Missing Minstrel

My name is Kalikan. I am a bard. I do this only as work. I do not have passion for the tales I tell. I tell them for a reason, be it money or duty. I tell this one out of duty. I have pondered these scrolls. I have used magic to determine their origin. The only thing that I know with any certainty is that they were written by Absor, and given to me by his wife. It seems that the fool left home again following some calling or duty. He has not returned. His wife has asked me to find him. I can not. So I am distributing these letters to all his colleagues in the hope that one of you may have some suggestions. I would consider it a favor if you do not inform the lady that I have shown these to you. She already distrusts me due to my past. It would not please her to know that I have been showing her husbands letters to anyone. But I will do as I must to find him. So again I ask you to read these scrolls in hope that they will trigger some useful information…

Since my imprisonment, I think of nothing but you and our life together. All my hope lies in returning to you, as it always has in my travels. I think that perhaps I wander just so that I can return. Many of the things I have seen were grand and beautiful. Some were horrendous. But this place is perhaps the worst yet. It is dark, always. My cell has no exterior portal, no window, no door that I can find, nothing. It is most certainly designed to break the soul of it’s captive. And were it not for you, I would have been lost many days ago. Or is it weeks? It is absolutely silent in here. If I wish to hear a sound I must make it myself. And the stench of my own wastes is overwhelming.

But I will not tell you of the despair and the filth. Not now. Not until I have returned and healed enough that I can tell you without having to let you feel the pain of it. There is no need for this torture to be done to us both. It is only for that reason that I am glad our bond has failed. I guess I say that as a comfort to myself. If I could feel your love again, share your thoughts, this imprisonment would be meaningless. But the planar separation is too great. That, or the cell itself prevents it. I still wear the ring. Its cool touch is helpful, but I cannot communicate with you through it any longer.

In my waking hours I think of you. During sleep, I think of nothing. I have been without dreams since my capture. As you know, that is very unlike me. Perhaps they have used some mystical affect upon me to prevent my escape into dreams, to further my descent into madness. I have not yet gone mad. But it seems that can be their only goal. Yet, why have they suddenly supplied me with parchment? Why the small amount of Morun Amerie to provide me light? And how is it that here, of all places, they grow any form of the Morun lichen? And the inks are of the finest quality. I have failed to identify the type, but it flows well and dries swiftly. The parchment is also fine. The quill is the feather of a bird I do not know. Certainly a local creature, perhaps not even of the avian form. The “feathers” appear to be nearly scales, their color is a blood red. Huh! Even at the heart of despair I find something to puzzle and even excite me. I guess that my hope lives on. In contrast the lichen dies. Poor creature, it has served me well. And as the darkness returns, I wonder what it was that they expected me to write…

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