Alaia's Shoebox

[Alaia]

Alaia's shoe box full of notes to self, letters and scrap drawings. Warning: Notes may be placed inside shoe box out of order.

[Elias Caldera]

Alaia, I pray you can forgive the poor condition of this letter and the shakiness of my penmanship. In truth, it was difficult simply bringing myself to purchase the parchment I now write upon, let alone undergo the daunting task of putting to paper the sullen words I now must. I bear grim news that has been left cruelly unannounced for too long. Raina did not receive your last letter, dear healer, for she could not. My mother is dead. She perished during the Storm more than a year ago now. We were at sea at the time and the unnatural fury of waves simply grew too much for our vessel to withstand. Admittedly, I have crumpled and smothered out again this same sheet of paper nearly half a dozen times as I debated whether or not to send a reply. In the end I would be remiss to say I do not remember you though. Our talk is something I still remember fondly, and as such I felt you deserved more than dreadful silence and unanswered questions. By the informal tone you took in your last correspondence, I see now you and her shared something beyond your short meeting on the docks that I had not recognized before. I hope this to be the case as it would bring me a great measure of comfort to know, however distant, she still had a friend in the end. It was because of her that I was able to survive the wreck, but my wounds were still terrible. I remained bed ridden for the better part of the following year as I recuperated, but now that I am fit enough to write, I am fit enough to travel. I must prepare myself for the long journey north, as I intend to return home to Ravok. I fear however, my last encounter with the ocean has, and will continue, to mar the idea of sailing for me for quite some time I suspect. Your island was indeed an enlightening experience, however short it may have been, and it is a shame I will not be able to visit it once again. I must bring this letter to a close. The wound on my arm still bothers me greatly and my hand rebels in tandem, trembling with a ferocity beyond my ability to sooth it. I will say this in closing however, I truly appreciate the kindness you showed to us so many years ago, and I find myself indebted to you again for your continued graciousness through your letters to her. I am sure your words were a great comfort. To my shame I have not the words nor the means to properly show my gratitude, but I will try none the less. Thank you - Elias

[Alaia]

Drawings by Alaia 9th of Summer, 514 AV - Adney Tempest

[Elias Caldera]

Dear Alaia, It is the 21st day of Spring as I write this letter to you, I hope it reaches its destination in a timely fashion, as we are in fact, much closer now than we previously were. I have indeed arrived in Ravok alive and intact for the most part. The journey here was taxing and far from painless, but I was able to take a great deal of comfort during those arduous days in the wilds whenever I managed to find the time I could to look at the drawing you sent me. Your skills are exceptional madam healer, I am truly impressed and touched by your gift. I see now however, where my mother's sudden fascination in my own talent for drawing stemmed from. In fact, as I read your letter I began to realize where a great deal of her odd and unexplainable new behaviors originated from. I'm not sure if you've had the pleasure of tasting baked squid alamode, but I have ma'am, and it seems I have you to thank for that. I may enjoy our correspondence mistress Alaia, but I'm uncertain if I can forgive you for the culinary nightmares I was regularly subjected do as my mother dabbled and experimented with the new found passion for cooking your words no doubt instilled in her. Perhaps with time, and some more of your stunning artwork, we'll see if I can bring myself to absolve you of your good natured crimes against my pallet. In all seriousness, I arrived nearly a week ago now. I thought to write you sooner, but things have been hectic and confusing for me here. There was a riot not a few bells after I initially landed on the docks, some demonstration gone awry I hear. A fire broke out and I. for whatever reason, foolishly took it upon myself to battle the thing with not but my bullheadedness and a small bit of magic to see me through the duel. I spent the rest of the night and a sizable portion of the next morning continuing that fight all around the city as the flames and protests spread. Well today, you might be amazed to learn that I am now officially employed as a 'fire fighter' for the city. No, you did not read that wrong, and yes your reaction at this point is likely the same as mine when I was first offered the position. It is surprisingly good money I will say that at least, something I thought I would need to gather a great deal of for after the funeral, as I did not plan to stay long in its aftermath. A naive and foolish notion I now know. With hesitance, I will admit I nearly wept when I saw my home upon the lake grow into focus upon the horizon. For the first time in years it truly dawned on me how terrible an ache within my heart I had for the embrace of my homeland and my kinsman. The short time I have spent here has been uncomfortable and harrowing for the most part, but the idea of ever leaving my city again now seems such a mad and ridiculous one Its impossible to even consider it anymore. I think now that I am back, I confidently say I intend to stay, regardless of what shadows may loom over my last leaving. I saw my father as well I should add. He has grown old and powerful since I last saw him, and he was not pleased to see me. I think however, the fury in his heart at the sight of his son was shunted by the weight of loss I brought into our old house within that urn. I have left my mother's ashes in his care for the time being as we await arrangements for her ceremony. It is a somber but deeply respectful thing, Ravokian burials. She will be cast out upon the water on a gilded ravosala, whereupon the fires we set will slowly sink it into the Ravok's embrace, allowing her to finally become a part of the lake she adored so much. She told me once that was what she wanted after she passed, and I feel she would be happy in the end with the ceremony, knowing the both of us had made it back in the end. I will miss her dearly, but if there was anything she thought me, it was not to dwell on the past. I hope my sullen words have not become a burden to you. I'd hate to think such dark and dire things will damper your day after reading them, but I felt you would like to know what will become of her. I also pray any earlier exposure to my earlier troubles has also not put you off. It is an odd sensation, so readily revealing such intimate things to another. Perhaps it is the insurmountable distance between us that brings me such confidence in writing like this, or maybe it is the fact that I do believe the heartwarming sincerity of your good will towards me and Raina. In any case, I feel that I would very much look forward to any further letters between the two of us. Consider it the first step on your long road of making it up to me for all the years of my mother's dreadful cooking I had to endure. Respectfully yours, - Elias Caldera

[Alaia]

Notes to Self Don't forget to go find Kavala and talk to her before setting sail Don't fret the small things Learn to let go and have fun!

