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Kearse Nofather
#1
Roy Simms Jr.




Character background for
Kearse Nofather, Priest of the Shining One





    In the beginning there was....

    So many religions use that as a preamble to their origin stories, but when it comes to a persons start in life we use the expedient of a date and place of birth, and the parents they were born to.  I do not have those, nor any clue that my genesis might be older than the day I was found.  So under the encouragement of my guiding light and at the insistence of these archivists I will begin my story in this manner-

    In the beginning there was light and song.  An ocean of light bearing me I know not where, and the gentle voice of a shining man whose warm hand soothed my brow.  The ocean may be my cradle memories or my interpretation of the womb, but time did not exist in that place.  Minutes, hours, days, years, or eons I have no way to determine how long I existed in this light; but it all ended with the first real words I can remember hearing.
“Go now into the world and know pain and suffering; for it will come upon you to be my voice of love and solace for those who have only known darkness.”  I felt the light fade from around me taking the soothing warmth that had been my only constant until that moment.

    New sensations are terrifying when you do not have the experiences to compare them against.  Cold rough ground against my skin as well as the strange pulsing sound that traveled through the earth were enough to scare the... pee out of me.  The first sight that my eyes saw was of the sunlight peering through the green leaves of a forest then, when I turned my head, the butchered corpse of a Halfling child only ten paces from me.  The light had made me feel hope, but the child brought such a deep sadness that all I wanted to do was crawl over and try to put her back together again.  I think I was about to try doing that exact thing, but the vibration in the ground grew into a thudding I could no longer ignore.  Shivering I sat up and looked around.  All about me were bodies, Halflings lay broken and bloody amidst burning carts and wagons; and there were heaps of putrescent humanoids of every shape and size.  Below me riding up the hill was a troop of soldiers with proud lances and shining garments (later that day I learned that attire is called armor).  I was naked and alone with nothing but this holy symbol about my neck, the Shining One's sun disk with its nine snaking rays.

    Captain Gray Holdthorne's mercenary cavalry force found me as a (they assumed) seven year old nameless boy amidst carnage that they had been attempting to head off.  Of course the captain and his officers questioned me, asking me such things as when and how had the undead killed the Halfling settlers, did I see any necromancers during the attack, who or what had blasted the hundreds of undead, what is my name, where are my parents, etcetera etcetera.  I don't know if I can properly convey their (and my) frustration when it came to the first words I remember answering with.  “I don't know” is the phrase of nothingness that never satisfies, it did not help the soldiers and it left me feeling useless.  Despite my inability to help them Captain Gray and most of his officers were very nice to me.

     They found clothes for me and fed me the first meal I ever had.  To this day I have a fondness for pork chops, potatoes, gravy, and corn.  Eventually they had to attend to the mysteries of their particular art so the captain remanded me to a lieutenant, who handed me off to a sergeant, then eventually to the private soldiers.  The troopers hated the duty and many of them were the type of people who would not hesitate to practice violence against even a child.  One lot of soldiers who had to share their fire with me, repeated many vile stories wherein children were made out to be an odorous burden.  There was one such sell sword who taunted me with his words over and over.
    “Hey boy, did your mom and pop throw you away cause you were a curse, are you a curse boy?”

    I was young, I was frightened, I did not understand; in order to please this gruff man and his laughing companions I answered in the affirmative.  After that everyone in camp began to call me “curse boy”, or simply “curse”.  One of the men even pushed me down and took my symbol away, that was the first time it was stolen from me; an event that has happened several times over the intervening years.  Then as now, the Shining One's symbol always returns to me in the most unexpected manner.  Captain Holdthorne was angry over my name, but when I explained to him that “Curse” was the only name I'd ever had he persuaded me to change how it was spelled.  That was how I came by the name I have used ever since, it wasn't until years later that people began to affix Nofather to my happenstance name; Kearse Nofather.

