Campaign of the Month: August 2010

The Melekar Chronicles

Ember's journal entry, after the ruins

Ember s log

Kythorn 13th, 154 AE

I’m learning better control, now, but I think I’m starting to agree that there are times where it is simply best to let Ember do the fighting. For all my effort, I fell unconscious twice in as many hours while seeking out some stolen spices from the local merchant’s guild.

It was a dangerous mission, but the promise of information leading to the whereabouts of Solaren’s father was too good to pass up, so we headed off to a valley in the southwest. On the way, we were waylaid by bandits who valued their purses more than their own lives.

Why are some people so foolish?

And who does that Cinnamon girl think she is? Couldn’t she see that they were clearly looking to die defending their ill-gotten gains? Some people don’t deserve a second chance.

We made it to the ruins where the thieves who had stolen the trade goods were believed to have holed up in, and it was a disaster. My magic failed left and right as I screwed up the basic gestures, and my prized Fahrenheit struck more air than flesh. It’s no wonder I nearly died twice, today…

If it weren’t for Alecar, I would have. Maybe I SHOULD have…

I need to calm down. “You are too impatient,” Byron would say. “Running head first does you no good if you keep banging yourself against a wall.” If only he could have seen me in those ruins, he’d have had a thing or two to say about keeping my calm.

It was good that we went there, though. For all my frustrations, the place was evil, and we did the area a good deed by cleansing it of the hordes who had taken up living in its environs. I also met a kind creature from another world that was stuck guarding summoning circles long abandoned. I felt bad for it, and promised that if I ever happened upon its master, I would speak of its exemplary service and try to get it returned home. It called itself Maug, and though I’m not sure HOW I know this, I know its home is a place called “Acheron.”

I found some strange mirrors that looked life reflective surfaces of remote areas; unsure of what else to do, I smashed them. For all the unsettling eeriness of the ruins, I figured it would be safer to destroy them.

Cinnamon questioned some of Solaren’s unusual rituals while we were down there. I don’t know why she seems to think she can demand anything from a nearly seven foot tall cat-man, but she better be careful how far she pushes him.

Still, we couldn’t have done it without her. Working for the guild like she does is no better than working for coin like Solaren, but she certainly earned her keep.

But that makes me wonder what exactly I am fighting for. So far, everything I’ve done has been for the church, but while I am grateful for their aid, I cannot truly expect to live a life of service to them, can I?

Money is of no real interest to me. Byron has already taught me how to live happily despite not remembering 90% of my life…

...but there were those surgical tools in the ruins, the ones that dripped blood. There was something familiar about them; a sensation that I…



...oh god. I’ve been tested on. I remember knives, hammers, bloods and screams! I remember scholars, experiments, and torture! But…nothing else. Why? Who? Where? When?

There’s so much about myself that I don’t understand…

...maybe that can be why I fight. To discover who I am. Not who Byron found, but who I really am. And to do that, I have to uncover more of my past. I have to get my memory back, no matter what.

And when I do, someone’s going to burn for what they did to me.



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