(in common)

Hello everyone. If you're reading this. I am dead. I’d like to have one last talk with you all. We have
known one another for a handful of weeks, but this time, I’ve grown closer to all of you than most
anyone I’ve known. You all have my thanks for allowing me to travel and live alongside our band of
misfits. In my eyes we are brothers in all but blood, and I hope you see each other the same way I
have.

Conrad, keep Vanya safe, and both of you live happily into your old age. I won’t forgive you if you
don’t.

Zhork, I wish you the best in the hunt for the Tophats. When you finish finding them all, I hope you
find peace with Eilistraee, and that your lyre sings the grandest of songs.

Kel, unless the situation has changed, I believe it is safe to assume I couldn’t keep my promise to
you. I apologize from the bottom of my heart, but I do hope you keep on take steps to avenge your
monistary, and that you find the best of luck in doing so.

Jin, I don’t know what you’d plan for yourself, but I hope you the best. Whether you lean towards
an honest living, I hope you find great fortune. If you chose the life of a thief, I hope you rob your
victims blind. Wherever you end up, be the best at it my friend.

If I may, there is one last favor I’d like to ask of you

There are things I don't want to die with me. I won't ask you to hold these memories for me, but at
the least, make sure they are not lost, for my sake. Thank you all. For everything.

With best wishes, Braken Laszlo Bloodpine.

(everything hereafter is written in Gnomish)

My name is Braken. Eighty three winters ago, I was born to Dion and Torres of the Bloodpine
family. I was the third child of four siblings.

Rusko, was thickheaded, I'm weary to call him slow, but I'm afraid the term describes him best.
Regardless, what he knew he excelled at with no equal. He was intelligent, but struggled to
understand some things. A wonderful craftsman. To simply call him a carpenter would be an
injustice. His carvings could chisel masterpieces, and and his sculpting was almost lifelike. He was
the eldest of us, and watched over my siblings and myself like a bear mothering her cubs.

Topi, my elder sister, had a mind sharper than any blade. She could read any face like a book, and
greatly enjoyed haggling with merchants and trading stories with travelers. She was a prodigy with
music. Even while playing drinking songs, she could make her lutes sing peerlessly. She taught
Rusko and myself to write songs, and she’s the only reason play I play my fiddle to this day. I can
never hope to match her talent.

Delos, the poor soul. He was but a a babe when the tragedy struck. (there are a handful of hastily
and violently scratched out lines afterwords. nothing of note can be made out.)

(he last entry is written shakily and marked with tears, and the remainder of the page is blank)
I had a friend, Ryos, who I very much enjoyed to spend time with, at the dissatisfaction of my
parents. He was son to Greatwood’s drunkard, but always chaotic, cheerfully so. We caused much
mischief as children, and a good bit in our maturity. We often made music with one another, fiddle
and pan flutes making bright sounds to whomever would listen.
Our home, Greatwood, was hidden in the north, among the Black Forests. We had visitors come
about every tenday or so, hunters, traders, the occasional adventurers. It was a quiet town, only a
few hundred of us called it our home, but we made the most of it. The only feature of note was a
great pine that stood in the center. It reached miles above the canopy, and had needles as crimson as
a dripping vein, my family's namesake. I remember my siblings and and friends often played on the
gnarled, twisting roots as children. Mother and Father where followed and researched it greatly,
being druids and all, and told us stories of the great tree. Legends of our forefathers birthed from it.
How it can give gifts to those it chooses. Its gift to me was my fiddle, and a cone of seeds. It must
have known it would fall soon.

But a week after it had gifted me these things, the Alltree fell. A dragon came with armies of
monsters, senselessly and unapologetically killing until it was all gone. I hid like a coward for days
till hunger drove me out. When I did, Greatwood naught but ash and rubble. The great tree was
reduced to a charred and torn stump. I looked for others, I only found the body of Delos. Save for
the occasional limb or bone, There where no others, apart from the occasional corpse of the
monstrosities that attacked our home. I buried who I could but, it quickly became a fruitless
endeavor. There where never bodies, but always another piece. A finger or foot or other thing. I
gave up when I found mother and fathers wedding bands.

