Dear Borgen,
I don’t know why I’m writing you this, its not like you’ll
ever read it. Even if you were still with us, I don’t know if you can actually
read. I’ve never seen you try. Figured that perhaps you can only read and write
Dwarvish. Well, thanks to this enchanted belt so can I, so here goes nothing.
I never told you this Borgen, never told anyone in fact, but
you were the first person since the incident who showed me any kindness. Well,
kindness might be stretching it, but as a barbarian I suppose that any interaction
that doesn’t involve breaking my shins with club can be considered kindness,
and after everything that happened to me I’d take what I could get. When I
first met you, I was ready to die. For two years I’d fled across the world with
only one thing keeping me going, the prospect of revenge on Viktor. I’d barely
eaten, barely slept, and hadn’t felt the magics of spring or autumn flow
through me in all that time. When I finally got the scaly bastard, there was
nothing else for me to live for. I’d lost my students, my colleagues, my office
and most painfully, my life’s research. Had the desire for vengeance not burned
within me I would never have fled the College but lay down and waited to follow
my students into the void.
With Viktor dead, I turned to you and the rest of his companions,
I fully expected you to try and kill me. I half expected you to succeed. I didn’t
at all expect you to ask me to accompany you down into the sunless citadel in
his place, and I was so confused that I agreed to it before I’d worked what the
question was. It was rather fun. It had been a while since I’d delved into a
place in search of treasure rather than just sending in some students. I got a
couple of trinkets, and then it was over. From the moment we stepped outside
the citadel I found myself wondering, what the hell do I do now? Suicide
crossed my mind, go out on a high and all that, but then you stepped up and
presented an alternative with four simple words. “Fancy a potabbage pie?”
Those next months were some of the best I can remember. We
roamed free, eating, drinking, and fighting anything that took offense at my
words or your smell. When we eventually parted ways, I’d regained enough of myself
to look forward and consider the future. Eladrin live a long time, and even
though I’d lost a hundred years of my life, I had long enough left to try and
rebuild.
Then in Chult I found you again, and almost immediately lost
you. I hope you don’t mind me saying that, sad as it was, I was always prepared
for your death. There’s a good Darwinian reason you don’t see many dwarf
pirates (Oh, and in case I haven’t told you of him before, Professor Darwinius
was the first wizard to wonder why there are so few gnome barbarians, and in
his thesis discovered that around as many gnomes leave to become barbarians as
humans do, but after two years, only 0.03% of them are still alive compared to 14%
of humans. The old fool never did figure out why). After you died, I assumed
you’d just go up to the great rockpool in the sky or whatever it is you
believed in. It was only a little while later that it fully hit me… The Death Curse.
“No,” I thought, “that won’t do.” I’ve never been the most
loyal friend to anyone, Wizards are solitary beasts, but I won’t stand by while
your soul is devoured and twisted for some foul purpose. I haven’t touched a
drop of wine recently and I won’t do so again until you are safely back among
all the other dwarf pirates who didn’t have the sense to reconsider their
career paths.
We’re making slow progress, and the road has been filled
with innumerable distractions. Our most recent events have shaken me somewhat.
A hag called Nanny Pupu claimed to have the knowledge to bring people back from
the dead despite the curse. My impulsive companions attacked her before she
could say anything more, but on the way back I decided to run in and see if there
was anything written down I could peruse before they tried to burn her house
down.
It was at point that things got… well… weird. My companions suddenly gave chase, for some
reason desperate to burn it down before I could reach it. I was so taken aback
I lost the lead and was forced to teleport myself inside before they could
reach me. “I’m sure it’s just nerves from fighting the beholder,” I thought to
myself. “They’ll understand. Once I’ve gathered up the papers, I’ll explain to
them how useful it could be and we shall flick through the information
together, learn what that sneaky hag was up to and then burn anything useless
or dangerous along with the remains of her house.” Only… that’s not what
happened. Instead, the moment I materialised in the house, I found myself
surrounded by magical darkness. That must have been Hawk’s doing, I don’t
believe it’s the sort of spell Drev’nae would use. I also found I could smell
smoke. Fearing the worst, I dispelled the darkness and discovered to my horror,
that they had lit the house on fire with me still inside. Had I not dispelled
the darkness, I might have been unable to find a way out before I perished.
Before I could come to terms with the extent of my comrades’ treachery, I
gathered the first important looking book I could find and fey stepped out of
there.
Barely did I have a moment to cough the ash out of my lungs
before Hawk charged me. I don’t know what he was playing at. I dodged, and the
fellow almost ran off the cliff. I turned to find myself face to face with an
incensed Drev’nae, who declared that if I insisted on keeping the Hag’s things
then I wouldn’t be able to count on her help in the future. Truth be told I
don’t remember the exact wording of what she said, I was so baffled by the
entire situation. She stalked off, as did the others, leaving me there beside
the burning building they’d just almost trapped me in. In the end, Velverin
came back. I’ll hand it to him, he really tried to be nice, giving me a cigar
and leading me away from the building. However, as we went he warned me that
this time Drev’nae may not be so quick to forgive me. Forgive me? He tells me
this (with a straight face no less) when I’m standing coated in ash from being
trapped in a burning building by her, Hawk or both of them, and has the
barefaced cheek to suggest that I’m in need of forgiveness! For the last hour,
I’ve been pondering these events, and I fear it would take a smarter Wizard
than me to make sense of them. What should a reasonable person feel in this
situation? Whichever way I peer at it, it just looks like betrayal. Have I not
followed Drev’nae all this way and helped her fulfil her mission of finding the
ring of winter? Well the pursuit of knowledge means as much to me as the pursuit
of her orders does to her. I respect her enough not to attempt to interfere
with her quest, and I had, perhaps foolishly, expected the same.
Perhaps I am blinded by my rage. Maybe when some time
passes, I shall see what I’m supposed to have done that was so terrible. But
time is something we don’t have. Or rather time is something I, and you, do not
have. Its fine for the others, Drev’nae has accomplished her mission. I suspect
she only stays now for Valarith’s sake. Velverin… I confess I still don’t fully
understand what he hopes to achieve here, and the same goes for Hawk. The death
curse must seem to them like an idle curiosity. I shouldn’t blame them for
that, I suppose. It was only a couple of weeks ago that I felt the same. Then you
died. You died because of m… well, because of your clumsiness really, but my inebriation
was certainly a contributing factor. The others moved on from you days ago, and
why not. It’s not like you were the first friend they can remember.
Now I’ve waffled enough. Just… just know that whatever
happens with the others, I won’t stop pursuing the death curse. I’ll run into a
hundred more burning buildings if I think it will bring me the knowledge I need
to stop all this and send you properly on your way. I owe you that much, you great,
smelly, bearded bastard.
P.S. This belt seemed to have caused me to grow a rather
fine beard. I have to ask… how the hell did you ever get to sleep!? The damn
thing itches so much I’ve had to put both Owl and Oswald on night-time scratching
duty.