    I traveled with the Graylancers for a little over two weeks performing what chores I could while the captain searched for both the evil necromancers plaguing the region (the duty for which his band had been hired), and for the family he believed belonged to me (a duty he took upon himself due to the nature of his character).  Then his scouts brought word of an undead horde carving a path towards the more populated interior of Sedaria, the necromancers had gathered their forces together and were threatening ruin against the living world.  The Graylancers were the first force to meet this threat and begin the battle of Skirling Falls.  For a time all went well and the good captains soldiers kept the vile mob from fording the river, but without reinforcements the losses those living men and women suffered began to tell.  We knew that the priests and their forces were nearby and would arrive any minute, but the necromancers cast their dark net over the river and the fallen Graylancers rose and began to assist the forces they had once strove against.  Still the reinforcements were not to be seen.

    That was when the Shining One spoke to me again.  Under his urging I left my sheltered position and approached the line of cavalry troopers where they seemed most likely to break.  That is exactly what happened, those soldiers were swept aside and the blasphemies against nature began to cross almost unopposed.  The Shining One told me how to gather the light of the sun to myself and hurl it and slash with it.  With his aid we held the north bank until the church soldiers came and finished off the necromancers.  Unfortunately Captain Gray Holdthorne and most of his mercenary band had been killed, leaving me in the hands of strangers who talked of putting me in a nearby orphanage.  I didn't know what an orphanage was back then, but from the way they talked I knew it was not a good place.  Again I was frightened and alone, but once more his voice came to me bringing reassurance and a plan.

    The soldier who had beaten me and taken the symbol handed it back when I walked up to him.  I did not have to ask, he had seen the power that the Shining One had channeled through me and had been impressed.  So with a few coins that a few other survivors gave me I set off for the three hundred fifty mile trek to Solare.  Few people believe this part of my tale, they think it is simply impossible for a boy around the age of seven to have made that sort of journey all by themselves.  They also have a hard time crediting the fact that I was not alone, the Shining One himself guided me almost every step of the trip.  With his council and assistance I found food and replaced footwear while avoiding dangers I was not equipped to deal with.

    I was taken in by the good priests of Melwen in Solare, and received the bulk of my education under their tutelage.  For seven years I was taken care of, and many assumed I would enter their order when I reached my majority.  I tried of course, but at the age of fourteen I became convinced that none of the gods of the region were the Shining One; the being who haunted my thoughts day and night the entire time I was in that church.  My conviction was upheld when he once again spoke to me.  Under the guidance of the only god who has ever felt real to me, I left the order and went out into the world and began to spread his message.  In those days I was not well received by the people I tried to share with, since my bright master has not given me his real name and only a small handful of the truths he wants me to impart.  Every year he grants me more powers and more knowledge of his plans.

    In the early part of my ministry I was often met with derision and a lot of antagonism, even more so than what I deal with now.  I attribute that to the fact that not many people wish to hear of our heavenly overlords from a youth.  One of the first lessons I had to learn was how to deal with laughter and mockery, young boys afflicted with puberty are not designed to handle shame like that.  Hostility was also harder on me in those days, I was slighter of frame back then and unable to defend myself against those who thought doing me harm would stop my preaching.  Not many grown people take a boy armed with a broken table leg seriously, but that was the only means of defense my god allowed me at the time.  With so few willing to be receptive to the Shining One's message, you can believe that I suffered long stretches of foodlessness.  Often the only sustenance I received was from the spoiled vegetation that many people pelted me with when I would come into their towns.  I believe it is my persistence and growing body of knowledge that has modified the way I am received nowadays, add that to the number of people who have spoken of the healings he has performed through me and you can see why I feel so jubilant today.

    Over the last eleven years my efforts have generated a small following of people willing to believe in the Shining One as I do, and there are a few towns and cities that I frequent who have asked if I will ever build a church for my god.  I'm not sure about that though, the Shining One has never spoken to me about setting up a building in his honor.  He is as silent on that topic as he is about how I should deal with those few men and women who seek me out for amorous encounters instead of sage advice and the healing light I must offer to all.  I am sure he will teach me what I need to know on those topics in his own good time.

