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[Written with a delicate hand is a well-sealed letter. The envelope is dyed a light green and has a drawing of scales on the front. In the scales are that of a skull, and that of a hyssop flower. Perfectly balanced. It looks decently drawn with some modicum of skill. It is sent with one of the Speakers who visit upon the mound.]

[Noxieos Adalsteinn's Talent to Perform is Above Average.]

Greetings, ibn Almunthah, Elder of the Sepulchre,

It is firstly an honor to write to you even in hopes that my letter may find its way to you, and the Elders. I am writing to you to introduce myself and create a connection between myself and the Church of the Twindari. My name is Noxieos Adalsteinn. I am a Speaker of the Twindari.

I hail from the small and cold city of Frostport, after living most of my life as an orphan from there I began to wander the world under the blessings of the Martyrs. My past is unfortunately, one of sadness. My parents were killed by those who defile the dead, and my dearest love was taken by 'The dead that walk'. Such, I have taken up the role of Witness within the Twindari.

In my wanderings, I have been led now to Ephia's Well, from my treks out far West, just at the edges of the Edutu. It was here that the voices of the restless dead called out to me, beckoning me to the Well. It is here that I must reside for a long time to do my work, recording those who have passed, aiding those through grief, understanding the law, and witnessing the beauty of life, and sadness of death. I am a singer, a lamenter, and a mourner of the lost. I have found that by singing songs of mourning, the dead find rest and repose. It is my goal to become more connected to the Martyrs and walk a path in service to the Twins.

I write to you of the four Elders, because I heard that you had listened to the voice and sat with Kalim upon the banks of the Edutu, conversing. I believed it would be you who might understand my pain the most. Thus, I sought your infinite wisdom.

At the kind guidance of my current mentor, my tutor, and my guide, Preparator Tariq Salah. He has bid me to write a letter and create this connection between the Church of the Twindari, in hopes of being bestowed the official title of Witness Noxieos Adalsteinn. And, perhaps in time, I will be granted permission to visit the Adliye within Baz'eel and learn from the tomes and history there.

In such, I would ask of you a question. As a Witness, and Twindari, I have begun to record those who have lived and who have passed in a Book of the Dead. To remember and sanctify them. I ask of you this; should an assassin, one who has murdered a Priest of the Wheel. Should they be remembered in this most holy tome of the lost as well?

Thank you, for taking the time to read over this letter. I shall patiently await your words of wisdom. I walk through the reeds as the scales righten. May fruit bear your works.

-Noxieos Adalsteinn, of the Twindari.

Nisah 23rd, IY 7789

More death, more mourning.

A spirit came to me last night, whispering of regrets, wants, and desires they could not complete before their life had ebbed away. It struck me hard, and I mourned for them. Singing songs of comfort, trying to appease their wants. They were simple things such as feeling loved, singing to, and running their hands across the waters. Simple, yet profoundly beautiful.

I helped them cross to the other side, learning of things only the dead could know.

~~~

A trial, one for the vigilantes of the Well who struck out at an Assassin. The man who killed the Priest of Agaslakku, Grenth Flamebringer. Afterwards, I felt odd. It seemed that the laws were...used to further the agenda of the legates. Is that right? Is that wrong? Gamil will have to guide me. Though, one other question did arise that I must ask my mentor about.

Is an assassin of a priest worthy of being remembered in the Book of the Dead?

~~~

I was able to Witness some board work with some of the veterans of the Well. I seem to enjoy when jobs are relaxed, it allows conversations and the opportunity for me to get to know people of the Well. I learned a bit about them, who they were, things that mattered to them. It was nice. Nice to witness life. Though, my feelings were hurt.

I was told that my singing, my lamenting, my prayers of song are...off putting. That they discomfort the living. I'm not sure how to feel about that. Appreciative for the honesty? What do I do, simply cease the song because the living don't like it? What about the dead? Those lost, beyond the curtain who are lost and need guidance to the banks? They deserve to hear it, and to find it, granting them rest.

