Let it suffice to say, my return to Solace was much different than I had expected it to be. After my time in the mountains, and before that, my time in the past, I had thought our reunion would be calm and joyful. Instead, I come home to find that goblins now patrol the land. There are whispers of war, rumors of vast armies and strange monsters sighted to the north. And yet, though it is troubling, at least we have reunited.
There are tales of the High Theocrat's religious persecution and inquisitions...I find it grimly amusing that the "wise and kind" Highseekers of Haven would have one of their followers resort to such tactics. I am all too afraid that it will only get worse. Flint, grumbling and dour as always, does not seem to second my beliefs, though I know he is just as worried as myself.
Our return to the Inn of the Last Home was a nostalgic whirl for myself. Unlikely as it may seem, one can certainly grow quite fond of spiced potatoes after many months in the wilderness. As it was, all we were greeted with was suspicion - not the welcoming looks that would have given us five years ago. Tension hung thickly in the air.
I was gladdened to see Caramon and Raistlin, though the strange mage was as reclusive and mysterious as ever. I often wonder how his brother can endure the biting sarcasm. As it was, Sturm's arrival proved to be the most enigmatic of all, as he was accompanied by two of the plainspeople, a folk rarely seen out of their homeland. Despite all of this, tidings only grew worse.
Kitiara had broken the oath.
Of any shock I might have received on this day, that truly was the greatest. The revenge Fistandauntilus visited upon me was terrible indeed, yet this was far worse. I felt as if a sword had been stabbed through my heart...though that may have been easier to bear than this. I had hoped she would have forgiven our less-than-friendly altercation on that night, five years ago. It seems that she did not.
My thoughts for Kitiara were interrupted by a strange old man, who mysteriously bade Goldmoon to sing us a tale. Her voice was beautiful, her song was heartfelt, and her story was epic. Yet, as the strange old man continued his story, the drunken High Theocrat Hederick demanded that the barbarian female turn over her staff. She refused, and he returned with an accustation of witchcraft. Her bodyguard angrily rose to his feet to confront Hederick, and lightly shoved him back. The drunken fool lurched, flailed his arms, and fell headfirst into the roaring fire.
It is here that events become muddled. Tasslehoff somehow managed to grab the lady's staff, and he swung it at the living inferno that had once been a Seeker priest. When it made contact, the Theocrat was knocked onto the ground, but when he struck the ground his wounds vanished. The old man then began to call for the guards, shouting for our companions to be arrested! We had little choice but to flee, faced with overwhelming odds as we were.
Tika led us through to the kitchen, where we were able to escape down to the ground. Bewildered and amazed, we made a dash for the trees, hoping to escape the guards that sought us.