Never Again Forget - Saint Merielle Silene

[LeslieMS]

[TWENTY-FOURTH ENTRY]


Goodness… Yesterday turned into such an exhausting day… I went to sleep without writing.
But let me backtrack just a pinch, since the last couple of days have been rather full of events. It is a wonder how such small happenings can pile one on top of the other in such a way…

So a couple of days ago, I accepted the offer, officially, to stay at Candlekeep. I will be working from the infirmary. The poor nurse there, Abigail, I think Miss Joan said her name was… hardly gets a moment’s rest. Well I shall see to it that she does not work round the clock now. While the place serves its function… I find it far too reminiscent of a funeral parlor… I have set about hanging some drawings about the place… Added a few pots of herbs too. This serves a dual purpose… The herbs add a relaxing mix of aromas to the air, and I can grow medicinal herbs to have on hand, and hang them in the corners to dry. I think I shall also plant some Poppies and Daisies outside around the infirmary. That should prove to brighten the place up… It is a wonder people can find the materials needed to tend wounds… There is not a readily accessible shop to purchase supplies such as bandages and other implements or curatives. For now I plan to make trips as needed to obtain proper supplies when we run low.
~~

I have spent a great deal in conversation with both Myhun and Joan… Each fascinating persons in their own right, I look forward to getting to know them both a bit better in the days to come.
~~

My work with Val continues to progress, slowly but surely. Each time I speak with her, I note improvement in her grasp of the language. Seems the drawing prove useful where words fail, and I have taken to regularly making sets of drawings for her to study and learn from. So far this seems effective. However, something I have noticed, she seems to translate from her language, to Common… and it seems out of order. Perhaps the transitional order of words are different in her native tongue. I shall work on that. Though grammar is of less import than a good grasp of the language.
~~

Upon visiting the Ilmater temple yesterday morning… I discovered that there were a large number of dead cats at the temple. At first I suspected some manner of desecration or other act of ill intent… however I later discovered that it was the well intended, if not misguided attempt at donating meat for food, by Colt. While I do not wish to discourage the good intent behind such an act… I do need to -redirect- his focus to game meat. I took care of the cats… a shame… he meant well, but the number of cats with collars has the sisters upset. Likely pets. Still in the future, If I task Colt with ‘good deeds’ I shall be MUCH more specific.

If only I could help him to understand that he must let go of his anger… Forgiveness is a duel-edged blade. To be forgiven, one must learn to forgive… It is a long and trying road ahead, but I think with some gentle encouragement he can be brought to light. Perhaps I should also seek to find him some honest work, that way he can make a bit of coin and not have to resort to theft so much…
All things in good time… in good time indeed.
~~

Speaking of honest work… I learned how easily one task, seemingly simple can turn into an ordeal and quickly.

As I was contemplating what needed to be done yesterday, I realized I was extremely low on coin. While I am not one for profiteering, I do need gold to purchase supplies. So as I contemplated the day, A gentleman… by the name of Jorial suggested I check with the mining company. He agreed to accompany me on the task. While I appreciate the escort to keep me out of trouble… I was ill-prepared for his flirting and flattery. Most often I found it prudent to remain silent. It was not an unpleasant thing… he is just perhaps a bit more forward than I could appreciate. Still he meant well I suppose. So we set off.
Perhaps what should have been an omen of the day… A loose raging bull at poor Jorn’s farmstead. Regretfully I had to put down the beast, though Jorn bore me no anger for such. Instead he was rather grateful that he did not get stomped by the angry animal.

He did not however let it go to waste, quickly preparing the meat, and using the hide to make leathers out of. I was given the leather to sell as I saw fit.

We continued on, and while our main goal was to retrieve some ore from the mines… we came across several other events of note.

I cannot remember the precise order of the events, but there was an attack of shadow druids in the Cloakwood as we exited the mine. A merchant caravan that was in need of escort and some Lathandarites, who it seems later were in league with those who wished to rob the caravan. Sadly we were unable to keep the merchants in one piece. There was an odd gnome with a gaggle of larger than normal animals… and while he seemed vastly egotistical, and a bit off in the mind, I was hoping diplomacy would keep things from turning violent… However, diplomacy failed. The battle that ensued was complicated by gnolls, and my meager skills in combat were nearly no match for that number of foes. My wounds at one point were such that I thought surely I would fall. I could not concentrate on prayers, nor could I focus enough to properly repair the damage my body was taking on. By the grace of Mercy… I did not fall, and was able to keep myself in one piece, and rejoin the battle. I fear I shall have to work on my combat skills… Life away from the temple is proving quite dangerous… perhaps not as dangerous as the Underdark… but here I am expected to fight back. If I am to defend myself as needs must, then I shall learn, even though I have no love of it.

There was some sort of golem thing on the road as we made our way from Candlekeep, asking about a breaker of a Contract… or something. I did not understand it all, and had we not had such pressing business in Baldur’s Gate, I might have elected to stay and unravel the mystery. However there were plenty of folks willing to investigate the matter so we went on our way.

The pressing business in Baldur’s Gate was to seek out Beren. We met Christan on the road and he was quite upset about some demon attack and something wishing Beren dead for some reason or something… He asked that we seek Beren out and warn him of the latest attack. Poor Beren… seems there is always something trying to kill him for some reason. Still, we did not find him in Baldur’s Gate, which I doubted we would have. He is banned from even stepping foot in the Merchant camp outside of town. Having not found him, we returned the ore to the Mining Company. That plus the loot of the day, gave me a sufficient amount of coin for purchasing supplies for Candlekeep. I wished to seek out Beren and make sure of his wellbeing, but I was so thoroughly exhausted from what little sleep I had been getting coupled with the events of the last two days… I could barely make my way to the merchant camp dawn much less seek him out.

Thresuin was there, as was Myhun. While Myhun took care of some pressing matters, I spoke at some length with Thresuin. He seems changed. I wished I could have spoke to him at greater length, but Myhun’s impatience coupled with his natural penchant for mischief brought our conversation to a close for now.

As tired as I was, I knew it prudent to make my way back to Candlekeep. Thankfully Myhun was willing to accompany me there. It gave me an opportunity to speak with him at greater length about my stay in Candlekeep. We arrived at last, and then continued our conversation. We were later joined by Miss Joan briefly, and a series of lighthearted conversations ensued. Soon after, she departed, and Myhun turned the conversation to more personal matters… I am wholly unsure how to handle this situation. He is a character to be sure… With hope an amiable solution will present itself.

Finally exhausted… I could carry on no more polite conversation much less more serious or involved topics… as I was ready to depart for the inn, I was further surprised by an offer to make use of a guest room. Exhaustion won out over prudent judgment, and I gratefully accepted. While I trust Myhun to be relatively… honorable, I still made sure the door was secured.

I fell exhausted into bed that morning, and slept away the day, most of the night. I woke just before dawn, hungry and well rested I set off to the inn. I finished my breakfast as the sun rose. Now I shall make my way to Baldur’s Gate. Hopefully this day will be a relatively calm one, and if it is not, I pray I am ready to handle whatever tasks are before me.
~~

[LeslieMS]

[TWENTY-FIFTH ENTRY]

The night passed was most strange. As Colt and Oawa and I passed the evening in conversation some strange malady took hold. Fortunately it was stayed with some herbal curatives and some prayers. Before I had time to analyze the illness, the evening became most unpleasant. It took a bit for me to figure it out, and by the time I did I was unable to speak, but everything we uttered came to pass be it firestorms from the sky or dragons. Some force was twisting our words and using them against us. I am no good at charades I learned…

By the time I could speak I was nearly out of healing supplies and patience. Still unsure entirely why it was happening, I did not dare leave for fear that someone would speak fatally. Oawa… I do not know what to make of her entirely chaotic nature. She seemed amused by the number of near death instances she could cause with an offhand remark. I prayed for patience and a gentle hand… for some sort of clue as to what was happening. I began to fear that I would have to render her unconscious for the benefit of all. Somehow over the din of noise and foray of incursions… everything from angels to demons and all in between and the roar of a furious storm my prayers were heard and to a point answered. I entreated Ilmater for guidance, for patience and for strength in the face of whatever foulness was afoot. A whisper across my mind urged me to seek a druid. One of nature, to unravel the mysteries of the night. My pleas with the others for prudent silence went mostly unanswered… Carelessness as such was nearly fatal on many occasions. Fearing to leave, lest someone become wounded, I set off, though thankfully not alone.

A paladin, Lathandarite and Tessian agreed to come with me. I knew not where to look found no one, and fearing the worst, I returned to Oawa and the others. Praying urgently for some divine hand to intervine on our behalf… We were attacked by Treeants. Fortunately Esen was able to capture one of the wild trees, and through a feat that baffles me still summoned a large bear. The bear spoke to the tree, and shortly thereafter a druidess arrived. Something is harming the forest to the north… and it is dire enough that nature is unbalanced and most upset at the intrusion. The tree however seemed confused, mistaking the merchant camp at the edge of town for a part of the High Forest far to the north. Almost as suddenly as the trouble started it ended. The night grew calm, but for me it was an eerie calm. Others were content to believe the danger has passed. I am not so sure. For the very elements of Nature to lash out in such a fashion… the trespass is grave indeed. I fear this is not but the deceptive calm for a raging storm yet to come, and unlike anything we have yet to see. I remain vigilant for some indication of trouble… watchful over innocents and fools alike, and pray I may keep them all in one piece.

A pleasant day passed after the previous days events. I continued to work on a landscape… one of my own imaginings, with sweeping hills and Stalwart mountains. As I worked, the Bard Julie continued her tale of Elva. Well it is a tale of Many Tales it seems. I enjoy them however, and they are a pleasing backdrop to drawing.

We were joined by many over the course of the day… these lands are constantly busy, and full of so many entwining stories that it is nearly impossible to keep up with all of them

Colt continues to work at his new path, though he will require much more guidance and encouragement. Language with Val is also progressing steadily. She is homesick, and feels isolated by her language barrier. I sincerely hope that I may help to ease her discomfort through diligent teaching of the common language, and through friendship.

Though I was now out of bandages, and very low on coin. Still fearing a repeat of my last outing, I agreed to run an errand for Maltz, and with Val to accompany me to Beregost we set out. She is a skilled fighter, though her style is one bordering on ferocity, it does get the job done. She wields a bow, and a large axe. It would seem that close combat entices her into an almost feral state, but as soon as battle concludes she resumes her calm watchfulness. Thankfully the trip there and back was hindered by nothing more than goblins and gnolls.

However as we approached the city, the farmlands seemed under attack. At first I did not know what the problem was, until I caught the first shadowy glimpse of a night-skinned elf… Drow. I feared my courage would waver, but scarcely had time to consider it. Fortunately my instincts to aid others in battle overtook my fear of the foul Black-hearted fiends. The battle was unorganized… and chaotic. I found my self split between to sides… trying to tend wounded on two fronts. As it turned out there were only two Drow.

Winded, but pleased that the battle was won, and those who fought it were still standing, I learned that while less efficient, it is possible to stitch together gaping wounds while running so long as prayers and patience are applied as well. I became badly wounded at one point by some foul magic thrown from the Drow… and feared the worst for a moment… By Grace and Mercy I stood, applying bandages quickly to my own wounds I made my way back to the campfire to catch my breath. I was surprised by a whispered thank you from Miss Dredd. My then meager supply of herbs and medicines depleted, and Maltz’s goods undelivered, Val made her way exhausted to the inn. I delivered the goods, taking the payment and immediately purchasing more supplies. I have less than 100 coins. I donated 50 to the temple, as I have been lax in my donations the last few days. Spending some time in prayer and meditation to ease my racing mind, I departed the temple.

A man asked if I knew where he could get a meal. He hadn’t enough coins for a room and a meal, and looked as if he needed both, so I bought him dinner and a room. He was grateful and promised to return the favor in kind. Smiling I sent him on his way assuring him he owes me nothing. It feels good to help those in need when I am able. I returned to the merchant camp finding Julie equally exhausted. Smiling tucking some coins into her hand I sent her off to get a proper bit of rest at the inn. I do not think I have seen her rest since she arrived a few days ago. She called it a donation, I called it a thank you for the hours of stories she has shared.

I think I shall hunt a bit when I gather herbs tomorrow. My supply of venison jerky and dried fruits are lacking. Tomorrow I shall also need to see to some fresh bread for the Ilmatari temple. Obviously someone enjoys my cooking, as the soup I make in the mornings and fresh bread are gone in the evenings. I have the time to do it, and the sisters are so busy tending the ill and the wounded. Rabbit and deer are plentiful in the forests, and there are all manner of berry bushes and apples. Brother Marcus has said that I may use the kitchen in the temple for the preparing of my own food when I prepare for the temple. Some day I suppose it would be grand to have my own home with my own kitchen… I almost miss my meager dormitory apartment in Trademeet. It wasn’t much, but it was a bed of my own, a kitchen, and a warm fireplace to draw and write by.

I guess I am a bit homesick myself. I worry for Brother Dracius and Iliara… I have heard nothing from them since shortly after arriving in Baldur’s gate… I pray they are busy and not that something is amiss. If I have not heard from them by the end of the week I shall make a trip to Trademeet to check on them. It would be a good idea to visit anyway so that I may pick up my drawings. I am sure there are others that would be suited to the infirmary. Plus I think I can fit no more pages in the binding of leather that contains these pages. A larger binding and cover would be impractical, so I think I shall settle on a new journal to write in. The scroll case holds all my sketches of faces nicely, and the map case is large enough to hold dozens of drawings easily.

I think I have just enough coins for a warm bed and a hot meal tonight… I shall make my way to the inn and rest before making my way to Candlekeep in the morning.
~~

[LeslieMS]

//Thank you everyone I have RPed with the last few days... good guys and the bad guys Nothing like a total worst nightmare scenario to add a layer to the RP//

[TWENTY-SIXTH ENTRY]

I have witnessed the lines between the truth of what I see, and the truth I feel in my heart blur in days passed. I have always tried to make choices I will not later regret. This is not to say that my choices are easily explained to others, easily understood, or even viewed as folly. Still at the end of the day, I feel I can live with choices others may not. I wonder if it is this same thought process that motivates others in the choices they make? I wonder if they disagree with my choices as much as I may disagree with theirs?

