Letter to Caedmon, 25th Sehanine

25^th Sehanine [mailed from Dranseri on 7^thAuril]

My Beloved Friend,

Greetings from Nari Lana! I write from the secluded Village of the Genasi on the coast of the Dagger Sea. We’re now just two days from Dranseri, where at the first opportunity I will send this letter to your lodgings in Emorhin. My heart is heavy that I will miss you in Dranseri, but it’ll be good be able to share my thoughts and feelings more fully with you again through these scribblings. I must become better at condensing what I want to tell you into twenty words—so far, I always end up feeling like I’ve wasted my reply to you. Which isn’t to say that your message spell isn’t a godsend. You will laugh to think how much I look forward to your magical thought messages—when we are apart, they are manna to my soul.

I could go on, but I’m sure you’d like to hear about our recent adventures first. You’ll be delighted to hear that we’ve accomplished our purpose. The mystic book that we set out to retrieve is safely in our hands—Corellon willing, it will enable the Pansophical arcanists to restore poor Travis to the land of the living! It was no easy task to procure this text from the Tomb of the Crossed Words— to do so, the party had to overcome multiple challenges, both intellectual and physical. I lost count of the number of riddles we solved to gain access to the library, then we had to fight a terrible undead creature named Rufus Setter to obtain the keystone and the object of our quest.

Although the adversaries we encounter seem to grow daily more fearsome, I hope you will not worry too much for my safety. With experience and regular practice, my companions and I are becoming increasingly skilled in the use of our various abilities. Tilia (my firbolg friend and fellow student of druidcraft) recently gave me a magical staff that she had previously entrusted to our former companion Agenar. Dagon’s Reach, as it is called, is a weapon of singular beauty; the staff culminates in an amethyst crystal surrounded by three tentacles that writhe as if they belonged to some denizen of the deep! The first time I held the staff, I was reminded of the giant cuttlefish I used to play with off the coast of Talpin—it seemed to throb in my hands like a living creature. While I am quickly becoming acquainted with the staff’s properties, I also feel far more confident about my water magic. Before, I had to concentrate intently to summon water and shape it to my will; now, I can unleash the force of a colossal wave with the same effort.

But fear not, Caedmon, that I will be corrupted by greed for increasing magical power. I know that you were shocked to hear of our party’s violent exploits in Dranseri, but I hope that the precious days we had together in the city reassured you that I am still your own Teal—flawed in some (many?) respects but tender-hearted as ever! No: now, as before, I care little for the glory of battle. Far more alluring to me is the siren-song of tranquility, clearly discernible in the gentle lapping of waves on this austere, rocky shore.   

It is strange to feel so quickly at home in a place I’ve never been. Is it the proximity to this awe-inspiring inland sea, the natural beauty of the surroundings, or simply the pleasure of encountering so many other people like myself in the same place? For the first time, I am just one of many rather than an oddity, or worse, a freak. It was indeed a sight to behold: genasi of water, fire, earth, air, and other elemental phases sharing a communal meal, a striking metaphor for balance in nature. Seeing such diverse elemental beings living peacefully with each other and the environment, I couldn’t help wonder whether I belonged here. With people who instantly recognize my kinship with them, and who use their innate gifts to cultivate a simple life in harmony with the natural world. (Speaking of the simple life, I was thoroughly humbled by the reminder that even as I progress in spell-casting, I’ve fallen sorely out of practice in my former crafts: as evidenced by my spectacular failure to demonstrate spearfishing to a friendly fisher-woman this afternoon.)

If I allowed myself to fantasize about quiet domesticity by the Dagger Sea, the daydream vanished as soon as I remembered your words to me on that magical evening in the Seaward region: “You always carry your home with you.” And the whole reason why—in spite of how our feelings for each other—we cannot be together for now. No, you would never be content to rest (or rust?) in secluded tranquility—and without you, neither could I. I must see the Aramentè through, to be worthy of your aspirations and my own ideals.

Thus, I quickly determined that life in the Genasi Village was not for me; moreover, conversing with members of this exemplary commune (there are about forty or fifty genasi) quickly made me realize the fragility of the microcosm they have built. Even with the best efforts of the village’s wise woman, an Air Ashari druid named Martha—and the elemental powers of the genasi themselves—crops are mysteriously failing, fish are dying, and weather patterns going awry. Such harmony as they have attained is not sustainable, it seems, without engagement with the larger forces troubling the realm. 

Tilia and I had a good conversation with Martha, who gave our firbolg friend some useful clues for finding her tribe. At first, Martha’s remarks to me regarding the nature of Aramentè seemed rather cryptic, but upon further reflection, I believe her advice to be full of wisdom. Looking me kindly in the eyes, she asked, “Who do you follow in life?” For a moment, I was lost for words, then I spoke of my secular upbringing, explaining that I was not raised to worship any particular deity. Of course, I did think of and mention you—how you had always inspired me to love the good and the beautiful through your being and your art.

