Entry One: How did I end up here?
My luck gets worse and worse by the year, I leave the Sword Coast to find my sister, having heard rumours of many seeking adventure and power on the ‘Isle of Arelith’. I worked as a travelling blade for months to earn enough coin to get on a boat, and head that way. But what happens? Someone forgot to make their sacrifice to Umberlee, not me, of course.
I cannot recall exactly what happened that night. But there was a storm, sleet, rain, thunder, lightning. It felt like the hells were opening upon us. It truly did. I was lucky to get aboard a rowboat as the ship was twain in two by the weather. Helm’s Eye was truly upon me that night…
But, back to the point: I got lucky, I was found aboard this boat after four days adrift at sea. My throat was parched, and I was as hungry as I’ve ever been. I felt like my strength was sapped, I need to regain it. The people that found me were a group of spice traders, heading to Skal to sell their wares at a premium to the population there. I tried to get them to take me to Arelith, but I had no coin, and they weren’t charitable folk. They pressed me into service as an oarsman on the way there. It was tough, but it got food in my belly, and ale down the throat.
Helm has a plan. His Eye watches.
Entry Two: Skal and Early Friends
Skaljard, the township at the port of the frozen wastes of Skal. Not much can be said of this small township, it’s cold, it’s small, and nothing like Helm’s Hold, or Neverwinter. I asked around, a couple of the folk here said to speak to the ‘Hovding’ of this town, he offered writs for adventurer’s, paying upwards of a Thousand Gold Pieces per writ! That’s enough coin for me to get my own suit of full plate! If anything good can be said of this frozen waste, it’s that they pay enough to keep adventurer’s like myself interested.
During one of these writs, I ran into a Paladin, Hector. He seemed confident in his abilities and was quite impressive during our jaunt into the local’s barrows. It felt wrong to be invading such an old and sacred place. But I was told that the undead needed to be cleared out, ‘lest they become a threat to the village. Helm would wish the safety upon the denizens of the town. I must heed it.
Hector introduced me to a couple of people: The most notable of which was the Wild Mage Seth’Anior Grimm, he’s a sun elf: Kinda arrogant, but I think we’ll get along nicely. His magic is impressive, I’ve never had the talent for the arcane, or the blessing of the divine.
I’ve also met a couple of others here, a rather beautiful wood elf by the name of Legalena, a strange halfing called Eddie, a headstrong man called Cyrus, a squirrely little one called Jean, and lastly, this rather Stoic Half-Elf they call Tera, I don’t know much of this one, but… I think I want to know more?
I’ve seen most of them talking to a man they call Edros, the head of the ‘Auxiliary Guard’ here. I don’t know much about him, I don’t know if I trust him.
The Whispers of a Helmite
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Entry Three: The Talona Incident
A priestess of Talona arrived in town. She claimed to be a healer and cleric of some talent. I had a rather interesting discussion with her around the camp fire about the legitimacy of the auxilliary guard here, they apparently do not have a writ from the Hovding… Which technically makes them an unlawful organisation. Technically... I appreciate what they do, as Helm does teach to be vigilant over all. Even if they’re not necessarily worthy of it. Now, I am writing this in hindsight, at the time, I had no idea of the evil’s that followers of Talona committed, and how evil the Lady of Poisons really was. This was a failing of my personal studies.
I’m getting distracted, caveats can be added later! But, anyways. This priestess offered to lend her healing to me. We ventured out, and completed several writs together, alongside a strange half-orc called Bishibosh. He confused me for an elf a half-dozen times this day alone! We headed out to do the usual routes, slay some gnolls, take care of a few Satyrs. The usual song and dance at this point. During this time, she acted diligently, maintained my own health, and that of the Half-Orc. Her actions spoke of someone seeking to help.
When we returned to the township, the Head of the Auxiliary guard, and Tera confronted us. The Priestess, Lisera: Had apparently been speaking in INFERNAL to a captured warlock! I had no idea that the township’s guard has such a dangerous creature in their captivity! I was astounded at this, I couldn’t believe that Lisera was confiding with such a fiend. I defended her, stating that it must have been a mistake, she was merely trying to talk with it, get information.
Edros did not see it this way, his sense of Justice, as a Tyrrite is, as black as night, and as white as the snow of Skal, did not waiver. Lisera did not want to follow him to the gaol. So she wriggled out of his grasp. He cut her down, dragged the corpse to the gaol, and likely resurrected it. Interrogating the priestess.
Such is the way of Skal. Those who have the Might, impose their will upon us all. Edros is the example of this on the Isle. He didn’t like what Lisera said, so he killed her for it… The lack of trial, the barest hint of evidence. None of it mattered.
Tera and I talked for a while after this, getting into the philosophy of Justice, Religion, and much more. Edros returned, carrying Lisera’s head. He threw it into the fire, and then offered to forge me Damask… I don’t understand the man. I don’t like him either. His intent and sense of justice are too morally rigid for my way of doing things. But, his skill as a swordsman makes him a serious threat, one that should not be discounted likely.
In other news, on this same tenday, Tera and I ventured forth into the wilds, marking our first outing into the wilds of Skal. She is a talented archer, and our skills compliment one another. We continued our discussion about the threats faced by Skal, leaning towards discussion on the transient-adventurer population. It was quite insightful; she had seen several come through the town. Enforce their will, and be booted out by another several times. Despite her stoic nature, I think she enjoyed the hunt. On our way back, Lisera, who had been brought back from the brink by her goddess. Confronted me, looking to Tera with blame in her eyes, and wished her Ladies Eye upon me.
I believe that was a threat, a statement of intent, consequence for my lack of action. Does Helm through these challenges to me so I can prove myself? What have I done to bother you Watcher. Is this punishment for my own failings of lore?
Skal is a strange place, and my duties are stranger still.
I’m getting distracted, caveats can be added later! But, anyways. This priestess offered to lend her healing to me. We ventured out, and completed several writs together, alongside a strange half-orc called Bishibosh. He confused me for an elf a half-dozen times this day alone! We headed out to do the usual routes, slay some gnolls, take care of a few Satyrs. The usual song and dance at this point. During this time, she acted diligently, maintained my own health, and that of the Half-Orc. Her actions spoke of someone seeking to help.
When we returned to the township, the Head of the Auxiliary guard, and Tera confronted us. The Priestess, Lisera: Had apparently been speaking in INFERNAL to a captured warlock! I had no idea that the township’s guard has such a dangerous creature in their captivity! I was astounded at this, I couldn’t believe that Lisera was confiding with such a fiend. I defended her, stating that it must have been a mistake, she was merely trying to talk with it, get information.
Edros did not see it this way, his sense of Justice, as a Tyrrite is, as black as night, and as white as the snow of Skal, did not waiver. Lisera did not want to follow him to the gaol. So she wriggled out of his grasp. He cut her down, dragged the corpse to the gaol, and likely resurrected it. Interrogating the priestess.
Such is the way of Skal. Those who have the Might, impose their will upon us all. Edros is the example of this on the Isle. He didn’t like what Lisera said, so he killed her for it… The lack of trial, the barest hint of evidence. None of it mattered.
Tera and I talked for a while after this, getting into the philosophy of Justice, Religion, and much more. Edros returned, carrying Lisera’s head. He threw it into the fire, and then offered to forge me Damask… I don’t understand the man. I don’t like him either. His intent and sense of justice are too morally rigid for my way of doing things. But, his skill as a swordsman makes him a serious threat, one that should not be discounted likely.
In other news, on this same tenday, Tera and I ventured forth into the wilds, marking our first outing into the wilds of Skal. She is a talented archer, and our skills compliment one another. We continued our discussion about the threats faced by Skal, leaning towards discussion on the transient-adventurer population. It was quite insightful; she had seen several come through the town. Enforce their will, and be booted out by another several times. Despite her stoic nature, I think she enjoyed the hunt. On our way back, Lisera, who had been brought back from the brink by her goddess. Confronted me, looking to Tera with blame in her eyes, and wished her Ladies Eye upon me.
I believe that was a threat, a statement of intent, consequence for my lack of action. Does Helm through these challenges to me so I can prove myself? What have I done to bother you Watcher. Is this punishment for my own failings of lore?
Skal is a strange place, and my duties are stranger still.
Last edited by Scar on Wed Apr 15, 2020 2:44 am, edited 1 time in total.
Entry Four: They Left, and so must I.
I woke up this tenday to find that most of those who I would consider friends have gone. Seth left a month ago. Hector is nowhere to be seen, and hells know who else has gone. I didn’t realise that the journey Legs was talking about, was to the Isle of Arelith! She took Jean, Cyrus and Tera with her.
I’m feeling, much more alone now. My days consist of joining groups of adventurers’ who wish to take on the tougher creatures of the Island, Minotaurs, Orcs, Skaldark’s Denizens… There are fine enough people here, many adventurer’s and future heroes… But I don’t have the same… connection, as I did to the others. They all arrived after me, and they have their own parties and groups they venture with. It feels like I am constantly intruding upon their friendships.
There are others who I would still call friend here, Ellison and Alexander, to name a couple. There are plenty of good folk around, but I believe my time in Skal has reached it’s end. The call to seek the Isle of Arelith, and further the search for my Sister is becoming strong.
I’ve begun asking around, seeing what alternate routes there are out of the island. It appears to me that there are four primary ways off Skal, I won’t note these down here, easy enough information to obtain. But I have decided to take the second-easiest path, considering that the ice has frozen over the port, I will be conducting a quick journey through the Shadowplane.
