I 'borrowed' a few supplies from Denion's home - I'll be more than glad to pay him for what I took should he and I both return to the smithy sometime. As I looked around for anything that might prove useful, I spotted something I'd not seen for a while. During my time in the lands I've not had need of a bow, though of course the rangers taught me how to use their favoured weapon, and when I left their company they'd presented me with the one I now found. I offered silent thanks to the friend who had kept it in such good condition for me.

I travelled as quickly as I could to the place called Hellhole, stopping briefly a couple of times each day to refresh my skills with the long-unused weapon, and resting only when I was too tired to continue. And then I came to the place I sought ...

The Hellhole is an ancient town, now full of ancient evil. It's eternally shrouded in darkness, and mists drift and twist through the streets. At least, with the mist and the dark, it's not possible to see much more than a vague outline of the twisted creatures that prowl about, which is just as well for I'm sure a clear sight of them might be too much for a mind to comprehend. I drew my blades and prowled around the outskirts for a time, scouting the area as best I could. I found a patch of what I hoped was mud and used some of it to darken my face and dull the brighter parts of my equipment.

As I slipped through the town, I could only hope that Denion had been able to lay down some markers, and that he'd find some way of signalling his whereabouts. I kept at first to narrower lanes or the edges of wider streets, where the darkness was deeper - the ideal place for a rogue such as myself! I moved silently, not wishing to draw the attention of any wandering creature, and had made a brief survey of most of the place when my luck almost ran out. I was edging along a fairly wide street, keeping my back agaimst the walls of the buildings as I did so, when a door was opened right at my back and a hand - or something that could once have been a hand - grabbed at my shoulder. I spun around and saw a club whistling toward my head. Fortunately I'd not been pushed off balance by the sudden clawing at me, and I was able to push back through the door, my blades falling as I clapped one hand over the lower part of the creatures face to try and stop any noise, while I grabbed at the club with the other hand. The door swung shut behind me, and there in a dark, messy room I tussled with ... something ... that was bent on killing me. It was over quickly and fairly quietly ... I dropped the club and regained my blades, then stood with my ear pressed to the door, listening for any sign that the struggle might have been overheard. Hearing nothing, I slipped back out into the dark and mist-shrouded street and continued on my way.

A few steps further, and I found Denion's mark. At last I knew I was close to my old friend, though I could only hope I was close enough, and in good time, to be able to help him ...

I didn't rush the journey to the smithy. When pushed for time, I've made the trip in one day, but there seemed no reason to hurry. I made a camp just inside the forest margin and slept there last night. I could have crossed the plains then and made it to Denion first thing in the morning, but instead I decided to take a break. After all, a quest that has been part of my life for years wouldn't be hampered by one night's rest. Wrongly, as it turned out, there seemed no reason to hasten to the smithy. I've plenty of time on my hands ... nothing but, it seems.
As I lay by my campfire looking up at the few stars visible between the spreading branches of the forest trees, I thought that maybe that wasn't completely true. I've time yes, but I have my skills, and I have my strength - well, if it is strength. I recalled something said to me a few days ago - 'You're one of the strongest people in these lands'. I laughed, and told the speaker that they mistook stubbornness for strength. But, whichever, it keeps me going - it's helped me survive back in the lands for quite some time now, in the eternal battle against evil.

My thoughts drifted back to the lands, beset by darkness and that evil. I've faced them every day. I've fought many creatures - as so many others have I've faced the Evil One himself. It's not the evil, the darkness, that wounds my heart and my soul. The day those raiders took my home and family from me, events in the lands, it seems that people can hurt you far more than any foul creature of the darkness.
Again my thoughts went to the journey on which I found myself. This time, the job will be finished. There will be a reckoning.
And once again, I thought of the lands, of those I'm parted from as I take on this quest. I wondered how they were, what they were doing. I sent a quiet 'Goodnight' to the friends, the loved.


A voice on the wind -
words cast to the elements to seek The One
Do they survive across leagues, endure through marcs
or fade and die, unheard?

Thoughts in the mind -
of life, of honour, of love, of The One
Do they spark and circle, trapped in flesh
or fly free and send their call?

Love across the land -
hears and sees and senses The One
Hopes and fears, despair and joy
When will the day come again?


