The Vigiles Amicae is a roleplaying guild in Everquest 2, on the Freeport and Antonia Bayle Servers.

Monday, January 30, 2012

To Worship Bristlebane - An Authoritative Guide

This is a guide to services held in honor of the greatest God, he who is of the slightest of hand, drunkard among drunks, Bristlebane.
This guide is complete and unabridged, with slight modifications to help the uninitiated better understand our ways.

            The author of this work, Folodu Amrunrosse, has gone to great lengths to ensure this is factual in all parts, except the time when the goblins actually did something right. All named for that incident have been changed because we were not actually there for it, and had to make something up. All mentions of people either living or dead are most likely true recountings, unless they aren't. Reader discretion is advised on page two.

      In order to best serve our great God, we must first have several key components arraged. These include, but by are no means limited to: a bottle of Halasian Whiskey which shall from here on be called Communal; a firestarter, preferably in mage-form; a sacrificial goat; one frozen trout, thawed; one set dice, loaded; Hat of Officiation; Gavel of Forewarning.

      In to begin, you must get your fellowship, assuming you have one, together, preferably with some prior notice. It must be noted that the group must decide on who will arrive last, and ensure that they have been given not only the wrong directions but also the wrong time. Giving the wrong day is just bad form.
     When the last person arrives, they are required to pull a prank on the first arriving member - the group cannot assist pointing out who that is, lest the skill of the last be called into question. The prank must be pulled off during some point in the meeting.
      The first order of business is to read the Minutes, but no one ever listens and the waterclock has been acting up lately anyways. Since Step One must always be missed, we must proceed on to Step Three, the sharing of the Communal Whiskey.
      Once everyone has had a glass of whiskey, except for Farmer Bijot who has started drinking at dawn again, the group shares the recent pranks they have done. Sound effects and props are not necessary, but are appreciated.
      The Fourth Order of Business is the passing of the Collection Plate. It is generally accepted that everyone will try the usual theft, but there are times when someone has an idea to share, such as stealing the theft from the neighbor preceeding them. It is considered bad manners to steal the collection plate itself. So far, Friggle Raxxiton has the record of stealing the collection-plate-bearer, who has not been seen since. When asked, Friggle only smiles like a fox. On incidents like this, the Communal Whiskey is passed around in congratulations.
      The next order of business is Step Two: sharing the whiskey, which by now is fairly communal. From this point, the meetings tend to devolve into either hysterics or stories. It is considered ill mannered to not egg the other members on. At this point, weapons are confiscated and fighting is prohibited - not like anyone listens anyways. When everyone calms down, the Officiant releases the sacrificial goat, no one really recalling why it was brought in the first place. Plans are made for the Next Big Prank. These are usually forgotten in the after-meeting torpor and nap.
    Since there has not been a Secretary or Writing Utensil brought since the disaster when the ink got spilled, everyone tries to commit the Minutes from the meeting to memory. Another round is shared communally and the meeting is adjourned, usually to be completed in the street when the Militia tends to arrest the members for being drunk in public - also, naked. In Lucan's fountain.

    Folodu Amrunrosse

The Goblin incident Is Not To Be Mentioned.
That is all.

Friday, January 6, 2012

A plain, red-spined book - Apocryphal Journals: Folodu Amrunrosse

Archivist's note:
It is clear from contemporary records that Amrunrosse was fastidious about keeping her journals on her person or otherwise well secured, yet in the recent reorganization of the archive we have found loose signatures tucked among unrelated treatises on the applied arts of entropy as relates to the keeping of vegetable gardens in various climates.
Each is no more than eight pages of vellum, stitched with waxed linen thread and apparently in good condition, aside from having been at some point separated from the rest of its volume. The handwriting appears to be consistent from one entry to the next, though there are huge swaths of the work still missing.
What remains has been bound together in a probable chronology, and wrapper leaves were added around each original signature to hold such notation as is possible. The entries are undated in the original hand, but as many of the incidents are cross-referenced in the public archives, so a loose chronology may be posited.

