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Often have I seen these glimpses of another’s memories, though I don’t yet understand how or why I see them. It comes upon me randomly with no true rhyme or reason and has since I was very young. Always, it’s a memory of the past, not some portent of the future. So I can only wonder what it is I’m meant to glean from these fragmented pieces of psyche. Most recent were memories of an elezen man called Abe, though I can’t seem to correlate who they belong to. Not Erimmont, nor any of the ladies at the Red Lantern. Not Bojan or Ludovraint. Nor can it be Khargis. Nothing seems to match up among those I know at present. Always in the past I could coordinate what memory came from which person within my sphere of influence, but this has left me in a conundrum of confusion. To whom do these memories belong and why have I seen them? Who is this young whipping boy made to drink vile potions that made him desperately ill? Moreover, why was he made to leave his society after all he had done to save those around him? Curiouser and curiouser… Eternally, there are too many questions and not enough answers.

Entry Two By Ochon’s Weary Wanderings… these dream-jumps are really a trip and a half. The last time it happened, I ended up in a place called Eulmore, at a club called “The Beehive”… let me tell you. I thought no place could put the Quicksand to shame. I was wrong. So very, very wrong. Needless to say, I was exceptionally glad to get pulled back home. This next trip, though, was to yet another unknown place. It was beautiful with flowers everywhere and a gorgeous castle off in the distance. It was as idyllic a place as one could ever hope for. Karaan was there, but none of the others that I’d seen previously were. I wonder if they ended up in different places like I had. I prayed that none of them had to endure the Beehive. Gods, spare them that! We investigated the castle at the heart of the area, but found it shuttered and locked with no visible way in beyond the front doors. There were strangely no guards either, only a bizarre pair of bushes at the base of the stairs that looked like grotesque little men with wooden spears. Unusual topiary, to say the least. As Karaan and I stood outside the castle, we started to hear voices. They wanted to play a game, so they cut us a deal: One of us plays the game, the other is the prize to be won. If we win, we get the prize and the way out of this place. If we lose, we get stuck there, forever, to play with them for all time. No, thank you, I’ll take the challenge any day of the week! We decided that I’d be the Player and Karaan the prize, just in case they decided to send us swimming in the lake. Karaan can’t swim at all, much to my surprise, I offered to teach him after this was all over. It’s a survival skill no one should be without. Sillesti taught me that often enough, along with my parents. You never know where your quarry will choose to hide, so it’s best to be prepared for any terrain or situation. I played their game, which was easy enough. One silly children’s riddle, then I had to do something ‘daring’ but they made no stipulations. I chose to sing a silly pirate shanty and hop on one foot. Not something I’d normally do, but then, they didn’t say it had to be something dangerous. They seemed thoroughly entertained by it, as did Karaan. I just wanted to get us out of there. Imagine my surprise when the voices promised that we’d have safe passage through their kingdom for such marvelous entertainment. That’ll be a blessing in the future, I imagine. I departed with my “prize” and it was well in good time, Karaan started to fade and return to our own world. We said we’d meet up somewhere in reality, I had to teach him to swim, after all. Special Thanks Player of Karaan Nolan and orchestrator of fae-folk fun! Zhan'a Rakhin Mastermind behind Woven.

Entry One Sillesti had me working on bandersnatch hides all afternoon, stretching them on the racks for curing. I know what he’s trying to do and I get it, but I really wish he wouldn’t. Just the smell of them brings back bad memories. It makes me sick at my stomach… I was eternally glad that some noble-turned-ruffian came calling, looking for a hunter to track some beastie down with him. I didn’t even care about the particulars, I just wanted to get away from those bandersnatch hides and all the memories they evoked. He called it an “odd creature” and, having seen it up close, I’d have to say this noble doesn’t travel Dravania much. Dragonflies are pretty common in the Forelands, so we’re used to dealing with them. A bit of silencing powder to keep it from calling for reinforcements and a few serrated arrows to cut through its hide and the job’s done. I don’t know what kind of fights this noble has gotten into before, but he certainly has a flair for the dramatic. Not at all a practical sort of hunter. He could have just as easily sliced through the thinner wing membranes instead of jumping onto its back to carve at its withers. Ah well, I suppose I can give him points for style? It was good to get out and hunt, though, to have something else to think about besides … things I’d rather not think about. It wasn’t particularly lucrative, but given that this was a simple hunt with no real effort on my part, it didn’t really feel right to charge him like I did something significant. Seems like he has more business out here in the Forelands, though, other “things to clean up” as he put it. His family has a ‘summer house’ out here somewhere that is likely overrun with either creatures or cultists. He seemed unsure that I’d take a job hunting people, but people ruin the balance of the world just like some animals do. So long as I’m not hunting them for sport; I don’t kill just for the sake of killing. There has to be a purpose, a reason. Not just that someone wants them dead. He seemed agreeable to that, so I think we’ll get along just fine. Me and this Karaan.