Coin Toss ~ Haco

[HouseOfLament]

A curious journal



Written in Gnomish

[HouseOfLament]

March 1369 DR (776 BC)

I saw a murder. 

I heard a horrible scream and saw a gush of blood.  The victim fell lifeless and a beast of a man stepped into view.  His armor was magnificent and his sword might have weighed more than I do.  I had been looking for herbs and the farm northwest of Vallaki just came into view.  The suddenness and senselessness of the death was shocking and the longer I spend in this place, the more I fear my own death will be as such.  I ran back to Vallaki for my life.

It was just as shocking to see the murderer again on the outskirts.  He ducked into Lathander's temple and I found him sitting there, waiting.  Despite the risk, curiosity drew me to the murderer.  He would not speak to me but the why of it still gnaws at me.

Why would Master Scribblewinks show me this?  Does he know what I did?  Am I supposed to apologize, is that the trick to ending this illusionary world of his?  Everything here is so macabre, it is so unlike him.  Is the imagery of this world my own, then?  Soliphism?  My robes are getting dirty and I am afraid.

[HouseOfLament]

The days blend together.  I ache, I'm weary and I'm too old for this.  Lodgings when I can find them in Vallaki are inadequate.  The things I would do to have just one room of my estate to myself in this terrible illusory world.

There are victories.  Safely filling a box with herbs and later having enough wolf fangs (the oddly named local coinage) to survive quite a while.  Learning how to skin an animal.  I previously thought this beneath me but I was desperate for coins.  There is something thrilling about doing things I'd never had considered a year prior to survive.  Something satisfying.  But why does this remind me of the orphanage?

There are setbacks.  I am apparently a terrible illusionist.  My color sprays are hardly working on simple animals.  I must practice more.  Perhaps a renewed interest in the Art is what will cause Master Scribblewinks to end this.  I must master invisibility regardless.

There is much death.  Bodies have spilled up out of sewers.  Adventurers are routinely ended and there seem to be no real heroes.  I spoke to the murderer and learned he is a cannibal.  I have heard rumors of more cannibals among the Outlanders.  I understand why the Barovians don't trust us.  I don't trust us.

[HouseOfLament]

June 1396 DR (776 BC)

I have learned enough about this place to convince a trio of Barovians that I am from the Core.  Rather than admitting to them that I carried the blood of a fiend I claimed to have been cursed.  They were cautious as anyone should be around one such as me yet interested to know more about the curse.  In Darkon's city of Karg I was once a merchant and I appraised an heirloom precious to a witch as worthless, and so her wrath was placed upon me.  Knowledge is so valuable.  I wonder how long I can keep up this ruse.  There are people of Toril who can not walk the places I do because I am better than them.  It gives me some solace. 

Enough time has passed that my trade operation is surely beyond repair now.  I shall have to find solace in more things.  Begin anew.  Become respected.  Powerful.  But it shall take time.  If this is indeed an illusion I shall not learn from Master Scribblewinks but instead become the instructor.  Let us see what he can learn from me.