A Ranger's Repentance - The Journal of Kregor Boldheart

[KregorRanger]

1 Kythorn 103

Moon's ending again brought lycans to the fore on the isle. The Beastlord's taint grows, and yet another plant has been destroyed by them. They would have it that none of the cure remains upon Arelith. I have already taken the steps to assure they will not have the satisfaction.

I found Virgil again in our forest. Almost had him where I wanted him, to try and question him about his kin and Lyra, but I had to pick between going after him, or tending to a young hin who was infected by the taint.

Heal the wounds left in their wake.

It took walking half the isle over two nights to find a blooming plant, but we ended the second night with the hin cured, and entered the city to find Cat and Amira gathered with others at the gates. Willow has been kidnapped by the abyssals, and Anthony and another Tempuran decided to foolishly follow down into the Underdark to go after her. Hopefully he doesn't end up with a collar, like the last leader of his church when they set on the last hastily made rescue in the 'dark.

The rest of us stayed with the Guard Commander, to discuss possible ways to rescue our sister. Still so much vagueness and conflicting information to make a proper plan. And more and more are being captured to slavery in the meanwhile. We need to disrupt the flow, but we're at a severe disadvantage in not knowing the lay of their land like they know ours.

She wants to map it again. And the promise to not go below lest we are together still stands. T'is been delayed too long; and we need the knowledge. Moon's end t'will be. And may the Lady guide us.

[KregorRanger]

1 Flamerule 103

Traveling with my mate, we explored the isle's reaches on the plane of shadow, including a distorted version of the mage tower. I dared not enter, for I sensed the words I would have to say. Even if I could have lied about it, I would never speak the words entry required. While traveling Cordor's shadow, we ran upon the golden monk again. He had news to share of our captive sister, and perhaps some small trump card to use against the Malarite. We shall see, but first, we need to get down below.

Thus led us on my first delve into the underdark. We stayed close to the walls, avoiding as much confrontation as possible so as not to leave trails. The petrified forest below, I'd never seen a sort of natural beauty as this — a subterranean mirror of the Maiden's creation above. Three portals in all I attuned to, but there are still more to find. Seeing as we'd already spent three days in exploring, and I felt none secure in resting below, we used said attuned portals to return topside.

Cat did not handle it well, I could tell the whole time, and even moreso when she finally reached the surface again and lost herself. I did what I could to offer her comfort afterward, and at least, she sleeps now. I now concern myself how well she will fare to be down there longer, as we may well be during the rescue. Still, I need her knowledge in how to do this, as I've none.

Lady Moonlight, guide our steps in this.

[KregorRanger]

I saw her this day. Lyra. She had been brought out from the dark, and placed on the surface, by the Malarite — the one whose name is borne on the collar around her neck. She says she was threatened below, and brought to the surface. I told her she could stay — she did not have to return. I could give her haven here, the isle inside the Pax, where the summoners could not reach. But she refused. She says there is a threat to balance below, that she is there for a reason, in spite of captivity, and the torment.

The torment... She walks upon the leg the Malarite wretch broke. Her face scarred, and her hair.

He hacked off her bloody hair — like Torvas did to my mate's. Humiliation. An attempt to break her pride and esteem. Damn their lot to the hells. I begged her to stay, even as the little green skinned messenger appeared and sent for her — to return to her "Master."

Make sure we are ready when t'is time, she beckoned, and she departed.

Heal the wounds left in their wake.

How do I heal this? Heal it, and make it stick? We rescue one, to see another captive. The Malarites grow, rather than decline. One house of Drow fall, and another take its place, more vicious than the last. And to heal the wounds is merely to put a bandage over the fester that eats at the flesh.

Wield the Sword of Peace, not of War.

Healing, may well involve cutting out the fester. Even if some flesh is to go along with it. I pray t'is not the case — I pray we shall not lose Lyra, and I pray none of us fall in the process of saving her.

Particularly not Catalin, but I need her in this beside me. The last trip below shook her worse than I'd hoped. We made a promise to each other not to go without one another, but she was wretching by the time we surfaced. I've still so far to go, before I can make the trek successfully. I pray she will be recovered enough to press on, and for us to make the rescue, together.

Lady Moonlight, guide my path as I learn the way to make this work.

[KregorRanger]

**A letter is tucked into the pages here**

Kregor and Catalin

Your assassin has failed you. Her deceptions have been discovered and she paid the ultimate price for what she has done — to my understanding, under your guidance. You should have listened to Lyra, and desisted your reckless behavior, as you have caused more to suffer for your bravado.

I have grown quite fond of Lyra, and will keep her as long as it pleases me. The evidence of what happens when you meddle in the life below has been left in your storage chest.

(Signed)The Fang of the Green Dragon, Lash of the Taskmaster, and Beast of Xun'viir.

