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.
This entry is unusually brief for the bardic-trained Amrunrosse, especially in light of her extensive, longwinded reports during the Velian Exile. The doubts seeded during the era of her usurption have long been considered to have flourished in the solitude of her exile. The tone of her entries immediately following her recall to a more closely supervised position in Maj'Dul would seem to confirm this.
Fafnier is among us again, and quite hale and healthy. He has not spoken of the broken engagement. When pressed, he refused to speak of it. I get the feeling he cares, and yet is too proud to admit it.
Cheva will be thrilled to see him, though she is yet on her way to the sands.
It looks less drear, and yet.
I found him returned not long before he ordered my assistance in going to Freeport and fixing the status of his death back to living.
We disembarked our ship only to immediately encounter the Knights on patrol. As is standard, they wished to see our papers. Fafnier, having already not listened to reason and changing his documents in Gorowyn, started making demands for pleasantries.
Now it is on me if he catches their attention. Arquenniel was quite clear on that. Fafnier should have known better, and could not keep his mouth shut. He wanted to claim his own actions for himself. He does not understand how tyranny works.
It is endearing and foolish.
After, he admitted he wished Lucan to know he is returned - he would not explain why.
And then asked me to find a link between Andrejja and Marconis. Already, I am called to bring suspicion on the House. Is this all my name is worth now? As an agent against our own?
It cannot be borne.
I told him I will do no such thing until such time as the Praetor clears it.
Showing posts with label Journal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Journal. Show all posts
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Saturday, March 1, 2014
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.
This entry is unusually brief for the bardic-trained Amrunrosse, especially in light of her extensive, longwinded reports during the Velian Exile. The doubts seeded during the era of her usurption have long been considered to have flourished in the solitude of her exile. The tone of her entries immediately following her recall to a more closely supervised position in Maj'Dul would seem to confirm this.
It has been a hand of days since I have been given my new home. Already I have been called to Odus for opening relations with the Hua Mein, and have met the newly assigned Chief Medic.
On that note, I am to expect more of the same - I am to submit to the hands of the medical corps so that all my bodily secrets join all if my intrigues in the light of day.
My daughter has again run off, and taken a new 'pet' despite having her current tutor with her. She has befriended a sucker again, and this one unknown.
No one wanted to say she was missing at all - it is only due to a country bumpkin that I know at all.
The maps I have long tended may soon be obsolete. I desire to know how to use and create in this new and magical format, as the ones by my hand are not quite up to use in the field unless you are an army, and yet.
I feel so extraneous.
What is left of my life? I have nearly no connection at all anymore.
Ari is working so hard to integrate me back, which is why I am in Odus. I just cannot see past my pain right now.
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.
This entry is unusually brief for the bardic-trained Amrunrosse, especially in light of her extensive, longwinded reports during the Velian Exile. The doubts seeded during the era of her usurption have long been considered to have flourished in the solitude of her exile. The tone of her entries immediately following her recall to a more closely supervised position in Maj'Dul would seem to confirm this.
It has been a hand of days since I have been given my new home. Already I have been called to Odus for opening relations with the Hua Mein, and have met the newly assigned Chief Medic.
On that note, I am to expect more of the same - I am to submit to the hands of the medical corps so that all my bodily secrets join all if my intrigues in the light of day.
My daughter has again run off, and taken a new 'pet' despite having her current tutor with her. She has befriended a sucker again, and this one unknown.
No one wanted to say she was missing at all - it is only due to a country bumpkin that I know at all.
The maps I have long tended may soon be obsolete. I desire to know how to use and create in this new and magical format, as the ones by my hand are not quite up to use in the field unless you are an army, and yet.
I feel so extraneous.
What is left of my life? I have nearly no connection at all anymore.
Ari is working so hard to integrate me back, which is why I am in Odus. I just cannot see past my pain right now.
Thursday, August 16, 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.
This entry is unusually candid, for Amrunrosse.
It is usually advised that the student of history take her offered chronology and editorial commentary with a hearty grain of salt - but unlike most of her narratives, this passage has a rather narrow focus. In all the records we have of her hand, public and private, there is every evidence of a profound sense of her own centrality to events - and in this one, her tone is unusually sober.
Like most of the bardic-trained, it does seem she was drawn into many of the pivotal events of her time. In this particular reflection she seems to have at least briefly gained a greater sense of perspective on her own involvement - and the inevitable consequences of her political meddling.
Nonetheless, this morose account is interesting to the student of history, as it reveals an unusually deep admiration for the contemporary Lady Commander Arquenniel Tinwe'sa of the Freeport Militia's elite Third Brigade.
The weight of her mantle is great. Not that she has made it any easier.
Ari is far more coherent than she has been in some time. She also spits acid and makes a great amount of extra effort on us all. I should have had her struck down in the depths of the D’Vinn stronghold as I had planned.
She needed the rest, and now, so do I.
What am I come to? She is my dearest friend - I do not deserve it. She seems to have to greater peace on why I did what I did, though I do not.
I have given her the only gift I can, right now. We have her beloved. He is ready. I can finally give the authorization for his resurrection.
May it bring her peace.
Arquenniel.
There is a complicated topic. I cannot fathom why I brought up the glass powder-poisoned rum. I suppose I must like her, and I also wanted to illustrate that information is key...and I think I utterly failed and now have to watch my step even more than usual. Even so, that was a fool move. I put a lot of faith in our acquaintanceship, and being useful to them.
I do not know how long I can survive in Freeport after this.
I owe Lucan for having a place to call home, and while I accept work for any who will pay and who doesn’t offend me...this is different. This is actual treason. Damn Fafnier anyways! If he had listened, he and his people wouldn’t have been killed, and I wouldn’t have tried to find ways to bring some sort of attack back home. And it wasn’t even her fault! It was his! I like her. I don’t know how this will go.