Simple, right? Well. We’ll see how it goes. The others leaving was the best sign I could have gotten. I’ve got a plan, I’ve got a potion, and I’ve got a way out. I’ll finish this journal entry if I make it.
The Ink sprawls off. The next section is written in a distinctly different ink.
What in the Nine Hells! Nobody warned me that the Shadowplane was going to be so damned dangerous! I drunk this attunement potion, a foul concoction. I would not wish the taste onto my worst enemy, it tasted like an awful blend of blood, juniper berry, and pepper, taking the worst flavours of all, and combining it into a thick black liquid.
The potion made my shadow grow, and wrap around me. I fell into darkness, and awoke in a strange trading post. The denizens of this wispy, incorporeal place called it an aspect of the Shadovar! It was, surreal. The place had all the makings of an underdark haven. But, I needed to regain my bearings, figure out how to get to Cordor from where I was in the Shadowplane. Staying here for much longer feels like someone will walk out wearing my skin.
I rested for some time, wandering about, checking the stalls, speaking to the locals, seeing what this place was: It’s apparently a neutral point of the realms. Planeswalkers of all planes of life walk through this location, no matter if they are good or evil, dwarf or drow, all are accepted.
I’m feeling, much more alone now. My days consist of joining groups of adventurers’ who wish to take on the tougher creatures of the Island, Minotaurs, Orcs, Skaldark’s Denizens… There are fine enough people here, many adventurer’s and future heroes… But I don’t have the same… connection, as I did to the others. They all arrived after me, and they have their own parties and groups they venture with. It feels like I am constantly intruding upon their friendships.
There are others who I would still call friend here, Ellison and Alexander, to name a couple. There are plenty of good folk around, but I believe my time in Skal has reached it’s end. The call to seek the Isle of Arelith, and further the search for my Sister is becoming strong.
I’ve begun asking around, seeing what alternate routes there are out of the island. It appears to me that there are four primary ways off Skal, I won’t note these down here, easy enough information to obtain. But I have decided to take the second-easiest path, considering that the ice has frozen over the port, I will be conducting a quick journey through the Shadowplane.
Simple, right? Well. We’ll see how it goes. The others leaving was the best sign I could have gotten. I’ve got a plan, I’ve got a potion, and I’ve got a way out. I’ll finish this journal entry if I make it.
The Ink sprawls off. The next section is written in a distinctly different ink.
What in the Nine Hells! Nobody warned me that the Shadowplane was going to be so damned dangerous! I drunk this attunement potion, a foul concoction. I would not wish the taste onto my worst enemy, it tasted like an awful blend of blood, juniper berry, and pepper, taking the worst flavours of all, and combining it into a thick black liquid.
The potion made my shadow grow, and wrap around me. I fell into darkness, and awoke in a strange trading post. The denizens of this wispy, incorporeal place called it an aspect of the Shadovar! It was, surreal. The place had all the makings of an underdark haven. But, I needed to regain my bearings, figure out how to get to Cordor from where I was in the Shadowplane. Staying here for much longer feels like someone will walk out wearing my skin.
I rested for some time, wandering about, checking the stalls, speaking to the locals, seeing what this place was: It’s apparently a neutral point of the realms. Planeswalkers of all planes of life walk through this location, no matter if they are good or evil, dwarf or drow, all are accepted.
Last edited by Scar on Wed Apr 15, 2020 2:45 am, edited 1 time in total.
Re: The Whispers of a Helmite
If they don’t break the rules, I hesitated to ask what happened to those who do break it.
Once I am stronger, I will have to delve through here with allies. I believe there are many discoveries and evils to be taken care of in this strange realm, and well. I have duties to complete, the Shadowplane can be host to a great many evil, we must ensure that the plane is safe, preventing incursion into our plane.
I took a ferry over a sea of shadow to the mirror-realm of Cordor. This is where it got hairy. Shadowy creatures of the night assaulted me! I should have expected this but was not ready for it. It was a close call. I fled into a nearby building, and Helm’s guidance… I found my way back to the material plane. I was in Cordor.
The first indication was the warmth. The biting cold of the plains of Skal was replaced with a much less awful winter breeze, and light snowfall. I had to confirm I had actually reached Cordor, the woman who had greeted me, a human with a strange name, Hospitality, was very, very confused by my glee. I was estatic. The pleasure of escaping the cold of Skal overwhelmed me. I am happy, I am here. I am safe!
I made it. Now, to find my friends.
Once I am stronger, I will have to delve through here with allies. I believe there are many discoveries and evils to be taken care of in this strange realm, and well. I have duties to complete, the Shadowplane can be host to a great many evil, we must ensure that the plane is safe, preventing incursion into our plane.
I took a ferry over a sea of shadow to the mirror-realm of Cordor. This is where it got hairy. Shadowy creatures of the night assaulted me! I should have expected this but was not ready for it. It was a close call. I fled into a nearby building, and Helm’s guidance… I found my way back to the material plane. I was in Cordor.
The first indication was the warmth. The biting cold of the plains of Skal was replaced with a much less awful winter breeze, and light snowfall. I had to confirm I had actually reached Cordor, the woman who had greeted me, a human with a strange name, Hospitality, was very, very confused by my glee. I was estatic. The pleasure of escaping the cold of Skal overwhelmed me. I am happy, I am here. I am safe!
I made it. Now, to find my friends.
Entry Five: Cordor… Sibiyad? Strange places, and stranger friends
It’s been a month since I arrived in Cordor. I have found my old friends. They seem surprised to see that I was wandering about. I guess the boats closed shortly after they left, and they weren’t expecting Skaalites. The people here are different than that of Skal, more distant, yet more friendly. I feel as though I’m being watched, and judged for every action.
Leg, Cyrus and Jean have… some form of mercenary guild that they’re forming. I don’t know if I’m interested. I’ve heard whispers of a young cleric of Helm forming a church on the isle. I plan to seek her out and discuss the church with her.
Aside from, this... A whole flurry of activity has happened. I’ve delved into the ancient tombs of the former rulers of Sibiyad, a desert town that is a short jaunt from the mainland of Cordor. A few days sail, at best. My combat proficiency has grown substantially! I’ve discovered a technique with my scimitar that allows me to cut through an enemy’s guard, and strike at their weakness. This is less effective against the undead of the tombs. But I’ve found that it’s particularly effective against the living.
We had a run in with a disguised drowess. Seth, being a Sun Elf holds a stronger hatred of the drow than even I. We chased after this drowess, having reason to believe that it was up to no good. We confronted it, but a Paladin took it’s side. I’m not certain why… A long discussion occurred, before the tensions rose to the point of the Drowess slinging her innate darkness to the ground, and using a Portal Lens to vanish.
How could I let a drow escape our clutches, and this Paladin of a goodly god had stopped us from doing so. We didn’t understand why, his reasoning was that it had done nothing wrong. Yet drow are inherently evil, no? I’ve not met one goodly drow of the race. They all worship the Spider Queen, they all torture, they all capture innocents. Like my sister…
Moments later, a fully warded Jergalite Necromancer happened upon us. Seth’Anoir, having his hackles raised from the incident, was on edge. The Jergalites words were not on the side of Seth. He was threatening to slay the Paladin for allying with the drow, and the Jergalite took the side of the obviously guilty Paladin.
This enraged Seth, things escalated… and, I don’t remember much after that. I awoke on the sands, my allies looking over me. I apparently charged the Jergalite after the first spell was slung, but was felled by the mans planar ally.
We all awoke in confusion, apparently once we had been slain. Legs had talked the man down, and we were resurrected. The Jergalite had brought us back, not moments after slaying us. I cannot understand the logic behind what he did. Defending a consort of the drow. Slaying us, and then bringing us back from the veil.
It confounds me, but I have never claimed to understand elves, let alone humans.
I don’t think this incident will be isolated. I should take care to make sure Seth doesn’t get himself into further trouble. I don’t really want to have to lead a crusade into the underdark to get him back.
Helm’s Eye is upon us, and we must be found worthy.
Leg, Cyrus and Jean have… some form of mercenary guild that they’re forming. I don’t know if I’m interested. I’ve heard whispers of a young cleric of Helm forming a church on the isle. I plan to seek her out and discuss the church with her.
Aside from, this... A whole flurry of activity has happened. I’ve delved into the ancient tombs of the former rulers of Sibiyad, a desert town that is a short jaunt from the mainland of Cordor. A few days sail, at best. My combat proficiency has grown substantially! I’ve discovered a technique with my scimitar that allows me to cut through an enemy’s guard, and strike at their weakness. This is less effective against the undead of the tombs. But I’ve found that it’s particularly effective against the living.
We had a run in with a disguised drowess. Seth, being a Sun Elf holds a stronger hatred of the drow than even I. We chased after this drowess, having reason to believe that it was up to no good. We confronted it, but a Paladin took it’s side. I’m not certain why… A long discussion occurred, before the tensions rose to the point of the Drowess slinging her innate darkness to the ground, and using a Portal Lens to vanish.
How could I let a drow escape our clutches, and this Paladin of a goodly god had stopped us from doing so. We didn’t understand why, his reasoning was that it had done nothing wrong. Yet drow are inherently evil, no? I’ve not met one goodly drow of the race. They all worship the Spider Queen, they all torture, they all capture innocents. Like my sister…
Moments later, a fully warded Jergalite Necromancer happened upon us. Seth’Anoir, having his hackles raised from the incident, was on edge. The Jergalites words were not on the side of Seth. He was threatening to slay the Paladin for allying with the drow, and the Jergalite took the side of the obviously guilty Paladin.
