From the Journal of Ouroboros
My journey begins, and so does this journal. I have been given this blank tome from one of the merchants traveling with me in a caravan toward the capital, and with what little free time I can muster, I will keep a record of my adventures. I do not know for whom. I do not deign to believe that my travels will one day be as famous as that of Juno, the ancient sorceress. If nothing else, I hope that this book will serve as a repository for the many thoughts encountered on what will assuredly be a strange adventure.
After the strange and troubling disappearance of Meros, and most of his belongings, Lahktar suggested that we should set out into the world and see if we can find him. For once, I found myself agreeing with the overgrown lizard. Meros left no word behind, gave us no clue that I could decipher. It is possible that this is simply Meros’ way of letting us know that our apprenticeship is complete, but that seems awfully abrupt. Perhaps this is for the best; maybe he is letting us leave the nest unassisted, and it is time to see if we will fly or fall. Fair enough, if that’s the case. Nevertheless, I’m just as curious as the Dragonborn as to what has happened to our master.
Lahktar and I joined a refugee caravan heading to the capital city. Hearing that we were trained in the use of magic, they happily accepted us into their fold. We were not the only ones they had collected upon the way. Towering about the mass of refugees was a woman who had to have been seven foot tall with her back to me. Perhaps she was half-ogre, or had been the victim of an magical prank? But then she turned around and I saw that it was not a giant, but rather a halfling riding upon the shoulders of a human, both female. Lahktar ran up to introduce us, proving once again why I bother to travel with the loud-mouthed buffoon. The halfling called herself Beezra, and the human was named Hilde. I retired to one of the caravan wagons and let the lizard keep blabbering away at his new found “friends”. I really rather pitied them, but better them than me, especially after having to listen to him almost non-stop for well over a decade.
We camped just off the road. The displaced peasants, fleeing from the undead hordes, were so grateful for our protection they gave us their only meat to cook. We sat around the fire, and Lahktar began to play. He does have a talent in that. The oaf couldn’t get any magic right, but I must admit he is quite the musician. As as group relaxed around the campfire, I heard rustling out in the darkness. Peering out, I spotted a small hoard of shambling undead heading straight for our caravan, no doubt attracted by the light, the music, the meat and the wagons.
The undead do not negotiate, and thus I leapt to my feet and fired a bolt of energy at the leading corpse. To get the right angle, I had to shoot immediately above the halfling’s head, who did not seem pleased with my actions. The rest of the group quickly caught on, and we met the foe head on. The barbarian woman seemed annoyed that I was not charging into the fray, but I care little whether I am looked upon with honor by some backward hunter-gather. The front ranks broke and let a few reanimated swarmed toward me. One of them even managed to actually hit me. The feel of its cold, stiff fingers clawing at me is one that I would rather like to forget, but I doubt I will.
I am pleased to say that we won the battle, and that I acquitted myself rather well. Five of the corpses were put back to rest by my wand. Even the barbarian had to admit that I was effective, if not valorous. I will heartily accept that; valor is but another name for foolishness and lack of strategy. I found a wand on one of the corpses; from the runes on it, it appears that it acts as a kind of foci for the focused will blasts that I have learned to harness.
We will arrive at the capital soon. Whether it be luck, fate or the intercession of Ioun, it seems that I have found capable companions to help me find Meros. And, perhaps, something else. The Tower. The one I read about so often in Meros’ library. I dream about it, often. I dreamt of it again last night. It calls to me, gentle as a lover in a great romance and as powerful as a raging spellstorm. In my dream I carried multicolored stones, and without these I could not enter. I believe this is a sign, that without the aid of companions my quest is doomed to failure.
When we reach the capital, I will seek an audience with al-Hiraj. The last time I met that ancient wizard, I had unsettling dreams for a week. However, he may know more of Meros’ whereabouts, and he may know something of the Tower. Perhaps I should warn my new traveling companions what kind of being al-Hiraj is, though I doubt any amount of preparation would be sufficient to not be shaken.