Maybe, I could sing a slightly happier tune. One day. That day isn't for a while. It seems sadness is all around the Well.

~~~

I went to the War. Witnessed it. So much death, pain, and hurting. It was as though I were a silent reaper. Flowing past corpses scattered all around, witnessing their deaths, singing the lullabies for them as their souls faded off to the other bank. My other hand, the one blessed my Gamil tended the wounds of the living, whilst the hand of Kalim closed the eyes of the Orcs who passed.

[You guessed it, more tears stain the page.]

I stood next to my companion, the man who had begun to mean much to me. Gor. A tall Stonefolk man, he was injured rushing forth in the final chambers. I was able to staunch the bleeding, but he will likely be feeling that wound for a time. He was mere steps away from the banks of the Edutu, pulled into Kalim's domain. And so few return from those shores.

Is it wrong to mourn their deaths too? I hope not, for I will. Again these halls will echo with my pain. I'll pray for them. They find the place they are destined for at the end of the Edutu.

Fruit, bear my works.

Happy Birthday and appreciation day! Looking forward to seeing your works and all you do for the server! <3

Manta Wholt

'The ever-resourceful chef and fearless protector, nourished both body and spirit.'

Name: Manta Wholt 

Age at Passing: Around 44

Race: Human

Cause of Death: Vae Mojem, defending the world against a Djinn, those who walked with him, and aiding in slaying it before he fell to it.
 
Biography: Manta was a Chef, feeding the Well was one of his passions. A clerk at the emporium run by a Zina. Not only was he a great chef, but he was also an incredible fisherman, a skilled merchant, and adventurer. He would leap to save those who needed saving, who needed protecting, for that is the man Manta Wholt was.
 
Final Words or Wishes: "The best ingredients are found in the most dangerous places."
 
Resting Place: The Maq'bara of Ephia's Well.
 
Legacy: A restaurant in Palm Heights, the Casa Manta. Those he taught his recipes to, his Sous Chef, Ritz Orton, who carries some of his works. Maker of first class whiskey. 

Nisah 22nd, IY 7789

Another day was completed. I am thankful for the bed within the Maq'bara. Though to some it may be odd to sleep so close to the dead, I find it comforting. I am able to hum and sing to them whenever I wish. The stone walls of the chambers here provide excellent acoustics. I can bring comfort to the other side as they make their way towards the banks of the Edutu.

I nearly found my way there this morning. Joining a group of adventurers on their works to the Vaults. I believe it was with a man named Jan, a woman named Melody, and an Acolyte by the name of Narwen. I find it oddly fitting that I merely met my end at the hands of the undead. Struck with countless arrows in a hallway by skeletal archers, then stomped upon by some strange amalgamation of war.

There was a strange reverence in them though. They weren't entirely like all other undead, they seemed to have purpose and retain it even without a master around. It was like they had some duty, and I wonder if the grounds we walked upon were sacred. A part of me hopes it wasn't, for then I would have broken a tenet of the Twindari.

Tonight, I will pray hard before bed. Sing louder so the Twins can hear me and feel my remorse.

~~~

It brought joy to my heart to see Gor again. His talents with his weapon is unmatched, and I've never seen someone cleave through enemies as fast as he does. I feel safe with him, like the two of us can take on any foe. I stand in his shadow and wield the hand of Gamil. Tending his wounds, and should they get too close, my other hand, that of Kalim will bring them closer to their demise.

