Wasted Time

20^th of Othen 1734

Staring. I’ve been lying on my back for almost three days now. Though no possession has been driven from my body, the locals keep trying to heal me. Apparently I will not leave until they are satisfied. They search for an answer though there is none to give. And still I must wait. Their fool-hardy attempts to heal me have taken some small toll on my body. The scars are beginning to heal from the wounds I sustained in the forest, though I have not been able to acquire any salve to ease my pain. My legs feel as though they have some strength again, a pleasure which I had not endured two days prior. At my attempts to stand I am forcibly laid back down by two fiendish characters known as Harborrow and Rickta . Brutish creatures, they watch over my bed day and night and I question whether they even sleep.

My mind plays games with me in this time, trying to convince me that it was all a fool’s errand, that I have not been chasing a reality but rather a slim fantasy. The psychological war I have been waging has not been fought in vain however as I remain convicted of the validity of discovering who this man is. One who’s sight can chill the bone.

 And so I wait, I have been trying to discern whether or not they will let me go of their own volition. Though it seems improbable that they will believe the possession has left me completely. Perhaps my amicable disposition will implore them to release me. I can only hope that it does not lead them in the other direction. I am not a fan of burning to death.

Though the last few days have accounted of no knowledge to speak of, I have had some success even lying here. I managed to convince the head spellcaster to let me write a letter. After placing an enchanter’s block on the paper, he bayed me write. I wrote a letter to the dwarven city asking permission to enter their libraries and after doing so sent it out with a messenger as quickly as possible. I do not expect a quick response as the dwarves are sluggish with their public relations. I hope to appeal to their sense of history and if nothing else to their curiosity about the existence and ramifications of Soriel Daw.

No matter what the case, I refuse to stay here much longer. Up to this point it has been beneficial to my own body. But I will not remain when so much is yet to be discovered in my quest. If I cannot convince them in some manner or another that I am of my own mind, then I will forcibly remove myself with what small magic I posses. Surely, if I set the place on fire, they will have to remove me from my quarters.