The Pursuit of Knowledge - Alexandra Keenan

[TarnishedSoul]

A leather-bound notebook is carried by Alexandra, and oftentimes she can be observed writing within it. Many pages contain names, descriptions, and miscellaneous details regarding people she encounters or notices. Other pages are devoted to accounts and/or illustrations of incidents or events she has experienced. Still other pages contain random doodles and words; their meanings are as varied as the notations themselves.

The following entries merely represent a sample of what is contained within the notebook.

[TarnishedSoul]

A Gathering of Heroes

Only a tenday has passed since I disembarked from the ship that brought me to Baldur's Gate, and already I have learned that my arrival is shrouded in peril. The threat of war looms in the distance; it is a roiling cloud of anxiety and trepidation that menaces the populace, and I can do naught but watch.

The Western Heartlands, as I have quickly learned, is filled with a colorful, chaotic cacophony of souls. All manner of shapes, sizes, dispositions, and temperaments have entered my purview, and I have delighted in connecting the tidbits of information these souls have offered regarding their organizations, alliances, enemies, and all things in-between. The people of this place are a font of knowledge, and I feel privileged to learn from them.

The very day after my late-night arrival, Fate blessed me with the opportunity to visit the Duchal Palace - home of the Grand Dukes of Baldur's Gate! - and bear witness to the various delegates to a War Council, which I have learned was formed to counsel the Council of Four. Some of these same representatives are (poorly) sketched at the top of this page, because they and other like-minded individuals banded together to thwart a legion of undead. There were casualties, of course; some of the Flaming Fist and most of the Lathanderite Templars never returned to their families. Still, the overall mission was deemed a success, and I bore witness to weary heroes basking in the shock and awe of their victory. Truly, if this first tenday is any indication, I will fill the pages of this notebook before the end of the season.

[TarnishedSoul]

A Servant of the Mistress of Night

The creature loomed before us, and it blocked the cavernous path that my companions and I sought to traverse. We were protectively cloaked with a variety of magical energies, and our collective presence filled the small subterranean space with shimmering luminescence. The brilliant glow was too much for the creature; "So bright..." its ethereal voice hissed in protest.

I was simultaneously afraid and fascinated. The former emotion prompted me to notch an arrow and train it on the gloomy form, but I kept my distance and stayed near the cave entrance. The travelers with me were not as cautious; they demanded answers from the fluttering darkness as to why it was there.

I did what I do best - I remained quiet and observant, although I was keenly alert to every sound and movement in my immediate vicinity. My heart was pounding in my chest, and my mouth was dry. Truly, I was amazed at the scene that unfolded in front of my very eyes, because - as I soon discovered - the entity was a sentient shadow in service to the Mistress of the Night. The black-and-purple disc that serves as Her symbol was visible near the shade, and the beast claimed that the cavern belonged to Her. "You are all intruders," came the wispy, ominous warning.

The holy warrior of Torm, Erro Silverhand, would hear none of it, of course. He was filled with a righteous fury, and the situation quickly escalated. The shadow momentarily dissipated only to be replaced with a monstrous horned and winged beast. Some of my cohorts attacked it, but I never let loose an arrow. The fight was not one that I wanted, and so I kept my distance. My arrows would not have made a difference, besides; the horror vanished into nothingness, and a disembodied female voice chastised our unified foolishness.

The powerful demonstration was not without purpose, though. Constance, we learned, was the target of the entire display. The "pact-maker," as the discarnate voice called her, could possess similar powers if only she sought the knowledge. Silverhand and the others cautioned her against accepting the deal, but another, more grandiose example of skill that made the previous fiend appear downright tame, sealed her fate. Constance willingly departed, and the rest of us were left with our mouths agape at what had just transpired.

Our once-robust troupe was promptly split in half. The two companions with whom Constance traveled left to find her, but theirs was not a rescue mission. Silverhand and the novice priest of Tyr decided not to pursue; they instead opted to lend their support to a pair of halflings who required aid. I remained with the holy men, because the time was not yet right for me to seek answers to the questions that formed in my mind.

[TarnishedSoul]

Candlekeep

The opportunity to visit Candlekeep availed itself to me, and so I traveled to the massive keep in order to explore its depths at a leisurely pace. The cliff upon which the fortress resides is a steep and lengthy one; I had to stop several times to catch my breath as I made the ascent. The result was worth the effort, though! Under the cover of darkness, and with the ever-present rain of the Western Heartlands falling upon me, I finally stood at the perimeter of one of the most famed places of knowledge in Faerûn.

The Temple of Oghma

I paid my respects to the Lord of Knowledge while I was within His temple, and I placed a small handful of coins upon the altar as tribute. No immediate boon resulted from my meager offering, but I did not expect instant gratification. He has rewarded me for my pursuit of knowledge in other, more subtle ways.