I know not what events in the past led fully to the events of the last few days which in turn leaves me here full of questions. The most prominent question is Why? There are questions I cannot give form… I haven’t the words. Perhaps it is because I do not understand so much, that I cannot put to parchment.

A city grieves this night, and somewhere a man wanted for murder. Try as I may I can not bring my heart to anger or outrage over any events of the last few days… not but sadness. Tears hidden fall freely and sleep will not come easy as the past shifts to the present or maybe the other way around? Does it matter? I stood, I survived, I did not compromise.

A quiet breakfast at Candlekeep’s inn ended in darkness and pain. Myself and several others enjoyed the dawn, and pleasant conversation. I smiled as the door to the inn opened and Beren stepped through. He has always been amiable and kind. He has never given me reason to doubt his character. He was troubled though for what reason may never be made clear, but he always seemed to be in the interest of the good of all. So how is it that a man of character such as this is wanted now for murder of Fist guardsmen? What pieces of the puzzle are lost to me? I have no doubt he feels it justified… It has never been my place to decide life or death of another… I pray it never will be. I hate combat, have no love of taking life…and perhaps will never be comfortable with murder regardless of its reason or justification.

And what of the dead Captain? I never knew him very well, but often times one can learn volumes by looking another in the eyes. I had heard stories of him… questionable character, in truth the few times I had met him, he gave me no reason to like him. And as angry as some stories of the man made me, I knew they were simply words. I chose to wait for his actions to give the words of others credit, or prove them falsehood.

My thoughts are fragmented, and while the skills of the Priest of Torm were indeed commendable I find that old forgotten wounds ache and I am exhausted. Breakfast… Beren came in and it was evident something was amiss. We offered to let him join us for breakfast, and he refused. Said he only came to get some things and that he must hurry. He warned us to be careful of the roads since he would not be patrolling them any longer. Queries as to why were met with venomous answers about the Duke that I did not understand. He left as quickly as he arrived.

While we sat, the lighthearted mood of breakfast unbroken, the others talked politics and diplomacy… I could not hold back the feeling that this was nothing more than a peaceful day the moment before the storm breaks. The Fist guards came into the inn shortly after Beren left. Miss Dredd was there, and the green skinned man that the day before had carved the lovely tiger in my pack… The strange one who spoke to the rocks and the earth. He stayed quiet as did the other guard who I did not recognize. Miss Dredd spoke, none too happy that Beren had come and gone. I am not sure what compelled the others to keep talking, and provoke her to rage. Maybe they thought she held no authority because it was Candlekeep. Had Myhun not consented that she do what needs be done to capture Beren they might need not worry. Tessian was cuffed and marched away… the others stunned as Miss Dredd promised to return for the rest of us… Aiding and Abetting of a man wanted for Treason against the Duke. I had heard stories, and until this day had discredited them as the fabrications of disgruntled ne’er do wells. Something in her voice sent ripples down my spine. Perhaps it was that same tone I had heard so many times before the whip cracked… the coals burned… but I knew… I stood… I had no second thought as I walked out of the in and out the front gate of Candlekeep. I do not know if the others followed as I made my way out. Wholly focused on one thought: He will be tortured.

I caught her at the gates and bid her speak to me. I cannot remember what I said to her specifically, I only know that my one condition was that she release Tessian. My hope that she would in turn spare the others. As we left the gates she remarked about me being a mage, and I was gagged. Not that I would have tried to escape or utter a spell to grant me an exit. If I would have done so her focus would have been on the others. The walk was silent from Candlekeep to Baldur’s Gate. Once back in the city I was led to the prison. I did not speak in protest. A silent prayer my bastion in what was to come. I thought at first it would not be as bad as I feared it may have been. She asked if he had said where he was headed and I told her no. I did not lie, I did not embellish but still torments were called for. She repeatedly reminded me that it was pointless to protect a man who obviously cared nothing for others least of all his friends. I said nothing. I did not tell her the only reason I was in that cell was so that another would not be. I have withstood much in the past, and survived. This was but a drop in the sea. Now, I had Ilmater’s guiding hand at my back. I cannot explain the sense that some unseen hand held me up… kept me conscious… The image of fields of daisies lending calm to my mind… Comfort.

At some point I think I nearly passed out. Perhaps I might have if Justin had not come down the steps with Julie in tow. I did not want that woman thinking I cared for the dear young bard enough that I might ‘remember’ for her sake rather than my own. It was the unseen hand of Ilmater that lent me strength and the will to spit venom… I could see in Julie’s eyes that my words stung. It broke my heart to be cruel in such a manner. Julie is a kind soul, with a good heart. I could bear much, but not her demise. I pushed through the guilt nagging at my mind until finally Miss Dredd lead her away. I could see then in Justin’s eyes that he was unhappy with what had been done. I saw the hand of mercy pass over his eyes. He gave me his word Julie would not return as a means to draw Beren out. Troubled by his own conscience I heard him order for a priest as he left. I drifted somewhere between pain and death, and each moment I though my eyes would close and not open I felt the strong hand of my patron draw me back. The pain was great, but my faith was greater. I spent a long night there. A priest healed my wounds, and I vaguely recall being lifted to the bed. Was it Crownsilver’s voice or that of Ilmater… perhaps both? That bid me rest. I slept… but not long.

I heard a clanging door and woke with a start. The meager rags I wore did little to block out the chill of the cell. For a moment I thought myself deep in the Underdark… I desperately tried to recall… Was I found? Did the Matron of House Baenund once again hold her slave? Afterall the small of my neck still bears the brand marking me. By all right in the eyes of the Drow I am naught but stolen property to be returned… then slowly as consciousness took hold… I recalled where I was and why. Looking around I saw no other prisoners, the guards silent and unmoving. I dared not speak. Whispered prayers and the sounds of rats were the only sounds to greet my ears. I sat on the stone floor of the cell in the stillness I found myself amid fields of daisies. My meditations and prayers broken by worries that friends I hold dear were not safe… or worse would try to break me out. I prayed in earnest that they did not. I thought surely my fears were unfounded until I heard footfalls down the steps. To my horror Miss Dredd marched Tessian into the cell across from mine. My blood turned cold as she spoke:

‘Miss Williams is familiar with our interrogation methods… You won’t mind if I interrogate him here will you?’

I knew them my will had failed me, and I know from her cruel smile that she was willing to exploit that fear. By Grace of Mercy it never came to that, and satisfied she led him back up and out not scarce more than an hour later…

She began to ask of events well passed, and I told her plainly that no amount of questions could not jar my memory. I would need my journal to even know what she spoke of, and even then there was no guarantee that it was important to me to write down. My journal was given to me then… was it need that compelled her to do so, knowing that my thoughts were useless if I did not get them within the bindings of this worn and tattered book… or dare I hope some small mercy she was not even aware of? Either way I was brought a bowl of what could barely be called waste much less food, and a quill with ink to write… my journal left in my hands.

Very shortly after that a guardsmen came to the door. Fearing a beating or something else I regarded him warily.

He spoke, grief shook his countenance. He seemed apologetic. He regarded me with a compassion I did not expect. Told me that I would have been released sooner, but that there was a miscommunication. Captain Crownsilver had ordered that I be released the next day regardless of whether Beren had turned himself in or not. However that the captain had been slain. Regardless of what kind of man he was in life nothing would be served by disrespecting him in his death. I bear none of them any ill, not even Miss Dredd. The guard returned my things and I gratefully put on my robes. My hair cut jagged and shorn, barely covered the large scar near my temple, but I managed to get it tucked neatly into a knot. The few bruises that remained of the ordeal were covered by my robes with the exception of the still tender and faintly bruised eye. No doubt it will be right as rain by morning. The remaining aches and pains will no doubt be gone in a few days.

Tessian was there when I was released. He took me for a much appreciated breakfast. And I did my best to move passed the dark corners of the whole mess. Many were glad to see me, many more had questions. Some difficult to answer. The day found me back at Candlekeep sitting at the same table, and praying for a better outcome. Still I suppose my nerves were a bit frayed as I found my normal supply of endless patience not as readily available. Seeking quiet away from troubling conversations of death and war among the Valiants and the Fists, away from pitying eyes or curios glances… Away from those who question my actions as an act of faith. Faith or no, I could not bear the thought of dear friends enduring such, not knowing I could endure perhaps better because of my experience in such things. Still I gave the answers I was able, and finally sought solitude. I picked daisies as the sun set. I wove them into wreaths punctuated by brilliant red poppies. I took the wreaths back to Baldur’s Gate. I placed one over the door of the Fist headquarters, one over the door of the temple of Torm, one I took to where Crownsilver’s body was and left it for him, one over the most prominent wanted poster for Beren and the last I carried wordlessly to the temple of Ilmater.

There I lit candles and incense. I lay the wreath on the alter along with what few coins I had left. I prayed long into the night. I prayed for the saints, I prayed for the martyrs, I prayed for Beren and his Valiant Shieldsmen, I prayed for Justin Crownsilver, I prayed for Miss Dredd… I prayed for Baldur’s Gate and all within her walls… This City grieves the region Wars, and right or wrong all within must choose a side or flee the politics, the conflict.

There beneath the gentle hand of Mercy I wept tears I had not cried in all my days. May this darkness pass… May Mercy guide the steps of those who walk treacherous roads… Mercy is forgiveness… Forgiveness is healing… May this land heal in time…
~~

[LeslieMS]

[TWENTY-SEVENTH ENTRY]

I walk through my life, and I am willing to extend the benefit of the doubt to all… I work ceaselessly to protect the flickering candle of hope in the darkest corners. I bear no ill to no man, no woman, no soul holds my wrath… My pain I burden no other with… and I failed.

Ilmater forgive me… This servant is weary… Lift from my heart this anger, this sadness as all around me I hear cries for vengeance… as blood wrought blood I weep. I weep for the loss of no one soul, but for those hearts so consumed by power and hate… My burden is no other… My duty the burden of others.

A smile is harder to produce these last days, and indeed, harder to maintain. I gather poppies and daisies and shoots of sturdy grass. White and red… Wreaths tied in Red silk… is the kind wish to ease pain and offer mercy where there is little enough? Is it lost in the tides of blood that flow from every corner and every direction?

I walk trying to offer solace to those who bear the burdens of grief. There are wreaths now all across Baldur’s Gate… I scatter them down the roads to Candlekeep… I leave them where I see signs of sufferance… By the mercies there may not be enough flowers in all of Faerûn. One last armful and I sit at the Merchant Camp and weave one last wreath. By the time it is finished it spans my arms and my hands cannot wrap the width of it. I carefully tie the bow and wait as the sun sets. Conversations fly around the campfire. Beren is slain, by Myhun’s own hand. I wonder if Death shall keep him, as he did Crownsilver? Myhun confirms Beren's by his own hand as the last rays of daylight touch the skyline. More vengeance wrought from death that brings new death by new vengeance… Where does it stop? How does the cycle break if no one is willing to depart from the cycle?

Doing my best to overlook the crude comments of some passer by on the niceness of my form. Crass but irrelevant. He moves on, his rudeness paid no mind. This last large wreath I toss gently over the bridge. The red silk touches the water, and in the moonlight looks at first as fresh blood, then takes a dark purple hue. It floats from view.

‘What’s that For?’ came the question of a passerby. My reply was simple and quiet.
‘For Baldur’s Gate’

The mysteries of affection are not mine… A stolen kiss sets me on edge. I look at those around me and my mind is filled with questions. There are things I must know… I know not who to trust save one…
I have no want for cruelties, but nor do I seek affections, nor romance, or anything of the sort in any fashion. I sought council from Esen, who thus far has proven the only one capable of a conversation without innuendo or flirtation. Refreshing when my heart is heavy with questions and unpleasantly.

However our conversation turned to a shouting match of sorts. The conversation somehow turned sour… and for the first time ever I lost my temper. I lashed out. I can naught but ask forgiveness. My torrent of harsh words gave him pause, but at least he understands what drives my frustration. Instead of finding answers, I found only more questions. Esen has pet, a lovely black cat with blue eyes, that was presented, perhaps to calm my mood. A trick that indeed worked. I had intended to leave the temple of Ilmater and seek out Myhun, who had asked me to accompany him to the keep. But as my mind returned to him, so did these questions that caused my worry and hesitation. I spent the night in the temple, in meditation and prayer… Willing to return, my composure and usual easy ability to present a cheerful countenance. I hope Myhun is not upset overmuch by my absence… I do not doubt he has plenty enough to be upset about. He grieves Captain Crownsilver… In respect to that grief, I will for now hold my questions. There is a time for such things, and grief is not something that should be interrupted by such weighted matters.

Dawn’s light is well passed as I write this passage, I make my way to the sanctuary of the temple, Prayers pass from my lips in quiet reverence. I lay one last wreath and the remaining few flowers that I could not weave onto the alter, and leave some coins. I make my way to the temple kitchen and prepare food for the hungry that will have want of it, and leave it with the sisters to be given to those in need of it.

I walk quietly the streets this day. A shadow passes over my path…foreboding and looming. I look to the source of it, and find myself in front of the Fist headquarters.

I cringe remembering my time within the walls… Ilmater grant me strength… such things cannot go overlooked. If I have to speak to the Duke himself… The torture cannot be allowed to continue. I hear others say how easy it is to avoid it by simply cooperating… I offered nothing but cooperation and wrought naught but blood in turn… The stories are true, and it seems the deed is done in passing at the whimsy of the guards and the jailor. Not all in the Fist are guilty of such… But I am one experienced in the art of torment… The Jailor’s hand is practiced in the art of torment… of that there is no doubt. It must be halted. I know not what course of action to take, and think it prudent not to act until I have more information. For now I continue on in my duty and I pray. Mercy guide my steps, aid me in the days to come. Let me not fail. Let my words not be careless or cause harm to another… Guide my hand, your hand at my back my lord Ilmater… Be with your humble servant…

[pressed carefully between the pages are three daisies and a poppy red as blood. The trio of daisies crowned by the poppy and tied in a small piece of red silk. ]
~~

[LeslieMS]

[TWENTY-EIGHTH ENTRY]
Journeying to Candlekeep long enough to tend the herbs at the Infirmary, I water the daisies leaving a large supply of bandages with Abigail.

