Dieudonnae

     It is a strange thing, to write my thoughts here, in this journal. More so for the fact that all the pages before this detail cooking techniques written in Gamlan's hand, and I am sad to say that I did indeed swipe it from him. Yet, the events of the last few days have been far from ordinary, so I should think that pardons this theft and its oddity.

All sorts of people pass through the Prancing Pony.

Twas just blind luck that brought Damric Sarrell into the tavern at the same time as a young girl called Robynwen Alden.

Daughter of Damlan.

Damric was never father material, and neither, it seems, was Damlan, who had abandoned the girl at birth.  Of course, it would be difficult to blame her father as he had only been sixteen years of age at her birth, Still a child himself.  He was frightened, and left the child in good hands; those of her mother and grandparents.

Today, it had to be today...I walked into the pub. Expecting a few drinks then return to see my love, but oh no. It didn't turn out that way. As soon as I walked in Robynwen found me, telling me that her idiotic uncle, Damric, was being attacked.

It twas a hot day on this day, the sun burning up above when I rode into Bree from a hunting trip. Once I sold all my gatherings, I saw Sir Damric (That bloody man...ugh...) with a mysterious looking man. I just couldn't help myself, I went over and immediately realized I made a mistake. If you could call it that... This man, Zurtriin he called himself, knew me somehow. But more importantly, he knew about Quincell.

     The sun had already begun to set by the time Dieudonnae, Bucta, and Hector returned to the Hughes' Estate. The vanishing sun was casting long shadows across the cobbled stone streets, and the clouds in the sky bore a distinct hue of light purple and orange. Arriving at the archway that leads up to her Manor, Dieudonnae halted the company behind her. She ordered Hector to return to overseeing the Mercenary Outpost in Andrath that she had assigned him to.