Mesic Stare 12, I think
I must say, that having parted ways with the Turathian army in search of a different life, I did not expect such upheaval so quickly. Within days of my arrival in Briargate, I was abducted by humans apparently at the behest of the arch-Wizard, Acererak. I remember his name, but not precisely in what context I first heard it. Apparently I was to be a, hmm, somewhat unwilling participant in a ritual he was to perform – one which required that I relinquish certain parts of me that I’m not quite done using.The first two weeks have passed since my escape from Acererak’s tower, in the company of the group who rescued me from him. In accompanying them on their escape route, I seem to have been vaulted through some form of mystic tunnel to their home.
In the future.
I’m still disconcerted by this. Temporomancy as I’ve known it has been extremely limited, usually confined to the acquisition of knowledge from the future, and that being a very vague and often dishonest thing. I have, all my considerable life, felt that divination and its related practices are little more than parlor games practiced by two-copper frauds. And yet, I find that a hand of fate has reached back centuries, perhaps millennia, and plucked me forward from my time to this. Which of course means that my time to this one is merely history…as this one no doubt is to its own future (or is that futures?). I find I have drained my bottle of whiskey in the effort to comprehend the meanings of it.
So here I sit, in my quarters at the inn, contemplating that I, a product of my time, have been vaulted into a future where not only is my former captor deceased, but his tomb was constructed (and this a not-inconsiderable effort, apparently being workmanship legendary in and of itself: the most well-designed and well-protected tomb in this world’s history), lost, buried, and re-discovered. Acererak himself is doubtless gone with the ages, either moved on to another mode of being or having been judged and channeled by the Black Queen herself. I am told that the wars between Arkhosia and Bael Turath have since spelled the doom of both empires, and now the likes of men, dwarves, and elves pick through the ashes of our empires’ death spasms.
And what of me? I am now in a world where it is likely none of my contacts exist any longer, most if not all of them having since passed into dust. I’ll be lucky if even the Hrovka Uvitci are still active. I’m sure my former commander is still extant, Balenor was a high-ranking member of his fiendish caste, but whether he even still maintains contact with the lines of Bael Turath is unknown. He may have moved to more profitable grounds since his association with us.
So, all I have for now are the adventuring troupe who have found me. They are a fairly accomplished group from all I have been able to pick up so far, having established themselves a small township near a site they reclaimed from barbarian humanoids a while back. There is that mention of time again…I still reel at the implications.
Who are they? They seem rather disparate…to my knowledge, none of them knew one another prior to more than a year or two ago. None share a common ancestry, and in fact it seems the one thing they all have in common is that they are all wildly different from one another.
There is Bingo, a halfling ranger – who is shockingly good with that tiny bow of his. Who would have thought that such short arms could loft an arrow with such force or accuracy? I always knew the smaller breeds were good with their hands, but to see him fling arrows begs reason. It takes all the willpower at my command not to order him about, as I am unaccustomed to seeing his species acting as freedmen. Apparently with the fall of Bael Turath, the halflings were divorced from ownership, and have developed a society that is self-governing. This surprises me – when I first was rescued by the band, I was somewhat alarmed that anyone would trust a halfling with a weapon in any fashion other than to port it for them. Never mind have them fight. But it seems they have taken to freedom well, and it is probably far too late to get them back under the harness and whip without a dramatic and violent reduction in their number.
Sered, the deva, confuses me. I suspect this is because it is, itself, confused. At times I cannot even say with authority what sex it portrays upon itself. Apparently in the final stages of the wars of my empire, the devas underwent some transformative event that has stripped them of much of their connections to the Astral Sea and planted them much more fully in the realm of mortality. There are apparently still angels aplenty upon that plane, but a large constituency of them were caught up in our conflict, and somehow made mortal as a result of it. No doubt brought into it by the Arkhosians, to try to counter our own fiendish supporters. Serves them right, probably betrayed by the Yuan-ti before the last…no good ever seems to have come from dealing with those serpentine infidels. Sered, meanwhile, appears to be seeking something…glory, vengeance, I cannot quite tell, but his (I use the gender term loosely here, until I know with more solidity what it considers itself) penchant for flinging himself more deeply into combat has no rationale that I can currently divine. He seems akin to a berserk from the North, combat ignites him and he has a difficult time controlling his passion for it.
Ebon is a warlock of some form, and a half-elf (as if there wasn’t enough androgynous gender issues among this group). Very portable. Seems to teleport during a fight almost at random, and has his elvish ancestors’ insatiable curiosity…I am concerned that I might end up having to clean his remains up off the floor if that curiosity carries him too far. Still and all, for a cross between a human and a greenspawn, he’s quite competent at directing his will. He appears to be pacted with some stellar influence. Doesn’t seem to be from the Far Realm, so there is at least some safety in that. The two warlocks I’ve met in my history that were, were both deeply and subtly insane…if this one had been I would be seeking a quick exit before the influence of that Realm warped his mind enough to have him flaying his compatriots simply to see what colors they bled. Hopefully this one will be considerably more stable. He certainly seems a friendly fellow, and sharp with the occasional barb. I suspect many a good game of darts and drinking shall follow in time.