I woke at dawn, and crossed the plains to Denion's smithy. Strangely enough no fire burned in the forge, nor was there any sign of life. I stopped, waiting to see if I would hear any sound, painfully aware that anyone inside would have seen my approach. I drew my blades ...
The door swung open at my touch, and I quickly slipped inside. The place was devoid of life ... of human life anyway. A messenger-bird on a perch called to me, as though it had been awaiting my arrival. The bird's feathers were matted in blood, though a quick examination showed that the blood did not belong to the bird. It seemed the last person to handle the animal must have been bleeding freely ...
I looked at the parchment the bird had carried. A small fragment, by the look of it hurriedly torn from a larger piece. In between a few smudges and spots of blood, I saw written in Denion's distinctive hand just one word ...

Hellhole

Ellyana has, in the past, written briefly of that place. And I recall the last time I passed through there. It's a dark, twisted place, full of equally dark and twisted creatures. But, it seems, that is where the path will take me next.

There was no-one to see as I left the lands. I'd spoken briefly with Skyelark and Broutac, but as I tried to put my words down on parchment they went to their rest, fading from my sight as pieces of crumpled parchment scattered across the floor around me. Eventually I managed to put my thoughts into some sort of order, and left a parchment where I hope Ellyana will find it sometime. These things shouldn't be written about, but discussed and planned together. But that's not always possible ...
So, un-noticed and alone - just as I arrived here - I turned away from the place I've come to call home.

Last time I spoke to Denion, he'd been sent a parchment. It holds news of the location of that band of raiders that destroyed my home and set me on the path I've followed since. My life in the lands has dulled the desire for vengeance - though that desire is not a true feeling, just a sort of constant aching emptiness. I guess now is the time to return to my quest. After all, that aching emptiness as the search for vengeance eats you up inside is no different from how I've been feeling for some time anyway.

I've made what preparations I can for the journey, seen to my weapons, collected supplies together. I have almost everything I need, and what I don't have I'll have to do without. I've left a lengthy parchment for Ellyana, and a short note for Lucy.

So the time came, and I set out on the road to Denion's smithy, hoping that Ellyana and Lucy will do as I've asked - to remember me in their prayers, to at least simply remember me - until such time as I return, if I am able.

I've been continuing my attempts to clear Old DUndee of the horrors that roam the town, but my efforts seem to be fruitless. No matter how many of the loathsome creatures I kill, there seem to be just as many there the following day. Plat rolls in as I kill, which will be useful in the future for renewing equipment, and there's the occasional spark of interest as a glowie or TB falls at my feet.

I took some time out a couple of evenings ago to talk with a few people. After spending a few days in the old town, it was a relief to pass through the great tree and return to where the sky is clearer and the air is sweeter.

Vardian seemed concerned that she may have offended me in some way. We were having a fairly deep conversation about belief and theology. I found the discussion very stimulating, and I hope I was able to reassure her that I enjoyed the exchange of views. It's not often there is time to just sit and talk about such things, even though what we were talking about is, in many ways, the very basis of the war in which we find ourselves. Hopefully there'll be a chance to carry on with that conversation sometime.

And Bryg ... somehow, through all the jokes, she has the knack of getting me to focus on what's important. At one point I told her I'm just killing time while some things over which I have no control get cleared up. And after we parted, that comment set me to thinking. Maybe it's time I took care of something that I do have control over. Unfinished business, you might say, that needs to have an end put to it.

Last time I spoke to Denion, he revealed that in his possession is a parchment that holds some useful information. I've a few things to attend to in the lands, and then maybe it's time I took another trip to see the smith.

I've taught Chase all I can, and she's proved to be a quick and able student. And yesterday I decided she was ready to take her profession, so we trekked across the sands to the temple. I don't think I'm a hard taskmaster, but I do like to take the time to try and ensure that an initiate is as ready as possible to walk their future path before we make that trip. I'd had some luck the previous day and found a TB which I'd tucked into my pack, thinking to give Chase her first opportunity to open one up. Once she unlocked the box, a diamond ring lay sparkling on the ground between us. A good omen, I think, for her future career. We went our own ways when we reached Milltown, Chase heading off to explore the tunnels while I headed to the guildhall for some rest.

That rest wouldn't come. I tossed and turned where I lay in the lair, unable to sleep. Thoughts and plans, possibilities and ideas, all buzzed around in my mind. I gave up, and paced the guildhall for a while, hoping to tire myself 'til I sleep would come. And it did, eventually, though not for long.

