her since. Perhaps I should go to that orphanage one day. I also encountered this elven woman by the name of Rain, while in the Hills. I was intrigued by her story, and later I encountered her near the Friendly Arm inn, where she sold me a potion that I had been searching for. Sadly I have not encountered her since then either.

I heard the other day that Mia Desdemona had made Herran the new director of the White Mask Theater. What a fantastic woman Mia is, putting on all of those wonderful shows at the White Mask for the public to enjoy. It is impossible to catch all of the shows as much as I travel, but I love when the opportunity is there to stop in Baldur’s Gate. Mia, Valquis, Herran, Elycia, Wendel, and the others as well as the band always put on great performances. That is a big role for Herran to fill, as Mia set the bar very high in both performance and expectations. I am sure dear Herran will do fine though, if he gives it his all, as Mia has done.

Rai and Sjinn. Funny, as much as I have seen them together I thought they were…well, you know, a couple. Lucky for me, I’ve had two conversations now with Rai that were not openly hostile or her whispering from the shadows that she is going to kill me, since that misunderstanding we had long ago outside the Friendly Arm inn. She puts on such a gruff exterior, I wonder if it is possible to get past that and get to know her. When I asked Sjinn if they were a couple he told me no, then later told me this sad story about an elven woman he loved, how she ended up with someone else. I like Sjinn, he still jests with me about that time with my ‘injured leg’.

Herran and I spent the evening laying in the sand by Lake Weng. It was romantic actually; we watched the moon rise as the evening gave way to night. I felt really close to him. It is as close as I have felt to any man thus far in my life. Unfortunately, since then, I am not sure if something has changed or what. He has been investigating various matters, probably this has not been good for him as apparently something terrible happened in which he lost part of his memory. During his searching, I have not seen him much. Maybe I do not mean as much to him as I thought I did, though I cannot say because these things he’s been involved with are much more meaningful than some girl’s feelings, I am sure. Still, he did help me find my father, so maybe I am just not looking at the bigger picture. I’m so glad to have found my father after so long. I have spent a number of days in Beregost lately helping my father in the rebuilding efforts. And then there was that impromptu street performance when Herran and Tildon were both playing their lutes in the streets of Beregost. The citizens were so happy. Tildon seems like quite a nice fellow. I should get to know him more, he seems quite knowledgeable on political matters.

I would like to join Candlekeep, if they would have me. Admittedly I do not have a lot to offer them, but I do travel often collecting various things here and there, and especially try to keep my eyes and ears open for news of importance, though I do not have any political ties. They might see that as beneficial though, not having any particular ties, I don’t know. Through both Herran and Shirtza I have met the Seeker Laitae. Though Laitae and Shirtza tease me sometimes, I enjoy their company. Funny that is how I met Vashani, too. There was this one awkward conversation; regarding a certain anatomical feature of Laitae’s…I was an observer in that one though not a participant! That situation could have turned ugly but cooler heads prevailed at least. Vashani is an interesting druid fellow that I have begun to get to know better, kind of gruff but humorous as well.

[CrazyHorse]

Journal Entry V: Chef, or a dancer.

Somewhere south of Beregost, we sat (well, I sat and he lay) on a grass covered hilltop overlooking a dusty, barren valley below. Terrible things, creatures were in that valley below. Deadly, poisonous wyverns- waiting for the unwary adventurer to come along-that is what dwelled below. But up here, it was peaceful, a tranquil scene of green grass warmed by the mild sunlight and a light breeze to cool the skin. He’d told me he was a wanderer but also follower of nature, a druid- he said he did not like that term when I asked him, but…basically that was it. Mostly he ventured on his own he said, at one time he worked on a ship he said but he was not a pirate-maybe a navigator.

He asked me what it was that I did. Truthfully I told him I was also a wanderer mostly, a traveler. Making a living on what I could find here and there, and sell, though I am not really a merchant type. He said that maybe I should be a chef, or a dancer. Now, that was funny. I am sure he would like to see me dance.

‘Oh, I know!’ I exclaimed to him. You see, he had previously called me an ‘evil minx’ in jest while we were talking about his nonsense ideas of what I should be.

