K'stalnika, my family's end.
We are camping with a party of Ork cavalry, a large mass of Name-Givers,
people, an array of color and life that could not but make me homesick.
So, I wrote, and writing gave me peace of mind and peace of heart, because
there is written the truth of the matter - a T'skrang is ever conscious of
the niall, of the home, no matter how far she may be from there, and it is
in my mind to see the Mother Serpent again, soon, to sweep my gaze across
the wide shimmering breadth of Lake Vors, find my hatchmates and see what
they have made of themselves.
Perhaps I can arrange it; I could take the opportunity there to go to that
village whose existence is still a nagging ache at the back of my mind,
the place where we found the child who was adopted by Owl's family. I
would haul out the truth of that matter, and perhaps edge whoever left the
child alone over into the realm of justice from whatever dark corner he
has chosen to ahve as a lurking place.
Home againn, that would be a fine sight to remember. I am thinking that I
miss it, watching Tristam and Sasquatch and Ridley drink themselves
unconscious on hurlg, and Owl and Auryxos just drink, listening to Forge
tell tales (not that the Orks would believe even the true bits; but I did
make a few necessary corrections when he went too far. Most of his
exaggerations just made me wince, but in a tall tale contest truth is a
rare commodity, and my own inclinations and personal oaths irrelevant.)
-K
November 28
Throal once again. We arrived yesterday, amidst a plague of merchants,
and found ourselves an inn. Today I spent profitably; I spoke at length
with the innkeeper (a cheerful woman who spoke to me as if I were
bare-hatched, but that is not truly insult; I would be the first to admit
that I know little of a place this large.) Having completed that, I spent
some significant time exploring. I have become a member of the (let me
fish out the appropriate notes) Guild of Performers, Troubadours, et
cetera, which entitles me to actually practice the art of my lute. I have
also found someone who might be able to teach me more of this self-same
art, which is well worth the while.
I have been thinking, in fact, and ought to note those things that I have
been thinking upon down so that I do not lose them in the turmoil of
Throal - the colours might well have that sort of effect on a mind such as
mine - though I am Archer, I am still T'skrang. Therefore, I will begin
to list.
Truth being, as it is, a many-faceted thing, then it shows little wit to
go at it from only one direction. There is a clearer shot from the hill
than the gully, or perhaps from this hill rather than that one, so one
must consider the full nature of the whole before one chooses one hill
from which to launch true words. (I should likely have a conversation
with Owl on the nature of his Discipline; this seems to be something that
I might well be able to hash out even better from his perspective.
Another note, remember that sentence, Heartsong, you'll want to think on
that later.)
Granted, then, that my own truths are not those of my fellows, then I
should make a study of as many separate things, as many knowledges, as
many thoughts and patterns and threads of thoughts, that I can curl my
mind around. To learn, to know, to comprehend, to understand, to seek
truth through shots placed not from convenience but from aim; this is to
be my guide, my purpose, my true goal in life. There is the axis that I
choose to measure, destiny, p'skarrot, and the truth of my sight of
haropas against.
I learn, therefore I am. Should I learn as much every year of my life as
I have learned in these past eight months then I should consider it a good
start; but only a start, even if I should reach seventy years of age.
Truth is not a thing to be reached, not all at once, and not from the
first step. Instead, enlightenment, haropas, truth, these things are to
be achieved through the striving, the reaching, the learning, and the
knowing - the uunceasing jik'harra of facing the unknown and making it
known.
Further, I wish to capture the old tales. So many legends, so many
stories, so many things that might never be remembered save by dusty
scholars perusing dustier books. I know, I could recite, the Tuskrang
tale of the beginnings of things; but what of Ork and Elf and Troll and
Windling, Obsidimen, Human, and Dragon? What do these other Name-Givers
have to say about them? They do not reverence the Mother Serpent as we
do; Her importance might be diminished, or even set by the wayside to make
another tale completely. Hom many people can recollect the true legends
(for a legend is always true in its own way; otherwise nobody would care
to remember it at all, let alone note it down in a dusty old book) of any
race other than their own? (Tales such as that of the Earthdawn are a
different matter; but even so, unless they are rewritten to catch the eye
of this year's hatchling, they too will fall into dust.) Not many.
Thus I shall study, learn, haul out the truth by its tail from the dust if
need be, and set it out again in words that can be read again, seen again,
breathed in and made up so that they are not forgotten. I will forge new
tales, true ones, of the things I see - the heroes of Damlon, for example,
must be written out and remembered - and the things that I do, such as the
battle against the Gnashers in the Citadel of the Dragon.
A truth spoken out so that it will be remembered is a reverence to
Mynbruje.
A truth forgotten is injustice, cruelty, a denial of the jik'harra of
those who made that truth so.
Thus, my duty is not only to be a maker of truths, but one who remembers,
a finder of truths not only in kaer and wild lands, but in the dust of
books and half-discarded legends. From dust, perhaps, a tale to set foot
to tapping, tail to thumping, wings to humming, all of these things - from
dust perhaps I can conjure something of that sort up.