Listening and Learning of Love

I was afforded the chance to bear witness to a lively, spirited conversation regarding matters of the heart. I remained quiet and kept my thoughts to myself, but I was fascinated to hear the hopes and fears of people I had erroneously assumed were already blissfully involved in some manner of romantic relationship. The way that a particular tale weaved together the first blush of romance and the dynamics of organizational politics was especially thought-provoking, although the teller later left much to be desired. (First impressions are meaningful, but subsequent impressions also leave their mark.)

My comprehension of this grandiose place upon the Sword Coast continues to grow, and - aside from a minor incident with aforementioned storyteller - I am pleased with my place. I remain out of sight and out of mind, and I could not be happier.

[TarnishedSoul]

The Candle of Hope

I was the patient light who waited while they waged war against the undead host. I kept the candle alight, and I ensured that no harm came to it. My eyelids grew heavy with fatigue, but still I waited; still I sat vigil.

When I saw the first pair of heroes return, I stiffly rose from my uncomfortable log perch, and I sought to offer praise and gratitude for their safe return. They kept walking, ignorant of my very existence, and the words never had the opportunity to tumble from my lips.

When the next victor returned, she stood for a time as if waiting for someone, but she had no mind to speak with someone as insignificant as me. Her words were clipped and curt, and she soon made the excuse that she needed to seek her rest.

Still, I waited.

And I waited.

And I waited.

The mission was a success, or so the rumor swirled, and the brave group to whom I wished success must have scattered long before they reached the farmlands east of the city, because no one else arrived. Even the druidess, over whose candle I offered to keep watch, must have forgotten that I was still there, waiting.

When the mercenary arrived, he uttered harsh words towards me for the deed; why did I guard the flame when I could have been 'more productive' in the crusade? It did not matter that I lacked the skill to contribute; it did not matter that my presence would have been a liability. He left, but his judgment lingered, and my shoulders slumped at the futility of my actions.

I did the task that was asked of me, and my efforts were for naught save the realization of a valuable lesson. I was reminded that I am no one of consequence, and the machinations of the elite in the Western Heartlands have no need for people like me. The knowledge is occasionally hard to accept, but I will make my peace with it.

All things in time.

[TarnishedSoul]

Red

I am surrounded by red.

It is the color of the unnatural mist that surrounded Candlekeep. The color heralded doom at the hands of Cain, an undead abomination who sought a magical artifact and brought a legion of his minions to aid in the attempt. I stood amongst the crimson swirl alongside the many others who rallied to thwart his efforts, and in the end, we stood triumphant.

It is the color of the blood spilled in the sieges made against Candlekeep and Baldur's Gate. I saw the scarlet hue flood the cobblestones in the latter place as innocent lives were cut short from wave after wave of unnatural creatures led by twisted monstrosities. I was there amidst the throng of protectors who sought to keep the place from falling into ruin, and in the end, we stood triumphant.

It is the color of the hair of my closest friends, although I have not seen one since the end of the fight for Candlekeep. Dinner and a fishing trip is owed. Two others maintain brave faces even when I know there is internal disappointment, albeit for vastly different reasons. One lost a beloved companion; the other lost a desired position. Life continues despite the setbacks.

It is the color of the fabric sewn with disappointment, because for a fleeting moment I believed silken words carelessly uttered. Shameful, I find it, because those same words were uttered to someone else as well. Life continues despite the setback.

[TarnishedSoul]

Ennui

Isabella Villame uttered the word while we were casting our lines into the placid waters at Ulgoth's Beard, and she was - as usual - astute and correct in her choice of verbiage.

She should have been the Guide; the flame within Candlekeep should have been rekindled by her hand. Instead, the responsibility now falls upon the shoulders of someone else who is barely known to me - or anyone else. The place that I thought I would occupy within the esteemed fortress seems lost to me, and I am left with naught but ennui.

What does someone like me do with her life? All my notes and all my observations serve little purpose except to fill my waking hours with busy work. Occasionally, I can impress a stranger with what I already know of him or her, but impressing others is not my goal in life. What need is there of details and drawings except in a place of knowledge such as Candlekeep? The answer to that query remains elusive.

I do not lament; I know that everything that happens in my life happens for a specific reason, even if I remain ignorant to the fact. However, I confess curiosity even as I remain patient.

[TarnishedSoul]

Gone Fishin'

I have been in the Western Heartlands for nigh on two full moons, and I have observed many people. Some are simple passersby who I barely have time to document; others are regular inhabitants that I have scrutinized in more detail.

Of this latter category, I have developed many acquaintances and a small handful of friends. My closest friend is a male half-elf named Wesmille, and the reactions to our friendship are an interesting thing for me to note. According to most everyone, we simply must be lovers.