    As proof of the evolution of his intentions I should tell you of the newest message that has been imparted unto me.  As I mentioned before, most of my life I have been made to wander offering my services as a healer.  Sometimes I have even helped in the destruction of pustules of undeath or been asked to bless some farmers crops.  Those duties, along with my imperative to distribute most of the donations that have come my way to the needy has recently been curtailed.  As the Sun equals life I have now been tasked to gather monies and equipment so that I can take his fight to that which festers in the shadow.  He has taught me new spells and encouraged others to bestow arms and armor to myself so that I can accomplish this new and exciting task.  For those of you who wish to scoff at my life's endeavors, those who doubt the truth of the Sun, I ask you this: if the Shining One is a figment of my madness why have I been able to gather so much equipment in such a short amount of time?  He has made this miracle come to pass, and now I must leave you all to find the people he has promised will help me in this fight against evil.  Life comes from the sun, death dwells in the dark.  The Shining One bless all of you who flourish in his rays.

***That was Kearse, the one known as Nofather, in his own words.  Although the man himself left our order many years ago, he has become an on again off again fixture in Solare.  Often Kearse will stop by the monastery in his travels and respectfully ask to peruse our library to conduct some obscure search in our stacks, yet I myself found it heartening that he heeded the summons by the master of our scrivener order to conduct this interview.  Although I devoted myself to Melwen a decade before Kearse presented himself to the Church gates in his youth, there are many junior members who still tell tales of Kearse's many impertinences in the Churches school.  Despite the fond tales our young priests and priestess' tell of how Kearse would twist the teachers up in our doctrines, I find the man... anomalous.  True he is very respectful and quick to find the good in others and offer kindness to strangers, and I myself have enjoyed many long discourses on what it means to be 'good', he often strikes me as a man too driven.  I, myself, see the potential of greatness in the man; and with those luminous eyes and that martyrs glow he would have been a powerful soldier of the Church.  What I find unsettling is Kearse's quest on behalf of a non existent deity, his mysterious unnamed sun god.  A man of such potential should not have to crawl through the gutters and alleyways in order to relieve the plight of the poor, nor should a man such as he put himself in such a position that bad rumors from distant corners of the realm should reach us.  There are recent allegations that have come to our ears in Melwen's Church in Solare that indicates a possible prison break or escape from some form of incarceration that involves that young man.  While the details of this event are sketchy, there are some of us Scribes of Melwen who find it odd that Kearse Nofather left the city so soon after this interview.  Couple that with his new weapons and set of armor which were items he would have scorned just months ago, these rumors on his heels have many of us worried.  Though he still had his over worn boots and his threadbare (once white) tabard, the new message he revealed in his interview has me wondering at the man's sanity.  My observations aside, my master has ordered this missive is to be signed and delivered too himself, it seems as if Father Untsini is intent on scribing any future information about Kearse Nofather himself.

For Posterity and in the Name of Melwen's Grace
Father Boreleus, Scribe of the Order of Memory for the Majesty of Melwen, Solare Monestary, Sedaria.

***A note from Kearse's personal journal, written shortly after the party's recuperative stay in the Dragon Prince's palace.

That name: Urdreth....  For some reason that name triggered something in myself.  A deep response that I cannot explain, an emotion that is both utterly personal yet so very alien; and the dreams that arose, in the wake of hearing this mysterious crone's appellation, with perplexities of their own.  I will claim it is a fact that the Shining One is responsible for both my reaction and the dreams that have occurred upon my hearing Urdreth named.  The closest I can come to explaining the sensations I felt is that of vertigo, confusion, nausea and sharp realization slamming into my psyche at the same moment, yet those words I have just used do not do that feeling justice.  My pen, however, may do rightly with the two very brief dream visions that have come to me since the nomen potentiae Urdreth became known to me.  In the first flash, I saw a young woman in a flame lit room snatch up a swaddled child and flee into the night, fear so etched onto her face that even now her terror strikes me.  The oddest portion of that flash is that it seemed I was the child being plucked forth.

Within the dream that followed that night, I was an observer and I saw the same woman (with chain bound wrists) pushing her child onto anotheryoung woman.  The mother called this lady 'Urdreth' and implored her to save her son from the blade of the Justicier.  Now these things are a wonder, for the Shining One gave unto me the impression that I was the child, yet good authority claims that Urdreth's youth was spent in centuries past.  I am not centuries old, so how could this be?  It could be that the child and I are one and the same, or, more conversely, the Lord of the Morning means for me to feel such deep empathy for this child that I feel compelled to learn his story.  Either way, the answers to many of this companies questions lie with Urdreth, not only must we unearth Wishgiver's riddle from her, but also the fate of this time lost child as well. Tomorrow we may find Urdreth's hidden domicile, but tonight it seems we must deal with a forest both enchanted and capricious.