[KregorRanger]

1 Nightal 103

The end of the year draws nigh, and Lyra still remains in captivity with that wretch Malarite down below. The only thing I've to show for it for the effort I've put in is frustration, and fleeting encounters with my sister, who now seems a twisted shell of who she once was, and a head, of whom, I have no bloody idea.

I see those who endure the shackles below, and I come to appreciate all the more the strength of my mate for enduring that herself for the time she did, and still retaining even a shred of her sanity. That said, it has become clear that she will not be able to accompany me again for more journeys into the lands below.

The nightmares have returned; she oft even wakes from her sleep with a cry of fear. These had passed for so long since her freedom was won — since we have held one another. And now, it saddens me that we have taken such a large step backward.

So I will not be taking her below anymore — not this next year, nor the next, nor perhaps some several after. So many of those who funded the Broken Shackle have left the isle. So many of those who share my third oath have also departed. It took years to rebuild the funds the fake Sunite paladin absconded with. And now, the coin in the fund might as well be minted of lead, without a solid group to carry it forth to unlock those clamps. The Broken Shackle, for all it was once, is now gelded.

I have others who are willing to follow me down — Anthony, Soko and any and all of the Pack, but I am ineffective to lead them down, without knowing the process. Without even knowing the way.

And the head. The Malarite dumped it into the storage locker of the lay to. I've no idea who it is. And no one who has seen it seems to know either. I took it to the Commander, and my faith sister Angela, and neither could they make identification of it. Seems more than one party is playing a game against the Malarite, and/or his employers. I pray the victim wasn't innocent of whatever deeds they accused her of. But at least, I can be thankful it wasn't one of my own.

I long for more than a fleeting glimpse of this savage arse. Preferably long enough to draw my bead upon him.

[KregorRanger]

*** Another note stuck into the journal ***

Lyra is dead.

Keldray and I found her head in a box in Cordor. Would you like to keep her? Should I bury her in the woods instead?

Eowade

[KregorRanger]

8 Ches 104

Lyra is Dead.

Those few words cut me like a knife. Those few words were a concise summary of my failing her. The Malarite had his use of her, and now has dispatched her.

He's a coward.

He uses those weaker than I to strike at my pack. He leaves messages to taunt me, and random parts of others he thinks will unsettle me, and others of my kin.

Lyra did not deserve this — a youngling of beauty and simple joy of being a woman of the wylds. It took her years to come to a place of deciding to run with our pack. Yet, as soon as she did, it was clear she was a perfect fit among us. Truly, she made me feel more grumpy and bitter than I'd credited myself, when comparing myself along side of her.

He made her a broken shell of the woman she was, and now the plans we lay to break her free of the shackle and mend her have been rendered moot.

I could not save her, and the ultimate cost for her came far too soon. I have had enough of burying those for whom I care.

Lady Moonlight, guide her spirit home.

[KregorRanger]

***Another letter tucked into the journal***

Miss Snow,

So it seems I've tracked you down. Absent from where the archers and mages sit perched upon a city wall. Know that should you not return down here, I shall return here, however. And I shall bring to me all the joys to your people, which you are surely familiar with.

Yasdia

[KregorRanger]

10 Ches 104

The letter was left on the board on the hill. How I'd hoped that darkie bastard had found his death among his own kin down in the depths, but it seems I'll not have my wishes this day.

I have seen Salindra roaming about again. And now this note written in the hand of the one who held the collar around my mate's neck — the cause of her nightmares at night, and the first to plague our pack with his attempts to capture our kin and collar them. This, and the Malarite that still roams our forest and deposits body parts as his token to say hello.

This all mires into a very dark, foreboding possibility — that they are all tied in a common effort. They, and the dragonborn wench that the Malarite signs his allegiance to along with the false Drow.

Malarites to the left of me, Sharran to my right, and the damned darkies, real and concocted, brimming up from the pit below us. My entire pack is at risk, and I can only do so much to protect our younglings.

And Catalin. By my Lady's Light, they will not have her again.

While she has been keeping herself secluded at our hideaway, and there is some safety in that, there are now too many players, too many out to get to me, through those that I love.

We decided it would be best for her safety, and for her own peace of mind, for her to leave the isle for a time, 'til all of this settles, somehow. She has gone back east, to where we have Annalynne for safe harbor. There shall she find it as well, and the anonymity that our stepdaughter has been shrouded by for the last few years. When t'is time, I will send for her again. Perhaps, we can even bring Annalynne home again, and have our family together, and I can leave this wood to those who are younger than I, with far less demons than I have endured.

I am weary, beleaguered, and without my center to keep my heart at peace, I still fear becoming the abyss which I have to gaze into to stand against it.

Lily and others buried Lyra's remains in the glade south of the pond. She asked if she could make a stone for her. Of course, I agreed. T'is fitting for the wood to be her resting place. She drew her last for it — Like the wolf pack before her, like the Korab's before them. The least we can do, is to honor her likewise.

