So today is finally the day.
I thought saying goodbye to my home would be infinitely harder than this… but really, what is there left for me? My father is long gone… my goddess has left, and my pharaoh readies himself for war. I’ve since packed my things (thank you father for instilling in me the value of a good pack) and I’m ready to see what lies beyond the horizon.
Just in case, I will wait till night time to leave… the priests may become too inquisitive as why one would leave their “Paradise.” They can keep it. Thankfully those of the cult have accepted my desire to see the world… for if their goddess has left to wander, why not her followers?
Now I just have to tell my father goodbye. I think that will be the hardest part, actually…leaving him alone here. Who will tend his resting place and make the offerings to the gods?
I‟d like to think that he‟d understand why I have to leave. I can only hope that my father is waiting comfortably in the next life for Bast to return.
At first I thought it might have been the Anhur and their shadow magic… or even the Unther preparing to attack from the sea… but now I don‟t know. The mists rose to obscure everything from my sight and even took the sounds away… except for her voice. Could it have been the voice of my goddess, or worse… someone else’s?
This won’t be the first time my people have had to deal with the mistakes of the Gods…and try as I like to leave that past behind, it doesn’t look like it will be my last. Fortunately I don‟t seem to be the only one subject to the whim of higher powers. A silver-haired priest who isn’t old and a young woman who insists on covering herself up; strange contradictions in these two… and stranger words come from their lips; my heart races when I think of what a “star port” could be. All strangeness aside, I would rather stay with Lenata and Vedis than risk the wolves in the mist.
When we are in safer lands, I must ask her what that pretty thing is hanging from her belt.
Yet more seem to be suffering the same fate as ourselves, and are still quite contradictory. Something about Sephira makes my fur want to stand on end… but her actions show something different. After seeing how she took out that peasant without a thought, I think I will try and remain on her good side.
Goddess protect us, I didn’t know such creations existed. Mindless mounds of flesh doing the bidding of their master… I‟d almost feel sorry for them if one of them hadn’t tried to kill us. I would almost thank the flesh creature that came so quickly to remove the broken one… but something tells me I would rather not have to see it again.
I must remember to purchase some of this fire in a bottle next time I am able…and what exactly is a “Mordant?”
Travelling caravans… at least this is something I am used to. Unfortunately… they don’t seem to be used to me or my companions. Honesty, openness and a willingness to carry one‟s own weight can go far, however. I will try my best to help these people while the strange one sulks and the mage and priest bicker.
Note to self: be careful touching anyone if Vedis ever “excites the atoms’ around me again; the shock was quite irritating to the both of us. For that matter…I should dry in the sun next time if we ever get out of here.
The Gods have not abandoned me completely, it seems… for the hunt was fruitful and I was able to bring back food for the people. I only hope this will help ease the fears of the one with the guns who looks at me so warily. While I am eager to try my skills away from home, my father taught me well enough to respect those who offer aid.
The old woman in red… she seems to be a spiritual leader of sorts for these people. Do the gods talk to her through the cards? It must be nice to have such a simple ritual. It makes me wonder at the pomp and circumstance of the priests of Gheldeneth. Do they complete the rituals for the Gods or for their own purpose?
Apparently our people are not the only ones having trouble communicating with the Gods… for her cards have told us little more than that voice in the mist; this is all a mistake.
Goddess forgive my thoughts… if you even hear them anymore.
How was I made… and to what purpose? From out of the mouths of babes comes the question of the ages. I am no priest, little one… I can only tell you that I come far separated from the lair of the strange alchemist who built the pitiful Adam and set him on his course of destruction.
I was made out of love… and this place will either temper my steel or break it to pieces.
It’s growing late… I must try and get some rest before the caravan moves in the morning.