‘I could be an assassin!’ I said, in jest and leaned over to where he lay on the grass. I placed the upper half of my body over his, playfully pinning his arms at his side. I leaned into him, whispering sensually in his ear:

‘I could pretend to love you, and that I wanted to be close to you, to kiss you…’ I deftly reached down to my side, quietly pulling out one of the daggers I always carry with me. ‘Then I move to kiss you…’ I brought the dagger up carefully to within a few inches of his neck. Truthfully, I could feel the tension between us. Somewhere mixed in there was…desire? Perhaps. ‘Then….ssscchick’ I raised up and made a throat slashing motion. We laughed about it, and eventually conversation drifted on to other things

That night I had a dream about my father Panfire being hunted down and murdered by his former allies, the Shadow Thieves. Disturbed from this, I later regretted the jesting I had done at the time with my friend the druid.

[CrazyHorse]

Journal Entry VI: The troll and the cookbook

The day started out well enough, I suppose. Well, I did not feel quite recovered after resting from the previous night’s encounters. That expedition the night before with a half-dozen close companions took us into the Graypeaks. My companion before meeting the others, the wizardess whom I finally got to know a little more (and I certainly enjoyed her company) had angered our taskmaster simply by trying to do a good thing: cast spells of protection on him, and because of this he promised to really put us through our paces. The journey took a turn though when we encountered some shadowy beings and the subject of the Nightsinger, and then later when everyone was contemplating the next move, suddenly the hells broke loose and the last thing I remember was the roar of fire giants and everything went black. Two of our companions later revived the rest of us near the base of the mountain. That is a story best left for my other private journal though.

This day, I awoke and though weakened and sore, with intention to journey back to the Graypeaks and scout out the place a bit more since by traveling alone one can move quieter and avoid detection and this was what I planned. Traveling through the Troll Claws, I happened upon the druid Vashani, and companions Clarissa and Raiden who were traversing the Troll Claws. Vashani was transformed into a four foot tall devil, a form I did not recognize him in and was really curious when this devil started talking to me. In a short conversation later, one of his human companions named Clarissa revealed that it was him. Their other companion, Raiden I was familiar with, having briefly encountered him before though he was covered head to toe in armor. After conversing awhile, we were joined by dear Herran and the dwarven druid Thergal, who happened to be traveling separately for unrelated reasons.

Conversation was light, the skies were clear and it was peaceful and quiet for a time. Then, a lone troll emerged from a cave in the distance. It may have thrown a rock at us or not but Vashani, who had reverted to his human form, gave chase and strangely the troll fled instead of fighting. I followed Vashani as he chased it to the edge of the cave and he stopped as it disappeared inside the cave. Turning around, he mentioned that it seemed strange that the troll would flee, and this seemed true considering that usually the trolls are not smart enough to think about strategy or realize when they are outnumbered. We walked back to the others who were still standing around chatting, when suddenly an army of trolls burst forth from the cave the lone troll had fled into. The sight was incredible to behold, and also dread inspiring as the troll horde charge toward us. Really, there was hardly time to think, only react as the beasts swarmed us. As iron and steel met flesh and magical chants echoed, it seemed we were managing to turn back the horde. However to our dismay, the largest two headed troll I have ever seen in my life emerged from the cave bellowing loudly and shaking the ground. In the melee that followed I found myself charging toward the beast thinking to try and distract it while it was in close combat with others, and suddenly everything went black.

I regained consciousness sometime later and found myself caged somewhere within a cave with Herran and Thergal. So weak we were, that we could barely stand, our armor nowhere in sight and the giant troll was outside the cage banging on it to stir us around. It held a book, and in very course common asked if any of us could read it. The thing shoved the book near the cage, and from what I could make out with my head still spinning, it appeared to be a cookbook. The druid Thergal implored the bard in whisper that if ever there was a time to use that silver tongue of his, now was the time. Herran took the book, and though I faded in and out of consciousness briefly, I remember he distracted the troll long enough to get it to leave to gather firewood.

Thankfully our other companions had not abandoned us, as Clarissa emerged outside the cage not longer after the troll had left. While there was discussion of Thergal transforming into a treant or something to bust us free from the cage, Clarissa cut at the rope holding the door and finally it gave way, allowing us to get out. Looking around the room, I spied a glint from a nearby pool of water: our weapons and armor! We hastily grabbed our things and looked to head out. Upon hearing the troll returning, spells of invisibility were cast and we were leaving the room, but the troll returned and lo and behold it was dragging Vashani. The companions whispered, discussing that there was no chance that Vashani would be left behind. Unfortunately in the quietness of the cave, the troll heard this and somehow spotted Thergal, whose spell must have worn off. Immediately dropping the body of Vashani, the troll attacked and quickly knocked Thergal unconscious. During this time, a song rang out, Herran singing! The troll turned its attention to Herran and gave chase, though slow it was. This distraction was what we needed… Clarice picked up Vashani’s limp body and I managed to lift up the heavy dwarven druid’s body and slipped into the shadows of the cave. I whispered to Herran to follow but the light in the cave was too dark and we lost sight of one another. The going was rough, trying to be quiet and carry Thergal’s heavy body but we eventually all met up at the cave entrance some time later. Well, Vashani, Clarissa, Herran, Thergal and I were there, it seemed Raiden had run off or something.