This enraged Seth, things escalated… and, I don’t remember much after that. I awoke on the sands, my allies looking over me. I apparently charged the Jergalite after the first spell was slung, but was felled by the mans planar ally.
We all awoke in confusion, apparently once we had been slain. Legs had talked the man down, and we were resurrected. The Jergalite had brought us back, not moments after slaying us. I cannot understand the logic behind what he did. Defending a consort of the drow. Slaying us, and then bringing us back from the veil.
It confounds me, but I have never claimed to understand elves, let alone humans.
I don’t think this incident will be isolated. I should take care to make sure Seth doesn’t get himself into further trouble. I don’t really want to have to lead a crusade into the underdark to get him back.
Helm’s Eye is upon us, and we must be found worthy.
Last edited by Scar on Wed Apr 15, 2020 2:45 am, edited 1 time in total.
Entry Six: The Ritual of Purification, and the Church of Helm
Seth and I found the drow again. There was a conflict. A death occurred. A head, taken. We have been warned that we are hunted. Lavok, a Drow Torturer, and sadist has formed a hunt for the two of us. We need to be careful. This will not stop our excursions into the tombs of Sibiyad, a regular raid for us these days. I alternate between hunts with Tera, who I am growing increasingly close with, in terms of our friendship and synergy in combat, and the others... not as much.
Our larger raids involve the Orclands, and the King of Kings Tomb. They are exciting, dangerous hunts. But they help us grow. I can feel my sword-arm getting stronger by the day.
This Tenday, I went on a hunt with Jean into the Lost Desert, we were seeking the Oracle, and a Lost Caravan… We found the Nomad Camp, cleared of the Nomadic Bandits, Jean and I looked around, confused to the sight, when we heard the awful tones of a goblin. Scabface. “Youza! Poopheads! What is youza doing!”
We panicked, we heard that Scabface was a slaver of the Underdark, and had been carving his way through the population of the surface. Collaring Elves, Hin, and anyone unfortunate enough to not have coin. I saw Jean disappear, I had assumed he had used a Portal Lens to escape to Cordor. I followed suit. He wasn’t there. In a confused rush, I barge to the city of Cordor. I bark out warnings. Adventurer’s come to my aid…
The High Watcher, Emma Young. The Cleric of Helm, took charge of the situation, calmed me. Got the information she needed from me. Gathered the necessary resources. We were to find Scabface, and Jean. She was confident, charismatic, a true leader. Her actions during those first moments solidified an image of her in my mind, that of The High Watcher. She was worthy of the title, that is to be certain.
She gathered her allies, a great many heroes, most far beyond my own skill, and led us into the Lost deserts of Sibiyad. A band of eight adventurers, all on the lookout for my friend, and the wicked goblin. We searched for days. The sands shifted our path, we came across the caravaners nearly a dozen times, the nomads, four... The shift, the change, the sandstorms… They all made it hard for us to search forth. No matter what we did, no matter where we scried him. We couldn’t find Jean. We couldn’t find Scabface. We couldn’t find anyone.
I had failed. I was one of Helm’s Children. I was unable to maintain vigilance on my allies. For that, I was offered two choices by the High Watcher. Excommunication, or a Ritual of Purification… I took on the Ritual, knowing that I wanted to continue my service to Helm, and this charismatic, influential Cleric of Helm. She tasked me twofold. I was to protect Bendir Dale, and my Allies for Fifty Days. I was to learn the purpose of vigilance, by sacrifice to others. Only then, would I be pure of my failings, and able to swear an oath to the Arelith Branch of His church.
This is what is expected of a Helmite. We are to protect, and act as the shield for others. Those who are under our shield must not come to harm. We are not to falter in the line of battle. We will fight until our allies have fallen back before we do. We break after the mountain does.
Helm Watches, and so must I. I must complete this ritual.
Our larger raids involve the Orclands, and the King of Kings Tomb. They are exciting, dangerous hunts. But they help us grow. I can feel my sword-arm getting stronger by the day.
This Tenday, I went on a hunt with Jean into the Lost Desert, we were seeking the Oracle, and a Lost Caravan… We found the Nomad Camp, cleared of the Nomadic Bandits, Jean and I looked around, confused to the sight, when we heard the awful tones of a goblin. Scabface. “Youza! Poopheads! What is youza doing!”
We panicked, we heard that Scabface was a slaver of the Underdark, and had been carving his way through the population of the surface. Collaring Elves, Hin, and anyone unfortunate enough to not have coin. I saw Jean disappear, I had assumed he had used a Portal Lens to escape to Cordor. I followed suit. He wasn’t there. In a confused rush, I barge to the city of Cordor. I bark out warnings. Adventurer’s come to my aid…
The High Watcher, Emma Young. The Cleric of Helm, took charge of the situation, calmed me. Got the information she needed from me. Gathered the necessary resources. We were to find Scabface, and Jean. She was confident, charismatic, a true leader. Her actions during those first moments solidified an image of her in my mind, that of The High Watcher. She was worthy of the title, that is to be certain.
She gathered her allies, a great many heroes, most far beyond my own skill, and led us into the Lost deserts of Sibiyad. A band of eight adventurers, all on the lookout for my friend, and the wicked goblin. We searched for days. The sands shifted our path, we came across the caravaners nearly a dozen times, the nomads, four... The shift, the change, the sandstorms… They all made it hard for us to search forth. No matter what we did, no matter where we scried him. We couldn’t find Jean. We couldn’t find Scabface. We couldn’t find anyone.
I had failed. I was one of Helm’s Children. I was unable to maintain vigilance on my allies. For that, I was offered two choices by the High Watcher. Excommunication, or a Ritual of Purification… I took on the Ritual, knowing that I wanted to continue my service to Helm, and this charismatic, influential Cleric of Helm. She tasked me twofold. I was to protect Bendir Dale, and my Allies for Fifty Days. I was to learn the purpose of vigilance, by sacrifice to others. Only then, would I be pure of my failings, and able to swear an oath to the Arelith Branch of His church.
This is what is expected of a Helmite. We are to protect, and act as the shield for others. Those who are under our shield must not come to harm. We are not to falter in the line of battle. We will fight until our allies have fallen back before we do. We break after the mountain does.
Helm Watches, and so must I. I must complete this ritual.
Last edited by Scar on Wed Apr 15, 2020 2:45 am, edited 1 time in total.
Entry Seven: Inductions and Dangerous Excursions
I spoke with the High Watcher this tenday. I had completed my Ritual to the letter. My allies and Bendir Dale had asked for much, and I had provided it. Having completed the ritual, Emma, The High Watcher, offered me a place within the Church of Helm as a Trusty.
Peroim Twofoot, a Watcher of the Order of the Stranger, oversaw my oath. I swore to protect, I swore by the Strength of my Back, My Shield and My Faith to protect others in gentile service to the Church of Helm. I will not let myself fail as I did in the past.
The High Watcher had mentioned to me that she was the present Oathkeeper of the Order of the Stranger, and that I if I was interested, I was to speak with Damian Belmont for an interview, and a trial by combat. The discussion, and trial were easily done. I was inducted not 5 days later into the Order as Vigilant of the Order. I am to protect the traveller’s of the road, the inns of the land, holy sites, and those strangers who seek help at all times.
Of the Order, there are several members who stand out to me, Tug and Aura are both noble in their intent, and friendly. Of the Order, I’ve only met one who made me consider my Oath. That one is Elaria. The High Watcher has told me that she is under her watch. Initially, I had qualms alongside working with a Palemaster of Jergal. Considering the incident I have had with drow-loving Jergalites myself. But, after several long discussions with the woman, and travelling alongside her… I believe, that I can trust the High Watchers judgement. Especially if the Oaths Elaria has claimed to have taken are true.
On a less, inquisitorial note. The Order has begun to involve me in their excursions to strange places. The first of which was the Manor of Mourn, this cursed locale is in the northern reaches of the Island. North of Brogdenstein. It’s filled with vampires, of all ages, gender, and ability. Hundreds upon hundreds of these foul creatures reside in it’s halls.
The High Watcher organised a raiding party to slay the fell beasts within the manor. We started with a group of six, that grew into a horde of ten. Emma, Tera, Legs, Taneli, Tug, and Elaria, to name a few. It was… not an easy task. The sheer number of creatures we had to fight nearly overwhelmed us. It was only due to Elaria’s Proficiency, and Emma’s Divine Magic that we made it through the thickest fighting.
This sort of militant action is why I joined the order. Slaying these cursed creatures prevents their ilk from spreading, and their ranks overturning the entire island. The group we ventured with was strong, I would not want to head there without such a competent organisation.
Another venture took us into Benwick, the former bastion of the Triad. I had accidentally entered the city before, and quickly found myself overwhelmed. Alongside the vigilance of The Order, we delved into the ruined city, and fought off the armies of Hell! The former halls of the city were a despairing sight to see, a former bastion of good corrupted. I would not wish the fate of Benwick upon anyone.
We briefly entered Baator, before I was whisked away on other tasks. But since that first venture into Benwick, I have since travelled Baator alongside many allies. Tug led an expedition into Benwick that, got out of hand. We ended up halfway to the Bridge to Dis before Tug wrestled control back over the mish-mash gathering of adventurer’s we had.
I believe my skills were discounted during that jaunt into the hells. Helm, give me the strength required to fight as one of your warriors.
