Catalin Snow - A Cartographer's Winding Path

[LittleWeasel]

Various passions, various callings and choices within!
21, Ches, 97

I've been warned from him. I've had words of his violence. I've heard of his ways. Grogak. A Duergar of war and trade. Fueled by greed and power only, on his steady rise to the top of the Duergar Clan.
He jumped onto my maps with a thirst for knowledge rivaling my own. Purchasing two maps less than half a cycle ago, he returned to ask for more of my services. Since then, I've accompanied him thrice.

Yasdia has set a price for my maps – though he did order me to work for the Duergar for free, for he likes to see him allied and leading the Duergar clan for combined strength. I loath giving my maps up, just like that. But I have no choice. No longer. Whenever I just think of rebelling, the magic within the collar cuts into my breath with the memory of what the Seer could do to me. And so, I submit. Out of fear. This constant fear from their unpredictable actions - no matter, how hard one works, the whip is always quicker than the bread.

There is another slave down here, goes by the name of “Two”. Yasdia seems to use her for some of his services, though she is not “his”. I know, he wants her, but she belongs to another, for now.
She's been my shadow for the past fortnight or so, and when I went with Grogak, for some mapping, she was right there. She showed me other paths down here, I had not known before. We've had some quite philosophical conversations – and delving into her mind is as much interesting, as it is terrifying. She says, her true art is the art to harm, to maim, to kill. Her true skill, is death. Her true love is the destruction of a creature. Of life. She claims, I would have the talent for it. I recoiled.
Mayhap, at some point, I may have been callous enough, to disregard life. But ever since finding myself down here, and sneaking an hour or two up on the surface, just to feel the sun, just to hear the birds – to feel the wind around my nose... I recoil from the thought. How can destruction hold beauty? No, “Two” - I am not one for your path. My calling is creation. I'm an Artist. A painter. A map maker. My calling is creation.
I have to hold onto this. My calling is creation. If I lose this very credo, I will lose everything, that I ever was, everything, that I am. My calling is creation.

Weeks have gone by, and neither the elves, nor Yasdia made any leeway against one another. I don't even know if he ever followed my maps, or if the elves followed my heedings. I was stuck down here, with the occasional stint upward to gather more information I can safely share with the drow. There is not much, and I can feel not only Yasdia's impatience growing. He caught me the other day, with my map folder under my arm and demanded to look at it – he scoffed at them, and tossed them at the ground, carelessly.
Grogak said it when I first met him. The drow do not appreciate useful maps.
I need to keep breathing. My calling is creation.

[LittleWeasel]

*The next entry is a mess of phrases thrown together, scratched out in parts, littered without seeming order, penned with shaking hands. It bears no title, the ink is of a graying hue, as if her ink pot had almost dried up – a very clear indication, that quite a few “cycles” or months must have gone by without her having been able to write within, leaving of what has happened in those dark months unwitnessed by her journal's papers*

This place is breaking me. I've become afraid of my own shadow. Even when I manage to find myself without a task, and manage to steal a few hours beneath the sun... I'm addressed, I jump in fear. I can't even pretend anymore, to have some confidence. By the Traveler's graces, I don't know where my paths are leading me. I'm in over my head, and I'm losing myself. Being afraid, even up, under the sun, of others?
The unpredictability, and punishments out of nowhere... I can't evade them. I can't avoid them. I'm afraid, I'm starting to hallucinate. I feel watched, constantly. Even ordered to the surface at times, and bringing back maps does not instill me with peace any longer. How much longer will I be able to keep my life?

I'm scared... I"m scared... I'm scared ...


I want OUT! Someone help me... please...

*the bottom of the paper is smudged, as if heavy drops of some clear liquid had landed on them*

[LittleWeasel]

Desperation - How long is a cycle?
25, Kythorn, 97

I have never felt so dirty in my life. Inside out. The cusp of worthlessness... They use their power for most anything. Random drow, and Yasdia just shrugs it off, claims, I must have done something to deserve their treatment. Do I truly deserve it? Traveler, Rider of the Four Winds... where have I gone wrong, so utterly and completely, that all I am now, is a piece of flesh, discarded, without value?

Once, I was told, that when others show respect to a slave, it means they have respect for their owner. I wonder, if Yasdia is not taken seriously, not respected at all, and is merely a fluke 'neath his own peers? Even the Goblins' slaves receive more respect than I do. Yasdia's situation might be even more precarious than I first thought... Whatever... It does not change myself, my worth, my value. It is nothing.

Saw Judith today. She told me, the crew is trying to collect the coin to get me free. Is it truly worth it, still?
I'm not sure Yasdia is willing to sell me. But then, why would he wish to keep me, anyways? I can only hope his greed is larger than his want for maps and information, he keeps spitting in my face after anyways. Him, and his kindred.

Judith looks awful. She seems to give up more and more of herself and keeps talking about the Chained One, and how he will raze all living on Toril. She's powerful now...but her mind is tumbling into madness. She's still my friend, but she scares me. On one hand, I'd wish to set her against my tormentors here, on the other, I'd not wish to unleash her upon the world. Windrider, lend your Helping Hand, stay by me – more importantly, guide ~her~.

[LittleWeasel]

Changes!
27, Eleasis, 97

One easily falls into the trot of work, sleep, tasks fulfilled down here. Mappings for Grogak – he gives me a tiny bit of coin for them, a mockery, really, but at least he keeps showing his appreciation for my creations.

There is no sun to guide ones hours, no understanding for times past and little feeling for moons, or seasons. Everything flows in the same measure. And yet, there are many changes. Yasdia seems to have turned his ambitions from the surface to this still-new city down below and has become the councilor of the Devil's Table. And yet, mayhap because of this, there is much strive and contempt between the citizens of this city. Odd dynamics.

One Jharrik put a bounty of a million coins on Yasdia's head. So far, it has not affected my life down here, but that does not mean it won't. I have to remain wary and cautious. Zharrik - "Two"s owner seems dead. Technically, “Two” - Yasdia called her Salindra - now is between owners, and I know he wants her for his own. She is an odd one. I think, she may have been born somewhere in the Underdark. She moves well with and around shadows though, as if they were second nature. I wonder if there is not more to her than it seems. She keeps asking me, whether I'd like to learn her Assassination skills. I have no interest in that though. Sadly, she seems to be constantly nearby. It has become hard for me to contact the Crew. Somehow, I'll make it happen though. Hope they didn't forget me.

I am beyond the point of relying on them for my freedom though. Whenever I could, I funneled some coin into an extra account. It is linked to Robert's with the some thirty thousand I had transferred to him early on. I have almost eighty thousand in there now. A pittance, considering, there is rumors that the Slave Master can be bribed with half a million coins. It'll be a lifetime, before I will call the sunlands my home again...

Not all is bleak though. There are even those, that would treat one such as me with respect. And care. It turned my whole world picture upside down though, to learning the hard way, that Goblins, Kobolds and Gnoll are sentient, intelligent creatures. I've learned much about them. Kish'rin, the harsh, but just trader with the hard hand, but quick reward – honourful, a Gnoll. Having seen her example, I had to shift my perception. If I ever am back beneath the sun, I likely will question my inherent approach. Never again, will I be lightheartedly loosen my arrows against her kin.