We attempted to patch up our wounds at the mouth of the cave, but the troll was not finished yet and we heard it approaching quickly. We fled the cave, and then the Troll Claws as the troll still gave chase. Finally though we put enough distance between us and it. We traveled back to the Gate and rested our wounds, several of the companions going their separate ways. I stayed with Vashani and Clarissa and after some time a journey to Ulgoth’s Beard was deemed appropriate to seek out some relaxation.

What followed around the campfire along the beach was some interesting conversation. In my tired and weakened state I let my guard down a little but hopefully there are no negative consequences to that. Clarissa is quite intelligent, and I think we may share similar philosophies on certain things. And Vashani, though he hides it with his dry sense of humor is quite intuitive on many matters as well.

[CrazyHorse]

Journal Entry VII: A twist of fate (and what feels like a knife)

*After thinking of the events of the past few days, a morose (and likely melodramatic) Mila pens a few words of a short compilation in her journal. Staring at the words awhile, she then crosses a single line through it, and roughly tosses the journal back in her pack, not feeling like writing*


In the Faerunian haze I wake for yet another day
I guess another veil has made you this way
Thoughts on that time, will I leave it all behind?
Nothing can mend the hurt inside

Sweetened horizons
Dance away the pain tonight
Remember, just like you and I?

I no longer ache inside as I go through another day
I guess it was meant to be this way
Thoughts on that time, I wonder what’s going on in your mind
You’ve cut your ties, and I've cut mine

Sweetened horizons
With her, I'll dance away the pain tonight
Remember, just like you and I?


//OOC:
And here is the tune to go with the song, with changed lyrics to fit the RP:

[CrazyHorse]

Journal Entry VIII: Starry Night

Starry Night
By Herran Hymm (Paw)

I sit here now this Starry Night
Thinking of you, such a wondrous sight

Your golden hair, shimmering so bright
That lovely smile fills me with delight

Cheeks that blush so easily
A rosy red for all to see

Your skin like silk, so soft and smooth
Your words spoken gently, they always soothe

But tis your eyes that hypnotize
For in their depths the moon does rise

I see those stars, up in the sky
When you look at me, my heart does sigh

Their sparkling, glimmering, glowing light
Reminds me of that Starry Night

Like diamonds piercing through nights sweet air
I see you now from everywhere

Now you all know why I delight
As I look up to that Starry Night

I remember that Starry Night…
The song was beautiful. And I hurt, I hurt so much inside. I sat there in the White Mask Theater, uncomfortable as you sang your song. Most any other time, I would have been blushing as you sang those beautiful words, as when I am embarrassed yet happy when you fawn over me so. But we both know what happened, what words were spoken. And so I wanted to be anywhere but there. Why did I even come? Was it my pride, knowing what had happened between us yet wanting to know what you had to say through song? Was it that I care enough for you that I wanted to be there for you, though I was angry at you?

I remember that Starry Night…
And yet days later, as we stood on the grass covered hill in the waning light- you, with the angry accusatory words spoken- and I, trying to explain to you, and possibly myself, of what it was that was occurring. My face had been mere inches from my companion’s face, desire perhaps in the air. You couldn’t have been there listening for long, unseen as you were, or you might have understood. Your spell of invisibility wore off as I reached the pinnacle of the demonstration. I swear Tymora must have been somewhere laughing, or maybe Beshaba…

I quickly climbed up to my feet. I knew what it looked like. I tried to explain. But you would have none of it. You walked away. Do not forget that: you walked away. I didn’t. If I sound bitter, well I already explained, that meeting days later in Candlekeep. Your friends, when they laughingly tell me you were with this woman, or that one. Giving a massage in the Theater. Having a bath with another. Receiving a kiss from this one or that one. And I waited, for you. That pretty elf who led you to your demise. She disappeared, and yet you were willing to risk your life to find her again. The look she gave me when you were leaving for the first time on that journey. Mocking me. And I waited, for you. And my own friends laughing, ‘Oh you know about that silver tongued bard don’t you?’ This followed by a wink and then a sympathetic look at the subsequent frown on my face. And yet still I waited, for you. And yet I am the one supposed to feel riddled with guilt? Surely this is irony.

