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[Tammuz 29, 7789]

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Tammuz 29, 7789

It's been a week now - a lot can happen in a week.

The Makhyoon has returned from a pilgrimage, and with him - cold winds and whispers of the Wronged.

That poor goblin woman. I had only met her a time or two, and though she was unmistakably a goblin, there was still something about her that would have you guessing. Already there were threats and ultimatums against her. But I didn't think they'd be so quick to act.

Not to mention all the usual election drama. A lot can happen in a week.

——

I'm starting to get familiar with many of the new faces. There's a few that I'm comfortable working with. That Nadiri with the golems - Kaelen. Keiji. Some of the new Recluta - Flint, Su Bi.

Hans is the ranking officer in the 4th now. Sergeant Gilbracht. Been that way for a few weeks, he deserves it.

The tournament is in a few days and I need to make sure I've got a good menu. Even though they asked me to serve food - I still had to pay for some absurd one time permit. It wasn't much, but it's the principle of it. Whatever - I just hope everyone's hungry enough to make it worthwhile.

——

[Sleepy penmanship crawls across the page.]

Another one.
Different.

It's cold.
Dark.

And there it stood - looming.

A great orc - pale and crimson.
Lifeless.

I'm haunted by that jungle. That evil - turning our friends against us as they perished.

But there was no jungle in this nightmare-

——

[Tammuz 22, 7789]

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Tammuz 22, 7789

I couldn't place it - why the Well has felt so different. But I know why - he was is in my dreams last night, they both were. I think I didn't want to accept it, that he was gone. That he died out there. I keep thinking he's just busy with the election, that I'll run into him in the plaza, like we always do. Maybe that's why I didn't go to the League meeting. Because I knew, and then it would be real. It was always real with him. I wish- [A single tear stains the page.] I'm sorry I never told you Cort.

——

There was another dream too, less vivid - less [The pen ponders for a moment.] real. Two beetles, fighting each other over something. Was I one of the beetles? All I could do was watch.

Sometimes I wonder if I can still feel anything. I've been woke up with some new bruises. I don't know when they could have happened. I've felt numb ever since Bet Nappahi. Is it guilt again? Shame? Because I couldn't be there when the ones I love die.

Again.

——

[Tammuz 21, 7789]

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Tammuz 21, 7789

Another four days gone by. About the average we'd stay on a job. About the time we were into that ten day job.

A lot can happen in four days.

Cogs birthday party - hosted at Casa Manta. Food, drink, gifts. Games - riddles, raffles, and a cock fight of all things. More of a duel I suppose, it was Nibbs and Ramez polymorphed into chickens after all.

Then the fashion show. Not a lot of chefs in show, just me and Acolyte Dora. She made a lot of bread, from a little dough. But my Mango Bloom Salad made it, and my Shoe Buns are on sale now too. I modeled again for Bashir - an outfit dedicated to Narwen. And Asherias was modeling too - a beautiful dress made all the more on a beautiful woman. Sometimes I wonder- [The thought is struck away.]

And then some time in the kitchen with Tal. He's turning out to be quite the chef. In time, I'm sure he'd make for a great Sous.

All this, and yet I've found myself spending more and more time with Calliope. It's nice to see her about. Brewing potions and crafting wands - keeping those of us who defend our home well stocked.

——

[There's some apprehension in the ink.]

Love is a strange thing. A luxury in this desert, and a rare thing to find among the ash. Rarer even, in its truest form. But perhaps - a necessity, nonetheless.

I told Garen - about my feelings toward Calliope, and my feelings toward him. Why do I feel the need to keep things from him. To protect him? To protect myself? I don't think I would have, if Peyton hadn't encouraged me to.

I'd have understood if he- [A moment of contemplation.] but, I think he understood. How does one begin to explain - the nature of loving. He asked that I tell her of him, and I should will.

Love is a strange thing. I hope he understands.

——

[Manic penmanship scribbles about the page.]

It's on fire
All of it
The jungle

It's on fire

Where is he
I can't find him

Through the fire
And the flames

There he is
Weeping

Burning

——

[Tammuz 17, 7789]

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Tammuz 17, 7789

I'm finding it harder and harder to bring myself to write here. The days pass in the blink of an eye, and I'm floating through the aftermath in a daze.

There's some sense of normalcy though - Cogs left me a letter asking to host his birthday party, the fashion show and cook off is in a few days, the Well buzzes along, the Wheel turns, and ever forward we move.

But things will never be normal again.

——

[The penmanship is unsteady - a hint of distress.]

I told him everything. Everything. I didn't want to - but he had to know I had to tell him. I warned him, and now he knows. If he stays - then he stays, and maybe- [There's some amount of hesitation in the ink.] I won't blame myself this time. After all - he knows, I warned him, and he's choosing to stay.

I don't know what came over me - grief, fear. The thoughts of her - how she pulled me in the first time, the way our lips met. Did I want him, or did I miss her? I don't know what came over me.

——

[Some incomprehensible scribbles scratch against the page - from a distance, the vague shape of flames engulf a central shadowy figure.]

