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Player's Guide Places People History Beliefs


A return to what I do best
I am surprised to have even found this journal amongst my old belongings; much got stored away in places I don't even remember. It brings me indescribable joy to flip through these pages, to take just a moment to reminisce over the adventures we had. Travelling to Sellador, visiting a city that was dead, Arugusund, Curmeah, New Sellador Port, Lochlainn, the castle of Antifex.... It is well past remarkable to see how much I have changed since I left the Temple Of Whispering Air for reasons even I couldn't really comprehend to see the crater of our now-returned Thanandir. And now, wonder of wonders, I live and work here. I am the Queen's most trusted counsellor. I am her good sense. Some say that I am really the one who runs Tel-Tenauril.

In some senses, I do.

And it makes me happy to do so. I have the opportunity to make amends for my past attitudes. I have the opportunity to start healing the rift that exists between the Selladorians and my own people. I would, but for the tiresome meddling of the Council, who still refuse to see what is before their very eyes: that Suzara is Aesia's closest (probably only) living relative; Suzara is our Queen. Of course, Her Highness makes little effort to convince them that she is fit to be Queen. I have no doubt she would be a just and merciful ruler, if I could convince her that she must make those decisions, and that she cannot simply wander off to the nearby woods whenever she feels like it. Truth, she has sometimes been a trial, but history suggests that no good monarch has been particularly tractable.

There are a thousand demands on my time every day. I had quite forgotten what having only voice in my head is like, save for a few moments here and there, but I have enjoyed the past three years. Of a different nature, certainly, however there have been challenges enough for my intellect. As much as I've accomplished, though, there has been something missing.

There has been little use for my blade.

I have kept Lightbringer well maintained, and save for sleep, it does not leave my hip, yet these three years gone it has in truth been more ornament than weapon. I have never once had to defend Her Highness (not that she entirely needs it), nor had to repel an attack or insurrection. I have wondered if my skills have not stagnated, cooped up here in Thanandir.

That reminds me. I must write Noreil in my spare time; I have never had time to be formally confirmed as a bladesinger by the school. Things have been so busy that I've barely had a day to travel to Celembril to visit my family.

It is good to see House Diemyn advancing in the eyes of Celembril society. Mother and Father use the advantage of having a son as the Chancellor and Court Wizard to full effect, which in turn, has helped me in Thanandir somewhat; I have had to rely on them more than once to push through some change to policy that I know I'd never had gotten the approval for from the Council otherwise. I've still seen little of Emlan, though. I hope that Teravus treats her well, and that she's happy. I fear she may be out of work, soon, though. I intend to disband the Garanlyon as quicly as opportunity allows.

And my friends. I surprise myself to write that I have missed them all, even little Arilyn. Dolartu has made himself a presence in the castle often enough, and I have spoken with him, traded messages with Oaensekhtep by him, whenever possible, but even that has been quick and somewhat strained. Now, out here, even in the middle of the unforgiving, desolate, poisonous Kharse, I feel almost more at home than in my study at Thanandir, surrounded by my books and scrolls. In a circle on the floor of this magical shelter with Arilyn, and Dolartu, and Jacques, and even our newest companion, Lothloren. Only Anwar is missing, probably surrounded by children with Horus. Off again to strange places, stopping unspeakable evils, preventing catastrophe and the end of our world. This is where I belong.

This is home.

Associated Regions: Kharse, Tel-Tenauril
From the journal of Islan Diemyn

Contributor: Chris Schuettpelz