A black diary.

[grant]

An old tattered diary lays bound in worn oilskins, moisture and rodents have had their way with it. It lay hidden under a loose board in a small bedroom in a partially burnt out house outside Arbitor's Stand. Its entries begin several years ago and are mostly day to day fluff of a happy young girl in a loving family.

The beginning entries are written in feminine hand, elegant and flowing.

[illegible]:1366
He took me to the Chanuntean spring festivities, oh my so much wine and dancing and couples seeking off into the bushes! We did to, it was awkward and messy and fun, we were out all night. Mother just looked at me and smiled that funny smile she gets when she think she knows what I have been up to when she caught me sneaking in. I was so embarrassed I ran to my room.

A few weeks later.

I am not feeling well again, I threw up before breakfast but was able to eat afterward. Mother wants to talk to me tonight after Father goes woodcutting, so I am not allowed to go.

The next day.

Oh, joy! Chauntea blessed me! I am going to have a baby mother said so, we were both so happy. I have to tell him, he will be back from the fighting in 3 more weeks.

[mostly illegible] plans being made for the arrival of a new child.

He, pushed me! Called me horrid names, he does not believe it. Something is wrong, I felt it when I fell. [illegible]

Father went to his commanding officer for justice, but he had found out maybe he saw the priests leaving. He has fled. I lost MY child and he flees for Avanthyr! The priest said [illegible] NEVER!

*Further entries have lost something, the writing is not longer the same flowing script, it is lifeless.

[illegible]
When I get upset now I make lights, rather pointless, magic is so stupid. The Orcs are marching, I have to flee with the other young people, Mother and Father are following latter. Who cares its all pointless anyway.

[weeks later]
I met a priestess when I was hiding and crying after I found out Mother and Father were killed, the orcs attacked the night I left. She noticed the lights going on and off. I told her everything and I felt better. I am not to speak of my pain to anyone else again, she said if I hide it and pray and am faithfull The Lady of Loss will take my pain away forever! Tomorrow night she is showing me more things to do with this magic.

[illegible]
Home again, I was at Avanthyr, when the ship he left on returned, I talked to the crew, I have a destination! The house is burned Mother and Father are dead. The priestess is sending my to talk to the brothers and sisters far away, she says I am young, but have suffered much and am no longer an innocent. I will be accepted and trained she is sure. It is not far from where he ran to, she says they will help me ruin him.

I do not need this book to keep my secrets any more! The Lady and her priests will keep them for me.

[grant]

People passing by this house on their way to and from the fort see a freshly cut plank of wood and a bottle containing what looks like a healing potion sitting in the doorway. It looks much like a memorial of sorts. No one can recall any sort of memorial being left here before.

[grant]

Again a young woman is seen before this house, and a again a offering is left.

[grant]

Remembrance:
Step, pause, step, pause... she reapeted the motion as she advanced on the bound male laying on the bed, until recognition and renewed fear caused him to begin his futile struggling again. When he finally ceased struggling sweaty and gasping for air, she spoke.

"You ran from your crime, deserted your post as a Scholii, you killed your own child and rendered me barren in the process. Did you think you would never be caught? Did you think that neither justice or revenge would catch up to you? As soon as your ship returned to Sundren I knew where you had fled to. For the last five and a half years you have been watched. I received letters when you wed, when your child was born, when your wife died."

She pauses and draws a shot bladed knife from a case.

"Tonight it is my turn, your child will be taken from you, as will your ability to create new life. This knife is enchanted, as long as I refuse to forgive you, what I take from you tonight can not be magically restored or regenerated. My death by any cause will make the damage eternal."

She draws the knife over a thumb, cutting her self, she smears her blood over the blade causing the metal to glow with a silver light.

"As for your child, I do not know the name of the one talking him, nor do any of my companions, hunting me down for any information will be futile. I do not know what will become of him but unlike you I will not take a child's life."

"Perhaps you should pray to your precious Torm for justice, if he is not laughing at you now."

With that she leans over the bed and with one quick slice of the knife removes his testicles and casts them into the fire place at the end of the room.

"Put him to sleep", she says as she pours a healing potion over the gaping wound.

[grant]

Remembrance continued.

"The potion will wipe the spells from his mind?", she turns to a companion. Upon seeing the nod she smiles, "Good. And you could not magically locate any more spell books, scrolls or other magics?," she asks another companion. "Keep what you like, throw the rest in the fire with his balls. I see no reason that as your business competitor he should be left in any better condition than I leave him."

Turning to the rest.

"Brothers, sisters of the night, I thank you for keeping an eye on this one for me. I thank you for your service this evening. May the Dark Goddess bless you and your works."

[grant]

The present:

Oh Goddess Shar I can not convince her to wait, Please help me.

Turning her thoughts to the woman again.