The following entry appears to have been set down towards the end of the Shadow Age, and the discovery of the Velian continent. The author - if we can be at all confident it is a genuine memoir - would suggest that the Vigiles were operating in their current form rather earlier than was previously thought by reputable historians.

It has been some time since I kept one of these. I hope to do it more justice than my previous ones.

Cheva ran off several months ago – I must be more specific in the future. “Playing in the harbor” does not mean the ships in the harbor, and certainly not taking said ships in the harbor. The girl reminds me far too much of myself. She was lucky and landed in Gorowyn, finding my dark Lady, my mentor Sytan, and Valacor. I, of course, landed on the wrong end of the world trying to find her, got in a shipwreck, and tracked all over the tundra for very little purpose, except for finding someone who had seen her. I left the barren chunk of ice immediately, my informant and an ally in the search in tow.

The informant was attached to my dark Lady’s house, the Vigiles Amicae. He was a Fier of savage disposition, as the classic thought goes. I am much indebted to him. It is unfortunate that he has run afoul of Marcanis. I am glad there is a mind I have only come in contact with briefly. Terrifying. I would lend my services, if they are asked, but at the present it would be far too challenging to disengage from my current assignment to see to him. He is a decent boy, if young. His sister is a hothead, however, and will bring ruin to everyone. I am intrigued at her unique physique, but the personality is unstable enough to give more than a few warning signs.

I have pledged myself to the Amicae as a soldier – I am greatly pleased to have a family to serve again, but I am more certain in myself now, and will watch for the warning signs that lead to leaving the Circuli. I will not allow a tyrant in my sphere again. My dark Lady has shown no signs to being like that, but the vigil will not be abandoned. Unfortunately, rank will mean a degree of separation that I will probably be unable to work around. I will miss her company and companionship, and expect that we will be strained to even be friends, but I will try my best – it is all I can do. I love her and miss her. I will serve her as I promised, and help the house be great in all the ways I can find.

I have recently been promoted to lead a squad. I have heard very little about any of them, so I will be giving them each an assignment to test for their level of competency as they report for duty – which unfortunately is somewhat slowed by my needing to be on the current assignment I am on. I hope they are lead well by Vanside while the units are equipped for the mission. I wish to become better acquainted with her during this time so I can make sure those under my care are taken care of as best I can provide, given the circumstances. I hope also to have good relations with her as a friend – I am not sure how well that will work. We are very different in our approach to life and work, and she does grate on me in her own way. I had some custom corsetry and gowns made to replace my older, antiquated ones. Having a weapon easily to hand is the most reassuring thing I can hope for, even if I cannot carry my normal blades openly. Luddicia is quite talented at meeting the needs I had.

I think the vampires of the house might be cause for concern. They are more paranoid even than I, and seem to be asking questions to try to intentionally make people uncomfortable. I know it is their way, but I cannot fathom why they try to antagonize so much. Perhaps it is just the wish to make us stronger, but right now is not a good time – but when is it ever really?

I have left Cheva in the care of Sytan while I am on assignment. She is growing so fast, and is far too much like me. I hope she grows out of some of her habits, and I must find way to apologize to Sytan for what I put him through. I never did say I was sorry about stabbing him that first time…

I cannot understand where Cheva got the idea of wanting to be a Knight of Great Virtue. Not that she wants to hear what a knight needs or should be, but I think I have found she is very fond of stories of knights. I will have to invent some that have the lessons she needs to know. I miss her and love her with all my heart. One day, I must find a way to tell her of her father – she would be enamored of the stories of him, I think. I miss him, too, but the bite is no longer so hard.

I am glad, in a way that I saw him long enough to ensure he was settled with a new partner. Once I got over my own wants and desires, I found that I wanted him to be happy, and really wanted to be the one to make him so. I am glad, again for my adopted sister, whom helped by loving him, too. I have not much to say on her, given it has been years and she has never sought me out.

I have a new life, and dwelling on the old can only get me so far. And besides, I have the greatest part of the relationship to Xil in Chevanima. I learned from the wolf-mother that the time is precious – I will never understand why she opted to give it up, and I will never make that mistake. She is mine to raise and love, and damn anyone who tries to get in the way of that!