——

[Tammuz 15, 7789]

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Tammuz 15, 7789

With the War over, more refugees than ever have flocked to the Well. This place I've called home feels so different now. Is it even home anymore? Is home a place, or is it the people you make it with?

[The pen idles in thought against the page.] I don't have it in me to find a new home.

——

It wasn't just my friends that died at Bet Nappahi. Sayburgh had perished just after the first assault. Some deadly poison that brought her low before she could even act. [There's a moment of hesitation.] I'm not sure she deserved that.

And Vorazol. Caught between two of those terrible voids as the orcs split our lines. I witnessed it with my own eyes as Rhuk Nor and I were separated and forced to retreat. There was nothing I could do, and even if I could- [Another moment of hesitation.] I wouldn't.

Vengeance at last for the Flamebringer.

——

[Some sleepy penmanship scribbles across the page.]

Where am I
How did I get here
Who are these people

This is not the Krak de Roses
This is not the place I call home

By the Wheel, what have I done

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[Tammuz 14, 7789]

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Tammuz 14, 7789

All my friends are dead. Total Victory.

Where do I begin-. [The pen lingers for some time.]

At least I still have a home. At least he made it back, and she's still here too. But so many more didn't. A single ashsail made it home. Maybe there's still more that got separated during the fall of the Kusatma. Doubtful Maybe.

Where do I begin? Again.

Cort- [A tear stained scribble marks the page.]

Total Victory.
But at what cost-

——

[The penmanship is shaky and distressed.]

I can't sleep. It's deafening.
I can hear it.

The Jungle.

Their voices. Their cries.

They die.
They rise.
They die.

And again.

——

——

[Several blank pages are stained with mud, blood, and all manner of detritus.]

——

Will be out of town starting tomorrow 4/3 through Sunday 4/6.

And likely less active than I have been throughout the next 2.5 weeks.

If Ritz is needed, I'll check for letters and still be around the Discord, can work around scheduling time if she's needed.

[Hziran 29, 7789]

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Hziran 29, 7789

Something grave has happened. An Assembly of sorts, in audience of the Princess heir. A condemnation of Kha'esh and a seizure of Arslan - the Jackal did not take kindly to the message.

Something is brewing. And it's not going to be good.

——

[The penmanship is manic, filled with energy.]

I saw her again, Calliope. What little time she had away from her duties in the Priory, and I caught a glimpse of her in the Krak. I almost couldn't believe my eyes - but I'd never forget that face, that tenacious gait, that flash of red under the cowl.

We caught up for a time, it's been almost a month or so since I'd seen her. But it was still as if no time had passed at all. I took her to the restaurant, and showed her how well the oven's been working - for old time's sake. Oven spirits, who would have thought.

Then Garen showed up. Gerg made an appearance too.

I've missed her. More than I've been willing to admit. I hope I can see her again.

——

[Hziran 28, 7789]

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Hziran 28, 7789

There's been some commotion. Rowan's made another attack - and then he made it clear why. The trees - those magnificent wonders at the Abulmahhu. Their destruction, an affront to the Wyld and blasphemy against Her. In less words, but the sentiment felt. I- [There's a moment of reflection.] understand. I saw it with my own eyes. Even in the laments of the Kusatma, guilt and despair in its wail. This is what brought the Well under His gaze. This was the stone cast against Rowan - the Wyld only acts in turn.

——

The Sukaitza came by the restaurant for a dinner. It was Garen's first shift too.

It was quite enlightening. Who'd have thought to find an Asterabadi philosopher among them. It gave me a lot to think about, and some reading to do too.

They seemed to like my food though, everyone except for what appeared to be the ranking officer. I dont think I got her name- [A moment of thought.] Lekubarri? I need more fish.

——

[The penmanship is sleepy and loose.]

A dream of darkness

In the distance, a flame
All around me - cries of anguish.

And then silence

Darkness.

——

[Hziran 26, 7789]

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Hziran 26, 7789

So many new faces, it's hard to keep up. It's harder even - to know who to trust.

High Treason - Oswick and that gnome with the parrot, Ronald Goblinbutt- [The pen lingers in a moment of thought.] Reginald Goblinbane, for reasons unknown to me right now. Not that I thought I could trust them, after all one of them was thief and the other a gnome. But still - I'd never thought them capable of such betrayal.

I met a curious pair of new arrivals. An old man insistent that he was a young boy, dreaming - and that the Chalice would wake him from his slumber and reforge his body. Does he know that he already awoke? And then a woman - sickly and pregnant? intent on dismissing reality as a ruse. That this Disc we find ourselves on is a prison - our Gods merely children, and we their playthings.

Blasphemy clearly.

But I do wonder - have I ever been on a ship before?

——

[There's a manic edge to the penmanship.]

That's the last of it. Not that it was helping much anymore. It'd be a waste to ask for more.

He's getting too close. He admitted as much, and all I could do was run away. No warning, no rebuttal - no truth.

The truth is - I don't want to be alone anymore.

The truth is - I'll kill him.