An unlikely help I've found beneath the scalers. Kindness, at the hand of a gray-scale. Again, respect under the hand of another. A tinker, who said, he had been studying the collar's magics, and continues to study them.
Working together, him on my clamp, might yet lead to results. We'll meet again...

One of the female Kobolds wandering the caves even struck me as particularly beautiful – who'd have thought I'd ever say this, about such creatures. She calls herself “Gem”. I hope one day, for her, she will be in her rightful place, without the slave clamp around her form. (Did I really just pray for freedom of one of the scalers?... This place indeed... changes one... )

[LittleWeasel]

*The writing is harsh, her normally elegant scribbled ragged lines, at times so deep, the paper shows tears and scratch marks*

Rage and Disappointment!
15, Eleint, 97

They want to pressure me to becoming what they are. Thugs. Murderers. Killers. I will not. No matter how low I will have to sink, I will not ever spill blood for coin. Does not mean, I won't spill blood if it saves my own life, but I will not sell myself. I am not a hired blade. I am a cartographer. And I am valuable at what I do. My art is valuable. My creations. They cannot turn me into their mirrors. They want to play a game? By the Wind-Rider, I swear, I will give them a game. One day, I'll see them burn. All of them. And I swear, by all that the Helping Hand holds me accountable to, it will be my art – creation – that will bring them down!

CREATION IS MY CALLING!!!

*the last sentence is written so harshly, the paper is torn in places, the ink splotched, as if the very quill broke with which it had been written, and strongly underlined.*

***

*On newer paper, mayhap, a newly made painting is tucked between the pages, showing a Duergar in full armour*

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The drawing fills the entire paper, dark, glistening coal flowing seemlessly into silver-glittering sheen of carefully applied Mithril-Dust seems to be the technique used. 

A duergar, in heavy armour stands centered, next to a crystal ball, a tall shield by his side, a long staff with a glowing bauble on the top leaning over his right shoulder. Aquamarine and Opal gemdust has been used to add a deep purplish-blue hue to the staff. 
The armour is depicted in flowing lines, shadows and runes copied meticulously. Noticeable is the billowing cloak behind him, every fold drawn so, that it complements the armour, following its lines. Despite the elegant, lines, thanks to the added mithril glitter, there is strength in the armour, in the pose. Pride in the Duergar whose features remain hidden behind a heavy, yet graceful helmet.
Next to him, a small glowing orb on a pedestal is drawn - or hinted at; the glow in the impressive armour seemingly coming from the light emanating from the round bauble. 
His surroundings, are blurred, bringing a sharp focus on the proud Duergar.

[LittleWeasel]

A Trade gone awry!
20, Eleint, 97

It was yet another day - Windrider, without the sun and stars to guide me, I cannot tell how much time passed, but I think it's been another full moon, if not two, spent in nothing, but tiresome routine, gruelling tasks below and lots of grovelling in its wake. I dare not perk up, or draw attention to myself and so I live in oblivion of all else about me, save for a few moments of brightness in my life, onto which I hold dearly, and which I then memorize in secret, in my quiet corner within the library's printing room whenever I can steal away. Monotonous and gray has my turns become, and so it is even the moments of pain I started to grasp on to, for they show me, that I yet live.

Yasdia sent me up to the surface. His interests yet again, have changed. He seems to have become suspicious of my Arelith Forest maps, and his attention has turned to the Bramble. He scrutinizes my tasks tighter and demanded a map of the Brambles, and more importantly of the Outpost, the Bramble Watch has created. Also, he wanted to know the Watches affiliations. I've spent some time within the Brambles, but did not see anyone. The one time, I heard noises – Windrider, forgive me, but I will not make it too easy for the drow – I turned away. For one, I had no wish and desire to be stared at, the way they do these days, when those walking 'neath the sun see me with a collar around my neck, and for another, I did not ~want~ to find out about the Bramble's Associations.

I broke my evening in Wharftown. It's still the place, I am most familiar with. Khayal has taken over the Wharftown Militia and Guard. One Amana Tarrynth is now the Mayor of Wharftown. By the township's cotton fields, I ran into Martin, the Goblin's slave. In the meantime, in our shared misery we had met a while ago, and once in a while, we share kind words to one another. The poor man, really gets the worst out of it. He was green, and blue in the face, his right eye swollen shut, and his jaw so stiff, he could barely talk. Punished, by drow for the tasks his Goblin-Owners sent him to... Wish I could help him somehow. Mayhap, there is yet a way. Anyways, his state showed me, just how lucky I was compared to the other slaves. Yasdia not only “allowed” me up here beneath the sky, but regularly “ordered” me to come up. And like a good puppy, I lap at he opportunity.

I have learned by now, that Cordor is a place, where the collar's magics do not work. I've also learned, that some of us use this for a refuge, and that there is an Ilmatarian Priest – the very guard I once had this heated discussion about my reputation over the mix up with Catelyn Winters – Traveler, it feels like it's been eons ago! …Ken Thoss. He's involved in providing save haven for slaves, works on getting folks together to free them. I managed to contact him, and him, knowing he now has me “on the inside” seems to have renewed his spirits in the efforts.

Martin, however, this time said, he had heard of me venturing up again, and needed to talk to me. He had followed me, to warn me of Skulash negotiating for me, Natana readying her "Training Tools" to break me. Natana – more and more often, she's been used to “break” other slaves. To make sure, they'd know exactly what “their place was”. I know, she's been doing some experiments. Necromancy and other dark rituals. Yet, to me, she has always been kind. I don't want to believe, she'd do anything to harm me, and yet, Martin's fear at least caused me to worry.

We went back down below together and were barely through the portal when Yasdia used the slave caller on me. By all that is holy in the name of the Helping Hand! The Pain! It is, as if your very soul was wrenched through the metal, crunched through a meat grinder, and then spat back out. Whenever that magic envelops me, it takes me days to get rid of the pain and stiffness within me.

I found myself within one of the pools in the slave pits. The water pooled up to my knees and stank of excrements, and vomit of other poor souls within this pit before me. Natana was next to me, furious. Yasdia had another with him. He introduced him as his father, and then continued speaking, confirming the words Martin previously had given me. However, the trade did not go through. Skulash had refused the price named. Refused, to trade me for Natana and some gold, for Natana was the most profitable “thing” he had.

At least, I knew where I stood. In no way shape or form would I wish to become that sort of tool – a mere trading token? Yasdia was furious at Natana for talking back and ordered me to draw my bow, to shoot at her, teach her a lesson. Windrider, I was scared. Scared of Yasdia, but even more scared of hurting Natana, who, throughout it all always had kindness for me, offered me shelter, tended me when I needed it. Next to Martin, she was, what came closest to having a friend down there. I could not draw my bow against her.

My trembling, my panic and fear, I did not have to fake. I pulled my bow then, my hands shaking so much, I could not fasten the string. The Wood clattered into the dirty water, sinking into its depths. Yasdia ordered me to fish it up – and I felt for it, pushed it between my legs and “stumbled” over it. The bow broke then, made useless. Furious, Yasdia turned his back, walking away, dismissing us with disgust.