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

A crumbling, stained letter

Archivist's Note:

This private letter is an exceptionally rare survival from the period, and it was discovered in a volume of mythic wondertales during the recent reorganization of the archive. It has long been suspected that the anonymous, handwritten manuscripts of wondertales were once part of the private collection of the Praetor, but the attribution pages have been lost in one of the re-bindings, as the signatures were never well-sewn to begin with. 
There are no provenance records for the series of manuscripts, which themselves are only of minimal interest, written as they are to make history more palatable to the uneducated. Nonetheless, the presence of the following letter - which appears to be genuine - seems to support the idea that those manuscripts may have been the property of the Praetor, and suggests they may be worth re-examining for further historical importance.
A transcript of the letter follows below, translated from the levua, as the original document must remain protected from light and handling. It has aged badly as a result of some acid contamination in its past, and the transcription is as faithful to the original text as possible. Every effort has been made to preserve the agitation and passion of the author, which is so clearly visible in the hand.

Dearest Ariahdnia,

I write this letter with no real direction.

These last few months have been more difficult then I would like to admit. When you asked me to help you forget - I knew I was going to regret it. There has been so little in the past that I would have wanted you to remember that made it to that book of yours, and I'm afraid to know what has passed that never did.

I'll admit when we first met, your charge would have been just: you were nothing more then food. Now - I wouldn't think of you as anything less then a friend and lover.

I admit I have held you further away then most, there are [unintelligible] things I've done that I'm not proud of - - some to those you may know [an inkblot, possibly an omission] some to you. In time I may share all of it with you - but at my own pace. The last time you died - - - I watched everything I had worked to earn with you die with it.

 How much of us you have recorded is beyond me. Honestly - - I may never know. I only know that you trust me less than y[unintelligible: likely, "you"] out[unintelligible: possible "outwardly" but may be untranslated ekete'uan] show, despite our past - - and - again-! -I will strive to change that.

I no longer wish to remain a trusted friend and ally. I wish more than midnight visits and deceptive respects[sic: clearly an allusion, but the context is now lost]. Our last night together was one of many passionate and cherished nights together for me - and I can only hope you feel the same way when I say that I hope there will be many - many more to follow.

Always watching, Always waiting.
~Valacor Valinos

Sunday, January 1, 2012

An anonymous letter, preserved with envelope

Archivist's note:
This letter is a curious survival from an era of widespread civil unrest in the most populous cities. It was discovered in the pages of a quaint, archaic treatise on the art of the sword. Although the envelope was badly torn at some point and the return address - if it ever sported one - is now lost, the letter was carefully refolded inside the abused envelope and left in the middle of a rather inventive description of the process of fashioning watered steel, where it was recently uncovered.

Contemporary records do not mention whether the expedition to Antonica was undertaken - with or without escort. Other, later records seem to indicate that the Mysterious patron "M" continued to send secret correspondence to the young Amrunrosse with little interference or discovery for many years after this date, but until the discovery of this letter, it was thought that the correspondence began late in her adolescence, during the absence of her primary guardian.

It is worth noting, however, that in the historical armory the Vigiles do have a pair of mithral boots worked up in a traditional dwarven pattern at an unusually delicate size. Although the attribution in the official provenance is "unknown", the discovery of this early correspondence would suggest that they may well have belonged to the young Amrunrosse.

Addressed to:

The Valorous Chevanima Amrunrosse
Timorous Heights, Vigiles Wing
Gorowyn Upper Prefect, Timorous Isles, Kunark

     In regards to your recent success and your excellent skills, a dwarf requests your specialized presence. He has work - that is surely simplicity itself for such a skilled knight as I have recommended on this particular job. I am most interested in supporting your rise to wider glory, despite the conservative opinions of your other tutors, so I pray you will continue to regard me as your most humble patron.

     This task will require dedication, fortitude, and a level head, as well as skill in harvesting various materials in the Antonican hills. The employer is a dwarf known as Hwal in the Keep of the Ardent Needle in the same region. He is willing to pay handsomely for your services.

     Again, neither assistance nor escort is necessary, as your skills are more than adequate to do this.

Go in strength,

     Yours & etc.