I remember that Starry Night…
Herran, if you were here I might whisper sweet nothings in your ear.
And I’d try to appeal to all your desires and fears.
If you were mine, if you were only mine- would you stay with me till the end of time?
Will you never realize what darkness lies inside- inside my mind?
If I get lost, if only I get lost- would you be there to break our trust?
And ravage all the lust for life, my love?
Will you never realize what darkness lies inside- inside my mind?

I remember that Starry Night…
The feeling of anger is gone now. The feeling of guilt, it remains. Clarissa, my new friend who I helped through some of her darkest times…well she has returned the favor. I have strength with her by my side. I didn’t go to my father in Beregost, he doesn’t need to have his daughter’s problems on his conscience. So I did not tell him anything. I probably wouldn’t have liked his advice anyway.

Still, after everything, I am sorry for any pain that I have caused. Only time will reveal the paths we take from here.

[CrazyHorse]

Journal Entry IX: "We are always watching."

“Mm. I rather liked the leather better.” whispered a feminine voice from the shadows. I stood frozen, pun intended, on the side of the mountain with the wind howling fiercely and cold snow falling; the thin black dress I wore providing no protection against the harsh elements. Norm Frostaxe and his elven companion were huddled nearby around the small fire that Norm had somehow managed to kindle while I stood nearby keeping an eye out across the mountainside. We were near the border to Amn, fierce giants roamed in the valley below us while further ahead in the mountains one could hear the occasional echo of a howling yeti. In regards to the preference of the one whispering from the shadows, I would probably have been warmer if I had been wearing my leathers, but in truth I had been developing my reflexes such of late that I was actually safer wearing as little clothing as possible.
Upon hearing the whisper of this stranger from the shadows, my hands went quickly to my belt as I prepared to draw my daggers. “Wait.” the voice whispered hastily, and I stopped my hands at my side an inch from weapons. A sidelong glance back to the camp revealed Norm and his companion were sharing some sort of meat, a jerky that Norm cut with his knife and passed to his companion. I remain poised for a potential attack from the one who whispered as I peered intently around but the swirling snow hampered my vision.

“What do you want?” I asked of the mysterious voice. My voice carried briefly on the wind and Norm heard me and glanced in my direction. “What did you say?” he replied, but I merely shook my head indicating that I hadn’t said anything. He shook his head and went back to cutting pieces of the meat. “Shhhh…” the voice whispered, and then proceeded to give me some advice regarding my surroundings and the giants inhabiting the area. Frustratingly, the only thing this female would reveal from the shadows in regards to what she wanted was that I would know when the time came. Terrific. Nevertheless, there was nothing I could do. I told my companions nothing about it as I moved closer to the fire. The way I figured it was that if this woman could get that close to me without me knowing, it wouldn’t be a good idea to alert my companions as it might enrage whoever this person from the shadows was.

After a brief respite, Norm kicked some snow over the fire, and we moved out heading south further up the mountain. Sometime later as the going was quite slow over the snowy terrain, I was still pondering this woman from the shadows when suddenly loud shrieks came from multiple directions. We had mere moments to react with large dark growling humanoid shaped beasts charged at us through the swirling snow. These beasts were obviously used to the harsh conditions as they moved easily. I pulled my daggers out quickly trying to get a sense of what these things were but suddenly two enormous shapes emerged directly in front of me, charging into me, bowling me over and then everything went black.

When I came to, I was near an icy river in the valley of the mountain, not having the slightest idea of how I had gotten there. I looked around groggily, trying to gauge my surroundings when suddenly I heard another whisper. “That’s one.” the voice whispered, as if keeping track of something. Weakly, I struggled to my feet looking around, embarrassed because I knew something must have happened though my memory was fuzzy. I heard a voice shouting in the distance, barely audible in the wind. “Your companions are up on the hill.” the voice whispered. “You should be fine to make it back to them.”