Were circumstances different, we could probably be very good friends. But she is a Knight, and that is what it is. I think she has no idea the history they had - how Pallidmortis ran it...
He is free again. Loose in the world, and making trouble for Freeport. I have heard nothing on him yet, though I have exchanged my time behind bars to be on call when they take him.
I hope she listens. I hope she sifts through all of the records. Old contacts are a valuable thing to a tyrant. Old friends can very easily be current friends. She needs to identify these people. I would do this, but...it is what it is.
I miss my normal duties. I miss gathering information. I miss having the ability to love those in my heart. How can I relax, when the duties are always so demanding?
I will continue to hold myself apart. Not much longer.
It is nearly time to pass the mantle back.
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.
This entry is unusually candid, for Amrunrosse.
It is usually advised that the student of history take her offered chronology and editorial commentary with a hearty grain of salt - but unlike most of her narratives, this passage has a rather narrow focus. In all the records we have of her hand, public and private, there is every evidence of a profound sense of her own centrality to events - and in this one, her tone is unusually sober.
Like most of the bardic-trained, it does seem she was drawn into many of the pivotal events of her time. In this particular reflection she seems to have at least briefly gained a greater sense of perspective on her own involvement - and the inevitable consequences of her political meddling.
Nonetheless, this morose account is interesting to the student of history, as it reveals an unusually deep admiration for the contemporary Lady Commander Arquenniel Tinwe'sa of the Freeport Militia's elite Third Brigade.
The weight of her mantle is great. Not that she has made it any easier.
Ari is far more coherent than she has been in some time. She also spits acid and makes a great amount of extra effort on us all. I should have had her struck down in the depths of the D’Vinn stronghold as I had planned.
She needed the rest, and now, so do I.
What am I come to? She is my dearest friend - I do not deserve it. She seems to have to greater peace on why I did what I did, though I do not.
I have given her the only gift I can, right now. We have her beloved. He is ready. I can finally give the authorization for his resurrection.
May it bring her peace.
Arquenniel.
There is a complicated topic. I cannot fathom why I brought up the glass powder-poisoned rum. I suppose I must like her, and I also wanted to illustrate that information is key...and I think I utterly failed and now have to watch my step even more than usual. Even so, that was a fool move. I put a lot of faith in our acquaintanceship, and being useful to them.
I do not know how long I can survive in Freeport after this.
I owe Lucan for having a place to call home, and while I accept work for any who will pay and who doesn’t offend me...this is different. This is actual treason. Damn Fafnier anyways! If he had listened, he and his people wouldn’t have been killed, and I wouldn’t have tried to find ways to bring some sort of attack back home. And it wasn’t even her fault! It was his! I like her. I don’t know how this will go.
Were circumstances different, we could probably be very good friends. But she is a Knight, and that is what it is. I think she has no idea the history they had - how Pallidmortis ran it...
He is free again. Loose in the world, and making trouble for Freeport. I have heard nothing on him yet, though I have exchanged my time behind bars to be on call when they take him.
I hope she listens. I hope she sifts through all of the records. Old contacts are a valuable thing to a tyrant. Old friends can very easily be current friends. She needs to identify these people. I would do this, but...it is what it is.
I miss my normal duties. I miss gathering information. I miss having the ability to love those in my heart. How can I relax, when the duties are always so demanding?
I will continue to hold myself apart. Not much longer.
It is nearly time to pass the mantle back.
Monday, August 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.
This entry wrestles primarily with events which occurred at least a full season, if not a year, prior to the writing of this passage. Given other evidence of daily memorandum books, it is possible that Amrunrosse had a longstanding habit of enlarging her record of current events only after she had some distance from them.
It has also been suggested that her bardic training led her to delay the fleshing out of her records until she felt there was a suitably compelling narrative to drive the composition. The well-documented confrontation with Thrayson and Valinos was undoubtedly even more compelling at the time, and would have appeared at that time to offer a poetic circularity when contrasted with the repudiation of the Stormharrow alliance.
Contemporary records of the military actions during the Cel'Voda campaign are relatively intact, and the ally and slave mentioned in this passage are widely understood to have been Naccor Stormharrow and his koada' servant Wynteri, respectively. During this period, Naccor had paid for a commission in the Vigiles infantry for his younger brother, Malicce Stormharrow of Neriak, and records of the time suggest he was more interested in his brother's education and training than the boy himself was, and the friction between the brothers spilled over into the Cel'Voda campaign.
It seems reasonable to conclude that cultural assumptions were made on the part of both the Stormharrow boys and the Vigiles High Command, which came out in the crucible of this protracted campaign. The schism that resulted did entangle the Vigiles briefly in a diplomatic dispute with the elder Stormharrow's adopted House, the infamous trade empire of Shaded Lotus.
Detailed records of the resolution remain classified, but it is hoped that some of the more historically interesting reports will be de-classified in the near future, especially as Amrunrosse clearly believed that both events in this passage were deeply linked.
I do not know what to say. Perhaps the beginning of the thing is the only place to start.
The Priestess Chryso has returned to our midst. It was hard, having to drive her off to begin with, and it hurt another who had befriended her: Little Chryslinger, who has lost all and fights her void-lost twin. She still feels very much for her old unit, though she tells me she is not trying to rebuild. She asks me questions, I suppose trying to figure out how well I would fit their number, or to get a better idea of who I am.
House first. Always the needs of the House.
I don’t know how well she has understood that, but we will all be confronted with that, now.
We marched on the dragon Cel’Voda to recover our Lost, Xeita. We found evidence that our other, the Legate, had been there briefly. Xeita confirmed this. When we got her back, I gated out with Xeita and a smaller strike force aimed for the heart of Cel’Voda’s lair.
There, a false corpse was found, as well as a skull burning with arcana at least three days old. The dragon himself, however, is truly dead. Someone was there before us. I cannot believe anything else but that Marconis is behind this.
During this, our ally brought danger to us all when his slave knelt to them in the field. They do not want to see how this was risking their life by pointing out one of note in the field of battle.
