I've had little time since returning to the lands to reflect on my recent journey. I heard of odd events on the prairie, and demons at the broken obelisk. I took a look around, and found myself in a network of tunnels below ground. I roamed around for quite a while, sometimes alone and sometimes in the company of Tarryn and Zaren. A tunnel led upward, though there was a tough battle virtually every step of the way, and eventually I found, entirely by accident, a way onto the plains outside Dundee. I've returned a couple more times, and am slowly beginning to find my way around with some confidence.
The Viscontessa and the Devora have held a couple of contests, and very interesting they were. One was to explain why a particular item is the most precious to us. We'd been asked to be brief, though by the time I'd finished the Devora's hand was reaching for her hammer! Coincidentally, I was recently asked by someone if I find it impossible to give a short reply to a question, and after some thought I had to admit that is indeed the case - accompanying the response with a lengthy explanation of the reasons why! Strange, really, for one who in the past was accused of being taciturn, of being unwilling to speak with others. Clearly, I've changed in some ways that only I hadn't noticed.

So - exploration and contests, time spent speaking with friends and guildkin. And painfully short time spent in my lady's company. Ellyana seems brighter since last we met. I had heard from those she'd spoken with in the intervening time that she did indeed seem in better spirits, and that news has lightened my own burden.

In quieter moments I've contined jotting down odd notes about what I want done at the site of that fallen tower. When time allows I can pull them all together, and return with a completed plan for the project, and the coin and the time to see the job done.

Every journey passes through one very critical spot. There's a point which, once passed, signifies that it is a shorter distance to your destination than to return to where you started from. I woke in the camp of the forestmen, well aware that I had passed that point - and even more aware of the time I'd lost. I joined a few of the men where they were gathered around a small fire, and ate a very welcome hot meal, checking my equipment as I did so. Night was falling as I considered how far I still had to travel. The last time I passed this way, it was a day's walk, a night's rest, then a few more marcs walk. This time there would be no rest, I determined to push straight on to my destination.
I left the camp at first light, making good time as I passed beneath the trees then out onto open grassland. Differing scenarios passed through my mind, though I could make no definite plans without seeing the situation in the place I'd so long planned to revisit. Continuing dark devastation, new light and rebirth, or maybe something in between - only time would tell. The forestmen knew only that there had been more travellers in the area, though were unsure whether those travellers were passing through, or were maybe people returning to homes from which they had once fled.
My path took me once again among trees, then down a small track. My spirits rose slightly, for the area did not seem as gloomy as I recalled, the air seeming to hang less heavy. And then I broke clear of the trees, and it became clear what the princess and I had achieved on that long-ago day.

A community - not large, but seemingly thriving - had been re-established where once had been naught but darkness and devastation. A few houses, a trader, a tavern ... and further off in the valley I could see a farmhouse or two. The place was unrecognisable - with one exception.

The remains of the tower still lay where they had fallen. Charred wood, smoke-blackened stone - satisfaction, and no small measure of relief, washed over me as I surveyed the ruin. I glanced off to one side, to the spot where I had spoken with the shade, and offered my thanks and the hope that he too was now at peace. And thoughts of peace led me to consider again the last vestiges of that dark tower. There was nothing left here, no malign influence to disturb the princess' peace - but I knew that even so, those last signs had to be obliterated, so that all memory and influence of what had been might pass from her.

An idea came to mind, and I realised what I could do, to remove signs of the past and to build hope for the future. But it was more than could be accomplished by one man alone.

I pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, and started jotting down a few notes, and a drawing of what had come to mind. As I did so, I was approached by a man who I'd seen looking at me with a quizzical expression on his face.
'Pardon the intrusion, friend,' he said 'but I can't help but admit to being curious about what you're doing here,'
I continued with my notes and sketches. 'Some unfinished work,' I replied, nodding toward the fallen ruins. 'My lady and I, we burned that place. The air is sweeter now, yes?'
'You did this? Yes indeed, the darkness has gone from this place. I and several others have returned since the tower fell. If only there was some way we could thank you.'
'I have my thanks,' I said. 'The sure knowledge that the tower indeed fell, was totally destroyed, has lifted a great weight from my mind. And it will do the same for my lady. But there's more I would like to see done ...'
I was grateful for all the endless marcs I'd spent farming in the lands. Coin would be needed for what I had in mind. 'If you've a mind to earn some plat, you and some of your friends might have money to help rebuild your township. Perhaps you could ask a few to join us?'
My companion grinned, and said he could round up a few friends to meet me in the tavern, should I care to pay for a few ales. He went off on his errand, and I walked to the tavern and asked for a score of ales to be put out on the bar.
My former companion returned, and he and his friends took ales, took seats, and looked at me expectantly.
I told them some, but not all, of what we had done in that tower, and what I now wanted done. I left them my notes and drawings and a good supply of plat, and told them I would return in a mooncycle or so to check on progress.
When they had agreed to my wishes and gone to their homes, I slept the night at the tavern. My heart was lighter than it had been for a long time as I left the place the following dawn.
It was time to make my way home to the lands. I shall return once more to Brighttree soon, to see how the work progresses. I can trust those townsfolk to fulfil my wishes. My words to them, a debt they feel owed to the princess and me, the plat to see the work done - yes, I'm sure the work will turn out according to that picture that came to my mind as I gazed on the fallen stone of the tower. And if all goes right, if what transpires satisfies me, then perhaps some time I'll not return alone, and then we'll see if what has been achieved satisfies another. And hopefully, will ease a burden that has been carried for far too long.

Howling wind continued to whip up snow that had already fallen, mixing it with fresh snow that still swirled about me. I eventually lost the fight to keep a fire lit and resorted to filling a mug with snow and holding it next to me under my pile of wolf-pelts, what heat there was beneath the hides eventually melting the snow to water. Food we can do without for a few days if necessary, but water is essential. I slept much of the time, under a sky that seemed to stay a uniform shade of gray, so that it was difficult even to follow the passing of the marcs.
But there was no true rest to be had. The shriek of wind, the weight of an ever-thickening blanket of snow pressing down on me, concern about what might be happening in the lands - for there was no chance of any messenger-bird finding me in that benighted place - all ensured that it was not a descent into a restful sleep but more an eventual surrender to the need for trying to garner some strength. Perhaps that grudging descent into oblivion is what it's like at the end, unless we are taken quickly.
I think it was three days before that snowstorm ceased, though I'm not positive, and never will be, of just how long a time I spent there. Eventually the wind dropped, the snow ceased to fall, and I was able to collect my equipment together and go on my way. After so long hardly moving, it took quite some time.
Half-blinded by the 'rifter's light as it reflected from the fallen snow - hungry - cold - wet. I felt more dead than alive as I made my way down from the mountain pass, and probably looked so, too. My path led to the stream I remembered from the last time of passing this way, and after pausing for a short time to drink of the clear water, I made my slow and faltering way along its course and down to the ocean strand.
I thought at first to tarry there awhile, to try and catch some of the fish that must teem in the rolling waves, but having already lost far too much time, it was with some regret that I turned away from the ocean, heading east back amongst the trees. I was moving quickly - well, as quickly as I could - and perhaps I pushed myself too hard after the deprivation of my enforced stop high up in the mountains that now lay behind me.
The forest-men told me, when I woke in their camp, that they were at first unsure if I was asleep, unconscious, or perhaps dead, when they found me crumpled beneath the spreading boughs of a tree.