"Please I beg you, do not do this!"

Moments later:
Despite her best efforts to save this mother she lay dead on the ground. Males they know nothing of getting between a mother and her child. Accuse her of necromancy all you like, you would not begrudge a female bear from doing all in its power to protect its young.

Holding the child in her arms the young Monk whispers both soothing words to calm her and ease her pain and words for her to nurture, the names of the men, the gods they worshipped, who they worked for and to remember what they did to her mother. That should she wish it, when she was older her mothers Goddess would help her gain vengeance.

Later:

She did not really understand why it was so important to her that she see the dead mother laid to rest, besides the feeling of guilt over failing one of the faithful. Some of the Paladins words rang to true, she cared nothing for the dead bandit or his family, then neither did he as the second ran off in the direction of the wraith infected portion of the Viridale.

After what felt like hours arguing her case for a decent burial, the past floods her mind like a gift, and perhaps it was, the Goddess had the ability to bring recall, for she finally says the one thing that makes the Paladin back down.

"No, and you will never be a daughter who can only visit her mothers resting place as ashes mingled amongst the remains of her families burnt out home. Is it really so wrong to wish another child not have to go through that?"

Relief washed over the pain her memories had stirred up as the Paladin indicated the place he had left the body.

Carefully gathering up the body she warped it in her cloak and solemnly carried it to Sestra. She had been so lonely since dealing with her Scholii betrayer and making the final leg of her return to Sundren. She had managed to find two new kindred souls, almost lost one and had lost the other. She would ask, and pay if needed, the Kelvemorites to take care of her, she knew of no other place to take her. She still needed to find more she could call family, she was lonely.

[grant]

She sits on a bluff edge, throwing rocks into the water below.

"This is not supposed to be." She punctuates each word with a thrown rock.

"I am almost alone again. One Father in this land, no brothers or sisters any more."

To an observer rocks would be appearing in mid air and sailing over the edge.

"Paladin party."

"Rescued form damn spiders of all things."

"Getting married. Shesh, just use him and leave him and raise your child alone."

She sobs, "like I should have done."

She sits hunched over, bathed in a pain that no bandage or spell can heal.

---
The next day the Exigo Sergeant receives word from adventures of goblins who were found choked to death on bundles of arrows shoved down their mouths, war-drummers with their drumsticks driven into their brains through their ears, eyes and noses, and even goblins who died by crossbows used as picks.

[grant]

Strife and happiness.

The goblin waits in ambush, it had been a long wet morning and hiding in bushes on the surface during day light hours is not what he wanted to be doing. A tap on his shoulder brought his attention back to the top of the low rise that marked the edge of their territory. A single human, in a dress, not robes of a wizard, a dress. He blinked rapidly that was not a staff, staffs do not have bundles of straw tied to one end. A broom? A human dares to invade the Great Spittlefist territory with a broom, what a fool. A dead fool. He readied his short sword and waited for the signal, he could see the amused expression in the patrol leaders face as he gave it.

Breaking cover they charged and the archer and crossbow bearing goblins behind them prepared to fire.

Wait, this is not right she should be fleeing, or bracing to defend her self, not charging! As they are about to collided he sees her stop and level the brooms bristles at them as she shouts a word in their foul tongue.

He blinks up at the sky, his vision clearing, wind he thinks there was wind and I fell over. There are foot steps coming toward him, he can not hear his companions calling out. Struggling to sit up he sees her, the dark human in the dress, and he see the other end of the broom coming at his face.

The last thing his ears hear is a voice in a language he can barley speak, but it does not matter, he is no longer there to make sence of the fading signals.

"It looks stupid, has a stupid name, but I like it."

She let her thoughts cover the recent happenings as she picked through the goblins belongings. Life in Sundren was looking up, the government could not take back Mirakus Post, the publics faith and moral was falling daily. The vampires focused more and more attention on the night, though they really had to go, or give their allegiance to the proper patron. To bad their conversation was interrupted the other night. The people were loosing, freedom, hope, and faith in the current system. Tonight she would have more secrets to whisper to her patron along with her prayers, Sestra was loosing a competent commander as fast as he was loosing friends, friends who would use a maybe-innocent, against him. Though a real friend would keep his secrets, except from a proper priest. Loss was the nature of the lady and the people of Sundren were loosing much, she had to be pleased.

"Oh, blueberries!"

[grant]

A change.

At some point gratitude for one boon had became six years worth of devotion. She never gave her devotion to Sune for the years of loving attention from her parents. She never gave it to Mystra or Azuth for her arcane gifts. Yes she had thanked them, she thanked every god of whom she asked for and received a favour from, even Sune who she had not asked for loving parents. Yet she had chosen Shar as a patron those many years ago and had done terrible things in her service, willingly, with joy, with gratitude and in the end with no satisfaction.