After our works were completed, and we brought rest to some of the 'dead that walk'. We joined up with some new allies, Dandrik and Anilia. It was nice to work with more people, yet I found myself gravitating towards Gor at all times. He is quite a man.

~~~

[Teardrops stain the page here.]

I began my sacred task, the recording of those who have passed. The most recent loss was a well-known Priest of the Warrior, a Dwarven man by the name of Grenth Flamebringer. The Book of the Dead begins, a task that I am bound to do, but one that still fills me with sadness. At least those within it will be remembered. Loved. Cherished.

I will mourn for the harpies, I will mourn for the brigands, I will mourn for the dwarves, but most of all I will mourn for the Warrior. He who lost a faithful servant. Tonight, my song will echo in these halls for them. For the lost.

Fruit, bear my works.

Grenth Flamebringer

'May his name endure as a light to guide the living and the dead alike with his flames.'

Age at Passing: 66

Race: Dwarf

Cause of Death: Murdered before their time.

Biography: A Dwarven Priest of Agaslakku, the Warrior. They carried with them the warmth and compassion of their god, bringing it to those they met. He was the light in many lives. A bright flame in a dark world. A man who held the favor of the Warrior himself. The heart of the Duunthall. Remember him as strong in conviction, bravery, courage, and care. A talented healer and man of faith.

Final Words or Wishes: ---

Resting Place: Resides with the Duunthall.

Legacy: The flame that resides in all of us can be stoked to do great things if only we have faith in ourselves.

[The Book of the Dead]

The Book of the Dead

Within the hallowed pages of this tome lies the remembrance of those who have crossed the veil, their names inscribed so they might never be forgotten. To mourn is to honor; to remember is to sanctify. Let this be a testament to their deeds and a record for the living, as guided by the wisdom of the Martyrs, Kalim and Gamil. May their judgments be just, and their repose eternal.

---

"Kalim and Gamil, bearers of the burden of Death and Law, grant me clarity as I pen these words. Through your wisdom, I honor the fallen; through your sacrifice, I uphold the memory of the lost. Let this book be a light in the darkness, a shield for the forgotten, and a balm for the grieving."

To my fellow Twindari, the keepers of life and death, and those who knew the departed, I extend a hand and a plea: find me, Noxieos Adalsteinn, and contribute the names of those who have touched your life, who have left their mark upon this world. Let us remember them here, together, so they may be carried forward through time.

---

---

Of those who have passed, I will be following a template going forward to record them. It is as follows:

Name: (Their full name, or the name they were most known by.)
Age at Passing: (How many years they lived before crossing the veil.)
Race: (Their heritage or lineage.)
Cause of Death: (Optional. A brief note of how they passed, if known.)
Biography: (Their life story, deeds, or defining traits. What will they be remembered for?)
Final Words or Wishes: (If they left any parting words, wishes, or wisdom to the living.)
Resting Place: (Where they were laid to rest, or if their body is lost, where they are spiritually honored.)
Legacy: (What they left behind—a family, a tradition, a lesson, or something they built or sacrificed for.)

Nisah 21st, IY 7789

I arrived in the Well yesterday from beyond the Wastes. The verdance of the Edutu is like a distant memory now. I can barely feel its foliage upon my skin, yet I still carry with me the song in my heart. The Twins brought me here, ushered forward by the sounds of weeping souls. It is my sacred duty to guide those through this mourning.

Yet I too am carried away in this storm. I can feel the absence of warmth here. I mourn, I sing my dirge for those to hear. A prayer upon the wind to be carried forth across the banks. We will heal this pain. The Scales will righten again.

[A few teardrops stain the page.]

~~~

On this day, the holiest of days, it was the Calibration. I was able to meet a brother in faith, Tariq Salah. He and I are going to be working together these coming days. He will be my mentor, my teacher, my guide, and my friend whilst I find my foothold in the Well.