I remember the Cel'Voda clan from before the civil war, and on my recommendation the Legate had us all march in Indigo livery, without insignia. It is an echo of a dusty past, when one house would make war on another, and provide just enough distraction that the law could plausibly ignore the action as one approved by a Power higher than theirs.
He is to young - or too poorly read! - to know the rigid conventions of that old custom.
He wants to argue her usefulness? Feh. He will not be able to accompany us any further in the field. I have purchased the slave he got bored with, so I hope his new one has all the discretion he demands of those around him.
Whatever else may befall, the issue is closed.
During that time, one approached seeking aid. I must speak with with them more fully as there is time. This gets at the heart of another issue, and I am very much inclined to sow dissention and have the brunt of the work done. I have taken the meager information to the Knights already, and will be taking more as I can get it.
I hate working with them, and feel like there is a trap about to close about me. I must step carefully.
All of these events have happened around Ari. The issue I have avoided so far...
She has been becoming less coherent, jumping around her personal history and not being very coherent in the present. I noticed this a few months ago, but her ability to lead was still intact. That has deteriorated, culminating in last night.
She was distraught when Sytan was taken: I do not know if that is what drives her from her mind now.
Last night, the Chief Medical Officer was shown how to feed Xeita’s needs for energy very directly. Valacor drew the power from him to show him the cost requirements. Yorrik believed his life under threat - and ordered the house to arms, and ordered his ancestral spirit to kill Valacor.
The spirit was housed within Ari.
When he managed this, or why, I do not know, but none may have such a thrall within the Amicae. Yorrik will be punished, but right now I need those able to heal.
Valacor leveled the accusation that Ari was not sound of mind for leadership - she did not remember her own name, and is clearly susceptible to the influence of another’s orders. I have relieved her of command pending review of a council to find her of sound mind again.
Until then...
I am acting Praetor.
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.
This entry wrestles primarily with events which occurred at least a full season, if not a year, prior to the writing of this passage. Given other evidence of daily memorandum books, it is possible that Amrunrosse had a longstanding habit of enlarging her record of current events only after she had some distance from them.
It has also been suggested that her bardic training led her to delay the fleshing out of her records until she felt there was a suitably compelling narrative to drive the composition. The well-documented confrontation with Thrayson and Valinos was undoubtedly even more compelling at the time, and would have appeared at that time to offer a poetic circularity when contrasted with the repudiation of the Stormharrow alliance.
Contemporary records of the military actions during the Cel'Voda campaign are relatively intact, and the ally and slave mentioned in this passage are widely understood to have been Naccor Stormharrow and his koada' servant Wynteri, respectively. During this period, Naccor had paid for a commission in the Vigiles infantry for his younger brother, Malicce Stormharrow of Neriak, and records of the time suggest he was more interested in his brother's education and training than the boy himself was, and the friction between the brothers spilled over into the Cel'Voda campaign.
It seems reasonable to conclude that cultural assumptions were made on the part of both the Stormharrow boys and the Vigiles High Command, which came out in the crucible of this protracted campaign. The schism that resulted did entangle the Vigiles briefly in a diplomatic dispute with the elder Stormharrow's adopted House, the infamous trade empire of Shaded Lotus.
Detailed records of the resolution remain classified, but it is hoped that some of the more historically interesting reports will be de-classified in the near future, especially as Amrunrosse clearly believed that both events in this passage were deeply linked.
I do not know what to say. Perhaps the beginning of the thing is the only place to start.
The Priestess Chryso has returned to our midst. It was hard, having to drive her off to begin with, and it hurt another who had befriended her: Little Chryslinger, who has lost all and fights her void-lost twin. She still feels very much for her old unit, though she tells me she is not trying to rebuild. She asks me questions, I suppose trying to figure out how well I would fit their number, or to get a better idea of who I am.
House first. Always the needs of the House.
I don’t know how well she has understood that, but we will all be confronted with that, now.
We marched on the dragon Cel’Voda to recover our Lost, Xeita. We found evidence that our other, the Legate, had been there briefly. Xeita confirmed this. When we got her back, I gated out with Xeita and a smaller strike force aimed for the heart of Cel’Voda’s lair.
There, a false corpse was found, as well as a skull burning with arcana at least three days old. The dragon himself, however, is truly dead. Someone was there before us. I cannot believe anything else but that Marconis is behind this.
During this, our ally brought danger to us all when his slave knelt to them in the field. They do not want to see how this was risking their life by pointing out one of note in the field of battle.
I remember the Cel'Voda clan from before the civil war, and on my recommendation the Legate had us all march in Indigo livery, without insignia. It is an echo of a dusty past, when one house would make war on another, and provide just enough distraction that the law could plausibly ignore the action as one approved by a Power higher than theirs.
He is to young - or too poorly read! - to know the rigid conventions of that old custom.
He wants to argue her usefulness? Feh. He will not be able to accompany us any further in the field. I have purchased the slave he got bored with, so I hope his new one has all the discretion he demands of those around him.
Whatever else may befall, the issue is closed.
During that time, one approached seeking aid. I must speak with with them more fully as there is time. This gets at the heart of another issue, and I am very much inclined to sow dissention and have the brunt of the work done. I have taken the meager information to the Knights already, and will be taking more as I can get it.
I hate working with them, and feel like there is a trap about to close about me. I must step carefully.
All of these events have happened around Ari. The issue I have avoided so far...
She has been becoming less coherent, jumping around her personal history and not being very coherent in the present. I noticed this a few months ago, but her ability to lead was still intact. That has deteriorated, culminating in last night.
She was distraught when Sytan was taken: I do not know if that is what drives her from her mind now.
Last night, the Chief Medical Officer was shown how to feed Xeita’s needs for energy very directly. Valacor drew the power from him to show him the cost requirements. Yorrik believed his life under threat - and ordered the house to arms, and ordered his ancestral spirit to kill Valacor.
