10/19/2007

… Mort looked at me with the deer in the crossbow sights look and turned towards the portal.  Passing through, we met up with the rest of our comrades.  Owen was curious what had happened and where Mort had acquired such a large sword.  Without coming right out and stating what happened I dropped enough clues to Owen that Mort had basically removed the Frost Lord’s hand in order to take his sword.  Mort was clearly distraught with the decision he had made as the very fabric of his carefully woven life seemed to unravel.

What seemed like hours but in reality was mere minutes passed before Mort stated emphatically that we needed to recover the Frost Lord.  I argued that I had no desire to fly down a potentially endless chasm to find him and that, especially if he actually survived the fall I didn’t want to be the one to meet up with him.  Mort, having caused the predicament, volunteered.  I cast a spell of flight on him and told him that he had 5 minutes.  The rest of us waited as Mort descended into the dark depths below.

Time nearly up, Beckham wondered why he wasn’t back yet.  Not particularly interested in losing Mort I decided I had better investigate and flew on down.  After a small search I was able to locate him standing impasse with the Frost Lord.  Mort had tossed the sword at the man’s feet as well as his hand.  The Frost Lord had taken his hand and, using ice, reattached it to his stump (though obviously without use).  Mort asked if I could get either Nim or Owen to come down and help us talk to the man since they obviously were both able to decipher the language.  Thinking Nim would not be willing to let me use magic on him, I opted for Owen and flew back up to retrieve him.

Imagine the surprise on my face when Nim took a swan dive right off the end of the bridge when I explained the situation.  It took me a moment to recover before casting the spell on Owen and bringing him along, leaving Beckham, Pip, and Joe up above.

Through Nim’s divine magic we were able to speak Celestine with the Frost Lord and learned that his named was BowelThermos or something like that.  It may take some time to work out how to pronounce his name.  With reason, he was very hesitant at first but after Nim offered to restore his hand tomorrow, he agreed to come along with us.  Mort had explained his need for the sword—to slay the dragon—and BowelThermos mentioned that he had fought a dragon though he did not succeed in slaying it.  Notwithstanding, he had some information he thought would help us in our task.  On the other hand, I don’t think he really knew what to do with himself at this point, having been 2000 years since his people reigned.

We flew back up the chasm just in time to see all the remaining statues charging across it.  I could see Joe hop through the portal as we came up though Beckham and Pip were nowhere in sight.  BowelThermos created a huge barrier of ice on the bridge preventing the statues from crossing it and we all passed through the portal.  It was at that point we realized Beckham was missing.  Joe said something about him going to poke around the temple and then shortly after he left the statues came out.  I feared the worst, he was probably slain by the statues and they came looking for more.  Mort, not willing to let one of our new comrades be left behind, insisted on trying to find him.  I had no intentions of flying over there to check it out and said as much.  As I was arguing with Nim over the situation I realized Mort was gone.  Apparently he really felt bad about this.  We waited a few minutes before he returned with Beckham in tow.  Beckham told us that when he was peering into the temple all the statues animated and ran right past him, ignoring him completely.  After a few minutes they all came right back and again ignored him but, at that point, he was able to come out and find the big ice barrier.  Luckily Mort is built like an ox and broke it down allowing Beckham to cross.  Lucky fellow.

As we were leaving Nim took me aside and stated, rather matter of fact, that the spiders would be willing to make a trade.  Some spider silk in exchange for us taking care of a hell hound (though Nim merely said “the flaming dog”).  I was taken aback… Nim claimed to be able to speak with spiders.  While hesitant, the fact remains that he was able to read the long lost language through the power of his God so I can’t necessarily discredit his claim until given proof otherwise.  I decided to take his word on it and we decided to investigate the flaming dog.