I rather him be disgusted at us, than me having to kill Natana. I still tremble at the thought of the repercussions of what he might do to me, once he has me alone. But so far, he has not looked back and just walked away.
Together, Natana and I climbed out of the cesspit and washed off. For once, the cold water of the “showers” was welcome, for it numbed the terror inside me.

Yasdia was nowhere to be seen, Natana went in search of Skulash. She knew, what I went through, to not hail her with arrows, and thanked me. She saw my bluff. I think, she'll bide her tongue. Traveler, I pray she will!
I went to the hub to send a Goblin to Robert and Khayal – then found myself a corner to curl up in. For just a few hours, I wanted to forget where, and what I was.
WHO I was, anymore, I had long lost sight of....

[LittleWeasel]

A Year of Freedom!
23, Eleint, 97

The message I had sent with the Goblin late last night, must have sounded more desperate, than I had intended it to. Khayal and Robert came down below in the morning. I saw them both in the hub. They were under guise, and had Robert not given them away to me, in silence, I'd not have recognized them.
They asked where Yasdia lived, and I pointed them the right way, shaking – what did they plan?

They spoke not a work. Robert stayed with me, like a shadow. It felt like the longest hours of my life, before Khayal came back out of Yasdia's house. Even Robert grew restless and worried. That, I think, scared me more than the wait itself?
When the Captain finally walked back out, he only grunted, and beckoned us to follow. We used the hub's portal to the Stonehold Ruins – my pleas with the elves had helped, they stopped warding the portal, even though, my reasons for it have changed. It helps me, to convey information to them. But by now, I couldn't care less about it anymore.
Shall it be sealed. I've been cured of my incessant curiosity regarding the caverns below, and the Drow's machinations. The more stones in their ways, the better. How could I once have been so callous, as to care only for my own profit?
Anyways, I digress. They pointed toward Wharftown, and only when we were safely aboard the Liberator, did Khayal spill.

He had traded Zharrik's head for a year. (Up to that point, I had not realized, it was him who had slain the man!) I knew, it was probably one of the few, if not the only token Yasdia would have accepted in trade for me, for while the Drow seemed to still loath trading me away, there was one thing he wanted so much more than me: Salindra.
With her owner's head to show, he will have much more leeway over her. Once more, I found my heart breaking a bit – tingeing. Salindra despite her views on life (or non-views?), despite her actions, even up to the point where she and Grogak tried to force me into their path by fueling my hatred and anger with the destruction of my art – despite all this, she always was a shadow to me. Frightening and watchful at once, as protection. Again, I find myself torn in the dilemma of hoping for good within a persons heart, fearing that person and despising her actions. What does that make me?

For now, it means one year of freedom. One year of sky, sun and wind! One year of Ocean spray and snow. One year of rain and thunder. One year of bliss. One year of Gratitude!

I pray to the Rider of Winds and his allied pantheon with all my heart, that in that year we find a way to remove my clamp. The price for all this, I am not once to step foot beneath the surface. I gladly will submit to that. I don't think I ever again want something between the sun, stars, the moon and my skin.

*The last line on this page sits slightly apart, as if added as a late afterthought, the writing firm though, in thick lines highlighting the grimness of its meaning*

Had Yasdia hurt either one of them, Khayal or Robert, I'd have accepted Salindra's offer.

[LittleWeasel]

Three moons later...
8, Hammer, 98

I've been slacking. I've had no time to write, or ponder, since Khayal struck that deal with Yasdia. Things have been... exhilarating, wonderful, crushing, confusing, lively... I can't find enough words to convey the last months. At first, I felt very lost beneath the open sky, did not know how to behave around people.

One thing, the Underdark teaches is to never trust. Ever. And being afraid, despite it all, of betrayal even by those, I hold dear is excruciating and not fair toward them. I know, Helene d'Arque, one of the Waymen, doesn't like me – for whatever reason. She neither trusts me, nor wishes to see me especially close to Judith.
Judith has bloomed. Seeing me “free”, and back to her side has restored much, much of her good spirits. It scares me, and awes me at the same time, to be held in such high regards by someone, that I can affect the very will to live by my presence alone. Truthfully, it scares me more, than it awes me. It is a responsibility I have never born before.
She looks much better again, but I'm afraid she might be too far gone, to ever return to her old self. She's still only a shadow of her former self.

Last month, I've met a man, priest. Thaddeus is his name, and he snapped at me, for my sour mood, my brisk demeanor. I've since managed to put a mask of unrelenting joy onto my face. I don't think, there is anyone who even suspects the constant fear and loss, I still feel. I've become good at faking emotions.

I have managed to raise one hundred thousand coins. Four hundred thousand more to go. Neither Khayal nor Robert offered coin themselves and I will not ask it of them. This, for one, is my own burden to carry and I owe them much already as it is.

I've sold a lot of maps, and met Euclio Cartan, whom I only later learned is the husband of Amana, Wharftown's mayor. There had been a war between Cordor and Wharftown, thanks to the Dominion under Sencliff who had brought Roland Asen, Gil'thilak and Vonevar into their fold. Folks from Wharftown could not travel to Cordor, and Cordorians were not welcome in Wharftown. It was a mess, but it taught me well, the importance of neutrality once more.

It was difficult for Amana and everyone else involved to follow business as usual, but normalcy is returning to town. Also, I've become one of the go-to carpenters of the town. It is good, I am busy and it keeps me from brooding. Shad'remar is a brooding mage, charismatic in his own regard, but very, very... I don't know how to describe him, really. Gloomy? Emotional? Depressed? He's the trade minister and managed to bring more business to me. Aside from giving me lots of work, he often shows up just to talk. His live-in partner is Cordorian Guard Zenia, and he often comes to me, just to talk about her, sometimes asking advice. Oddly enough, I know nothing about relationships with other people. Why would he come to me?

Anyways... I'm enjoying the day to day buzz very much, and I do not have to think about my emotions. Gideion and Ossian are two scholars I've met and enjoy traveling with. They once blurted out, that Thaddeus has taken a shine on me. It's an odd sensation, that someone thinks so highly of me, though
I have to doubt it. Today, he was very distracted, didn't even stay with me and turned to leave in a hurry. I either have offended him in some way, or he has changed his mind about our friendship. I have to admit, it is an odd coloured one, tinged, much like with Judith, given his interests. Yet, he speaks much of balance between life and death, and so far is engaged in studying, rather than practicing what he learns. None the less... I don't mind listening to his ramblings, though some of it reminds me too much of Salindra, and brings back my small credo, the one, that helped me through the constant shadows down below. Creation is my calling. Try as I might, even if he did have those feelings, I cannot find any within me. Not for him, not for anyone – not even for myself can I hold much love.

[LittleWeasel]

News from below!
12, Hammer, 98

I've met one of the very, very few people from down there, I still hold trust for. He came with a whole bundle of news, secreting his way up, to meet me. Yasdia has fully purchased Salindra now and she has been seen rarer and rarer these days. The worrysome one is Natana. Apparently, her experiments have been bearing fruit and she's turning harder, angrier. He said, she smells of acid, tries to turn her skin to stone and seems less human. I feel horrible, as if I had abandoned her. In a way, I think, I may have...