The spirit was housed within Ari.
When he managed this, or why, I do not know, but none may have such a thrall within the Amicae. Yorrik will be punished, but right now I need those able to heal.
Valacor leveled the accusation that Ari was not sound of mind for leadership - she did not remember her own name, and is clearly susceptible to the influence of another’s orders. I have relieved her of command pending review of a council to find her of sound mind again.
Until then...
I am acting Praetor.
Wednesday, June 13, 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.
This entry duplicates some information contained in earlier signatures, and the watermark on the paper indicates Maran manufacture, rather than Nektulan. It is likely that this represented the start of a fresh volume, and it appears we have several pieces of it, from a most interesting and controversial period in Amicae history.
During the so-called Age of Destiny, in the quicksilver rise of the New Combine, there was a great deal of political upheaval: from contemporary records it is clear that many of the leaders within the Amicae were aware of the turmoil, and anticipated some of the events that would later unfold, though it appears their planning availed them little in the campaigns which unfolded in those years.
The opening of this memoir is particularly interesting, as it makes some cursory attempts to bracket centuries of history in a few pithy lines. It is entirely in character for what history records of the notorious Folodu Amrunrosse, and the clearest evidence we have that these fragments are original to her hand.
It is advised that the student of history take her offered chronology and editorial commentary with a hearty grain of salt. In all the records we have of her hand, public and private, there is every evidence of a profound sense of her own centrality to events. Like most of the bardic-trained, it does seem she was drawn into many of the pivotal events of her time, and this must have only confirmed to her that she was therefore a driver of them.
It has been some time since I kept one of these. I hope to do it more justice than my previous ones.
In the time since my last journal, I have seen Xilinar leave for Qeynos, the Overlord vanish, got reacquianted with Ari and Val, helped found the Vigiles, and discovered Marconis’ pleasure den among a sect of Erolissians. I suppose I should begin somewhere close to there, at the beginning.
Last writing had me nearly ready to burst while carrying Chevanima. I was more city bound at the time, and Xil had just left for the Queen. [note: it would seem she refers not to the Bargainers' supported "Cristanos", but rather to the hereditary "Antonia" of Qeynos, although most records suggest that Chevanima's sire was dark elven.] I discovered Ari - or at least, a ghost of Ari - and knew it not. She was changed. I felt for her, but was too blinded with wanting affection that I did not see her own pains.
Even still, I have trouble with that, but I digress.
Xil had left to honor his allegiance with Ssinss when the Ilharn blew his lid that Ssinss had gone to Qeynos - he had not been informed that she was spying, there. My dear sis had had enough and walked. Xil walked with her.
I stayed, I helped hold the House together. It was my family, and I had sworn oath. It never even occured to me to follow them. It got me a promotion, and then I hid away from the world. I was depressed, and the little darling within me was really all I had going.
Then I found the ghost of Ari. I wanted so bad to have her love - I begged, I pleaded, I cajoled. I did not see that she was doing everything she could to comfort me, and I was doing nothing for her. She was stuck, and dearly missing Sytan - and a thing I will never tell any, I think she chose it because of him. I saw her when she turned the blade on herself at the Pit - it did not register. I could have begun delving immediately.
I know what she was trying to do, at least in part. Her memory starts to go when she is dead. It is uncanny, and unsettling. She was putting herself in a place to forget all of it. And - probably did not expect to come back: the Pit gives back few of its victims.
I suspect it was over Sytan because of how she aches when she thinks of him - she wants so much to be with him, and he with her. I really do not have a place between them. And yet. She lets me close anyways. It is hard to say if it is because I am a useful tool, if lustful, or not. Some days, it is very much like she loves me - and others. Well.
I cannot but admit it any longer, at least in these pages, but she fills my heart. Not in the way Xil did, but I really should not try to compare one love to another. I know well enough that each is different. We need each other, either way. She is bold and reckless, as I put on the show of being, and I could not bear her forgetting her love for Sytan, or her memories with me.
I know she will outlive me. It pains me to know that she will outlive even Cheva - and yet maybe. Maybe she will remember. Maybe Sytan will speak of us to her, when she forgets. All I can do now is be with her any chance I can, make sure she falls infrequently, bring her to herself, and be a way to bridge the gaps.
And - many dangerous places we have gone. Since founding the Vigiles so as we might have a way to be free, at some insistence, we have taken many, many dangerous jobs. Beware dragons, for they are large.
We have gained renown and profit, though I wonder if it will ever be enough. I am no longer so young, and not afraid of the City any longer. My fear lies in Cheva. I want to stop selling my sword and focus more on making her a place to live safely - a place I did not really have. She is a big motivator, and even Ari and Sytan, the two most stoic ‘dal I know, are affected by her charms.
I am glad I opted on my way of things rather than Vaka’s. I still think it foolish to have sent her children off to some plane to age faster. They will never be all that close. Maybe Vaka isn’t the mother type, but she didn’t even try. Then she let them run amok when they were old enough, threatening the House and being the least subtle creatures she could host. This - this was held up as a model - as an ideal in that den!
I could not stay there.
I am glad Ari was revived, even if she and Sytan were hermits. He protected her, and too well. I understand it was very bad, at times.
Well.
Sometimes, we have to know that we are not ready yet, even if someone else knows. I don’t think he wanted to accept that pill. But so far it has worked out well.
The Vigiles is formed, and I have a House to serve. We are small, and our ranks grown and shrink, but this is well, too. We often go to taverns and meet interesting people. I have a lover among the Knights, now, though an evening with her leaves me aching for more. She enjoys my attentions to her, but has yet to reciprocate. I cannot tell if she will be a good relationship to maintain.
However, I have also met the Huntmaster. He makes me a little giddy, and I like the way he responds to me. He can be abrupt at times, but he can be encouraged. It makes for a very good experience. I still feel giddy leaving him - I hope Ari does not think less of me for it.