Peroim Twofoot, a Watcher of the Order of the Stranger, oversaw my oath. I swore to protect, I swore by the Strength of my Back, My Shield and My Faith to protect others in gentile service to the Church of Helm. I will not let myself fail as I did in the past.
The High Watcher had mentioned to me that she was the present Oathkeeper of the Order of the Stranger, and that I if I was interested, I was to speak with Damian Belmont for an interview, and a trial by combat. The discussion, and trial were easily done. I was inducted not 5 days later into the Order as Vigilant of the Order. I am to protect the traveller’s of the road, the inns of the land, holy sites, and those strangers who seek help at all times.
Of the Order, there are several members who stand out to me, Tug and Aura are both noble in their intent, and friendly. Of the Order, I’ve only met one who made me consider my Oath. That one is Elaria. The High Watcher has told me that she is under her watch. Initially, I had qualms alongside working with a Palemaster of Jergal. Considering the incident I have had with drow-loving Jergalites myself. But, after several long discussions with the woman, and travelling alongside her… I believe, that I can trust the High Watchers judgement. Especially if the Oaths Elaria has claimed to have taken are true.
On a less, inquisitorial note. The Order has begun to involve me in their excursions to strange places. The first of which was the Manor of Mourn, this cursed locale is in the northern reaches of the Island. North of Brogdenstein. It’s filled with vampires, of all ages, gender, and ability. Hundreds upon hundreds of these foul creatures reside in it’s halls.
The High Watcher organised a raiding party to slay the fell beasts within the manor. We started with a group of six, that grew into a horde of ten. Emma, Tera, Legs, Taneli, Tug, and Elaria, to name a few. It was… not an easy task. The sheer number of creatures we had to fight nearly overwhelmed us. It was only due to Elaria’s Proficiency, and Emma’s Divine Magic that we made it through the thickest fighting.
This sort of militant action is why I joined the order. Slaying these cursed creatures prevents their ilk from spreading, and their ranks overturning the entire island. The group we ventured with was strong, I would not want to head there without such a competent organisation.
Another venture took us into Benwick, the former bastion of the Triad. I had accidentally entered the city before, and quickly found myself overwhelmed. Alongside the vigilance of The Order, we delved into the ruined city, and fought off the armies of Hell! The former halls of the city were a despairing sight to see, a former bastion of good corrupted. I would not wish the fate of Benwick upon anyone.
We briefly entered Baator, before I was whisked away on other tasks. But since that first venture into Benwick, I have since travelled Baator alongside many allies. Tug led an expedition into Benwick that, got out of hand. We ended up halfway to the Bridge to Dis before Tug wrestled control back over the mish-mash gathering of adventurer’s we had.
I believe my skills were discounted during that jaunt into the hells. Helm, give me the strength required to fight as one of your warriors.
Last edited by Scar on Wed Apr 15, 2020 2:46 am, edited 1 time in total.
Entry Eight: The Matters of the Heart
This is a hard entry to write, the thoughts skittering through my mind are not ones that a good soldier should be having. Over the past few months, I’ve become a lot closer to Tera. She is one of my most trusted companions, her bow and her talent for seeing what I cannot has been a boon. Her skills are something that I miss sorely when I’m not with her, and I find myself longing for her companionship, her stoic nature makes her a rock, and her judgement is as true as her aim… I don’t know if I feel anything more than friendship for the woman, I don’t want to repeat the mistakes I made back when I was a guard. The mistakes that led to the loss of my sister, I was distracted, and that’s what allowed her to be taken.
Tera is, an enigma to me at times. I have had people tell me that she is likely interested in me, but I find that hard to believe. She is honest, straightforward, and not the type to hide what she feels from someone. If I asked, she would likely give a direct answer, a distinct yes, or a no. Whether we remain friends after such a proposal is a hard question. Would her stoicness translate to awkwardness? Would it become a distraction, would it create tension. There’s too many if’s in this equation for me to feel comfortable expressing this conflict in my heart.
There is also the consideration of her emotional capacity. Tera, whilst beautiful and proficient. Is distinctly, less emotional than others. She has spoken to me about how she prefers the instinct of animals, and that brash emotion leads to conflicts of judgement. I believe that, if we were to become partners, beyond that of adventuring, would lead to conflict? I don’t, have much experience in the fields of romance, but I know that, affection is important. As much as others want us to be a couple, I feel as though our differences would drive a wedge between our friendship. Expectations are important to manage.
The other source of, emotional conflict has been Emma… The High Watcher, my direct superior, beautiful, confident, powerful… A friend, too. I would say… I find myself conflicted around her. She is the head of the church here, and I know I cannot feel anything beyond friendship with her, the primary relationship must be that of High Watcher, to Trusty. She must be able to give me orders without conflict in her heart, and I must remain able to conduct those orders, without fail. I will protect her with my shield as needed, but I cannot protect her with my heart. She must remain distant, fraternisation can cloud her judgement. I cannot let myself become a distraction; I cannot let myself be distracted. It cannot work.
Both would be honest with me over the status there. If I asked, I would likely be rebuffed, and told that it would not work. I understand this. I know this. This is a fact. The fact is untangible that fraternisation between the ranks, and fraternisation in close-knit groups compromises the working operations of the organisation. This is what the Guard of Helm’s Hold teaches, this is what militaries all over Toril teach. It compromises soldiers. It compromises people. It would compromise me.
But, there are still some who take the compromise, and become stronger for it. The most accomplished members of society have a partner by their side. They have someone to talk to, someone to trust, someone to come back to. It’s hard to die when you know you leave someone behind. I’ve seen married men and women fight ten times harder against a foe, just to make sure that they’ll see their love again.
Arihalys and Maya seem to think that Emma and I would make a good match, even if Maya did so in a less-than-forward manner. Arihalys is also, young, and I don’t know if she has had a string of successful partners. Her relationship with Taneli ended after a few short months. On the other hand, Aura, Emma and Taneli think that Tera would make a… good match for me.
The fact that Emma is suggesting her must mean she is aware that a Trusty and High Watcher cannot fraternise... Tera is an unknown in this, she can see straight to the point. I know that when Arihalys first arrived on the Isle, I had some interest in the beautiful half-elf. Tera picked up on that immediately. She would see through any veiled attempt at flirtation.
I cannot see myself worthy of either woman. They are both, incredible and talented, and I’m but a blacksmith’s son, cast out from his own home because of his failure to keep his own sister safe. How am I able to cast that aside until I know of Olivia’s safety.
This is just idle thought. None of this could ever happen. I cannot press this topic. I shall not. It’s not becoming. The fact of the matter is that I am direct subordinate to the High Watcher, and Tera is more likely to fall for a handsome elvish ranger from her homeland than some rugged looking wanderer from a city filled with the religious sort.
I must remain resolute, I must be strong. I cannot let my duties fail because of the way I feel about these two. I must keep these thoughts down, the skittering hints of romance are a distraction. This conflict must be resolved. I should speak of this to someone I trust. Aura, perhaps?
Helm, give me the strength of will to act as your humble servant. Do not let my emotions distract me from my duties. Is this but a trial you are putting in my way? I struggle to see the path you have laid before me.
Tera is, an enigma to me at times. I have had people tell me that she is likely interested in me, but I find that hard to believe. She is honest, straightforward, and not the type to hide what she feels from someone. If I asked, she would likely give a direct answer, a distinct yes, or a no. Whether we remain friends after such a proposal is a hard question. Would her stoicness translate to awkwardness? Would it become a distraction, would it create tension. There’s too many if’s in this equation for me to feel comfortable expressing this conflict in my heart.
There is also the consideration of her emotional capacity. Tera, whilst beautiful and proficient. Is distinctly, less emotional than others. She has spoken to me about how she prefers the instinct of animals, and that brash emotion leads to conflicts of judgement. I believe that, if we were to become partners, beyond that of adventuring, would lead to conflict? I don’t, have much experience in the fields of romance, but I know that, affection is important. As much as others want us to be a couple, I feel as though our differences would drive a wedge between our friendship. Expectations are important to manage.
The other source of, emotional conflict has been Emma… The High Watcher, my direct superior, beautiful, confident, powerful… A friend, too. I would say… I find myself conflicted around her. She is the head of the church here, and I know I cannot feel anything beyond friendship with her, the primary relationship must be that of High Watcher, to Trusty. She must be able to give me orders without conflict in her heart, and I must remain able to conduct those orders, without fail. I will protect her with my shield as needed, but I cannot protect her with my heart. She must remain distant, fraternisation can cloud her judgement. I cannot let myself become a distraction; I cannot let myself be distracted. It cannot work.
Both would be honest with me over the status there. If I asked, I would likely be rebuffed, and told that it would not work. I understand this. I know this. This is a fact. The fact is untangible that fraternisation between the ranks, and fraternisation in close-knit groups compromises the working operations of the organisation. This is what the Guard of Helm’s Hold teaches, this is what militaries all over Toril teach. It compromises soldiers. It compromises people. It would compromise me.
But, there are still some who take the compromise, and become stronger for it. The most accomplished members of society have a partner by their side. They have someone to talk to, someone to trust, someone to come back to. It’s hard to die when you know you leave someone behind. I’ve seen married men and women fight ten times harder against a foe, just to make sure that they’ll see their love again.
Arihalys and Maya seem to think that Emma and I would make a good match, even if Maya did so in a less-than-forward manner. Arihalys is also, young, and I don’t know if she has had a string of successful partners. Her relationship with Taneli ended after a few short months. On the other hand, Aura, Emma and Taneli think that Tera would make a… good match for me.
