The Adventuring Journal of K'harra Shustal

    Of all the accounts that I have read that have been written by a T'skrang Adept, this is without a doubt one of the shortest. I am not trying to malign K'harra with that statement, only to point out that while she retains the T'skrang race's flair for words, she does not go overboard with it, the way many of that race are prone to do. Reading this journal is much like hearing a Troubadour's ballad. I hope that you enjoy the experience as much as I did.
    --Donil, Archivist of the Great Library

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    March 2

    Perhaps it is in the nature of such things to happen. I am not so much of a mystic to question them. It lacks purpose.
    But now, it seems, I shall keep a journal. It may help me remember, if the remembering ever becomes relevant.
    I am an Archer. This truly makes sense to me, not boating nor trade, or any of the other things that seem to so inflame the passions of those around me. I felled four foes today with that art, when the pirates attempted to take the boat. Two others with bows, though I am not sure whether they truly saw the path that the Archer walks, another in battle with Sa'histar, and the fourth, a shipmate who wanted to kill me.
    That was the hardest one. One of my own people, but one who had never recovered from the tiniest of slights that was given him, and had an irrational dislike of Sa'histar. It was more trying than falling out of the rigging.
    We make port home again soon. Lake Vors, it seems like it has been so long since I left, and yet it has been nothing.

    -K

    March 24

    I have been freed of ship duty. I am not sure why Sa'histar wants me with him, but I am honored by that choice. He is here, in one of the towns, awaiting something. A message I assume. I am training, learning, finding a new sort of clarity in things. I have cut my own long bow, and marked it with a few lines of runes, naming it my own - Heartsong Soulspeace. That is how I have decided to translate K'harra Shustal, to those who might ask. They would not understand, and it is not worth the explanation.

    -K

    April 9

    The message has arrived, and with such messengers.
    It was borne by a man, of the same sort of people as Sa'histar, for they have the same look about them, and the same curiously forked item with them always. He is also an Adept, I have found, a Scout. I believe that this will be an interesting association.
    There was another human in the group, a Weaponsmith, who seems to have an amazing obsession with a mountain and a cave, and also with the inspection of weaponry. He seems to be a decent enough sort, though perhaps a tad fanatical in his devotions and obsessions.
    Another T'skrang, as well, was there, a Sky Raider with perhaps too strong a taste for powerful drinks than is good for him. When he spent a goodly hour under the table in drunken sleep, there was time to get some reasonable discussion done. He is also a bit more dramatic and overblown than even the khamorro of my journeying, which is rather impressive. He will show his jik'harra even if it kills him, which it seems likely to do.
    The last is an Obsidiman. I do not know what Discipline he follows, but he is as thoughtful and patient a being as the Raideris not. He seems to contemplate every action before even moving, and I am driven to wonder if he does not consider each breath he takes.
    It is a motley party, but Sa'histar thinks that we might be able to achieve something, find a way to recover an item that someone stole. The group has assented in joining himin this quest, and I reaffirmed my decision, now that I have a clearer idea of what he is seeking.
    Tomorrow, we travel. Across the Mother Serpent and beyond.

    -K

    April 10

    Sa'histar is dead.

    At least, the Scout, Owl, says that the riders would not have his Talon were this not so. He is certainly more knowledgable about such things than I am, so I must believe him.
    This is a hard thought to bear.
    Auryxos, the Obsidiman, was nearly slain by an arrow. I took down that bowman, I hesitate to call him archer, for in addition to the fact that I do not know if it is true, I will not grant the honorable title of Archer to anyone who could be a servant of a man so profoundly foul as the thief we are tracking.
    I am disturbed to discover that it is easier to bear the deaths and the woundings, now. Perhaps this cold anger I feel has something to do with it, but I must often make myself remember that these are, in fact, men, and deserve some consideration.
    I have been practicing my Art, the marking of Runes. I have well begun a work on an arrow, one of the ones which was shot at us. I have tested it so I know its fletching full as well as I know my own, and then I began work. I have into it marked my own name, not the name of my Heart and Passion, but the name I have chosen to translate that nature of myself into. As well, I have marked dark runes, the forms of which come easily to me beneath the simple carvings of my blade.
    This is also a hard thought to bear, that I could willingly and with the full force of heart mark the Runes of destruction. But an arrow is an instrument of death as much as it is one of clarity and beauty, and I should not let the darker nature of the path I follow dissuade me from the truth of the walking.
    I lay the arrow to rest. It will wait, and so will I. The time will come that it will fly to my command.

    -K

    April 11

    It is with a certain coldness that I write here.

    There is a power in the man I hunt that diverts an arrow, my arrow, from the path plainly laid out for it. Such things are an offense against the nature of nature.
    I await, then. Now, to join the markings on the shaft of that arrow, I have placed the foul man's name. There will come a time when that shaft will find him, if I can find the charms to break his unnatural aura of mist.
    We have been joined by a Wizard, who at least does not seem to have this foul tendency to him. I will worry no more about that. He has been helpful, but not in the straight path that I now follow. He and my compatriots have been dealing with the instruments of the darkness, leaving him and his graceless weavings to me.
    I made the mistake of loosing an arrow at one of those tools. That was not the straight path. I have learned, now, and will only deal with the obstacles that block my path. My path is simple, now, and I shall deal with the other things at a later time.
    They will not go to the northwest, where the summoner has gone. I will not go alone; the tools are enough to break me were I to do so. So I must be forced to wait. The time will not go unspent, though. They will heal, as shall I, the hurts of these last few days. The journal is in the care of the Wizard, for he can actually read the dratted thing, but I have the use of it when I need my own skill of finding.

