Echoes of Heritage: The Journey of a Lost Son

[D4wN]

The nightmares... they keep coming, relentless and unending. Each night, I try to force myself awake, to escape their grasp, but I remain trapped, ensnared in their dark embrace. Flashes of demons, fire, and blood—so much blood—assault my senses. The screams pierce the air, a haunting symphony of terror, and I am powerless to silence them.

Yet amidst the chaos, I feel an insistent pull, a calling I cannot ignore. The island of Arelith beckons me with an irresistible allure. It whispers promises of truth, of answers to the questions that plague my soul. I seek to uncover my origins, to discover the roots of my being. The nightmares drive me forward, compelling me to confront the mysteries that lie hidden within the shadows of Arelith.

[D4wN]

I ask my father for answers, but he is reluctant. He either fears the truth will change me or perhaps that it will make me hate him. I don't know for sure, but I do know that I need answers. I can feel these nightmares growing stronger, and doubt is eating away at me. Itzal has always been kind to me, and I love him and call him 'father,' but he is not my creator.

My real parents were on that island, on Arelith. All I know is that they are both dead. That's why Itzal took me away all those years ago and gave me a happy and fulfilling life. He would talk about Guldorand and his time as High Sheriff there, and I would meet Avalri when she visited. But she never spoke of my parents either.

She is there now, and perhaps I should pack my things and start with her if I am to understand these nightmares and learn about my own history.

[D4wN]

Blood and screams fill the air, fire raging all around. A woman and two children vanish into the flames. Helpless, I can only watch, and then... silence. I drift through a void of darkness and deafening quiet. I feel like I'm falling and wake with a scream, drenched in sweat, my heart pounding. It felt so real. I glance up at the bunk bed above, hearing the waves, creaking wood, and the sounds of sailors either sleeping or working. We should be nearing Arelith soon. Just a little longer. Whatever is wrong with me, I need to fix it before it consumes me. I have to find answers. As we get closer, something inside me shifts. An unexplainable power grips me. I'm scared, but determined. I will not let my father down.

[D4wN]

Blood kept flowing from the open wound on my arm, floating around me like tiny red orbs. I watched in wonder and confusion as the shimmering pearly red drops danced like magic. This was magic; there was no other way to describe it. I couldn't even remember how I got the wound. I had woken from another nightmare, and it was just there.

A few meters away, a man stared at me with bewilderment, perhaps even fear. I hadn't noticed him until now. His fear made him irrational and hostile, and I saw he held a knife used for rigging the sails. A sailor, then. What happened next was so quick it was over in a flash. The man lay there lifeless, covered in blood. I stared at my own hands in disbelief. Fear and panic gripped me as I trembled, and then I heard the first scream. Everything sounded distant, as if I were miles away. Blurry shapes of people rallied in front of me. This had to be another nightmare. I wanted to wake up, rocking back and forth, knees drawn up, and arms wrapped around them.

Suddenly, they grabbed and dragged me from the bed. I didn't resist; I was in shock. They bound ropes around me, tied me to a pole, and covered my mouth. I couldn't move, and all I could do was cry. They could have killed me but didn't. Instead, they left me until they tossed me from their ship onto the freezing island of Skal and abandoned me.

Alone and with no gold to my name, this wasn't how things were supposed to go. This wasn't Arelith; I had no idea where I was. Shivering from the cold, I fought back more tears. Taking a deep breath, I took my first steps into the village of Skaljard. I vowed never to hurt anyone again and to do everything I could to help others, to atone for what I had done.

[D4wN]

Gods, it's freezing here. This leather jacket just isn't enough anymore. No matter how much tea I drink, the only way to stay warm is by the fire. But I want to help people and I need to train to get stronger. Thrax and Lord Gregory need my assistance.

I'm determined, and I'm learning more and more that Skal is full of dangerous things. Mages roam the village with undead, even demons and devils. People seem offended, but they're too afraid to act. I dislike undead, especially the smelly ones. I'm conflicted. I don't want to hurt anyone, but I also don't want to be surrounded by these creatures every day or hear people whispering in fear of repercussions. Some of these mages look strong, but most of all, they seem united.

There's one I recently met whom I like a lot. She calls me a brave boy. I'm not a boy anymore—I'm eighteen. Still, it's nice to hear someone thinks I'm brave, even though I don't really believe it myself. I still wake from nightmares in fear, and I still fear my own powers. I have to find a way to master them so I don't accidentally hurt anyone.

