Peros 6, 15027
Abraham paced up and down the small study. In his hand he twirled a small, blue crystal. "Cursed thing," he thought to himself. "Almost unlimited potential in the palm of my hand, and it can't even find it's way home." Bitterly, he strode over to the table of notes, glanced up at the pins on the wall. Papers, writing, images, maps, and thread all connected in a way that would be meaningless to anyone else. And still no answers. In a sudden burst of rage, Abraham gripped the edges of the small table and overturned it, sending ink and paper flying.
Turning, he threw the crystal as hard as he could against the wall. "THERE'S NO ANSWERS!" he yelled.
The scientist in him reasoned that there had to be an answer. Everything came and went from somewhere, and existence was not even a question. It was merely a matter of direction, but he'd tried nearly everything he could think of. His latest gamble had nearly cost him his life as he had wandered through the desert, using a compass with a needle made of a sliver of a Sand Crystal. The blasted thing had merely spun with the wind, yet he had followed it for days, until his water had run out and his food was gone. If it hadn't been for a lucky stumble across a caravan, he'd have been a dead man.
Dropping to his knees, Abraham let out a choking sob. Was he ever to find what he was looking for? To be able to put to rest his demons?
It was then that he heard a knock on his door. Quickly, he stood and composed himself. "Who is it?" he asked.
"Jereth, sir, the messenger you hired? You said I was to meet you by midnight tonight or I'd not get paid?" The voice was seedy, but hopeful at the prospect of coin.
"I suppose that all depends on whether or not you've brought me any news," Abraham responded, opening the door. In front of him stood a weasely looking gnome, dressed for skulking. "You know that your clients normally call upon you and yours for service that brings results. And I'll ask politely once: What news do you have?"
The gnome gave a snaggletooth grin before handing a sealed envelope over. "You can check the seal on that'n there, I didn't even peek, and that's on my honor."
"You're lying, but that's not too unusual," Abraham responded. Breaking the seal, he pulled out the small piece of parchment. A date, a time, a place.
Pulling out a pouch of marks, Abraham weighed it and eyed Jereth. "Tell me," he said, "How fast can one make it to Sussuria?"