***Another Excerpt***
Well... now I know that I am the child from my visions and dreams, and that I did know Urdreth back then.  I know her now, I've known her off and on through several incarnations of myself.  It seems that a curse was placed upon my soul by the followers of Nadrek.  My spirit is bound to this reality, to repeat over and over without surcease.  This is supposed to make me weak with despair?  I saw my friends wince and cast looks of pity upon my person!  I, however, feel the conviction of the Lords of Light that this is actually a key to the downfall of evil and the minions of darkness.  I may not be able to enjoy the rewards of an afterlife, but I can... and will turn this curse into a weapon against those who cast it upon me!  Before it is forgotten I must note this:  My mother was Neuell a priestess of the Chaste Order, and my father was no less than Gavin Blackwyrme.  She died because of her forbidden love, he died destroying evil.  What better examples can a child have?

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***Another Excerpt (it seems as though Kearse Nofather never believed in dating his journal entries, nor in giving us context as to where he and his friends adventured.  This anecdote seems to have been written just after they retrieved Astrar the Hopegiver, an artifact weapon built from the shards of something the gods thought powerful.
We have so many clues and rumors, but time has not been kind to the written words of those who journeyed with the one we call Nofather)***

Our quest for Astrar almost failed, twice.  I could have messed up by trying to punish the crypt thing for his hand in slaying my mother so long ago, instead I forgave him and learned.  We had her in hand and did not pay attention to the clues, we did not break the sword free of the ziggurat with the wish she granted us.  If we had not had that magic ring with its remaining wish we would have left empty handed.  As it is we have uncovered the dark little secret of my family; the truth behind why so many people are cursed to never know the solace of an afterlife.  Urdreth, the sage in this swamp, Balian the Justiciar, Queen Airmid, myself, and... even my father bound in hell suffers from one long ago pact that he made with Kirroth.  I also know how to break this old old hex that so many souls suffer from.  So, after we free Symon's lover from the city of the dead then I will be free to head off to hell.  First I will have to learn where my father's tormented soul resides, then I will have to discover a spell or some other means to get me there and back.  A little bit of mercy and a whole lot of forgiveness will set many wrongs to the right, and I may be able to thwart some devilish plots along the way.  The Chained god and the Lord of Vengeance will learn that we Blackwyrmes belong to the Bright gods of purity and goodness, and we are not their playthings!

Queen Airmid, the Ice Queen....  Now I know why she watched me so intently in the Dragon Prince's throne room that day, and why that bothered me.  While traversing the ziggurat we came across an oasis of good, it was a pool of water in a room dedicated to the goddess of mercy.  I had been given a vision of Queen Airmid that haunted me after I awoke.  Balian the Justiciar ( the man who slew my mother and possibly the first incarnation of myself), laid it all out for me.  I will have to remind the Queen that I am her son, and inform her that the man she loved (so many incarnations ago) is bound and tormented in hell.  I believe the place I must start my research is where Kirroth, the Lord of Vengeance, has access to the layers of hell.  I feel I should know this information....

***Here is another snippet recovered from The Nofather's journal.  We believe this was written the day the party saved Edhuar vonDrayeth the reincarnation of  Elgen vonDrayeth in Shandeer, the same day Symon was accused of thieving the Circlet of Light and Shadow by the Queen of the Winter Court, Queen Mabh.  Our inquiries to the Shandeeran Courts have yielded no illumination upon the rumor that Thorfinn, Bahiyya, Symon, and the Nofather bestowed the name "Beloved Friend" upon the newborn Vondrayeth.***

What does this mean?  Why does my skin flush from cold to hot and back again as my thoughts jumble then fix as they do?  My emotions are a tumult, like hordes clashing in a war, and I have no control of any of it.  I saw her across the royal hall of the Shandeeran Monarchy and felt my interest wax, and my eye continued to return of its own volition.  All she had to do was tell me that I was the most beautiful mortal she had ever seen, and my world fell away from me.  I even fought against the continuous rush Princess Nuala invoked in me when I found out she was a daughter of the Winter court; then she spoke to me and my pretend resentment fell away like all lies must.