The fact that Emma is suggesting her must mean she is aware that a Trusty and High Watcher cannot fraternise... Tera is an unknown in this, she can see straight to the point. I know that when Arihalys first arrived on the Isle, I had some interest in the beautiful half-elf. Tera picked up on that immediately. She would see through any veiled attempt at flirtation.
I cannot see myself worthy of either woman. They are both, incredible and talented, and I’m but a blacksmith’s son, cast out from his own home because of his failure to keep his own sister safe. How am I able to cast that aside until I know of Olivia’s safety.
This is just idle thought. None of this could ever happen. I cannot press this topic. I shall not. It’s not becoming. The fact of the matter is that I am direct subordinate to the High Watcher, and Tera is more likely to fall for a handsome elvish ranger from her homeland than some rugged looking wanderer from a city filled with the religious sort.
I must remain resolute, I must be strong. I cannot let my duties fail because of the way I feel about these two. I must keep these thoughts down, the skittering hints of romance are a distraction. This conflict must be resolved. I should speak of this to someone I trust. Aura, perhaps?
Helm, give me the strength of will to act as your humble servant. Do not let my emotions distract me from my duties. Is this but a trial you are putting in my way? I struggle to see the path you have laid before me.
Last edited by Scar on Wed Apr 15, 2020 2:47 am, edited 1 time in total.
Entry Nine: Aurin and the Ilythiiri.
Aurin Guiran, Guard of Cordor, Slave to the V’Zaniir, Retainer of the Xun’viir, Helmite: This moonshae-accented guard dhas gone through much, and has been tempered by his experience. He is a formidable warrior these days, and hangs around strange crowds.
Arihalys, Emma and Myself were taking a moment to relax: I had commissioned some clothing for the High Watcher, after she had mentioned on an aside that she threw away her old clothes, because they reminded her of ‘Percy’. I don’t know who the man is, but it’s obvious that he was important to her. People rarely throw away their only pair of clothes unless there is a strong emotional incentive.
After Emma had shown us the new clothes, at Ari’s bequest. Ari invited us to her establishment, to begin enjoying the array of wines and whiskey’s the Nomad had to offer. We were winding down, for a rare moment. It feels like The High Watcher never gets an opportunity to relax these days, I should encourage her to relax more, working herself to death isn’t a good thing.
It was was suggested we search for Aurin at the Bathhouses of Sibiyad. To celebrate the fact that his collar had been broken. It was a good enough idea, we could have sipped wine and relaxed on the path there.
Little did we know that it was to be an awakening for all of us. We find him, enjoying the baths in all the splendour it offered, alongside a Pixie, and an easterner. We talk and chat. The pixie was a polymorphed Drowess… I was, aggressive. Angered. I wanted to cut the drow down for their species transgressions against my own family. How dare this drowess wander the surface of Sibiyad like there was no consequence! Emma stayed my blade, I was ready. I wanted to. I should have…
But Aurin’s eyes pleaded no, Arihalys would have been at risk. He treads a fine line, that Helmite. He has good intent, so I trusted him. Barely. We were lead to the Silver Bough, where we had a civil discussion, relatively. The Drowess had, many questions, and so did we. The differences in our cultures are distinct. This, Drow is different to the others. She was not raised in a Llothite city, and is… atheistic in her manner.
I don’t trust this dark creature, and I don’t like the friendly way Aurin speaks to her. I understand that she helped him in the Underdark, but she must have some game, some ploy that she is getting at. No Drow can be trusted, they’re all dark, vile creatures.
What game are you playing at here Aurin? Are you using these folk, are you using us? Why do I find myself worried about what you’re in. The schemes and plots that surround you are concerning to say the least. I would consider you a friend, but the world you live in makes it hard to trust you. Are you on the Church’s side? Are you on the Darks?
Emma garnered a lot of information from that. She found it useful. I found myself talking, chatting with these underdarkers, like it was a day at the Inn, albeit with no alcohol imbibed on my side.. Ari was curious, and too trusting. I’m worried that she’ll end up with a collar. Her nature is too kind for this harsh world, and I can’t protect her if she puts herself willingly there.
I hope Aurin can prevent that. Helm has his own way of watching over us all. Aurin’s is guided in a bit more shadow than mine.
The next section is written after. Fit in between the lines, and smaller in the inked lettering.
Aurin has been back surface side for a few months now. He’s adjusted well. He joined the guard of Cordor and was formally inducted into the church. I have been meaning to grab a drink with the man, and sit down, get drunk, and talk. Something I rarely get to do. He’s much older, and more experienced in life than I. We have distinct differences, his sense of justice is much harsher, and less forgiving to those who break the lines. He’s a formidable combatant, and a damnably good blade to have alongside. Our skillsets complement one another, as seen on the brief ventures that we have had.
I have developed a healthy respect for Aurin, and I understand that his intent with the Underdark is that of benefit for the surface. Because of this respect, I met with A Drowess. She sent a goblin messenger to me in the streets of Cordor. Thankfully I was alone, receiving goblin messengers is always a heart-stopping experience... I was hesistant to meet with the drowess, but she said it was important, that it concerned Aurin.
We met in the Shadowplane, at the Nameless Tavern in the Shadow of Cordor. It’s a good place for such meetings, not many jaunt into the shadowplane, and nor would they go looking for a place to drink in the locale.
It was the most stressful, and strange meeting of my entire life. She and Aurin are… romantically involved. She came to me, since I was the one that trusted her the least out of Aurin’s surfacer friends, knowing that her plan would have to start with me beginning to trust her.
A wise, and logical decision. I have my own personal prejudices with the Ilythiiri, and most are horrible, vile, evil things. The Drowess is different. She didn’t try to pit Aurin and I against one another in the Sibiyad Baths, she didn’t scheme and plot when we talked.
Something was written here, but has been scribbled out.
My sister has been missing for six years, she was captured by Drow in a raid on our farm. Taken slave, collared by the dark.
I failed in my duties, and someone I love was taken. Another scribbled out section
She seeks guidance. It’s a complicated thing she asks, but if the High Watcher can agree, we can come to a compromise. I must refer to her guidance on this matter, her judgement is critical. If she deems it to be impossible, then I will follow her orders. Her name has been besmirched too much by others to have a rogue element within her ranks.
Aurin deserves this. He’s been through too much to be separated from someone he cares for. His partner. The Drowess needs to build trust with all of us, and I have no idea how she can do that. I don’t trust her, I don’t like her. She is an Ilythiiri, afterall, she could be playing us all for fools. But, if she is honest in her intent, then I must give her a chance.
For Aurin, for Love.
For Olivia.
Arihalys, Emma and Myself were taking a moment to relax: I had commissioned some clothing for the High Watcher, after she had mentioned on an aside that she threw away her old clothes, because they reminded her of ‘Percy’. I don’t know who the man is, but it’s obvious that he was important to her. People rarely throw away their only pair of clothes unless there is a strong emotional incentive.
After Emma had shown us the new clothes, at Ari’s bequest. Ari invited us to her establishment, to begin enjoying the array of wines and whiskey’s the Nomad had to offer. We were winding down, for a rare moment. It feels like The High Watcher never gets an opportunity to relax these days, I should encourage her to relax more, working herself to death isn’t a good thing.
It was was suggested we search for Aurin at the Bathhouses of Sibiyad. To celebrate the fact that his collar had been broken. It was a good enough idea, we could have sipped wine and relaxed on the path there.
Little did we know that it was to be an awakening for all of us. We find him, enjoying the baths in all the splendour it offered, alongside a Pixie, and an easterner. We talk and chat. The pixie was a polymorphed Drowess… I was, aggressive. Angered. I wanted to cut the drow down for their species transgressions against my own family. How dare this drowess wander the surface of Sibiyad like there was no consequence! Emma stayed my blade, I was ready. I wanted to. I should have…
But Aurin’s eyes pleaded no, Arihalys would have been at risk. He treads a fine line, that Helmite. He has good intent, so I trusted him. Barely. We were lead to the Silver Bough, where we had a civil discussion, relatively. The Drowess had, many questions, and so did we. The differences in our cultures are distinct. This, Drow is different to the others. She was not raised in a Llothite city, and is… atheistic in her manner.
I don’t trust this dark creature, and I don’t like the friendly way Aurin speaks to her. I understand that she helped him in the Underdark, but she must have some game, some ploy that she is getting at. No Drow can be trusted, they’re all dark, vile creatures.
What game are you playing at here Aurin? Are you using these folk, are you using us? Why do I find myself worried about what you’re in. The schemes and plots that surround you are concerning to say the least. I would consider you a friend, but the world you live in makes it hard to trust you. Are you on the Church’s side? Are you on the Darks?
Emma garnered a lot of information from that. She found it useful. I found myself talking, chatting with these underdarkers, like it was a day at the Inn, albeit with no alcohol imbibed on my side.. Ari was curious, and too trusting. I’m worried that she’ll end up with a collar. Her nature is too kind for this harsh world, and I can’t protect her if she puts herself willingly there.
I hope Aurin can prevent that. Helm has his own way of watching over us all. Aurin’s is guided in a bit more shadow than mine.
The next section is written after. Fit in between the lines, and smaller in the inked lettering.