    -K

    April 12

    Today was not a day entirely wasted. Merely for the greater part. I have spent much time thinking upon the nature of the Archer, and have felt the strength within me grow with that thinking. I have done the ritual, afterwards, and felt the strength I store within myself grow even more strongly than it did before.

    I have thought, and much, about the nature of the foe. The sorceries that he weaves are mist, are tenuous but strong. I have not the strength in me to blow aside those fogs that wrap his form, those fogs that he binds to his service to harm my compatriots.
    A breath of wind, were it to blow aside those mists for just a moment, just long enough that a cleanfeathered shaft could find his eye, that is all that I ask. A single breath of wind, to blow aside these sorceries that offend the straight flight of my arrow.
    In the length of this long and unproductive day, I have been considering these things. What, for example, is the force that binds the mists and fogs to the service to a man who is but a shadow of a man? I know that it is the powers of magic, not of Wizardry, I think, but something else, likely Nethermancy. I wonder that nature will allow such things to happen, that an arrow can shift from its rightly appointed path, and fall with a clatter in thecourtyard beyond.
    And beyond these, is there anything that I, a simple Archer, can do, to shift these forces of the unnatural back to where they well ought to be? I have no power over mists, and but judge the wind so as to better judge my arrows, but somehow, and somewhere, I think that there must be away to pierce this shield of the warped that protects the creature from harm. I will not say man, but creature. If there is such a way, I will find it, and show him retribution in the form of his own cursed mercenaries' shaft, remade by my hand to serve a better purpose.
    It is now my task to seek out a way of defeating this sorcery, that I may pierce to the true goal. It is a matter for some pondering and thought. May K'harro guide me.

    -K

    April 12 (continued)

    If the power the foe controls is but mist, then the powers that dispel mist should be of assistance. The heat of the noon day sun, and the breeze that blows all before it.

    If the power the foe controls is darkness, then life and light will drive it back.
    If the power the foe controls is death, then life will triumph over him, even as the wind stirs the dullness of an utterly still evening. Thus, the wind, the sun, and the full power of will and being should drive this arrow forwards.
    Perhaps then I can pierce the deception of reality he has created, and end the cold thirst I have for vengeance. It is not a pleasant thirst, but I will have it quenched.
    Sa'histar said to always know your target. I know my target, and I will face my fear with the full force of my being. And thus will the foe fall.
    Perhaps now I will be permitted to sleep, now that these thoughts are free of me. I will let my soul contemplate them as I sleep, and perhaps inspiration for their conjuring will come to me then.

    -K

    April 13

    We followed the trail until it failed. My arrow did not find the man, so we were left bereft of direction.

    We have been joined in our travelling by a human child. Nobody is quite sure what to do with it. It seems to have made great friends with the Weaponsmith's dog, and has caused us minimal difficulty. The village to which it attached has abandoned it, and we have chosen not to bother them with the greater evidence of their dishonor. It is, most likely, a waste of time.
    I have determined to mark the head of the arrow, one side with the Wind rune, and the other with a twining of the marks for fire and the Sun. Should I charge these runes with power, I hope that they will have thepower to pierce that unnatural fog that surrounds the foe.
    I go now, to my work.

    -K

    April 14

    For lack of anything better, we have chosen to return to Lake Vors. This choice hangs heavily upon my spirit, but we shall see what ensues.

    The three Runes to which I devote my time are now scratched, barely visible, into the arrowhead. This is not enough.

    -K

    April 15

    The runes can be read. It is a beginning.

    The only way I can think of to charge them with power is Life Magic, which has its own dangers.
    No matter.

    -K

    April 16

    We return.

    The quarry is sighted.
    The Runes are marked, now, nearly well enough to serve.

    -K

    April 17

    Mother Serpent preserve us all from the stupidity of Her more wilful and less intelligent children.

    Owl and I, being of the more temperate of the party members, determined to follow Sasquatch, the Wizard, and Tristam, the Sky Raider, on what was a simple gathering of information. They were to go into town, and see what they could discover about our quarry.
    Even they, we had thought, could not be so remarkably stupid as to lose track of what is the final goal.
    Well, now we know better, and have sent them back to a more distant camp, under the watchful eyes of Auryxos, who might possibly be able to keep them out of trouble.
    They went into town, and encountered a few straggling remnants of the mercenary band that has been the tools of our enemy. Being mercenaries, they fell to insulting the two of them. Rather than following the path of greater jik'harra, they proceeded to strat a street brawl which was ended by the advent of the Issikan clan's accursed authorities.
    Owl and I debated the necessity for rescuing them from the ship - I am quite certain that there are many folk in S'kretha who would be quite pleased to have it burned - but this was, somewhat oddly, not necessary. Instead, the two of them fought and incapacitated a trio of Issikan clan warriors, likely, from what I have heard, Swordmasters, and fled; Tristam carrying the unconscious Elf.
    Owl and I saw them on their way and have reentered the town under the guise of mercenaries. Our equipment is similar enough that this may pass. We have encountered a remarkably even-tempered Ork, who might well join us on our journey. Better him than the fools we have to deal with now - since they must be kept under close watch from now on lest they do something even more idiotic.