Mort, through the power of his Sentinel pin, was able to track the dog into one of the other caves.  Entering, we saw a scruffy hunting dog eating a spider corpse.  Didn’t look like a hell hound but the fact that it was eating one of the spiders confirmed that this was indeed the dog.  Mort went up to it and just as he got within striking range it immolated itself.  He struck out and missed, followed by an ice dagger from me, which also missed.  Just after attempting to impale the dog with an ice dagger, I noticed somebody enter the cave behind me.  I turned to see a young man peering intently at the dog with a look of complete satisfaction and, oddly enough, what appeared to be romantic desires of some sort. 
Chatting with him I learned that he had been tracking this dog for some time, very interested in learning about it.  He would prefer the dog not be killed and, luckily enough, somebody managed to get the dog to sit down.  Upon sitting, the fire dissipated and we were able to get it to come over with us.  Apparently it was just a regular dog some fool had enchanted with the ability to immolate.

Deciding that was sufficient to meet the spiders’ demands, Nim and I entered the caves to report.  I stayed back while letting him go forward to converse with the spiders.  He came back a short time later with the silk I needed and, asking Nim to stay, proceeded to work my magic.  Weaving the silk with the threads of magic, I was able to shroud my staff in magical obscurity, leaving only a faint trace of magic about it.  I was pleased with the results, my staff now appearing to be nothing more than a standard mages staff.  Exiting the caves our newfound friend Cole looked surprised and said “wow, that looks very different now than it did an hour ago.”  I smiled but didn’t give him details.

The next few days passed rather uneventfully.  We returned to Pangoria and allowed Mort and the others to help research the items BowelThermos needed to help us destroy the dragon.  Additionally, I spent a couple of days working on identifying the items we had lifted from the Varu corpses.  We decided, after only locating information for a couple of items, that our next stop should be Phoenix.  The libraries there might shed more light on the location of the other items we need to destroy the dragon.  Using Schmendrick’s portal, we were able to gate over to his home outside Tristen.  From Tristen we moved on our way towards Phoenix, stopping at a couple of towns along the way.

I fail to mention that Beckham left us after exiting the caves.  That raised my suspicions greatly about him and I intend to follow up on him next time we are up near Pangoria.  Just before we left Pangoria we were also approached by a man named Saul, a chiseled old soldier looking for work.  Needing another sword arm in our party, we agreed to let him join up.

I must say that while my doubts were cast on Mort and his intentions back in the cave, I have been reassured by his subsequent actions that he is a man of honor.  I cannot pretend to personally be a man of honor but I respect those that are.  Perhaps that is why I was so disappointed in him… he has built himself up so much this last year travelling with him that I saw him somewhat more pious than the general populace.  He has done things that were questionable for his nature, though he always comes back stronger after falling.  I realize now why he felt he needed BowelThermos’ sword.  To him, it was the only way he saw possible to vanquish the dragon.  He, as a sentinel, is sword to protect the people.  On the flipside, I could care less so long as the dragon doesn’t come my way.  I’m sure Mort sees me as a self-centered, greedy man who cares nothing about the woes of anybody else.  He isn’t wrong, of course, though he isn’t necessarily right either. 

I’m more worried about things in the past than in the future.  I truly fear and am convinced that I am none other than Edward Grumby, the destroyer of Aerith.  I alone caused more pain, death, and destruction than the dragon Mort pursues ever could hope to accomplish.  That alone is my burden… that is why I feel I must study as much about the events as possible.  Perhaps by learning more about what happened I can somehow prevent it from happening when the time comes.  That will change history greatly, I know… I cannot comprehend how different things will be if I manage to stop the destruction of Aerith, but I feel I have been given the knowledge and foresight to prevent it.

11/30/2007

While we prepared ourselves for the battle to come, Mort noticed a shadow slide out from under the door at the top of the stairs.  It asked us what our purpose was here, which he promptly told it that we were here to take down the master of the tower for his evil acts.  The shadow and Mort talked a little bit longer before it retreated back under the crack in the door.  Mort, sparking an idea as he pulled out the crossbow he received from Schmendrick, called for the shadow to return.

Immediately after it appeared under the doorway, Mort shot the shadow, a shrill shriek pierced our ears as the shadow was obviously injured.  It retreated back through the doorway.  After a moment Mort and some others charged up the stairs and knocked the door in, battle ensuing.

