~The Journal of Alahel Quevnae~

Entry 1: Of my first few days among the Sanctuarians.

Sanctuary, they call it. A city that upon first arrival seems as dour and forboding as Traensyr, though without any of the rich beauty to inspire dread or awe. Sanctuary, it seems, from the wild teeth and claw of the Underdark that crouches at the outer wall of the city, scratching out small holdings in shadowed building corners and backalley dead ends.

Sanctuary. A wholly hopeless, uninspired but desperate town, and my new home. I do not blame the citizens, not entirely- as with all living things once a small benefit of some sort is extended then it is easier to take just a short moment more to rest, to think, to tarry, and tarry they do. I do.

I don't want to be here.

I was glad enough to see it, after a week of wandering the Underdark with held breath and a numb heart. I was -free-, but like any pampered and spoiled pet I was near useless on my own. I still am, for that matter, but I've been able to fake it enough that some few consider me an asset if they hunt.

**A few smudges stain the parchment here, moisture droplets that mingle with ink**

What would they think of me, if they knew the truth? Chand, Damien, Brother Alarond, any of them? What would they think to know I fight the urge to drop to my knees at their arrival, head bowed and servile, a proper student to a lifetime of servitude? They don't know, no one knows. Jabbre always told me "Mind yourself in alarming situations. You have two ears, two eyes and one mouth so listen and watch twice as much as you speak and fit yourself to your surroundings!"

So I do. I watch the women, human and elf and hin all walking with purpose and defiance in their steely eyes and loud voices. I watch the men posture and strut to show they are stronger, better, off to fight this battle and then clap each other on the back over an ale, undoubtedly trying to find where in their spine is best to plunge that dagger if things go wrong. In that at least, it is not so much different from home, but here I do not have the comfort of a motherly teacher nor the security of a strong and clever Jabbre to lean against.

I watch. I listen. I "fit in". And I am frightened of this Sanctuary, this place to preach "freedom" when it is not -my- choice for freedom, nor my desire to walk independent and alone. I am here by force, though many who don't know my past would call it blessing.

I am here, and alone.

**Jabbre means "Master" in Drow.

~The Journal of Alahel Quevnae~

Entry 2: The cutting remarks few notice.

He is dead. I know it beyond doubt as Traensyr is in such constant upheaval there's no way he couldn't be dead after the attack on the House (unless his accursed sister lived and now has his corpse as her personal lackey. The less I think on that, the better.)

How can I feel so damnably insignificant? A full season ago I was valuable, appreciated, considered worthy enough to teach. Now I'm as useless as lip stain on a dwarf and feeling twice as rediculous.

No. I won't go down that dark path. I've got a few new friends and if they don't know anything about me 'tis because I don't tell them and they choose not to press. 'Tis nothing shameful or neglectful on their parts, Goddess knows!

Jabbre would say "Don't mourn what you don't have, use what you do!" . So what do I have? My life, thanks to Damien. I have Bella despite some people seeing her as little more than ambulating pot roast. My legs to walk, my hands to hold and heal, my mind to think and my heart to feel.

I want Mycopolis to grow. I don't mean in size, I don't mean being overrun with gangs or politicians or anything...but if we, those whose hearts beat with the pulse of life there, if we worked together why couldn't we have a thriving farm community? Not everyone is wanting to go topside again, there is NO shame in that at all. The shame lies in greed, and hatred, and lack of respect.

I may support the Ascension, I may believe in the surface and fully accept it's where many wish to be and -need- to be, but the Underdark is my home. I've lost so much when I fled Traensyr, I can't lose more without breaking.

---

Which reminds me...what the mud is people's fascination with blades? Every day, someone new tells me "You ought to put down that silly sling and learn to hold a sword!" Or a bow and arrows. This is not MY war, this is not MY desire to draw blood unecessarily.

And another thing, when did I become invisible? There are rumors going of a werewolf in the Lower. There are suspicions that it is a certain person who Shall Remain Descriptionless here, but who I suspect truly -is- the beast. Do I want him dead? No, Live and Let Live. As long as he doesn't upset the balance of things then he can do as he likes. In all honesty maybe a few sleepy sheep should be eaten just to wake the others up. But when I can stand there and listen in as he tries to incite others to taking over the sewers and show Sanctuary they're a force to be reckoned with, and he -doesn't bloody give a damn- then I have to wonder. I'm pacifistic, not harmless.

I still think the city is corrupted by powers beyond our ken, and so few seem to even understand me when I suggest it. I may as well be a toddling child for the head pats I get, being told "It's your choice to stay or seek better". I think perhaps it's not so bad in the short term, but to stay too long....

It's bred apathy, greed and selfishness, and little else.

~The Journal of Alahel Quevnae~

3. The importance of Insignificance

So many rumors these days! A Seeker and charismatic member of the Brotherhood dead, the werewolf still at large, a Formian menace at our gates that may or may not involve the drow themselves.