“What do you want?” I managed to speak though weak and my vision still spinning. This time I heard another voice in the shadows, it was much deeper though and it laughed but whoever it was said nothing else. As a chill unrelated to the wind went up my spine the female whispered “Always watching, Fingers. We are always watching.” After this, I heard nothing else. I managed to climb the hill to where Norm and his elven companion were searching for me. On the hillside lay the bodies of several dead yeti, the red blood staining the white snow covering the hillside. They asked me how I wound up in the valley below, to which I weakly shrugged saying that I had no idea. At this point we decided it would be best to return to the town of Nashkel to mend our wounds and rest. Norm had a large gash in his side, surely made by the claws of the yeti, and his elven companion bled from a head wound.

We left the mountain and traveled back toward the town of Nashkel to rest our wounds. As we neared the town, we wounded companions were beset upon by three giants who we managed to slay. A scythe wielding farmer whom I had known had an interest in trying to farm the land nearby joined us in disposing of the corpses and we stopped for rest and idle conversation. As the conversation turned into an argument between Norm and the farmer regarding the viability of the land as farmland, we noticed two figures walking north down the road from the mountain path we had come through previously. This wasn’t surprising as it was right outside of the southern gate of Nashkel, an often traveled road. In fact, a hooded elf I had previously met, I believe his name was Nar, was just leaving the town as well, and heading south while the banter between the farmer and Norm was occurring.

I sat down in the field a short distance away as night fell and idly listened to Norm and the farmer argue as the figures approached shrouded partially in darkness, the two heading north, the elf heading south and us four companions in the middle. Suddenly I heard another whisper at my side. This was a female voice also and it hissed to me “You’re lucky you have your companions around you.” the threatening voice said. I jumped up quickly, looking around and made my way back to my companions and the others whose paths had all intersected at this point. “Did you hear that?” I exclaimed, interrupting the conversation. Well if the voices were going to threaten me I certainly wasn’t going to remain quiet and I told the others the threat that I had heard. “Oh that’s just Rai.” said a woman who I later learned was named Louise, a humble servant of Ilmater. “She’s just playing around, she means no harm.” I glanced over and noticed Nar mutter something off into the shadows and as he turned back he rolled his eyes. ‘Right’, I thought, thinking the woman Louise must be a little naïve to think that this woman was just ‘playing around’. Of course, how was she to know what happened with that misunderstanding between Rai and her companion and I previously. What was her companion’s name, the woman in red who had rapiers or something on her belt? La- something or other, I think.

Disturbed by these events, I left and returned to Nashkel for rest. The next morning I met my beloved tiefling friend Mezora in Nashkel and we traveled north along the Trade Way toward the Friendly Arm Inn to visit the merchants in the area. With Mezora at my side, I felt much better about everything. She calmed my fears when I told her about the threat from the shadows, promising to protect me all that she could. And I believed Mezora. After all, my best friend had protected me from the two women before, coming along the road and threatening to yell for the Fist when she saw the two had me surrounded and the way they were talking. When we finally got to the Friendly Arm Inn, we had a look around for awhile at the various merchandise people were selling or auctioning off. As we perused the wares the evening passed and night began to fall, Mezora found something that interested in her and chatted briefly with the merchant before purchasing it. Afterwards she took out her spell book and motioned for us to walk a distance away so that she could put it in the book or whatever it was that she was doing. We stood briefly, a short distance from the merchants who looked like they were about to close up shop since it was now nightfall, and Mezora was buried in her spell book. As I stood there, I heard another whisper from the shadows. This voice was very low in both volume and tone; in fact there was a guttural quality to it.

“Kill…” the voice whispered softly in that low guttural tone that was almost a growl.
“Kill them…” the voice commanded. “Kill them all.” Hells, I certainly understood that command from the voice in the darkness, and it seemed to refer to a group of three adventurers surrounding one of the merchants in the distance. I glanced to Mezora who was still absorbed into her spell book. “What?” I whispered into the darkness, not having any idea where the voice was coming from. Mezora heard me whisper and she looked up from her book. “What?” she said, glancing to me questioningly. I ignored her momentarily and repeated my question to whatever it was that was in the shadows. “What did you say?” I asked into the shadows. Instead of a response, I heard what sounded like a grunt and then nothing else afterwards. “Who are you talking to?” Mezora asked. I shrugged and told her that I thought I heard something but I didn’t say what I had heard. Mezora looked at me worriedly and then she suggested that maybe we should share a room in the inn and get some rest, which sounded like a good idea after the recent events.

That night before I crawled in bed beside my tiefling friend, I wondered vaguely if the mage who brewed that potion of Shapechange that I had consumed a couple of days previous knew what he was doing or if it had gotten contaminated by something. I doubted it though, I was pretty sure of what I heard.