A thick darkness poured out of the room and filled the upper half of the stairwell.  I went to join the fray but, unfortunately, could not see into the darkness and was unable to aid my comrades.  I called out to Mort that I couldn’t see anything and was unable to assist and backed out the doorway to where I could see.  Luck was on my side by doing so, as the shadow, hearing my lack of ability to see, decided to focus on me.

As the battle raged I could hear the crunching of bones and splashing of blood.  At one point just before the darkness dissipated, I heard a very loud crunch followed by a solid thud as a body fell to the ground.  I entered the room to see Mort standing over the mage, his axe dripping blood and the mage’s head split in two.  Laying around the room were some more children in varying stages of transmutation, yet all quite clearly recent combatants.

The extent of this man’s treachery became apparent as we investigate his inner sanctum and questioned the children.  He had told them that if they didn’t help protect him from us that he would kill their families, keeping them as servants through fear for their families.  We healed up the children and loaded up the mage’s former possessions.  Covering the entrance to the tower so nobody would happen upon it on accident or otherwise, we headed back to the town and were received as heros.

My intention was to push on now that we did our good deed for the month but both Nim and Mort were insistent on helping the children recover, especially after Nim discovered that through the power of his Goddess he could restore them to their true nature.  Not too keen on staying that long and seeing that Nim could only restore a couple children per day, I decided to lend assistance as well.  I was able to restore between ten and fifteen children per day and did as much.  The townsfolk, ever thankful and insistent on giving me gifts, I was glad to oblige.  Might as well get something for helping them out.

We rolled out of town after a couple days of healing.  I drove our large wagon, a gift from the villagers, laden with fine silverware and other trinkets of value.  Amongst our wares was a large mirror we extracted from the tower – the mirror was some sort of magical device that helped us see portions of the future.  Unfortunately we were unable to uncover its true purpose or mode to function, but we saw it as an item worthy to sell in Phoenix.

Our remaining travels to Phoenix were uneventful with exception of a farmer asking our assistance along the way.  His servants had rebelled and killed two of his guards and were holed up in the barn.  Seeing it as an opportunity to make some quick pay, we approached the barn and called the men out.  When they refused to exit, Mort and some others entered to negotiate.  I entered behind Mort and saw that one of the undead had a knife to the throat of their prisoner.  Thinking through what we would do to settle the dispute, I decided to help the zombie make his decision.  I used magic to lift the knife from the zombie’s hand forcefully, embedding it inches into the ceiling.  Mort charged forward and dispatched him quickly.  Hearing movement upstairs, I went outside and found the other zombie attempting to escape.  We were able to stop him quite easily and, after some questioning, receive our pay from the farmer.

We reached the city late in the day and after declaring our wares, made our way to the undead-free sector.  With the lack of undead to clean that sector, it was noticeably dirtier though “dirty” is a relative term.  I was glad to find a nice inn to crash at, one free from the undead I had spent years of my career fighting against.  It was all I could do to refrain from unleashing a nice concussion bolt in the middle of a large group of them.

The next day was spent licensing our wares in order to sell them.  I was able to secure a decent pay for all of Hugo’s equipment on premise of “research”, though I had much less luck on the wand and mirror.  The wand was too expensive for anybody to purchase, so we opted to hold on to it; the mirror was too difficult to identify and, as such, would sell as a “cursed” item.  We received two offers on the mirror, one legal and legit but only 70gp, the other by a shady figure who approached me shortly after I left the first place.  He was a wily man and kept looking around as if he expected to be found out or as if he was being watched.  I was uncomfortable with him but the offer was rather good at a firm 195gp, so I told him I’d need to converse with my associates and then make our decision.

He instructed me to leave two candles in our window at the inn by midnight this evening should we decide to sell to him.  I took that and went to Mort with the offers.  Mort and I bantered back and forth about the legality and money issues until we both decided that the money wasn’t worth the risk.  The fact that we had to declare our wares upon entering the city and that we would be leaving without the mirror made things a little difficult for us.  We had no desire to be imprisoned in this forsaken city.  Our comrades all used the mirror to try and see who would be the best person to let take possession of the mirror and our answers ranged from Bullfeif’s magic advisor to Schmendrick to the leader of the Sentinels, and more.  In the end, we opted to selling it legally to our first offer and getting it off our hands.