There's another name given to me long ago - Pallas is not my given name. And that other name is known only to one in these lands. In that fitful, restless sleep, it seemed that I heard her voice calling to me, using that other name. I woke, and looked for sign of my lady, but there was none. It seemed the voice in that unrefreshing sleep had been nothing but a dream, that she had not been calling to me. I thought it must have been after all nothing but a sleeping fantasy. At last, I once more slept for a time, and woke to find a messenger-bird had been sent to me. She had indeed awoken after all, and maybe I'd somehow sensed her stirring from her rest. It seems we'd missed each other by only a couple of marcs. That fate I used to think so kind has turned away from us, it appears ...

A while ago, someone said I was dense. And the same person told me that I'm simple-minded. Good thing I don't worry myself too much about what people think of me. I am what I am. I don't happen to think the comments were justified, but that's a different matter.

I've spent more time on that beach, sitting and thinking. Well maybe not so much thinking as waiting to see what comes to my mind as I sit and look out at the waves. It's peaceful, a welcome break from farming and training. What came to my mind was separation, of one kind or another.

It often seems, in these lands, that two friends may have to be wary of being seen together, to be overheard talking and laughing together, lest there be any misunderstanding by an onlooker simply because one is male and one female. There is trouble enough in these lands, with our constant striving to hold back the evil forces that beset us, without having to worry about rumour, or twisted exaggerated tales being passed on to others. So we have to miss out on a simple pleasure of life, just to avoid distorted tales possibly being passed around.
Speaking of missing out and missing, another thought occurred to me. If I avoid someone, sleep when they wake and wake when they sleep, don't contact them, can I claim to miss them? Doesn't seem that way to me. Maybe the word has a different meaning that I don't understand. And another thing ... how long can I continue in that fashion and expect that other person to have any feeling for me? That's complicated, I guess. Depends on a lot of things. How things stand between myself and the other person, what feeling there may be before I start acting in that way. Too much to thjink about or comprehend, it seems to me. One sure thing is that we don't know how closely we may get away with it, but we certainly find out too late if it goes on for too long.

Another thought struck me after these others. All I seem to have been thinking about is things that I don't understand. Maybe the person I first spoke of was right after all ...

In between sessions of farming these last days, I've been camping out in a spot that holds a special place in my heart. I could just take the ferry, but I suppose that would be too easy, the way I'm feeling right now. There's another way ... it's simple, but not easy. I just have to keep fighting until eventually some creature sends me crashing to land at the LM, and once I can move it's just a few paces to where I want to be. Once there I prepare a fire and cook a meal as I've done so often there in the past, though of course now it's a meal for only one. And I sit and think.

I think of those in my life right now. The friends I can share a word with ... a friend who wonders if we should speak together as we seem to always end up talking about the same thing 'reinforcing the thoughts that go around and around in circles in our minds' as she put it ... a sponsee who is taking well to the training for their chosen path. They have the sceptre and almost the necessary experience, and the training is all but done. Good timing. And soon the lands will have one more rogue to carry on the fight, one with a bright future I'm sure.

And I think of those not in my life. Friends from recent times, and those from earlier days, who no longer walk the lands. Guildmates who seem to be sleeping their lives away right now. And the one whose absence pains me more each day. I look for messenger-birds, listen for a voice ... in vain.

I met with Nael a couple of evenings ago. We compared notes and ideas about the guild, and what could be done in the future. Though what we can achieve right now is difficult to see. Two officers can discuss things all they like, I suppose, but one other cannot wake much at the moment, and one hasn't walked the lands for quite some time. And the leader wakes only briefly and speaks with a select few. Or so I'm told. I suppose discussing guild affairs will have to be put on hold for the time being ... along with many other matters.

As I said, I've been camping in a place that has been very special to me ... to us. We've sat and talked quietly as we look up at the stars, and played in the sea. We've made plans ... maybe some day the things we spoke of will come to be. Time will tell.

I checked over my equipment. It's taken a beating recently! I smoothed the nicks out of my blades, and managed to beat a few of the worst creases out of my armour. And I gazed at one particular item for the longest time wondering just how many people it now means anything to... And that thought also is something I have no answer to at the moment.

There's one certainty - I recall something I said to one friend, in amongst all the various conversations of late in which I'm running out of answers and excuses and usually end with me saying 'Don't know' or 'Couldn't say.' The conversation with this particular friend at least ended on a more positive note than most others at the moment. I looked out ocross these lands as we spoke, and said ...

Here I stand. And here I remain.