The Journal of Da-an Fang

[Charraj]

The leather-bound book is worn and beaten. It has seen many roads and been to many places, but it is kept well by its owner.

Its most recent entry reads:

I have met the half-elf Catam, by chance, on the Lion's Way. This was the one Nathaniel Collins told me to seek.
"I am Fang Da-an, and I would ask for your help," I told Catam after he introduced himself. "I seek an elf. A female elf, by the name of Elisuna. Do you know who she is? Where she lives? Can you find her?"
"I can find her . . . " the half-elf began. But he then became pensive. "Fang . . . I know the name." He looked at my katanas. "And I know those blades."
"They were given to me in Neverwinter," I told Catam. It was true, then. This half-elf knew my father.
Catam nodded. "I think I even gifted one or two of those to the original owner." Possible. If this was true, then I might not even have to find Elisuna.
Catam noticed my frown. "That is not good news to you?"
"I do not know how I feel about all of this, truth be told," I confessed. "But I aim to find out."
"Show me the symbol of the Great Mother," Catam asked. With only a second of hesitation, I showed him the symbol of Chauntea that I had carved for myself in my youth.
The half-elf smiled. "I was tutored in my youth by a priest who carried that symbol."
"In my homeland," I told him, "Her followers are persecuted. And often put to death." Could it really be that those who worshipped Her did not have to hide their faith here? "It is a travesty," I told him.
"It is," Catam agreed. He bowed low. "I am at your service, kind Fang. I will find Elisuna."
"My thanks." I told him of my intentions. Of how the moon elf Silias agreed to try resurrecting my father, if I could only find his resting spot.
"I saw her bring back to life a dead elf," I told Catam, "and hope that she might work the same magic for my father."
"For what end . . . ?" Catam asked.
I must have frowned as I pondered the question. "I do not know," I confessed at last. Acknowledgment, I suppose. To challenge him. Not in a fight. But to see him, and what others saw in him."
The half-elf studied my face intently as I spoke. "You did not know him," he said.
I am sure my smile was bitter. "Oh, I knew him. When I was little, as one of his many students."
"But . . . did you not know him in later years?" Catam asked.
"No. He did not even know I was his son. . . . And I did not know he was my father." I recognized that the feeling of resentment was becoming strong. I tried to let it pass. It was difficult. "My mother lived a selfish lie."
"And you want to be certain that you are his son," Catam said.
Was that it? " . . . I suppose. I do not have reason to believe that she lied to me, at the end, when she told me what she told me. But yes, she could have been lying, even then. I would like to know. For sure, I would like to know."
"Would it help if I told you that you look very much like him," Catam told me. "Younger of course, and no beard."
How many times I have heard that. "I have been told this before," was all I told the half-elf.
"By Aston . . . the paladin . . . ?"
He was only one of many. "Yes, that was the paladin's name."
"He buried him," Catam told me.
Yes, I knew that Aston buried my father. "He and one other," I told Catam. "Aston said that she would be able to show me his resting spot."
"And your intention is to un-bury him." His disapproval was plain in his voice and expression.
How to explain so that this half-elf would understand? "When I was little, my mother made me join his classes at the monastery," I began. "He was terribly strict. Even brutal. When I sparred with him for one time, he cracked a rib as he knocked me to the ground. And then he told me that I was dead. No, he yelled that at me. I never went back." I paused, wondering how to continue. ". . . And then my mother swears that she loved him? I hear all these tales of his prowess and goodness?"
"Did he not know you were her child?" Catam asked.
"He knew I was her child," I answered. "He did not know I was his. . . . I do not think so, at any rate. You see? I simply do not know. Only he could answer all of my questions."
"And these questions might never be answered," the half-elf was bold enough to say.
"They can be," I told him. "If your elf god Corellon wills it, it is possible. I have seen Silias work this miracle."
"Fang . . . ."
"She spoke to her god and he answered her prayer," I told him. Why could he not see?
"I cannot allow you to un-bury him . . . ."
Anger clouded my mind. "What is the meaning of this?" I demanded of him.
"It is wrong to disturb a resting place." The nerve of this half-elf!
But after several moments, moments in which I might well have struck this half-elf down, I had to admit to myself that he was right. "But surely an exception can be made."
"It might not even work, if the soul is un-willing to heed the call of the priest." Catam was trying to placate me.
"He would heed the call of his own son!" Would he not?
"If it were your voice, perhaps." Catam's tone was maddening. "But can you call upon the Earth Mother like the priest can call upon the Great Father?"
"He would know that the cleric Silias calls him at his son's request, surely." I knew I was trying to convince myself.
"Nonetheless, the grave will not be disturbed. I will help you find the answers any other way but that." I marveled at Catam's nerve. I wondered, for one second, how difficult it would be to remove his head. But I put away such thoughts as unworthy.
"Will you find Elisuna?" I asked him, moving on.
"I will," Catam answered. "And even the priestess Silias. But not to uncover a grave."
"I have spoken to Silias myself," I told Catam. "She agreed to do this already. She agreed to try it."
"That is unfortunate . . . for I will not allow it." Thoughts of removing the half-elf's head surfaced in my mind once again. "Your father was a friend... and fought by my side many times."
"What right do you have to stop me?" I demanded. One of my father's katanas has an angry spirit inside of it, and I could feel the spirit urging me to action.
"The right of my heart," Catam answered. "I would do this for any of my friends lain to rest. I even . . . " He paused, as though experiencing a painful thought or memory. "I lost my wife recently. 'Eaten by orcs' were the words that a pirate used. The pirate that now claims to be the true father of the daughter my wife and I raised. A priest tried to resurrect her. The soul was unwilling . . . ."
I willed to angry spirit to be silent and waited for Catam to continue.
"My heart, Fang, is torn to pieces," Catam went on. "Yet I strive to accept and go on with my life: my path as a ranger of the Forest Queen. And I will not let you disturb the grave of my friend."
"You tried to resurrect her," I countered. "How is that any different from what I seek to do?"
"I did not."
"Then who?" I asked.
"There are certain things you should never ask me again," the half-elf warned. "That is one of them. The other is to help unbury your father."
It was fast becoming apparent that this meeting between rangers would not end harmoniously.
"I will find you again, when I am in a better mood," Catam said. "Good day. And . . . may the Great Mother be bountiful to you."
"Do not try to stop me," I warned him. "Chauntea's blessings, half-elf." I left him on the Lion's Way.
We will almost surely come to blows.

