Dear Journal,

Last night I had written that I had found a guide. Well, what a tale that is to tell. You see, the halfelven monk I befriended, in Lady Oleani's garden, turned up again in the unlikeliest of places, and what's more, he had a friend who agreed to take me to the landing.

You will never guess, but he is a giantkin, one of the lesser races I have never spoken with at any length. I have heard that they are not much for conversation and, that they are unpredictable, but this had proven to be untrue, at least in this case. As well as this, my Tonisian monk friend assures me he possesses good character and would "take good care of me." Since the half-elf is a Luukos-fearing man of the Gods I have had no reason to doubt his word.

I have not been disappointed. The giant is as gentlemanly as can be expected from the lesser races, and we have gotten along alright. We do not travel for as long in one day as I did with the Vaalorians, and for that I am grateful, as he is a bit hard to keep up with. I am writing this now under a lantern lit by the blue light of an essence flower - very useful. He is a sorcerer, you see, apparently self taught with a bit of help from his adopted kin. He has informed me that he was raised by a well regarded human family, and they are deeply involved in some kind of important, and secret, guild in Solhaven. As his mother was on with them, when she died, instead of being taken to an orphanage he was taken in by one of the other families in the guild, as is tradition amongst them, he tells me. There is little else he will explain about his background.

He is travelling to the Landing in order to secure some "rare magical ingredients" for a wealthy client, in Vornavis. He won't say what it is, and I didn't press him. Other than his penchant for secrets, I have found him to be an excellent and intelligent conversationalist, despite the rumors about giantkin to the contrary that I have heard about.

I am concerned about what I will do when I reach the Landing. I am low on funds. The gods will surely at least look after me, and, even if I have not yet been chosen, I am certain I will not be without Koar's Providence.

Rak, as I have taken to calling my giantkin friend, short for Rakshakvana, is surprisingly well read. He has even studied the elven treatises on the founders of the great houses, knows all of the rulers of Nations by hear, and more importantly, he knows all of the gods by symbol and by their realm of influence. As well as this, he knew quite a lot about the Church of Koar in the Empire, and how it differs from the Vaalorian sentiment. I would almost say he is as smart as an elf, if that is at all possible. Something which pleases me is that he is also religious and respectful to the Gods. At some point he was being eyed for service as a cleric within his guild, but, was found to be favored by the dark gifts of sorcery instead. Despite his interest in the dark arts, he is a child of Liabo, and personally follows Lord Tonis. He does not dabble in necromancy or any uncouth magics. His 'family' are great patrons of the "Church of the Trinity of the Family", as he called it: Phoen, Oleani and Tonis, and some other Arkati's temple he would not name. He says he felt like it was Tonis who protected him as a youth and gave him the gift of magic, and calling to "the royal art of sorcery" as he calls it.

We are already at the foot of the Dragonspine, having passed through the forests and hills above Solhaven. We were fortunate in that we encountered no orcs or trolls of any sort, though tomorrow we pass through a part of the way that is rumored to be home to mountain ogres - vicious brutes without any intelligence except what they can muster to catch and eat travelers. We shall have to be quiet, quick and wary. Luckily for us, Rak is dispossessed of the clumsiness and oafishness I've heard about some giants, and he does not lack in sheer strength, despite this. I am at ease.

I have become quite relieved and am certain that the Gods are smiling upon me. When we get to the landing, I will attempt to secure passage to Ta'Vaalor.


...................(¯`'•.¸ § ~ * Sponsored by the Cleric's Guild, Wehnimer's Landing Chapter~ § ¸.•'´¯)...................


ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°Work Scholarships Available for underprivileged Turamzzyrian youth!º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤


.............................................-:¦:JOIN-:¦:KOAR'S-:¦:ARMY-:¦:TODAY!..............................................

---

Rakshakvana peered over the edge of the rock face, catching glimpses of the blonde sylvankind struggling up the huge boulder from above, merely one small pebble it seemed, in the sea of boulders blocking the shortcut through the Dragonspine Mountains. Panting and exclaiming some sort of elven curse, the wood elf had easily conquered most of the rockslide, but had clearly run out of energy for the final part of the obstacle. He let his pack fall to the ground and pulled a hemp rope and climbing hook from it before securing it to a crevice. With a carefully aimed flick, he tossed the other side of the climbing rope down the boulder's face, where the pile of coils landed unceremoniously on top of her head. "Thanks!" he heard her shout from below, as he pressed a boot on to the rope, just in case.