It was an honor to call forth the holy pyres of the Calibration. To sweep the steps of the Pyramid. To burn away the old to make way for the new. A part of me always believed that in sacred places to the Twins, there should be two speakers to represent the Twins. We will be that. Though, I confess, we are much the same in our forms of worship. Leaning towards Kalim, he who holds the scales of death. We will make it work.

~~~

Already I have met some wonderful people in the Well. Ritz, a woman holding on to grief, pain, suffering. She states that she has lost a light, a warmth. Of what exactly, I know not.

I've overheard people distraught and upset at the loss of an individual. It pains me, and I mourn the loss of life. May they find rest as their soul is ferried down the Edutu. Perhaps they will be the first work in my book.

I was able to work alongside a Stonefolk. His name is Gor. I felt transfixed by his energy, bringing peace to the world through war, fighting, and violence. An interesting notion, but he led me to a place where I could perform my work. I have no idea what it is about him, but I wish to see more of him.

Necromancy most foul-filled the air, when we entered the ghouls created by these works surged forth. I was able to sing and let loose my prayers of light and life. Gamil would have been proud of me. My laments were a requiem to the dead, and they drifted off to eternal sleep, as they should be. I thanked Gor for the honor of letting me bring them to rest. I will be watching this man, and soon he will become my dear friend. He always held out his arm to protect me from the ghouls' claws. I will remember him, and look for him in the coming days.

For now, though, I should rest. On this day of Calibrations, I will try to leave my past behind me, I move forward and make my way on. The spirits of the past cry out to me, whisper, speak, and scream for my attention. I will lull them with a song. Though, I will need to find the paper to begin my 'Book of the Dead.' Death seems a common thing in this place. Thus, my work shall soon begin recording the souls that pass.

Fruit, bear my works.

Rest well He of the Warrior's gentle flames.

---

I'm not really sure where to begin with something like this, so I apologize if my thoughts are scattered. First, I suppose I would like to start off by saying 'Hello'. This was my first ever PC with EFU and it has been an honor and privilege to play him alongside the incredible community and the amazing DMs. There were laughs, real tears, heartbreak, pain, joy, triumph, suffering, defeat, and victory!

I've always preferred playing support characters, in many other video games I would play that role, and so I was overjoyed to learn what a Priest was and what they did, of course, Grenth began as a Chaplain. Mainly because I couldn't figure out how to do the actual Priest mechanics at first, but then figured them out after.

Hide

Here is me running around as a Chaplain, some of the early days of Mr.Flamebringer.

[close]

Some of my first conflicts came apparent very quickly. As someone with little lore and knowledge of the World, I chose to be an Awoken. I wasn't aware that most Dwarfs didn't like the Warrior for...reasons. I'll let you find out IG of course, but it arose some difficulties.

My first challenge was the threat of exile from all the Dwarves on the server at the time from a Dwarven Cleric of Warad.

Hide

The Battle of Words upon the Bellows.







I was in, and already facing my first dillema, what do I do? Do I stop worshipping the Warrior, or solidify my faith and persevere knowing that I might miss out on all of the Dwarven community. I was scared, but I did what I thought an Agasian would do. I clapped back.

[close]

I made sure not to throw anyone under the bus, though I was kind of calling out Stigandr for being a butthead, I thought kindness would persevere here, taking the 'higher' road as it were. In doing so it earned me the respect of a certain Dwarf. Durgin Doomed-Oath himself. I was offered the chance to join their party of Dwarves because I truly wanted to help. Support player, remember?

From there, my journey continued...

I joined the Duunthall, helped them with everything I had. Found the Agasians and did my best to rally and become a guide for them. Endured the suffering of trials called by the Fourth, withstood Treason charges, rallied behind Durgin and attempted to make his exile as bearable as possible, had many soft moments with players, trying to inspire and heal them with words. Found my way to the Rose. Then back to the Path of the Warrior. Persisted through weeks of no magical blessings, found them again. Slayed a Djinn. And what feels like so much more!

Hide

I became a voiced citizen thanks to the kindness of the Sisters!



I got to go to my first Synod! Get a taste of the community of Faith.



I had some moments of silliness, fighting elementals with my 'Rival' Dandrik, who was never really my Rival. Grenth just said that so that he could be friends with Dandrik.



The first time I wept, was when a person I began to care for died. It felt...real. They were gone, that was it. Finality. They would not return. I would never speak to 'that' one again. Gone. It hit me hard.

[close]