    -K

    April 18

    We have determined that the quarry is most definitely going to Throal, through conversation with a rather canny Dwarf.

    I would relate the nature of this conversation, but I think it is unnecessary. He and I were reasonably well matched in wit, and the discussion was edifying to both of us. I must admit, though, that Dwarven ears and T'skrang logic are an interesting combination, and I am certain no Dwarf will ever truly understand the complexities of our people's mind. Or, if not the mind, at least the speech.
    Owl spent the greater part of the afternoon closeted in meditation, in which I gathered karma, once again using the Rune Arrow as the final empowerment.
    I have also spoken with the Ork, who says he is a Swordmaster. He was quite eager to be moving immediately to pursue the man, but I am unwilling to leave without Owl, and anyway, we must gather the remainder of our party, or at the very least Auryxos.
    We leave tomorrow at first light.

    -K

    April 20

    Our little gathering has once again grown in size, this by the grand sum total of a pair of windlings.

    One of them seems to be mute, though this does not seem to have repressed her powers of communication in the slightest. She alternates between sitting on Auryxos's shoulder and exasperating Tristam, which seems to me to be an apt combination. Her name, I am told, is Ruis - she wrote it in the earth.
    The other is evidently another warrior, and as flamboyant as any T'skrang I have seen. He seems to talk quite well, though I don't know if he can argue. Perhaps I shall determine that at some point.
    We are returning to S'kretha to acquire passage to Throal.

    -K

    April 22

    I fail to understand horse trading, but I do understand boats.

    After some discussion, we have determined to use the less expensive offer. The captain seems quite eager, but harmless enough.
    Ruis and I have our skepticisms, but it is a significant enough difference that it seems worthwhile to select the offer.

    -K

    April 27

    I have my book back, and my bow back.

    Through a sequence of events that is rather complex, our party has been liberated of our food supplies and the remaining gold we had from selling the horses. We are also in the company of about sixty escaped slaves and an Ork whose Discipline appears to be that of Liberator, which I am not entirely familiar with.
    The captain was a tailless swine, but the warrior-Windling seems to have killed him in the course of our escape from the slaver ship. Our party has most of our belongings, mostly thanks to myself and Ruis. The remainder of the people, though, have a different situation. I have given over my spare pair of britches and both my extra shirts to help clothe the people, and if it turns out to be necessary in the morning, will give over the other shirt as well.
    The villagers here claim us to be heroes, but I'd say we were just stupid enough to get caught and lucky enough to get free again.
    I have also seen the man who nearly killed Ilen again. Sasquatch felled him with some sort of spell or other, and I gave him an arrow wound to remember. I imagine I will find him again at some time or another, and then we will see.
    Now, I sleep - and I think in the morning we are beginning to walk to Throal.

    -K

    May 3

    Not much has happened worth noting, really.

    We have found an amulet, and are in the process of discovering about it in the library. Ruis seems fascinated by it, as it is a Windling item this is reasonable.
    Ah, I will relate the tale of something we saw when we got here. We and the gathering of former slaves walked into the town, and there were crowds everywhere. Bartertown is immensely crowded, and Throal is even more colourful. But I digress.
    There was a human woman standing on a box, relating a tale. She was doing quite well at it, well enough to be a Troubadour. However, I believe she claimed Swordmaster as her Discipline. In any case, her tale of battling Theran slavers was one that at the time spoke well to those in our company. It seems that she and the self-same Liberator who aided us, K'arkal, fought a great battle in the skies. The tale was well told, though K'arkal noted some exaggerations to it, rather loudly as I recall.

    -K

    May 16

    We have gotten work on a merchant train to get to Kratas, near the Servos Jungle, where the Kaer associated with Ruis's amulet is said to have been located. In the process, we believe we may well earn enough to train ourselves to the next Circles of our respective Disciplines, as our Wizard Sasquatch has already done.

    I do not know that there will be much to say about that.

    -K

    June 8

    There was not. Owl and I have spoken to certain of the Dinganni tradesfolk, telling them our tale. We have also gotten training, so that we might move further along the paths of our Disciplines.

    We prepare to walk to this Kaer Damlon.

    -K

    June 20

    Woke up, Tristam and Sasquatch were fighting lions.

    Had to send them to fetch an arrowhead.

    -K

    June 26

    I dislike Horror constructs.

    Much.

    -K

    June 30

    We have found the kaer and begun our explorations. There has not been much to battle, which I rather prefer, and we have found interesting treasures of various sorts.

    I have spent some time in meditation on the path of the Archer, and have achieved greater comprehension.

    -K

    Continued on next page....

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