Boirin uses his newly acquired chalk & parchment to write out a message to Roden…
We missed you yesterday, wherever you are. Before becoming aware of your note, I hastily ran down to ask the innkeeper’s wife if she had seen you, though I forgot I was still in my skivvies, much to my embarrassment.
We’re all concerned for your well-being, but confident in your ability to stay one step ahead of trouble. We eagerly await your return to hear first-hand what troubles forced your separation from our group.
In the meantime, we’ve decided to put off our rescue of Gundren until our party is whole once more. There are plenty of injustices right here in Phandalin to draw our attention in the meantime. In fact, your own warning against “scarlet cloaks” and “staves of glass” has already proven to be helpful, as we found ourselves set upon by just such a group of vagabonds, and upon looking into it further, have found them to be led by one named Glassstaff. We’ve made it our goal to rid this fine town of their foul presence.
We’ve also met another adventurer who has, at least temporarily, joined us on our path. She goes by Andrina, and is not of any race I’m familiar with. She’s already proven herself quite resourceful, however, as she was able to somehow walk right into the Redbrands’ drinking hole and extract the name and location of their leader without drawing their ire. An interesting one, she is.
I pray this message finds you well, and that the light of Marthammor guides your unusually large feet upon their way.
Finished with his writing, Boirin begins looking around the town square for a pigeon.
Messrs. Indigo, Hightower, & Stout:
Knowledge of my return has spread more quickly than might have been hoped. Do not worry over my sudden departure, for I am well-acquainted with the shadows of Phandalin, and they are safer for the moment than the daylight. I must ask that you do not come looking for me — I do not wish to be found in any case, and we all know that my shadowcraft is beyond any of you, so the endeavor would prove fruitless. Beware: any commotion over my absence will further endanger my life and attract unwanted attention to yourselves. Fear not: I will find you ere long. In the meantime, do not mention my name openly, but refer to me as the undersigned in mixed company.
Yours in adventure,
P.S. Beware glass staves and scarlet cloaks.
This missive is addressed to Daardendrian, R. If it has come into your possession by some error and his name is unfamiliar to you, you are commanded by the authority of the Order of the Founders to destroy this packet by fire and, if possible, slay the erring bird who miscarried its delivery. Our gratitude for your discretion.
The Citadel Archive is pleased to fulfill your request for the official dossier of Agent Iarno Albrek. (See attached.) May knowledge within illumine ignorance without.
Name. Iarno Albrek
Description. Short, dark-bearded human male
Class. Wizard, School of Enchantment, 4th Level
Known Alias(es). Unknown
Known Familiar(s). Rat
Signature Spells. Light, mage hand, shocking grasp (cantrips). Charm person, magic missile, hold person, misty step (spells).
Last Known Location. Stationed in Phandalin
Mission. Establish order in Phandalin by setting up a constabulary. Regular reports, esp. anything unusual.
Status. Last contact Sildar Hallwinter, Mitrul 1492 (three months past). Current whereabouts and status unknown. Agents dispatched to investigate.
I hear a cry of triumph; some victory has been won. There, now — I can see a hero raise his spear into the air. His pose suddenly becomes rigid, fixed in the height of his celebration. He is unmoving, but I can float to and fro, in my vision, around his frozen form. Now this hero of flesh and bone, spear raised and shield at his side, is suddenly made of wood, and he has fallen to the ground at my feet, his expression of certain victory unchanged.
A man… I see a strange man… He is in a cottage… He is winged and horned, but he is no devil, I am certain of it… His face is black, as are his many horns, and like the appearance of a dragon. His wings are wrapped about him like a cloak… I can see that he is speaking, but not who he is addressing. His words are unintelligible, but I perceive that they are full of anger. Now, he reaches for something, I can’t see what it — the vision blurs… It is fades like a dream.
Rana sits down in the middle of the floor of his empty room at the Stonehill inn, after sending Gnerx the intrusive downstairs to nurse a flagon of ale for the rest of the day in order to be alone. He recounted the days events and wondered, as he had every day for the past 250 years, what he had done as a child to receive the ire of the gods to punish him so. He was a devout follower of corellon, and followed his ways, but there was always the tugging in his mind to just shut his emotions and humanity away. He cursed the god for giving him this innate ability to cause harm, and the instinctual desire to do so.
Rana moved suddenly into his prayers to Corellon, the Elvish god of life, and thanked him for giving him one more day of strength to fight the urge to give into his desire to fall into chaos, and act on his insatiable bloodlust. The then asked that he be blessed to keep his one small shred of humanity and remorse he had left. After his prayers, he closed his eyes, and entered the trance he called sleep, he meditated on what he had meditated on everyday for over 250 years…
What is my true name?