Temporary Notes

Great-aunt Thessalie taught me a lot. Like so much, you have no idea. She said she saw a spark in me, and that's why she asked the Temple to hire me to be her "companion" when she got too old to run the hospital wing anymore. Let me tell you, just because she started having trouble walking quickly and her hands didn't have the grip to use a mortar and pestle anymore didn't mean there was anything wrong with her mind. The magic of Mishakal was too strong in her for her mind to ever get weak. At least, that's what I think. Before I ever came to run her errands and help her get dressed and be her hands, she'd already had Adventures and been a diplomat and a trader and an advisor and healer to the King of Rhoanor and ran the entire hospital wing of the largest Temple to Mishakal in all the human lands. She told the best stories. She told me that she saved my grandfather Eldon, her older brother, from the possession (she never would say exactly from what) and d...

“There were once a people who called themselves the Dwarvenkind. They were not a tall folk, though they were stout and strong and hardy. Known far and wide for their metal craft and stone lore, they came down from high in the mountains to trade unbreakable weapons and delicately carved stone animals. But though they came down from high in the mountains, that is not where they made their homes. No! They lived beneath the mountain. It was only an outpost high and away on a steep cliff to guard an entry point and an airshaft leading to their tunnels.” Mr. Agosto paused to sip his tea. The small girl child seated on the rug before his rocking chair stared up at him with wide, brown eyes and lips parted in anticipation.   “Such tunnels! Made from stone cut so precisely even you could not fit your tiniest finger into a gap between them. The arched ceilings bore beams of dark, porous stone cultivated with a glowing moss to give the only light needed by the sensitive eyes of the Dwarve...