Is this what the people who threw themselves at me felt?  All those boys and girls, men and women who tried to kiss me or disrobed before me when they were trying to entice me towards sexual pleasure, was this thrill coursing through them?   No, it could not be that sensation they felt.  It was the voice of the Shining One himself who told me to look into those peoples eyes and read what was behind their efforts.  With his aid I saw the... avarice behind their desire.  Those people wanted to possess me or be possessed by me, they sought only the pleasure of the moment and did not see me as a fellow living being.  I'm sure my emotions and my service to the Morning Lord would have created resentment in many of those people, after they had slacked that which had motivated them to try to consummate their itch with me.

Now I pray to my GOD and I hear not His voice.  With the welter of emotions buzzing around me I almost feel as if I have lost a protection.  Why does HE not speak to me on this matter?  Where is His guidance, where is His warning?  I might be able to deal with this if He warned me away from Nuala, but in this He has become just as silent as He was when I asked Him what his teachings should be about love and sexuality.  I am left to wonder if this is a test.  All the Powers on high test their servants, this is a well established fact, but I am left to wonder what will happen to the Shining Ones faith if I fail.  Who will seek his name if not me, who will praise him under his own light if not for me, who will prosecute his war with the shadow if I am found wanting?

Maybe I am thinking wrong even in this.  This may just be a lesson He means me to undergo, I may learn that the Princess Nuala is not as special as I feel she is.  I may learn that she is not the sort who can love a man who is already devoted to a cause....  I was about to put pen to paper and ponder if she is merely meant to be a dalliance, a reward for services I have rendered, but every fiber of my being instantly rebelled.  Was that myself or His warning?  I felt as though it may have been a bit of both, His voice and my mind repudiating that concept outright, but I also have to wonder if it were not these emotions trying to take me over that spoke thus.  All I can do is pray and continue to conduct myself with the lessons the Shining One has already taught me.  I will continue to love all without selfishness, revel in and proclaim the glory of His unknown name, and pray for his guidance.

Please, do not let my hopes to see more of Princess Nuala bring harm to my faith or to the Princess herself.  What I would give to know how she feels and thinks..., that knowledge could possibly temper these inner tempests....

***We are using our best spells to recover what information we can, but I fear that we are coming to the end of what information we can glean from this ruined Sendarin archive that had once been dedicated to Melwen.  We have enough clues to take us from these burned out ruins and search the old palace of Prince Dharm, the palace where the descendants of the Ice Queen yet live, or make more inquiries with the Shandeeran court(s).  This clue that the Nofather may have loved this Princess Nuala may curtail many of the debates that rage within our ranks.***

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***More shards of information!  Although there are a few of our Brethren of the Sun who doubt if this rotten chronicle found in a southern Sendarin inn actually belongs to the Nofather, it is a clue and it does invoke his name.  What provokes doubt is the difference in penmanship with this newer narrative.  The widow who brought the diary's remains to us claims that the original grew old and a scribe was paid by her family to reproduce the original.  Why she did not volunteer this information to us without prompting has done little for many to show faith in this missive***

...Mishapen giants lair had many bones, some of which proved to be of human or humanoid genesis.  My hope is that my humble prayers did not offend the spirits of those whose remains we cleared from the cave.  Even after cleaning the Fomorian's cavern the stench was near enough to keep sleep from coming over me, tired as I was.  Cleaning the new magical crossbow the others are letting me use did not consume too much time, so I thought to polish the plethora of gems we had found.  I fell asleep pondering the rope of entanglement we also unearthed.  After the Shining One's feast had been consumed I think we were all glad to depart those caves and seek out our trail through Shandeer again.  I'm afraid I may have offended Bahiyya with my ignorance of her land, from youth I had been fed tales of enchanted lands where trails wandered away on their own, and trees that talked one to another in languages long forgotten....
***Water damage seems to have deprived us of at least half a page of script, but we believe where the manuscript resumes it is on the same day***
....I do not believe my friends believed me when I told them that I had heard rock banging upon rock above us, however my paranoia made them more aware of our surroundings.  When we rounded a switchback climbing the hill we found a hydra of astounding size and color blocking our path.  Not only did the beast have twelve heads, but the thing also breathed fire and healed at an incredibly fast pace.  Symon claims that two heads would have grown had we severed but one, a theory I'm glad we did not have to....
***From here we have lost several days worth of pages due to the diary's improper storage.****