She ascended easily with the assistance, and stood at the top of the rockslide, red faced, leaning over, her breath coming out in little puffs of steam against the cool, alpine air. Rakshakvana sat down for a moment, tired as well. This was the worst part of the journey, not only because of the blockade of stone they had just conquered, but because of the ogres who descended from the higher parts to feed on unwary travelers. Rakshakvana scanned the ridgeline for any signs of trouble - boulders that were not quite boulders - crouching orc scouts or stalking ogres; the former much less dangerous but with higher intellect. They had made good time, and he had not yet had cause to regret his additional travelling companion, although she had nearly invoked a tavern brawl upon them a few days before.

Elves were generally rare in the human Empire. While the Turamzzyrians regarded his kind as merely taller, long lost cousins adapted to the fierce climes of mountains and wilderness, the elves had asserted themselves as the stewards of the "lesser races" long ago. These "lesser races" were comprised of anyone who was not an elf - beings that lives for thousands of years.


This did not sit well with humans - who were unimpressed by elven longevity, and the benefits provided to them from the elves had become a dim memory. Now it seemed elves were only a threatening alien force, that might rise up and conquer them, ruling the whole world as they had in ancient days. Some of the Southern dark elves, the Dhe'nar, still held slaves of any race other than their own, and worse, still indulged in gruesome cuisine focused on small folk - halflings and gnomes. The elves Rakshakvana knew through his deep connections in the criminal underworld were not at all like that, and seemed to hold gnomes in great esteem. The black market of Ta'Nalfein valued flesh only inasmuch as it held political power or secrets that could be traded for such. The gnome servants of the great families of Ta'Nalfein were treated like royalty by those who could afford to retain them, as there were no finer engineer-artisans in Elanthia. A gnomish clock was the only clock found on the mantle of any respectable family. As well as this, his own kind found a steady living as bodyguards or soldiers for the higher class families.

Despite the veneration and respect with which many of the Elven Nations treated these so-called "lesser races," most humans in the Empire recalled only the habits of the jungle dwelling Dhe'nari elves, even though these were not even well liked by many of the shining Elven cities to the East of the Dragonspine, and many Dhe'nar despised those who indulged in the flesh of humanoids. The Dhe'nar, it seemed to him, at least those very few who he had met, were as polite as the most refined of the Nalfein, who had always treated the young Rakshakvana with respect while he attended to his adopted family's illicit business in the black market there, but no amount of etiquette could compensate for the odd Dhe'nari's grotesque dining habits, and their occasional unapologetic pride in this area.

Aeonelas was a sylvan, usually seen as a harmless sort of elf, if not exotic, in nearly every city and village on Elanith, both elven and elsewise. The forest-dwelling kin of the Nations, he recalled, were sometimes viewed as backwards country bumpkins by the many metropolitan lords and ladies of Ta'Nalfein, as he remembered. Her golden, almond-shaped eyes fixed upon him with a steady gaze, and he could sense that she was about to ask another of her seemingly endless questions.

"Are you very devout?" she asked, glancing at a small Liabo moon symbol pinned to his pack, a typical amulet sold at religious shops to the common folk. "The Arkati seem to like me just fine" he answered. "How did you choose your patron?" she asked, struggling to untwist the back straps of her pack as she set about securing it to her shoulders and waist with the rough fibulae.

Rakshakvana hesitated to answer, wondering inwardly where the conversation would lead. "Well, he kind of chose me. Not really something one goes about choosing." he finally replied, as he started up the rocky remnants of the trail, leading deep into the lower Dragonspine. She scuffled hurredly behind him, hefting her pack further up on her shoulders. "That's what I've been trying to tell my teachers, that one can't just choose an Arkati. They want me to, anyways." she babbled on as he walked ahead, in silence, "I mean all of the clerical textbooks say one can't just choose an Arkati, a sign must be given, and I haven't received any signs, so...." Rakshakvana stayed silent for another twenty minutes but she just kept talking, about every single God in the lands it seemed, and what she thought about them.

"And I'd be just fine as a cleric of Ronan, but I'm pretty sure I would have to join Voln just to have a chance of catching his eye, and I haven't yet decided if I want to hunt undead, as they are very disgusting, but oh, I am fond of unicorns..." she paused suddenly to catch her breath before continuing "and the best part about the Brotherhood of Ronan is that all the clerics dress very fine, very fine indeed..."

Rakshakvana raised his hand and halted, suddenly, on the rocky trail. Aeonelas stopped talking immediately. At least she paid attention, when it was important, he thought. "There's a camp up ahead." he said quietly, pointing to a thin stream of smoke on the horizon. Aeonelas' eyes widened, "Bandits?" she whispered, suddenly aware of the volume of her own loud voice. "Not sure." said Rak, his attention turning to a ridge on their left side. He beckoned her to follow, and the pair clambered up the side of the rocky ridge, crawling to an overlook. A figure hunched over a fire in the meadow below, next to a patched, grey tent. A dappled silver mare was grazing hungrily on the summer alpine flowers. Rakshakvana noticed a pile of supplies wrapped in netting under a tarp near the entrance of the tent.

