Normally I would write this at home during my meditations, but

Penned at the reflections of Thejon the Hollow


The Halls of Arah, Rakai






Normally I would write this at home during my meditations, but by Thejon’s will this is too important to wait for. He has heard my plea!



I must hold my pen for a moment longer, and sum what I failed to write previously.




This week has been good for me. After our exploration of the late Cassuis’ home, as I wallowed at my embarrassment, Illoden - I dare call him a friend now - would not let me rest until we made our way to the Halls of Arah. It was there that I met Systus and was introduced to the temple.



We conducted the Dance of Absolution, with Systus leading me through the steps. It has been months since I stood in that circle and shown Arah the might I wield at His behest, as has been written:

I felt the call of Arah return to me, and in truth returned home with a renewed sense of honor. It was there that I lit incense to Thejon and N’thack’s fallen, as I have done countless nights before.



It was this morning, as I awoke and lit incense to the Hollow that Thejon replied. As I sat praying, he came to me as he did many years ago, in his hollow outside of N’Thack. He called to me with my old name, Treeripper, and appeared before me. His only instruction was to offer a sacrifice as Azel taught us, and he would promise me a gift to help me. Thejon reminded me that his promises are not easily broken, and though I may have dishonored him in action, our pact remained steady.



So it was with a renewed energy that I leapt up to make offering to Azel. The garden in our new house would suffice.



Though I had no fresh hunt, I offered the herbs of incense and two of my claws as we were taught. With a prayer I burned the offering in a small fire, calling upon my holy mother to bless me as She had her firbolg child Thejon.



If my story ended there, that would be enough for me. Hearing Thejon and his promise of his pact set my mind at ease. Imagine, then, as the fires of Azel yielded a creature, a large flying-mouse (bat) from the brazier. It was unheart by the fires, and landed on my shoulder. Shocked, I knelt in thanks to the mother of ursa and offered my gratitude as best I could.



It was then that I heard a voice inside my head, as though someone was speaking but only my ears could hear them. “Wouldja look at this fuckin’ characta’?” The voice was high pitched and rough around the edges, as if Zippy had aged backwards and lost his charm. “Thejon called dja Treerippa’ said you go by Rykkahd. He’s callin’ on my services, an’ I can’t say no to the Demonkiller himself, so I don’t have no choice about it. Name’s Masha, from the shit-cold reaches of the Abyss.”



From there on, as I knelt, the creature’s voice rattled on inside my head and I was so caught up in what was happening that I lost track of the conversation. I looked about, and when I saw others coming I instinctively thought, if this flying-mouse weren’t here I could leave without interruption.



“Whatevah’ ya say boss,” and the bat disappeared. I looked on my shoulder - I could feel its weight, but the creature wasn’t visible. Azel be praised.