Soon, I think I'll be ready to take a boat from Skal to Arelith and finally visit my aunt. I can't wait to see Guldorand and where my dad spent so many years. I'm thinking about becoming a guard there so I can help the city just like he did.

[D4wN]

She calls it the Magocracy. I'm not entirely sure what it means, but it appears to be a collective of mages who seek or celebrate knowledge and power. They stride through the village with their foul abominations, devils, and demons, as if they own the place. I can see fear in some villagers, though others are beginning to resist. The cold, chill air in Skaljard is thick with tension.

"A sacrifice should be offered," I hear in the distance. I glance up from warming my hands at the fire, trying to see who spoke. It's a man cloaked in darkness, trailed by a severed hand. I shiver briefly. This is our new reality. He's speaking with Lady Venderlin. She mentioned performing a ritual to help the island. Perhaps she isn't as malevolent as people say. I know nothing about rituals, but her intentions seem noble.

I've made new friends as well. The Wayfarers are kind people. Mister Storm and I get along well, and he's been helping me train. He believes I have the power to change, to turn away from the so-called 'blood arcana.' I asked if he would train me to become a Druid. The powers of nature seem far less terrifying than those of blood. Mister Storm seems wise, though much of what he says is still beyond my understanding. With time and patience, perhaps I will come to grasp it.

[D4wN]

The ritual is imminent. Shay is no longer an option, as Lady Venderlin has placed a bounty on Abigail. I am now the sole blood mage. She needs me. While it's gratifying to be needed, a sense of dread lingers, an unrelenting knot in my stomach. This ritual is deeply troubling.

The more I contemplate it, the less I want to proceed. My father would never approve of using me as a conduit to raise an army of the undead. I aspire to make him proud, but I am at a loss. Their forces, bolstered by undead, devils, and demons, are three times the size of an ordinary army. Direct confrontation is not an option; it would mean certain death.

Mister Storm has remarked on the strength of my power over lightning, possibly even surpassing the druids he has encountered. Sance suggests that invoking the lightning spirits might be enough to disrupt the necromantic energy the ritual requires, giving nature a fighting chance. I've always wanted to be a druid; perhaps this is my opportunity to prove myself. However, I've never participated in a ritual, let alone served as its conduit. What if my strength is insufficient?

Until the ritual begins, I must prepare and learn. The Wayfarers have offered their assistance. They are depending on me, placing their trust in me. The pressure is immense, and I fear letting them down due to my youth and inexperience. Yet, I think of my father and what he would have done. He would have saved the island. So, that is what I intend to do.

Lady Venderlin still refers to me as 'Brave Ser Ed,' unaware of my plan to thwart her. I feel a pang of guilt for my deception, as she has shown me kindness. Nonetheless, I cannot condone her actions. For the people of Skal, for the Wayfarers, and for my father, I will do this.

[D4wN]

I did it. I sabotaged the ritual. It was an arduous endeavor, and I suffered greatly for it. The spirits I summoned hurled me into the stone pillar behind me with such force that I swear I heard my bones crack just before consciousness slipped away. Yet, Lady Venderlin’s relentless commands pierced through the fog of pain, urging me to rise, to reclaim my place in the ritual. My breath was still ragged from the effort of carrying Morgan's lifeless body to the village shrine and bringing him back from the dead.

The Wayfarers, brave but foolish, attempted to thwart the ritual before it commenced. They never stood a chance, outnumbered and overwhelmed. In the chaos of the skirmish, I hid—not out of cowardice, but necessity. To reveal my true allegiance would have meant death at the hands of the Magocracy, and with it, the success of their dark ritual. I could neither protect the Wayfarers nor betray them. So I distanced myself until I could no longer hear the sounds of battle, then seized Morgan's body to save him. As soon as he was safe, I raced back, fabricating a tale of being pursued. Lady Venderlin, thankfully, believed my ruse.

Now I find myself here, my body a conduit for necrotic energies that sear my flesh and soul. The chanting of the other mages reverberates around me, their power funneling into my very being. I longed for the torment to end, but I had to see this through. The tattoos etched into my skin began to smolder, the stench of burning flesh filling my nostrils. Overwhelmed, I forced my mind to endure the agony, channeling my focus into the tattoos and summoning the lightning spirits just like Sance had suggested. The clash of natural and necrotic forces within me was excruciating. The growls of animals being slaughtered by the undead reached my ears, yet I remained paralyzed, helpless.