"Merchant, would be my guess." said Rakshakvana, shortly. He turned over and pulled himself to his feet with the branches of one of the slender fir trees dotting the ridge.
"Stay here while I scope it out. Should be fine." he murmured. He began descending the ridge, and shouted "Hello friend!" as he approached the camp, in order to avoid being misidentified as an orc. He could see now that the figure was a human, old and dressed in the garb of the wandering seer-priests of the Jastevian order. A branch of the Church of Koar, they were a peculiar lot, always moving from city to city according to the whims of their God, and the readings of the various oracular instruments, such as the tarot, and dachres.

The eyes of an elderly grey bearded human fixed on him, and smiled slightly. Regarding Rak was clearly a strain for the old man as his bent form was tightly wrapped in a thick woolen blanket, so the giantkin knelt down to meet him at eye level, across from the fire. "Ah, I was wondering when you two would arrive..." the old longbeard cackled at him, and continued, "You're clearly the tall, dark one, but, where's the other, the youthful courier?" Rakshakvana turned back to the ridge, the silhouette of it embraced in pink and blue as Phoen sunk below the horizon. He raised his arm to wave Aeonelas down. She stood up, and, after examining her choices for descent, surfed down a gravelly part of the cliff, steadying herself gracefully with her staff as she kicked up an enormous dust trail, before lightly and quietly skipping up to the edge of the fire, crouching beside Rak. "Ah, a girl, and a wood-elf at that, I did not see that in the runes!" chuckled the old man. "Well met, young ones. I am Frater Nankh, and this is Electrum, he croaked, pointing at the mare, who was still decimating the meadow flowers.

"You're a holy man, aren't you?" exclaimed Aeonelas, excitedly noting his clerical accoutrements. Nankh stroked his beard, smiling toothlessly at Aeonelas with a twinkle in his eye, before exclaiming, "Not that holy my dear, but come, we shall settle in by the fire for the night, after you bring down the stray urgh to the north of here, then, we shall eat like kings and share in your tale of the road." Rakshakvana peered at the human curiously, and asked, surprised, "There's an urgh, up here?" Nankh chuckled at him and said, "Truffle fattened, hardly off its mothers' teats and ready for the spit! He's wandered up here to feast on the summer berries, no doubt, but he is a gift from Lord Jastev to us three this night." Rakshakvana knew better than to doubt the word of one of these clerics, and the pair of adventurers set out the short distance to see what was behind the small hill to the north. They found the pig-like animal exactly where the old man said he would be. It was noisily snuffling through the underbrush, recklessly ignoring everything but the berries it indulged in with gusto, and the foolish creature was easily brought down by sorcerer's gruesome, jugular bursting magic. The berry patch that was its doom consisted of delicious blue cuctucae berries, and Aeonelas gathered as many of the valuable sweets as she could in her tunic, while Rak quickly gutted and tied the urgh up, preparing to drag it back to the camp.

It was just turning night by the time they returned, and the moon of Liabo hung low and large, silhouetting the thin alpine tree tops beautifully with her brilliant white-gold face. Aeonelas sighed happily as she gazed up at it, finding it a comfort, despite her recent circumstances. The urgh meat was truly delicious, sweet and savory, a perfect companion to the ripe blue cuctucae berries. They talked and traded stories of the Gods for hours, with Aeonelas taking advantage of the situation by asking the human everything he could possibly know, and not know, about the Arkati. "Ah, I know exactly which Arkati has their eye on you" the old cleric teased, "but I cannot tell you, as you might lose your way." Nankh said to Aeonelas, pointing a bony finger wrapped in a grey quartz chaplet at her. Aeonelas did not speak anymore about it that evening.

The trio went to sleep easily, protected by a shimmering sanctuary that the old cleric had evoked. It was a strange thing, and Aeonelas watched the walls of the barrier and its hypnotic, colorful living paintings, occasionally seeing visions of her past and future in the entheogenic mists of the sanctuary, until finally, she dropped off to sleep.

Dear Journal,

We continue on the road, and have found a travelling companion, a cleric of Lord Jastev! He will accompany us to the Landing, before he departs to Icemule. Since he is a very experienced, godly man, we have no fear of bandits or orcs, and sleep beneath a sanctuary each night. I really do think the gods are looking after me, and everything will be alright, despite everything.