‘I am sorry Abby dear. Will you be alright a few days without me?’

She laughed and regarded Merielle with her own patient smile. ‘Dear girl, I ran this place round the clock. Go do what you need to do.’

I smiled and turned away without another word, sprinkled water over the flower beds, set the watering can back by the door. I glanced up at the moon un-wanting of the need to travel at such a late hour. As I left the gates of Candlekeep at my back she moved quickly down the road as I prayed for protection on the road ahead…

I had never traveled the span of road between Candlekeep and Baldur’s Gate on my own, and I dreaded it. I could easily be overwhelmed by a number of ogres or gods forbid Drow… or whatever ne’er do well lurked in the shadows of the roads.

It is amazing how quickly threats can be gauged at a run. I wonder if this has much to do with the last conversation Esen and I had. Things are less surprising to me, though at times, still no less confusing. Gifts, prayers and boons aside, my steps did not slow until I could see the farmlands on the horizon.
I stopped in the merchant camp to catch my breath. To my surprise Myhun was there, in full Fist uniform… The only way I knew it was him was because he was speaking with Willam… The acolyte from the keep. To winded to pay much attention I silently prayed my thanks for the safe journey. By the time I had air enough to speak Myhun had departed. My questions would have to wait.

Still there were some answers I need not wait on and I made my way to the Blade and Stars Inn.
Fortunately my timing was good, and Esen was there with time to talk. I talked at length over a great many things that had been bothering me. I find often when my own mind cannot sort through thoughts easily, it is better to bounce them off of an open ear before trying to sort them.

He was able to answer a few nagging questions that held space in my mind.
As the less pleasant topics concluded, Elo became a welcome point of discussion. It seems that he and his lady friend have had kittens. I have been offered one. Esen said he noticed how it seemed to ease my mind, and the three of them are gifting me a kitten on Esen’s return from visiting family in Amn. How grand! A joy to take care of, and with nurturing a loyal friend. I am so fond of cats… the thought of one of my own is a great change from my sour thoughts of late. A kitten!
~~

I returned to the temple of Ilmater. The Sisters informed me that I had missed Colt, a shame. I really wanted to speak with him about some things he brought to my attention a few days ago. I am curious of his progress. I do hope he has the strength to make the commitment to bettering himself and sticking with it.
The state Miss Dredd was in when I left, I was surprised that she had departed. Sister Rachel said she left under her own strength. I was pleased she had recovered… but was I pleased she was recovered, or merely pleased that I was not faced with the task of pleasantries?

My emotions on the matter are conflicted… and there is a nagging voice in my mind that goes against everything my Faith has taught, or that I have taught others. Perhaps the lesson in this is the understanding of just how difficult some things are? May I be a dutiful student and learn well the lesson.
The events surrounding Miss Dredd’s death are a mystery to me, but events after that have left me with much to think about. I do believe the Gods test us… though I wonder now I measure up when my being holds within it two sides of the argument. Or is it perhaps that the conflict is part of the lesson, and I am not yet done?

So this day she lay at my feet in the temple of Ilmater. The power to recall the Fallen from Death’s grasp was beyond me, but had the power been mine, would I have withheld it? Here lay a woman who had likely ordered the ‘interrogation’ of many… Leave it lie that it was never her hand that drew cries of pain from my lips or even lips of another. She was responsible for much suffering. She showed no remorse, no regret over the pain she caused, be it justified in any eyes or damnable. Was it my duty to halt her by leaving her in death? Or was it my duty to show her the higher path? To show her mercy? If she is to answer for her wrong doings, who am I to be judge? At the same time, in my action of raising this woman allows more to suffer? I have failed my duty then. But, and just, If I grant her mercy… A second chance… She learns from this? Seeks to right the wrongs of her deeds? Who am I to deny her the chance to better herself?

Be it for greater or worse purpose, though I believe far from coincidence, present at the time was a Priest of Tyr, one Father Tenith. I have come to respect this man of the Just One. He saw her soul safely back from the grasp of Myrkul, but her body was greatly weakened. By the strength of The One Who Endures I was compelled to action finally. If ever my hand acted in the name of Mercy… I helped Sister Rachel get her situated. I informed the Sisters she was to be well tended. Turning quickly passed the large group that was now gathered in the temple. As I doubted myself, my judgment, my actions and my heart… I questioned more in that brief span of moments than I thought possible.

‘Test me Not! Your servant is not as strong as you give her credit for, test me not my Lord lest I fail you.’ My mind was screaming as I made my way to the door pushing passed onlookers.

Why? Of all the temples close to the city gates… of all the temples… Why to the House of Ilmater? And almost as quickly as the questioned was formed in my mind I had the answer:
The Gods test us…

I left, my mind and heart conflicted. For a moment I was angry. Why was my faith in question? Had I not always done my duty as I was asked? Had I not always worked to improve the wellbeing of many others? Had I not been reverent my patron? Had I grieved you so that you questioned me?
‘No, you do well, but you must learn my child…’

And as the answer danced through the core of my being. I felt wholly foolish. Had not my patron always served me? Who was I to question. Ilmater forgive me… I have failed…

Instead of receiving the answer I craved no words. Naught but the strong hand so often at my back… guiding my steps…

I discovered shortly after that my faithfulness was rewarded. Mine was the skill to recall the fallen.
I had not failed my lord. Instead I had learned that each choice must be carefully considered. But always mercy must guide that choice. Mercy sometimes must be taught, not given, prayed for, not always received, but must always be sought in our every action. Where another is not compelled to offer the chance to change for the better, I must be. I must be the Hand of Mercy in all I do.

Satisfied after walking the length and breadth of the city that my mind had at last come to terms with the week’s events… I was still to wound up to sleep. Once again I found myself at the Merchant Camp, beneath the moon and by firelight, some image fleeting in my mind that begs capture begins to take form on parchment. Seadin joined me and we discussed paints and types of drawings. It was a rather pleasant conversation.

Thresuin approached in a rather pensive manner. In most days I would likely be more accepting and much less suspicious, but the last few days have made me wary of people I would otherwise receive warmly. I grow tired of questions of pitying looks. It frustrates that the need and purpose of my actions are lost… worse still trying to be twisted into some sort of political frenzy over this business with the Valiant Shield and the Fist. A shame that everyone is so wrapped in the political throes and plots, schemes of vengeance, of retribution, revolution even I have heard the word used… so much squabbling and fighting, so much bloodshed when they ought to be looking to the source of their troubles and trying to find a resolution in the best interest of the people. It seems so many have forgotten that it is for the good of all that many of these offices were implemented. Now they are they but abused as positions of power? A long chat with Thresuin only added to my troubled thoughts. Still it confirmed many things I suspected, but had no backing for.
Troubled still but with much to look forward to, and many answers I made my way back toward Candlekeep. The return trip was not without incident, but fortunately I found myself in the company of those both capable and trustworthy, and the troublesome. There were Drow on the road that night. I am unclear if there was simply a misfire of spells or an attack… but regardless, I was glad to not be alone now, as I was on the trip into town.

I spent a pleasant evening amid laughter and good company. Julie, Adam and Tessian were a great boon to my spirits. Finally exhausted I made my way to the innkeep for a room.

What role shall all the parts and pieces at work here play in the future of this region I have come to think of as a future home? May Mercy guide my steps that the path I walk remain true to what I know by faith to be right. For the journey ahead is not yet clear… and no matter the destination, may I be ready to do the work I am called to.

Until the dawn and another day, I shall sleep…
~~

Took a trip to Beregost with Father Tenith... Though our goal was not met, I did learn a bit more abou the lay of the lands. I shall make my way back to Baldur's Gate soon...
~~

[LeslieMS]

[TWENTY-NINETH ENTRY]

Today was a day of joy and excitement for the most part. For a change the good out weighed the troubling. Once again the meager amount of sleep I was able to seek was interrupted by frightful nightmares. But as I sat sipping my tea and staring at the fire in my rented room I suddenly remembered Esen’s words when we last spoke. Though I cannot say if it was so much as suddenly remembered as a facet of the new skills he has gifted me. It takes a bit of getting used to, but I made my way to seek him out as the moon drifted overhead. A brief discussion on his trip to Amn, politics and what not, he soon presented me with something that has been a great boon to me throughout the darkest parts of the day and a joy that multiplied during the happy moments that passed. A kitten… Now I know I betrayed any composure I may well have possessed in that moment. But I could hardly keep from smiling such as a child receiving such a gift. She is a beautiful creature with fur the color of the purest, fluffiest clouds on a sunny day. Eyes blue enough to make the skies jealous… I offered her the name Cloud, which she seemed to readily accept.

She was quite shy at first, but warmed up to me rather quickly. She is a precious thing… though so very young and small still, she is quite curious, and very outspoken. Already I am learning to cue in to her different mews and cries. I fitted my pack with a well protected case of sorts so that she may travel with me securely and comfortably without feeling so much as a jolt even if I face battle.

Thankfully Esen went over the basics of caring for kittens, and later cats. I get the feeling that there is something he is not yet telling me about my dear little friend. Though given her heritage it is hardly a wonder. Another mystery that shall reveal itself with time.

She did not seem adverse to travel at all. She is also very friendly with others. She scampered about the temple as I prepared food and helped the Sisters with chores. They absolutely adore her, and Cloud seems to very much like all the attention. Cloud was equally taken with nurse Abigail on our visit to Candlekeep.

I wove new wreaths for the various places in the city. I must say that is entirely more interesting to do with a kitten batting at the flowers and running away with bits of ribbon and cord. Still one can hardly blame her… she is very playful. Already she shows fair interest in catching mice… though right now it is casual, curious and cautious observation and practice.

She finally settled for rest and I made my way through the city replacing the wreaths that had dried out, setting the dry ones down the river in my own symbolic ritual of healing and hope for Baldur’s Gate and its people. The last stop to deliver a wreath was the temple of Helm to lay flowers at the resting place of Crownsilver.

Much to the surprise and dismay of many, Crownsilver’s spirit is most restless. I tried to follow but my mind and heart were unsettled, and I quickly lost the fast moving group trying to keep pace with the ghost. I sought peace and guidance in the House of Ilmater. Perhaps sensing my unease, Cloud stayed in my lap… content to purr and offer quiet solace to my prayers.

Seeking a way to deal with the vengeful specter I was not expecting the voice of the divine that danced across my thoughts.

‘His spirit suffers.’

My prayers died on my lips and my mind and soul went quiet.

‘His spirit suffers and you are to find out why. I know you weary my child but this task falls to you.’

‘My lord Ilmater, I do not hold sway over the dead. I cannot speak with them, rebuke them, I can scarce even fight them. I am no priestess. I do not understand what I am to do?’

‘Seek as you always have my faithful child. Seek to ease his pain, and the path you must take shall become clear.’

I had barely formed the thought of doubt, maybe even an argument when the voice danced through my mind again:

‘Have I led you wrong? Have I left you abandoned with no means to complete the tasks set before you?’

‘No my lord…’

'Then go my child, and seek for He Who Endures shall be your strength. Your faith has taken you far, and you have accomplished much. Seek to end his suffering and his spirit will be at peace…’

The voice faded from my mind. I remembered back to my studies. Cloud still offering her silent comfort curled in close and purred, kneading my lap as if encouraging. In cases of deaths that lead to restless spirits, where these souls are unable to find peace, be brought back among the living Ilmater can grant his faithful the ability to commune with the spirit for the purpose of helping it seek rest.

The words of my god still in my ears I set forth from the temple of Ilmater to that of Helm quietly.

Never have I entered a temple more empty or silent than this one… I the only living soul, slowly and cautiously approached the place where Crownsilver lay. I feared at first that this spirit would be hostile… that in his state of unease I would be perceived as a threat. Still with the Hand of Mercy at my back I pressed forward. The air chilled as I lay a wreath by the body. Cold that knots the belly and freezes the mind… In naught but my faith I found strength, and as I whispered prayers my tumbling thoughts escaped my mind.

‘Be at peace child of the Crying God’ the voice was disembodied, but no mistaking it was the voice of the man who lay dead in the temple sanctum.

I spoke to him, trying to seek what brought him from rest, but as spirits seldom are anything but cryptic, the full meaning of his words were lost on me.

He spoke of the need for justice… That Helm would not allow him rest without it.

I spoke of the events that led to his fate, and through my meager knowledge of the events pieced together some of its meaning.

He referred to a ‘she-elf’ and called her misguided… spoke that she was to be forgiven. I can only assume that as there is only one Elven female that I know of who was directly involved in his death, that it was Miss Elrith that he spoke of. When I offered her name however, he neither confirmed nor denied that it was indeed she.

Still it was a place to start… I made up my mind to seek her out.

He then spoke of three who still evaded justice. Claimed that when he rose he administered justice to one of the five who slain him… I was saddened to think that he referred to a deadly penance exacted, though it is most surely what he seeks.

He referred to a Monk, a he-elf and one he called simply the Fallen. I can only assume through the course of our conversation that The Fallen is Beren Cross… whose fate is still unknown to me. Indeed he may already be dead… I know not what happened since Myhun reportedly killed him… still so much of these events are lost to me as I was clinging to life by prayer and will alone beneath the Fist headquarters.

I knew nothing of these other two he spoke of… so I sought out Elrith, but I did not find her. Fearing the rumors I had heard of her being wrongfully released I went back to Fist headquarters to enquire about her… either she was there or indeed released. I prayed for the latter.

I did discover while I was there that Father Tenith was imprisoned below, as well as Myhun… though the circumstances behind the two events are unknown to me.