We have a legacy of those who give everything for the sake of this wood.

Whatever it takes, I will do.

[KregorRanger]

9 Tarsakh 104

He has gotten another.

On the tail end of Lyra's passing, my sister Nhala has fallen under the Malarite's collar. She was looking for me, in the woods, and I was not there to aid her, to point out the man who would take her below and then try to break her.

I found her outside the Mage Tower — bearing his collar, and scars which he had already put upon her. Like Lyra before her, I pled with her to stay outside the collar's summon, to resist going to him again and letting him cause her further pain.

She's already breaking. She goes and comes willingly to him. Yet I thought I glimpsed a small ray of hope for freedom. As she recounted her capture to myself, and the Jergalite Ossian in her company, she talked of needing the coin, and gathering it, for her freedom. I knew not the Jergalite's own sympathy for those in shackles, yet it was clear by the time we parted ways, and he seemed quite resolve in making a visit to the Malarite.

I should have gone with him.

I should have taken Nhala along, instead of lingering with her pleading for her to stay in the wood. Perhaps, I would have been the encouragement when the next day saw the Malarite battered by the Jergalite's hand, and at the brink of death, having Nhala's freedom demanded of him.

Instead, as Ossian recounted, Nhala intervened against his blade, and pled the Malarite's life. Emboldened, Mikasi refused, and the Jergalite left her with him considering his effort a waste.

Systematically, my pack is being picked at. Lady Moonlight granted, I am trying to be strong through it — he alpha of the pack has to be. But every loss is breaking me more inside.

We are scattered, disjointed, and I am failing to hold us together.

How do I fight this, without becoming the hunter driven by hatred and revenge that I once was?

[KregorRanger]

1 Mirtul 104

The past couple of moons have brought a new apprentice to the hill. Mina is an elf girl, barely adult by their blood's standards. What she lacks in skill, she surely makes up for in ambition. She has her own list of things she intends to excel at, and I've tried my best to impart what I can.

Alas, I am distracted by the events that plague us presently, and because of it I fear for her, and other younglings we have about the hill of late. My teaching has become more of a sheltering, and if I am not careful, I will stifle her growth, rather than nurture it.

The same concern led me to entrust Clara and Natalia's safekeeping to a pair of tower wardens, as they were summoned to meet with this alleged "Arch-Underdruidess" on what she claimed to be a matter of imbalance that effected her grove as well as the surface's. It almost didn't happen, as the woman changed the meeting place via gob messenger — twice — in the course of preparing for the journey.

Concerned, and rightfully so, that it might be a ploy to pull our seasoned folk from the hill in order to make easy prey for Mikasi and his underlings, I stayed behind, with my young apprentice. The lessons of the day gave me reason to stay close, and wary. And when the druids returned later, the words they brought from the Underdruid were, incredible, at best. And ludicrous, at the worst. A claim there was a necessary device that need be built between the groves to maintain a balance of positive and negative energy. Atop of the incredulity, the woman is a darkskin. That, alone, is justification for mistrust.

Either way, this involves the Heartwood. Not my parade; the news needs to go to them. Clara shall deliver it, as the tie between our woods that she's been for many moons now. I worry for her, and feel the stress of her trying to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders — I even identify with it. But I hope I can convince her of what I see in her, eventually.

She has been the tie that has, in fact, made the Dreaming Tree irrelevant, so far as rebuilding a bond of cooperation between our forests. Her compassion and care for her kin seems to know no bounds, and I pray I can encourage her to rise above and show the same compassion and patience for herself — to see what I believe I see in her.

The pack lost its heart. I believe it has found another — she just needs to realize it of herself.

Guard the wylds from those who would trespass,
And heal the wounds left in their wake.

[KregorRanger]

12 Flamerule 104

Arrival on the hill after checking the workshop, found my new apprentice tending to a wounded elf male neath one of the trees. Ylynaern was his name; seems Mina and he have been traveling of late in betwixt our training, and he fell in the marshes, from whence she brought him to the hill to revive him.

We sat talking around the fire afterward, on many things, but among them, was the topic of the Malarites — including Mikasi, and our kin that he had taken from our forest. Ironic the topic, as Ylynaern sought to refresh himself in the shelter.

He took far too long to return. So Mina and I went down to the shelter to find him. He was nowhere to be found. Only his tracks down, sign of a struggle, and different set of tracks going back up. We followed the trail, picking up the Jergalite Ossian along the way. Eventually the set of light human tracks was joined by another, heavily armored pair.

Mikasi wears heavy plate. At that moment, I knew we were in a race to the underdark to rescue Mina's companion from their grasp. Fortunately with my seasons, I can read tracks even at a breakneck speed. We managed to trail them, through the orc caves and into the stinger caves, where they carried the slain elf intending him as their captive.