Since my arrival, I have quickly learned that a great deal of emphasis and importance is placed upon the interpersonal relationships - specifically, the romantic endeavors - of the regular inhabitants. Love affairs and the drama inherent to them pervade the lands in ways that no undead army could ever hope to achieve. I am not opposed to the concept of romance, although I believe it to be an elusive, ephemeral thing that only touches a select handful of fortunate individuals. Romance is a luxurious distraction, and I am too focused upon the plights and perils of the region that I now call home to spend my time in pursuit of a lover.

I do not fault or judge the people who place value upon the pursuit of love, companionship, physical intimacy, or a combination of the three. I am simply a practical woman, and I know that a storybook tale with a storybook knight in shining armor is not what awaits me.

[TarnishedSoul]

[A small corner section of this page has been carefully removed.]

[TarnishedSoul]

"We cannot become what we want by remaining what we are."

It is fear that grips me, I realize. Fear of the unknown; fear of failure. I have grown comfortable and complacent, and I am uncertain how to rid myself of the shroud that surrounds me. All I can do is ask for aid and hope that I receive it.

[TarnishedSoul]

[This page has been removed from the journal.]

Hidden: show

[TarnishedSoul]

Hope

Dare I dream?

[A small piece of parchment, neatly folded in half, is also stashed here.]

[TarnishedSoul]

For once in her life, Alexandra Keenan was without her beloved notebook. The leather-bound tome, which was one of the few material possessions that she treasured, was nestled within the confines of her travel satchel as usual. However, the pack itself was elsewhere - and the young scribe was uncertain as to its location.

It is possible, she thought as she rested in bed and looked towards the ceiling of the dimly lit inn room she had secured for herself in Beregost, that the pack, and thus her collection of notes and memories, was safely in the hands of a trusted friend. Or, that trusted friend could have brought the rucksack and its contents to a certain knight, and she would obtain it from him when next they spoke. On the morrow, he had told her, and so she waited to hear her fate from his lips.

She could not scribe her thoughts, so she let them dance within her head. Every nuance of the events of Doron Amar replayed itself; every mistake she made was vivid and unyielding. She should be ashamed of herself, and she was ashamed. One cannot grow without making mistakes, though; it is when one learns from the mistakes so that they are never repeated that wisdom and maturity are granted. Her lesson was painfully learned, but she was still thankful for it. Everything happened as it was meant to happen, regardless of the result.

She was nervous, but the nagging sensation in her heart was mild. There was a possibility that her dream could slip from her fingertips, and she had to acknowledge and prepare for that reality, but the trepidation was dwarfed by far more powerful feelings: hope and faith. Come whatever may, she would be a better person for having experienced all that had happened, but she hoped that the wayward mistakes of a smitten girl would not be cruelly punished. She surrendered her fate to the whims of the Gods, and she maintained faith that one in particular would reward the soft pledges she uttered to Him every morn, for she meant them.

She sat upright after a restless, futile attempt to sleep, but her mind was still too active for her to slumber. Her eyes strayed towards the window of her room, and she watched and waited until the first strands of light filtered through the curtains. As dawn came to Beregost, and she knew that this was the moment that would forevermore change her life, the young woman's fingers clasped around her left wrist and a particular item worn there. Her tired eyes peacefully closed, and she bowed her head towards the window as she quietly, reverently prayed.

"Gratitude to You, oh Morninglord, for another blessed day. Forgive me, I beseech You, and do not deny me the gift that is Your Light. Guide me, for I am imperfect, but I will strive towards perfection as You command. Be with me, a humble but sincere servant, so do I pray."

When her words were finished, she opened her eyes and looked towards the window again. A serene smile curved her lips, and she looked weary but content as she started her day.

[TarnishedSoul]

I am a practical woman; I know when I have lost. I lost sight of myself; I lost sight of the values that I hold dear. I lost my sense of purpose, and I lost my once-firm hold upon the reality that is my life.

I could make excuses for my behavior, but those excuses do not matter. They cannot undo the mistakes; they cannot erase the past.

I could cast blame elsewhere, but doing so does not matter. The mistakes of others are theirs to reconcile if they so choose, and all I can do is hope that some wisdom was gained. I learned valuable lessons, and my life will forevermore be changed for them.

I once read a quote in some long-forgotten tome: "The greatest test of courage is to bear defeat without losing heart." Am I brave enough? Am I strong enough?

Life continues, and I will persevere. There is always another morning.

[TarnishedSoul]

[Upon the preceding page is what appears to be an entry of some sort that has been written by a masculine hand.]

I have packed everything that I need to take with me.
I have informed my colleagues in Candlekeep that my research and projects will be paused.
I have a few more missives to send so that the children will be tutored in my absence.
And then I will leave, and I will do what needs to be done to save someone.
In this, at least, my presence and efforts will be appreciated.