I was granted time to ask my questions, though the answers of the guardsmen were just as cryptic as the ghost… the Guard I spoke with on the matter seemed to believe that this was not some joke about Crownsilver’s death by the end of our speaking… perhaps it was something I said, but rather then turn me away in ridicule as I expected he instead asked me to tell him when Crownsilver’s spirit appeared again, and to ask the ghost what justice he wished for his ‘murderers.’ I am loath to ask such, for I fear the answer… But I shall do my duty as it is charged me. As I was leaving Aleil was there seeking audience with the Duke. Had I not been utterly exhausted I might have stood wait with him. I hope he does not take offense from my actions …

I left, and returned to the Ilmatari temple. I saw to the preparation of the evening meal Cloud dancing around my feet gracefully as I worked. Each spare moment afforded me her affections, and I showered her with mine gladly. Finally at the urgings of Brother Marcus, I lay down to sleep, Cloud curled, purring, into the crook of my arm as I lay… My dreams were peaceful…
~~

Morning sought me out, and for the first time in far too long I woke well rested. I set about preparing the morning meal and then traveled to Candlekeep. I saw to things there taking up much of the day. I left a full supply of bandages with Abby and hung a newly finished drawing. The place is slowly turning from that of a funeral parlor, to that of a house of healing.

I made my way back toward Baldur’s gate and visited the temple of Helm… all was eerily quiet.

I again sought Elrith, but to no avail. And after seeing to the rest of my duties for the day, I made arrangements for The sisters to take care of the meals at the Ilmatari temple for time, but told them to seek me out should they have need of me. Again I visited the temple as the sun was falling fast beyond the horizon. All was still as I said prayers and replaced the dried, and strangely dead wreath of flowers with a fresh one. I hope the need for justice does not turn to the thirst for vengeance in this restless soul.

I came upon Lady Alarice, who was upset, and bid me travel with her to Beregost. Over the course of our travel I learned she was upset over some quarrel with Aleil about Crownsilver… I will likely speak to Aleil to further unravel her discomfort. The trip passed uneventful. Upon arriving most I was traveling with went on separate paths, save for one man by the name of Jensen.

We were then approached by Colt, and after a lengthy discussion, and story telling session, which involved a ‘finger-painting’ that was resembling of child’s work… I worry for his mind most days, but some days more-so. I pray for the patience and the strength to set him on the right path… and I shall likely need every bit of it to succeed. We then got into a lengthy, and rather frustrating conversation over murder… As I said… I shall likely need every bit of patience the Gods are willing to grant me… Ensuring Jensen safe from Colt’s antics, and that Colt would at least -try- to be an upstanding citizen of the realms… I still think, despite the odds that there is hope for this wayward child of the Multi-verse. I made my way to the inn to rest.

No sooner had I parted with Beregost to make my way back to Baldur’s Gate was I approached by a group of goblins to go to a birthday party for the chief… as ludicrous as it sounded, something urged me to go along…

So against better judgment I agreed to go along and cook for them. Thinking surely that if needed I could fight my way out of bad situation. It was soon apparent that would be a bad idea, I was sorely outnumbered… there were at least two dozen. So I cooked and prayed the solution would present itself. There was an Elven woman there that the Shaman called Lilly… I was assured that Lilly was crazy and dangerous. I knew better, and closer inspection, though tricky, revealed her an unfortunate captive. Forced to work in the kitchen for the foul beasts, and deaf, therefore unable to speak or hear, most miserable. By Grace, Fate, Mercy or work of the Gods… My time in Trademeet had made me most familiar with a form of communication involving hand gestures. It was used often with children unable to hear. Lilly and I were able to sneak communication while the goblins were blessedly ignorant or distracted by their own issues.

My mind resolved not to leave the place without her I worked quickly to devise a plan that would allow us to both leave unharmed, and hopefully without fighting a losing battle. Apparently the Hand of Mercy also guided my tongue for the words I needed came easy to me, and I was able to negotiate our freedom. Though the Goblins willingness to cooperate was greatly influenced by my ability to make goblin stew… a horrid concoction that comprised of a bat tooth, bear claw, three beetles and ale… brought to a boil and simmered until the meat is green… Why must I make note of this awful recipe? The condition of my release was that I prepare stew for them… and until I find a way to be rid of them it is likely a good Idea to plan on making at least one batch of stew for the tribe… maybe a few … and perhaps one day throw in some poison or something, so that the realms can be minus one tribe of goblins?

Still it ended well, and I no worse for wear… Lilly leaving to rejoin her husband and child. I turned and made my way to Baldur’s Gate as the sun was again setting. Fortunately the trip north was uneventful, and I arrived safely. I made my way one last time to the still queerly silent temple of Helm, adding fresh flowers, saying a few prayers and leaving without having heard from the uneasy ghost.

I made my way to the temple of Ilmater and again found peaceful rest, my new found friend, and perhaps dearest curled into a little white ball of fur beside me.

This morning I rise refreshed and look forward to what the day my hold. Now I must set about, there is much to do and not nearly enough time to do it all in. First I shall write a letter to Trademeet...
~~

[LeslieMS]

===============
[folded carefully in between the pages is a letter written in fluid script]

My dearest child Meri:

I am terribly sorry that your last few letters have gone unanswered. Before I address any other issue let me assure you that everyone is fine. The gods have gifted us, Iliara and I with a child. The bearing was difficult for my lovely Iliara, but I am pleased to tell you now that both mother and child are fine. We have a son, Tristan William we have named him. I hope you do not mind that we took inspiration from your surname dear child. I had not expected that we could have children, not since the babe Iliara carried all those years ago was born without breath. We were content to call you our child. But we are most blessed by this youngling. The span of years between Iliara and I is great, but there are still enough years left in me to see this boy to manhood. When duty permits please come visit us. We miss your gentle spirit and quiet smile within the walls of the temple.

Things here in Trademeet have been peaceful on the whole. An occasional raid by orcs and once or twice a lone Drow. The roads are plagued still by bandits. Days here in the temple are quiet, thank all that is merciful. We had a minor outbreak of disease carried by rats that came to our fair town by way of a Merchant Caravan from Athkatla. Not all news is pleasant however, High Priest Brother Michaels has passed. Ilmater spirited him away in his sleep. I was offered the position, but declined so that I may look after Iliara and Tristan. The position has instead fallen to Sister Agatha. She sends her best wishes to you my dearest child.

I cannot tell you how pleased I am to see your drawing skill improve. Fine landscapes outdone by only Nature itself! Do not shake your head at me… I know you are. Far too modest and humble my dear child. Your skill has improved and do not even try to argue such in your next letter. I will not hear it. Yes I have that ‘look’ that you dislike so much… that scowl that means I will hear nothing further. Still the drawings look most lovely hanging in Tristan’s room.

Iliara was so pleased to hear of your work in Candlekeep. I pray your dreams are favored and you may glimpse the tomes within the fortress. From the sounds of your letters, you sound most busy with your time divided between Candlekeep and Baldur’s Gate. It is a wonder where you find the time to write this scraggly old priest. Do not doubt yourself so much my child. You would not be given a task you could not complete. Though you must learn to say no now and again. Ours are the burdens of many, but even we who endure cannot bear every burden be it in faith or alone. This Colt sounds troublesome, but if there is any with the patience or the will to succeed where others deem failure, it is you.

I am most curious of the one you call Val. She sounds a most intriguing woman, and perhaps there is much that can be learned from her. Indeed the snippets of language that you have sent are alien to any I have sought. Nor can I find anything of record or mention of a land as far beyond as she indicates. I have even started asking the Caravans who pass through with mages, sages and the like in company. Still it sounds like you do well enough in teaching her common, and while not ideal it is better than nothing. Do continue to keep us posted on what you learn. Iliara is most curious of the story this woman holds.

It sounds as if you have made a great many friends, which pleases me greatly. I notice a few of these friends are of the male persuasion. Do not be upset with me my dear child. I only wish to see you happily settled some day before my eyes are to old to look upon your happy face. Stop rolling your eyes and chiding me I am nearly three decades your senior. I will wish to see my daughter happily married off if it so pleases me!

A great many friends… fortunately it seems any who would be your enemy, save the hells-spawned Drow, you have offered peace. It is good child. While some may not be so forgiving as you, it is good that you extend such mercy. Speaking of the Drow… put your fears to rest child. The brand is all but hidden in years of healing and beneath other scars… even if they were to glimpse your back. No doubt it would go overlooked. You will not be returned to them. Your freedom was bought with the blood of your captors. Any who would say otherwise and seek to drag you to the depths of the Underdark… Well may they be smited and taught the error of their assumption. I know, I should not speak so. My dearest child I would protect you from the foul, black-skinned devils with my own life if needs must.

Remember to tend to yourself my dearest child. You are a generous heart my dear, and Ilmater is no doubt glad to call you one of his fold. Remember each trial we face is to teach us how better to bear the pain and ease the suffering of others. No doubt in this old priests mind that you have secured a place within the hallowed sanctuary in death. I know what you are thinking… you do not act for your own glory or benefit. You never have, not even before you understood the teachings of the Crying God. Still I am pleased to think that one day these blessings you share with others shall return to you.

I am pleased to hear you continue to learn, and your ability to perform blessings and prayers in the name of the Broken One. You always had an easier time manipulating the divine energies than even the most skilled priests. The road to understanding can be a difficult one. The True path of Mercy is often fraught with danger and suffering. Would that I could bear these burdens for you… I am saddened to hear that you were put in a position of such pain, but my heart swells with pride that it was done for the right reasons. Scars fade and wounds heal… with careful tending and prayer even the sorrows of the mind can mend. Continue to do as you have my dearest child, keep your heart open, and your spirit willing. Ilmater indeed favors you with his presence and guiding voice. Listen always to the urgings of your soul my child. Do not stray from the path before you, and yours shall be a place on the mount of Martyrdom. Even the most faithful can feel overwhelmed. It is not failure to seek aid.

You may pass of the praises of this letter as the overjoyed pride of a father my dearest sweet child, but these words are as much Iliara’s as my own. You are so very dear to us in the few short years we have known you. Do not get so exasperated by the attentions of others. Your kindness and gentle nature will naturally attract others much the way the butterfly favors the rose.

I have much to attend to my dearest child. May Mercy guide you and keep you well within His grasp. I look forward to your next letter my child. And… just so you know… there is an empty wall space on the right of the door in Tristan’s room… roughly the size of a small canvas…
I am sending coins to purchase oil paints. Do not argue, I know what coins you have are few. I also know how much you like to paint. I wish to see you happy, and this is one way I may do so. Humor an old man’s request and purchase some. Paint me a lovely picture when duty permits.

A kitten you say? How wonderful my dear. I know how fond you are of animals, namely cats. What greater reward then to care for something and have it love you in return. Cloud you said her name was? Do bring her to visit when you can take a tenday and come see us. I am sure if she shares your genteel nature, she will be safe around Tristan’s young hands. Still, best to ask this Esen fellow his opinion first. If needs must we will keep her safely out of Tristan’s reach. No doubt you will have to fend Iliara off. You know how she is about cats… especially young ones.

Now truly I shall sign and seal this letter… I shall see it sent to you most quickly so that your worry may be eased. Be well my dearest child and know that these words hold in them, our love for you. All here in Trademeet, and especially the temple, miss you dearly child…

Brother Dracius Valleron of Ilmater

===============
~~

[LeslieMS]

[THIRTIETH ENTRY]

‘The gods test us friends… Pray we each measure up…’

I spent a pleasant day passing the time watching Cloud play and take keen curiosity in the folks who weaved in and out down the road and stopped at the merchant camp for whatever need fancied them. Cheery conversations passed back and forth and it was easy to enjoy the day with good company and lighthearted jokes that moved the laughter from one soul to another.

I sat as the sun fell quickly to the horizon and I smiled. A peaceful evening. I smiled as Julie played a song. Val joined us, looking rather well. My pack was heavy with sheets of words and pictures for dear Val, and another scroll case to store them all in neatly. I felt badly for neglecting my duty to her study of Common. So much that tears me away from the more pleasant duties of late. I could not help but smile as Julie’s lute carried on the evening. I handed Val the bundle, intent on going through them with her.

I watched as Aleil approached with an Elven man. The guards at the gate stirred restlessly, and I kept a weary eye on the proceedings. So this was the one who stood at Cross’s side. He was turning himself in. His weapons handed over, the man was bound and the somber procession made its way across the bridge.
Inevitably the smile returned to my face as music returned to us. Julie is a skilled Bardess. As the chatter and cheer of passersby added to the sounds of the evening I heard a voice that chilled my bones.

‘No Peace even in Death’

It was the now all too familiar voice of the Soul of Crownsilver. Those quiet words some how carried over all the noise, and I turned half expecting to see some grisly horrid scene behind me… Instead I was greeted with empty air. Cold gripped my heart and I knew that I had heard it… and as the knot grew in the pit of my stomach I knew…

I scarce heard the man offer me a drink, stating that I looked like I had taken quite a fright. I gathered my things carefully. I barely remember passing assurances to Val and Julie… I apologized for leaving and took off as fast as my legs would carry me.

‘Please my lord let me not be to late to save them both.’ A desperate prayer left my lips I knew if this ghost were to slay the Elven man his soul would be doomed to walk an angry path until it was ended. My charge was to see him to his rest… and if that could not be done… see him to his end.

The nagging doubts surfaced as I ran… I prayed for strength of will, I prayed for many things as I ran, chasing only a glimpse of the ghost as he made his way through the city. I hoped that he would make his way to the Temple…but as I lost sight of him, I knew he would not.

‘Blast! Ilmater grants strength not speed!’ came a frustrated exclamation. I ran as fast as my feet would carry me to the Fist headquarters. I arrived to be faced by a defiantly locked door, and felt my heart drop.

‘Let me not be too late, please.’

Then not long after arriving and barely catching my breath, the air around me turned to ice and darkness…
I spoke to the spirit, pleading.

‘This is not Justice… This is vengeance… Do not let what you stood for in life be for naught!’

The words rushed forth and I prayed. The spirit paused his face unseen in the darkness and he said nothing.