[CrazyHorse]

Journal Entry X: The Loss of My Father

I have been in mourning nearly a ten-day now since learning my father Panfire was murdered. It still hurts. I still vividly remember that day, traveling to Beregost to visit my father as I have done frequently since he’s been helping with the rebuilding. Only that day, as I approached the house, I did not hear the familiar sounds of carpentry work, the clanging of hammers and so forth. It was eerily quiet and I saw no one, save a few commoners milling around, conversation in hushed tones. Seeing no one outside the house, I approached a group of four nearby. One of the ladies glanced at me, an odd expression on her face, and then ran off. That was puzzling of course, and when I asked if any of them had seen Panfire all I heard was ‘I’m sorry miss. You need to go speak to the priest.’

The man wouldn’t elaborate any further on what he meant and so I walked the streets of Beregost to the Temple of Lathander and found the priest outside and asked him about Panfire. With sorrow in his eyes, the priest told me that my father had been attacked outside of town by some roving undead and when they finally found his corpse, the head and fingers were missing. Of course I broke down in tears at this. The priest gave his condolences but I couldn’t even think about what he was saying. My father, my father…. Back in my life after twelve years missing and then just a short time later…this? I cried many tears and only after some time was I finally able to compose myself briefly when the priest sent for the last of my father’s possessions, including a sealed crate with my name on it. One of the guards had set the items over to the side and I excused myself briefly to go look through my father’s possessions, tears in my eyes. I opened the crate that was sealed with wax and had my name on it, and as soon as I broke the seal to the inside, I caught the smell of something awful. To my horror, inside were my father’s fingers and his bloody head. Across his forehead the word ‘Traitor’ was tattooed. I burst into tears again and when the priest turned his attention toward me I quickly put the top back on the crate, trying to compose myself somewhat. No one should see that. I had endured the agony already. No one should see it. No one should know. I knew immediately who was responsible, or at least I am fairly certain of it. The Shadow Thieves. My father worked for them years ago. When I find those responsible, I’ll kill every one of them, I swear.

In addition to this horrible news, there is still the situation with Herran. Do I regret what has happened? The answer to that question is not so simple. Some things I do regret and some I do not. I cannot deny that I care for him, no more than I can deny the light in the sky when it is day or the darkness when it is night. I wish it hadn’t came down to an ultimatum.


//Special thanks to DM Nilbog for the events involving Mila's father!

[CrazyHorse]

Journal Entry XI: The Loss of My Father II

Another frustrating few days have gone by and I still have found out nothing further about those who murdered my father. I've tried to keep those close to me out of this. I don't want anyone getting hurt because of me. I dont want them to hurt as I hurt either so I mask my pain and say nothing when they ask me whats wrong. One day, someone will slip up and I'll find out who was responsible. I just know it.

My father told me he had turned from the path he once traveled down and he encouraged me to not do as he had done when he was young, and travel that dark path. Sadly it seems that though he turned from that path, the path followed him...and he paid for it. Is there a point in time when it is too late to look back? I don't know.

My work has kept me busy. It doesn't seem like there is enough time in the day to do what I need to do, much less what I want to do.

[CrazyHorse]

Journal Entry XII: An Encounter in the Woods of Sharp Teeth

More fruitless days of searching for information on those who killed my father. These things take time though, Searching for hours on end, and...nothing. Then, that one time, you find what you have been searching for.

My private life has been in the forefront much more so lately than business. It is hard when you have someone you care so much about, a best friend really. Someone you have shared much with, laughed with, cried with, fought and nearly died with. And then in a moment of passion, you find yourself disconnected from. And then you are told you must cross that bridge and burn it behind you, so that may never return to the place you were before. It hurts. It is a fruit that leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. And I cannot say that I blame the other person. How would I feel? I know how I would feel. I might say that it didn't bother me. But I know it would. I know that nagging feeling tugging at the heartstrings. It is that little bit of jealousy you feel deep within no matter how you might try to deal with it. That the other two have something, and you are excluded from that. You never shared in that. I don't like that feeling, but it is what it is and so we must do what we can to get past that. But one night of passion cannot erase a thousand memories. Only time can, only time...

And when someone walks away from me in a moment of anger, it hurts. If you choose to walk away, don't take for granted that I will follow. You know what? There are others who would cherish the ground that I walk on. I don't mean to sound haughty but it is the truth. Don't think for a moment that I am bound.

