September 30, 1534
On the trail to Tristram

he storm had broken.

Izzrah and I both pulled up our hoods in a puny attempt to shield our heads from the fat drops of rain. Soon enough, we were both muddy and drenched thoroughly. Trying to keep up with my brother, I put some speed to my steps and cursed when I tripped upon an unseen rock. I fell unceremoniously flat on my face upon the earth, and was covered immediately with the foul-smelling muck.

Izzrah turned around, and upon seeing me in my present condition, grinned. He kept grinning that I though his face would split in half. "Would you stop gawking and help me up already?" I snapped at him, annoyed to no less degree. Izzrah walked towards where I lay and offered his right arm. After I had recovered my bearings, I looked up to see him studying my sorry state.

"That was a graceful landing, if I ever saw one."

I gritted my teeth and proceeded onwards, ignoring his comment. "Aw, Isabelle. You have no sense of humor whatsoever," I heard Izzrah say, as he fell in step with me. "Besides," he continued, "brown suits you best." I turned around and gave him a look of disgust. "Izzrah," I said, "do me a favor and hang yourself from the nearest tree."

We took shelter at the town of Tristram, about a week's ride from our destination, the town of Mornedealth in the East. We went in the first decent inn we came upon. It was not a large establishment, but it was clean and well kept. As we approached the doorway, a man greeted us pleasantly. "Greetings. Welcome to the Tavern Of The Rising Sun." He bowed. Izzrah gave him a smile, but I only grunted, in a hurry to rid myself of the dried mud stuck virtually everywhere in my body. The man, which we later learned was Ogden, looked at me quizzically. "That is a mighty strange golem, traveler. Is it yours?" Now, both Izzrah and I have no inkling what a golem is, but the loud guffaw we heard coming from the smith-shoppe had me convinced it was a word of insult. "Thas no golum, Ogden," The smithy said in words heavily laced with an accent, "thas a lassie, only she's covered in so much mud, that you mistook her for one of them golums." Ogden blushed at his mistake.

"Ah, sorry little girl. I did not mean to insult you."

Little girl? I thought. Why that was even worse than being called a 'golem', whatever that is! I stuck my nose high up in the air, and walked pass by the innkeeper. I needed a warm bath, and I will not stand here taking insults from poor common townsfolk.

Ogden turned his bewildered gaze upon Izzrah. Izzrah, determined to put the innkeeper out of his obvious discomfort, related their purpose.

"Innkeeper,"

"Call me Ogden."

"All right then, Ogden. As I was saying, we need a room, just for the night. As you can see, my sister and I had the misfortune of traveling in the middle of a storm. I pray you have a room to spare."

Ogden scratched his head with his forefinger. "Oh, indeed we do," he agreed, "but I hope I am not being too nosy if I ask...what got your sister in such a huff when I called her li'l girl?" Izzrah, upon hearing the innkeeper's question, laughed heartily. "Don't distress about it, my friend. My sister is indeed just a little girl, turning only 11 this winter. She just despises being called a child, for she thinks herself grown-up. Now if you excuse me, I have this pleasurable notion of a warm bath in mind."

"Imagine, Izzrah! That -- that man calling me a golem....then a little girl!" I wailed to my brother, while scrubbing my back furiously. Tarnation, I thought, that inn-keeper even spoiled the joy of a warm bath for me! Lost in my own thoughts, I became startled when I heard Izzrah groan.

"Isabelle, you know I sympathize with you, but I am really in need of a bath! Good Loki, you've been in there for god knows how many candlemarks ago!"

Izzrah collapsed upon the carefully made up bed, smudging the lily white sheets.

"Oh, now look what you did!" I said crossly, eyeing the dirtied blankets. Izzrah turned his head to my direction then to the empty bathing chamber. "Finally." He muttered, dumping his dirty belongings on the floor.

"Tis not proper to be walking around in breeches you know!" I hollered at his back, but Izzrah did not seem to hear me.

Silence.

I became worried that something happened to my brother during his short trip from our room to the bathing chamber. It turns out that I misplaced my fears, for I heard Izzrah merrily singing a bawdy song while sloshing water around the tub.

September 31, 1534
Departure from Tristram

The sky above us looked like a solid gray sheet that seemed to hang just barely above the tree tops, with no sign of a break in the clouds anywhere. The sun was no more than a dimly glowing spot near the western horizon, framed by a lattice of bare black branches. The cold did not help liven up the situation, either. I shivered, steadying Kessira, the mule I have bought back in Tristram. My eyes stung, but not from the freezing wind. Home -- mighty Thor, I want to be home. Home away from these alien forests and their unfriendly weather, away from people with no understanding and no manners...home...

Izzrah, perhaps sensing my sadness, slowed his mare into a trot and waited for me. Then we rode, side by side in silence, reminiscing all the good things we have lost. It seemed that just in one second, all that we cherished and loved flew away without any warning.

The most painful part is, the Vikings caught our people unaware, in the midst of a faire celebration. The warriors were unarmed as they seldom were. Even our most powerful mages can do nothing, as they died before they could utter a single chant.

I did not cry for I have no more tears to give. I need a blood-price for all the things those barbarians had done. They will pay, somehow.