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It shall serve as a full account of my adventures, both near my home, and far abroad."
Ermet paused in his writing to take a slow sip from the wine he'd snuck outside, to the rooftop of his family's quaint cottage. It was his birthday- His thirtieth, by the King's Calendar. The half-elf was now, by both physical and social standards, an Adult. Still, the idea of him drinking had clearly affected his mother in some way, and so he'd chosen to abscond with the beverage to avoid a dramatic incident.
"Grandfather Ericho says that a Bard's journal is a practical living, breathing entity, that should be respected and listened to. If this is the case, I suppose it is only polite I introduce myself.
My name is Ermet Horton, and I live in the Great Wood, south of Highoak, on the continent of Kaliter. My mother is Andala Homebranch, and the man she married is Leontis Homebranch. I cannot, in truth, call this man my father, as he is not the one that bore me. However, he is the one that has filled the personal station of 'father' since my fifth year, so I suppose it would be only respectful to call him as such.
I am of Half Elven heritage, with the other half being Human. My father was a Cleric named Timothy, though most took to calling him Tim. I have never met him, but I intend to, one day. Â I was born in winter, thirty years ago, to my mother, in the house of her father and her mother. I refer to them as Grandfather Ericho, and Grandmother Alani, and care for them both deeply. I also have three half sisters. All are younger than me, and I love them all dearly! I hope that one day you may meet them, when they read my passages and entries.
From a young age, I have adored the written and spoken word, and the music of instruments. From tales of legendary heroes to songs about the Feywild's past, I have never heard a tale or song that I haven't fallen in love with, and desired a written copy of, to begin memorizing. In my summers, starting ten years ago, I would wander the countrysides with a lute I'd saved up for, and a backpack. Making money as I went from Tavern to Tavern. Though I'd like to say I'd seen many great things in this practice, such a statement couldn't be farther from the truth. Â In honesty, the circuit I travel has gotten rather mundane, and lacking in any sort of drama or unexpected turns.
As such, I am marking this date. Six months from now, I have decided, I will take what little fortunes I can earn working my father's lumberyard, the clothes on my back, and my Lute, and go north for Highperch, the Holy City of Hero Gods. Â Do not think your trust in me misplaced, Journal, for I assure you, every word is the truth. Until then, I will keep these pages blank, to preserve them as best I can for the journey I will take, and the no doubt legendary things I will witness.
Perhaps I shall even become a Drifter.
We shall see, Journal. And I look forward to taking every step. For the sake of historical arrangements, I have attached a timeline of historical events to the back of this page.
Signed,
Ermet Homebranch
First Day of Winter
Year 1641.Â
I am two months past my original embarkment date, but I swear I have good reason.
Four months after my first entry, The Rot entered our land.
It caused trees to wilt. Crops to wither, and die. The fauna became infected with great, pus-filled boils that tainted the meat beyond appropriate consumption. The Druids, the Clerics, even the confident and knowledgeable Wizards. All abandoned us. Those that refused to leave our homes- To give up the places we had lived, and our families had lived, for nearly a thousand years, were left to our own devices.
My youngest sister was the first to develop symptoms.
My Grandfather cared for her best he could, with what little medical knowledge he'd gathered throughout his journeys. But it was just. . . So fast. Within a week, she had succumb to the sickness. My father and mother were too overcome with grief. I buried her a short distance from our home, atop the hill we used to play on as children.
After that, it claimed my Grandfather- No doubt, infected in his desperate attempts to treat my youngest sibling. That day was difficult. I cut wood until my shoulders screamed in pain, and my arms were too heavy to lift. Even then, I couldn't bare myself to go inside; instead, I camped with my hound, Rose.
Both my sisters, and my mother. They all succumb to the same illness. There was naught I could do. I tried... Everything. But nothing worked. On the night she passed, my mother held my hand, and whispered to me. For the sake of not burdening my memory, but never forgetting her last words to me, I will transcribe what she said here. I have no doubt that at some point, they will fill me with a courage unfathomable.
"Ermet, you listen to me-" she had said- Her voice, which had moments ago been thick with fever and delirium, was clear and commanding. It reminded me of how she was, when she was upset at me for doing something I wasn't supposed to. For a moment, my mind had reeled back to the thirty years of my life I had spent, most of it attached to this woman's hip out of some paranoid fear that a great beast would swoop down and steal me away. How I'd spotted her for that. For not allowing me to run free and wild as so many other children did. Now I wished for one hour more of such treatment.
"- Don't... stay here. Your father- Your Grandmother- Will want to remain forever. Whether out of some stubborn pride for the land, or not wanting to leave our graves, it matters little for what reason. But this Rot... If you stay, it will consume us all." Her breath was ragged, and in short bursts. I am unsure if I even said anything- The memory, from my point of view, is blurred with tears and the sound of my own, heaving breath.
"But you have a talent. And... In the hours of what I have grown certain is my demise- A purpose, Ermet Homebranch. A reason to be. And I'll-"
At this point, her voice had become wracked with heavy coughing. I had stood, nearly fleeing from the room in an attempt to get her something to drink, but she squeezed my hand with such force that I was sure she'd break the bones.
"-- Be damned, if I let you get claimed by some disease. If you leave- And I mean, truly leave, depart, with no intent of returning- I am certain they will, too. It's a heavy burden I ask of you, my son- My sweet, baby boy- to take on such a cold and callous mantle, to provoke your elders into leaving this place, but it's one I know you can rise to, and carry well.
Promise me, Ermet. Promise me that once I go, you won't sit around to follow- You'll go. North. And go with the knowledge that, whatever you're doing, you're doing it without shame or silly guilt for avoiding this fever."
I was taken aback with fear and nervousness, the likes of which I'll never be able to forget. My stomach knotted, yet dropped. It was as if a mule had kicked me, and I was trying to rock away the daze that was clouding my mind. My tongue felt stuck to the bottom of my mouth, as if held fast by glue or wax. It took me some time, but finally I answered.
"I promise." Is all I could manage. My mother smiled the smile she had many times before. One that wracked my heart with memories of childhood again. And for a moment, I could almost smell the blooming meadows we would wander in my youth; my small hand clasped in her large one, before pulling away to chase after some butterfly or examine some flower closer.