I had met 259 PC's over the course of my entire journey four month journey. Each one written in my notes, their race, their gender, and what class I thought they were. Looking back on the names fills me with nostalgia, surprisingly, the first person I ever met was Rhuk Nor. If you can believe that.

Grenth was created upon September 12th, 2024, and he perished on January 19th, 2025.

I did my best to leave monuments, memorials, and things for people to read around the world. I wanted to leave a lasting impression upon the sands, and I hope I was able to do that. Maybe you'll find an item, smile as you see who placed it. Maybe others will come in time, and wonder who this person was. Who was Grenth Flamebringer? Where are they now? What has happened to them?

Hide

I stabbed a god, the Warrior, and called him an Idiot.





Sorry, Papaslakku. I'm glad we made up though before the end.


The Flamebringer struggles with his visage being revealed. A symbol of War should have no face.

[close]

I'll try to answer a few questions that people had for me regarding Grenth.

Why does he not take his helmet off? - He wears the helmet all the time because he doesn't want people to know his face, that much is obvious. In addition to that though, he wants to be seen as more of a symbol of war, like an easily recognized motif or image. Something that someone could look at, and not just see his face, but an idea, a belief. Something like that. That's why he refrained from ever taking it off. When he lost it for a time, he was shocked.

Hide

I had the honor of joining some lovely people in taking down a Djinn atop the Tower of Vae Mojem.


It was such a joy to experience a player faction. The Duunthall. I'll cherish all my memories and all the moments I spent with the members within. Thank you for giving me guidance, teaching me, mentoring me, and willing to work with me.

[close]

Why did his legs shake, twitch, what was that about? - Grenth is Awoken, and before he fell asleep five thousand years ago he was in a fire that killed his parents. It was the Warrior who found him here, cradled in flames and spared his life. However, the damage was already done upon the entire lower half of his body, causing his Dexterity to be an 8. Thus, he limped around, had troubles climbing, and was often hiding his pain.

Hide

I will attach some bonus screenshots:


Just started to get to know Balstan, before he was taken out.


When he lost his divine connection, but still warred. Imagine a Dexterity 8 Dwarf shooting arrows, it was rough. But we pushed through despite it!


Taking down Augustus Zan, the Smith of Got Valdhazr's Destruction and taking his helmet as a trophy of war was a memorable experience. I'm glad this screenshot was donated to me.


Got my name written upon the God-Pillar, given a Auld Formorian Coin from the Marishyen, and spoke with them. I think they liked me. At least I hope they did.




Our mission to try to save the Got Valdhazr Dwarves that caused a huge amount of issues, Treason for all those in attendance. Exiledom for Durgin. Sacrifices. Worry of causing harm to others as a healer.


Talking to God. At least one of them. That was special...



The overwhelming support of people who decided to stand with me. Just a little Dwarven man. It truly touched me how many of you were willing to risk death to help.


The last picture I took of him.

[close]

---

Now, I must bid farewell to what has been a big part of me over these four months. My little bringer of flame. It hurts, a lot, but a story is a story. Sometimes you don't get to choose when it ends. Perhaps that is what makes them such good stories. However painful it is. I am not leaving, I am not gone, I am hurt, and will be for some time.

But, I am a healer, I play healers, and I like to help people. I will return, I will tell more stories with you all after these flames fade away. I will heal again.



Rest now, my sweet Dwarf. May you find the warmth you always sought in the Warrior's warm embrace. While you may be gone, I remain. May your flames live on in the hearts of those you helped, you healed, you inspired. May they remember you as you were, warm, smiling, and caring.

To those who have made it this far, I thank you. Know that I will likely return as another healer, so while one door closes, another opens and I'll find my way to you to tend your wounds again. That I promise.

Besides, what would you do without your prescribed Crimson Medicine?

See you soon.

---

It would bring me great joy to hear your thoughts, your memories, your stories of my Dwarf. If you have screenshots to share, it would truly bring me great happiness to see them.

Again, a huge thank you to all of you, every person who I spoke with brought such beauty and joy to interact with you. There are simply so many of you, just know that I appreciated every moment.

Big thanks to the DM's. Bearic, you know. Halfbrood for guiding me. YMD For The End, and knowledge of the game, Dillusionist for the little Christmas gifts, Lialh4 for the summons, Dan for the trauma <3, Roxy for the events, and any others who helped me along the way.

I can't wait to see what stories we will create together.

Nisah 20th, IY 7789

I finally was able to find some sleep, though I might have slept in a bit too much. I feel great, warm, but not hot. My legs no longer hurt, they shake just as much as they usually do, and I can feel the Warrior's hands upon my shoulders. I did, however, have one of the most beautiful dreams I have ever had in my time amidst the Sands.