Hoping against all hope that my words did not fall on deaf ears, I watched dismayed as he passed right through the door. A shudder passed through me and I prayed for courage and for strength, I prayed for much in that short span. I tried the locked door again and frustrated I screamed at the sky. I shouted to the spirit within, I paced and I shouted, Ilmater forgive me I even yelled at the gods.

‘How am I to do my duty when faced with Locked doors!’

I paced silently praying in frustration. I thought to head to the temple of Helm…

‘WAIT.’

The thought danced through me… rippling along the shivers that went up and down my spine and I glared at the door in front of me. I waited… and soon Kristel and another arrived… they offered help, and in a far more snappy tone than I intended I told them there was nothing could be done unless they could unlock the door. Without much else to do we talked. It seemed hours I stood there, though it was likely minutes. All at once the door slammed open and I feared the worst. Surprisingly it was Aleil’s face that greeted me.

‘Hurry!’

He practically screamed as he grabbed me, and dragged me at a frightful pace down to the prison. I whispered prayers knowing that I would be faced with either an angry ghost or a dead elf… I prayed I had to strength to deal with both. Much to my relief or shock, perhaps both… the Elven man was wounded but not dead… and there stood the specter, still as the grave he denied.

I prayed for them all then… the Jailor who trembled in fear, Aleil whose expression can only be described as… defeated and perhaps angry, Lady Elrith looking frail and fearful, the Elven man, and even this spirit who was my charge to help… and possibly, if I could not stay his wrath, my foe.

I cannot tell you what words I spoke, only that I feared them failed. I reasoned and pleaded with this spirit, seeming to no avail. The spirit’s request to not remain so, trapped in unrest, echoed through my mind. I knew if he were to overrule Justice in favor of Vengeance, there would be no peace for him… and perhaps no peace for us all. I feared I had failed. My heart sank and my strength faded. Desperately I pleaded with the ghost to see reason… I was helpless to stop whatever was to come from this. Prevented from coming between the ghost and the elves should I need to by the very bars that I had not long ago been on the wrong side of. The irony was not lost on me.

‘Forgive me Ilmater, I have failed you… I have failed them all…’

Defeated and unsure what to say that might change what I feared to come, I kneeled and I prayed.

I stood and faced this spirit… My faith the only thing that sustained me. I watched as he raised his blade. I said nothing further as there was nothing else to be said. I heard Aleil pleading with the man to simply kneel and accept his death. Thoughts danced in a gloomy waltz through my mind. I took a deep breath and prayed I could handle whatever was about to happen, and that I had the strength to do as I must. I was unwilling to give up on this soul, to give up what I was told to do.

‘Help him find Rest…’

The voice of Ilmater wove through my thoughts as I watched the specter raise his blade over the weak elf. I heard Elrith’s desperate pleas, and for an instance I could not breathe. The pain and suffering, the desperation and anger, the fear… it choked at me… I felt numb. Much the way you feel just before death takes you from icy water…

As I thought surely I had failed my first task to help this soul find peace. No sooner had the grim thought passed did the blade halt its life-stealing path.

‘Forgiven’

A single word and it echoed through the whole of room… no doubt through the core of every soul present. I turned away from the bars, barely aware of the conversation between the elves and the spirit. I sought the jailor, my duty clear to me once again, my faith, shaken but in tact.
Finding him scared badly but unharmed I asked that I be allowed to offer aid to the injured man in the cell, he nodded and I headed back.

The cold chill of death passed through me as the spirit walked right through me, the second time this night, and passed into nothingness.

I tended to the man carefully. For now, my duty was to bring this wayward soul rest. But something he had said troubled me greatly:

‘He Who Watches has forsaken me!’

I promised myself I would not give up on this soul… Duty or no. For this whole unpleasant mess to be resolved this soul must find peace.

I followed Aleil out of the prison… up into the fresh air and waiting daylight.
We exchanged words.

‘You should take better care of yourself’

‘Me?’

He nodded to me. My assurances that I was fine were met with a doubtful look.

‘You give of yourself too freely’

I assured him that I was fine, and would be fine and he questioned what I would do if there was nothing left to give.

‘I will endure, it is my nature. I have my faith, and the smiles of those I am able to help. That is enough.’

‘You will need renewal from somewhere Lady. I hope you realize that.’

I made my way wordlessly to the temple of Helm and laid fresh flowers at the feet of Crownsilver. White roses…

I spoke, perhaps hoping my words would be heard, perhaps simply because I needed to hear them, I then turned and walked back into the temple proper, dropping some coins on the alter and praying. I nodded to the priest and headed out through the door, and through the city. I breathed a relieved sigh as I stepped into the temple of Ilmater.

‘Mercy is forgiveness…’

‘Ilmater forgive my doubt this day… May your hand guide me… May your mercy offer comfort in these dark days.’

Brother Marcus handed me a letter from Brother Dracius, and while it contained much joy and much good will, my mood was sour and the words struck a raw cord in my being.
I placed the letter between the pages of my journal and scoffed.
Aleil’s words reverberated off the words of the letter.

Why should I seek companionship? Where does it say I must love so? Is it not enough that I bear love and kindness to all I know? I am expected to burden the heart of another? Blast!

I do not seek a lover. Indeed! All this talk of me settling down. I have far too much work to do.
As the troubled thoughts continued through my mind, Cloud patted at my hand and the letter. I looked to her blue eyes and she purred snuggling up against my hand. I gently scratched behind her ears, my mood calming.

‘Ah my dear little friend… You are right. I do not need to fret so.’

I re-read the letter, and the joyous news found hold in my heart. I could not help but smile.
I finished my work and found myself exhausted, I sought sleep.
I have my faith, my dear friends, and the smiles of those I help… I will endure, I will not fail…
The morning shall bring with it new hopes, and new chances to better myself and the lives of others. My Faith is my Strength.
~~

[LeslieMS]

[THIRTY-FIRST ENTRY]

My visit to Candlekeep was quiet, and I found all well. I left a supply of bandages with Abigail, tended the plants and the flower beds. I hung a few drawings. I sought the merchant out, and was pleasantly surprised to find that he indeed had some paint and some brushes. I spent an hour choosing the drawings that I would add color too. I spent the remainder of the day painting.

After supper and before sunset, I packed up and made my way back to Baldur’s gate. The trip was quiet, and I entered the outskirts of the city as the moon was high in the sky. It was a sudden chill in the air that paused my steps. The sensation becoming far more familiar than I would like. As darkness closed my field of vision, my eyes caught the shadowy outline of the specter of Crownsilver. I followed the spirit silently into the city. I made my way to the temple of Ilmater, sure his quiet steps were carrying him to the temple of Helm. I dropped off my extra supplies Securing my pack and belongings beneath my bed. I dropped some coins on the alter, saying a prayer. I nodded to Brother Marcus and the Sisters, and gathered the bouquet of flowers Sister Juna had prepared and bundled with herbs that were thought to ease restless hearts.

As I entered the Temple, the fearful expression on the priest’s face told me that the ghost was indeed here. I entered quietly, and the spirit indeed chose to speak. It is clear that much weighs on his soul. In seeking to help him, I had to seek information. Perhaps the spirit despairs, perhaps he merely wished to test my will, and resolve to do as I am charged… but the conversation on his duty and why he felt forsaken led to him losing his temper. I stood fast, and my words were not lost on him… His rage turned from me and with a shriek unlike anything I had ever heard… Full of anguish and hopelessness… It wrenched my heart… my composure slipped as the sarcophagus was shorn into pieces, and my breath caught as the body spilled and tumbled against the stone floor. I stood silent. I know not how long I stood, prayers echoed through my mind accompanied by that cry… pierced by cracking stone.

I took a breath finally and looked upon the broken coffin and disheveled body. I turned and got the priest. With no other suitable resting place for his body, I picked away the stones and laid them in a ring about the body. The priest helped me move his body to a more restful pose. I laid the flowers upon his chest. As I turned to go Aleil walked in. He looked surprised, but listened as I told him of what the spirit spoke of.

The specter says he has failed his duty, though I do not know how… He had recited Helm’s Creed to me, saying that he had failed and been forsaken. I told no one that he had, in a fit of despair and rage asked me to destroy his earthly remains, condemning him to the existence of a wandering soul. I cannot do this as he asked. Ilmater bids me find him rest. I shall do so. He told me he did not wish to remain as a spirit once, I do not intend to abandon my charge by my god… I told him as such, and asked him to let me help, to give me more information. For now he is content with my aid…

Of the five who were present at his death, there was one he called a Devil-spawn, who has already paid penance. There was the Elven couple who he has pardoned… though what fate the laws of the city still hold for him I do not know, and this leaves two:

Beren Cross whose fate is unknown to me. I hear he has been captured, but I have heard nothing else, no rumors of his fate, his condition, or if he even still lives. I knew him as a good man… and I worry for him… Still my thoughts are mixed on this, as he committed murder, broke the law… My queries to discover more of the man whose restless soul is now my duty have gone largely unanswered and the answers I do get are in conflict depending on who I ask. The same can be said for Beren, however, and I pray that my actions are not construed has helping one side or the other. I am merely helping where I am able… could I help them both, I would. Without question. I pray that Mercy watches over Beren…

The one unknown to me nearly completely is this monk that Crownsilver speaks of. His answers are largely cryptic. He spoke that the monk ‘walks in shadow’ That ‘The Lady of Mysteries’ holds sway over him? I assume this refers to a goddess, but I do not know which one. I shall seek more information on this. He also described him as a leaf smoker? Or rather as Leafsmoker… I hear that the Elven couple have been freed, perhaps I will seek them out. Maybe the only justice required by this final one is similar to that of the male elf Elrindar? Perhaps if he is willing to face the spirit, and simply accept his actions, he too can be forgiven and thus no further blood need be shed?

Still I wonder what manner of justice should be Cross’ … It is his fate I dread. Can this whole matter be resolved without more bloodshed? Who am I to decide whose fate is more worthy? Cross’s death? Or Crownsilver’s Damnation?

He seeks justice. Can truest mercy prevail? Can the soul look into the eyes of his killer and forgive him? Dare I hope? Can Cross look into the eyes of a man he fell, for whatever end, and accept such?
The whole mess is naught but blood drawn for the sake of blood… Vengeance and retribution, anger, grief and pain choke the life out of the fair city… battle lines are drawn and on both sides are two men who were good, but faltered and made mistakes… and those who chose sides… now it seems both sides are without a leader… figurative of course, and on all sides there is loss and pain. It claws at my being… and I long to ease the pain of so many but do not know how.

Time will reveal the mystery of what is to come, and I can do no more than pray that the whole thing meets its best end.

After we discussed less pleasant matters Aleil walked with me a while, and we spoke of Brother Dracius and Lady Iliara, of my drawing… well any number of things were brought up over the course of the conversation. We then decided to head out.

Is it all those years of watching the few people I tried to get close to, suffer for the sake of hurting me that keeps me wary of trust? I look around at all these friends I have and all I can think is:
What if I get too close… what if they get hurt… what if it is my fault? I remember David. Our close friendship that grew through common bond of circumstance. Then the Matron found out, and I watched him tormented and screaming, die simply because -my- pain pleased her… I doubt any circumstance would be that dramatic. Still I cannot bear the thought that it could happen to any one of these I care for and call friend.

So many look at me in sadness these days… or ask questions. Can the past not stay behind me and out of sight? Or must I always look into mirrored eyes and see pity? I do not want pity… I did not act that I may seek sympathy for my own plight. I acted to spare others from that fate… so that others did not earn the same pity. I acted selfless, no doubt foolish, but in faith and good conscience, and continue to do so, and the purpose behind my actions is lost on all but Ilmater and a scarce few. I do not want gratitude or glory for my sacrifices, great or small, I want them to understand MERCY… in all its aspects. I want them to understand kindness and compassion…

Soon though my frustration passed as I got to spend a bit of time with Val. We studied language a bit, and she had drawn me a rather good map showing where she came from. It seems she comes from a place not yet discovered or widely recorded here on Faerûn, indeed she says that the lands she came to after her ship wreck are unknown to her people. If she could get a ship again and a crew… imagine the magnificent possibilities that would open up… So much to learn from another culture! It fascinates me.
We went for a bit of exercise that went well. I met many friends, new and old on our trip, and learned a great deal. Made a trip to Beregost before finally returning to Baldur’s Gate, tired, but it was a pleasant exhaustion. The satisfying kind that comes after a good day’s hard work. When I arrived at the temple to collect my things, there was a message for me…

It was a most urgent message from Lady Iliara… I must make my way to Trademeet immediately. Her details were few and that is most distressing. She said that Brother Dracius has fallen gravely ill, and thus far the healers have been unable to aid him. Brother Dracius is one of the few most skilled priests in Trademeet, Lady Iliara is a devout monk with no training in the divine. High Priestess Agatha is away on business. It is Iliara’s last hope that I may be able to help. I pray she is right. Either way I bought passage with my last few remaining coins with a merchant Caravan headed in that direction. I pray for a swift and easy journey, and that Brother Dracius will stay well enough for me to get there. Ilmater please do not take him… not yet, he has much to do, and now a son to see grow…

Seems one way or another, pending and pre-existing duties or not, I shall go visit Trademeet… though I wish it were in better circumstance, and at my leisure. The road is getting too rough to write… and there is not much else to say… I can only pray.
~~

[LeslieMS]

[THIRTY-SECOND ENTRY]

Well, upon completion of what had to be the longest, most tedious trip I have ever been on I arrived in Trademeet. The merchant’s kept to themselves… content to keep company of their gold and schemes to gain more gold faster. The guards also kept themselves. I had nothing but my troubled thoughts to keep me company. And troubled they were. Worry for dear Brother Dracius consumed my mind. As I arrived the hour was late and the whole town was a picture perfect façade. I loathed the whole picturesque scene in front of me.

