It’s been a fairly busy time recently. Not that being busy is in any way a bad thing. Keeping active keeps our wits sharp, gives a reason to keep our blades keen and – in my case at least – holds off a strange tendency my armour has to shrink if I sit around the hall for too long doing nothing!
Aliona’s training is just about complete now, and pretty soon we will make our way to the temple, and there will be one more able member of the ranks of the rogues of Valorn. It’s an honour and a privilege to be able to usher initiates onto their chosen path, to help them learn the way of the rogue, both before and after visiting the temple.
It takes more than signing a parchment to set somebody into the way they have chosen. That is how it seems to me.
A long time ago I saw a rogue in Milltown, and asked him I could become one such as he.
‘Follow me,’ he said, and led me to the temple. Once inside he asked for my apprentice papers, and signed his name to the parchment. ‘There,’ he said. ‘Now you are a rogue.’
I left the temple with no clearer idea of what I should do than when I entered. In the turns and cycles that followed, I learned the ways of my profession. Just about everything I know is self-taught, learned through often bitter experience.
I made a vow that should I ever be asked to sponsor a would-be rogue that I would never leave them in the position in which I had found myself. So my students are faced with lessons, during which I talk probably far too much in the hope that they will remember some of what I try to impart. There are small quests to hone skills in information-gathering, and instruction in the art of fighting with two blades rather than with the sword-and-shield combination they have used previously.
While I speak of the profession and of what skills we can use for the benefit of all, I invariably find myself reflecting on how I do certain things in a particular way, and the reasons I chose that way to operate. That will sometimes spark an idea for me to improve my own methods.
The students are, naturally, free to choose their own ways once they leave the temple. But I can take some satisfaction from knowing they have had a thorough grounding in the basic knowledge they need. Many may have become impatient, though they hid it well. Most have stayed the course. They are, I am sure, more knowledgeable and more confident as they take their first steps on the path than if I’d merely signed a piece of parchment for them. They can take pride in themselves, and I can be proud of them as I follow their progress.
And there maybe might be just a little pride left over, for me, knowing that someone looking for a teacher and sponsor has been told to speak with me. Seems I’m not the only one who thinks my way, hard as it might sometimes appear, lead to a competent and honourable rogue, well-versed in the ways of the profession and aware of how their skills can be used for the good of all.

It’s been almost a full cycle since the expedition to Ryn but it’s taken until now for the horror to subside sufficiently to allow me to write of the affair. The attack was planned as the first of a series of such incursions, in which we will cleanse and reclaim the city.
The journey went well. All those wishing to join the expedition met at Dundee, and then at a quiet command the enchanters set about their work. Portals appeared and adventurers stepped through, to emerge at the Algal River south of the reborn zone. I’d been able to produce a guide, a few words of advice, for those who had never before traversed the Zone itself. In such an area, it is vital that all work together. Group after group made the crossing – all in safety so far as I am aware – and we all assembled in the Tainted Nexus. There’s a Life Monument there, which long ago in an earlier invasion was purified by the gods, and all were advised to tie there.
And then we set off through dark twisted passages, the ground beneath our feet still soaked in blood, heading for our first target – the kitchens and storage areas.
One of the clerics from Bran had developed an affinity with a holy ring infused with power from the Dark Staff. Phoebe was able to cast a shield which protected areas from demons once they were clear of any already there.
The fight was long and earnest. The sights we saw were grim. Particularly heart-breaking was the sight of children’s remains, discarded in dark corners of store-rooms.
Topaz asked if those poor children might be the ones whose souls were inside the balloon which had accompanied me for some time. There’s no way to know for sure. I had, in my wandering, visited Ryn wondering if there would be any change in the children’s song which was continually in my ears, but I could detect no such fluctuation. I asked the clerics who were carefully, reverently, collecting the remains so they could be interred in a fitting manner. Their answer was the same as my thoughts – that there is no way to tell. Whether or not they are the same children, it is at least heartening to know they are now properly buried, and are finally at peace.
The kitchens and storerooms cleared and cleansed, we withdrew from that dark city. But soon we will return, and in time the light of the ‘rifter will reign where now there is only darkness. When the turn arrives, I – and my blades – will be ready, and eager to face the challenge.
It may take a while. But so long as we work together we will prevail.

Sometimes the seemingly trivial can become rather irritating. I don't drink to excess, only when at a gathering of come sort, or sitting with friends for a chat. But when I do so, I appreciate a decent glass of wine.
I had to forego wine, and drink mead or ale for a few turns. Ale, I find, is rather too bitter for my taste. And mead is too sweet. I needed something in between the two, but never found anything to my taste.
Eventually I resorted to drinking water!
Thankfully my penance has passed. The first sip from a glass was a delight, as I savoured the flavour. I can get back to fully enjoying gatherings again!