Aurin has been back surface side for a few months now. He’s adjusted well. He joined the guard of Cordor and was formally inducted into the church. I have been meaning to grab a drink with the man, and sit down, get drunk, and talk. Something I rarely get to do. He’s much older, and more experienced in life than I. We have distinct differences, his sense of justice is much harsher, and less forgiving to those who break the lines. He’s a formidable combatant, and a damnably good blade to have alongside. Our skillsets complement one another, as seen on the brief ventures that we have had.
I have developed a healthy respect for Aurin, and I understand that his intent with the Underdark is that of benefit for the surface. Because of this respect, I met with A Drowess. She sent a goblin messenger to me in the streets of Cordor. Thankfully I was alone, receiving goblin messengers is always a heart-stopping experience... I was hesistant to meet with the drowess, but she said it was important, that it concerned Aurin.
We met in the Shadowplane, at the Nameless Tavern in the Shadow of Cordor. It’s a good place for such meetings, not many jaunt into the shadowplane, and nor would they go looking for a place to drink in the locale.
It was the most stressful, and strange meeting of my entire life. She and Aurin are… romantically involved. She came to me, since I was the one that trusted her the least out of Aurin’s surfacer friends, knowing that her plan would have to start with me beginning to trust her.
A wise, and logical decision. I have my own personal prejudices with the Ilythiiri, and most are horrible, vile, evil things. The Drowess is different. She didn’t try to pit Aurin and I against one another in the Sibiyad Baths, she didn’t scheme and plot when we talked.
Something was written here, but has been scribbled out.
My sister has been missing for six years, she was captured by Drow in a raid on our farm. Taken slave, collared by the dark.
I failed in my duties, and someone I love was taken. Another scribbled out section
She seeks guidance. It’s a complicated thing she asks, but if the High Watcher can agree, we can come to a compromise. I must refer to her guidance on this matter, her judgement is critical. If she deems it to be impossible, then I will follow her orders. Her name has been besmirched too much by others to have a rogue element within her ranks.
Aurin deserves this. He’s been through too much to be separated from someone he cares for. His partner. The Drowess needs to build trust with all of us, and I have no idea how she can do that. I don’t trust her, I don’t like her. She is an Ilythiiri, afterall, she could be playing us all for fools. But, if she is honest in her intent, then I must give her a chance.
For Aurin, for Love.
For Olivia.
Last edited by Scar on Wed Apr 15, 2020 2:47 am, edited 1 time in total.
Entry Ten: Of Pilgrimage and Promotions
Alert Jensen Whisper, Watcher Jensen Whisper: I keep on getting a new title every month, it feels. Jensen Whisper, Alert of the Church of Helm and Watcher of the Order of the Stranger is such a mouthful, isn’t it?
Yet I keep on being given these responsibilities, and I keep on wanting to live up to them! Emma mentioned idly on one of our adventures that I would make a good leader of soldiers, one day, and it keeps on lingering with me. I’m a soldier, a weapons master, not a leader, right? I don’t have the same force of personality as Paladins like Aura, or the keen eyes of an Archer like Tera. I’m just a man, and a scimitar…
But is that all I have to be? Sometimes I wonder if I’m just only good for my sword-arm, my back and my shield. I can guard my allies well, and I can fight as well as any. But I feel an instinct, a drive. I want to be more than just that.
I’m heading back to Helm’s Hold soon. After all these months, there’s been rumours of a new cleric in the Church of Helm back at the Hold. She matches the description of my sister. I hope that it’s her, and I hope that she’s okay.
On another note, I ran into Ellison before I left on this pilgrimage. We travelled through Minmir together, reminiscing about Skal. I invited her to the Order of the Stranger, and she accepted the call. Aura inducted her into our ranks. It was quite a touching ceremony to see the new Oathkeeper take on her responsibilities fully.
The ink in the journal has a different shade of ink in the addendum of this entry
My Pilgrimage to Helm’s Hold was fruitful. The burden on my shoulders was lifted in discussion with members of the faith. They were proud of my service to the High Watcher of the Church in Arelith, and bid me to continue the faithful service alongside Emma’s work.
The rumours of a Cleric matching my sister were false. If she had broken the chains, she was not here. Not practicing in the Hold itself. I had heard tales of a Cleric of Helm in Phandalin, maybe I will have to venture there another time.
Father refused to speak to me, even with this news. He could not look me in the eye. His hatred remains deep for my inability to protect… I don’t know if I can repair this, it has been too long, he has let the wound fester for too long. It is now a deep, ugly scar. I am no longer a Smythe, I must embrace the name I use now. I am Jensen Whisper, not Jensen Smythe.
The Guard-Captain of the Hold was pleased to see me. We spoke for a long time about the intricacies of combat, the fell beasts of the world, and the strange sights I have been through. He could not believe the tales I told him of Baator, the Manor, and Sibiyad. The Little Whisper, slaying Demons and Devils? Insanity to the grizzled man.
Why does nobody believe I have been to Hell and Back? Tera seems to think that it’s ridiculous that I tell people that it’s a thing that I have done. I’ve been to the River Styx, helped slay a Styx Dragon, and yet people still eye me like I’m a madman!
It’s rather odd, but. I must head back to the Isle. I have been gone long enough, I do not want Emma or Aura to worry about my absence. I cannot provide vigilance to those of the Church, if I am not physically present.
I have been gone long enough. Helms’ Call must be Heeded.
Yet I keep on being given these responsibilities, and I keep on wanting to live up to them! Emma mentioned idly on one of our adventures that I would make a good leader of soldiers, one day, and it keeps on lingering with me. I’m a soldier, a weapons master, not a leader, right? I don’t have the same force of personality as Paladins like Aura, or the keen eyes of an Archer like Tera. I’m just a man, and a scimitar…
But is that all I have to be? Sometimes I wonder if I’m just only good for my sword-arm, my back and my shield. I can guard my allies well, and I can fight as well as any. But I feel an instinct, a drive. I want to be more than just that.
I’m heading back to Helm’s Hold soon. After all these months, there’s been rumours of a new cleric in the Church of Helm back at the Hold. She matches the description of my sister. I hope that it’s her, and I hope that she’s okay.
On another note, I ran into Ellison before I left on this pilgrimage. We travelled through Minmir together, reminiscing about Skal. I invited her to the Order of the Stranger, and she accepted the call. Aura inducted her into our ranks. It was quite a touching ceremony to see the new Oathkeeper take on her responsibilities fully.
The ink in the journal has a different shade of ink in the addendum of this entry
My Pilgrimage to Helm’s Hold was fruitful. The burden on my shoulders was lifted in discussion with members of the faith. They were proud of my service to the High Watcher of the Church in Arelith, and bid me to continue the faithful service alongside Emma’s work.
The rumours of a Cleric matching my sister were false. If she had broken the chains, she was not here. Not practicing in the Hold itself. I had heard tales of a Cleric of Helm in Phandalin, maybe I will have to venture there another time.
Father refused to speak to me, even with this news. He could not look me in the eye. His hatred remains deep for my inability to protect… I don’t know if I can repair this, it has been too long, he has let the wound fester for too long. It is now a deep, ugly scar. I am no longer a Smythe, I must embrace the name I use now. I am Jensen Whisper, not Jensen Smythe.
The Guard-Captain of the Hold was pleased to see me. We spoke for a long time about the intricacies of combat, the fell beasts of the world, and the strange sights I have been through. He could not believe the tales I told him of Baator, the Manor, and Sibiyad. The Little Whisper, slaying Demons and Devils? Insanity to the grizzled man.
Why does nobody believe I have been to Hell and Back? Tera seems to think that it’s ridiculous that I tell people that it’s a thing that I have done. I’ve been to the River Styx, helped slay a Styx Dragon, and yet people still eye me like I’m a madman!
It’s rather odd, but. I must head back to the Isle. I have been gone long enough, I do not want Emma or Aura to worry about my absence. I cannot provide vigilance to those of the Church, if I am not physically present.
I have been gone long enough. Helms’ Call must be Heeded.
Last edited by Scar on Wed Apr 15, 2020 2:48 am, edited 1 time in total.
Entry Eleven: Wrapped in Intrigue
My arrival back to the isle has been wrapped in intrigue. So many things that I cannot possibly write about have occurred since I’ve been gone, and so much has happened in the past few tenday that is impossible to talk about.
The High Watcher approached me with the idea of expanding the Church, dividing the work across several subdivisions, each responsible for their own aspect of the Church. Emma has offered me the lead of the militant organisation.
I spoke with Aura on this topic, she seemed disappointed that I would be taking on this position, as I believe she was grooming me for the position of Oathwarden of a Chapterhouse. My loyalties lie with the Church first, and the Order second. If it had come to a conflict of interest, I believe I would follow The High Watcher.
I sincerely hope it doesn’t come to this, as I would consider most of those within the Order friends, but my faith must come first.
I have accepted this position and have formed this new organisation. The Gauntlet, we will act as the Sword and Shield of Helm on this Isle. As a part of my new command, Berenor Silver-Wind knighted me at the bequest of The High Watcher, I’m now formally a Knight of Helm, and the Knight-Commander of His Gauntlet. Now, I must speak with Elias.
In the topic of schemes and plots, The Acorn has requested to speak with me, several times now. This seed has planted itself into deep schemes and plots. It’s roots are squirming it’s way into several sources of water, and is sucking those wells dry.
They want me to deal with a rotten fruit, observe the acorn’s roots as they worm their way into the fermenting nectar of the fruit. I don’t know where this will lead, but I must keep my ears open to the information and warnings they have given
The Acorn has grown much since it was planted. I’m concerned for where the roots have led, but I cannot trim or prune it back. The Shadow of the Oak Tree found me inquiring after a drink, with a man whomst the High Watcher is close friends with.