"Ao, many years ago I set aside the patron of my childhood and chose, in haste I fear, another who's teachings and wisdom would guide my steps into the future. Your child's teachings I can no longer follow. I pray for your indulgence and guidance as I look for another who's manner is in keeping with the life I chose to lead in the future."

She shifts her position in front of the fire.

"Tyr and Hoar, forgive me for seeking justice and vengeance by my own hand, for not having faith enough in you to bring it forth for me. Tonight I begin to make what amends I can to the one I took vengeance on."

She takes a familiar small knife from a wooden case and draws the blade across her thumb like she did before. Upon contact with her blood the knife flashes into a bright silver light, a light that slowly dims and goes out as she coats the blade in her blood.

"Scholii, I forgive you. Stay put, there will be a letter coming to you, you will have your child back."

[grant]

The Letter

Joran Farholme,

Your son can be found in the Orphanage in Luskan, monies were paid to keep him in good health but un-adopted. You can claim him by using the name you left behind when you fled Sundren with. You will also find scrolls to aid in rebuilding your spell books. I picked ones I felt would be of use in retrieving your son and rebuilding your life. Leave the town you are in, just leave, you are not safe there. The ones who were watching you have their own reasons to dislike you. Finally, if you have not been able to tell, the curse laid on you by the knife has been lifted. Magic healing will now restore that which I took from you.

Finally, I am sorry. I am sorry I nurtured my anger for so long. You know it was not my nature to do so. The last years have, I hope, been a temporary aberration of my spirit that I am now trying to overcome. I have asked forgiveness from Tyr and Hoar for stepping in and doing what I felt they denied me. From you I ask only that you know that I plan on doing what I can to make sure I never do the same to another ever again.

I hope your future is filled with the peace I seek for my self.
The flower of the spring festival.

[grant]

A plan.

She paces. Disturbed by the news that the girl they tried to save really was not the first as the note claimed. Five young women with their futures before them, dead. A threat of more to come.

"This can not stand. I can not allow these murders to continue," she looks into the water and sees her self looking back; Sestra's cove is calm, the waters flat.

A slow smile creeps over her face. "As father said, when your hook is bare and your hungry even the bait starts to look good. Now I need to see what the others think."

She gathers up her fishing gear and catch, and takes another look at the young woman in the water. "It might work, Chauntea knows I know my way around a farm well enough to pass for a dreamy farm girl."

[grant]

Change

Her thoughts are in turmoil. For weeks since deciding to leave the Black Moon and leave Shar she has been lost. Orders that she might join would not accept her as she is. Other orders would, but she sees no better life serving Bane, the philosophy of death, or Talona.

Almost in a daze she stands before the Brother of order of the Sun Soul in Sune's temple.

"Brother, I seek guidance. I can no longer pursue the, worship, goals and accepted virtues of my former order or its patron. I seek wisdom at this time, and help in becoming a better person."

[grant]

Brother, I am ready. I enter seclusion and retire from the world at large until my penance is judged completed. I freely give my self to the order of the Sun Soul and service to Sune.

The diary is closed?

[grant]

She kneels before the alter of Sune. She has been here for days praying to be accepted. She thought about the words of her friend: She was beautiful, though she did not often feel so. She had passion, for Sundren, enemies, traitors, undead, she loved her home despite its faults. Love, Passion, Beauty. All things she possessed or strived for. Maybe it was not enough she thought.

The magic light above her flickered and went out. She could fix it, light was the first thing that had come to her in the dark. She reached for the shadow weave, and it was gone! This was not possible, she knew the shadow could be touched in the temple, she had just been too polite to weave it. In a panic she tried reaching out again, another spell, then another, one by one she reached out and found that not only was the shadow weave gone so were the spell patterns. She sprang to her feet in full panic now and promptly stumbled and fell to the ground.

She lay there tears in her eyes staring into the dark. That was an easy move she had mastered it years ago, she felt like a clumsy novice. Wait?

[grant]

Somewhere under Calimport, several years ago.

She stood in a line of her fellow initiates while the Master paced in front of them, hands clasped behind his back, lecturing.

You have all been instructed in the use of the true weave, almost any idiot can feel the other one. Now you need to know that every order varies in its practice, you enjoy a blending of the martial discipline and your arcane discipline. Know this comes at a price, if your touch with the shadow weave is severed you can loose a great deal of your martial skills too.

In the Sune temple in Aquor.

She got up and bolted for the main temple doors, nauseous and in tears she sped past startled petitioners. Getting outside was like hitting a wall of ice. Everything flooded back, the shadow weave, the knowledge the sheer power.

She stopped dead and considered, but not for long. She turned and re-entered the temple, still in tears but with a smile. Content with this loss.