It was almost irritating looking out over the lovely place, much the way I left it. As I approached the temple my thoughts were dark. Candles greeted my eyes at the alter. I prayed I was not too late. The halls were silent save for the faint chants of monks somewhere about. I made my way past many familiar faces, eyes bowed down sadly and I began to fear the worst. I soon arrived at the wing for tending the ill. The sisters scurried about, a din of quiet steps and murmured prayers seemed to roar to my ears, piercing my very mind. Will alone I did not scream. I felt the color drain from my face as my eyes fell on the crumpled form of a man.

How in contrast this withered soul was, to the shining beacon that I knew so well. Iliara sat in a chair close by, but not so close as to risk illness, rocking a swaddled bundle quietly. I smiled thinly to her as I approached the bed. His breath was weak and raspy, his fever high. His eyes fluttered in his fight for his very life.

Slowly, I reached for his hand, fearful that when I grasped it, I would find no life in those once warm, strong hands. A whispered prayer escaped me then, almost as a sigh, and I looked him over carefully. Gently I kissed his fingers and whispered against them.

‘I will not leave here without seeing you well my dearest father.’

Be it response or reflex I felt his grip tighten briefly, and in that moment fought tears of worry and fear. I looked to Iliara, exhausted and weary, she held in her arms the most perfect young baby I had ever laid eyes on. I smiled reassuringly to her, and was greeted by her own faint smile.

I ordered the sisters to keep a damp cloth on his head and a light damp sheet over him to quell the fever. I used every bit of knowledge I possessed, and every prayer I knew. I asked Iliara, what, if anything he had come in contact with. She seemed unknown of anything that might help. When I feared the culprit to his malady might go unchecked, and further worried since most illnesses I had treated could not be treated without the swallowing of some herbal remedy or another… My eyes fell upon a small bite at the calf of his leg.

Rats? My queries on such had indeed revealed that a few weeks before he fell so ill, he had found rats in the attic of their small cottage. It would seem one of the nasties had bitten him. Still, though the cause was revealed I felt my heart weigh down. I had cured many illness similar to such, caused by the bite of such vermin, but they had been awake, able to drink… and not nearly so old, but young and healthy to start with.
For lack of a better thing to do I sat at his bedside through the night and the day… not letting go of his hand, nor did the prayers halt, flowing from my heart as water tumbles over a cliff in a fall. I stubbornly held my vigil, despite urgings by the sisters for rest. Just when Iliara was about to make her normal irrefutable argument, and send me off for some rest… I was already working up an argument that I knew she would quickly shoot down. Such is her nature… Iliara has never failed to obtain that which she desires, be it of life, or others, even of herself, and no one has ever won an argument with her… Not once.

She laid Tristan down, and he didn’t even so much as flinch… stood and faced me with that determined look in her eyes. ‘You need to go r--’

‘Iliara… I will not--’

Neither of us had the chance to speak however because of the raspy whispered voice between us.
‘If you two lovely ladies are in no hurry to argue, could one of you grant me some water?’
We both looked stunned into the eyes of Brother Dracius, who somehow managed to smile. After a bit of chatter, and administering a tonic for the sickness as well as a bit of food to build his strength back up, he was resting comfortably.

Iliara, Tristan and I departed to let him sleep, his fever now nearly gone and his body already showing signs of improvement. Iliara swears that he would have been lost without my quick thinking for a damp sheet to halt the fever, and without my prayers for his health. I remained content in the knowledge that it was by Ilmater’s will, and Dracius’ most stubborn zest for life and all things in it. In all his years of service he had never become the melancholy sort that most fall into habit of. While others continue to sing my praises, I shall continue to praise our most merciful lord.

I stayed a couple of days extra, Dracius having returned to health, insisted I remain for a visit, citing that Ilmater would grant me leave of my duties for such devout and faithful services. I obliged, enjoying in the peace of the visit, and the young Tristan’s company. Iliara continued her overtures about the joys of motherhood, and how such would suit me, as well as her insistence at that I should settle down into a quiet family life.

‘There is much to be done, and while someday the thought of a family and a home appeals to me… I will not consider such until I feel it is time.’

With a rather matter of fact nod, I silently prayed she would not push the issue, and we watched Tristan coo and rock in his cradle happily. As much as I enjoyed the visit, duty beckoned my conscience, and pulled at my heart. After some tearful good byes, I sought passage back to Baldur’s Gate… I should arrive in the city in the morning… Ilmater forgive my extended absence of duty. There is much to be done, already the list of tasks hang over my thoughts.

We shall see what is to come in the next few days… For now Mercy guides us, and all is well…
~~

[LeslieMS]

[THIRTY-THIRD ENTRY]

I spent some pleasant time training with Adam. I learned a few tricks in dealing with goblins. I think its safe to say that I learned much from the outing. It consumed much of the day, Idle chatter as we sought our quarry, and a pleasant bit of exercise. At the end of the day we parted ways. I headed off to Candlekeep, and he to Beregost. I feel it was a rather productive day.
~~

This day started much as any other. I awoke and tended my prayers and meditations. As I watered plants and prepared the dried herbs for use in teas, remedies, and pouches for baths.

Cloud played happily. She gave dear Abby quite a bit of work as she tried to sweep the floors. Cloud insisted on attacking the broom, and had a grand time pouncing on piles of dirt. I managed to keep her distracted with a bit of red cord tied to the door handle.

Chores completed I headed back to Baldur’s Gate. The walk was peaceful and the weather pleasant for the time of year. I made my way into town. I laid a fresh wreath out at the temple of Helm. All was eerily quiet save the mourners present. I said a silent prayer and offered what comfort I could to the weeping souls.

I made my way to the Ilmatari temple, handing out smiles and kindness as I walked. I arrived, helped Addy and Juna with the midday meal. I then helped Rachel and restocked her supply of bandages and medicines. I spent a bit of time in quiet meditation in the temple sanctuary. I was largely alone, save for Brother Marcus’ kind, silent vigil. I left my offering and made my way to the edge of the city.

I smiled at the bustle of activity around the merchant camp. Julie was most upset, and on gentle encouraging, she revealed a bout of homesickness due to the fact that her birthday was upon her. Over the course of our conversation, a grand plan took form. An impromptu birthday party, I would make a cake and arrangements for drinks and a meal. I jokingly considered Goblin Birthday Stew, but my private joke was lost on the others.

Father Tenith required my attention before I got too far into my planning and schemes for happiness. He spoke of an impending attack of undead, and sought the aid of the Ilmatari.

I of course was glad to offer healing support, and he asked me to speak to the others of my faith, as he did not know them, and while it was likely they would not say no, he reasoned they could hardly say no to me.

As we spoke a thought crossed my mind… Others of my faith? When I left Trademeet, I left with the intent on easing the suffering of others in whatever capacity I was able. Brother Dracius told me not to seek a place in particular, but to let Mercy guide my steps, and lead me to where I was needed. It was those words that compelled me to stop in Baldur’s Gate. I sought out the Temple of Ilmater, became well acquainted with the Sisters there, and Brother Marcus.

After Father Tenith departed, and as Julie played a tune on her lute, I looked through my notes… my faces… If I had met one of my faith they were not known Ilmatari to me.

Brother Dracius’ words from my recent visit echoed through my mind.

‘Indeed? I was not aware there was a temple to the Crying God in the city dear child. Still no doubt perhaps that is why you were lead to Baldur’s Gate… To bring Mercy to a land without.’

Perhaps he was right. I knew many who paid respects to Helm, Torm, Tyr, Lathander, Mystra many who were devout of many a benevolent deity, but not one who I could call Sister or Brother… No patrons of the Saints, no knights of the orders, none who sought Mercy as intimately as one called to Ilmater’s fold.

Pushing aside the thoughts that troubled me, I asked Julie to accompany me into town. We made our way to the city. We came across Christan Cross, paralyzed by some sort of bite. He recounted an event involving a dead Drow female. As he searched the corpse he says he fears that he activated something, as he was promptly attacked by a skeleton, and as the undead fell, he was bitten. I treated the paralysis and the poison, hoping for the best. He has what looks like a spider bite on his neck. The bite itself despite my best efforts was turning black, as were the veins immediately around the bite. I could not identify the source of the malaise, but he agreed to come to the temple with me. Sister Rachel was skilled with bites and such, but even she could not identify the source of the problem, though it was definitely magical, likely arcane.

We tried leeches on the wound hoping to draw the toxin out, but to no avail. The leeches promptly shriveled and fell away. Christan insisted that despite the irritating sting of the bite he felt fine. I sought out Oawa, hoping she was skilled in toxins and magic. She examined the leeches. She says it seems like a necromantic spell, a type of vampiric spell, but different… perhaps a shadow variant, but could tell little else. Based on the details I had, she came to the conclusion that it was infact a priestess of the Spider Queen. That Christan was struck down for desecrating one of her favored. Still in all my dealings with the priestesses, and even there pets, rituals and poisons, not once did I see anything like this. I plan to seek out Esen, perhaps his knowledge of the weave would be helpful in identifying the hand at work here.

Doing all I could for him, Christan went to rest, and Julie professed a wish to head to the Tavern for a drink. I saw this as an opportunity, promising to meet her at the Elfsong, I made my way to the Ilmatari temple. I made a lovely honey cake, and some sugar frosting. I dyed some of the frosting with blackberry juice and made some musical notes on the cake. Satisfied with my work I headed to the Tavern.

By the time I made it there Val was present, and Julie had already consumed a fair bit of wine, and her spirits still in need of lifting. Others soon arrived to pass along birthday wishes for Julie, and her spirits started to lift.

Mice soon came in looking a bit upset, asking to speak with me. She showed me a ring, bearing the symbol of Ilmater. Now these rings are not rare relics, but they are only worn by High priests and Priestesses. I carried our conversation outside the tavern so as to not ruin the mood of the party. She explained that it was found in the Banite temple… and that they seemed to be guarding it. Mildly distressed by this, I listened. Mice fears that they will be targeting Ilmatari, which is nothing new to the faith we have had trouble with Bhaal and his ilk in the past, but Mice was especially worried for me. She referred to me as the Representative of my faith in the region. Again I was reminded that while I deserve no such title, I may well be the only one. She also worries because I am well known and well liked. It is her fear that the Banites wish me ill. I smiled encouragingly, promising to be careful and watchful. I intend to look into this further, but definitely not alone…

I returned indoors to find Julie and Emrys. I sought to cheer Julie, but doubt that would have been possible without Emrys’ lighthearted joviality. Laughter further ensued as there was dancing, and perhaps a bit too much wine. I only had one glass, but I do not know how much Julie had drank, and watched Emrys go through his wine at a frightful pace. Still as the night went on, a smile returned to Julie’s face. We were later joined by Mice again and there was more dancing, and of course cake. I laughed as she suggested that Julie eat the cake without her hands… Julie promptly picked up her fork and ate the cake with her ‘utensil’. Mice would not be discouraged however, and she and Emrys began a contest to see who could get through their slice of cake with naught but their faces.

Finally exhausted, I said my goodnights, passing out quick hugs. No doubt I shall have to wash the frosting from my cloak, but it was a grand night. The laughter was welcome music to my ears, and the joy of the evening was most welcome in place of my worries and troubled thoughts.

Tomorrow no doubt there will be hangovers, fortunately I had tucked some remedies in my pack before heading off to the tavern. Perhaps that brief moment when I worked for that blasted Innkeeper… foul beast he was, I did learn to deal with the after effects of too much wine… and I hope it will be enough to keep Julie, Emrys and Val in good spirits tomorrow. Mercy guide me…
~~

[LeslieMS]

[THIRTY-FOURTH ENTRY]

I was blessed with a three day period of calm. I took advantage of it, painting some, tending the flowerbeds at Candlekeep and a bit of training and exploration. However, as things go, the tranquility is fleeting.
The path I walk is a narrow and slippery slope… one wrong step and it is all for naught. May the hand of Mercy guide me, steady me, May He Who Endures be with me.

There was a young Elven girl a few days ago. A self professed pickpocket by necessity, she lifted a few coins from Jensen that morning. She had a brilliant ruse. Feigned a wound. Before I had time to speak after examining the wound, poor Jensen ran up to aid her. Another bit of wisdom I picked up from my days as a slave. I had seen similar tricks as I ran errands for the Thayan. As soon as the ‘wound’ is healed, the young maiden jumps into the arm of the rescuer, and the poor fools do not notice the missing coins until its too late. Still my eyes have never been so keen as to catch the nimble fingers at work. I can, however tell the difference between a wound in need of healing. Her theatrics would have passed had I not noticed the unusually large amount of blood but saw no visible wound.

After I advised Jensen to check his pockets, and the girl continued to offer up arguments and words to get out of the spot she was in. I think it was safe to say that there were no Orcs to the south. I had intended to see the coins returned and then give her a few, but a farmer approached seeking a healer, by the time I had returned the girl was gone. Jensen did tell me she had returned the coins. I made a note to reward her willingness to make right what she did.

The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly enough.
As the sun set, there was some strangeness with the campfire. The flames rose to an unimaginable height, burning wildly. Fearing some foulness afoot I attempted to invoke my blessings, only to feel them torn from me and drawn into the flames. Knowing that any magical energy divine, arcane, malignant or benign would be useless, I readied my bandages. No sooner had I taken a defensive stance, than the flames seemed to leap up… They moved as if alive, seeking to burn everyone present. The searing pain of the flames was immense as I moved about trying to keep others stitched up. It would have been easier to ask Ilmater for aid, or invoke blessings, but that was futile. I thought surely I would fall from my own wounds, no sooner had I finished treating the burns of the others, the attack seemed to halt. I used the time to quickly tend to my own burns… I stayed standing by mere force of will. Still the fire was put out, and whatever force at work was halted. Curious that…

Not long after that the young pickpocket returned. I asked her if all the coins were indeed returned. She was honest and while Jensen insisted they were, she proceeded to toss to him some more coins. I gave the girl enough gold for a room and food for the week. I told her if she had need of more to seek me out. If all else failed, I told her she was welcome in the Temple anytime she felt the need. I had hoped this charity would stave off further need to risk her life. After all, not everyone is so amiable about cutpurses. It seems however that my good intentions were lost to greed…

When I returned from the city I found the girl surrounded by a group, half of which it seemed she had slighted. I was attempting to talk down the tempers of those present, and convince the girl to return what she had taken, when Miss Dredd returned from the south. My heart sank. I knew this girl should face the consequences of her actions. Those who break the laws should pay recompense. No matter how I tried to rationalize the need for just punishment, I could not hold at bay my contempt for this particular woman of the law. I was wary of her, and still sought some way to end her idea of ‘punishment’. No matter who they are or what the crime… torture should not be abided. I tended her wounds praying that Ilmater would grant this foolish girl compassion… and watched as Dredd walked across the bridge with the girl cuffed in tow.
A scarce few minutes later I saw the girl running, hands bound behind her back to the south. I knew full well the scope of Dredd’s wrath… I knew full well… I set off after her, if only to convince her that it truly was in her best interests to cooperate.