My life force waned, and in that desperate moment, Lady Venderlin clutched her gem, infusing me with renewed vitality. It was then that the dreadful truth dawned on me—I was not the guide, but the sacrifice. Fear gripped me as I realized I might never escape Skal, never uncover my true identity, never make my father proud. My end seemed inevitable, and with it, the rise of an undead army. I had failed.

But then, a miracle. The sound of an arrow slicing through the air, the shattering of the gem in Lady Venderlin’s hand. The crushing weight lifted, and I could breathe again. Though my arms were charred and my body broken, I heard a rumbling from the shrine before me. The energy gathered rapidly, prickling my skin. Summoning every ounce of strength, I rose and fled, leaving behind the horrors of the ritual and the undead hearing a giant explosion behind me.

I feared the Magocracy would discover my betrayal and hunt me down. But fortune favored me—they blamed everything on the mysterious archer. Without that intervention, I would surely have died. I wish I knew their identity, to offer my gratitude for saving my life.

In another stroke of fortune, the Mayor banished the Magocracy from Skaljard. A blessing, yet I could not remain on the island. Safety eluded me, as many still believed I was complicit with the Magocracy. Fearful of their vengeance, we had to leave. Our path now leads to Guldorand. At last, this particular nightmare is over...

[D4wN]

At long last, we have arrived in Guldorand. The journey has brought us—Lady Nymeria, Lord Nicolai, Cyali, Hakura, and myself—to the island of Arelith. We are like a family and I feel a profound sense of security and belonging with them. While my quest was initially driven by the need for answers and the hope of finding my aunt, I have discovered so much more along the way. Stepping onto the wet cobblestones of the port, I am overwhelmed with a sense of blessing as we take in the city's sights and search for a place to store our belongings.

Guldorand, though smaller than the grand Waterdeep, exudes a unique magnificence. As we made our way through the bustling streets, familiar voices caught my ear. There, in the square, stood Mister Tom, Shay, and Trot, who had arrived just a few days before us. The joy of reuniting with more friendly faces is indescribable.

It's surreal to think that my father once governed this place. Despite the strangeness, there's an uncanny familiarity to it all. Compared to Skaljard, Guldorand teems with life. Though exhausted from our journey, my excitement to explore and secure a home for us overcomes my weariness. After settling our things, I ventured out into the city and quickly found a small yet cozy house. It may be modest, but it offers a bed, and that is all we need. For now at least.

Anticipation fills me as I look forward to the next day. We plan to explore the surrounding lands and visit the neighboring Elven city, Myon. This new chapter feels like a grand adventure. Though the prospect of uncovering truths about myself brings a measure of fear, my eagerness to step into this new world is stronger. Joining the local Guard is a possibility I am considering, confident that my father would have approved.

This journey is just beginning, and I am ready to embrace whatever lies ahead.

[D4wN]

Tonight, I wandered down the empty streets of Guldorand. The distant calls of seagulls from the port punctuated the silence, mingling with the occasional rowdy shouts of patrons leaving the Lighthouse Inn. That seedy bar down the street, the one I always check during my patrols, was its usual self—filled with drunkards. Every time I step inside, the overpowering stench of alcohol and other, less identifiable scents assaults my senses. I despise this place and cannot fathom how anyone could call it entertainment. With the bar clear, save for the usual drunks, I continued my patrol.

As always, I made sure to check the area around the portal. It's supposed to be the hotspot for attacks, yet so far, I haven't encountered anyone with ill intentions here. With a heavy sigh, I wandered the streets, finishing my patrol, and stood for a few hours in the square. Everyone was either asleep or elsewhere, leaving the city lifeless and empty. Though Skaljard was much smaller, it felt livelier, more like a true community.

I keep working toward my promotion, but progress is slow. Despite completing all the required tasks and more, I'm still being told to attend additional training sessions. Our expedition to Mourn was uneventful, almost dull. With just one or two warriors by my side, the place poses no real challenge. I find myself longing for something that would truly test my skills. The encounter with the Red Dragon was closer to what I'd consider a challenge, especially with only two people. I also recall the giant demon in the Abyss; its size promised more than it delivered.

I will continue to wait patiently and give my best effort. But it's not just the battles that fail to challenge me. Intellectually, there's little for me here in Guldorand. I've heard of the Arcane Tower, but they seem to let anyone in, and there doesn't appear to be any serious lectures or research I could get involved in. Not like he suggested. The man I met the other day sparked my interest in researching various rituals—documenting components and participants, testing variables, understanding strengths and weaknesses. However, it seems our collaboration won't happen after all.

So, back to idly standing in the square...