....Symon said that not only was his game board magical but he himself was surrounded by a nimbus of magic his eyes could not penetrate.  I just knew with a growing certainty that the game he was playing against Bahiyya... their playing pieces were souls of living people.  Those people were dying based upon the moves of their controllers, and based upon his description of the pieces I thought I knew with certainty that they were people we knew and loved.  I thought he was tricking Bahiyya into killing Princess Nuala whom I miss with a poignancy I have never felt before.  I had to stop it!  I rose and gathered a light spell to threaten the man with.  How was I to know that he would reveal himself as Gurthen, the death god who gathers those whose time has elapsed...?
****If this excerpt is to be believed, then Kearse Nofather and his friends faced a death god as they were in the midst of preparing for their adventures within Morde, the city of the dead.
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I only have a few minutes before we load onto the life boat and row over from the Acacia.  All this time I was considering myself lucky for how well I took to ocean travel, I never thought we would come across an abandoned merchant ship floating in our path.  I feel the stir of curiosity wanting to know what happened, but i also have a sense of foreboding.  I feel like violence is about to befall us....  Oh, they are calling me.  It is time to row across now....
**** These next excerpt from Kearse's journals have been the most complete we have found in a few years.  We even have one date attached to help us pinpoint these anecdotes within a known time frame.  We now know he and his friends took one of their ocean voyages in this time frame, something we did not know before.

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The Alexandria had been a slaver ship.  We found no crew and no boats, but the wheel was lashed in place and the anchor had been dropped... there was no way that the entire crew could have been taken away on that ships longboats alone, which means many trips or they were taken by another vessel.  They left three slaves in the hold to die of thirst, and the galley had rotten food sitting at the tables.  The Alexandrias crew has probably been gone for about a week.  Bahiyya wants to pass something along to us in the privacy of our own berth, I wonder what she wants to say or show us....

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The storm killed 11 crew and forced our ship, The Acacia, to turn back.  I myself have never felt so helpless while we were tossed about in our quarters, all I could do was pray and wonder how long it would take the Princess Nuala to forget I had ever existed if we died.  We have had so little time together, not enough time for us to have generated any history, or those shared moments that make a foundation for future moments together.  I was never so happy in my life when we all decided to leave our stateroom and go below.  The ability to do anything was better for my well being than huddling in helplessness.  I felt like the Shining One was smiling too when I became an active participant in our survival, so this is another tenant of his faith that has been revealed.  Strive for your salvation, idle hands in the face of danger does not capture a gods attention!  Poring over the mysteries of Bahiyya's finds was not enough in themselves to occupy us while the storm raged.  Her maps, coded book, and foreign looking religious statuette definitely captured my imagination, but their mystery paled before the storms fury....

...We have been several days ashore as The Acacia is affecting repairs and hiring new crew.  Captain Bartholomew lost the custom of two of the merchants who had sailed with us initially.  What surprised me was the sales pitch he cast at our group.  He asked us if we would purchase what he called a super cargo, the staple of trade goods that would refill his hold... and according to him, pay us great dividends when he used his contacts to sell our goods.  On the initial voyage, the one that had to turn about, we gave and gave to the ship and crew to the point the Captain thought it prudent to offer our fees back.  I have been used often enough by those who mistake my giving nature as gullibility....  No belay that (to borrow nautical terms), in my youth I was gullible enough that I suffered at the hands of users and con artists.  I saw the same opportunism sparking in Captain Bartholomew's eyes to wonder if he was not trying to take advantage of us.  Uncharacteristically of my comrades they were all charging ahead and agreeing to buy said super cargo.  I could not allow myself to blindly follow my friends, the people who have taught me so much about the dangerous life we lead.  I had to demur and test The Acacia's master.   He so readily agreed to a partnership in his venture that even I grew more suspicious so I used the leverage he had handed us and forced Captain Bartholomew to make us ten percent share holders of The Acacia.  A Captain looses capital when he or she takes on partners, a ship can only carry so much and that limits the amount of profit a ship takes.  Only after he put himself at our mercy was I sufficiently mollified enough to agree to the venture.  Not only did I wring more profit for my friends and I, I also added a buy out clause to Captain Bartholomew so he can buy himself out from under the obligation he put himself under.  I would not want to disenfranchise the man the freedom of his ship that undoubtedly lead him to a life at sea.  I wonder what Nuala would think of me sullying my hands with business dealings like a common factor?

