Hello everyone, this is Asclepius,with a further instalment of this wonderful story from Elgarion, entitled
Chapter 2 – Return to Bear Tavern
Elgarion shuffled his way down the darkened hall to his chambers above the common room of Bear Tavern, an establishment which twice now has brought him the comfort of a fine ale and friendly folk. The door opened with a squeal, which comforted him to know unannounced guests would likely be heard. Setting his sack of books and scrolls upon the desk, he quickly cast aside his boots and sat with intent upon the desk’s chair, pulling out his journal again with quill and ink.
Balec had just warned him that some of the patrons were not taking kindly to Elgarion’s scrivenings, consisting of their names, their stories and even sketches of their personages. “Bah… how indeed will I remember all that is said? Though, the man does make a point.” He stated to the air in the room. Certainly a proprietor of such an establishment had learned, through the years, what his patrons prefer. Elgarion decided to rethink how he would document the happenings of Bear Tavern, or in the least, try his best not to offend those most secretive. Recollecting the past nights discussions, the venerable sorcerer spent another hour before succumbing to sleep, recounting this evening’s tales and news of lands abroad.
They spoke of the horrors of starvation after The Fall, and the drunkard even spoke as if he was there, during that time. Could these merely have been the imaginations brought on by ale? Many spoke of these stories, however. The dwarf, called Blake by those present, said there was a place, The Bluffs, which harbors deep caverns beneath. Caverns which housed the starving masses after the cataclysm. I suspect, strongly, that if these catacombs are littered with the dead of those lost during the Fall, likely, their most precious belongings were lost within. Diaries accounting of these horrid times are likely to be found. Perhaps even survivors from Kahli hid within the labyrinth. I must find these tunnels, for amongst the remains of the fallen, the fate of Kahli might be revealed.
Again, the drunkard spoke… almost in riddles. A grimoire of ancient origin. If I can speak to this man away from prying ear and watchful eye, perhaps he will reveal more about the nature of this text. I will introduce myself to him next we meet. And perhaps, I can get a few words from him before he loses his wit from drink.
The one called Kazyn Phoenixfyre… he has knowledge of an ancient city which bears a name most familiar. Could it be that Trinsic existed before the Fall? Could I know this city? If he holds texts which detail the origins of such a place, surely there could be mention of Kahli. And only… I can only dream this to be true, but if Kazyn knows the location of Trinsic, and I can learn of Kahli’s relative position from it? At last I might have found a way to Kahli. If I am so lucky. The history of Trinsic must run deep. A tale of Tel’Anor Arator, The Phoenix Egg, seemingly speaks much of its greatness. A city which apparently took its insignia from that same runic symbol. I will certainly pick the brain of this Kazyn, a man seeming most receptive to conversations of times forgotten.
And again, the dwarf spoke. Daedalus. Weeping Seven. Cryptic words for a confused soul, such as I. Next we meet, when words become sparse and uncomfortable silence ensues, be assured, I will ask questions of these. The answers I seek could lie in any tale or news from abroad. I must not discount any possibilities.
The lady. They called her Amber. She overheard the ramblings of my weary lips from a weary mind. I perhaps embarrassed myself with such bold blatherings of my quest for knowledge. But alas, she took a kindness upon me and offered a most valuable and generous gift, an invitation to view her extensive library. I was confounded by surprise and possibly a little flustered from the wine. I most certainly will take up her most gracious offer and somehow repay her in kind. The Book of the High Priestess. It will be the first I ask to see. Clergy, often granted divinations by the gods, chronicle well the histories of each era. I doubt not that this libram might hold valuable knowledge. But from what era? I will soon know. And with Amber’s assistance with translations, my work will go quickly.
Elgarion De’Kahli turned the journal back several pages, stopping for a moment upon each. The sketch of the tavern from this evening, the sketch from the week prior reminded him of other conversations which he had nearly forgotten. Hastily, he jotted them down, his penmanship suffering as his weariness grew. His notes from before, he read them again, aloud to himself. “Nothing… I asked… nothing,” the old man grumbled to himself. All the notes from the week prior, the questions he intended to ask were never broached. Now, the list had lengthened. So… so many questions. No answers. The start of so many tales. Whispers of places unfamiliar. The undead. Piles of books unread. Elgarion sighed deeply, then closed his journal and capped the ink. After wiping the quill clean and dousing the candle, he set his studies aside for the evening and turned to the bed, lying down upon the feather mattress. Again, staring into the darkness of his chamber, he quickly slipped into sleep. The Void had claimed him again, and this dream would not bring answers. It only brought fear.