Journey to Alfarid

Seventh day of Solae, 1485
 
Well, I didn’t have a restful meditation last night… and it wasn’t altogether due to the fact that we were staying the in lair of a vampire… rather, it was the constant interruptions…
 
First, it was Dekar… I had just begun to sink into my meditation when he approached me. At first, I was alarmed, because he doesn’t normally seek me out for conversation - much less disturb my rest to do so. He asked if I could cast the Dream spell on him, to walk into his dreams and search his memories. There is a place that he has been, but cannot remember, and he hopes that I can help him relive the memory so he can remember. I explained that I was able to walk through Damian’s memories with him, but I honestly don’t know if that is because of what Damian is, or if it is something that I will be able to replicate with Dekar. I also warned him that I was unable to control Damian’s dream, and I couldn’t choose what memories we saw… and that… the fact that I saw everything that Damian did… I don’t want to see anything that Dekar would prefer be kept private… I can’t control what I will see, and I know he has seen many things that he likely doesn’t want to share.
 
Dekar said he is fine with whatever I may see, as he has nothing to hide. How someone can live the lifestyle that he has, and still be comfortable with someone else looking into their memories, I do not understand… I don’t wish to look into my own memories of the war, much less share them with someone who wasn’t there…
 
Dekar did say that he doesn’t want me to see what he saw in the trees in Latria… he said that I don’t want to see what he saw in the trees. But, he said he will try to avoid thinking about it, because he doesn’t want to remember or relive that experience either. Meriwald chose that moment to interject in a teasing voice, “that’s not going to work!”
 
As much as I hate to admit it, Meriwald is likely right… I don’t entirely know if I want to see the memories that Dekar has… it’s not the memories of war that I’m concerned about, for I have seen battle… it is more the memories of his life and childhood – I have the feeling that I may not be able to look at him the same, depending on what they are… for, he conducts himself like someone who has seen far too much trauma in a young life and has tried to cut himself off from all emotions except anger. I think it must be a survival mechanism of some kind… But, I trust Dekar to know what he is and is not okay with me knowing… so I agreed. I will cast Dream on him whenever we have a good opportunity.
 
I almost forgot to mention, the gnome, Rowan, went off on her own earlier. She came up to me and said that she needed to go do “druid shit.” I don’t know what she meant by “shit”… is it a gnome idiom or something? I’ve heard it used in numerous contexts, obviously, but with how odd she is… I hope she isn’t going to try to track down the hydra by its scat… gross.
 
Meriwald was chasing a mouse – something that Dekar noticed was odd… apparently Meriwald has seen numerous mice and rats in this place. I am too tired to deal with it right now, so Meriwald left to show Dekar what he was talking about.
 
I resumed my meditation… just in time to be interrupted again. This time by Secilia.
 
She seemed completely clueless… does she not understand that interrupting my meditation is just as disruptive as walking over to Grimaldus or Dekar and kicking them awake? No… she probably doesn’t. After all, she is a child who was deprived a relationship with her parents – and I seriously doubt the church that raised her would have taught her the benefits and logistics of meditation…
 
And, just like Dekar, she wasn’t disturbing me for something urgent… her questions could easily have waited until morning… she wanted to know what I know of the undead curse. Seriously? I know how to kill undead… I haven’t spent a great deal of time researching them or studying the curse… I try to avoid the undead whenever I can… I told her that she should talk to Inira if she wants more information about undead… for she is the one who raises them…
 
Finally, I was able to get some rest…
 
In the morning, the vampire Ostraba took the refugees and made their way for the fishing village where we met Hasim and Secilia. She thinks they might be safer there. I don’t know, they might be… but I’m more inclined to think that they are all doomed and that there is nothing that can be done about it.
 
Then we left. We decided to make our way to Alfarid, and come back to deal with the hydra later… I find this to be a relief, as we are not currently prepared to intelligently deal with it… I want to have more information before we venture into the swamp after a dark beast.
 
As we set out on the road, following Grimaldus (for he knows the way to Alfarid), we passed a series of torture racks and breaking wheels… people were in various states of torture or decay. It’s disturbing… what people would put up with this level of depravity from their leaders? This explains so much more about Grimaldus’ hatred of the snake people…
 
We came upon a man holding up a sign, warning us that we were entering the territory of the man-eaters. I was thinking that we were going to have to fight him, but he’s apparently a friend of Grimaldus. He is a big man, goes by the name Arslan, and he bears a lightning bolt scar on his chest. Grimaldus seemed happy to see him, and they talked in Yongrel for a time. I picked up much of it, but not everything, as they spoke very quickly and his accent is different than Grimaldus’.
 
Arslan apparently belongs to a group of Kord worshipers who call themselves Repatriats, and they live in the south of Rajendros, where the olive trees wither. He claims that whenever one of them dies or is killed, a statue there brings them back to life. I am skeptical, and Grimaldus’ apparent surprise makes me even more skeptical.
Arslan seems to be a decent enough man though… he didn’t even seem the least bit surprised at my presence, at least, no more than any of the others’, so that is at least in his favor.
 