The meadow stretched endlessly, a sea of crimson flowers glowing faintly, their warmth palpable beneath my fingers. The air was rich with the scent of earth and the faint aroma of smoldering iron, while a stream murmured. It helped weave life into the dream.

At the center stood a figure, tall and still, clad in gleaming Agasian armor adorned with flame and bronze. Just like how I draw him, but probably much better. His cape billowed behind him, aflame with golden fire that didn't burn but radiated warmth. The flowers closest to him deepened into molten scarlet, leaning toward his light.

As I approached, his presence was undeniable. Somehow commanding yet reassuring, like a protective hand on my shoulder. His face was obscured by the fire's glow, but I felt his gaze, seeing through me without judgment. The air hummed with his power, I swear I could feel it on my skin. His flames.

He raised a hand, and the flames of his cape flared outward, spreading warmth across the field. It coursed through me, life-affirming and whole, as though he were reminding me of my place in the endless cycle of creation. Bel-Ishûn. Paradise.

The meadow wasn't just a dream, I think it was a vision. No, it was a promise. And in that moment, I felt his voice, not in words, but in the sense of purpose and belonging that lingered in the golden and warm light. I just can't remember the words right now.

It gives me hope, it gives me purpose. I will do the world proud, I'll bring my light to everyone I meet. I'll share the warmth with them all.

Are you watching me, Agaslakku? I'm going to make you proud.

---

[The page is splattered in crimson blood. The rest of the pages of the book are cindered and burnt to blackness. No more writing would etch these soft vellum pages. No more words of a Priest of Flame, a candle in the dark, a light extinguished. No more inspirational quotes, dreams, hopes, drawings, smiles, hugs, and wishes. No more. Only silence awaits the rest of the book. Inky black and cold. The flame will no longer preserve him, only memory will now.]

Nisah 19th, IY 7789

I am reforged. Whole. Connected to Agaslakku's warmth.

I sit under the night sky, near the graves that I have placed for the Agasians. As the night winds down, I can write my thoughts again.

I can feel the gentle flame dancing and burning again in my heart. My legs don't burn as badly, and the shaking has slowed. One thing is for sure, His flames inside of me have grown back stronger than they have ever been before.

---

I called forth for aid, for those who would stand beside me, and many rallied. More so than I would have thought possible came to me, to help me reclaim my spark. They heeded my words as I knelt before this unknown thing. The test of Agaslakku. The chalice of elemental warm flames in front of me. I mended the broken wounds between us with the most ancient of waters. Doing so...caused the towering six-armed shadow to disappear, or explode is perhaps a better description.

My plan worked, demand, heal, war.

In its place was me. Or rather, What I could be should I walk forward, forwards into the flame. So I did, I walked...and many followed again, to what could have been certain death. That is why, before we embarked upon our journey I asked those who would walk with me one question:

"Will you place your faith in me?"

And they did. It was beautiful to see such love, such support, such trust be placed in me. The path forward was a gauntlet, a trial, I was able to reclaim the Golden Galea of the Proud. I can sleep comfortably again with it hiding my visage from the world. It is a symbol, a symbol of the Warrior. With my spark restored, We stood bravely against the tides of Orc'ah and Sibilant. Rallying to a hill we fought bravely upon for a time, but the tides did not cease. Sister Amélie being a guide through the way out of the never-ending wars.

Though, whilst we were in there. People were surprised at some of the tactics I chose. To hide, to skulk. These may not be the tried and true methods of the Warrior, but they are effective stratagems nonetheless. They kept us alive, and in that lies victory. We carved our path around the fields, making it to the Temple, beyond it a path lie out. And so we made our escape. Carrying the wounded. Returning to the War-Camp.

To victory. To you.

---

[Grenth Flamebringer's Talent to Perform is Average.]

[An average quality drawing with what seems to be a lot of painstaking detail placed into it. It is now of two figures, one dwarf, and one humanoid, who are both wearing Agasian helmets. The cloak of the humanoid is ablaze in a beautiful arc of oranges and reds. The humanoid has its arms wrapped around the dwarf in an embrace, the faintest hints of a smile appear through the shadows cast on this humanoid's face. The dwarf clings tightly to the humanoid, clearly comforted by his presence. Like lovers who haven't seen each other for a time, finally reunited once more.]

---

I will continue now. Forged again, I will lift those who need a warm word. I will heal those who are hurt. I will bring warmth to those cold.

It is good to love and to be loved back again. To you, Agaslakku. To be seen, to be known, to be trusted.

To those that have stood with me, to those that still do, to those that yet will.