Yes, it is true, my beloved friend—and truer than ever since our first kiss—your image is never far from me, strengthening my purpose by day and enchanting my dreams by night! Yet Martha’s question also made me reflect long and hard about the party of friends that I have literally been following in recent months. Truly, who do I follow?

Who are these people and are they leading me in paths that bring me closer to the heart of my Aramentè? I confess that, since you expressed concerns about my friends, I could not help but notice the truth of your criticism—in particular, their love of battle and casual attitude towards the use of force. While Travis was perhaps overly friendly and trusting, most of the party tends to be constantly on edge and prone to violence. Sadly, this was demonstrated yet again by an encounter we had with a mountain tribe on our way to the Genasi Village. Believing the tribe’s intentions to be hostile, some of us were swift to retaliate with force, and a battle ensued in spite of my efforts to urge more peaceful solutions. The frightening thing is that our predilection for fighting almost seems contagious. For instance: during the fight, I was taken aback when even Ari—a studious and eminently intelligent Pansophical fielder who accompanies us—lashed out against the mountain people, looking up from the tome she was studying to unleash a flurry of potent magic missiles against our unhappy foes.

With this disturbing example in mind, I can better understand your concern over the company I keep. Is there a danger that the party’s casual attitude towards violence will eventually (if it hasn’t already begun to) infect me? I feel bad saying this, but sometimes I question whether my friends are really the best people to guide me on the Aramentè. As individuals, there is no doubt that they are the worthiest of friends, but as a group, what have we accomplished? It is true that we’ve overcome remarkable odds on several occasions (including, hopefully, this one) to save each other—but each time (Tilia’s arm and now, Travis’s death), we played a significant role in creating the problem in the first place.

Were Agenar and Wynlynn right to quit the party? Sorry—here I am going on like this and I don’t even know if you remember everyone. Pantaghion is the strikingly handsome half-elf paladin—you may recall me asking you if you could contact his father with your sending spell. He is a brave and passionate soul but also seems very easily distracted—to lack a clear sense of purpose. Val is a larger-than-life personality, an elven warrior who would risk her life to protect any of us, yet in spite of her bravado, I sense she is hurting deep inside: infernal flames, as it were, burn deep within, threatening to consume her. And I recognize this because the same tendency towards excess haunts me, too (as you well know). How often have I uttered the words of ancient scripture: “Save me, O God! I am come into deep waters, where the floods overflow me.” 

Tilia stands out as a beacon of calming light amidst the trials we’ve encountered: how we’ve come to rely on her uncanny wisdom and perceptiveness! I had great hopes that we would support each other on the Aramentè even as we helped our companions on their individual journeys. Recently, however, she has grown increasingly solitary and withdrawn: she says nothing but I suspect that the erosion of our party has taken a toll on her. As for our fallen comrade, I miss Travis’s kindly ways and quirky sense of humor more than ever. Nevertheless, his affiliation with the Pansophical makes me uneasy. I just don’t trust their systematizing worldview. The pitfalls of their path to knowledge are well summarized by the poet whose divine words you’ve often recited to me:

Fear not, Caedmon, that I am becoming excessively critical of and disloyal to my comrades. I have every intention of staying true to them—and for now, it feels important to try to accomplish several things together, if we can: restore Travis; find, or determine the fate of, Tilia’s tribe; and unravel the mystery of Pantaghion’s missing father. It seems as if we may be close to succeeding at the first task—and the clues we’ve recently discovered here and in Dranseri may help us with the remaining two.

And then what? If I live, my dearest friend, perhaps then, I could join you and pursue my Aramentè by bringing music to various communities in the realm. If the Aramentè is meant to be a journey of self-discovery, I might learn more from entertaining and conversing with people than from fighting them!

I can almost see your wry smile—you suspect that it is my passion, not my intellect, speaking as usual. What can I say? Is my heart not an open book to you, now as always? Of course, you are right. When it comes to you, it is impossible for me to be cool and rational: no more possible than it is for water to flow back into the vessel from which it is poured. The overpowering delight of our last night together in Dranseri is still vividly present with me. What strange draught is love, that it quenches not this soul-thirsting but instead intensifies it? It frightens me, the urgency of my desire, this visceral hunger for your scent, your touch, your presence.

Sometimes, I think it would have been easier for me if I had inherited a bit more of the cold, impassive temperament traditionally attributed to merfolk. Surely the stony heart of a mythical siren would not suffer the purgatorial flames that engulf mine now! But then I remember the delicious pressure of your lips, the ecstasy of your skin gliding gently against mine, and I wouldn’t exchange the complete experience of our love for the world.

On that fervent note, with the sun descending into the Dagger Sea, I must leave you for now, my dearest one. My companions are rightly anxious to be on their way, for we are still a good way off from Dranseri—and the fate of our fallen friend still hangs in balance.

I send you all the feeling that words can convey—may your music bring as much joy to Emorhin as it did Dranseri, even in these unsettled times!

Affectionately yours,

Teal