In the days to come we plan on investigating things about how to kill the dragon, more about Edward Grumby, and more.  I am loathe to stay in this city but I feel like we need to be here for something.  Various members of our company have approached me with requests for equipment and I need to spend some time working some good equipment into our company armory such as some armor, weapons, powerstones, and more.

With each day that passes I become more and more anxious as to my future.  I can feel the threads of time tightening around me as the inevitable event leading to the destruction of Aerith nears.  I have no idea how I get back to Old Aerith nor if there is any way I can avoid it.  The prospect of avoiding it, although attractive, would have consequences to the world that would change the whole course of history.  Is such a course possible?  Is such a course advisable?  Am I destined to repeat this act through the concourses of time evermore, trapped in a circle of time and never to break free?  Perhaps that is why I want to seed progeny in this time… as a means to somehow break myself from the bonds of time and allow my essence to continue into the ages.

Safron… suddenly my mind darted to her.  What became of her?  We left her and our porters in Knight’s Bridge and sent no instructions to them, nor money to continue.  They have only a certain amount that we left with them… such amount that would have expired weeks ago.  Do I care that we left them behind?  Do I care that we may never meet up again?  Questions I ask myself but cannot answer.  Maybe Schmendrick’s observation about her was true, nothing more than a whore?  I allowed myself to entertain thoughts of love, whether real or not, and she allowed me to take care of her.  I don’t know if I should try to send a message to her or if I should just move on… let myself by entwined by the lassos of time and carried away to my ultimate end.

Time shall tell.

1/11/2008

Shortly after we awoke and had breakfast, we cleaned up the bodies from our small encounter last night and set out to build up our fortifications.  Ralph – the archeological dig’s foreman – showed us around the site and pointed out where the dig site was supposed to start.  We decided it would be prudent to build a blockhouse where the workers could safely spend each night as the Irregulars performed our work as guards. 

We spent the next several days clearing forest and building up the blockhouse in a three story foundation with an open hole on each floor leading out the roof to provide ventilation.  During our time building the blockhouse, in which I was very actively involved, the workers performed their dig.  When we were near completion they finally had news – they had broken through into what appeared to be a church of some sort; Mort, Valthramas, and I stayed back while the rest of the Irregulars and some of the diggers entered to investigate.  Not wanting to be completely left out, I removed the eye patch from my pouch and cast a Wizard’s Eye to follow along.

The church appeared to be a sanctuary of Danica.  I watched as my comrades went from room to room investigating until at one point they found an area with several slots cut into the wall.  Several of those slots had bodies, one slot had a large crate.  I was momentarily taken aback when they pulled the crate down and found it marked “Property of Nim of Griswold’s Irregulars”.  The town upon which we stood hasn’t seen the light of day in over 1200 years, ceasing to exist roughly around the time of the destruction of Aerith.  My mind started racing again as I realized that the only way something like that could be there is if Nim somehow travelled back in time with me when I became the Destroyer.  More so, it solidly confirmed my link to Edward.

The investigation continued in the church where they found a large sarcophagus belonging to an ancient general by name of Alfred.  Alfred was somewhat of a historical legend and, until now, was thought to not really have existed.

When my comrades returned from the church and reported to me I feigned surprise when Nim informed me about his apparent possessions here in the church.  He told me that a letter in the crate stated that it came from a man by name of Merik; a man Nim had apparently returned back to the church after he fell away in the past.  Nim was really curious about how this could happen and I kept mute on the subject rather than let him know the real details.  I wasn’t about to tell him – especially a Danican – who I was and what role I had in history.

That night, after the investigation concluded and our watches were in full swing, I was awakened and notified that an ethereal army was marching our way.  I went to the roof to investigate while Mort went out the front door.  I looked out and saw a column of what appeared to be roughly 50 men marching two-by-two towards the camp.  Glancing around, I saw Mort leaving the blockhouse and walking briskly towards them to meet them.  Sometimes I admire Mort’s courage and forwardness, other times I am led to believe there is much less brain than courage in that head of his; this was one of those times where I thought he left his brain behind.  I watched nervously as he met the column of ghosts and talked with them for a few minutes.