Heartsong will study all she can; for each point of knowledge is the crest
of another hill, and knowing the terrain of the land surrounding the way
to truth enables one to better place one's shot.
Thus I am resolved.
To Mynbruje again I renew my unspoken vows, and I note it down here in ink
that it might never be forgotten. The memories of Namegivers are
occasionally in fault, but words well-writ are well-remembered.
-K
December 5
It has been a moderately busy week; I found someone who could instruct me
further in the playing of my lute (a skill which I truly feel like
improving, in addition to the others that I would like to improve. There
are so many things I wish to do, and so very little time to do them in.)
and proceeded to do some playing. He and I did a great deal of working
together, we played well, and I witnessed a few intriguing arguments.
(This Throallic art of the debate is something that I could easily learn,
I think, it would do me some good.) I also, incidentally, taught my
instructor the conjuring of the Passions, the song that I made the words
to and Ruis the music. This pleased him immensely; I hope that it does
well.
This morning I got up very early - I wanted as much time in the Great
Library as I could manage, and so getting up inordinately early seemed to
be a good plan. I also left Friendship's Arrow with the innkeeper to give
to Sasquatch. He's been moody lately, practically sullen, and he hasn't
said a word to me in ages; maybe that will help. Perhaps he will see
better, in the future.
I have been in the Library, as I mentioned, and have pulled up a
collection of old stories, legends, and the like, and filed them away in
my mind. Eventually they will be noted down here, but as proper poetry
instead of mere tales. A retelling would do them all some good, I think.
Auryxos mentioned that someone was talking to him about possible
employment. Something official, I believe, about verifying a map. That
would be an interesting things to assist in, and honor Mynbruje in the
drawing up of the truth.
-K
December 8
We are met again, and Ella Pono does employ us. (She is an Ork.)
We have sworn an Oath that we cannot speak of the exact nature of our
mission, but we go in any case.
Our guides are a pair of Pale Ones, T'skrang of the dark places. They are
Named Shigo and Muravi. The latter of these seems to have taken a liking
to Tristam; I'm not sure what she sees in him, though in truth he does
seem to have improved slightly. In any case, they will be amusing to
observe.
-K
December 11
The arrow worked; I had a lovely little chat with Sasquatch today (or
whatever passes for days here) over Tristamus flirting with Muravi. This
is a bit more than I expected, but I am rather proud of myself for my
minor achievment.
-K
December 18
There was a village, here once, and the peace that Garlen's shrine nearby
might have brought me is shattered by the tense of that being. There are
bodies scattered over the shore, Dwarf, Ork, and Pale One T'skrang.
Pale Ones do not live in mixed-race villages; the others came here and
burned the place.
-K
December 19
The burnings continue.
Mynbruje's eyes behind my own watch, and I wait. I am patient, yes, but
those responsible will be found.
The most recent place, the ash was still warm.
-K
December 20
Now, at least, there has been much to talk about. I will mark out the
list of the evening's events carefully.
I was sitting in the prow of the boat, sharpening the sword (being of a
somewhat irritable and belligerent frame of mind at the time) so I saw the
place clearly, a village as yet unharmed, with light spilling out through
the windows of one of the larger huts.
We were greeted by the people there (after Tristam won a ritual combat, to
the first blood) with wonder and amazement, until a river ship appeared.
Then many fled, and the warriors came to take down their spears and stand
on the shore. Owl and I took up to the hills, while our companions stood
at the front.
I reached out with my heart, feeling Mynbruje bless my eyes, my soul, with
perception - haropas in the communion with him, haropas in the discovering
- and I tapped the mind of a warrior in the lead of the rafts. His heart
was full of lust, greed, all directed at the village where we stood. I
shouted down, exactly what I disremember, and loosed an arrow in smooth,
perfect arc, watching it sail with the knowledge of its truth, its justice
- for these were warriors with no compassion to them, merely here to bring
destruction.
The battle raged only a minute before they were driven back, and once
again Mynbruje guided me as I looked at the boat that was waiting to
recieve the warriors - and it was K'tenshin, the symbol of the Nine
Diamonds flying on its mast, the Abanos Foundation rune marked on its
prow.
Tailless slaving bastards! The fury struck me, and I came down to the
beach, and told my companions what I knew - and my suspicions that the
poor folk of the other places had been carried away for slavery was
confirmed, then.
One of the warriors I questioned, and gathered a great deal of information
from him before my insight into when he was lying faded. he and his
fellows fought to increase the honor of their house, Raghul.
We spoke with the shivalahala, an honored woman indeed, in the Ritual of
Stories and Questions. Each of us told a tale (she told one of a serpent,
which I may put into a song) and I told the Dream Tale to them. Then we
traded questions, and the one she asked me was if I was a Questor of
Mynbruje. When I answered, she asked me to sit judgement over the
warriors.