It also makes me feel horrible, when talking to this particular one. Him, having to go back down, and me sitting happy like a pig in mud in my bed, writing and drawing with no other care in the world. I need to get this collar off and my foundation started. I really have to talk to Ken Thoss – about my wish to create an organization working on freeing as many slaves, smuggling them up as I can... Maybe then, I have a chance of helping those, where I was too late to save Natana or him... May the gods be with me in this and hold my heart.

He left me with a warning of a man calling himself The Riscourve. He gave me a detailed description of the man, and I tried to draw him. I must have hit it quite close, for he shuddered, when he saw it. I will not see him anytime soon again, I fear. It is too dangerous for him. It was yet, one of the hardest good byes I've ever had.

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The Riscourve - A drawing of a Cyricist


The Riscourve
The drawing is hastily fashioned, the edges slightly blurred, as if out of focus, It seems, the drawing was either done from memory, or maybe a description, rather than something the artist had seen herself. It's a scene of a man, standing calmly leaning on a staff. 
His expression is hidden behind a helmet formed out of a skull, horns portruding from its sides. The man is clad in black, long robes flowing down his form. His arm peculiarly are free, the sleeves torn, his skin glistening white, as if moonlight enhanced the bright skin.
His left hand is raised slightly, in a casting gesture. The magical waves of time stopped floats about his form, while fire seems to sprout from around his feet. A cloak is billowing in the wind behind him. 
The mark of the Dark Sun can be clearly seen between the drawn folds of the cloak. In the background, a drawing of a silhouetted banshee can be seen, as she straightens herself, ready to scream, her expression luring, yet haunting. Next to her, almost as if hidden in the translucent shadows stands a woman with black hair, cropped short.

[LittleWeasel]

Is spring over yet?
14, Hammer, 98

When Robert first brought me back to Wharftown, he introduced me to his Second in Command, Balthias Cracker. A reliable wayman, fantastic cook and charming, always smiling, young man. Over the last weeks, not only has he offered me shelter, and security, but also more than that: time and care.

Balthias has proven to be a true and steadfast friend. I've trusted him with words, that surprised even myself, when I spoke them, and yet, they were true. He is a good one to talk to and I enjoy spending time with him. I wish I could help him with his predicament, but alas, I cannot fix the world, and least of all can I fix people's hearts (HA! Good one, given that my own is as cold as stone!)

What I can do, is fashion the painting he craves so much for - I have to find the monk again to get a better look at him, to properly portray him. Balthias' will be easy. I've spent much time around him, and learned to care for him in ways I never thought possible. If he is not brother of my blood, he is a brother of my heart. I think, he is the first person in my life, that I dare call “family”.

He fights better and with more confidence every time I see him anew and I am glad to see him flourishing so greatly. Truly, I am grateful to Robert for so many things, but having me meet Balthias is very high on the list. I could not wish for a better friend – now, if I just could see him happy, and his love returned?

So many, I've met suffer of this unreciprocated love, and I'm afraid, I might be the cause of one of those myself. Not because I love, but because someone is falling for me. I think, the rumors might be true, and Thaddeus ~is~ falling for me. I hate to hurt him, for his a kind and intelligent man, despite his affiliations of faith.
But I cannot feel the same for him, even though rumors have started floating about town we were not just a couple, but married (I'm going to wring that person's neck, whoever spreads those rumors!).

No, I have no time for any kind of companionship and the drama that comes with it. It will only hurt. It will complicate things. It will destroy each one of us, if the year goes by and there has been no step closer to my freedom. It will only hurt deeper, if I fail to remove that bloody collar. Also, I think it's just infatuation, for whoever could love a face like mine, with a burden like mine, and the drive to wander like mine. No... I have to remain distant and not encourage anything at all. I need my independence like a bird needs his wings!

[LittleWeasel]

Pacts & Consequences!
20, Hammer, 98

Not that I ever understood her, since her first binding in particular, but there was never any doubt within my heart, that Judith cared for me. Or I for her. But less than ever, do I understand Judith these days. She always seems under immense strain and tension. And something else. Something black. Some drive. I can't explain it, but it scares me. She's about the Chained One, and speaking of the destruction, she will bring her forth, the end of all, soothes her like nothing else. Everything in her live, has turned toward that one goal of releasing “The Chained One” whoever, or whatever it is... The path to that, seems to be thankfully long, and winded but steadily forward. Windrider, guard me – guide me, I've this deep sitting fear, that one day, I may have to chose between my friend, and any means possible to stop her from unleashing her wrath upon our earth...

What is she up to? She has become a master of disguises and has assorted a set of friends that don't trust me, don't like me. I don't care much about them either. But I do care about the friend, that I once had in Judith. Does she even remember? She seems to breath easier, in the moments she sees me, though I know not why.
She warms, around me and while she still has an aversion to being touched as she always had, we have over the years (has it truly been that long?) developed a small ritual, where we show our closeness by tucking on each others sleeves. She hangs on my sleeve for long moments then, needing the nearness, without daring to contact. I am torn with pain, Judith. I fear you as much as I pity you... and I miss you even more than that!

She has made some more pacts and deals it seems. One of them with one Adoamrous Craulnober. He speaks the drow language fluently and with the powers shifting once more up in Wharftown, he seems to prepare his retreat into the Underdark. He, too is a master of his disguises and poses as a drow merchant or something like that. Judith poses as his slave. I know not to what end, but I saw how it scared Judith. And if it scares her? What else can happen?

When I did another furniture delivery for Shad'remar Eomal, he himself warned me of the danger Judith has become. Am I truly supposed to give up on her? Forsake her?
As much as everyone keeps telling me, that I have to, I cannot. For if those up here would have forsaken me, I'd still be rotting in the drow's cells right now... No, I will not give up hope quite yet. My sailor lass Judith, friend, and woman I've admired for a long time still has to be in there, somewhere within her heart, if mayhap not soul. Please, please don't let me be wrong, Windrider! Give your Helping Hand?

[LittleWeasel]

Maps in Cordor & The fight against Slavery
27, Hammer, 98

I've spent much time, selling my maps, and slowly, but steadily my small pile of coin is growing. About time as well, for I can see the year dwindling rapidly before me. I am still far off my goal, but I am not hopeless. The maps I sold to the Oghmite Temple – and to Gideion Croix – I have found later on display within a public temple. Why I am proud, that my work is displayed thus, seeing the paths to the Underdark laid open as they are strikes me with fear. Anyone could just follow them, and end up in my stead! Clamped. Enslaved. No! That is something, I cannot have on my shoulders.

I managed to convince Euclio to remove the maps to the Underdark from public view and only show them on request - and then to make sure, none makes a copy. It is too dangerous to just have about anyone wander down there.

He then also was the first I confided in, trying to free myself and start a rescue mission for slaves down there. He said, Ken Thoss, an Ilmarite cleric had ideas along the same lines. I have to talk to him.