A few minutes passed before he motioned for Sara to join him which she did timidly.  He motioned towards the blockhouse while speaking with her and she sprinted back and went inside.  Returning back to Mort with Ralph and Nim in tow, I was surprised to see the ghosts spread out over a semi-circular pattern around the blockhouse and wait.  Ralph seemed to be taking extensive notes about whatever it was Mort and the Captain spoke about.  It seemed like an eternity but in reality was a mere half hour before the ghosts disappeared back into the forest and Mort joined back at the blockhouse.  Ralph refused to go back to bed and spent the rest of the night taking notes, making diagrams, etc. 

Answering to my inquiry, Mort replied that so long as we didn’t disturb the dead the soldiers wouldn’t disturb us.  They were cursed to protect the dead in this region – their own bodies amongst the dead here – and that they would attack us if we did anything to disturb them.  Mort mentioned that the soldiers seemed somewhat surprised to see Nim, almost as if they had seen him before, which again cemented the fact that Nim had been here in Redwing (the ghosts imparted that name to us) 1200 years ago.  The ghosts had also agreed to allow Nim to bury the dead who were improperly buried without any sort of recourse against him.

The remainder of the month passed as the diggers made extensive progress unearthing the town and finding all sorts of artifacts.  At the end of our contract we returned to Phoenix to receive pay and turn in our report.  We opted to wait for the proper value of the dig to be calculated before receiving our pay and, as such, made plans to stick around town for another two weeks because that was how long the proprietor expected the valuation to take.

I spent the day trying to hock our Varu items but didn’t receive any offers that were attractive to me.  One man who wished to see the items wanted to meet with us at our inn, which we countered and made arrangements to meet in a more neutral area.  The man was quite old by all appearances but very interested in our wares.  His offer was interesting to say the least.  He made an offer directly to Mort – a pair of boots that he claimed would be very useful in hunting down and dispatching a dragon in exchange for all our Varu gear.  That offer raised our brows because the man obviously knew more about us than we thought.  Further inquiry revealed that he was purveyor of the library and, as such, had direct access to know what sort of records we looked into when we visited.

The boots were a pair of powerful artifacts, according to the librarian.  They would render the wearer impervious to all fire, able to withstand any movement impeding magic, and the boots themselves were indestructible to fire.  Obviously we wanted to test them.  We made arrangements to test them in the mage’s academy and used all sorts of tests against them while Mort wore them.  We were pleased with the results and made the trade.

Taking the librarian aside and asking to speak with him in private, I brought up the subject of Edward Grumby and the destruction of Aerith.  His eyes sparkled as if he knew exactly where I was going with things.  The purveyor gave me far more information than I had ever previously been able to attain about Edward – that he was an instructor at the academy prior to being called in to the capital during the war.  He was a military genius, precisely the reason they called him in as a general to help fight the Suul and, more specifically, their general whom they called the Dragon.  The librarian also gave me the run down on all the different theories about Edward’s end which included his death at an assassin’s hand and a new one which I had never heard.  He looked me squarely in the eyes, as if piercing my very soul, as he told me the other theory: Edward had simply disappeared or “returned home.”  I was clearly taken back, at which point he stopped and asked me to come by and see him at the library the next day.  I accepted his offer.

Early the next morning I rose and left without breakfast.  Arriving at the library I was received by the porters and led into a back room that had previously escaped my notice.  It was a section of the library containing noticeably older books and devoid of any persons.  Devoid, that is, except for the purveyor.  He smiled as I entered and motioned me to approach and take a seat at the desk where he sat.  He had several books out on the desk, one of which he appeared to have been intently studying upon my arrival.

