I feel as though I walk through a hazy dream, seeing places and persons that have haunted my nights, but none that I can remember when I open my eyes.

It seems it took an eternity to return...to return to a place and time once oft visited, but now appearing new all over again. New and strange. Will I ever grow accustomed to seeing the varied creatures and distortions of nature that roam this place and not want to reach for the sword at their appearance? I wonder if I ever grew used to it when last I walked this realm. Yet I lacking elven features, supernatural form, and mystic powers must seem equally the oddity...a being not to be trusted.

I discovered the knoll overlooking the city where I used to spend quite a bit of time, according to my old journal. I found a few items cached there along with a few weapons and a pouch of silver coins. I've made every effort to familiarize myself with the descriptions of the people and places I had once written of, though my previous entries were brief at best. There were huge gaps in the accounts, leaving me to only surmise what happened in those spaces.

The Red Dragon Inn was not difficult to locate. It's practically the magnetic center of the realm, drawing creatures of every description within its walls. My intention was only to observe, see and not be seen. Those intentions fell to the wayside quite quickly. There were a few individuals there, even some who appeared to be mortal. A brunette in particular nodded to me soon after I arrived, though I know not whether we were once acquaintances. I remained hidden within the shadows of a hood, so she might have just been being polite.

Shea of Greenstone was there, along with a lupine ally of hers, though I don't recall if Shea spoke her name. I must pay closer attention to names when they are given. Shea looked as I might have expected from the descriptions in the journal, with the exception of being heavy with child, that little detail was lacking in my writings, though mention of her had become scarce in the latter entries. The better part of what I know of her comes from the letters she had written which were saved with the journal. To say we had been through much together would be a monumental understatement. Yet now, she approaches me with trepidation...the emotional hurt and scars I caused are burried, but present all the same.

Time is the moderator of all things. I have only to be patient - from my writings, that is a lofty expectation.

- - -

Several days have passed since my last entry. I'm beginning to understand why there were so many long gaps in my old journal - this place, these people are simply not easily described in words. Had I not written them by my own hand, I'm not sure I would believe the tales inked on the pages.

It seems the most difficult task to accomplish in the Inn is to have a cup of tea. On two separate occasions an elven woman named Asha has tried to share a hot brew with me only to be intruded upon by foul demons and boisterous orcs. I assume she is elven by race, by the point of her ears, but in truth, I know very little of the races and kindreds that fill the streets and halls here. Those that I have met, Mercy, Shea, Eless, Asha, Jade and others, they all exibit extraordinary skills and compassion. Most, if not all, can manipulate the elements and have some form or ability to heal.

Humans, mortals, are rarer still in this realm, perhaps for good reason. I imagine the life expectancy of a mortal could be cut by half the earthly rate once he or she sets foot here. God only knows what preserves their lives in this shadowed realm.

I felt a rift or shift of some kind last eve, it nearly rocked me to me knees. I couldn't breathe - it felt as though some large stone were pressing me down. I found in my journal only one other such occasion where I had sensed a similar energy. It was then, as I fear now, the harbringer of bad news.

I'm slowly coming to accept my fate, whatever that may be. If I am to live out the remainder of my days here, then so be it. The answers i thought would be so readily found are hid from me still and shall probably always remain such. Perhaps there never were any answers here, only unspoken questions.



- - - - -

I wonder, at times, which Connar is more at home in this realm; the Valdor who first came chasing shadows and now laments for two worlds having slipped through his grasp. Or the Connar wiped clean of his former life and existence, left on his own to make his way anew, freed from any former restraints or bonds.

Shea mentioned that "death comes for us all" when we spoke the previous night, to which I replied that I much preferred chasing death rather than have it come for me. Is that what I am doing, chasing death? I would have thought my motives and actions were inspired by more noble, lofty directives. But even as the ink is yet drying on these words, I can think none that fell under my sword that were lifted to a higher plane, or inspired to be better people...or creatures...or whatever their maker created them to become. I can only hope that those deaths freed others from oppression and fear, that the lives taken and spared served a greater good.

In a realm where allegiances are many, powers are infinite and unfathomable, and reliance upon a higher god is simply not needed, is there a place for one such as I? I've been sorely tempted on many occasions to slip into the bookstore or library, and pull from the shelves one of the many historic tomes that would reveal what is to befall earth and its people from the Dark Ages forward, to have some assurance that not all was lost somehow, that efforts, tears, and blood were not shed in vain. The scriptures make mention of a "falling away" that must occur. It leaves me to wonder whether that has already happened or is yet to come. In the end it will be left for time to reveal.

I have spent many hours conversing with a few of this realm's more colorful inhabitants...or visitors, as the case may be. Shylah the norsewoman, in particular, has me looking in the mirror with deeper introspection than I could ever have imagined. Others, like Asha, reaffirm to my mind that good and evil and the struggle between them is a common thread in life's fabric - no matter where that life or struggle may be.

But it is in the silent hour of the night, after much reflection and pondering, that I've come to realize what it is I seek to find here...what drives me to return time after time. The answer came softly, as gentle as a whisper, but struck me with more force than a massive stone. The knowledge is empowering in many ways, more so than I would have thought. The fulfillment of that which I seek might not be found on Rhydin's shores.

I'm certain, given time, all will be revealed.

- - -

Tis said that the pen is mightier than the sword, and, in truth, words are mighty at inspiring men to seek liberty and freedom, in encouraging many generations to strive for loftier planes.

But now it is the sword that must stand in defense of the ideals scratched upon the faded parchments. Blood and death will be the ransomed price of the ink-stained page. And in the end, ignorance, power and greed will blot out light and truth if but for a season.

When power and wealth rest in the hands of the few, tis the many that suffer under the oppressive weight. It is the charge of those free enough to see the truth and light to be the voice of the weak, to carry the banner of freedom to those unable to fend for themselves.

I have known many such empowered individuals, none stronger nor more dedicated than those I met within Rhydin's walls. Tis their courage in the face of great adversity - beyond the ability of mortals to imagine - that continues to inspire and cause me to marvel. To them I offer love and admiration unfeigned.

If, in fact, death does come for us all, then I am far past its reckoning by now...I have turned a deaf ear to the dry, raspy call of a shallow grave for century upon century, its cry is but a faint whisper now.

My blood has stained the ground red time after time, and I live to fight another day. God willing, I shall do so yet again. I do not put my trust in the strength of steel nor the flesh that wields it, but to the source of all truth and light.