These are the words dedicated to a time of contemplation in the wake of bloodshed. Penance dedicated to every lost breath and choice made, but sacrificed to ease the suffering of others. The Way has influenced all, mortals and gods alike, each given power to alleviate one’s suffering over the other. But even the Way defies itself, so that compassion may not always be compassionate and I, Yu Seong-Won, must walk in a journey bereft of home, land, and heaven.
There is nothing clean, little justice exists in my time under the Red Wizards and ultimately in the ruinous cultures of Faerun. I could still imagine a business transaction being clean and safe, but walking outside the influence of the Red Wizards has presented a reality where double-dealings and assassinations were far sloppier than the expected course. But this is still within the Way.
As the path continues to unfold, we meet with comrades: Kethra and Eldon, by the large statue in the heart of Balduranian open area, the Wide. They introduce us to a new member of our company, a Paladin of Tyr named Sir Darian Burrwood. A holy warrior, these paladins, are often met with skepticism by those with power and are often champions of justice. But the values of justice can be skewed and I only know that Sir Darian’s inclusion could only add to a stronger path for the Company.
Fortunately, Sir Darian and our minstrel, Zolis, have been effective in his social dealings. His skills with the half-elves we recovered from the League of Six Fingers has been promising, but this falls in line with his sense of compassion. A bright light can guide the lost, but blind the awoken. We discerned from these half-elves had a weak elven education and were deprived further of knowing their part in the world. This loss of insight is troubling, but I must stay watchful as to not incur shadowed fault.
It occurs to me now in writing that these half-elves were taken by sea vessel. I would ask my comrades aboard the Emerald Kraken towards connections to slave ships, to sacrifice the stability of a trade to mar Loviatar yet honor the Furies. To be the whip-bearer upon the slavers does seem enticing.
Meeting with Skoond was troublesome. We were assaulted by various assassins, whom the Minstrel later discovered intended to capture us and not kill us. That note explained the paralyzing poison which coated their weapons. With the commotion that erupted, I wondered if Skoond was captured or killed. The revelation that he was still intact and unaware of what transpired drew my suspicion and curiosity. I watched and allowed us to play the Calishite’s game, as though we were fresh on the scene, one which some of us knew well.
Further spending time with Skoond only attracted more of the dark garbed men, the cultists with six fingers. All perched at varying elevations around the well we thought to show Skoond, the well which ironically was the Six-Fingers’ hideout for their slave shipments. There was no time to scale the varying buildings to intercept any of them. We fled.
Although it would be honorable to note the cultist lieutenant who felt powerful enough to challenge us, the defeat of this lone figure is enough to satiate this log. What now? What more? We took Skoon and the lone cultist to a safehouse. It was somehow, some way, that in the climax of the situation, something within me stirred.
Before anything else, I meditated.