Kellach had received the very first part of his brother's journal throughout their people's history and culture, and he laughed out loud. How much of a coincidence was it that he'd stumbled onto the exact look that one of his childhood heroes wore? The story of Kechir Hunter was quite the tale, though he himself would have trouble telling it, especially after the reveal that, well, Kechir was actually Kechire, that he was a she, and that the harness was never blessed, but in fact, more of a curse than anything.
That did not deter him - not that anything would. He knew he looked good, and the mask was far more utilitarian than most would care to know. He smirked and readjusted it before re-reading his brother's letter.
That did not deter him - not that anything would. He knew he looked good, and the mask was far more utilitarian than most would care to know. He smirked and readjusted it before re-reading his brother's letter.
Letter to Kellach Woods Wrote:How fare you, Brother?
I have completed the first part of what I hope to be several, chancing out on some choice information that a minstrel had on him. Truly, the tale that I am debunking has a good moral - Honoring and serving the elements can take many forms. Including restoring the truth.
If you would be a hero, I sincerely hope you will read what I have learned of your main inspiration, Kechir Hunter. You may be shocked by the truth, but I would give you my word that all I have written is verified to the last word. The port's archives mention a specific Sea Wolf boat moored at that time, with a strange individual on board more interested in our way of life than resupplying, and that he was always writing in a journal of sorts.
In other news, I believe Mother is over her grief - While we lost a father, she lost the love of her life while he spouted blasphemous words towards the very elements who sustain us. She needed time - and fortunately, time is a commodity we can afford, what with the rest of the community helping me with our farm while Mother grieved.
Sadly, we may have to return the favor. Yeozephina Fields has recently died from childbirth. The baby could not be saved, either. The Fields are taking it quite harshly, and the Tree is to be planted two days from the time I write this letter. I may have to perform the Offering to Fire for them, this year.
I pray Wind safely carries this letter to you,
Einrich