There is a man I've been watching. At first he was disappointing; he was cocky, self-assured and brash. I think I humbled him though. Our second encounter was different, and he surprised me. His way with words impressed me, I was pleased and I told him so. This one may hold promise...

In other news...

A day or so ago I was in Gullykin, visiting the merchants and keeping an eye out for something really nice or worthwhile of value. As I left the town to travel south, I encountered a group of about 5 or so masked individuals. One was dressed from head to toe in a black robe and was masked, and he looked of thin to average build and who spoke as if he was the leader of said individuals. Another masked one was large and stocky, either a very large human or an orc. This one seemed to scout ahead or watch behind for the group. The other three appeared to be females, of what race I could not be sure although one sounded like a drow as she talked later. Of course I was curious, you dont meet a group of masked individuals like that without being curious, well I dont at least. I spoke kindly to them as I do most people on initially encountering them and the one dressed all in black said they were from a place aways away, Icewind Dale, he said. And apparently the weather and environment was the reason they were masked. Mhm, right. Well be that as it may or may not be, I was asked to show them the path to the Woods of Sharp Teeth and kindly obliged. On the other side of the village I said goodbye and they left headed off into the woods. I stayed behind a moment, long enough to go behind a nearby abandoned hut and throw on my other clothes, and I doubled back to follow them.

I followed them a ways into the woods and heard a bit of conversation and then I made a mistake. I got too close to them and the figure in black saw me hiding behind the trees and demanded to know why I was following him. "Curiosity", I answered, as it were but this didn't seem to satisfy the group. I saw from the corner of my eye a couple of the women sliding around to surround me, and so I cautiously reached into my pack for one of the potions I carry for such an occasion and acted as if I could tell nothing.

The figure in black seemed quite sure of himself, but so was I as I was well prepared for these situations. I had the options of darting into the shadows, becoming invisible or becoming ethereal so though I was nervous I was quite confident I would not meet my end and I trust my own reflexes. I simply kept answering 'curiosity' as the reasons for doing what I did. Which in fact was true. One of the females who I am pretty sure was a drow said something about maybe they should kill me. If it would have been just me and her I would have said for that witch to come get me and I would have left her bleeding to death on the ground but there were too many others around which would have made the outcome questionable and so I decided enough with this, I drunk the potion quickly and ran off. As I ran, I heard another of the women say something along the lines of "No, please..." in response to what the drow woman had said. This was the woman who was kind earlier when I led them to the woods. Maybe another time I would have gotten to know who that was but this situation was too dangerous and so I left the woods.

A good lesson learned. Now matter how sure you are of your abilites, you should never get overconfident in them.

[CrazyHorse]

Journal Entry XIII: Shadows Fall II

The frozen snow gave way softly beneath my feet, the fierce cold winds were howling and I wrapped my arms around my own body tightly in a desperate attempt to stay warm. An enormous frost covered Keep stretched before me, obliterating the evening sun’s feeble rays that I otherwise might have found solace in. Nearby, there were bodies lying in the snow, corpses. And there were small pools of blood, bright red- a stark contrast against the pristine and pure white of the fallen snow. I glanced downward at my bitterly cold hands, a dagger held in each- the bright red blood stained each dagger, concentrated mostly around the jagged notches. Jagged notches that I had etched myself, a technique I learned which upon contact would really open up a wound to further bleed my enemies. ‘Clarissa would be proud’ I thought to myself, glancing at my daggers again. There were two small notches as well that Clarissa had etched into the daggers; she showed me how to apply a small amount of poison and the small notches would allow the poison to last for some time so I wouldn’t have to apply it every time. The small vial of giant purple worm poison would last for months or longer, she said. Droplets of blood stained my gray-white dress, the iron smell of fresh blood reached my nose and I frowned at the unpleasant smell.

I paused briefly, considering whether to enter the Keep or not. It seemed to offer protection from the harsh wind at least, maybe it was warmer inside though who knew what enemies might lay along the path, for this way was unknown to me. Stay on the path I knew and deal with whatever I faced, or enter the icy Keep and risk the unknown. The huge wooden doors to the Keep swung open on its own, seemingly inviting me inside. And I stepped inside of my own free will. The interior of the room I stepped within was enormous, massive wooden beams interwoven with enormous stone pillars jutted up toward the ceiling which was far overhead. The interior was cold, icy and dimly lit though enough light entered the huge chamber combining with the color of the stone to enable one to see well. The room was somewhat circular in shape and in the middle an enormous spiral staircase wound as far as my vision enabled me to see. To the left and to the right of the icy chamber I had stepped in were long corridors apparently leading to other rooms in the gigantic Keep.

