I thought my creativity to be dull and rotted from an exhaustive cycle of self-doubt—my pen hand trembling over the paper at every attempt to overcome the cloud that fogged my vision. "Where are you?" I called to myself. A younger Goldclaw stands at a pier. And I, his muse—an established writer and absolutely magnificent—float in the opposite direction on a drifting raft. I watch as my hopeful, younger aura fades into the fog... Kippo has rejected my latest manuscript, "The Eternal Alchemy of My Heart," and instead has proposed I write a sequel to "Destiny's Pledge." Is that what our world has fallen to...? Is my novel work not exciting enough? Unripe, certainly, but... I can't humor the thought, or I'll never scribe again. I've informed Kippo that I am taking a writing retreat. Me, myself, my thoughts, and a well-stocked collection of paper and smoked meats will begin our journey in Divinity's Reach and march northward. —Snargle Goldclaw