Thinking about it more and more though, and hatching a plan, I might need a person "on the inside". A slave. I doubt Martin would be willing or able to be that one. And he really deserves a break anyways. We'll see how things go. I wonder, if in the end, it may have to be myself having to stick it out with that bloody collar, stay down there to help as many others but me flee...
But am I really willing to sacrifice my life under the sun for it?

[LittleWeasel]

The Tinker
30, Hammer, 98

I've met my tinkering, unexpected friend again – He said, he found out more about the collar and began twiddling with it. The magical backlash of the thing nearly tossed him against the nearest cavern wall, and I... well, I wasn't able to talk louder than a whisper for almost three days. The thing tore at my throat, as if it was trying to tear it out of my very neck...

I really need to find and talk to Vonevar. He had claimed of knowledge of the collars. And soon. Time seems to be running out for my tinkering friend more, than for myself. I shouldn't really care for him, but he has proven overly helpful, constantly putting himself in harm's way. I have to at
least attempt to help him. And truly, in the process, it's helping myself get out of this clamp, too...

*That last entry ends abruptly with a large ink splotch dotting the remainder of the page as if the writer had jumped up and poured the remaining ink over the sheet by accident*

[LittleWeasel]

Better dead, than a slave?
15, Ches, 98

What's it going to be? How can a man, who claims he cares for me offer to cut my throat, for this would be better than being caged? Is life itself worth so little? But then... what else should I expect from someone heralding a god of death more than of life?

I've always been like a cat. I landed on my feet. No matter what. I make the best out of it. And yes, slavery is certainly not what I wished my life to be. But with Ken in Cordor, trying to aid as many slaves as he can, and me promising my own aid where I can, I have no right throwing my life away just because I don't like the hand dealt me. No... for as long, as they don't find a way to break my spirit, my will and my fight... for a s long as they do not use my friends against me, I shall keep fighting.

One day, I will get rid of this collar, one way or another and will be free again. And for that, I will live. Thaddeus... I can't and won't afford myself to think about him. If he thinks, death is as valid as freedom, he fell for the wrong woman (he did anyways, but less than ever, can I even feel a growing chance in me ever turning to what seems to be his definition of “love” … What an infatuation).

I value my life and I will fight for it! If that means turning away those, I thought of as “friends” - then as painful as it is, so be it. I'm sorry, Thaddeus – I don't expect you to understand, but I hope, one day you will respect my decision. Until then, I will just remain living. Somewhere. And fighting. Somehow.

[LittleWeasel]

The way to damnation...
29, Mirtul, 98

One of these last evenings, Shad'remar Eomal wished to speak with me. What a twist... Shad'remar came to me (of all people, unattractive, little old me), to ask for relationship advice with Zenia... Well, at least I am still a woman and could go from there.

I learnt more about Shad'remar in this one nightly trip, than I ever thought possible. He is a strikingly handsome young man, despite his bodily weakness - he walks with a limp, and is very, very slim. He is charismatic though, so I can see, why many women would fall for him. He opened up to me, trying to find the source of his troubles with Zenia.
Even to me, they became obvious fairly fast. He describes it as "his condition". I understand the attraction, he asserts on women - and he uses this, whether he knows it or not. He is an attractive man, and I am for once grateful for my collar, for I am not sure could I have withstood, when he opened up, waking every maternal 'wanting to comfort' instinct I never knew I possessed...

As it is, he made a pact with Pale Night and any woman would be second in his life, behind the demon. He is yet, another Judith for me. But at least, it cured me from ever wishing to be more than “just a friend” (though I found those more valuable, than any lovers' cares I've ever seen) … Though with him, I have a feeling, even friendship will be fleeting, and very shallow for he is in the process of not breaking himself, but those that end up truly caring for him.
However, I do understand Zenia and their relationship troubles much better now...

It reminded me of an old song, I once found, deep within the Guild's historical archives. I know not its music, nor its voice, but I know its words well for they were vividly recalled, when following Judith' and Shad'remar's path. I think, the bards' name was Cuirina from lands so long gone, and so distant, I could not even find maps about in the oldest sections of their library.
I'll likely spend the night painting.

[LittleWeasel]

*A detailed, coloured sketch for a painting in three parts is tucked inbetween the pages, carefully folded - unfolded, one would look at the makings of an elaborate Triptych.*

The first part of the painting displays a scene, surrounded by deep Ocean blue.

Code: Select all

Powerful waves play with the hull of a large ship. Sails billow in the wind, ropes lash around strong masts. The Crow's Nest bears a flag with Khayal's Jolly Roger, a skull with two flint-lock revolvers crossing beneath its jaw. All of this, however seems to have been painted slightly blurry, as if out of focus, the lines all drawing toward the center.

Sharply in focus, a young woman hangs suspended, carried over by wind and ropes only. The left arm stretched out, a rope coiled about her wrist, legs elegantly stretched behind her. Her right arm is stretched backward, a rope whisking away from the hand, as if just
 having let go of it moments ago. Full of elegance, the young woman wears practical, but colourful leathers with confidence. Her dark-chestnut hair has a red hue to it, large, magenta feathers braided within. On her waist, a small silver chain hangs with different
 baubles and trinkets attached. Some seem to be polymorphed animals, others just items of mementos and memory. 

The woman's face is drawn with an expression of elation, confidence and happiness, as if a joyous song was on her lips, as she rides the wind, flirts with the ocean and dances with the sails about her.
Vivid colours, shimmering gem-dust, and cleverly used perspective gives the impression of live-like movement, as if boat, ocean and the woman, recognizable as Judith Feathermane would dance right into the viewer's life.

Blurred, in the background, almost as an overlay it seems, like an old painting having been painted over, and yet integrated into the scene.
Uptop, half hidden by billowing sails, on the boat stands a young, handsome man with raven-black hair.
His leg is twisted off in an odd angle and he wears rags for clothing, much like a street urchin in the slums of a big city would wear. His eyes are most vivid and alive. Troubled, yet filled with deep longing for something unattainable, yet, with unbroken will and strong ambition. A young Shad'remar Eomal, on the verge of remaining a forgotten soul in some corner of the world, or turning a corner, and into something much, much stronger....

The second part of the painting is a poem, or mayhap song, written in flowing words, cursive, the letters trailing off, leaving a sense of longing impressed.

Code: Select all

Once - so endlessly long ago, there was a time
Where the sun shone bright, the skies were wide
Once - the light was near, and by my side
And I was prepared to fight its fight!

Once - life was filled with warmth and pride
Now it seems gone - left fast, forgotten.
Like a summer breeze on a mountain wide
Now it is gone - hope has rotten. 

Now - Nothing but Frost
Darkness I call home
Dimmed whispers ring from tombs
cold words written in stone; 
I am not dead, yet every inch of life in my heart has gone

Once - there was the light, I served
in fairness and justice I battled late
respect and admiration I was adhered
I fought without fear for my fate

Once - I was bright and pretty, my laughter clear and loud
And now, I barely remember, memory veiled in thick cloud
I was loved, bore a ring on my hand.
My faith ran deep, until so suddenly it was bland.

Now - I look at the mirror
My hands have rotten
My grimace full of terror
No one can bear my sight
A scent around me fills the air
so sweet, bitter - a blight
My body falters in despair

Once - I knew what for I stood
Why the weapons guided my foot
Fight for freedom, justice and right
I was happy, for I did it with pride.

