32 of Mais, Year of 1215
Upon this day, despite the departure of some souls from this mortal realm, I adhered to my given instructions and observed what Keeper Bisha declares a "day off." For several months, I grappled with this infernal idleness, traversing the morgue until my esteemed superior banished me from the premises. I then wandered the Necropolis, tending to the graves and sanctifying the grounds as necessary—yet even this, Keeper Bisha forbade on my designated respite, instructing that I should not set foot in the Necropolis on my day of rest, lest I incur the disfavor of the most benevolent Lotrad. Distressed, I was directed to seek out a pursuit known as a "hobby."
Unfamiliar with this term, I sought enlightenment at the university, where I chanced upon an Elvish compendium of common lexicon. According to its pages, a hobby signifies an avocation pursued aside from one's principal occupation. Ergo, Keeper Bisha impelled me to seek an ancillary pursuit to complement my duties as a Keeper. This proved to be a conundrum indeed, as I pondered over auxiliary vocations that had not yet fallen under my purview. I have delved into the sacred arts of necromancy, engaged in many pathology courses, and even conducted three public autopsies at the university. I am well-versed in the bi-annual circulation, 'Necromancer Now!', and have perused numerous treatises on medicine, the forensic sciences, and embalming. What further supplemental occupations am I to undertake? (Keeper Bisha once gifted me a book on humor to broaden my perspective. I fail to discern its utility, though I must admit contentment with my slight wordplay.)
Initially, I contemplated engaging in the martial arts. However, such pursuits conflict with the teachings of Lotrad. I have extensively studied monographs on weaponry and wound patterns and am adept at discerning their nuances. There remains no exigency for further exploration. Moreover, I am conversant in the apothecary arts; hence, it seems implausible that Keeper Bisha intended for me to delve deeper into the realm of poisons beyond identification and their effects on the mortal form.
The epiphany struck amidst an autopsy of a young Nezumi woman, a victim of stimulant overdose. It occurred to me then, my long-held confusion about the allure of such substances and their influence on illicit markets and the shadowy subcultures within our city. This, then, became my newfound pursuit—a perfect complement to my role as a Keeper. Understanding the effects, production, societal impact, and the ethos of recreational medicamenta became my leisure occupation.
Henceforth, I initiated my exploration and established contact with Captain Hollow, a respected figure in the Rattlestone community. He possesses a generous disposition, albeit his credibility falters with tales of the sea, often intermingling nautical terms erroneously. Everyone knows the Maren Sea is impassable due to monsoons from the months of Saxtil to Nundinus, yet he regales of voyages through the Strait of Bocca during such times. Despite my internal vexation, I restrain myself, for Keeper Bisha admonishes against pointing out errors unless they portend actual peril. Yet, this proves arduous, and I often find myself suppressing retorts until my tongue bleeds. Is it truly commonplace to let such fallacies persist unchallenged?
I commence my studies with the smallest of doses. Gradually, I increase the quantity to attain therapeutic effects, meticulously documenting the outcomes. Additionally, I engage in conversations with fellow medicamenta enthusiasts to expand my understanding beyond the confines of the Elvish anatomy and its peculiarities.
After thorough experimentation with both Dragon's Dandruff and Wondercaps, my latest shipment contains these two in bulk, alongside the customary Elvish teas I always procure. Calamity! While I delight in offering Amaiur Eillar a canister of the coveted Rapsana Blend to help soothe his troubles, my melancholia arises from the surplus of substances I have extensively documented.
With ample time left in my day, an idea strikes me—why not combine the Dandruff and Wonder to explore potential complementary effects? Typically, Wondercaps metabolize in 15-30 minutes, whereas Dragon’s Dandruff unveils itself within mere seconds. Yet, after 45 minutes, I remain ever myself. Consequently, I have already indulged in a second dose of Sugar Wonder Puffs.
One hour has elapsed, and while the inhabitants of this place appear increasingly peculiar, I find myself unaffected, save for a most profound sense of comfort in this very chair. I imbibe a third.
Now, an hour and five minutes have passed, yet I remain untouched by any discernible effects. However, in the realm of Lotrad's embrace, where love reigns supreme and knows no bounds, as a Keeper I too am an embodiment of love. Amid the curious congregation of animal figures and animated objects at the Wandering Gull and the transient nature of existence filled with its inherent tribulations, a realization dawns upon me—we are all interconnected as One. And in that unity lies the essence of Love.