Upon sitting down he slid the book he was studying across the desk towards me and said he thought I would be very interested in it.  The book was titled “History of the Grumby’s”.  Opening to the preface, I read and learned that it was an account of the males in my family starting with my great-grandfather and tracing the line down to me, ending only several months ago, approximately the time we cleared out the false brotherhood from the cabin outside of Tristen.  Each of the other males in my family had their history stop around age 50, apparently past the age of interest for the recorders of our history.

The level of detail in the book was remarkable, accomplishable only through scrying magic and utter dedication to the task.  I flipped through the pages and read accounts about my early years, son of a merchant.  Memories flooded back of my times out on the rough seas with my father and older brother Urick.  Memories turned to pain as I read the excruciating detail about my brother’s death during one of those such trips.  We were shipping grain for a large coop, taking it from Seaport to Granger.  During the trip we were caught unexpectedly by a large storm, tearing our ship to pieces.  At the time luck, or perhaps fate, saved me from death.  My father was able to maintain a strong grip on the lifeboat as we were buffeted about on the waves, his other hand firmly grasped my own.  Urick was not so lucky.  He was serving as the lookout on that trip and happened to be in the birds nest when the ill-fated wave smashed our boat.  I clearly remember watching him slammed from the birds nest and begin plummeting to the sea, only to be caught short by some rigging that had come loose and wrapped around his neck.  Father says he was killed instantly but I remember watching him writhe and struggle to free himself.  I looked up to Urick all those years and aspired to become like him, a master seaman.  Those desires were cut short and I turned my back to the sea, much to my father’s dismay, and followed in the footsteps of my forbearers as a war mage.  I intended on gaining the power to control the elements and prevent them from ever affecting me in that way again.

I inquired the origin of the book and learned that there is a group merely known as the Watchers who have had an active interest in my family for several generations, apparently due to some prophecy that centered on us.  The prophecy stated that one of our line, the descendants of Edward, would have a major key to play in the universal outcome of Gaia’s fate.  That prophecy was supposed to take place sometime before the individual turned 50, hence the reason the history stopped with each member at that age and continued tracing the other members. 

Thanking the purveyor for his help and giving me a copy of the book, I left and went back to the inn.  I spent the entire day reading through the history, learning about my great-grandfather whom I had never met but only heard stories about.  I was not disappointed as I read through his history and learned that all the stories about his courage, valor, and skill in combat were true.  Paolus Grumby, my great-grandfather, was a captain in the military and a mage of noteworthy skill himself.  The account went through encounter after encounter where he prevailed against insurmountable odds, blasting the enemies back with his well placed magics and cunning stratagem. 

I learned of my grandfather’s brother, Wicker Grumby, a man of no small fame himself yet one I never heard of.  He was sent deep into Suul territory by the Crown Prince himself to rescue the Prince’s daughter whom had been taken captive by slavers and transported into the Suul lands.  Wicker rescued the young princess from the slavers and destroyed all trace of the slavers and their compound.  Returning to Celestine lands he fell back into obscurity and lived out the rest of his life as a farmer, apparently as penance for his self-perceived evils for slaughtering each and every slaver and giving no quarter.

The stories continued and were rarely boring.  My family was built up of heroes.  All that heritage only confused me more, wondering why my father had turned from the family and decided to become a merchant, a fisherman.  I poured through my father’s history and found the reason.  At a ripe age of 16 my father entered the academy, much like all of our forbearers before us and all his siblings (which struck me at that moment – our family had not had a single female born into the line for the entire documented history I had before me).  My father entered the academy and was found to have no magical ability whatsoever, thus he was sent to become a foot soldier instead of a war mage.  At first, he decided to go with the flow but quickly learned that the rest of his family seemed to shun his lack of magic.

My father served his four year term in the military valiantly and accomplished many accolades but, in spite of his awards, his family still looked down on him.  Dejected, he left military service and his family and set off to make a name and career for himself.  Having always had the desire to see the ocean, he set out for the port town of Miles where he set himself up and built a successful mercantile business.  He rarely spoke of his family nor ever allowed us to meet them, the only contact I had was through the stories of my great-grandfather and the legends surrounding him.  I now understood why my father was so strongly against my joining the military as a battle mage.  I was reforming those memories he had and causing him to relive the pain of not fitting into a magically adept family.