I caught up with her, Aleil and Jensen already had her feet bound.
My entire being was in conflict. Do I let her escape punishment for her crimes, so that her path of lawlessness can continue? Doing so would spare her Miss Dredd’s heavy handed justice, but likely it would only delay the inevitable. I imagine the longer she would have evaded capture, the worse her punishment would be. Did I return her to custody of Miss Dredd, knowing she held only the slimmest chances of escaping harsher punishment than her crimes required? I have never been one to get on the wrong side of the law, and while my previous encounter with said law was on bogus charges, and for nothing more than to allow a conduit to the guard’s need for suffering, I was not about to give her cause to hold me rightfully.

Desperate prayers poured from my heart as I agreed to carry her to Fist Head Quarters. I was hoping in all honesty to hand her to another guard… perhaps avoid Miss Dredd entirely, even hoping perhaps to reason with her, if I had to purchase the girl’s wellbeing… anything. The number of desperate ideas that stumbled in my mind vied for space with the number of prayers as I carried the girl into the city… I prayed not to her demise… I prayed she had the sense to learn from this, to understand when I told her no matter what, to not further anger Dredd. I felt a knot of hopelessness tighten around my soul as I was greeted by an angered Dredd, waiting for us at the door…

I carried her down, already a course of action taking hold in my mind to speak with Dredd… Surely the girl’s safety could at the very least be purchased… As we left the jail it seemed the girl would cooperate, and Dredd seemingly would stay her hand… Still I prayed.

I think I paced in front of the Fist building for hours before I made my way to the edge of the city. I sought solace in drawing… something to ease my mind and my troubled thoughts… I felt a nagging guilt, but still remained hopeful and prayed. I was haunted by remarks Miss Dredd made… veiled promises and threats meant to unnerve me. I worked to not give her the satisfaction of such. How have I slighted her so? Well before the whole mess with Beren, there were several scuffles, fights, Drow and what not, and I had always been kind and made sure her wounds were well tended. I had even elicited a few whispered Thank yous… Always I discouraged law breaking, never was I rude or cruel to her. Then even after my more unpleasant time with her in the jail, I bore her no ill will… I only prayed that she would turn from her harsh and cruel ways. Even as she lay dead at my feet in the presence of Ilmater… I saw to her wellbeing. And yet she seeks to rile me with weighted words.

The passage of days were a blur. I scarce remember much. I know I tended my chores both in Baldur’s Gate and Candlekeep, helped those in need where I could and when I was able. I spent much of the time however absorbed in thoughts and prayers, my heart in debate with my mind, my conscience in conflict with my morals, I half heartedly listened to conversations, barely moved my hand across the sheet of parchment as I sought some peaceful refuge there on the page… but my mind could conjure no peaceful landscapes in which I could hide… what I had intended as a peaceful beach with gentle waves dancing along the shore, had turned into a raging storm that would have made Umberlee proud… but it was not even a modicum of my own inner storm.

I heard a familiar voice beside me as I drew… I didn’t look up from my drawing, but I smiled and told him the same as I told any other, That I was fine… The others talked and conversation carried on like it always does. Then I heard a familiar whisper, and was surprised to see that the voice of one was the same whisper of another, and I had long thought the two separate people.

I simply told him that there may be a need to speak with him in the future and went back to my drawing. I wasn’t wholly consumed in my work to hear a dark skinned woman, the same Banite that Jensen and I had encountered earlier… Perhaps it was my already agitated mind, but I could not hold my complacent smile, could not halt the contempt in my voice as she asked Julie to play a song of war and suffering… I was in a bad state of mind, and had to physically work to keep my uproarious emotions in control. I drew on every bit of will I possessed, I thought back to Iliara’s Monastic teachings, and drew from that…

I had scarcely drawn a calming breath when Miss Dredd approached. She asked for a healer, well more rather demanded, but despite the differences between she and I, my duty is to aid…

I rose to follow her, only to be further angst by the Banite. I fought my temper that was broiling beneath the surface of congeniality. There are a great deal of things in my life that would have brought many to contemptuous rage, to wraths akin to the most volatile of spirits, but I endured, I kept it in check, I even learned to let go of it… and my will has been tested in a near continual trial by fire of late… It has been wearing on me.

It was a simple statement about how I was Ilmatari, and would help any where I can that halted Dredd. She turned to the man who was sitting next to me… a man I now knew was not all he seemed. While I had my own suspicions I did not wish to see them confirmed by Dredd or her own actions. I sought to put distance between myself and the woman of Bane, I feared that I would say or act in a way that would have further ramifications later. I urged Miss Dredd to direct me to that which sent her to find me… as we crossed the bridge and headed into the city, her queries became directed at whether or not that which walks in shadow can remain hidden in the temple. At first I was confused by the turn of conversation. I found out as we entered the Ilmater Shrine why she was seeking ‘someplace safe to talk’

She questioned me of the man who sat next to me… said I may well have known him by another name… Seadin, that she indeed believed he the one who slew her. I laughed it off, telling her that surely Seadin was far too frivolous to be an assassin. Whether or not she took heed to what I said, I do not know, but she seemed content with my answers, though her questions were getting more specific. Not wishing to tell mistruths, or confirm Miss Dredd’s own suspicions I insisted that if there was a person in need I should see to it quickly. She agreed and we headed out, much to my own relief. However my heart skipped as she stated that we were bound for the jail. She -had- gotten my note to seek me out when the Elven girl was ready for release.

I did not speak the rest of the walk.
Any hope I had of finding the girl spared Dredd’s hospitality was quickly dashed as I looked through the bars. Badly beaten and covered in sewage water I could hardly keep my thoughts in order. Perhaps an attempt to provoke me, or perhaps because she enjoyed the suffering she caused, mayhap even both she kicked at the unconscious form. How I kept my anger under control I do not know… The hand of He Who Endures at my back, I treated her wounds enough to get her out of the cell, she was barely able to walk, and my hands shook in anger as I tended her wounds. Open wounds covered in sewage broken limbs… She seemed to fare barely better than I. I grew angry with myself as I worked. I brought her to this… Never again… I will die before I let another be subjected to this! I sat her down allowing her to gain a bit of strength back. Dredd struck her then, and by Mercy I have never wanted to harm another human being in as long as I can remember… I carried the girl then. A prayer on my lips, I left hoping that words spoken as I was there will not come back to haunt me. I think I said more than I should. I all but threatened her, and even then I am sure she could put to words the thoughts in my mind.

I quickly made my way to the temple… I handed her to the sisters, my anger evident, further brought to light as I spoke. I do not remember being followed… but I was, and it was useful to have an impartial voice. Kind words to ease my mind, my guilt perhaps, but there is logic to them… I have done all I am able, and I can only do what I am capable of. I cannot be responsible for every action of others. I may give them the chance, show them the path, give them the means even, but I cannot walk the path for them… The steps they take are theirs alone…

Wise words, and I know not what will come, but I can venture a guess. Some things are best left to implication and unspoken. There is wisdom in those words, and while the paths we walk are different, we seek the same destination…

I have my path… A narrow and slippery slope… May the strength of the Crying God be mine lest I fall. May the hand of Mercy be steady at my back… and guide my steps…
~~

[LeslieMS]

[THIRTY-FIFTH ENTRY]

I find my mind filled with questions… Everywhere I look there is naught but shifting shadows and whispered voices, threats veiled and plainly spoken, and I will not waver… By Mercy I shall stand.

I struggle against such things as anger, vengeance, hatred, prejudices. By the Mercies if I could but save them all from themselves.

It seems my own shadow is not the only one which trails my steps… and to what end I do not yet understand. It is yet another mystery that must be allowed to unravel itself.

I made a return visit to Candlekeep, to deliver supplies and tend to things at the infirmary. I also checked on Val’s progress… I have a copy of the sage’s notes. It was a hefty chunk of gold, to procure a more skilled teacher for Val, but I think well worth it. This woman is brought here by whatever winds of Fate indeed blow… She should not be handicapped by a lack of communication. There are enough difficulties surviving as it is. Still I am pleased to say that her mystery further unravels, and her grasp of Common is improved dramatically by such. Well worth every piece of gold.

After my duties at Candlekeep concluded I made my way back to Baldur’s Gate. I hunted up the small, grey leather book given to all the Monks of the Yellow Rose that Iliara had given me when I first arrived in Trademeet. That was several months before my attenuation with the divine was made apparent. I think for a time, I shall resume my monastic studies. I need to gain a stronger foothold in my own mind, and further align my mind, body, and spirit if I am to face whatever dark storm I see looming on the horizon. I know not what comes, but I intend to be ready. My faith is my strength, and I will not fail He Who Endures. Already my understanding of many things has improved, and with practice, I think I shall be able to tend the wounded without bleeding all over them.

I set out with a group as afternoon neared and we made our way south to Beregost. As we passed the looming shadow of the Bhaal Temple we came across Father Tenith and another Tyrran whose name that for the life of me I cannot remember, and they were tending a man who was drawn back from death… but wholly disoriented. I opted to stay behind in case the man required further attention. As the others departed, I could not help the thought that danced through my mind then:

Did the shadow of the temple darken?

I had no time to contemplate such thing though before we were set by a large group of Bhaal Cultists. The battle ensued and soon there was naught but gnolls. We made our way inside the structure, the whole time my mind screaming caution at me… I uttered prayers for strength and safety… and stepped into the maelstrom of the battle being waged within.

No sooner had the battle ended then my eyes fell on a sight that turned my blood to ice and my stomach a knot within me. I looked on the badly mutilated corpse of a young woman, robes of gray and the symbol of Ilmater round her neck. She had endured much before death claimed her. She was young… younger than I no doubt. I heard a prayer leave my lips for her soul… What foul torments had she endured at the hand of the Bhaal defilers? I dared not ask. Father Tenith’s words reached my mind finally… I was unsure where all the noise was coming from… This din and roar like rushing water… screams… perhaps echoes of the young girl before me and I sank to my knees. Father Tenith wished to try to draw her back from death, but as my hand reached out to the young girl’s face I knew she already rested safely on Martyrdom.

‘Friends… Please… She has served… Let her Rest.’

My words were choked. I knew her not, and yet her place could have easily been my own. As I touched her cheek the body crumbled to dust, and there beneath my hand was a ring. It radiated Mercy, gentle kindness of the Crying God, and as my heart wept the loss of this dear Sister, the Hand of Mercy at my back offered me comfort. Almost cautiously I regarded the ring, fearing some sort of foul trick. But as I stood holding the ring in my scarred hand, there was no mistaking the gentle comfort of my lord…

As we left the temple ruin after tending the wounded and the dying, all walked out under their own power. I resolved to find out why Ilmatari were being tormented by those of the Lord of Murder. If I had to tear down that accursed place brick by brick with my bare hands… I vowed to stop it. I worked to calm my emotions, and as I brought to the forefront of my mind, an image of the field of daises that so often brought me peace, I heard a voice dance through my thoughts as a comforting warmth took hold:

“Take care my Favored, you will be needed in the days to come…”

With the Hand of Mercy at my back I made my way from that place, a faint smile on my lips… I cannot say what conversations carried me back to the city, indeed it was some time later I found myself at the edge of Baldur’s Gate. I sat down and searched frantically for the small gray book. Meanwhile I vaguely remember speaking to Colt… Julie… and a few others. I found the book finally, and made my way into the city. I spent much time in prayer… When my strength was renewed, I made my way south to Beregost, finally ready to complete the errand that I had started out on the day before.

I made Beregost as night fell, and decided to get a room for the night. I took care of my business there and now… Finally… I shall sleep.

Mercy guide my steps…
~~

[LeslieMS]

//
holy WOW...

Still working on last night's journal entry darlings. I just want to say how awesome everyone was yesterday. I was so into it I was yelling at the computer a few times. Got several odd looks from the husband and the kids. Further more, while my husband isn't an RPer [trust me I am trying] He does like to listen to me tell the stories. Especially lately...

I have never had the pleasure of RPing with such talented players and DM's you guys totally rule!

Nearly done with the journal entry so check back soon.

Meri is getting a long night's sleep... wow!

Epic does not even cover the scope of yesterday... if Epic has an Epic level it was almost there yesterday!
//

[LeslieMS]

[THIRTY-SIXTH ENTRY]

The trip back from Beregost was easy enough. And the day went rather well. As evening drew near I made my way to the temple to tend to things. There was a pair of women eating stew quietly. I chatted with the sisters, said my prayers in the sanctuary as the women ate and whispered among themselves. I tended my chores there in the sanctuary busily. I thought little of the pair at the time. Never have I been given reason to immediately think the worst of people, never had I to worry of who might come through the temple door…

The way she looked at me as she left chilled my blood, and foolishly I waved it off as the stress of the last few days wearing on my mind and my senses.

I spoke with dear Sister Addy. The woman’s heart is unmatched, and so far away from the mothering of Lady Iliara, she is a welcome soul. Sister Juna’s quiet kindness is as calming as Sister Rachel’s hands are comforting to the ill and wounded. Then of course there is Brother Marcus, wise in his years, and kind beyond measure. These my only fellows in a time where Mercy is but a fragile candle flickering in the shadows and chill winds. I have many friends, many who are dear to me, that I would surrender my life’s breath for without question… But none who understand The Hand at My Back, none who pay heed to that patient, gentle voice of my Sovereign.