I walked for what seemed like ages. The sky was overcast with smoke, and ash fell like snow. All
the trees where naked and blackened like charcoal. It gave me some hope when I felt snow under
my boots, and passed by trees whose limbs where not brittle.

Days continued, wearily marching, foraging what little there was, extaution gripped my heals, and I
did not sleep out of fear I would not wake up, that is, untill I found a woman hunting. We barely
spoke at the moment, but still she kindly allowed me to stay with her. Handed me bedding, share
her spoils and bandaged my wounds. The first weeks I was haunted by night terrors, mainly of
smoke and screams, but occasional nightmares of a great masked figure combating creatures
wreathed in darkness. Whenever I woke from these, she was always there with a comforting hand
and a gentle song to lull me back to sleep. She always tried to hide her face, but her posture, her
strength, her speech, her mannerisms, it infatuated me. I wrote it off as the wild thoughts of a
troubled man, but time marched on and these feelings remained. She never spoke her name to me, I
jokingly called her Archer, but she seemed to like the moniker. I remained with her for a handful of
years, and they where nice. Much of them where spent simply talking of past tales, or lengthy
escapades to accompanied her hunting. Oftentimes the two of us tracked down lost journymen and
guided them back to paths. Others we found and told off Poachers and Game Hunters. Between
these events, we tracked strange creatures, Dryads, Satyrs, and plenty of animals common to the
wood. Archer’s favorites where Great Elk, not for folly but simply to find and enjoy the presence of.
Oftentimes, we played a game of sorts, playfully searching for one another in the forest. I managed
to find her a handful of times. But I could never hide from her eyes.

This all changed when I found her name. We where sitting at a fire, like most nights, cooking a
fresh hare and warming our bones, when she made an offer to me. She knew I grieved for my home
and those I have lost, and promised that, if I would remain by her side for my life, she would help
me return the great tree, and when I passed my blood would water its roots. I agreed without a
moment to reconsider, how could I not? I could wish for nothing more than my home to return. And
at what cost? She was kind, strong, and caring. She had given me purpose when I had none. She had
my heart long before she asked for it.

Then she revealed herself to me. I heard storied in my childhood of a hunter with many names “The
Great Fey”, “The Destroyer”.
Huntokar.

A being that walked Toril before any others. Protector of the young world. The figure in my
nightmares many moons prior.
I looked upon her and I saw a duality before me, the first of Archer, whom I spent many night
drinking and sharing spoils of victory with, she who sang me to sleep on many a troubled night.
And the other, a fairytale I was told in my youth, a legend I once believed where to scare children
and warn against fools.
But my perception was skewed. Despite my thoughts at the time, Archer and Huntokar where one in
the same.

I committed my greatest sin that day. I ran. I ran from the woman I loved and who loved me in
return. In that moment, I feared her, what she was, and what she would do. I feared all our years
together where simply a comfortable lie. That day I abandoned my savior.

I can not imagine her disappointment nor the pain I caused her. So, we played our old game. I ran. I
hid and she gave chase. Understandably so. Forty years of cat and mouse. Constantly running.

I made coin and staggered through life charading as a storyteller during these times, recounting
stories of my youth, and legends of home, and other tales I picked up traveling.

I worked my way down the Swords Cost, rarely staying in a place more than a day. That is, till I met
a band of misfits. There where four of them, two half-elves, a strange looking human and a bugbear
of all things. We all where summoned by written note by an unknown penname, and all of us
anwsered the call. Thus began the nightmare that is Barovia.

A black carrage ferried us off, and we all fell asleep before we stopped again. We woke in wooden
coffins and trekked from a cave to the only buildings we could make out. A small town named
Vallaki. On our exploration, we met a pair of children asking for help, claiming there was a monster
in their home, and that their brother was in danger. There indeed where plenty of monsters there.
One of which took my life.

I woke to a being I’d rather not speak of. He offered me a second chance if I did a favor for him.
Trap the Hunter. I accepted, and returned. Not as I was, but returned nonetheless. It was strange, and
still is. Sleep evades me constantly, my hands are numb, my hair grows gray, my heart does not beat
and my skin is no longer warm. I am Undead.