I will try to find some rest. Tomorrow is a new day, and with it comes new challenges. The War still wages, and I will be there. To stand with my friends, to do what I can to lift them through it. Together, we have found the strength.

"Not all battles is won by force alone." - The Warrior, the Protector, the Murderer.

Something worth heeding for the fights to come.

Flame preserve me.

Nisah 18th, IY 7789

I sit here in the bunks, staring at the wall. The crates of the dead Duunthall have been removed for a long time. Durgin made sure of that, and I thank him for it. It wasn't good to see the haunting images of their names staring at me. I swear I could hear their spirits crying out to me from across the Edutu.

Ulfgrim snores beside me, his hair is surprisingly so soft, and Durgin's mumbling about orcs above me. Something about the Ear-Seekers Clan. Haldar was here earlier humming a song before heading to Zina's. I think Baelerie fell asleep in the bushes outside the Hall. It is a brief moment of peace here in the Hall. I've heard that there is always a calm before the storm, this must be it.

Meanwhile, I feel like I can't sleep. Too many scenarios are running around in my mind.

What do I need to do? Will I do it wrong? What if this is the wrong place? What if it doesn't show?

I can't think of these questions now though, I have to be confident. I have no more room or time to doubt. He will be watching. Once I sleep, the day will be full of challenges. It's probably among the hardest ones I've ever done. I must stand and fight for my blessings. For the gift of warm flames and war prayers to be returned to me from Agaslakku. A test of my faith. Blind. Daunting. Frightening.

Here's the plan:

[Various written plans are scratched out, and a few images of battle are also scratched out. The one below seems to have made it through the gauntlet of ideas.]

I'm going to try to keep it simple;

Demand my spark to be returned along with my helmet. They are gifts from Agaslakku.

If not, then I will try throwing healing water at the being. "Each wound you heal is a thousand cuts." It said that once, wonder if it's a hint? A weakness?

If that doesn't work, with the strength of my allies, I will mend my friends wounds as we war against this being.

Even more simple; Demand, Heal, War.

---

I should try to get some rest now.

Hear me, Warrior. Hear me, Agaslakku.

I promise to make you proud.

What is broken will be reforged.

Flame preserve me.

Nisah 17th, IY 7789

I walked around late last night, thinking, pondering, and planning. Got brought into a group to take down some spiders in some nearby caves. I've never been one who likes Spiders. I find them terrifying, way too many legs, and way too many eyes. Plus the way they just...skitter around is nightmarish on its own.

I remember a while back a member of Air and Shadow manifested in the den of spiders. Saying how Kick'shazha. Khik'shashy. Khiq'shasha, or whatever its name is, was one of their servants. That all the spiders were spies for that Court, and that they were watching. Just makes spiders even more nightmarish.

Eugh. Spiders...

---

I got to meet another new person to the Well, though they may not be that new, but they were new to me. Jan. He's an interesting sort, wields a sword though he was once a lumberjack. Came from one of the far off rings. It reminds me I know so little of these 'rings'. It feels odd to think that I was here, in this one over five millennia ago. Just sleeping as people went about their lives, running from ring to ring, trying to survive, only for me to awaken now.

Either way, I'm getting off-topic. Jan seems like a nice guy.

---

Baelerie came to talk to me today, it's come up a few times over the course of the day about my 'divine spark'. She said some great and wise words that I needed to hear. She believes in me, as do many others I suspect.

"I have faith in you. - Faith is a funny thing, you know? Sometimes it means taking a step even when you can't see the stairs. - You got plenty of friends that want to see you succeed, and I think maybe the most important one of all wants you to succeed too." - Baelerie Buletta.

I guess that's why they sometimes call it a leap of faith. Her words give me strength. I'm going to be victorious. I have to be.

---

It was nice to do board work again with the Duunthall. It feels like it has been so long since we were able to get together and do some work. I'll remember this day and cherish the memory fondly. On the cold nights, our laughter of victory will keep me warm.

---

[Grenth Flamebringer's talent to Perform is Average.]

[An average drawing of a dwarven figure standing slightly in front of a taller humanoid figure. The dwarf has a new helmet in contrast to the other drawings, it is more bucket-like than the previous one, his hands clasped somewhat timidly in front of himself, yet his posture is clearly comfortable thanks to the taller humanoid. The figure behind rests a hand upon the Dwarfs shoulder, features obscured by the shadows of an Agasian helmet, standing confidently and gladiator-esque. The cloak pinned over the black and white armour is lit aflame in a brilliant blaze of orange and red hues.]

He is with me. He is watching. I'm going to make the Warrior proud.

Flame preserve me.

Nisah 16th, IY 7789