The wind rushed into the opened doorway sending a shiver up my spine and I stepped further within the interior of the icy circular chamber, moving carefully to avoid slipping on the ice covered stone. As I stepped further within the chamber, the huge wooden doors to the Keep suddenly slammed shut as if drawn by the wind. The same wind that caused me to seek shelter from the elements was now apparently closing me off from the world outside. I made my way back to the door, clutching at the wooden handles and pulling, though all seemed to be in vain. The door was not budging. It seemed as if I was now isolated from the outside, and there was no going back. I turned back to face the dimly lit interior and suddenly heard a lilting voice coming from a direction I could not quite ascertain. At first the soft voice seemed no more than a whisper, and as I listened closer it seemed to beckon to me. As I stood still listening, the voice must have gotten louder because I suddenly realized it was coming from wherever the gigantic white spiral staircase led to. I felt drawn to the voice, as a moth to the flame. There was no denying it nor was there any hesitation at the possibility of danger lying ahead. I climbed the staircase without an afterthought. Up, up and further up led the staircase, and I climbed, it leading me to my highest high. I reached the top of the staircase and paused. I was not even tired; in fact what I felt was exhilaration.

The room I arrived at the top of the staircase was similar to the chamber below, save there was only one way to go, a darkened corridor ahead leading to another large room that emanated with faint white light. I realized then that the voice I was hearing was calling for help, though I couldn’t make out the words, I could feel the distress in the voice. I made my way again toward the voice emanating from the room at the end of the corridor. As I started down the darkened corridor toward the room vaguely I heard what sounded like the front doors of the Keep swinging open. I paused momentarily in the darkened corridor, listening. As I listened, I could have swore I heard the sound of laughter…from within the darkness of the corridor I was in. But it was not happy laughter; instead the laugh sounded malevolent, evil. I frowned, unmoving and then heard the sound of someone calling my name: a male voice, a voice I recognized. The voice seemed to come from whoever had entered the room in the chamber at the bottom of the stairs. From the room ahead of me, the voice called again, calling for help; calling me to it. I ran through the remainder of the darkened corridor and burst into the room.

As I entered the room, there stood a white throne of ice and a woman sat on the throne. This must be the source of the voice, I thought. She leaned forward on the throne, her hair falling forward covering her face. I gasped as I realized the lower half of her body appeared encased in ice, she seemed trapped. Without hesitation I ran toward the throne to help the trapped woman. As I made it to her, suddenly I heard the voice of the man I had heard earlier, calling me by my name. He must have climbed the staircase! I ignored the voice and turned back to tend to the woman trapped. In a panic I thought ‘What can I do?’ and I grabbed the now-quiet woman’s hands, as if I could pull her off of the throne. When I touched her hands, they were as cold as the ice, and she gripped my hands not letting go. I gasped at the feel of those cold hands and that strong grip and she slowly raised her head up to look at me. Her face was very white, pale and frost covered most of her brownish blonde hair. Beads of ice were trapped at the corners of her eyes, as if she had been crying sometime in the past and the tears had frozen. She regarded me calmly and smiled. I realized then that my hands were turning numb and I glanced down in horror as I realized the upper half of the woman’s body was becoming ice, as were my hands which she gripped. I wanted to scream as I looked at the woman of ice but she just regarded me calmly.

It was then I heard the malicious sounding laughter again, this time loudly and glanced behind me to see an enormous devil, maybe an arch devil, at the entrance to the room. It bellowed its horrible laughter and grinned at me, its huge maul revealing ferocious teeth. The beast lunged into the room toward me even as I felt my body being covered completely with ice I could not move. I turned to stare back at the icy figure and suddenly heard the male voice again, near the room. He was singing. The walls in the room were beginning to shake violently, perhaps from the song. I was frozen now from the waist down, no longer in pain, instead I was only numb. The roar from the beast was very near, I knew in mere seconds it would be upon me, however the room was shaking, perhaps the whole place was coming down. The stone pillars begun to crumble around me as the singing continued loudly and the ice overcame my body. As I started to scream, the ice woman looked at me and whispered ‘Fear not.” And at that moment everything collapsed around me.

I awoke from the dream, covered in sweat and scared. It was time to get up. I couldn’t sleep after that.