=Her journal in the three months leading up to the party’s return to Falcon’s Hollow has shown a marked increase in the use of Taldane and subsequent decrease in Tian=
Today when I was in town with the sheriff I happened to spot a scarred young man in some pretty heavy-duty armor entering Jak’s in the company of a large half-orc. When I asked the sheriff about him, he said that he was working in the cutyards, but was, if he remembered correctly, one of the people who had come with the group I’d been adventuring with. At that I was shocked, as the only person it could be was Leon… the young man was about the same build, and the armor was familiar, but something about him had seemed so different that I was just unsure. I was curious why he’d not been with them (and surprised at my having not noticed his absence in that hurricane), and why he remained in town… many questions flooded my mind, as well as the desire to know what he was doing with his life, paid for with my own death as it was.
I found myself warring with several emotions as the sheriff spoke, and I heard none of it. I was supposed to pursue a path of higher intent. Expecting something of him was beneath that level of thinking; I died and he lived, he owed me nothing; the chaos of chance decided that outcome. Still, I was incredibly curious. I decided to simply observe him; to keep an eye out for him in the future. Unfortunately, at that moment, some of Kadran’s boys went into Jak’s, and they looked like they had business on their minds. The sheriff noticed me zoning out and tapped my shoulder; he was ever vigilant, and had the same thought I’d had. We approached the inn at a leisurely pace, until Ralla Hebbradan came running out, blood on her. The sheriff was a step ahead of me through the door, if only because I jumped off of Roukan and drew my spade.
Within was chaos. Some tables were flipped already, only having 9 heartbeats pass since Kadran’s boys entered, and the half-orc was laughing maniacally, his massive flail crushing one of the assailants’ heads like a grape. I was stunned, and saw the young paladin, his axe out and glowing menacingly, standing over an already dead thug, pointing at his compatriot beside him as if to say “you’re next”. They’d entered with four, and in the short time it took us to follow, two had fallen. Leon seemed indifferent… nay, he seemed pleased to have felled the thug, and in the light, with the blood splattered up and down his scarred face, he struck a truly menacing picture. I found myself wondering if it was perhaps just how a paladin would seem when dealing with evil, but a part of me knew something else was at play, that something had changed. Nonetheless, Baleson roared that they all drop their weapons and stand down, and in that moment, when Leon looked at him, I saw a brief flicker that said “maybe I won’t”. It stole the breath from me.
His great battleaxe clattered to the floor, though, and he raised his hands. The laughing half-orc did the same, but continued to chuckle, cutting amused looks over at the paladin. I retreated outside, which in hindsight was not something I should have done, as the sheriff may have needed further assistance, but I was ill. I was sickened by the sight. I don’t think he saw me, but I hope to never see him again… sadly, as long as I remain in this town; in this region… the odds are good that I will. I shudder to picture those eyes again, that wicked scar running the length of his face. I don’t think he saw me…
=Another entry follows this particular event, several weeks later=
I received a letter today while in town, from the most curious of sources: that dreadmasque who’d been in the town with Amarro’s group (I really don’t know what else to call them). He… it’s just so bizarre to be contacted like this! One of the Black Friars had approached with the letter while Baleson and I patrolled… anyways, he needed my help, it seemed something was rising up once more in the Truescale Kobold warrens, or something like that. The inquisitor noted there was a darkness approaching; he’d received some sort of divine information or something, and he said he’d dispatched my old allies to the town to figure it out. Of course, he followed with the admission that he would likely never be able to return to the region and so trusted that I would act in his stead in this situation, as I am “the only one in that town I know to be of just bearing”. How presumptuous! As if I don’t have better things to do!
… Not that I do. I’ve been dreadfully bored, settling minor squabbles with the sheriff. I appreciate his idealism in redeeming this corrupt town, but I don’t see it. I see the Gavel at the head of something that will never change, and I feel that our efforts go continually impeded. I stated that the Gavel would need to be removed once, actually, and Baleson simply gave me a wry look and nodded.
… At any rate, I was requested to wait in town for them, and we would work from there. I’m not sure what’s going on, as I’ve heard nothing in particular, but apparently he’s been granted a brief bit of foresight. The friar who handed me the letter said he’d contacted them and given them those instructions to write down through a scrying, so it must be major. I shall wait to begin investigating until the group arrives, no sense in fouling up the trail prematurely… and it seems to be something yet to pass. Well, I shall wait… I’m excited to see them again, though. They hold a place in my heart (those that remain on a decent path, at least)… I wonder about Leon still, constantly, but I am, honestly, afraid to see him or to even ask him what’s happened. I will inform them that he’s in the area again when they arrive, at any rate. It would be easier to pry the information from him if I’m not actually the one questioning him; the only one for him to look at, his cold glare cutting right through… augh, nightmares chased that encounter, I need to consider something else. Perhaps some time training will provide a suitable distraction.