This man is, competent. He’s an accomplished spellcaster, and tied into many things. We sat down, and talked for some time. Discussing the nature of his life, the tragedy of his path. He understands the tragedy of losing someone you love. His own child… lost to him.
I feel for him, his plight is something I empathise with. We have both lost, and his heart seems perpetually saddened from these issues. I may have been wrong with my judgement of his family, of who he is.
Furthermore, he has ties to a friend. They’ve been undergoing much; they doubt their heart. They’re hurting, they’re not thinking straight. I don’t know what else to do but be there for them. They have an incredible burden upon them, and I cannot lend my arm to support them through it.
They see their plight as love. It’s a curse, they are attracted to someone who will use them, discard them. Put them to the side like nothing ever happened. This is the risk of attraction, your own body fights against you. Longing for you to be with them. Those in the fresh throes of love find themselves clouded. They find themselves. Unclear.
I must ensure that the clouds over their mind do not thunder, and cause fractures of the mind.
I must keep my friends safe.
No matter the cost.
The High Watcher approached me with the idea of expanding the Church, dividing the work across several subdivisions, each responsible for their own aspect of the Church. Emma has offered me the lead of the militant organisation.
I spoke with Aura on this topic, she seemed disappointed that I would be taking on this position, as I believe she was grooming me for the position of Oathwarden of a Chapterhouse. My loyalties lie with the Church first, and the Order second. If it had come to a conflict of interest, I believe I would follow The High Watcher.
I sincerely hope it doesn’t come to this, as I would consider most of those within the Order friends, but my faith must come first.
I have accepted this position and have formed this new organisation. The Gauntlet, we will act as the Sword and Shield of Helm on this Isle. As a part of my new command, Berenor Silver-Wind knighted me at the bequest of The High Watcher, I’m now formally a Knight of Helm, and the Knight-Commander of His Gauntlet. Now, I must speak with Elias.
In the topic of schemes and plots, The Acorn has requested to speak with me, several times now. This seed has planted itself into deep schemes and plots. It’s roots are squirming it’s way into several sources of water, and is sucking those wells dry.
They want me to deal with a rotten fruit, observe the acorn’s roots as they worm their way into the fermenting nectar of the fruit. I don’t know where this will lead, but I must keep my ears open to the information and warnings they have given
The Acorn has grown much since it was planted. I’m concerned for where the roots have led, but I cannot trim or prune it back. The Shadow of the Oak Tree found me inquiring after a drink, with a man whomst the High Watcher is close friends with.
This man is, competent. He’s an accomplished spellcaster, and tied into many things. We sat down, and talked for some time. Discussing the nature of his life, the tragedy of his path. He understands the tragedy of losing someone you love. His own child… lost to him.
I feel for him, his plight is something I empathise with. We have both lost, and his heart seems perpetually saddened from these issues. I may have been wrong with my judgement of his family, of who he is.
Furthermore, he has ties to a friend. They’ve been undergoing much; they doubt their heart. They’re hurting, they’re not thinking straight. I don’t know what else to do but be there for them. They have an incredible burden upon them, and I cannot lend my arm to support them through it.
They see their plight as love. It’s a curse, they are attracted to someone who will use them, discard them. Put them to the side like nothing ever happened. This is the risk of attraction, your own body fights against you. Longing for you to be with them. Those in the fresh throes of love find themselves clouded. They find themselves. Unclear.
I must ensure that the clouds over their mind do not thunder, and cause fractures of the mind.
I must keep my friends safe.
No matter the cost.
Last edited by Scar on Wed Apr 15, 2020 2:48 am, edited 1 time in total.
Entry Twelve: Letting Others In
This Tenday has been, complicated. I’ve spoken with Elias, who gave me useful guidance on leadership. It was all, extremely enlightening. I’ve much to do before I believe I’ll be an effective leader.
I finally managed to grab a drink with Aurin. We’ve been meaning to for months now, but the time has never arisen. A few others joined us; Tera amongst them. It was a celebration of finally sorting it out. He makes a fine whisky, full of flavour, and strong as anything.
I got, slightly more than drunk, Aurin departed with the elf to conduct some business for the church. He’s been looking for an art-crafter for some time. Tera and I talked about Olivia. She’d noticed that I had been asking several questions pertaining to what she understood of our friendship. Others had commented to both of us, inquiring about our status. She was, direct, to the point. Her observant nature picked up on the fact that I was… prying, for more.
I wasn’t aware of this, on the conscious level. I realise now, having thought and slept upon it that the reason why, was because I wanted more from our friendship. I wrote of this before. Some months ago, how I missed her companionship when she wasn’t around, and her truth of aim on a hunt. I believe that, was, my heart. Beginning to open itself, to the possibility of caring again.
I’ve not loved for eight years, I’ve not let myself open up in such a way for that long. Not since I lost my sister all those years ago. I was with a girl I was courting that fateful night when I heard the screams. The Drow raiding our small outskirts, I grabbed my blade, donned my guardsman chain, and tried, just, froze.
I couldn’t do anything but cower. I was there, ready to fight! Ready to clash my steel against these dark creatures! But I was frozen. Stuck, unable to do anything. I’d failed to even do the most basic thing of my oath. I let my sister get taken from my own cowardice, I was away from my family because of skirt-chasing, courting, and gallavanting.
I’ve thought that love, makes you vulnerable. Fraternisation makes you compromised. Caring too much makes you blinded to the truth of what happens. But, what if I’m wrong. Despite all this. I’ve formed a handful of friendships, those who I would do anything for.
Tan. Emma. Aurin. Acorn. Kent.
Tera.
Does this make me weak? Does this make me vulnerable?
I don’t know. I’m finding myself weaved in a complex web of emotions that I don’t quite understand, I find myself caring, sacrificing parts of myself, for these folks. To keep them close, to keep them safe.
I’m compromised.
Is that so bad?
I don’t have a good answer. I feel like I’m giving up, giving up on Olivia. It’s been six years, and I’ve not found her.
Maybe it’s time to accept that she’s not coming back.
Maybe it’s time to let others in.
I finally managed to grab a drink with Aurin. We’ve been meaning to for months now, but the time has never arisen. A few others joined us; Tera amongst them. It was a celebration of finally sorting it out. He makes a fine whisky, full of flavour, and strong as anything.
I got, slightly more than drunk, Aurin departed with the elf to conduct some business for the church. He’s been looking for an art-crafter for some time. Tera and I talked about Olivia. She’d noticed that I had been asking several questions pertaining to what she understood of our friendship. Others had commented to both of us, inquiring about our status. She was, direct, to the point. Her observant nature picked up on the fact that I was… prying, for more.
I wasn’t aware of this, on the conscious level. I realise now, having thought and slept upon it that the reason why, was because I wanted more from our friendship. I wrote of this before. Some months ago, how I missed her companionship when she wasn’t around, and her truth of aim on a hunt. I believe that, was, my heart. Beginning to open itself, to the possibility of caring again.
I’ve not loved for eight years, I’ve not let myself open up in such a way for that long. Not since I lost my sister all those years ago. I was with a girl I was courting that fateful night when I heard the screams. The Drow raiding our small outskirts, I grabbed my blade, donned my guardsman chain, and tried, just, froze.
I couldn’t do anything but cower. I was there, ready to fight! Ready to clash my steel against these dark creatures! But I was frozen. Stuck, unable to do anything. I’d failed to even do the most basic thing of my oath. I let my sister get taken from my own cowardice, I was away from my family because of skirt-chasing, courting, and gallavanting.
I’ve thought that love, makes you vulnerable. Fraternisation makes you compromised. Caring too much makes you blinded to the truth of what happens. But, what if I’m wrong. Despite all this. I’ve formed a handful of friendships, those who I would do anything for.
Tan. Emma. Aurin. Acorn. Kent.
Tera.
Does this make me weak? Does this make me vulnerable?
I don’t know. I’m finding myself weaved in a complex web of emotions that I don’t quite understand, I find myself caring, sacrificing parts of myself, for these folks. To keep them close, to keep them safe.
I’m compromised.
Is that so bad?
I don’t have a good answer. I feel like I’m giving up, giving up on Olivia. It’s been six years, and I’ve not found her.
Maybe it’s time to accept that she’s not coming back.
Maybe it’s time to let others in.
Last edited by Scar on Wed Apr 15, 2020 2:50 am, edited 1 time in total.
Entry Thirteen: A Helmite’s Duty
The Gauntlet. My Command. The task The High Watcher has put upon me to ensure that those who threaten The Isle are put into their place.
I have a clear intent for my command. I know what I desire to do, but the path to how I accomplish this is unclear. I have many friends and allies upon the isle who are certainly capable to aid this goal. I have friends and allies scattered throughout the isle.
The High Watcher has more. More allies, more friends, more resources available to her, she is further established on The Isle of Arelith than I am currently. I must exploit these resources in order to ensure The Gauntlet reaches it’s full potential. We are but a small subsection of the Church, but if we can become as effective of a military arm as the High Watcher envisions, as I envision, I believe we will be a force to be reckoned with.
I have two promising Shieldwarden’s currently, Sergor and Konstantin. Sergor has proven himself to be an incredible asset for the Church. He has found himself well enveloped in my own, and the High Watcher’s Trust. This older man came to the isle with nothing left to him at home; and I wish to provide him a sense of purpose on the Isle.