Wynter…is a confusing horror to me. While occasionally Bael Turath would employ legions of the undead as shock troops and disposable battalions, Wynter seems to be a free-willed revenant. What his ongoing purpose for remaining in this half-alive state I cannot say. I have always felt living in one’s deceased flesh to be akin to eating from one’s filthy chamber-pot, and although I can see that the mind that drives this pile of cold meat has noble intention, I cannot help but feel the shudder of revulsion at its proximity to me. Do not spirits have the alternative to seek the favor of the Black Queen and be returned to living flesh? Death is death, but continuity on this plane does not have to be such a permanent state of…halted decay. Whatever drives it must be of terrible import, to force it to accept this wretched half-life. I can only hope that one day this creature’s purpose is sated enough to allow it rest, or that it be offered the chance to fulfill its goal in a more complete body. Hopefully a more suitable one than the gnomish mutation that it possessed in its past life. Yes, this one was a gnome before its untimely demise. I have never understood gnomes…did the gods or primordials that fashioned them simply run out of flesh, and were they then forced to make do with what little they had remaining? Sharp-witted vermin they always seemed to me…though come to think of it, I do recall several wizards who kept rats as pets, and those were quite affectionate and clean. The rats, that is. The wizards were considerably more…cluttered. Perhaps there is more to the gnome than I gave thought to, originally.
On the other hand, perhaps not.
Rhogar…a winged Dragonborn, this one seems barely sentient, though quite effective as a trained combatant. A bit like Balenor’s war constructs, come to think of it. I have not had much time to establish whether this creature will be a threat to me personally or not. Many centuries have passed, so the old hatreds may not mean much to this one’s tribe. I certainly don’t think my own exploits in the wars will have earned enough reputation to make it to this one’s ears. I will keep my vision open, but I don’t expect trouble here. As it disappeared shortly after my rescue, I don’t know whether it will be an ongoing fixture around which I will be able to build strategies. If it is like the other Dragonborn I have seen in this time, then it probably has a fairly strong tolerance for intoxicants, so at the very least it will show me where to find the quality drinking establishments in this village.
Althea, an Eladrin, definitely female, and extremely fast with a blade. Not truly a front-line combatant, but certainly one who knows where to place her weapons for maximum effect. I have already had the occasion to team up with her in a fight or two, and with good result. I would suspect that if we can work out a few details, our proficiencies will serve as a strong force multiplier in future fights. Of her history I know little, but my impression is that she is unusually city-oriented for one of her kind. It is possible that she hails from the Fey courts themselves, which would be very intriguing to me. It would signal that the Eladrin take a much greater interest in this world today than they did in my time. I recall during my career we had sent numerous diplomatic envoys to the Courts of the Seasons, and while Spring and Autumn never even made their locations known to us in the Feydwer, Winter and Summer both met with us and refused involvement in various ways. I do wonder if there may be something changing in the Feydwer, the inhabitants even back then seemed to be inching towards settlement of this world. Whatever Althea’s motivations are for being here rather than in the Feydwer remain occluded to me.
Nix – a fully-human wizard. At least, I think he is human. He seems to be able to change his appearance in some ways that baffle me. Perhaps he is simply closely related to humanity, or is something I just have never encountered before. As with all wizards, he is quite accomplished in the mystic arts, but I suspect if he had to throw down with something face-to-face, it would likely mince him into a fine sausage. Still and all, he is quick on his feet, and knows to avoid just such an encounter. His competence is welcome, even if the runes glowing in tattoos upon his flesh are a bit…disturbing.
Finally, there had been a dark-elf priest among them, who went by name of Vizrith, but who has since taken leave of the party. Knowing his kind, some imagined slight was no doubt behind it, and I shall keep an eye over my shoulder for his inevitable return. Better my arrow in his eye than his knife in my back. I remain mildly surprised that even this group would tolerate the presence of such a being – no sane Shadrim (which is itself an interesting study in irony, given our blood heritage) would trust such a creature nearby while sleeping. I suppose the other races simply do not possess the historical knowledge we do, and will eventually learn through experience. Still, with an Eladrin here, I would have thought…but surprises abound with this bunch.
All in all, as I suspected, working with an adventuring group poses its challenges – they are certainly not as organized or regimented as the military styles I am accustomed to, but in spite of this they seem to be able to overcome challenges by a combination of brute blundering force and seemingly random or haphazard synergies. I hope in the coming days I will be able to at least push the rudiments of tactical execution into their minds, though I think any such education will have to be a soft-sell. There is material I can work with, though, and I look forward to seeing what they can do when put to the real test.
Meanwhile, I am trying to ascertain the motivations that drive this band – we recently have set forth to invade a hill giant camp, apparently in response to the massing of giants near settlements of less sizeable species more closely allied to the group’s members. Some old man named Orontor or Obanar from a city called Argent seems to be the driving force behind the group’s actions, though his relationship to them is unknown to me. The group itself seems to have established itself in the township of Al’Veydra, so its association with Argent I will have to ferret out during a campfire conversation along the way here.
As I write this, we are setting out to disrupt their logistics train, and hopefully locate their village or camp. If we are successful in this, our intent is to decapitate the giant’s forces by eliminating their chieftain and his top retainers or shamen. Occasionally I can see several smoke plumes as from campfires or a lodge over the next ridge, so we are probably drawing close. Osiris has reported no unusual sightings along our trail ahead, and has just confirmed some kind of giant village snug up against the mountainside, so it would seem we are getting closer. We have not been ambushed along the way so far, and have seen few patrols, so it is my guess that the giants do not consider organized resistance or counterstrike a likelihood. Advantage to us, then.
Bingo has just indicated that this is where we should dismount and continue on foot. I shall return to this journal when we complete the mission. Until then, please watch over us, my Queen, and claim not my companions, but direct our hands to your harvest from among our enemies. My offering of blood and souls for your Weave is imminent…