[Charraj]

I have met a woman named Deirdre. She is a dangerous one, both with her claws and her words. Before I knew what she was doing, she had shaken my faith in . . . everything.

My mother was a follower of Chauntea. Tai Kuo, the father that I grew up with, followed the Path of Enlightenment. And Master Fang, the one my mother claimed was my real father, ostensibly followed The Way.

I had counted myself as a follower of Chauntea. I still do, I suppose. But I wonder now if I ever truly believed Her tenets and teachings. I only became one of Her followers through my mother, and perhaps even then only because I felt the need to protect her. Followers of Chauntea are brutally persecuted in my homeland. Is that all there ever was to my faith in the Great Mother: filial piety?

I carry my father's katanas, and I use them well. But is it proper for a Chauntean to wield such weapons? Indeed, the teachings of The Way resonate with me more and more as the days pass by. And in the land of Chauntea, no less, where Her followers are free to worship as openly as they please.

One thing is certain. The woman Deirdre is to be avoided.

[Charraj]

The half-elf Catam challenged me to a duel of honor. I lost. As a consequence of losing the duel, I am honor-bound to not seek the resurrection of my father. I cannot even seek out his resting place.

This is maddening, especially since I discovered yesterday that my father might have known that I was his son after all!

. . .

It is clear to me that three of my father's blades have evil natures; they are clamoring loudly in my mind and trying to incite me to acts of anger.

Had the Order of the Silver Rose not come by, I might well have succumbed to the three blades. Haeman and his people exude a light that soothes the heart.

[Charraj]

Brannak, a dwarf of the homeless Ironfaar clan, has told me some things about the three blades that concern me.

I knew already that one was a "lifedrinker."

But the blade with an evil spirit inside of it, he named a "druid blade." Which is very worrying to me.

The last blade he told me was cursed.

Why would my father carry such weapons with him? Brannak suggested that he did not want them to fall into the wrong hands. Perhaps. But could he not simply have destroyed them then, if that were the case?

. . .

I can still speak dwarven passably well.

[Charraj]

While fighting two ogres in the mountains north of Baldur's Gate, a woman robed in gray approached me. I warned her to stay back, because ogres are strong creatures with long reaches. She instead casted a spell upon me which caused my wounds to heal.

After the ogres had been killed, we exchanged words. She was Louise, an Ilmateri sister, and she was there to heal any wounded adventurers she might find. She offered to assist me, and summoned an air elemental to show that I need not worry overly much about her safety.

It soon became obvious that her god favored her highly. Rather than me protecting her, she was protecting me. Ilmater granted her every prayer.

So I decided to ask sister Louise for her opinion on my father's evil blades. She declared that the lifedrinker was no more evil than any one of my father's other blades. She was of course speaking from an Ilmateri standpoint, and making a statement against violence in general. But I took comfort in the thought that if the lifedrinker truly had evil magic in it, she would have sensed it and told me of it. Surely she would have.

I left her to meditate on the issue. When I returned later, sister Louise was gone.

[Charraj]

I recall the night that Tari, a great Wa bardess, came to my village to perform. My parents, being merchants of some influence, were able to procure good seats quite easily. But everyone who could afford to do so came to listen to Tari's performance. There were villagers from all walks of life in attendance and the theater was fully seated; a bardess of Tari's reputation passed by our area rarely, if at all.

I remember seeing even old man Sugihara at the theater and thinking that he must have spent most of his earnings to attend the performance, for he was only a candlemaker and not even a wealthy one.

Tari came onto the stage and played many songs on her shamisen, but she did not sing. This made sense because it was said that she sang only for her most distinguished audiences, such as rulers and great officials. Even with just the shamisen, we were not disappointed. I have never heard such extraordinary music come from three strings, and it seemed that all too soon she stood up to signal the end of her performance. Tari bowed to the audience and looked around the room with a smile.

Her gaze stopped somewhere in the middle of the room. I remember following her eyes and thinking that surely Tari was offended by old man Sugihara's presence in the theater, for it almost seemed as if it was him at whom her gaze was directed.

But Tari sat back down and gestured for one of her students to fetch her koto. I was very curious, because I had thought the performance was over. She began to play on her koto and it was even more beautiful than the music that had come from her shamisen. And then Tari sang.

I do not remember the words of her song, but I remember that she sang of loss and salvation and of old debts unpaid. Her song carried gratitude and hope in every note. I wept for the second time in my life.

After the song, she stood and bowed very deeply. She looked back to the middle of the room and I followed her gaze again. Old man Sugihara was nowhere to be found, and Tari left soon after that.

Sugihara died several years later. Many people, people not of our village, came to attend what most villagers expected to be a small funeral. By that time I knew that these were Chaunteans, come to pay their respects to someone who had saved hundreds of Chauntean lives.