I think I caught some sort of sickness yesterday. I don't think it had anything to do with this 'Plague' I hear people talking about. I had a pretty high fever. Like the flame inside was burning me from within. My muscles were aching and I was sore all over. I could hardly walk. It was some sort of sickness, but from what? It could be a result of not having my powers, or it could be something else entirely.

I still do not feel fully healed, but I'm getting better. Enough to walk around and war if I need to. It was so bad I couldn't even lift my arm and journal properly. I'm thankful that part of my sickness has passed. Ulfgrim kept checking in on me at night. Which was sweet of him. I'll remember that.

---

On the 18th I go to the Scald, to the place where this entity first appeared to me. I'm going to try using my words first to wage war against it. I know that blades did little to harm it. It has me thinking, it told me that I inflict a thousand cuts upon the world with my healing. Maybe I won't have to fight it to be victorious. Maybe all I have to do is heal it? I'm not sure, but it's good to be prepared for the worst.

I must ready myself. I know little about the fight that lies ahead. The constant worrying and wondering about what I might face is something I'm trying not to think about. I will just have to handle things in the moment as they come and prepare...as best I can.

Some have come forth and told me that they will stand by my side during my trial, my 'test of faith' perhaps. I'm grateful for my friends. Those who are willing to risk danger so that I can get my blessings back. It helps bolster my flame to know that people will stand with me.

Are you watching me, Agaslakku?

---

I sit here in the Krak staring into the hearth. I said 'hello' to a few folks and said a prayer for their victory on the board work they were undertaking. Something about heading to the Canyons to deal with the Sibilant.

I can feel the heat rising in me again, my fever is returning, and with it the aches and pains.

I think I'll head back to the Hall and find rest. Time to limp my way back. Tomorrow is a new day, and with it comes the many challenges it brings.

Flame preserve me.

[Warrior's]

Nisah 14th, IY 7789

Vilia is dead. She was here before I even came to the Well. Once the bellows went out, she was dead within an hour. A frightening thing, not only that she's apparently a brooker, but how fast one can be brought to justice should the Well demand it.

I'll mourn the woman I thought she was. I'll miss the moments we spent together on the board work. I'll miss the good I saw in her. I'll miss her.

'Snow' was eager to bring about justice for her crimes. I bumped into him and some new people in the Krak today. He speaks very ominously, but that's also what's so fascinating about him. 'Every grain of time is precious.' Every moment we spend in this world can have an impact. Miniscule or grandiose. He was the one who ended Vilia.

'You are required to root out evil if you foresee it, never assume innocence.' - Tenet of the Wroth.

---

Eleo found me today. He came to me as I sat in that sacred place. He spoke to me. It was kind of amazing how he could convey so much enlightenment in only four questions.

"Why do you sit in reflection here?"

"How have you lost your 'spark'?"

"What do you mean to do now?"

"What have you found on your path?"

"You will not know all the details in each battle you face. You will have to act without all the pieces and carry the risks there. Gather your allies, what strength they will lend you, and seek what was taken from you. - Have courage, define what your role in war is."

I will. I will step forward, the Warrior's warm hand on my back as I walk ever onwards. I'll carve my path as a healer, someone who mends the broken, who lifts up those who have fallen, who helps. I'll reforge what was broken.

---

[A hastily scribbled note is on the page.]

Get Rhuk a pretzel, and give him a break.

I found the pretzel, Ritz gave me a few, and now find Rhuk.

He deserves a break.

---

It was nice to speak to Ritz. She's opening a restaurant in Manta's name. It's nice that he will be remembered. The heroes of our Well need to be memorialized and remembered. Manta was a chef, an adventurer, a clerk, and an all-around good man. 'Casa Manta' she calls it. I can't wait to see it when it's ready to be unveiled. I told her I could already imagine the laughter that would echo from within. I know Manta would be proud of how high Ritz has soared now.

So then I wandered the Well, delivering pretzels. I gave one to Snow, and he tried to hide a smile. He even said it was 'alright'. That means they must be really good! To get a somewhat neutral response from a Uzzarii, then he told me to 'Keep one eye open, and to not trust him.' Or, by extension, anyone. It must be a lonely road, that of the Wroth. I commend those who walk it and respect them.

---

Overall though, I find my mood improving. I know the path I must walk, do I know what awaits me in five days? No, not at all. But, I won't be alone, and just knowing that gives me the strength to stand again. I'll reclaim Agaslakku's divine spark, I'll wield his flames again...

For what is broken, mends stronger than ever before.

I'll be whole again, and I'll lift those around me.

I'll take back the Golden Galea of the Proud.

However, something weird did happen to me today. I found the Auld Formorian Coin that the Marishyen gave me. An omen, perhaps.

Flame preserve me.