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....[m]onth of Kemen, we have spent nearly two weeks repairing, outfitting, stocking, and hiring crew for the Acacia.  I should say we have paid our share in those activities so Captain Bartholomew can expedite those activities.  Oleg freed himself of his obligations to his last employer just to come sail with us again.  He may not be a guild member, but the captain says he will give Oleg a leg up to join the guild after our voyage.  Connel is also an unguilded sailor, but he too has an offer for sponsorship from Acacia's captain.  Our major job has been purchasing lots of cargo to sail north with us.  Trader Lyrlord has gifted us with advice that has kept us from buying lots that do not travel well and have a greater than normal chance of showing a profit, the unfortunate side effect of his advice is that our lots are not sizable.  In a weeks time we have barely filled a fifth of the cargo space allotted to us, they measure it in tuns and we have only filled 120 tuns of the 551.625 tuns of free space.  We have passed up many sizable lots that could have filled that space....

****For once we believe the same as the "mortalists".  Kearse could not have given up time adventuring to study the sordid arts of the merchant.  We believe this excerpt was inserted by blasphemers seeking to throw doubt into those who follow the Sun's course.****

...(de)cided to take one more day to fill the hold.  That day would have been perfect for us to set our sail and depart, but the next six days proved to tempestuous for us to depart....  ill with scurvy, so I was summoned to cure his woe.  Afterwords we let the man rest up while educating him upon proper dietary habits....  vermin and spoilage, this after selling some of the provender to that lost merchantman....

**** This seems to be what remains of several days of entries.  they seem to tell a tale of many hardships.****

...I thought losing Lylord would be the greatest shock of this voyage, then we sailed into the wreckage of the elven ship.  Bahiyya learned that her father had died and I...  I lost Nuala.  My senses are all off, my brain is skewed.  When I pray now I feel as if I am praying to myself, the voice that talks back is clearly my own....

...All these voices calling to me for help, and I have become as small as those seed beings who resort to praying for help....

...Just these six ships survived the sinking of Gora, and while each life is precious so precious few of the survivors are Goran.  I fear that evil has shorn the world of an entire race and the culture it developed.  I prayed that we would find some Goran ships in the days after the disaster but so far it has just been our ships to be seen....
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#2
The Nofather Heresy
(excerpts from "A rebuttle to the Sun Worshippers" by Cannea Whisp.)



...  As further proof that this so called religion is based off of falsehood let me direct you to the priest's own Journals.  The first three journals that Kearse wrote deal with a fictional accounting of the world that never happened.  How are we to actually believe that the island nation of Gora sank and a diplomatic delegation from Shandeer had been brutally murdered.  This charlatan actually claims that Queen Nuala was killed in her youth by agents of the Scarred Hand and further asserts to have suffered a grief that almost sundered his mind.  All this after his claims to a relationship with Her Majesty that she has no memory of, she barely remembers a brief flirtation with the man.

Those who are foolish enough to believe that this human is more than what he claims always point to the narrative about Agode's Tower.  This fiction assures us that a divergent time line was created when they adventured within a space held outside of time that was shaped as a tower.  Kearse claims he and his friends did battle with a time tyrant and raised Brandt's queen from death.  We are supposed to believe that the queen later died giving birth to a Brandti prince who had not existed in their time.  This prince grew up to be a brilliant military leader who prevented much of the "woes" that afflicted Kearse Nofather's fictional "reality".  His followers cry miracle.  We cry balderdash....

       
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