I have also met Chryso - And that is the current news, Marconis.
It was a meeting of happenstance - a cute Fier girl with more bravery than sense turned out to be the daughter of an old, old lover of mine, from a youth that I spent in a different world than this. I will miss her... and while I knew she was older than me, I still will think Marconis is to blame.
He seems to have brainwashed poor Chryso, and she dotes on him far too much. I do not like where this might lead, but at the very least Chryso does not seem to be violated in body - her mind, while harder to mend for the thing, is to be the real challenge. It brings up very old memories that I wanted to stay buried.
At least with my tormentor, he is silenced and done with. Chryso? We shall see.
Sytan is working with her. I understand he knew the girl’s mother as well.
I do not know more, but I think it might motivate him more. It will not be easy for Ari - the girl wants to know the Mysteries of her religion - as if sex were a mystery! - but she has no concept of any sort of affection or desire. She is as a child in a woman’s body. She does not know what she asks.
I am sure that conversation will come up between Ari and Sytan at some point. It will not go very well, I think. Not that I expect yelling or fighting, but I am not so certain Ari wants to share him in any way, and she is so - naive. Maybe I am just a minx, as Ari says, but maybe they should talk it over during a sensual massage or tryst. It is how I would do it.
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.
This entry duplicates some information contained in earlier signatures, and the watermark on the paper indicates Maran manufacture, rather than Nektulan. It is likely that this represented the start of a fresh volume, and it appears we have several pieces of it, from a most interesting and controversial period in Amicae history.
During the so-called Age of Destiny, in the quicksilver rise of the New Combine, there was a great deal of political upheaval: from contemporary records it is clear that many of the leaders within the Amicae were aware of the turmoil, and anticipated some of the events that would later unfold, though it appears their planning availed them little in the campaigns which unfolded in those years.
The opening of this memoir is particularly interesting, as it makes some cursory attempts to bracket centuries of history in a few pithy lines. It is entirely in character for what history records of the notorious Folodu Amrunrosse, and the clearest evidence we have that these fragments are original to her hand.
It is advised that the student of history take her offered chronology and editorial commentary with a hearty grain of salt. In all the records we have of her hand, public and private, there is every evidence of a profound sense of her own centrality to events. Like most of the bardic-trained, it does seem she was drawn into many of the pivotal events of her time, and this must have only confirmed to her that she was therefore a driver of them.
It has been some time since I kept one of these. I hope to do it more justice than my previous ones.
In the time since my last journal, I have seen Xilinar leave for Qeynos, the Overlord vanish, got reacquianted with Ari and Val, helped found the Vigiles, and discovered Marconis’ pleasure den among a sect of Erolissians. I suppose I should begin somewhere close to there, at the beginning.
Last writing had me nearly ready to burst while carrying Chevanima. I was more city bound at the time, and Xil had just left for the Queen. [note: it would seem she refers not to the Bargainers' supported "Cristanos", but rather to the hereditary "Antonia" of Qeynos, although most records suggest that Chevanima's sire was dark elven.] I discovered Ari - or at least, a ghost of Ari - and knew it not. She was changed. I felt for her, but was too blinded with wanting affection that I did not see her own pains.
Even still, I have trouble with that, but I digress.
Xil had left to honor his allegiance with Ssinss when the Ilharn blew his lid that Ssinss had gone to Qeynos - he had not been informed that she was spying, there. My dear sis had had enough and walked. Xil walked with her.
I stayed, I helped hold the House together. It was my family, and I had sworn oath. It never even occured to me to follow them. It got me a promotion, and then I hid away from the world. I was depressed, and the little darling within me was really all I had going.
Then I found the ghost of Ari. I wanted so bad to have her love - I begged, I pleaded, I cajoled. I did not see that she was doing everything she could to comfort me, and I was doing nothing for her. She was stuck, and dearly missing Sytan - and a thing I will never tell any, I think she chose it because of him. I saw her when she turned the blade on herself at the Pit - it did not register. I could have begun delving immediately.
I know what she was trying to do, at least in part. Her memory starts to go when she is dead. It is uncanny, and unsettling. She was putting herself in a place to forget all of it. And - probably did not expect to come back: the Pit gives back few of its victims.
I suspect it was over Sytan because of how she aches when she thinks of him - she wants so much to be with him, and he with her. I really do not have a place between them. And yet. She lets me close anyways. It is hard to say if it is because I am a useful tool, if lustful, or not. Some days, it is very much like she loves me - and others. Well.
I cannot but admit it any longer, at least in these pages, but she fills my heart. Not in the way Xil did, but I really should not try to compare one love to another. I know well enough that each is different. We need each other, either way. She is bold and reckless, as I put on the show of being, and I could not bear her forgetting her love for Sytan, or her memories with me.
I know she will outlive me. It pains me to know that she will outlive even Cheva - and yet maybe. Maybe she will remember. Maybe Sytan will speak of us to her, when she forgets. All I can do now is be with her any chance I can, make sure she falls infrequently, bring her to herself, and be a way to bridge the gaps.
And - many dangerous places we have gone. Since founding the Vigiles so as we might have a way to be free, at some insistence, we have taken many, many dangerous jobs. Beware dragons, for they are large.
We have gained renown and profit, though I wonder if it will ever be enough. I am no longer so young, and not afraid of the City any longer. My fear lies in Cheva. I want to stop selling my sword and focus more on making her a place to live safely - a place I did not really have. She is a big motivator, and even Ari and Sytan, the two most stoic ‘dal I know, are affected by her charms.
I am glad I opted on my way of things rather than Vaka’s. I still think it foolish to have sent her children off to some plane to age faster. They will never be all that close. Maybe Vaka isn’t the mother type, but she didn’t even try. Then she let them run amok when they were old enough, threatening the House and being the least subtle creatures she could host. This - this was held up as a model - as an ideal in that den!