Observing the empty plate before me, which once held seven Sugar Wonder Puffs, I am confounded. Did I place seven upon it after consuming three, or did I initially arrange seven only to reduce the number thereafter? Such ponderings, however, hold little significance in the grand tapestry of life, where Love and Death intertwine in a harmonious embrace. Such eloquence! Such painfully sublime sublimity! The Revelation of Lotrad beckons where light and darkness are one and it is in the between that life exists, unfolding and folding once again to the spaces beyond where everything is One.
A sword of light cuts through the room, resembling the most genteel Tor'in. Yet, as swiftly as he appeared, the sword averts his gaze, pretending a lack of awareness—an occurrence familiar to me as many people fail to discern it is my disposition that is wanting, not my visual acuity nor my awareness of my surroundings. Never have I witnessed a sword retreat in such a manner. Fascinating. Nevertheless, my immediate concern lies in sharing glad tidings with Tor’in. Further details shall follow in due course.
1st of Iunius, Year of 1215
On this day, a most curious case came to the morgue, presenting an enigma even to my seasoned expertise in death’s many forms. Indeed, Keeper Bisha deemed it necessary to guide me through the handling of such a corpse as there are numerous safety measures to consider. The poor young man in question was a human by the name of Niman Agerson. Master Agerson suffered acute Arcstone poisoning, a rarity for one not a Magewright. Instead, the victim—for what else to call someone of such extensive poisoning whether by his own or another’s design—held a scholarship sponsored by House Fournius at the university. The arrangement of his organs in mirror image with the myocardium and ventriculus on the dexter lateral must have been painful and may well be the cause of death. (Unless he was a rarity born thus, but this I have never seen.) I suspect that the victim, from Seidland with no kin in our city, found himself the pawn of the affluent who so often consider themselves above moral constraints.
Despite Master Agerson's solitary presence in this city, he finds an advocate in me, for I too suffer the vulnerability of those bereft of kin. Though I could not prevent his untimely end, I am resolute in ensuring his soul finds justice and tranquility in Lotrad’s embrace. While this is my conviction and obligation regardless, the plight of this lost soul strikes me acutely, urging me to go beyond conventional inquiries and seek answers firsthand.
My first inclination leaned towards Rubin, my oldest and dearest friend, who despite frequent naïveté and a meek disposition, is a capable investigator. However, he is often embroiled in pursuits that expose him to peril. Wary of burdening him further, a recent conversation between a newfound acquaintance, Amos (who provided a wonderful suggestion pertaining to medicamenta), and the Hollow Men smuggler, Jenwynn, lingered in my thoughts—a discussion centering around arcstones. While I was distracted with my experimental science to catch the nuances, I doubt Master Agerson's demise pure coincidence.
Knowing little of Amos save his companionship with Tor’in, I sought the latter to locate the former. Fortunately, Tor’in’s dwelling is already known to me due to affairs I will entail for a subsequent entry. The case of Master Agerson is more pressing.
Upon Tor’in's doorstep, I learned of Amos's covert role as a Vigilant, a revelation Tor’in implored me to keep confidential. I readily concurred and we made our way to the Crow bakery. Though we were in private out back, Tor’in and Amos stressed the importance of relocating our discourse to a bustling public house, Shagrol Magra, joined by Darrenstinian, who displays the most striking combination of Elvish zygomatic bones and Orcish mandible, and Meriel, a gifted performer. A public house’s superior use for safeguarding secrets eludes me, and here, I must assume I need a perspective shift as Keeper Bisha often urges. Acknowledging my inadequacies, I deferred to Tor’in’s judgment. Perhaps he wished to entice me with the prospect of once more savoring delectable Orcish vegetables. Though I planned to elucidate the plight of poor Master Agerson regardless of my treatment, I appreciated the encore to such lavish dining in the company of others. Seldom do I find myself regarded as aught but the pariah I know myself to be.
As for the involvement of Darrenstinian and Meriel, their trustworthiness to Tor’in and Amos warrants mine. Presently, I am bound for Zarin's abode, a wizardly author known for romantic chronicles, in hopes of unraveling House Fournius's connection to arcstones. Though skeptical of an author's insight into such matters, I defer yet again to Tor’in’s discernment. Though I falter to admit aloud, I too have ventured into crafting a romantic tale, a narrative I fondly call, 'The Hobo Orc and the Flesh Golem.' In time, I might summon the courage to disclose its content with Zarin to witness its dissemination for the pleasure of others. But enough of these trivialities, for we embark on an expedition to meet the wizard.