They had little to say to deny their actions. Thus, they were guilty, for
they had nothing to offer me for mercy's sake. Tristam wanted to cut off
their tails, but they were acting within their own honor. They did not
deserve such a death, so I told Tristam that he was in an error of
judgment. The mere following of paths that we might deem are wrong is not
sufficient cause for such a traitorus death.
If they must die, then let them die with their honor, for it was their own
jikuharra to do as they did. But my heart is heavy, Mynbruje, for the
path that I follow is a difficult one.
-K
December 23
There is the sound of rushing water; the river must be changing.
Yes, there ahead it divided into downflowing passages.
We have beached the raft on a sandbar. Ridley is investigating one of the
passages (Windling speed and slightness being an advantage in this case.)
Once we know what exists on the other side, we will see what we can
accomplish.
-K
December 23 (continued)
Ridley returned, and from an unexpected direction; there was a door here
whose presence we missed. He informs us that we have found the place
which we sought, the Dragon's Jaws, and as well the others who we have
been pursuing. After some time and work we have completed the first
portion of our plan. I write, now, as we await the time of final
execution.
We entered the tunnels, dealt with the guards appropriately (knocked them
out) and freed the slaves who were entrapped (we let down the bridge, a
rebellion was already in its early stages.) I have spent some time
giving a few of the slaves some basic training in the use of the crossbows
we removed from the guards; they may be able to do some good with them,
although my art is not to the mechanical bow, so I am unsure as to the
value of my instruction.
We (the group of us, Ella and Muravi are back with the raft still; Muravi
has yet to recover from her near-death (I neglected to mention it; Tristam
saved her with a salve or potion or something, and she has been even more
attached to him since then) and Ella is looking after things. Thus, the
party is myself, Owl, Auryxos, Tristam, Sasquatch, Forge, and Ridley) are
going to take the Nine Diamonds ship, if it is still in the harbor below
(we are wary of actually sending someone to go look) and keep the people
there from turning the tide of battle; the slaves and the Ork who seems to
be a Liberator will take the buildings on the shore.
It is time.
We go.
-K
December 24
It has taken some time for me to gather my mind into the writing of this
entry. My heart is troubled, but the path to justice is not so easy. The
choice may be the arc of an arrow, but there are few well-placed shots.
Though what must be done is clear before me, it is not always the choice
that the thin edge of the vengeful spirit in me would choose.
We took the ship, incidentally, without much trouble. (Tristam and I put
out two shots each from the fire cannon; two buildings, a large crowd of
opponent warriors, and a bonfire exploded in a rather discordant fashion.
it was what had to be done, but it was not an easy thing to do
nonetheless. I wonder, sometimes, at the unholy glee some of my
associates have in the destruction of other creatures.)
Then again I was called to judge. The crew of the ship surrendered when
their captain fell unconscious; the dwarven horde on the shore was mostly
dead or captured, along with their Deep One companions. The Dwarves were
an outlaw house, who plotted against the king of Throal some time ago, or
so I was told. And so the mate, who was speaking to us, offered us the
trade of their freedom and their ship for the silver they had, and the
transfer of the renegades to Throallic authority.
They had broken no law, at least not in this place and not that could be
seen, so they had to go free. A few of my compatriots (Ridley and
Tristam, I will not be afraid to note it down) suggested killing them or
cutting their tails; but that would be injustice, and thus could not be
permitted. I added a condition, that they testify as to their association
with the renegades in question, as well as to said peopleus actions, and
they agreed.
It is not a solution that sits easily in my heart, tailless Theran slaving
allies as they are; however, and this is a large however, I cannot permit
the angers of the past and future actions of a house sway the truths of my
decisions. If I am to Quest, then I shall do it truly, and let the facts
of the situation present themselves to me as impartial and clear-minded.
I must be to them the instant of clarity and truth, the releasing of the
arrow that will strike well because that is the way that such things
always are.
Yes, that is it - the point at which all focus is the arrow, and that
instant when the arrow will fly true and hit the mark, that is the point
from which all mediation and judgment must come.
-K
December 30
Our return to Throal comes once again, and we are scattered for a time.
Forge has wandered off to learn something, I think, and I will spend some
time in the Library, gathering things to make songs of, and some time in
training, and some in studying. I shall have a busy time of it, I
imagine.
-K
January 8
The new year strikes, and with it I take the next step onwards, into a new
Circle. I found an Archer who could teach me; he was rather busy, mind
you, and had employment striking on the morrow, so the training was
intense. However, speed is a virtue so long as no accuracy is lost, and I
feel somewhat secure in the knowledge of my new Talents.
I also found some day or two ago a Questor of Garlen who is willing to
take me as an apprentice for a time; I have a mind to study some of the
arts of healing. (Not only would they be, well, useful granted this lot
of folk that I associate with, but easing the pain of others is something
that I must ever do. Friendship's Arrow was but an example of the path
that must go on.)
-K
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