I could not stay there.
I am glad Ari was revived, even if she and Sytan were hermits. He protected her, and too well. I understand it was very bad, at times.
Well.
Sometimes, we have to know that we are not ready yet, even if someone else knows. I don’t think he wanted to accept that pill. But so far it has worked out well.
The Vigiles is formed, and I have a House to serve. We are small, and our ranks grown and shrink, but this is well, too. We often go to taverns and meet interesting people. I have a lover among the Knights, now, though an evening with her leaves me aching for more. She enjoys my attentions to her, but has yet to reciprocate. I cannot tell if she will be a good relationship to maintain.
However, I have also met the Huntmaster. He makes me a little giddy, and I like the way he responds to me. He can be abrupt at times, but he can be encouraged. It makes for a very good experience. I still feel giddy leaving him - I hope Ari does not think less of me for it.
I have also met Chryso - And that is the current news, Marconis.
It was a meeting of happenstance - a cute Fier girl with more bravery than sense turned out to be the daughter of an old, old lover of mine, from a youth that I spent in a different world than this. I will miss her... and while I knew she was older than me, I still will think Marconis is to blame.
He seems to have brainwashed poor Chryso, and she dotes on him far too much. I do not like where this might lead, but at the very least Chryso does not seem to be violated in body - her mind, while harder to mend for the thing, is to be the real challenge. It brings up very old memories that I wanted to stay buried.
At least with my tormentor, he is silenced and done with. Chryso? We shall see.
Sytan is working with her. I understand he knew the girl’s mother as well.
I do not know more, but I think it might motivate him more. It will not be easy for Ari - the girl wants to know the Mysteries of her religion - as if sex were a mystery! - but she has no concept of any sort of affection or desire. She is as a child in a woman’s body. She does not know what she asks.
I am sure that conversation will come up between Ari and Sytan at some point. It will not go very well, I think. Not that I expect yelling or fighting, but I am not so certain Ari wants to share him in any way, and she is so - naive. Maybe I am just a minx, as Ari says, but maybe they should talk it over during a sensual massage or tryst. It is how I would do it.
Monday, April 30, 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, a loose chronology may be posited.
It is unclear what arrest is referred to in the opening lines of this entry, but it may be a reference to the capture of Fafnier Brangwin by the Third Brigade during a public protest a year or more prior, since in the last entry it was clear he had already been missing for some time.
This entry appears to have been composed within a season or two of the violent raid on the Freeportian luxury resort The Crimson Rose, although it does not seem from the tone of her writing that Amrunrosse was aware of the classified report on the circumstances of that event. That very ignorance would seem unusual, as by this time Amrunrosse had been raised to Vigiles-Captain rank, as head of the counterintelligence unit under the direction of the Legate Bellum - at that time, it seems the role was being filled by Vigiles-Captain Valacor Valinos under a temporary field commission, though by the date of this entry he had surrendered it to the Restored Fafnier Brangwin. Whether peaceably or no, there is no surviving record which says.
All record of Valinos serving that role in a more permanent capacity at the Founding appears to have been unknown at the time of these events, and indeed, those sealed records were lost for several centuries. It would be illuminating to the student of Vigiles history to be permitted familiarity with the surviving records of the ReFounding, but on the orders of the Praetor herself, confirmed by the High Council, that part of the Archive is to remain sealed as Classified for the next millenium, at least.
In her defence, the Order of Solace was at that time supporting some piracy in the Timorous Ocean, and contemporary records show that the Vigiles was actively supporting the overstretched Gorowyn Militia at the time. Further, there are hints in the records of several active Freeblood organizations and allies making bids for secular power, but much of the hard detail is, unfortunately, also still classified.
It is advised that the student of history take her offered chronology and editorial commentary with a hearty grain of salt. In all the records we have of her hand, public and private, there is every evidence of a profound sense of her own centrality to events. Like most of the bardic-trained, it does seem she was drawn into many of the pivotal events of her time, and this must have only confirmed to her that she was therefore a driver of them.
It has been some time since I have had time to write. Since the arrest, there has been any number of incidents, and I just know that I’m going to be facing insubordination charges.
Ah well, the life of espionage. It is what it is, and I chose to be this way.
I hear the Wolf’s Den has finally taken itself completely off the face of Norrath - a valuable source of information gone. I served many years, and never was I really satisfied - the information games I played were entirely frivolous, but they allow me to do what I do now.
There was some disturbance on the docks of Gorowyn - had it been a city issue, the Vigiles would have readily stood by our allies. As it was, it was only petty pirates, and there was nothing to be concerned about with the city. I have not yet determined the girl we arrested had anything to do with this, but I have my suspicions.
Not long after that, Xeita and Sytan were kidnapped.
We have had success with Xeita finally. She was captured and given to the custody of a dragon - it was a glorious raid, though we were delayed far too much.
Oddly, she was kept with Sytan for a time, confirming my suspicion that the kidnappings were related. She was much bruised and beaten, and I can only hope that the lack of sexual assault will be easier to bear for all of it. Her daughter, Kahya, is quite strong for all she has been through.
With her release, I finally have some headway on the issue of Sytan. Kahya is his blood, so she can be as a beacon. Ari is attached to him, and can serve much the same function - if she will cooperate.
Ari - is losing coherence, lately. I cannot say what or why, but she seems to not be quite in our time, nor quite in any single time at all. I can only hope that having Sytan back will help, but I do not know. She seems to not know him when I speak of his title, but her pain when I speak his name is very evident.
Add to that the issue of Chryso, the Erolissian priestess. The girl is cute and sweet and looks so much like her mother. Marconis has done a number to her, to create the image in her head of the woman being as pale as I. Along with many other self-effacing tendencies, there is enough there to hang Marconis up by his thumbs for at least a century.
I hope I don’t end up having to kill the girl, though. She is the progeny of one of Ari’s old soldiers, and a friend. I will be working on befriending her again. If nothing else, she is a connection to him, and has gone to Faydwer - which is where Ari is feeling drawn to.