I've been caught up here in the mountains by a blizzard. All day it's been a struggle to stop the howling wind from extinguishing my small campfire, though it's hardly been worth the effort. Any small amount of heat from the fire is sucked away by wind, sleet, and snow. The remains of those wolves' hides have come in useful. I've piled them around and over myself, and they at least keep the worst of the raging elements off me. I'm cold ... so cold, and my clothing and equipment are saturated and just about freezing solid. The cold and the wet make the wounds I took fighting off the wolves ache even more than when they were freshly made by the creatures' slashing teeth and claws.
I've been thinking about this journey. Up here in the middle of a raging snowstorm, the reasons seem less compelling somehow, and I have even less of any idea as to what I might accomplish than when I started out.
Of course I have no true idea of what I'll find. For sure, Ellyana and I watched that tower burn ... but the thought's been on my mind for some time that maybe, just maybe, enough of it survived the flames to carry on exerting some malign influence. If I'm wrong, all well and good. But if I'm right ... what to do? The best thing seems to my mind to not leave that benighted place until I've made sure that there's no stone left standing on another.


My thoughts have been wandering ... must be the cold working it's way into my bones, into my very soul. I think I slept for a time then roused when I thought I heard her call me ... but the only sound I hear now is wind shrieking through these mountain passes. I've been trying to focus my thoughts, to call up memories of other times ... of the last time we came this way travelling with so much hope. But it's been difficult to pin down those thoughts, to stop my mind from drifting and darting around like the snowflakes blown around me.

I recall a comment a few days ago ... Lowrenzo asked what if I no longer walked the lands, and he told a tale of me, and there were none to recall the rogue Pallas? There are, true, a few items ... a few parchments on which my name is mentioned ... memories, perhaps fleeting, of what some might have thought at the time of any small thing I may have accomplished ...

Definite thought merges into daydream ... memories mix with what I see before me ... words and faces from the past fly around in this howling storm. Faces and names not seen or heard in the lands for a long time now ... it may be that my fellow rogue was right, that it's my doom to fall somewhere and lie unremembered ... but those names and faces are remembered, by me at least.

I need to rest but should not ... I need to sleep but dare not lest there is no waking ... I'll stay in what shelter I have 'til this frozen tempest blows itself out, and then I'll move on. Yes, once I can rouse myself I must keep moving.

I took the time for a few final marcs farming up in the crags, collecting the plat for what supplies I'd need for my journey. Next came a visit to some of the traders, collecting what was necessary. My UW has been lodged at the bank, along with much of my usual equipment, as I'd decided the guise of a wanderer would suit me best in my travels. And from the vault I took a treasured gift, a duelmaster which Ellyana long ago had modified to provide a light source. Some of my way is dark, and there might be danger before me.
I'd been intending to undertake this for quite some time, but it's not been possible. I felt that I should continue roaming the lands, making sure the insignia of the guild was seen, and looking out for any kin who might wake. But now, Twilight Serenity has more of a presence in the lands. Nael is back with us, having once more taken up his rightful place as an officer of the guild. And, so I am told, Ellyana has been waking recently. So I was finally able to take time for this personal business.

I set out with the words of one valued friend ringing in my ears - to call on them should I be in need of help. There were no others to see as I slipped away from the lands. Though I did linger for a while, looking at the guildhall we have built. Before I came to the lands, there had been no one place to call home, not for many long cycles of the 'rifter, and I reflected on the many changes there have been over time as I made my way along darkened footpaths and then out into the wild.

South and east I went, moving as quickly as possible. I recalled the way, and if memory should fail I still have the map that Denion gave me so long ago.

Though physically alone, memory walks beside me every step of the way. Sometimes a flicker of movement would catch my eye as I made my way across the grasslands and up onto the plateau, and for a moment I'd think that she was there. Or a gust of wind might swirl about me, seemingly carrying the scent of her perfume or the echo of her voice. And the flowers on the plateau were their own reminder of the garland I wove for her hair the last time we passed this way. I didn't tarry there on that lush plateau, preferring to push on as fast as possible.

I made it as far as the mountains on the first day, and found to my cost that the wolves still roam there. Luckily, I'd found a spot to make camp near a small niche in the rock, so was able to fight in a place where my back was protected when the attack came. I'll not dwell on what happened. I can repair the nicks in my blade, and the wounds will heal in time. And at the end, I had the makings of a fine wolfhide cloak.