Once - I don't know how long ago could it be,
Even I lost the light, the beam, that was me.
Every hope around me turned to dust.
I lost my faith - had only lust. 

Now, I am forsaken
Am not living, am not gone
My eyes have dimmed, 
my blood has rotten,
My pride not quite broken.

I have chosen a new goal for life
Revenge and Hatred now be my wife!
Battle and War, Pain without sway - 
I swear, these alone will be my way!

The third part of the triptych shows a bleak, dying forest, held in dark, brown, gray tones, ruined buildings framing the canvas and storm clouds billowing above.

Code: Select all

A woman, and a man standing within dying branches and bushes, back to back, expressions vacant, tormented, unaware of each others' presence. 

The woman, clad in rags, hair hanging down in strands, hands blood stained and eyes distant and distracted, bloodshot. Even though, still clearly recognizable as Judith Feathermayne, the only thing tying the woman to the one within the sails is the silver-buckled chain belt around her waist, displaying a selection of mementos and anthropomorphous animals. Her hands are raised, midchant, and she stands with her hand on a staff, elongated, rotten wood, maggots and worms crawling up and down its full length.

The man, stunningly handsome, windswept hair, stands with straight shoulders. He is tall, and while he seems to favour one leg, he seems to be in his prime and full health. His skin is pale and his hands luring, with long, fingers and well cared for nails. He wears form fitting clothing of silk, displaying just enough of his chest to show a wiry upper body beneath. 
The only torment in the man is shown in his deep, brown, dark eyes as they stare at the painting's viewer with the haunted terror only brought on by relentless nightmares.

[LittleWeasel]

Slave-Smuggle
26, Eleasis, 98

I've contacted as many as I dared. A fine network is in place, to smuggle slaves, unwilling to be slaves longer from Andunor to Cordor, where they'll receive save haven. I am positive, things will work out well, and if the Tinker keeps up his research, we might just be able to crack the runes one day.

Nym and her Dragonshield Mercenaries agreed to take part, being paid for reacting upon a call to escort those that wish to be from the Nexus Fall Passages into the Pax Cordoria. Ken Thoss will house them in Cordor. The councilor Hawklight also will offer his hand in save-housing for the slaves.

Now, I just need mayhap a bit more of redundancy and contingency in case something goes wrong. I will have to talk to the elves once more. Seril and Mithrim. They, too, expressed their wishes to remain updated.

Through Euclio, I also met a mage who moonlights as a slave trader. Her name's Billie – and is also one of Judith' friends. Where Judith calls me “Dove”, she calls Billie “Mouse”. She told me, Judith got herself collared and is now in quite the pickle. I feel responsible for that, at least in parts, for I knew how eager she was to save me from them.

Judith... she causes me so much terror in one breath, and so much hope in another. I'm still not giving up on her... But why... do I attract those folks, with those issues? Judith and her pacts? Shad'remar and his? I want nothing to do with their magics, their demons, their pacts, and yet... I feel pity for them, and grief for the people they must have been before these bonds ... It pains me.

One person keeps popping in and out of the sidelines of my crazy life. Elora. A huntress, mayhap hunted herself. I was approached by others, to attempt to keep an eye on her. I am not a spy. I am a map maker, and she has always been kind and respectful to me. Who am I, to betray her? I did bide my tongue and soon learned from herself, she knew, who watched her and why. I left it at that. It is pleasant to know though, that there is one out there, that looks beyond the collar, and we can just sit and chat idly about the sun going down without being drawn into major discussion of live's complications, of her burdens, or mine. I hope, she will find her place. She always seems so lost to me, and I wish I could offer shelter – or more than just fleeting friendship in passing.

My year is nearly over, and my funds nowhere near where they need to be. I am slowly coming to terms with having to return down there, without a step the wiser. The only consolation is knowing, that somehow, we will be able to aid others in my shoes. Find a way to break the collars. Find a way to Freedom. No matter what happens now, I will not be alone in my task. Euclio and Ken will drive it from up here. I know many paths from down there, to up here. I will be able to keep the contacts going.

Creation is my Calling. … I've added the Creation of Freedom to my tasks. May the Helping Hand extend its guidance and blessing!

[LittleWeasel]

The Year is Over
28, Eleasis, 98

Yasdia summoned me back, just as I was about to go with Evana. I had not seen her in so long, and there was so much to speak about... Also, I had almost hoped Yasdia had forgotten about me, but I knew, deep down, he would not. I expected it any day now, it still came as a shock. I hate it though. The pain, the Hub, the stench, the mushrooms... and instantly, I remember the capricious arbitrariness of the others here.

Another slave was beaten to death within the hub. Moments before Yasdia walked me through there. It scares me. He dragged me to his house, opposite the temple, and instantly the memories returned, to how many beatings I have received, waiting in front of Yasdia's house, by his orders, spied by other drow, beating me for transgressing being too close to their temple... Instantly, the constant terror looming between my shoulder blades returned and I dreaded what “my master” had concocted for me this time.

What came next, came as a surprise. Yasdia ordered me back to the surface. He ordered regular payments, and information on Roland Asen. I'll gladly comply. I need someone to work with though. I wonder, if Vors would be helpful? Vonevar, once again?
I start to think, Yasdia is a strong, and cunning man, but not highly smart, or wise in his choices. Does he have more slaves like me? What makes him trust me enough, to keep sending me beneath the sun, so secure, that I would not plot against him?

I need to go back topside and talk to the folks, but I also have to stay down here a while, to find out, who wants, or needs my help. First, I have to send message to Nym and Euclio. I dread going back into the hub...

[LittleWeasel]

Juggling information, juggling people!
11, Eleint, 98

Thankfully, reporting on Roland is an easy task. There are so many hateful messages about him strewn all over the public boards, all over towns, I was able to satisfy Yasdia with the knowledge composed by it, without giving away any of my own connections and contacts to folks associated with him. I also talked to Euclio about Roland and we came up with the hint of a plan. We'll have to gauge first, if Yasdia might bite at the lure.

*Here, a note is stuck between the page, a copy of the letter left for Yasdia*

Roland Asen
Roland Asen used to work with Gil'thilak - an elf. Both joined the Dominion late (the Dominion, being Sencliff Institute mostly). Somehow, however, they managed to betray Sencliff Institute, and before they were able to kill everyone, they got driven out.
Gil'thilak has not been seen hence, Roland fled to the Underdark, for in the process of shattering Sencliff, he got himself exiled out of every single surface town. Depending on how badly you wish to be rid of Roland down here, there is a group up there highly interested in getting their hands on him. Would you be willing to negotiate with them to get rid of Roland for you, I can make contact between them and you.

I am walking a very highly precarious balance here. I've also contacted one of Roland's closest allies. Vonevar. I've told him about my tinker, and his knowledge on the collars. Ends up, the magics have been updated since he has been dealing with it over five decades ago (long lived elf that he is), so he could not help. However, he came with me, to meet Roland and to speak to the Slave Master, and the clamp-master to find out, how much the bribe would be to have a collar removed. I've heard rumors of anything between half a million and triple that.