Two of them to the fore — Mikasi and one of his pets who wears the same colors. Those of the Beast Lord. I knocked one arrow each in my bow, Mina drawing hers likewise to cover the cat shaper that came up from behind. Crofter came around from their rear, flanking the Malarite and the female. The stand down began.

I demanded the fallen elf, which they dropped at Mina's feet. I could feel Mina's heart sink, as she looked at the remains. I knew the pain she felt, that very moment. This had to end. It had to end now.

Mikasi's pets portaled out with lenses, and Mina took her companion into her arms aside, her sole effort being the wish to keep them from taking him again. As Ossian followed the others through the leylines, I gave the Malarite what I owed him. I slammed him to the ground with my shield, and beat on him, with no letting up. Not even as he lay bloodied, and I put the blade though his throat as my parting blow.

For Lyra.

Mina sit in the corner of the cave, holding her companion closely to her. She only turned her attention from him once, as I stood above the fallen huntsman. She begged me to take Mikasi's head.

I am a ranger, not an executioner. And yet, I knew every feeling and emotion my apprentice had in her thoughts that moment, to have someone dear, taken brutally away.

Anger.

Loss.

Pain.

Revenge.

I spoke of someday having the Malarite's head upon the rampart atop our hill. And yet, the moment I had it at the tip of my blade, my intentions faltered me.

His head would not bring Lyra back.

It would not bring Mina's companion back to her.

And yet, I had to struggle with the visions of the things he and his kind have done to those I care for. The Malarites that took Catalin's eye, and took her scalp as a trophy. The Malarites that destroyed my clan in the Hullack, that took my first mate from my side. The Malarites that mutilated Lyra and then disposed of her, and this very lot that still hold another one I called sister within their shackles, and even yet work to break her.

It had to end.

My thoughts were cut short by a warning delivered by messenger that Mikasi's cronies were coming back for him — along with the dragon born wench that he coddles with. With the one scroll I had in my pouch, we raised Ylynaern. Then I gave each of them lenses, with one direction — to get the hells out of there.

I made sure they were gone, and safe, and then t'was left to me, and the corpse of the wretched Malarite.

They would come for him. They would take him back, and restore him, if I just left his empty husk there and intact.

T'is justified, that those who will not repent of the black blood's taint, be sacrificed.

Silver Lady forgive me, if not.

[KregorRanger]

24 Flamerule 104

While making my sojourn to the Dreaming Tree, I stopped by Heartwood, to find the Archruidess and Clara speaking in the grove, along with the return of my sister Atasha. They were speaking of the Malarite Darkie Druidess from below, and her proposition of this device to repair her alleged imbalance in the frozen grove below. Seems her words were met with the same skepticism and wariness from the druids as they were by me.

We talked at length about it, and although the story talked of this device connecting the groves in years past, nothing within the Heartwood's archives spoke of its existence — or even the names of the alleged druids who constructed it.

In short, there is no compelling reason to believe this darkskin, much less to trust her. Particularly considering the past attacks her kin have made against this very grove. The proposal she brought would trade positive for negative energy between the two groves, and the prospect of negative energy being artificially channeled into this thriving wood is nothing short of threatening.

We are at a severe disadvantage not knowing much of this drowess, aside from who she says she is, and what she says her intentions are. We need facts, and I have contacts who can get them. I promised Navira I would check my sources that we might know better this woman they are dealing with.

To serve as first defense against those who would trespass.

I am a Ranger of the Wood, and a Needle of my Maiden. T'is my duty to shield the wylds from those who would encroach upon it. Regardless of any differences my kin and those of the greater forest may have had in times past, the Heartwood is the heart of the wylds on this isle. Should it perish, the branches would soon follow.

Not as long as I still breathe.

[KregorRanger]

Midsummer 104

The highest sun brought one of my sisters home from distant places.

Aly’ne was an ambitious one from the start, an elf of the Great Archer. She learned quickly, and just as quickly I thrust her into a place of responsibility as Olina left our pack, and Aly’ne became my right hand in Olina’s place — from apprentice, to Ranger Guardian in a moment’s decision.

I never regretted the decision, as she was one of the most solid in our pack, became a true emissary for our folk and Myon. And I was saddened when she told us she had to leave.

I’d anticipated seeing her, from the first I read the note upon the board. Happened that we met again finally in the company of my apprentice. She and Mina should get along well, I reckon — they share much in common, even their service to the Archer, though Aly’ne is far more stoic, on the surface at least.

Ye just have to get past the rough exterior.

Our time for catching up was cut short at Highmoon, however.

I was a fool. I’d come from Guldorand on foot, to find one bloody wereboar. It was cleanly dispatched in two strokes, I’d not even thought I suffered a scratch, or crossed its blood with mine. And yet, I recall the pain, and the bloodlust of the Beastlord that I had to fight, and beg my Lady to strengthen me through.

Our reunion became a trip for wolvesbane. Sadly we arrived too late, for the blooms were already closed, and t’is the last night of the moon.