——

[Hziran 24, 7789]

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Hziran 24, 7789

I've been learning more about the Wroth lately. The rightfully feared Eighth Spoke of the Wheel, for we are all judged under His gaze. But to repent for our sins and enact His vengeance - this is the only way to avert His wrath.

I wonder what the Wyld thinks of me - I've devoted my worship to Her ever since I awoke, and she blesses me everyday with her bounty. I honor Her - creating nourishing meals from Her harvest, tending the garden that is my home.

But I find myself harboring deep thoughts of revenge - against those that murdered my friend, against the evil that stole her from me.

——

Something frightening happened today. The charity chest in the Hope was cursed, and three spirits of a sort hovered about. There was some arguments - on whether this was a matter of faith and a task for the Speakers, but the Apothar Zol Nur made it clear his arcane knowledge was the answer. To which it seemed was the truth.

All the more reason to be frightened. The spirits spoke - at first, innocuous. A taste in the air. Could they smell me? And then a warning - blood, boiling and bubbling beneath, the sky falling in a thunderous clap.

The curse was lifted without much trouble - a concentrated effort between the faithful and the arcane. Inside were the tools of a necromancer, thought to be the source of the curse.

I'm not so sure.

——

[The penmanship is manic and hurried.]

I can hear it.
Taste it.

The boiling - thick and viscous.
Blood.

It grows louder.

They're still here.

——

[Hziran 22, 7789]

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Hziran 22, 7789

[There's some sense of catharsis in the penmanship.]

The Coiled Canyons - Sibilant defilers. Important work to be done. Important that even the Wroth would direct His gaze, and send a Makhyoon to see it done. The work was swift.

I learned of his Temple - of its tenets.

It's been some time I think, since His gaze has been drawn to the Well. There's a reckoning due.

An extra prayer to the Wyld tonight. [A scribbled star reminder.]

——

I've got a brand new steel pan now. Found among the treasures in the canyon - some culinary palette. Destined for Baz'eel from the looks of it, before it was intercepted by the Sibilant. Most of it not worth hauling home.
 
But this pan - by the Wheel was it my lucky day. Something truly deluxe, the Chef who ordered this is certainly devastated.

And Katya ordered some candy - she's hoping to have a meeting or something. With her neighbors.

——

[Hziran 21, 7789]

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Hziran 21, 7789

I'm thinking about Grenth again. The Wroth's gaze is upon the Well now, and these feelings of vengeance resurface. There's whispers of a Makhyoon and some Temple of the Vigilante. And though the Wroth has already answered my prayers - they're still out there, the conspirators.

Perhaps, at the very least - I can offer a tithe.

——

I finally caught up with Haknar - I showed him the new contract and he signed it on the spot, even complimented me on my writing. I had no idea he was teaching the refugees how to read and write- [A brief moment of thought.] at least enough to sign an enlistment contract.

I have a good feeling now - I think we're on the same page, and we can both benefit from this relationship. He even met Gerg, and they seemed to get along. Hopefully the rest of the oven spirits will feel the same. I can't afford any trouble in the kitchen.

——

[An ashy streak stains the margin as something is brushed away.]

I don't know where he got them, and so quick too. Two fresh packs in no time. I guess he is a Senior Scribe, he'd know where they keep all the cigarettes they use to stock the worm-exchange.

I've missed it - and she's not here to tell me not to.

And neither is she.

I don't think the water is working anymore, I'm not sleeping well. I'm not dreaming either, but I'm not sleeping.

——

[The penmanship trembles - shaking in some amount of pain.]

It's your fault.
It's all your fault.

——

[Hziran 19, 7789]

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Hziran 19, 7789

Just when I thought the restaurant was keeping me busy enough - now I'm spearheading some project for the Smithing Guild.

Lujayn has grant money. She wants to fund the apprenticing of refugees, that they may learn a craft and find purpose - a noble cause. The request was obviously aimed at Dudley - considering she's the head of the guild. But I suppose I was the one who suggested shovels so it's my responsibility now. Lujayn was also talking to Katya, about supporting the Balladeers with this grant money too - a smart move.

She'll make a great politician.

I need to talk to Theo.

——

A tea party - it'll be perfect. Garen's been able to brew up some tea that will go great with my pastries. Now to just finalize the menu and make the announcement. I have a feeling I'll need more tea - it's not something commonly brewed around the Well, and I'm sure there'll be more than a few curious patrons.

Garen also gave me some perfume. It was lovely, but I hope- [There's some amount of hesitation.] I'm not getting too close I don't give him the wrong idea. But he's also got some good recipes for useful incense and these baubles of darkness.

I wonder if I should try my hand at merchanting. Ritz's Antique & Thrift.

——

[The penmanship is harsh, pressed and scratched into the page.]

There is no justice in the halls of jurisprudence. Oswick made magistrate, false confessions, and the 4th - hamstrung by politics and bureaucracy.

But now, Cort says the Wroth is on the Stele.

And now, it calls to me.
Beckoning for vengeance.

Wroth on the Stele.

——