So many things have happened, and yet, so little time has passed. My progress has proved to continue slower than I had expected, for the lack of willing test subjects. Moreso, families seem reluctant to offer the corpses of their relatives, in the name of science. Most selfish of them…And yet, they expect of me to know everything…Not that I lack the knowledge. There is naught that I can do best, nor others that heal better than me. A proven fact on its own. However, there is always room for further knowledge, so many areas we know so little of. So many unknown twists and turns of the softer substance inside the skulls of people. I have yet to gain acess to an elven body as well. The most annoying and enraging fact, is the manner in which they pretend to know everything...How can they know, if they have never sought to research in the manner that we do? By test and mistake, as well as the optical aspect of things.
Apart from the work, much has changed in my life, since the last time I acquired a piece of parchment. I still have difficulty in approaching people. I have little need, or desire to explore others...There are times however, that some catch my attention. Be it idiocy or something curious, even remarkable about them. They hated me, and I in return, back at the time when they considered me crazy.
Of the first people who approached me, offered a word of respect, were the Bard-Smith Daerren. A curious fact were the resemblance in our choice of garb. Though not all of his clothing resembles mine. Differences in income as I deem it. I know him not too well, although he generally seems trustworthy, meaning no harm, and willing to offer advice.
Lady Isaura, the Hobbit. One of the people I take interest in. We seem to be sharing something in common, the will to learn new things. At first she seemed to fear me. I blame her not however; I had been acting strangely that time...Like I used to, as I knew no other way to behave. A generally friendly and welcoming Halfling, whom I happened to save once, after she were attacked by the locket thief. A lucky star shines over her.
Later I became acquainted with Varawen, a woman of flattery and cunning ways, a stranger whose voice I found annoying. She circled me, like a crow does to the victims of the war, asked questions, tried to learn my ways, Béma knows for what reason. Of course, I did not do the favour to her. The flowers on her hair and garb do not beguile me.
Sir Redwick is a man to whom I owe my life. Never had I expected to come close to such a pathetic drunkard, a simple-minded peasant. One with honor however. He would subdue to the whims of sadistic women, be it they humiliate him or damage his body, in stubborn hopes that they accept him. He has done so more than once; it is his own problem. However I shall never forget how he stood next to me, when the watcher tried to arrest me, for looking at him the wrong way, or later on, how he shot the man who tried to kill me, after I was accused of necromancy…Of all things. An honorable fool – may his life last, although I do not hold high hopes for it.
Sir Alfknutr: neither a learned man, nor a noble-born. However true in heart and wise in the ways of the rivers. A kin to me he is, as he too comes from the lands surrounding the Langflood. Much has he traveled, far and wide has he been to, and many things and people has he seen, the source of his wisdom. I like to listen to what he has to say, although both me and him regarded the other skeptically at first. To a clever man, I owe my respect, as we are a dying race.
Speaking of brightness, I believe it to be only fair to mention sir Mordridd, my latest work companion. I were left stunned the day we met, hearing to his endless chatter about myself, by merely having a look at me. An inspector, curious and well-learned, the scholarly type, despite the fact that at times he becomes nosy with his affairs. We have been working together on difficult cases, the death of a woodworker in the Archet Vale being our latest concern. An intelligent man, a rare chance for me to have a normal conversation, without having to make my words dumber for the common ear to understand.
The friend of the Elf-Knot would be lady Skjalddis Snogvurdreiki, the drake of the snow. Stronger in stature than the average female, always carrying her sword, bearing the hood of a wolf-skull. She offered to assist me, as Alfknutr asked her to. Rumours had the two heard, of people searching for me, for a grave misunderstanding regarding the keeping of my house. She offered service in guarding me. Honest and sturdy, of northern heritage, the same as me. It is pleasant to be able to speak the language amongst your own people.
A strange case seems to be lady Rykka, whom I know not very much of. She seems..strangely helpful in her own way, which I have yet to understand. She claims to be a half-orc, her blood proves that she is not f the mannish race. Therefore I am obliged to believe her. I sense however, that had she the need and the chance to trick or mislead, she would attempt so. It is known to me that I cannot rely on her, for the time being we are at peace though. I seek naught of her, and naught does she require of me. Apart from her offer to catch the monster Cuur.
People are strange creatures.
One time they offer you comforts, a good word, the next they betray you, a burning piece of steel on the back.
Despite one’s most honest effort,
They will always seek their own profit, comfort, pleasure.
Everyone caring for themselves.
This is how it all works.