I sent my sisters away, and I shall roam the wylds til the next night I might have a sprig to blossom. I’ll not endanger them, or anyone else ’til I have cleansed myself.

Some say ye walk in another’s shoes to understand them.

All I gain, by feeling this taint myself, is more resentment and hatred for those who choose to embrace it, rather than seek deliverance from it.

[KregorRanger]

10 Eleint 104

The black blood is cleansed from my veins, at least all but the last vestiges of it. I'm chewing on belladonna as if it were mint sprigs meanwhile — if only it bloody tasted as well. The moon of coalescence put me behind in tending to my apprentice. I tracked her down and we made for the Dreaming Tree.

T'was her first time to behold it, and I told her of the tree, and the alliance between the forests we forged within its boughs. We gave pause for talk of her path, and my own, how far she'd come, and her myriad of questions still. As she watched blades of grass, dropped and falling down from the boughs to the forest below, she likened herself to one of the blades. Youthful fear muddies the ambition that drives her, and in her own free fall, she fears what lay at the bottom.

There is a difference, between that blade of grass, and she: I will not let her fall.

Stand as a pack. Fight as a pack. Live, and if need be, die as a pack.

We gleaned the notices on the boards within the tree before our departure. News of the Drow crow shaper prompted me to concern over Heartwood, and the promise I made to the Archdruidess. We decided to head via the grove on our return journey.

Good timing it was, as my contact was there. And he had just the information I'd hoped for about the crow shaper. Her loyalties lie in anything but the balance — they lie with her own blood kin and the same dragonborn witch that her Malarite suckling Mikasi kisses the arse of. The only question now is, what will the Heartwood do with the knowledge I have of her?

My question was cut short on this as none other but the wench herself wandered into the grove — in broad daylight no less. The tension was thick as others made their way into the grove following, including my sister Clara, who has been our tie between the two forests, and Aly'ne, my long lost right hand, who once again stands beside it. All gathered in their attempts to make the crow shaper simply leave.

My apprentice was troubled, understandably so, that there was no aggression made to remove the woman as she taunted the rest of us. She does not understand the bond of peace that keeps the grove neutral and sacred. And as much as I may have been ready to break that sanctity if it came to blows with Cassima years before, I would not defile the ground if the circle themselves choose not to act likewise.

After some time, and taunting, the darkie left the sanctuary, leaving the rest of us to reckon with what the next step would be.

At least now, I have at least some knowledge to use against the crow shaper's attempt to step into the grove peaceably. It would help even more, if I knew the true motive for her desire for a foothold in this grove.

Lady Moonlight, reveal the truth to me. Give me what I need to shield the heart of our wylds from this incursion.

[KregorRanger]

30 Eeint 104

My apprentice was borne on Ossian's shoulders this evening, unconscious and battered. At once, the thoughts of what fate might have befallen her swarmed me, and the Jegalite only responded with cryptic answers. Nonetheless, he allowed me to follow him to the villa of Lenore, the medic who used to be a part of the Cossacks.

She had been taken by the Drow, down below — and it was the actions of those friends of hers that delivered her from certain collaring and captivity.

And I wasn't there. My need for retreat once again left an opening for those that seek to harm me through those I care for. I said, I would not let her fall, and within the moon, I have fallen short on my promise.

This would be the first of twice I'd failed that promise in the same setting.

Laying her down to rest in one of the bedrooms in the former Cossack's abode, idle chatter began on whether she had gotten "the cure," which was just as quickly shushed by the Jergalite. They left the room, while I stood vigil over my wounded sister.

I'm not dense, and perhaps the others who were gathered round after her rescue do not know how many winters I have pursued those of the black blood's taint, how I can recognize the signs — the tattered clothes, the random stains of blood, even the heartbeat and other physical signs of someone who suffered a transformation. Still, when she awoke, I said nothing to her. She was already distressed and broken enough that day — enough to break down into tears.

Helpless as I felt, I left belladonna with Lenore, to aid in Mina's convalescence.

Heal the wounds left in their wake.

She could have told me; I would have done everything I could to aid her. Was it that she didn't trust me, or was it that the taint was so strong in speaking to her mind, that she didn't want the cure?

Lady Moonlight, guide me to the answer.

[KregorRanger]

20 Marpenoth 104

Meeting with my apprentice today, she seemed to have recovered her spirits from our parting. She goes away oft with Ossian or Lenore for her studies. And I can't help but feel remiss that I neglect her teaching in her absence. Yet still, she calls me her teacher, and she draws in what I share with her as eagerly.

Today, she told me of her cabin she rented, and asked if I would join her. It wasn't the sort of cabin I'd been expecting — I reckon since I've spent so many winters now building the one that will someday house my heart and soul, and Annalynne, upon their return. Instead, she led me to a skiff off of the docks to a ship. Ossian's, apparently.

