The road south has proven quiet…for the most part. Emeric seems to be in better spirits since our departure from the town of Keep. Another altercation took place, just as the others have on our sojourn towards The Citadel. A man named Pek, one of the caravan wagon drivers, took exception to my presence and wasn’t pleased when he found his preparations were in vain. Events proved beyond anyone’s control as the guards meant to accompany us on our journey instead were dispatched to rein in the attacks of a well-known bandit group in the area. The most I was able to determine is that they hide their identities behind white masks. Even as those involved described the incident, it didn’t take long before the name Frostborn found itself bandied about.
With such actions defining those cursed by the touch of Thrym, or as so many truly believe, it’s hard to fault the views of a man like Pek. All I can be, all I can do, is be true to my word and to myself. It’s the only thing I can hold onto in these times, as the winter bite pushes further south each year. Maybe one day people might know me for who I am, give me the chance to prove that I am simply as they are, an Anari just trying to find a place in this world and struggling to understand the forces which have blessed me with these strange abilities. Each day Emeric patiently explains to me how I might manipulate these gifts and how to apply my arts. I’m far from being as skilled as he is, able to channel the flow of energies around those he wishes to leave unscathed. My brother, despite his protests to the contrary, is a truly patient man. I’m lucky to be at his side and glad he invited me along on this endeavor.
I have to wonder what kind of reception we might find on the other side of the world, past the mountain wall blocking our path. Will people be different? Do Frostborn even exist there? Perhaps it won’t be as bad as the times in Myre. I’m heartened by the actions of some of my caravan companions. Though they know me not and the fight is surely not their own, they have shown compassion and true hearts. I know that Emeric is grateful, just as I am, that they would stand up for me. It was unexpected, but they have my sincere gratitude and heartfelt thanks.
We are 9 days into our journey at this point and I find the brief conversations I’ve had with the Elf, Thuringil, enlightening. I must remember to stop staring though! This must be what it’s like when someone meets me for the first time. Much like Kollsvein, actually. I find his concept of hospitality refreshing. Though this is his first commissioned patrol, I shall do what I can to make certain that it succeeds. The merchant, Malik, is quite an amusing one. I can’t help but laugh at the interactions between him and Krylinn, a very beautiful and talented singer. I wasn’t aware that Sisters of Mercy were so skilled in other ways. While it causes Thuringil no amount of annoyance, the three seem so comfortable together that had I not known they just met I would have assumed they were long time friends.
The dwarves who joined our caravan late have yet to try and speak to any of us. Dwarves! I’ve heard of them but never expected to actually see one, let alone be accompanied by a Lord! They seem to keep to themselves, but Kryllin might be wearing them down. They certainly seem to have taken a liking to her. Maybe she could share some stories of theirs.