It is the only coincidence I have.
Fafnier is returned to us. I cannot express how glad this makes me, and how far in debt it pushes me. We are importing Vlosllye stock to feed him, and the Ilharess has declined payment. Given the nature of their quality, it is more expensive than I care to consider. I must find a way to dispel this debt for the good of the house, and the good of the relationship he wishes.
I am hesitant on this note, as he asks for a full bonding. Were I other than I am, this would be very readily accepted. To be wanted - it is intoxicating, and it has been far too long since Xil has even been heard of. I feel for Faf - but with all that is happening, no decision will be reached until after we have Sytan back.
Given the rather lone work I will be doing, I will of course explore the thoughts and see how they go. Until then, I will miss him and wish him comfort. He was so adorably enthusiastic in asking...
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, a loose chronology may be posited.
It is unclear what arrest is referred to in the opening lines of this entry, but it may be a reference to the capture of Fafnier Brangwin by the Third Brigade during a public protest a year or more prior, since in the last entry it was clear he had already been missing for some time.
This entry appears to have been composed within a season or two of the violent raid on the Freeportian luxury resort The Crimson Rose, although it does not seem from the tone of her writing that Amrunrosse was aware of the classified report on the circumstances of that event. That very ignorance would seem unusual, as by this time Amrunrosse had been raised to Vigiles-Captain rank, as head of the counterintelligence unit under the direction of the Legate Bellum - at that time, it seems the role was being filled by Vigiles-Captain Valacor Valinos under a temporary field commission, though by the date of this entry he had surrendered it to the Restored Fafnier Brangwin. Whether peaceably or no, there is no surviving record which says.
All record of Valinos serving that role in a more permanent capacity at the Founding appears to have been unknown at the time of these events, and indeed, those sealed records were lost for several centuries. It would be illuminating to the student of Vigiles history to be permitted familiarity with the surviving records of the ReFounding, but on the orders of the Praetor herself, confirmed by the High Council, that part of the Archive is to remain sealed as Classified for the next millenium, at least.
In her defence, the Order of Solace was at that time supporting some piracy in the Timorous Ocean, and contemporary records show that the Vigiles was actively supporting the overstretched Gorowyn Militia at the time. Further, there are hints in the records of several active Freeblood organizations and allies making bids for secular power, but much of the hard detail is, unfortunately, also still classified.
It is advised that the student of history take her offered chronology and editorial commentary with a hearty grain of salt. In all the records we have of her hand, public and private, there is every evidence of a profound sense of her own centrality to events. Like most of the bardic-trained, it does seem she was drawn into many of the pivotal events of her time, and this must have only confirmed to her that she was therefore a driver of them.
It has been some time since I have had time to write. Since the arrest, there has been any number of incidents, and I just know that I’m going to be facing insubordination charges.
Ah well, the life of espionage. It is what it is, and I chose to be this way.
I hear the Wolf’s Den has finally taken itself completely off the face of Norrath - a valuable source of information gone. I served many years, and never was I really satisfied - the information games I played were entirely frivolous, but they allow me to do what I do now.
There was some disturbance on the docks of Gorowyn - had it been a city issue, the Vigiles would have readily stood by our allies. As it was, it was only petty pirates, and there was nothing to be concerned about with the city. I have not yet determined the girl we arrested had anything to do with this, but I have my suspicions.
Not long after that, Xeita and Sytan were kidnapped.
We have had success with Xeita finally. She was captured and given to the custody of a dragon - it was a glorious raid, though we were delayed far too much.
Oddly, she was kept with Sytan for a time, confirming my suspicion that the kidnappings were related. She was much bruised and beaten, and I can only hope that the lack of sexual assault will be easier to bear for all of it. Her daughter, Kahya, is quite strong for all she has been through.
With her release, I finally have some headway on the issue of Sytan. Kahya is his blood, so she can be as a beacon. Ari is attached to him, and can serve much the same function - if she will cooperate.
Ari - is losing coherence, lately. I cannot say what or why, but she seems to not be quite in our time, nor quite in any single time at all. I can only hope that having Sytan back will help, but I do not know. She seems to not know him when I speak of his title, but her pain when I speak his name is very evident.
Add to that the issue of Chryso, the Erolissian priestess. The girl is cute and sweet and looks so much like her mother. Marconis has done a number to her, to create the image in her head of the woman being as pale as I. Along with many other self-effacing tendencies, there is enough there to hang Marconis up by his thumbs for at least a century.
I hope I don’t end up having to kill the girl, though. She is the progeny of one of Ari’s old soldiers, and a friend. I will be working on befriending her again. If nothing else, she is a connection to him, and has gone to Faydwer - which is where Ari is feeling drawn to.
It is the only coincidence I have.
Fafnier is returned to us. I cannot express how glad this makes me, and how far in debt it pushes me. We are importing Vlosllye stock to feed him, and the Ilharess has declined payment. Given the nature of their quality, it is more expensive than I care to consider. I must find a way to dispel this debt for the good of the house, and the good of the relationship he wishes.
I am hesitant on this note, as he asks for a full bonding. Were I other than I am, this would be very readily accepted. To be wanted - it is intoxicating, and it has been far too long since Xil has even been heard of. I feel for Faf - but with all that is happening, no decision will be reached until after we have Sytan back.
Given the rather lone work I will be doing, I will of course explore the thoughts and see how they go. Until then, I will miss him and wish him comfort. He was so adorably enthusiastic in asking...
Friday, February 3, 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.
This entry is less focussed than most, and seems to be trying to fill in random, potentially political events between this entry, and the blithe survey which seems to have been written some time before it.
It is unclear whether this stowaway incident was in fact the same as mentioned previously, as it seems the younger Amrunrosse developed a habit of escaping her guardians and tutors.