[Elias Caldera]

Dear Alaia, All jesting aside madam healer, I plead you reconsider your decision on leaving Riverfall so hastily. I hope this will reach you in time, as it is imperative to me that you take heed of my warning before you depart the safety of the city. I know little of Kenash save for what I overhear the slavers speak of, but I do mean to alarm you when I say that even Ravok, for all its bluster and influence over the timeless trade, is seemingly overshadowed at times by that of the thriving enterprise the Kenashians have established for themselves in the southern marshlands. I fear a Konti such as yourself, and pardon my brashness, but also someone who has admitted to being so inexperienced in travel and the harshness of the world outside, would only end up becoming a ripe target for hunters or bandits before even making it near the city gates. We all have our roles in this life, and by the sound of things, yours is better served healing the ill and injured, not the personal whims of some petulant swamp lord. Forgive the bluntness of my words, mistress, I only seek to see you safe and sound as you once sought the same for me, and so I will continue to insist upon caution, regardless of however boring such a fate may seem at the time. I bear these ominous words not only because of what I suspect you might discover upon arriving at your destination, but also because of what you’re likely to run afoul of during your journey there. In startling hindsight, I admit that I myself have spent an exorbitant amount of time traversing the wilderness during my trips to and from Ravok. As I may have implied before, they were difficult to say the least, and not just because of the insects or the fatiguing weather. Raiders and beasts of unimaginable monstrosity have a troubling tendency to lurk in the tall grass and shady hollows along every path. In Zeltiva, I took up the study of the arcane arts at the University dedicated to such things there. Reimancy in particular became my forte as the years went on -that’s the ability to conjure and control the elements, mind you- and it was this magic, along with my training as an apprentice, that helped me and the people I traveled with survive the cruelties we often stumbled across in the wilds. I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen a Zith, or encountered a swarm of those vile creatures falling down upon your head with claws and fangs, bloody and bared for your throat, but I pray you never have to. A fireball can make quick work of most threats however, as they and I quickly learned, but I do try and avoid open talk of magical things simply because of how poorly most people receive it, so if I’ve somehow made it sound bland or dreadfully dull in anyway, know that is just me and my lack of flare in speaking on such manners, not the magic itself. I can say at least, that it was through another discipline of djed that I adopted my inclination towards drawing. My work is more… purposed and lifelessly designed towards a singular goal because of this however. It is not at all entertaining or even artistic for that matter, as a real artist’s would be. Certainly not like what you can do with your brush or pencil, that’s for certain. I may not have many –or any- wondrous tales of magic to share with you, but I am pleased to announce that I have at least returned to my studies here in Ravok. Another institute of higher learning like the one in Zeltiva. Though I would not dare to say this out loud lest I irrevocably bruise the mighty egos that wander its dark halls, it is far less… grand or comprehensive than that of the Zeltivans’. Regardless, I am still quite thrilled to discover my learning has yet to cease. I am a magecrafter you see, like a blacksmith, but instead of fires and the forge, I use magic and djed itself to birth my creations. You’ve likely come across a magecrafted item in the past no doubt, something unexplainably powerful and great. A sword of incredible sharpness, a lamp that never falters. There are numerous possibilities when it comes to the shaping of djed, and I take great pride in my work. So much so that I often find myself dreaming of days when the name Caldera is one remembered with as much reverence and respect as Aleesa Tallshade’s, the greatest magesmith in the history of the two empires of old. Arrogant and foolish, I know, and not so different to the dreams I once had of being the greatest warrior in the Ebonstryfe either. I think that when I left behind my life as one of the city’s chosen, I lost more than just my home, I lost the the very thing that had defined me since I first drew breath. I arrived in Zeltiva a bitter and angry youth, and while your words still restrained much of what I felt boiling up inside me, not even the gentle wisdom of a Konti paragon or my mother’s firm guidance could stop it all from bubbling over. I was aimless for a long time, aimless and angry. Without the black armor adorning my shoulders, without that weight of responsibility and the intrinsic power that came along with it, I wasn’t sure what I was meant to do anymore, or even if I still deserved to… live. It was magic and its stumbling pursuit that finally delivered unto me a direction for my idle wants and needs to follow. At first it was just a distraction, a curiosity to take my mind off what I no longer had. But as the years went on and I came to realize the glory and beauty of it all, it eventually became my passion and I think my salvation as well. If anything, I am certain that to become a greater mage is what I would look forward to the most. I can do more with the arcane for my city and my people than I ever could with a bloody sword in my hand. The only problem is finding out what it is I’m meant to do. Your ability to heal is unlike anything the mortal arts of can offer. My glyphing –the drawings I spoke of earlier- and even my magecrafting could both harness that benevolent gift, but these are temporary and impractical things, not at all what I seek. For the time being, all I can do now is continue fighting fires and devoting myself to the studies of magecrafting. One day soon, I hope I can find the place where both my paths as a loyal servant to Ravok and as ambitious mage may converge. Until then, I will not sit idle and remain content to wait for that day to be laid out at my feet however. I will, and I must, act if ever I intend to see my lot in life change the way I want it to. The way it is meant to. Perhaps I was wrong to try and deny you the adventure you crave. Perhaps we both deserve better in some way, we just need to find it. -Your friend in the North, Elias P.S: In the unfortunate event that you do run across slavers or even Zith, don't panic. I suggest standing your ground and serving them some of the dishes you taught your other victims how to cook. I imagine they'll be begging you for mercy by supper time.