Grimaldus talked him into leading us to the man-eaters… and joining us in destroying them. If it weren’t for the fact that they were preying on (in the literal sense of the word), travelers and refugees fleeing the swamp, I would have almost felt bad… they were mostly half-naked and wielding clubs… it was a slaughter. The only one that I felt no remorse for whatsoever was the leader, well, the leader and whatever the magic-wielding priestess (?) was that accompanied her… they were obviously preying on the others’ simple minds, and seemed to be orchestrating the whole thing… a fact that was driven home with a demon of pestilence and decay was summoned by their sacrificial deaths.
 
We dispatched the demon without too much difficulty, but it poisoned Dekar and Grimaldus… I am just relieved that they seem to be better now…
 
Arslan is camping with us tonight… I don’t know how I feel about his presence, but he seems to be decent enough…
 
 
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Eighth day of Solae, 1485
 
We are now traveling in a wagon, that of an overly obese wine merchant named Bekir. I was (again!) roused from my meditation by the arrival of this man and his cart. Dekar apparently met with him, and… unsurprisingly, this merchant also knows Grimaldus… this Bekir offered to give us a ride to Alfarid in exchange for us protecting him and his wagon on the road.
 
It has been an uneventful day, overall. We passed around some of the wine, it isn’t bad by any means, but it naturally doesn’t hold a candle to Alcarin wine… why is it something as simple as wine that makes me feel a pang of homesickness? I couldn’t wait for an excuse to leave Alcarin, and now, I find myself wishing for a glass of its wine.
 
Today will be a short entry… Dekar is falling asleep now, so I’m going to wait for him to fully fall asleep, then I shall cast Dream and we will see what happens…
 
Later…
 
Well, that was disconcerting… I found myself in a mountain of corpses… the weight of them bearing down on my body, suffocating the breath from my lungs. I had to use all of my strength to pull myself out, I didn’t know where Dekar was, and I feared that if I blasted my way out, I would risk harming Dekar - especially because if this is the dream that I entered, then I was loathe to find what he was reliving. I finally was able to claw my way free, and then I saw Dekar running towards me, clawing his way up the mountain of bodies.
 
A black dog with pointed ears was following him. It said some cryptic things about Dekar needing to find eleven pieces of something that he must reunite in order to learn the knowledge he seeks. What knowledge is he seeking so badly that he would be speaking to an entity like this dog - for I know not what it is, but I know that it must be some dark entity… dogs do not speak of the things that this entity spoke of.
 
Then, as promptly as it began, the spell ended and I found my consciousness back in my own body. I didn’t end the spell. What the fuck happened? There is no way that something should have been able to invade Dekar’s dream (for he told me that he hasn’t ever seen or meet a creature like that much less be able to end my spell! It didn’t even cast a dispel magic, it just faded away, and with it, my spell. It didn’t tell me much, but it did mention that I should ask Secilia for more information… alas… what has the girl gotten herself mixed up in?
 
I need to meditate now… I need to work this out in my mind… I cannot have something infiltrating my spells, and I don’t want such an entity infiltrating my friends’ minds either…
 
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Ninth day of Solae, 1485
 
Fuck this city! We are in Alfarid now. How a man like Grimaldus grew up and lived in a place that is as barbaric and horrible as this, I do not know… As we rode into the city, we passed more breaking wheels and starving people in stocks. One was a young boy… a child in stocks. His mother was begging to be able to feed her son, and the guards shoved her away. The others looked disturbed, except Grimaldus and Hasim… they seemed to expect the same.
 
I caught Secilia’s eye… I tried to subtly shake my head to deter the rage that I could see hardening her face. I know, and I sympathize, but we need to bide our time and learn a bit more about this place before we act…
 
A few minutes later, I had to force myself to follow my own advice. Hasim was leading us to a brothel, and a couple young women were watching us curiously. A guard noticed and began whipping them to force them back inside the building… I could feel the tingling sensation of magic as I subconsciously began gathering magic in my palm. How dare he? Fortunately Grimaldus intervened, for I don’t know what I would have done had he not… I have sent an ice bolt through a man’s groin for less.
 
Grimaldus deescalated the situation though, handing the man a pouch of gold in exchange for the two girls. Momentarily, I was shocked. I didn’t want to believe that Grimaldus would buy a couple of slave girls… not after all his talk of personal freedom and merit. I was relieved though, because he promptly broke the collars that they wore around their necks and told them to run, they were free.
 
We then followed Hasim into very the back of the brothel. I have never felt as uneasy as I did walking through that opulent room. I heard cries as a couple of women were being whipped by a guard. Again, I was so tempted to teleport them safely away and then burn this place to the ground… but I stayed my hand. This is Grimaldus’ world… not mine. The lascivious glances that were being cast at myself, Inira and Secilia brought that fact home all the more… I do not belong here… I pulled my hood low, even in the oppressive heat and smoke, and followed Grimaldus, close enough that I could almost feel his cloak brushing me as we picked our way around the reclining patrons.
 
Hasim led us to a back office, where we met his fence, a man who goes by the name “Haltan the Sly”. He doesn’t seem very sly to me… rather, he seems to me to be more like a snake in the grass - just cowardly laying in wait to see what he can gain at the expense of others. He made an offer or two, but he was mainly talking to Grimaldus and Hasim.
 
I am glad that I haven’t let it be known that I understand the Yongrel tongue… and the fact that Grimaldus hasn’t spoken to me in his native language since we arrived on these shores, tells me that it is probably wise for me to keep this hidden…