The disappointment was palpable, when we learned, that neither would so much as look at the riches offered. That seals my fate. I will remain clamped down here, working to at least manipulate slave raids to the surface where I can, and offer save haven to as many more as welcome the aid.
It gives me more time, to find out how to remove the clamps as well – though I pray, my attempts are not uncovered...

Beloved Patron, Helping Hand. It's a decision hard wrought, and painful. I pray, I may remain in your graces while working for Freedom to guide as many as I can, to walk with your peaceful breeze in their backs. By all that is sacred, I am going to miss the open skies, and the free choices that come with them.

[LittleWeasel]

Mocked and belittled... bloody elves.
22, Eleint, 98

*The writing is angry, and barely controlled, some deep scratches in the paper, where the quill nearly broke with the force of its use*

I went to contact the elves about Yasdia's renewed interest in elven artifacts, their burial grounds – a sign, that he is less involved down below with time to spare for his grudges once more. I have tried to find Seril for days, and could not. So I decided to try Mithrim. Asherrin (a black archer) waylaid us and nearly prohibit Mithrim to speak to me. Thankfully, he spoke up and after I was about to just walk out of them, they finally decided to listen.

But ohhhh that black archer. Everything I said, she belittled, and mocked me with. Questioned the truth in my words. I was furious. Then she told me, Ken Thoss has up and left the island for good. She had his staff to prove it. That leaves me hanging at a pivotal point in the network.

In the end, she made me beg her if I wanted their aid... claiming all the while, she was better than "my drow master" ... while I hate the collar, and the slavery (or I wouldn't work so hard against it!), at least Yasdia just ignores me. She mocked my efforts, called me a spy for Yasdia, and looked at me like I was a piece of vermin – until I just walked out on them. I was shaking with anger. In my eyes, Asherrin is not an ounce better than those, that call themselves slave masters down there. Cut from the same cloth. She will never have my trust, nor my respect.

Thank the gods for Euclio. I went to him, stormed into Cordor after my encounter with the elves. Him and Amana were there, holding me then, soothing me – welcoming me. What would I have done without them? Despite it all, they have turned into a family for me. Amana, with her loving presence, Euclio with his gentle, but firm support. And unfaltering optimism. He provided me with contacts to potentially continue Ken's work. My next task is to find Billie (Mouse), and Gideion and “The Lantern Knights”... May the Traveller continue to guide and hold me and provide opportunity for me to contact them and soon!

[LittleWeasel]

Betrayal & Ambush
2, Uktar, 98

I would not have believed it! Trying to map the sewers, I suddenly was summoned away and found myself in the midst of a group of mages – it was Gideion, Billie, Kaliyah, Sam, and one other lady – Caistina. I hadn't even had a chance to establish contact with them yet. Did Euclio alert them to me, just as he alerted me to them? Granted, I knew Gideion from afore... But never expected of his own accord, he'd jump to such risks just to get me out?
I was to contact them, to help me help others... But... They said, they were going to get me out right then and there. I had given up hope for my own freedom a long time ago by then.

Conveniently, Yasdia sent a Goblin that very moment for me to join him in his house. So... we arranged, I'd go there, and I'd open the door for them (Yasdia always sends me, when there is a knocking), and they'd enter under invisibility. It worked flawlessly. He never saw it coming. Within
moments, they had him tied up as a bundle.

Oh my, I was so scared, he'd smell I was about to betray him, the moment I ducked through the door. It took all my wits to keep my calm and feed him some vague stories about Sencliff.

Anyways... he could not believe it, and in the end they were able to force him to free me. At blade point, he released me to the Slave Master of Andunor. Billie then purchased me from him to protect my contract and writ, and then we could begin our search to remove the clamp ... I still wear the thing.. But, at least I am free to walk where my own choice carries me. I can't ever thank them enough!

The look Yasdia bestowed upon me upon our departure spoke of the deep betrayal I had wrought upon him though. I had not thought, he had come to trust me that much and in the end, it was his downfall. No, Yasdia – back then, when you had caught me, I was callous enough, if you had but opened trade negotiations, you would have secured a business partner, for back then, I cared nothing for consequences or people. I had few friends, and fewer I cared for. It would have been more profitable for you.

But no... you took away what was most sacred to me – free choice, freedom – and cut deep into my very soul. Alas, it was that, which opened my eyes and heart to the world around me, and I guess that's something I ought to be grateful for, for I have grown.

No longer yours, Yasdia. Mine again – and my wrath and hatred toward you and yours will walk by my side, like shadow death himself... You have bred yourself a thorn in your side, and never again will you look at your slaves the same way. You've been betrayed once. You, and yours. I can guarantee you – it will not have been the last time!

[LittleWeasel]

The Good Cause!
14, Uktar, 98

A fortnight has passed, and Cordor has outdone itself. I would have never believed it, but they created fund raisers, donation alleys, competitions, art auctions to benefit the cause of freeing slaves! The councilors have outdone themselves and I am just plainly overwhelmed. I've made the decision, that whatever my map sales bring, will go to that cause as well. Also, having contacts still, that I can meet, keeps us somewhat appraised of business down there. I also have met Judith.

She finally shed the disguise as a slave and we now only have to get the clamp off her as well. She only wishes it gone, once Karla is free though. Karla is the slave, that turned to the pain maiden and I have heard many horror stories about. I still doubt she truly wishes to be free, for having seen her in the hub (and then avoided her), she looks like she flourishes in the task given to her, breaking the other slaves and following her deity with cold, calculated passion...

I should focus on slaves, that need to get away from Her. Like Min, or Kax. Or Martin.
Martin... I barely wrote about him, in my past entries. We've gone on many resource gatherings together. The Goblins send him to the surface much, for wood and fruits, berries and cotton unattainable in the Underdark. Quite a few of those trips, we did together, and in my year I spent up here, he provided me with much information of the political situation down below, putting himself into danger often for it.
Now it is on me, to make sure, that he, too will walk free one day. He has a friend up here, an elven mage who helps him greatly with his resources. Between the three of us, we should be able to get him out from down there. He seems so torn on the thought though. He fears the surface almost more, than the constant beatings, the known terrors down below. He might yet be his own worst enemy – and I understand him. It is not easy for a slave, to see himself as a valuable person. I know that feeling just too well. We have no right, no privilege, not the luxury to value ourselves. We are worthless. In that regard, I will always remain a slave. The nightmares will stay with me. Some things, when they are broken, cannot be fixed. I'm afraid, this might be one of those things – in myself, and even more so, in Martin.

[LittleWeasel]

The dog is off its leash!
16, Uktar, 98

Billie suddenly called me to her again. She said she was leaving the island for many years, and would transfer ownership to Euclio. We were joined by Amadeo Pneuma, a monk with a long history on the island that, whenever I merely hear his name leaves me in plain awe and respect (I always think, I behave a fool whenever he's nearby. His age, and wisdom are just too vast to encompass) and Feldayne and carefully snuck our way down there.