That night I was woken to a loud knock at my door.  The voice from the other side said that a ghost was requesting my presence in the catacombs.  I was suspicious and a little disconcerted by the fact that a ghost knew ME for who I was and wanted to meet with me.  I told the man at my door to wait a moment and geared myself up for the worst.  I donned my armor, my robes, and grabbed all my gear.  Opening the door cautiously, I found that it was not a man so much as an adolescent , no more than 15 years of age, standing there awkwardly.  His ill fitting pants tied tightly about his waist with a rope, a shabby shirt hanging to the side, and a mat of dirty hair filling his head.  He looked at me expectantly and gestured to follow, turning and walking briskly towards the stairs.  I grabbed his shoulder, startling him, and said that I would like to recover one of my companions to go with me.  He shrugged and stood aside while I woke Mort.

I entered and filled Mort in quickly with the details, asking him to dress for a fight.  He took a few moments donning his armor, a little longer due to the late hour, and signaled he was ready.  While he was getting ready, I woke Vance and asked him to get ready and come along as well.  We followed the young man deep into the catacombs, trying to keep track of the twists and turns in order to later retrace our steps.  Entering a back room that seemed a little too old and a little too out of the way, I saw the familiar glow of an apparition sitting atop a sarcophagus, and then gasped.  The apparition looked back at me with a familiar look, all too familiar, as it was my own.  The ghost was me!

The boy turned and left, apparently unfazed by the fact that the ghost and myself were the same persons.  The ghost smiled and said “Oh good!  It worked!”  As he introduced himself as Edward Grumby a wash of relief poured over me.  All these months of worrying that Edward was me, all the stress just instantly disappeared… for that brief moment.  He was quick to fill me in with the details that he needed me to come back in time and help him fight a mage from our time who had somehow traveled back and was assisting the Dragon (the Suul general) in his assault against the Celestine Empire.  He spared most details about how it would happen, but let us know that I would actually possess his body and that my friends would come along as themselves with their own equipment.  My body would be left behind, helpless, while I was in the future inside his body.

As we were preparing ourselves to leave, our other comrades entered, all equipped and ready for battle.  I was surprised to see them until Cole mentioned that a man by name of “Pete” sent them to find us.  Having met up with Flaming Pete on several occasions and taken part in his prophecies, I didn’t question any further.

It was decided that Valthramas and Sara would stay behind caring for my body while the rest of us jumped through time to save the world.  We joined hands as Edward recited his magic and were pulled into the magic.  I felt as if my body was being ripped asunder as I was pulled into the magical tendrils that surrounded me.  My mind filled with darkness, my body with pain, as I felt myself tugged deeper into the grasps of time.  Images filled my eyes of the world filled with destruction, under the power of the Fallen, much like when we were put into Ellisar’s memories.  I saw the world as the Fallen would have it, as they were projecting it, giving me suspicions that they were involved somehow with the man they called the Dragon.

After what seemed like hours but in reality passed in mere moments, I felt like I was whole again.  My head was reeling as I opened my eyes, finding my vision blurry.  I could hear a voice through the buzzing in my ears and struggled to make sense of what it was saying.  The blur in my vision was preventing me from seeing who it was at first.  As my vision cleared and the buzzing died down I finally realized where I was… the castle outside Redcliffe.  Standing over me was Ellisar and he was asking if I was ok and who I was.  I answered that I was Griswold, to which he sighed very audibly in relief.  Looking around me I saw my comrades all prone on the ground, each one of them stirring.

My companions all regained their composure quickly but I felt dull.  Suddenly I heard a voice in my head – Edward – he stated that until we got used to sharing a body I would feel incomplete.  With each word he spoke my head pounded and my vision blurred.  We spoke briefly about what our next course of action would be – go to Aerith.  We were due there shortly, shortly being 9 months prior to what we all knew to be the destruction of Aerith.  Ellisar offered to gate us just outside of Redwing (which explained how Nim got to be there), and did so.

So here we stand, about a day’s march outside of Redwing, ready to save the world yet again from the Varu and their dastardly plans.