We never left from being moored offshore, but I shared with her my youth spent shipboard. It became a time of baring souls, and sharing our past and our fears. And a time of newfound trust, as she allowed me into her writings, without hesitation.

I didn't know what to think, at first, and even hesitated. My writings here I would be hard pressed to share — with anyone, barring perhaps Catalin, and our daughter, so that someday she will learn from my mistakes, and perhaps not repeat them.

My apprentice insisted, saying t'was the only way she could bare her soul, rather than with her voice, and so I did. Her desk was cluttered with all sorts of notes, and memoirs, and maps — those penned by my love, some of which I'd not even taken the time to look upon before today.

Then, her note of her infection, and her struggle to fight against the taint, and telling anyone of it. She was afraid to tell me, fearing that I would hate her. So I told her of my past — my losses to the lycans, and the years that my hatred drove me to hunt and kill without mercy or quarter. I also told her of the hope I have found, that I would rather one find healing than extermination. And that I would draw my last to save any one of my kin from that curse.

Then, with a new connection we'd not shared til that day, we talked of those in her life, and those she should and should not trust, and questions of those she found company with. One in particular she asked me about, with some concern, and no less self consciousness; I could tell by her comments and her expressions why.

I didn't know about him right away, but it only took one visit to the wings to find out. I sent her a hin, and left a note within the workshop about what I discovered. I pray if my discovery is true, that she reads it soon.

[KregorRanger]

15 Uktar 104

I'd prayed he would stay dead. Alas, t'was not to be. The Malarite grew a new head, apparent, as I saw his tracks in our lands as I woke for another patrol. Tracking them, I found him joined by another pair — a pair of slender, smaller ones, unarmored. One of his pets perhaps, I mulled as I followed them where they led.

The tracks led to the stoop of Mayfield's. I entered, to find the wretch at the bar, with a youngling female elf — no doubt yet another victim he was sizing up for a collar. He likes the fair kin, though many a female, elf or no, seems to suit his taste for his sick fetish — as Ossian called it.

He was attempting to disguise himself as a robed pilgrim, but if his sorry abilities at disguise weren't enough to give him away, the fact he began shaking as I approached the bar to buy a drink clenched it.

Rather than attack him, I did the worse thing — I revealed him for who he was to the elf, called him out as a hunter of women, and a torturer and a lech. Killing him would have been useless, as it had been useless to remove two of his heads already; I even asked him how death had been working out for him, since he seemed to even fail at staying dead.

I've ruined one of his guises for at least one more victim, and I brought the girl back to Cordor. Leaving him and his lies to return to his pit with his wenches — one of whom was my sister, whom I am powerless to bring away from him and save. Perhaps I have lost her, but I have denied him another to add to his stable.

Lady Moonlight, guard those who wander my woods from his grasp. I cannot be their shield at every waking hour and without rest. I have begun to root myself to the shelter again, leaving the Heartwood to deal with the crow shaper on their own, and my apprentice to wander with Ossian, and, I pray to the Lady, not the one she asked me of.

When will come the day I can send for my heart and soul to return, and we can leave this hill to our hidden cove, away from all of this?

I miss her. I miss the daughter we were given by Elora's hand, that I scarcely knew before we had to shelter her away. I pray they may be able return before I lose so much time that I cannot recapture it.

I begin to fear it may never be, so long as they who would harm me through those I love, still breathe.

[KregorRanger]

**A copy of a letter, penned and tucked into the journal**

My Dearest Heart,

I pray this note finds ye across the seas, and finds ye well. I look forward to hearing of Annalynne, and how she fares in Euclio's care.

Things on the isle are, sadly, unchanged for the most part. Mikasi was slain, by my hand, as he and his pets tried to take another young elf from the Bramble. My new apprentice, Mina, aided me in the pursuit, and we chased them down to the cavern before the stingers. The pets got away, but we managed to retrieve the youngling, and I put Mikasi down.

Sadly, seems he shares the same powers of regeneration as Torvas — he grew the head back. Twice — the second having been delivered to me by Anthony. He won't stay dead, just like the his kin.

Yasdia also continues to darken our wood. The bloody idiots on the Cordor Council now, have taken vassalage over one of the wards in Andunor. This has only caused backlash, and raids to intensify on the surface, particularly upon Cordor and the outlands. And the blasted lunatic has set himself to pillaging and threatening our wood as their bloody self-proclaimed messiah til Cordor releases them.

Mina was captured in one of these raids, but thank the gods she was rescued and the attempts to recapture her thwarted.

This brings me to a question, however. And t'is one I fear will unsettle ye, but I have to ask it.

Ossian has taken her under his wing as well, and he has shared with her the maps ye made for him. The trauma of being dragged below, and not being able to recognize many of the passages from the old maps has made her determined to amend and remap where she can, so that we can be successful in future attempts to break others' shackles.

Obviously, she cannot go alone. She asked for me to go with her. Preferably with at least one other in accompany, but either way, to accompany her, is to break our promise to never go without each other.

