Location: Desert Oasis
A journal of dogeared pages, with a pair of flowers - one blue, one violet - pressed between the cover and the first page.
Monday, 21 March 2016
The Caer is safe, in a manner almost surreal. The door is gone as though never having existed in the first place. Will it someday be forgotten? Multiple adventurers now have passed through the land who never knew the broken temple, never knew the puppy at Dundee's heart, never knew... many things I still don't know. Yet the door was a long struggle. Years ago, the search for the seals, chronicled lengthily by Topaz. These past years, the search for its resolution. The suddenness of our success has yet to settle in my mind. Eight dead. Quarrus, who some seemed to all but anticipate wouldn't return. Kathryan. It doesn't seem real yet. Another, whose name I neglect remembrance of. Rubert? Rupert? I'll need to seek the name. Five guards, whose names I know nothing of.
When I saw so many faces beloved heading for the throne room, I feared the worst. When they rejoined our battle, exhilaration. Relief. Relief soon soured by realization. And yet.. our days go on. They must. Balthazar still lives. And during the battle. The color of the light coming from the fortress shown damning, it would seem.
Light. Zanaan's too-bright, clicking.... something.
Should anything have returned from behind that door?
Just as there is fell-dark, is there fell-light?
I need to learn of what happened there.
No longer shall doors of mystery be accepted by me. It... has been a long while since I have written. Journaled. There is so much needs be said. But foremost, having said my piece of the door...
It is time. I am ready to be a rogue again. The fear, the taint, the revulsion... these are gone. Clericy has healed me with every blessing offered. My dreams sing with tunnels, treasures, triumphs. My lifeblood thrums with the thought of a coming turn when I will be what I feel. Thank you.
Though my debt is so great that those giving things away turn their eyes... The pertinence of being so indebted as I seek roguedom a second time does not escape me.
I feel rich beyond all compare. There are songs in it, somewhere.
Home. Home never changes.
It is everywhere.
Cenny posted @ 11:48 - Link
- comments (1)