That place wakes all fears. It's almost, as if I had never left. Just entering the City Gates beneath “The Eye”, I instantly took the posture so deeply ingrained in me. Head bowed, eyes low, shivering, whenever I felt another's gaze upon me.
It took all the courage within me to remain steadfast enough – and keep my wits about me. There were moments, I pretended to be just another slave on the way, and others where it took all my nimbleness to duck from cover to cover, to remain unseen and unheard.
It wasn't easy, especially, since I'm still so afraid of Yasdia's backlash. He can't be happy right now, and if given the chance, I am sure he'll lash out and try to find revenge or worse!

We almost were discovered, and only thanks to Billie's quick wit were able to walk out of there.
When she transferred ownership, instead of giving me to Euclio straight away though, we tried to give me to the Auction Master of Andunor. He then was willing to remove the clamp for five hundred thousand. This is a very steep and very painful sum, and I am sure, over time, he'll likely increase it, if we keep going that route – if we ever are able to repeat the route for other slaves. I am sure, by now the drow are wary. Yes, Yasdia has been betrayed, but I cannot trust that he is too proud to not warn the other Drow of us, or is he? If none else knows what has come to pass, there may yet be chances of us repeating the quick force of freeing the slaves.

I look with trepidation at the Slave Master though. In the end, it's in his hands, and I just cannot foresee him continuing to going along with such machinations for long. With me, back then, … I wonder if he didn't just because he was startled into it. But now, that he knows, would he not be the one to warn other Drow?

Would he not be the one to thwart us? And how much longer, until the very Peacekeepers will turn against us, for surely, upsetting the slave-trade massively is, in a way, endangering the city. Surely, in the long run, they will not just turn a blind eye?

So many factors to consider and they all bring me to only one conclusion: We need an Andunorian, in a powerful position, I think, who could do those interactions for us. I might have to involve the tinker further, but can I truly trust him fully?

*A report is tucked between the pages*

Steps for Freeing Slaves

> Is the slave city owned? The Slave Master within the Auction house will take five hundred thousand coins to remove the clamp.

> Is the slave owned by a single person? The owner has to be convinced to give up the slave, sell it, or cooperate. He then has to transfer ownership to the city!

This seems to be the only way these days to remove the clamps. With that steep of a sum, it is going to be hard to free slaves quickly, especially with the extra needed to help the slaves then settle back in on the surface.
If the clamps cannot be removed, their only save haven will be the Pax Cordoria. It is even risky to travel with companions further, for while they can report the vanishing of the (yet-to-be-freed) slave, by the time something can be done about it, it might be too late. It is to be expected, that the Underdarkers will tighten their surveillance on anything touched by the sun! Extreme caution and care is advised for the future!

[LittleWeasel]

News from below & a Place to hang my Hat!
25, Uktar, 98

I informed my tinker of my freedom. In exchange, he shared with me his latest news. He might just be what we need. For one, he was elected to lead the others of his kin. He will have to walk a careful line, likely owning his own slaves, and other deeds that pacify his kin, to not oust him. But he'll be in a position very much able to aid us up here. He also warned me of an Assassin. A man with a heavily tattooed face, wearing blacks and grays, of dark hair and light skin. A description, that would befit nearly anyone.

House Vh'larra had hired him, not to assassinate, but to bring surfacers down to enslave them. He may use guile, or force, whichever suits the situation best. Also, the slave Salindra is back with a vengeance and out for those, the Tinker holds close. She'll likely be working with Yasdia again soon, and that means I have to be watchful, for surely, he will use her skills to perfectly blend in surface as well as below to get back to me. The Tinker also promised me to have an eye out for Kax, Min, and Martin and have a care for them.

I've made him meet Euclio and Balthias as well. Should anything happen to me, I want there to be a way for the Cause to continue. Even if I am not there, constantly driving, and pushing. They were apprehensive at first, but Balthias has met him several times before. Astoundingly, Balthias said, he was even surprised, but for some reason, he trusts the little guy. Oddly enough, so do I. I still don't know just how far, but by now, it's all I've got. So I'll take it and be grateful for it.

Amana allowed me to rent a room within the Lighthouse. A small little corner, just for me, for the things I need. I'm excited! I will need to furnish it, and maybe hang a painting or two into it. A desk would be nice, where I can then paint and draw and make maps to my heart's desire.

But one thing after another. I think, I'm going to make some elms-wood furnishing. I like the golden glow, that I managed to get on them, when I created some for Shad'remar. Ahh... a home, a chest, my own little piece of peace. Behind several locked doors. I think, I am happy and if not that, at least content. I have reason, to allow myself to feel safe, for the time being.

[LittleWeasel]

The joys and woes of friendships and love...
17, Nightal, 98

Once, I was intimidated by the monk. Euclio asked me to contact him, and I nearly toppled over with nervousness, when I did and found myself facing the running legend Amadeo Pneuma. My fears were unfounded though and in the end, we spent much time in my little room, and he told us where he had come from, his entire story. Mayhap, later on, I'll write it all down. He has lived... so, so long. What a ... No... he is no man, but something else entire. I cannot put my finger on it, and but my gut tells me, that there is more to the monk, than merely humanity outstripped by monastery discipline.

I am grateful to Euclio for finally having made the contact with him so. There is much and much I can learn from him, and his near-constant hin-companion Alair. Historical facts and details enrich any map more, than a detailed list of coordinated numbers ever could.

Some things about Amadeo will likely always inspire awe within me. But I am glad to have overcome my shyness to talk to him, and ask questions. Alair was there as well, the hin-monk, who is one of the Knights of the Road – even heading their order. Both of them, for their knowledge and their willingness to share it make my life much, much richer.

Listening for many hours to Alair and Amadeo, for long moments distracted me for my deep worries about Amana and Euclio.
Oh, my dear friends, why would you love one another so much, and then hurt one another so deeply? Can't you see your own follies? Even I, who have never loved, feels your pain... Amana loves another, though she also loves Euclio. Goddess, and having her fates read, dictate her to follow her heart, follow both. Euclio seems to escape in his work more than anything, but I can see how it pains him. He loves her so, and only her, and seeing that she spends time with another, that she otherwise could spend with him, breaks him.

I tried to talk to Amana about it, but in the end, she only said, he'll have to get over it and accept it. But does she not see, that she might drive him away with this? I care for them both, so dearly and it pains me to see them so. I hate being unable to help... I hate even more, failing to understand Amana's view on what she considers “love”.

She might be right, I might be the one, having wrong perceptions on the emotion, but she claims, if one cannot love freely everything and everyone, unconditionally – then it is not love, but an insult to it. An inhibition of the feeling, by mistrust and jealousy – like one would cage a bird. Mayhap she is right, and mayhap I am wrong, but may the gods help me, Sune, Sharess, Selune – those, that hold love to them, and in their tenets, I rather be alone, eternally than having to fight those battles within. The Windrider knows, my own battles on my heart are gruesome enough and I will not add another to the grounds.

I do wonder though, if it's due to Amana's days growing shorter and shorter? Her body more and more frail? Does she wish to push as much life as she can into her remaining time? Or is it truly the credo of her goddess? Is she truly one of Sharess? When all things are said and done though, it is of no import to me, who it is she holds as a patron – I can only plead with all of them, can only beg, please prevent me from love... For it is confusing. It complicates things. It's terrifying.