It is advised that the student of history take her offered chronology and editorial commentary with a hearty grain of salt. In all the records we have of her hand, public and private, there is every evidence of a profound sense of her own centrality to events. Like most of the bardic-trained, it does seem she was drawn into many of the pivotal events of her time, and this must have only confirmed to her that she was therefore a driver of them.
There has been much in the last little bit. Life is either slow, or overburdened. It always amazes me to see it shift between the two.
As a start to all of it, Cheva was playing in the harbor, and decided to play on a ship in the harbor. When the ship was ready to sail, this boundary did not hold up and she decided to be a stowaway. As soon as I found out, I was on the nearest ship I could find. She, of course, was on a simple supply run down the coast and back. I ended up shipwrecked with a bunch of pilgrims on a snowpack glacier. “Playing in the harbor” does not mean the ships in the harbor, and certainly not taking said ships in the harbor.
Luck was on my side, that I had opted to have my normal kit with me. I must say - my travel companions were less than helpless, and many of which needed rescued from the various dangers of the ice. Must keep in mind - do not work for free even once. If nothing else, take the money and sneak it back into their belongings later. Once you do one thing...
Later in the evening, I was able to find out from a Fier' in the Amicae that Cheva was returned. That was very relieving - it is more than unfortunate that he ran afoul of Marconis in a mission onto the tundra himself. We don’t know a thing about where they may have gone, so for now there is not much we can do but search.
On a completely unrelated note, a few evenings ago I spent learning some about Tier tastes. I will gladly wear a collar for her again. I cannot explain, exactly, why it was so desirable, but to have someone wish to own you! And to serve! This has been my only positive interaction with masters and slaves, and I really enjoyed myself thoroughly. I do not think Ari has taken such a keen outlook on it - but as I told her, I will test her and show her and me if she is the monster she fears.
Our little magus, Randie, seems to be having some trouble. He has lost some old friends and it has hit him hard. However, he also seems to have inherited a dragon’s horde... very odd. I feel for him, though. A lot on his shoulders, and so far as I can tell, there isn’t anything for him to actually do any longer. He gets to make up his own fate, when he never used to. He will get to feeling better.
Varric has come back from the dead, it would seem. I saw him last performing or guarding at the Lotus the other night. He apologized about falling off the face of Norrath, and that it was not anything planned. Very odd, still, that one.
The same night in the Lotus, I caught up with Vaka again. After arresting some girl for attacking some newly turned vampire, I wanted to know about a thing the girl said - she is a part of a group who “doesn’t exist”. Must be a very young operative, to even admit that. It could spell trouble, and it could be someone a little soft in the head. Either way, it is good to know potential challenges.
I still miss Xil, from time to time. And missing him reminds me of Fafnier. I hope Sytan can resurrect him soon. It has been far too long since I have heard his voice and enjoyed his company.
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.
This entry is less focussed than most, and seems to be trying to fill in random, potentially political events between this entry, and the blithe survey which seems to have been written some time before it.
It is unclear whether this stowaway incident was in fact the same as mentioned previously, as it seems the younger Amrunrosse developed a habit of escaping her guardians and tutors.
It is advised that the student of history take her offered chronology and editorial commentary with a hearty grain of salt. In all the records we have of her hand, public and private, there is every evidence of a profound sense of her own centrality to events. Like most of the bardic-trained, it does seem she was drawn into many of the pivotal events of her time, and this must have only confirmed to her that she was therefore a driver of them.
There has been much in the last little bit. Life is either slow, or overburdened. It always amazes me to see it shift between the two.
As a start to all of it, Cheva was playing in the harbor, and decided to play on a ship in the harbor. When the ship was ready to sail, this boundary did not hold up and she decided to be a stowaway. As soon as I found out, I was on the nearest ship I could find. She, of course, was on a simple supply run down the coast and back. I ended up shipwrecked with a bunch of pilgrims on a snowpack glacier. “Playing in the harbor” does not mean the ships in the harbor, and certainly not taking said ships in the harbor.
Luck was on my side, that I had opted to have my normal kit with me. I must say - my travel companions were less than helpless, and many of which needed rescued from the various dangers of the ice. Must keep in mind - do not work for free even once. If nothing else, take the money and sneak it back into their belongings later. Once you do one thing...
Later in the evening, I was able to find out from a Fier' in the Amicae that Cheva was returned. That was very relieving - it is more than unfortunate that he ran afoul of Marconis in a mission onto the tundra himself. We don’t know a thing about where they may have gone, so for now there is not much we can do but search.
On a completely unrelated note, a few evenings ago I spent learning some about Tier tastes. I will gladly wear a collar for her again. I cannot explain, exactly, why it was so desirable, but to have someone wish to own you! And to serve! This has been my only positive interaction with masters and slaves, and I really enjoyed myself thoroughly. I do not think Ari has taken such a keen outlook on it - but as I told her, I will test her and show her and me if she is the monster she fears.
Our little magus, Randie, seems to be having some trouble. He has lost some old friends and it has hit him hard. However, he also seems to have inherited a dragon’s horde... very odd. I feel for him, though. A lot on his shoulders, and so far as I can tell, there isn’t anything for him to actually do any longer. He gets to make up his own fate, when he never used to. He will get to feeling better.
Varric has come back from the dead, it would seem. I saw him last performing or guarding at the Lotus the other night. He apologized about falling off the face of Norrath, and that it was not anything planned. Very odd, still, that one.
The same night in the Lotus, I caught up with Vaka again. After arresting some girl for attacking some newly turned vampire, I wanted to know about a thing the girl said - she is a part of a group who “doesn’t exist”. Must be a very young operative, to even admit that. It could spell trouble, and it could be someone a little soft in the head. Either way, it is good to know potential challenges.
I still miss Xil, from time to time. And missing him reminds me of Fafnier. I hope Sytan can resurrect him soon. It has been far too long since I have heard his voice and enjoyed his company.
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!
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!
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