Stones and Bones

I'm not a fan of interrogation, and I hate having to act. If it wasn't for that Charm Person spell, the assassin wouldn't have told me anything; I kept cringing at my stumbling attempts to elicit information. I much preferred the "hang back and Detect Thoughts" method, although admittedly it didn't work any better. At least we found out about the mysterious Nothrog and the captured Dwarf.

If only that had been the extent of the evenings revelations...

When we returned to Sir Eric and Commander Edwin with our findings, we were greeted by Duchess Cassandra (and her bodyguard mage and advisor, Maximilian). It turns out that the events in Ghostwood were only one part of a horrific and unprecedented coordinated attack on many of the leaders of the Accordlands. The Assassin's Strike has changed everything, and to what end I can only guess. We've lost a King, we've lost the fragile peace, and who knows what else we've lost (at least the Spire was untouched, at least as far as Gaston is letting on). Even the foulDeveranians were hit. I can't see the big picture anymore, I have to concentrate simply on the path at my feet.

The higher-ups want us to follow up on the assassins' previous Dwarf-napping mission, and so they sent us off to track the assassins backwards through the forest. The Duchess gave me another stone... although they weigh hardly anything, the two stones in my pocket are a constant reminder of my links (my leashes?) to my respective arcane and political Masters. Well, at least I have something to do -- this quest, fool's errand or no, is better than hanging around at the Spire trying to pretend that it's business as usual, waiting for the barrier to fall or some new horror to find it's way in. For now Gaston and the Duchess want the same thing, information on the captured Dwarf and theNothrog who gave the order, and I am their faithful servant.

We've been fortunate so far to mostly avoid the attention of powers beyond our meager abilities. I wouldn't have expected to crossMyreth forest alive, not after recent events, but we came through mostly unscathed. I'm glad of our Elf guide: reluctant and self-serving as he's been, he didn't betray us to the dangers of the forest, and he followed the tracks with consummate skill. I admit to some initial skepticism about the "find the one apparently non-evil tracker in the glade, then pay him" method of recruitment, but perhaps the excessively-pious members of our party are on to something. At least we didn't have to deal with any Storm-suckingDeveranians.

Myreth forest was quieter than I expected; maybe I just lack the senses to observe the alarming parts of it. Still, I'm grateful to be out from under the dark and oppressive canopy. I'm still coming to terms with the strange, almost fierce joy I felt at my first opportunity for open, clear-cut battle. When we reached the clearing where the tunnel mouth had collapsed, we were set on by some awesome skeletal bear, and some other rather-humanoid looking undead skeletal beings. Blasting them with flames over and over again felt strangely cathartic, after the enforced quiet, the monotonous march, and all those chaotic and panicked hours at Ghostwood Keep. I can understand now what myEvoker friends mean when they talk of the purity of the raw Elements. Burning away the foul ligaments binding those creatures together, weakening the huge beast so thatMalakar could smash it to bits... at least there's some small piece of wickedness out here that bent and broke to our will and strength. We are not without power, even in the face of subtle and ubiquitous evil.

We've been out on the Broken Plains now for days, following close behind the mercenaries who, presumably, still drag a struggling Dwarf. I'm glad our Borrow is mobile, I wouldn't want to have to haul him around. I do miss my horse, though; my legs are starting to ache from the unaccustomed trek (they say you get used to it after about the third week; I'm in the difficult stage now), and I wish I'd splurged on better boots. I never thought I'd miss the junior mess at the Spire, but trail rations seem rather dry and unpalatable after 10 days of nothing else, especially in these desert conditions. Why oh why did I disdain to pay attention to MasterJoshi's culinary cantrips? Just think, though -- if we somehow manage to help restore order, the Master's mess will be open to me. Now that's the proper wizarding life.

But back to reality, back to the dry and dusty present: It looks although our pursuit may be at an end of sorts. Following an ancient marble road, we've approached an old monastery consecrated toKavara. Borrow spotted movement behind the arrow slits, and the time may be at hand for us to discover who our quarry really are.

Kavara... I've read up on her but I've never encountered anybody who publicly admitted to her worship. Now I can begin to see some of the appeal, the natural connection of Fire and Joy. I betKavara's followers enjoy Fireballs. Still, I doubt the wisdom of such wild abandon, while the world hangs so delicately in the balance.

I just hope this temple doesn't blow up.