If I knew my Jabbre were still alive, I may have sought the drow out on my own. If I knew the House still stood, all it would take is a flash of my brand and dropping to my knees to speak in hushed tones, and I would be back again.

But He is dead, my Tess is dead, even the broken rothe are dead and the House is fallen. This is the time to begin anew, to replant myself and struggle to thrive as Fire Lichen...

...or perhaps more like Wisp Lichen. It is time to quit mourning that which I have lost, for I am not the only one to have lost precious friends and a wanted life. It is time to make a path for myself, to lay claim to my own niche of the Underdark. There are so many enemies of peace now, and yet so few defenders; perhaps in my anonymity and aura of insignificance lies a strength I have yet to tap. I care for and respect those I call friend, but the wicked pay me no mind and in -this- I shall remain unmolested until they least expect to be faced with defiance and courage.

L'z'ress d'niar ulnen naut wun ssissilluk *

************************ Chand seems to have a sweetheart. I am not sad, not really, in fact I am quite pleased. I predict in time there may be a handfasting. I hold no ill will to his Lady Fair, nor to him, and I wish them both the best in whatever path they head down. I am, however shamefully, a bit jealous though, and I don't know precisely why. I think it may be something to do with the simple comfort of having a good friend to relax around, not always feel the need to keep on guard... ...and perhaps she may keep him safe where I failed to. I suspected that wolf he called "pup", that animal who so obviously does not belong in the Underdark, who should be fully wild and who did not speak to me at all. Wolves have honour unless they are broken in spirit, and this...creature...hurt Chand in a fight with another. Chand was insignificant to the beast, else he'd be dead, but I know the hin's ways and he will chase the beast down and wear its pelt for a cloak.

I have seen the Malar campsite. The man, I have seen his face but I doubt he remembers. He made the sending, he ran from a questioning Watchman, the rumors were he is the werewolf, the wolf, the hunter at the gates. I do not know for sure yet, but I have little proof to the contrary.

So much to think upon, so much to do. There are more who follow Eldath, and several in Mycopolis beyond her teachings as well. We must build Mycopolis to withstand not only the Beast, but the Underdark predators, and it seems to me perhaps in time...even New Dunwarren itself.

---------------------------------

*The strength of water lies not in violence.

~The Journal of Alahel Quevnae~

4. Blessed Be The Light

So much to happen in so short a time. I really cannot focus well enough to write in detail, so I will hit the main points for posterity.

Chand is not dead, though I have not seen him again.

Brother Radiant has let me know that he is soon to undertake a perilous task of faith to redeem himself, and may not return. He is such an odd man at times, and just when I have concluded he is a holy and untouchable devotee of his god, he cracks a joke or does something else to return to mortal status. I pray to Eldath to keep his way safe as possible in his endeavor, and that he returns to us all with whole soul and body and mind.

I imagine I might be under watch by Mycopolis now. I had assisted in finding an item of great interest to many parties, a part of a key. Something just didn't feel right about the gnome's request or eagerness to have this piece of the key, or his desire to have the rest of it either. I was not the only one to feel this way, but it seems I was the only one to have voiced any concerns. Granted these concerns were to people outside of Mycopolis...but no matter to me. If they choose to distrust me then so be it. Something is telling me that we are soon headed to a civil war between Upper, Lower and Mycopolis itself, and if it doesn't involve this key and whatever it unlocks I'll be surprised.

I was asked to assist in the rescue of a celestial of Lathander last eve. Hah, I say "asked" as if I am strong enough to make a difference...it was by right of the Ascension cloak upon my back and nothing else, but I suppose it worked out in the end. The Celestial told each of us that we could ask a boon of him, and if he could grant it he would.

I told him "What I most desire cannot be summoned by anyone, not even a god's own." When pressed I asked for safe passage back to Sanctuary for everyone there. He called my selflessness "Admirable".

It surely was not. I understand when Brother Radiant says his reasons for returning to the Surface are selfish, or that his reasons for doing what he does are selfish. I am selfish too, for all my desire to try and help others.

*The writing ends abruptly, as if the writer simply cannot face her thoughts any longer*

Written in the usual delicate, flowing script, but with a sense of distraction as if the author is not fully paying attention to her actions.

The healing comes from within. Many small springs release trickles through the cracks of the stone, these trickles become streams, the streams become rivers, the rivers flow inevitably to the seas. If not for the small quiet beginnings, the great and powerful eventualities would cease to be.

The sea seeps into the Deep places, crashes into distant shores, changing the world before seeping through the stone and soil to feed the spring again.

And so it goes.

Praises be to She of the Singing Waters. Blessed be they who find the stillness within. Satisfied are we who learn from the challenges set before us and return all the stronger for it.