I would rather keep our promise intact, not only for the sentiment of it, but because I no longer live the life of a man who lost everything — I have the life of a man who has everything to live for. I have ye, and we have Annalynne, and I miss the both of ye more than I can even put into words. And the one thing that keeps me pressing forward to do all that I am doing here, is the hope that one day those that would seek to take away our forever would finally be vanquished, and I can bring the both of ye home.

I need to know the right answer — I am too torn to simply give it to my apprentice of my own decision. She is willful and headstrong, and much like the woman of similar disposition I have taken as my mate, I am not too certain that a "no" will keep her from going herself.

I will ask of ye, the right answer, and I will wait to receive it from ye, before I give it to her.

I have been thinking, that mayhap t'is enough time that when ye may safely return, to bring Annalynne with ye. Yet still no one but us knows the place our retreat lie, and it is to the point it would be a fitting home — for the three of us, finally to be a family.

Write back to me, as soon as ye may.

All My Heart,
Kregor

[KregorRanger]

Highmoon Hammer 105

I met my friend Anthony in the Mercantile in Cordor. Something about him wasn't right — I could sense it as I spoke to him. Two moons afore, he had told me of his venture once again into the Forsaken Keep of Benwick. He told me of his falling, and feeling as if his Lord had forsaken him. A moon thence, he left word of following the Malarite down below, and I heard nothing from him afterward.

Tonight, at Highmoon, he was vacant, sullen, and his eyes reflected blood therein. He had changed the night before, and I've yet to know who was slain in the wake of it, but the moon was rising again, and he would again become a threat to those around him.

He went on about his being forsaken, and being infected by Mikasi, and the words the Malarite used in the wake of the Beastlord's taint taking root again in my friend's veins. I did what I could to talk to him, to reach him though the haze of mounting bloodlust. He said it was too late, and he'd sooner me end him then and there.

Instead, I convinced him to let me escort him to the gaol, so that we could contain him, and no innocent life would be lost. The hopelessness, and self pity in him was only matched and mirrored by my own as I landed on this cursed island, after I'd lost everything.

We waited, for the change, as we reached the cage. A silent prayer to my Lady for him, as I waited to see his form become that of my foe. I would not cut him down; I could not. He did not need to be ended, and he needed more than healing — he needed hope.

Heal the wounds left in their wake.

In the cage, I tried to offer him that hope. He asked why I didn't just cut him down, and end his forsakenness. I told him he did not need to die; he needed hope. Told him how I had lost everything that was dear to me in my life before coming here to this isle, and the point at which ye lose everything, is the point that ye have everything to gain.

The moon reached its peak, and my prayers to the Lady were heard. The change we both anticipated, did not happen. He knelt there still, as human as I, the taint stayed from boiling up in his veins. I told him that he did not need to follow a God of battle, nor of Blood, but a Goddess of Hope and Light. I saw the warrior break down before me, and cry out — for repentance and redemption.

I led him to the Mirror Shrine, while the Lady could still be seen in its reflection, and we prayed together. The blade he had made, consecrated to his once patron was shattered upon it, and he gave his spirit to Her.

We parted this night as he wished to remain, to dwell further upon her, and I bid goodnight to a new brother.

I retired to the shelter tonight and I think now of the Fellowship I had upon the Mainland in East Way — Shade and Vurg, Luna and Selena, and many others who gave their lives for Our Lady in the wake of undeath, and black bloods. By the time East Way fell, I'd lost them all.

It is the last loss in my life, that has yet to come full circle. Perhaps before I draw my last, I shall once again see a Fellowship of the Moon to rise, this time, upon an isle that sorely needs Her hope.

[KregorRanger]

20 Alturiak 105

We police our own; traitors to the cause must die, for freedom to live.

*ink wells upon the page here, as if the pen were left upon it, in contemplation of what to write*

Whatever it takes...

[KregorRanger]

Highmoon, Alturiak 105

The gobs are up in arms again in the ruined stronghold.

At the beginning of the moon, there was a movement of the gobs out of the forest, making an attempt to jump the fence into the outskirts of the city. I received yet another report of the gobs pressing against the outpost, from a young elf who was not part of our pack, named Ayra. She and her fellows managed to survive, and quench fire that had been set within the outpost, with minimal damage.

This past tenday, I saw the passing of many of their boots around the forest as I awoke. Tracking them to the fortress, I saw the littered remains of scores — not just the gobs, but the orc blooded mongrels as well. I found one of the fallen bearing a scrap of a banner — that of their One Eyed God.

Cutting through what appeared to be stragglers, I ran into a few of my kin making the run within the fortress, along with the mute ranger, and Storm, who is now apparently his mate. T'was then I was told of another press against the outpost, this time with orcish reinforcements, and the group was beating them back into the fort. I joined them for a final press against the contingent, hopefully to at least put enough of a hurting on them to set them back for a moon or so.