All my life, the servant, willing or unwilling, knowing or without understanding. And in my years since my freedom was bought with blood of Drow, I have come to appreciate the simple things. A smile from a stranger, a silent thank you, a soft breeze in the morning, a quiet walk with naught but moon and stars to keep me company. Never have I walked in fear since leaving the Underdark, never in so many years have I questioned every shifting shadow… And never have I feared that my faith, would be cause for me to worry over my safety.

As I stepped out into the night looking forward to a quiet walk through the city, I smiled to the starry sky, taking a breath of the crisp air. No sooner had I closed the door behind me when the pair of women came forth blades drawn. Caught unaware and unprepared they perhaps could have bested me then. He Who Endures watches over me these days, and a passing guardsmen on patrol came to my aid. I stood stunned a moment looking over the women who now lay at my feet. Though blood-soaked and tattered it was clear under moonlight, that which I did not see as they sat in the temple.

The robes of the Bhaal Cultists. The guard seemed strangely apologetic, as if it were some how his fault. Unnerved, but wholly in one piece, the guard advised me not to travel alone, and I set off quickly to the edge of the City. No longer did I contemplate the beauty of the starlight… Instead I eyed every shifting Shadow with distrust. I did not stop to idly chat with strangers, I wished to reach the comfort of the large numbers that usually gathered at the merchant camp. Was this whole thing more serious than I thought? There was so much I did not understand.

As I crossed the bridge I could not help the grateful prayer that fell from the core of my being. There were many out this night, and a great deal of familiar faces. If I had known then what trouble my presence would cause I may well have stayed in the temple and waited for the masses to find me, and me alone… But I did not know, and did not wait… I could not have foreseen the chaos that was to ensue.

I approached, wishing to put the attack behind me, have a seat and draw, chatting idly and unworriedly to those present. To enjoy the peaceful morning. My smile was met with Aleil somber gaze. I asked him what was wrong and slowly, with measured words he spoke. I wonder if he gauged my reaction as he spoke. It seems of late many measure my reactions, and I have had to be much more guarded of my thoughts, still I think Aleil seeks to gauge my wellbeing. It is his well intended friendship that leads me to drinking poppy laden tea for a headache I now hold.

He spoke of going to the Bhaal temple that night, and of some malignant shadow speaking to him. He was to deliver to me a message… ‘All Ilmatari must leave.’

I stood firm, unwilling to be wavered by such threats. As if cued by my defiance an attack followed. The battle was chaotic, and as I screamed for the others to retreat, I watched as they fell to dark magic and deadly blows. I could hear the more battle wary warriors urging the others away.

‘Back to the city’ I said … ‘please get back to the city!’

But my words were lost on the dead and dying… I moved about… cloyed by shadows and choked by darkness I worked, getting the others to their feet urging them to retreat. It was my blood wanted, and I could not bear that these, innocent, blindly foolish, friend, strangers, that these were falling because of my presence. Duty bid me save them, if it took my last breath.

‘Cowards! Hiding behind your dark magic!’ I screamed at them… hoping to draw them to me and away from the others. Over the sound of battle, clashing of blades and armor, the spells and prayers uttered forth, battle cries and screams of pain, I heard two voices above my own desperate cries for the others to move north…

‘Leave me if you must but get to the city!’

‘Lady Merielle you must leave them!’ came Aleil who was suddenly beside me in the unnatural darkness. ‘We have to get out of here.’

‘I will not leave them here to die!’ I brushed him off and worked, my hands soaked in blood, my face damp with tears as desperate prayers fell forth, to draw them from death or even the brink of it. Aleil’s protests were drown out by a voice that echoed through my mind.

The words were like ice and fire… chilling to the bone and boiling my blood:

‘So long as you stay, more will Die.’

This threat… this voice of darkness laughed cruelly.

Mercy guiding me, the reply came without hesitation…

‘I will not waver. I will not allow you the victory of my departure from these lands’

As soon as my mind formed the thought, the darkness receded, leaving in its wake bloody death and battle worn faces. I continued to urge the others to seek safety as I worked to mend those who were broken. I could hear the others insisting I leave. I could not, not while my duty bid me stay and tend the dead and dying.

As another wave of attackers approached Aleil’s frustration peaked to anger. As I tended the wounded I heard him speak.

‘I will drag you off if I must!’

My reply was patient. ‘I will not leave them to die.’

‘I will knock you out if I must!’

I shook my head and began to stitch the wounded man at my feet. I had no sooner closed the wound than I heard his frustrated cry behind me, then darkness.

When I regained consciousness I was flung over his back. I could hear the din of battle before I opened my eyes. Fearing the worst I looked up, even dizzy from the blow to the head I looked up to the south. My heart sank when I saw the few I did.

‘Where are the others?’ My voice was weak, and the blood in my head roared through my ears… I thought surely I would pass out, but a frustrated burst of anger lent me strength as I saw it was Aleil carrying me away from those in need.

‘Blast you! Put me down this instance! I will not leave them!’

In a furry I did not know I possessed, I kicked and fought free his grasp. Weary I stood, be it the Hand at my Back or sheer anger I faced the angry Elven man. Well intended though his actions were for whatever reason, they had drawn me from my duty, when I was most sorely needed, and as I heard the sound of battle die down behind me my despair bloomed into anger.

‘Damn you Aleil you fool! It is my duty! My oath!’ I turned to go only to hear him threaten to knock me back out.

‘What would you have me do? Let the Bhaalists have the satisfaction of seeing me turn and run? Have me abandon my oath, my duty, my friends?’

More curses and sharp words poured forth between us his fury surprising, and alarming. He cannot understand a faith which is not his, my mind reasoned and rationalized his emotions. He is only doing what he feels is best for everyone. Still it did not mean that I could leave my duty unfinished. I turned, and my heart dropped as I saw those still able to stand, bleeding and badly wounded, laying the dead at my feet. In frustration I knelt and nearly wept. I blamed myself, after all Ilmater was not a strong presence in these lands, and none of these would be hurt or dead if they had not been trying to protect me. My resolve weakened I muttered as I tended the wounded and dying. ‘Let them have me then.’ The bitter thought came unwarranted and danced through my mind. ‘If only to protect them then Let me go…’

I prayed over the dead trembling and weak, still fearing I might yet fall to the harsh blow to the head.

‘Mercy be with me… Grant your servant strength that she may not fail you…’

I could hear the others chiding Aleil for knocking me out. I could hear Aleil chiding me for not running when it was prudent. I could hear the questions, the confusions of those drawn back from the Death God’s Gate, I could hear questions, and I could feel myself crumbling from within.

‘Please… I cannot… my mind is addled… I need to sit and rest…’

Aleil guided me to a seat and slowly the roar in my ears became deafening… I could not focus… I could not even tell if my eyes were open.

A gentle warmth washed over me, a comforting blanket of warmth as the pain was soothed away, I felt the very arms of Mercy itself enfold around me. Gentle words of comfort and praise came to me from Ilmater himself. The Hand of Mercy at my back again, I felt my strength return. I felt my spirit and my body heal itself. I felt calm and renewed. I looked up into the faces of friends and strangers alike. Instinctively I sought the young Elven girl who was still weak from being drawn from death. My heart went out to this girl… I did not even know her, scarce old enough to be put through such… and here she was at her wits end, and I felt at fault.

I was hardly aware of much, wishing to hang on to the peace of the moment, I could not help but be aggravated by Aleil’s words. I stood calmly and walked to where he stood. I spoke in an even tone and calmly. ‘What would you have me do… Abandon my Faith?’

I did not wait for a response and started across the bridge shaking my head sadly as I walked.

Again the voice of Ilmater washed over my very soul.

‘I know your faith is strong my child. Do not sway from your tasks.’

I smiled as I walked, and was barely aware of the footsteps behind me.

‘Where are you going?’

I stopped and calmly regarded Jensen.

‘To the temple.’

‘Why?’

‘Why not?’ I countered calmly. I was aware that Tiberius had approached as well. ‘I am wary. I have need of guidance and renewal, so I shall go to the temple to pray and rest.’

They both quickly offered to come along, joking about meaning to try my cooking. An armed escort… such things reserved for nobles, and merchants, not humble healers. Aleil had spoke of me as a precious gem… I told him that as precious as I am to all of them, they were each more precious to me, and beyond creed or duty, I cared for them each as dear friends. I prayed with every fiber of my being that for that they were not punished. Mercy guide them… Gods protect them.

A moment’s hesitation as I surveyed the shadows cast by moonlight around the temple, and then I was inside. My mind and my heart glad to undertake the duty of tending temple chores, I introduced the two men to the sisters. I set about preparing food, Sister Addy helped with bread, and dear Juna went to aid sister Rachel. We each smiled to one another, this common bond of duty, this sister-ship, each drawing support from the others and from our faith.

‘Faith is strength… Draw from your faith, from your convictions, and you shall ever be a font of Mercy, an able body to see your tasks ended.’

I found myself thinking over every choice that had ever lead me to the path I was now on… Divine intention… This was my task, and I would not waver, I would not sway, I could not fail…

My thoughts were punctured by idle chatter, until the cheerful squeals of little Dianne shattered all unhappy thoughts and musings. The young scrap of a girl I had found walking one night. Dirty, hungry and half froze I brought the girl back to the temple. I told her she could stay as long as she wished and in exchange I asked her to help the Sisters. Not more than eight, she is a pleasant child, and loves helping Addy in the kitchen. She had had a terrible nightmare… I assured her but could not halt the worries in my own mind. She ate a good meal and was soon back to sleep tucked in safe and sound.

This dream she described sounded like some nightmare vision of the shadows I had seen in the Bhaal temple… the malevolence of the dream was not lost on me, nor was the frightening similarities to my own real life nightmares. The visage of that poor priestess continued to haunt my mind. So easily that could have been me… but for whatever reason it was not. I absently twirled the ring on my finger, once again calmed by the gentle warmth the ring radiated. I watched the girl drift off to sleep and helped the others clean up. I had meant to speak with Brother Marcus, but the last two days quickly caught up with me, and I sought rest.

When I awoke, the others were still sleeping… I finished my chores, and made my way out.

I sought out Julie, and perhaps Joan… I needed to tell her I would not be traveling to Candlekeep for a while, circumstances as they were, I was no fool. I would not travel the open roads away from the city, least of all South, without being in able company, even then in the most dire of reasons alone. It was less fear for my own wellbeing so much as fear for those I care about. Intent on enjoying the quiet of the campfire I joked and chatted.

There was some large water creature that approached with a sword likely not even wielded by the largest of giants. He spoke of a tournament of sorts, and seeking to challenge any warriors present to a duel. The shadow challenged the creature and lost badly. Hesitantly, fearing the large beast would crush me beneath it, I approached, drawing him back from death and to his feet. I feared for a moment that the stress of so much had weakened my ability to channel the divine, and a moment too long I feared him lost. My worry proved for naught, and soon breath returned to him. Once things calmed down, Julie asked me to accompany her to the Blade and Stars, as she had a meeting, she was being commissioned for a noble.

She spoke with her contact and I enjoyed a cup of hot tea by the fire. The evening was blessedly quiet, that is until a voice scared me half to death. I was staring idly into the fire, contemplating the last tenday or so enjoying Julie’s audition when he asked in quiet whisper:

‘So you care to tell me why you aren’t traveling right now?’

After I nearly spilled the last of my tea and scolded him about sneaking up on me he simply replied, ‘You should be used to it by now.’

Indeed, he has a habit of popping out of whatever corner he was hiding in when my mind is most troubled. We talked a long while on many things. He a silent counter to my rampaging thoughts. Still an unbiased perspective is always useful. I feel if only marginally better that of all the shifting shadows that follow in the steps of my own, at least one of them does not readily mean me harm.

He is hard to read, partly because he is little more than eyes and a whisper, and while I cannot judge his motives or intent, for now he is an ally, and I hope he remains so, he and his ilk. I have enough shades and shadows that claw and cloy at my soul without worrying over the ones who carry sharpened blades and mysterious happenstance. We talked a great long while, over many things, and finally he bid me good evening and walked into shifting light and dark, until he faded leaving me to shake my head and wonder what truth there was to his words.

I made my way to the temple at a near run and felt safe once I closed the door behind me. It opened a few moments later and a young child, of skin and bone, perhaps seven years of age walked in. He sought a warm meal and a soft bed, which I gladly offered. He had no family and came from down on the docks, rather proud that he had his own crate. As he ate his meal, I could not help but wonder just how many children were left out in the cold, and I think my heart broke just the tiniest bit. Still I was comforted by the fact that I could help this one. I presented him to Brother Marcus, telling the boy, William, who goes by Billy, would help keep the sanctuary clean. I then took the child off to bed.

I had no sooner gotten the children to sleep and tip toed through the temple so as not to disturb them or the sisters, when Aleil came in. We spent the rest of the night in debate over dogmas and principle. I was growing frustrated and wary of so many days of work and toil without proper rest. Even when I have slept, of late I am lost to a torrent of troubled dreams. My moment of weakness granted me a reprieve from his friendly council on my actions. Strangely enough it also granted me more kindness than I have ever known in all my days. I had scarce time to ponder such things as we were interrupted by the inns seemingly regular haunts. Aleil seemed worried how I would be taking such things, but in all honesty the days wore on me so, that I took welcome comfort in the laughter that the mischievous spirits brought with them.

Still deciding best not to chance fate he walked me back to the temple as the sun settled into the bed on the horizon… I tended things quickly and sought rest… Cloud curled next to me as I slept purring softly, sleep found me and I rested so soundly that Divine intervention could not have stirred me from my dreams, which were far less troubled.

I dreamt of flowing fields of flowers, the kind words of Ilmater music to the breezes the flowers danced in, and there I sat in this dream field reverent beneath the light of the heavens. I woke knowing that I was indeed on the right path, and that I would not be alone in such… Hand of Mercy at my back lend me your strength, guide my steps that your servant my carry out your work… As He Who Endures, so shall I…
~~