An extravagant white leather bound journal contains several chapters detailing Calina Ravanqnerosicor’s journeys. It is written in a rich blue ink and the pages have a gold trim. It is written in Sperethiel.
Chapter 127: The Health of the Far Travelers
I had always thought that my near death experience was the most harrowing of tales a person could experience. For weeks I watched the flashbacks to when I thought I would have died. It was scary how every little detail was engrained in my memory. I even developed a mild fear of sand being tossed through the air. Those who have been witnessed to fight until they had lost consciousness were always so brave, fearlessly throwing themselves in the way of danger for a friend, a comrade, a possible love interest. It reminds me of Jarock. I cannot stand thinking about him in any positive light, but his services were always that of a loyal guardian, at least at the surface. This trip, I saw firsthand how devastating it can be when an ally stops breathing, stops bleeding, stops completely.
It was a job to track down and locate a caravan belonging to one of Dale's acquaintances. The caravan ran rather random and unpredictable trips to Lake Ban and back. On its latest journey, it did not return. We decided to begin at the end of the caravan's path, near Lake Ban. We backtracked until we could find evidence of its arrival and in doing so, found a recently opened kaer. The majority of the population included Orks and Humans. I have been swayed on my prejudices against humans, but Jarock left a scar that will never heal any time soon. Orks have always seemed... impulsive, to say the least. I thought Jarock was different, but was proven wrong. I had hoped that, with the confidence of my companions, things would once again prove my predisposition erroneous. The royalty of this Kaer invited us in, allowed us beds, each of us with a room to ourselves, and fed us well. They did not even seem bothered by my silence. I tried to divine the auras of all the nobility, but none of them seemed to stand out in any way that was suspicious. As I eased into my evening wear, Vallone snuck into my room. I was taken aback, as I would have thought to be the last person anyone would bunk with, but the company made sleeping in these now unfamiliar luxuries easier. As I drifted off to sleep, I found myself gasping for air. It was a spell, and not the kind to help you go to sleep. This one forced us unconscious.
I awoke in a prison cell with the rest of the Adepts. They quickly assembled a plan to escape. It was quite remarkable how quickly an Illusionist such as Dale could alter reality to allow such an attempt. In an instant, Taras and Vallone were unnoticeable. To draw the attention of the guards, Dale began a kind of creepy laugh of insanity. The guards came down, but were not phased by his ruse. I elected to join in. Silently, I faked a laugh and covered it up with my hand. I suppose if one person did so, it would be written off as insanity, but with two, it was worth investigating? They forced us away from the door and one guard entered to search for the missing pair. Dale confused the guard outside with the key, and I rushed to grab it. Hot on my trail, Dale went to work his magic on the other guard's memory. We exited, and I stood watch at the entrance. Taras was able to find our equipment, thankfully. I only have eleven outfits left. Vallone attempted to interrogate the guards, who were now locked in their own cell. Dale made himself look like a guard, and he gave us all a veil of unnoticeability. We simply walked out. We found the caravan members in a barn teaching animal topics to some other folks. Dealing with them was easy, and getting the caravan members into a cart to depart the location was not too terribly difficult.
In the end, things could have ended much worse. I shall have to listen to my gut feeling when it comes to Orks from here on out. It is really conflicting, considering my own daughter is an Ork. Maybe I just raised her to be a normal civilized Namegiver. I hear the first six years of an Ork's life are the formative ones. Or maybe the combination of an Ork and an Elf parent changed her inherent impulsiveness? She still seems impulsive compared to other Namegivers; she just seems to impulse towards more noble motives. On the other hand, it would seem my predisposition towards humans was correct. They are not the noble race that R'edtarian, Dale, and Qwillem would lead anyone to believe. Here we have an entire Kaer of humans, and each acted as despicably as Taras does regularly: securing safety for himself and leaving his companions to the danger. Taras does seem much more paranoid than any of these humans, though. Maybe a trip to Vorst will not provide any insight. I should continue looking for a way there, anyway.
However, if we were to go back to the beginning of this entry, I did not really write out the worst part of this entire trip. Before finding the location of the Caravan, we were engaged with these things that resembled Namegivers. They had the most beautiful white skin with only a hint of blue, but the purple eyes and massive hands were a little off-putting. As I moved to strengthen R'edtarian, they split into three. Before we knew it, we were outnumbered three to one. R'edtarian fell in battle. I could not do anything to stop it. As I tried to help the others, Dale and Taras were able to drive them off. Vallone flew out of reach, which worried me a little because that left nothing between me and these cloning creatures. I watched as R'edtarian bled. Then he stopped bleeding. He stopped breathing. It was not fair for an honorable warrior to be slain during an investigation without even reaching the goal. If it were not for our last chance salves and Dale's Last Chance Spell, he would have been lost forever. I do not know how I can prevent this from happening in the future, but I must figure out a way to give our Adepts an edge during these hazardous situations. Someone who has shown himself a loyal guardian does not deserve to be put at such risk.