This activity reminds me too much of a decade past, when the mongrels all united across the isle under the Ragged Red Banner. Could there be another self-proclaimed Prophet who is trying to unite them again? I pray t'is not the case, and only the attempt made by some more ambitious green skins in the fort to take their grudge against us to another level. T'is high time these bloody vermin were driven out of the fortress for good, if only we could find the crucial point to hit, to take away the head that keeps replacing itself, and stop them from breeding like rats.

At least, our pack has grown once again. The activity has brought together a new crop of young blood to the hill, and perhaps some will take the invitation to stay awhile and grow here. Two of them gained Uldunir's recommendation, the orcblood scout, and a young elf named Nyx. The last of them, the one who took it upon herself to report the raids leading up to the last, an elf by the name of Ayra. She's spirited, and doesn't hesitate to give her opinion on what the wood needs, or the shortcomings of its stewards. Oddly enough, I don't disagree with the criticisms at all. I told her to put bow where her words called out the need, and she accepted.

Three new apprentices, and a new Journeyman as I named Undinir to the rank. And Aly'ne, stepping back into her place as Guardian upon her return, and proving still she has the initiative and momentum to stand as my right hand. I find a little less weight upon my shoulders alone, once more.

It was a needed boost, to quell the loss of another apprentice that I saw so much promise within. The boots I'd crafted, to gift to Mina with her naming of Journeyman will now no longer be given. And I still cannot shake the feeling that her passing, was nothing short of a unnecessary waste.

I can not shelter them forever. I cannot set their paths for them. I can only trust they will make their way in the knowledge and trust that I grant to them.

All innocent beings are entitled to be free from fear, to live their lives as they wish.

[KregorRanger]

**a note has been placed between the pages here*

Re: Kobolds in the Mines

It appears someone may be supplying them, a name on the board in the farmhouse may be a valid lead as to who, one Achukeijer Stormwind (sp) though the last message posted is a bit old.

-Guardian Aly'ne Luella

[KregorRanger]

15 Ches 105

It all comes together now.

The reports from Aly'ne; the memo given to me by Mina, with the request to never ask how or from whom she received it; the Malarite's own words of his loyalties; the darkened wench's subtle sowings of strife, and the loyalties of the crow shaper that taunts the grove. They all corroborate one another. T'is all designed to get to our troupe, to my allies, to assail the things I protect and cherish, to bring loss upon us.

And the why, is now also clear. T'is not a matter of faith and enmities; nor a matter of politics, nor a grudge — at least, none of these at their core.

T'is the Broken Shackle.

T'is a cause that I've never actively concealed, though I've never trumpeted myself for it. I have embraced its principle because of my oaths — because of the one I love who was once shackled herself.

All innocent folk should be free from fear, to live their lives as they wish.

The last posting of propaganda which exposed those who pledged my third oath was a blatant listing of names off of the last Broken Shackle account. An account that my well intended friend, Euclio, thought it to be a good idea to put the false paladin's name upon. The same false paladin that bled the account of all its coin, much like he bled the funds of the city before skipping away.

T'was the only way some of the erroneous names could have made the list, and when the connection clicked for me, Catalin and I scrambled to scrap the account and remove my name from it, before another list of names would be penned.

T'was less to conceal my desire to see the shackles fall, than to conceal my name as being among those who swore my third oath. While I fear I lack the subtlety and finesse some who make the pledge possess, I make up for it using the subtlety of a sledge hammer to achieve the same purpose. Should my name fall upon those rolls and be opened to the eyes of others, I fear the result would be even more attempts to get to me, through that and those for which I hold dear.

But now this, all coming clear.

It goes beyond a Malarite and his seeking easy pickings for a harem to fuel his twisted fetish.

It goes beyond a darkened wench who plagues me over the desire to see one of my faith suffer loss and pain.

It goes beyond a dragon blooded witch with aspirations of grandeur.

And it all weaves into the saddening reality, that I will not find my rest, nor be able to have my forever, so long as they conspire against all that I hold dear.

[KregorRanger]

10 Mirtul 105

There is the presence of a Gnoll wandering the wood. It has entreated both our pack and the city for leave to roam within the Bramble and the outlands. While I am bound by our treaty to drive his lot off of the Pax, and ordinarily I’d as soon cut it down as look at it, the simple fact is that the only folk it’s made any danger to are exactly the ones we don’t want here to begin with.

In the past winters I’ve had the aid of a scaler to free those in shackles and to know when the darkies were making a raid on the surface. And considering the latest contact that I gained the most valuable information on the darkie crow shaper thus far, I reckon I’m finding there are exceptions to everything.

The treaty says that we can offer no sanction nor refuge to those not allowed within Cordor Proper. If we see such, they have to be either put down, or driven off.

Pity for the settlement, t’is not often recognizable as a Gnoll.