Aallan

So I picked up an empty book today to start a diary, I needed somewhere to put my thoughts. This entry will be quite long as there is a lot to write about and I will be shortening most of the stories.

The Massacre:

Is it possible to gloss over horror and wickedness, with something so simple as love? Can grace or forgiveness or compassion or any other kind thing, somehow blanket these dark stains, without ever truly dealing with them, to a point where you can simply step over them and pretend they no longer exist? It seems as though that is what people are trying to do right now. And I want it to work. I want the smiles and jests and hugs and well-wishes to make everything better, to erase the cloud that hovers over me. To help me forget. 

But it isn't working.

I had traveled to Bree for the first time ever since Agreis passed away. Unfortunately, I had missed quite a bit. I suppose I should start.

I went to the Pony and ordered myself a red wine, something that had been so normal for me to do. I made to the fireplace and stood by this one woman. She did not give her name even though I had introduced mine, though I didn't want to pry. We were soon interrupted by this one jerk. I swear, I don't think anyone had made me as annoyed as him ever since my former uncle in the Umaarah side, Inglen.

(Tears could be seen as stained all throughout the parchment)

You really don't know what it's like to have a huge part of your life and your heart just ripped out of you until you experience it yourself. I really wished that there was no such thing as nobles in this world... If they didn't, Agreis would've been still alive. Do I blame Raven for what had happened to him because of him being captured? Or do I blame the one that had caused Agreis to die in the first place? I suppose I should explain how things were first.

Once inside the tomb of Maenadar, Aallan could only see the band of brigands, accompanied by the robed man.   Each twist and turn, the halls grew darker and fouler with the stench of decaying flesh.  Footsteps could always be heard ahead, mixed with hushed chatter between the armed thugs.  Minutes passed, as this manner continued, as there was no sight of walking dead, or even malignant spirits lurking about.  At last, the evil folk arrived to a second stone door, before the man in robes set his hand on it, lowering the door to deeper into the tomb.

Aallan, mounting his steed Longfellow, held the parchment with an odd seal: a white hand with a red eye in the palm.  He let out a sigh through his nose, as he recounted the conversation he had with the elf maiden Cesistya just a while before, starting the journey outside of Bree-town.  Thirty minutes of riding off the roads passed him by, bringing him to the pass into a hilly valley, almost devoid of animal life, with the exception of an occasional scavenger.  

My word... This...day was exceptionally long. And difficult... Long in general.

It started out... Well, I wouldn't say a normal every day thing. It started out as slightly troubling. This one man that looked like Raven, but older, stepped into the inn. He was going off about something like Raven was missing. Truth be told, I honestly didn't think too much of it. I mean, seeing as how the last time we spoke, it didn't go smoothly.

Rizan had made his way to the Pony though for some reason, something told him to go to the back of the inn. He had done so and in result, he had found Bambidal.

"Are you alright?" asked Bambidal.

"You they' stop tha' elf!" came a voice behind him.

"I didn't...," said Bambidal, looking at Rizan. "I didn't I swear... I couldn't have..." She looked at the group behind him. "Raven...was stabbed."

She looked at the knife in her hand.