In the following weeks, I came to know my companions better. One of the half-elven man, taller
and with darker hair and a stronger jaw, goes by Detective Caver, or simply Conrad for brevity. He
is the studious type, always solving problems that lay before him. He has given his heart to another,
a strikingly well spoken and petite elven woman, the two complement eachother greatly, a very
wholesome pair.

The other half-elf, turns out isn’t an the least bit elvish at all, but instead a changeling. Jin seems
like a lost soul, somewhat like myself, running from his past, but he seems to be much more
comfortable with his isolation. I’m not sure what his history holds, but he seems contempt to leave
it be, so I wont pry on his secrets. He does seem to have some sticky fingers, and its bitten him in
the arse a time or two, but he seems to be getting better. Recently despite ample opportunity to
abandon us, he has shown commitment to helping the others in our group, and I cant help but feel
something reminiscent of pride. Still as it may be, it warms my heart to see a man dedicate himself
to his allies.
Kel, is in interesting fellow. He seems human at the outlook, but his eyes shape like almond, and his
jaw thins much like a gnome’s. Physically he is an enigma to me, one moment he can be a lovable
oaf who has a sweet tooth, and the next he can be a towering menace, ready to strike down an
offender. He venerates Kelemvore, a god who's hand presides the fair judgment of the dead. It ofte
plauges my mind whether his god frowns upon him for allowing me to be. I do not know, but I do
not wish to cause trouble for him. We’ve made a number of promises to one another. Most of which
we would follow regardless of speaking oaths to one another. Most where made in the moment to
stay our nerves, but I wholly believe we intend to uphold each others bargains. I promised to help
him avenge the death of his monistary, where he was raised and grew.

And lastly is the Bugbear Zhork. A large shadow of brawn and fur. He is an assassin, also on a quest
for revenge. He is, unique to say the least. I see much of my elder brother in him. He is a pleasure to
be around, when he is not threatening you. It only happened a handful of times and the situation was
easily diffused. His speech is somewhat simplistic and shorthand, however, if you pay attention, it is
shockingly efficient especially in a scuffle. His goals are clear, he is hunting a gang of mercenaries
and bounty collectors who had betrayed and killed his mentors. Originally he has no plans for after
his goal completed, but he has found a path for himself. He was gifted a Lyre, supposedly by a
goddess of the dark elves, Eilistraee. Music seems to be a significant calling to him, one I am glad
to see hin follow. I attempted to pass on what I knew, but he is learns much better on his own
accord. Perhaps the goddess guides his hands. His songs are beautiful nonetheless.

(hereafter are two pieces, marked, noted, marked again and rewritten, as sets of lyrics)
 -No title-

Faint lights in the distance

a thin line that separates
your shadows from my soul
as these walls begin to fold

Head lost in the silence

cold stars illuminate
the secrets on your tongue
and the poison in my lungs

Where every passage ends

a new road begins,
The further we descend
In this labyrinth

Blind eyes in the darkness

frail hands reaching out
toward echos in the smoke
as the doors behind me close

No cure for the madness

each turn tangled in
the fear of losing sight
of the slowly fading light

Where every passage ends

a new road begins
the further we descend
In your labyrinth.
 - no title -

As I grew, from your supple hands

I could be a burden
but you’d understand

Though the child’s gone

I’m still a mixed-up kid
like I need you now
like I always did

Life’s got me tumbling down the stairs again

Unusually blue
I got scratched up and bruised
just as I asked for help once
You already knew
I felt thrown out and used

There’s nothing like your eyes

to recognize my pain
Uncovering the lies
I told myself in vain
There's nothing like your hands,
so gentle with my heart,
to hold me in my grief.
to make me feel apart

I can feel your love right now

and the laughs and cries we’d take to the ground

Looking round to the ones I love

I can feel it slip
then the moments gone
Did I blink to fast
caught up in my ways
Wishing I’d go back
to these good old days

And now you Tumbled down the stairs again,

Unusually blue
I got you scratched up and bruised
I see a shadow pass by me again
I already knew
You feel thrown out and used
You don’t have to ask
I’ll lift beneath the veil
Letting in some light
to remind you of the day
But if you want to hide
afraid to face the sun
I swear I’ll be there
 and I’m not the only one

Can you feel my love right now

and the laughs and cries we’ll take to the ground.