Sergor’s service to the Church has been noted. We called him to serve as a conduit of divine healing during an incredibly dangerous ritual we conducted to free someone of the curse of shadow. His faith was resolute, and his strength of character astounded me. Under these trials and tribulations, he maintained the link of divine healing into the individual, and certainly ensured their survival.
For this, I promoted him to the rank of Captain; my second in command for the Shield aspect of The Gauntlet. He has stepped into this position, taking hold of the responsibility with the dedication I expect. He has already brought us three recruits in his short tenure in this position.
He’ll do well as a High Watcher, one day.
Konstantin is a different question; his origin is the Damaran Church of Helm. His faith and dogma are much more fervent than the other Helmites I have met thus far. I travelled alongside him during several interesting adventures, and he proved himself to be a useful ally. His magical talents will bolster the ranks of The Gauntlet.
I believe his moral character and integrity will make him a suitable leader for The Gauntlet; but he needs to work on his interpersonal skills. His bluntness and direct manner is liable to offend, but he will express his opinion truthfully, he sees no point in political games. This is something I need in a potential leader; I will speak to him about whether he desires the role.
With respect to my Command; The High Watcher has invoked the ire of many dark forces. I have begun to ensure that those who I have are training and bringing themselves to their peak. This is happening and cultivating the strength of our recruits. I will need their strength in the coming months.
This Ire has led to those who I care about are finding themselves targets for these dark forces. The High Watcher has been nearly taken captive three times in the past two months alone. Tera, Sergor, and a half dozen of my other friends and companions have clashed against the forces of evil and have found themselves in compromised positions.
But; these have all occurred off my watch. During my other duties, whilst I have been elsewhere. I feel an immense guilt. I feel as though I have failed in my service by not being there. They have found themselves staring down the mouths of Balors, Pit Fiends, Psychological Torture and worse.
The searches I have done when called have never come to fruition. Aura and Emma have both found themselves at the torture of these dark foes, and their minds have come back scarred each time. If I was just, more present. If I was there, I could help stop this.
Right?
This I don’t know. I don’t know if my saber would turn the tide of the battle, or if it would be me at the knife. The one being taken for sacrifice; the one being broken by the hammer of evil. I seek to strike at these dark organisations, yet I’m not even there when they strike.
Do I care too much about others to be an effective leader? Is Elias correct in that all commanders lose a bit of their soul, every day, fighting to keep those under their command alive? Will I have to make the sacrifice for the Church to ensure the safety of others? Would my sacrifice do anything? Am I worthy of this?
These are all things I don’t have the answer to. These are the anxieties preying upon my mind. I know the High Watcher is facing some of these same worries. Her guilt over breaking her word. Amd placing too much trust in the wrong people has resulted in her seeking Sergor and I’s judgement on excommunication.
We told her that her waiver in faith was human, and that a Ritual of Purification was required. I assigned a Ritual, to the very same woman who assigned me my first. The world acts in strange ways. I determined that her failure was in her understanding of the threats she sought to deal with, and not her actions.
Her Trial will be difficult, the details of which she must find are dark, evil, and not anything I wish to associate myself with more than I need to.
The High Watcher’s faith cannot waiver, and we cannot lose her resolve. I must ensure that I am a stalwart bastion of faith that she can rely on. I am not a Paladin, I am not a Cleric.
I am just a man. Seeking the safety of those around me.
The Baron of Gloom, Kent DeLocké is a strange character. His intent to assist those around him against the shadows is a noble cause, and his strength of character is respectable. I find myself growing fond of him as a friend. His skills, and magical competency makes him a valuable ally.
We’ve spoken about many matters over the past few months, I’ve found myself able to confide and trust in his judgement. I can see why he and Emma are so close, he’s a good man. Despite his long, storied history.
And lastly; Tera Sane. The Half-Elf Ranger who I’ve found myself in a dalliance with. Her stoic nature makes her hard to read, and I find myself uncertain about what I feel, and whether she is reciprocating those emotions. I find that I care for her more than anyone else on the isle, and well, I’m certain we have begun dating.
I think. It’s hard to tell sometimes, we both find ourselves dragged into conflict through allies, and it has been difficult to find time for her in these past months. I know she cares for me, in her own way. She’s said as much, and I have the support of many people in pursuing her as a partner.
There’s just, lingering thoughts in my mind about her. The concern that I may be putting her at risk, that my emotions towards her are clouding my judgement. This isn’t what I should be feeling? Right?
I shouldn’t feel uncertain towards her, she’s one of my most trusted companions, and one of the best friends I’ve ever had. I find joy in her companionship, even if we are just silently sitting together, watching over the waters.
Am I still feeling guilt over Olivia? Over her loss?
Or is this just inexperience? I haven’t pursued a courtship in nearly a decade. Could this be it?
What is this strange feeling in my stomach that I get whenever I look at her?
Why does my heart race when I’m close to her?
Why?
I don't know.
But I want to find out.
I have a clear intent for my command. I know what I desire to do, but the path to how I accomplish this is unclear. I have many friends and allies upon the isle who are certainly capable to aid this goal. I have friends and allies scattered throughout the isle.
The High Watcher has more. More allies, more friends, more resources available to her, she is further established on The Isle of Arelith than I am currently. I must exploit these resources in order to ensure The Gauntlet reaches it’s full potential. We are but a small subsection of the Church, but if we can become as effective of a military arm as the High Watcher envisions, as I envision, I believe we will be a force to be reckoned with.
I have two promising Shieldwarden’s currently, Sergor and Konstantin. Sergor has proven himself to be an incredible asset for the Church. He has found himself well enveloped in my own, and the High Watcher’s Trust. This older man came to the isle with nothing left to him at home; and I wish to provide him a sense of purpose on the Isle.
Sergor’s service to the Church has been noted. We called him to serve as a conduit of divine healing during an incredibly dangerous ritual we conducted to free someone of the curse of shadow. His faith was resolute, and his strength of character astounded me. Under these trials and tribulations, he maintained the link of divine healing into the individual, and certainly ensured their survival.
For this, I promoted him to the rank of Captain; my second in command for the Shield aspect of The Gauntlet. He has stepped into this position, taking hold of the responsibility with the dedication I expect. He has already brought us three recruits in his short tenure in this position.
He’ll do well as a High Watcher, one day.
Konstantin is a different question; his origin is the Damaran Church of Helm. His faith and dogma are much more fervent than the other Helmites I have met thus far. I travelled alongside him during several interesting adventures, and he proved himself to be a useful ally. His magical talents will bolster the ranks of The Gauntlet.
I believe his moral character and integrity will make him a suitable leader for The Gauntlet; but he needs to work on his interpersonal skills. His bluntness and direct manner is liable to offend, but he will express his opinion truthfully, he sees no point in political games. This is something I need in a potential leader; I will speak to him about whether he desires the role.
With respect to my Command; The High Watcher has invoked the ire of many dark forces. I have begun to ensure that those who I have are training and bringing themselves to their peak. This is happening and cultivating the strength of our recruits. I will need their strength in the coming months.
This Ire has led to those who I care about are finding themselves targets for these dark forces. The High Watcher has been nearly taken captive three times in the past two months alone. Tera, Sergor, and a half dozen of my other friends and companions have clashed against the forces of evil and have found themselves in compromised positions.
But; these have all occurred off my watch. During my other duties, whilst I have been elsewhere. I feel an immense guilt. I feel as though I have failed in my service by not being there. They have found themselves staring down the mouths of Balors, Pit Fiends, Psychological Torture and worse.
The searches I have done when called have never come to fruition. Aura and Emma have both found themselves at the torture of these dark foes, and their minds have come back scarred each time. If I was just, more present. If I was there, I could help stop this.
Right?
This I don’t know. I don’t know if my saber would turn the tide of the battle, or if it would be me at the knife. The one being taken for sacrifice; the one being broken by the hammer of evil. I seek to strike at these dark organisations, yet I’m not even there when they strike.
Do I care too much about others to be an effective leader? Is Elias correct in that all commanders lose a bit of their soul, every day, fighting to keep those under their command alive? Will I have to make the sacrifice for the Church to ensure the safety of others? Would my sacrifice do anything? Am I worthy of this?
These are all things I don’t have the answer to. These are the anxieties preying upon my mind. I know the High Watcher is facing some of these same worries. Her guilt over breaking her word. Amd placing too much trust in the wrong people has resulted in her seeking Sergor and I’s judgement on excommunication.
We told her that her waiver in faith was human, and that a Ritual of Purification was required. I assigned a Ritual, to the very same woman who assigned me my first. The world acts in strange ways. I determined that her failure was in her understanding of the threats she sought to deal with, and not her actions.
Her Trial will be difficult, the details of which she must find are dark, evil, and not anything I wish to associate myself with more than I need to.
The High Watcher’s faith cannot waiver, and we cannot lose her resolve. I must ensure that I am a stalwart bastion of faith that she can rely on. I am not a Paladin, I am not a Cleric.
I am just a man. Seeking the safety of those around me.
The Baron of Gloom, Kent DeLocké is a strange character. His intent to assist those around him against the shadows is a noble cause, and his strength of character is respectable. I find myself growing fond of him as a friend. His skills, and magical competency makes him a valuable ally.
We’ve spoken about many matters over the past few months, I’ve found myself able to confide and trust in his judgement. I can see why he and Emma are so close, he’s a good man. Despite his long, storied history.
And lastly; Tera Sane. The Half-Elf Ranger who I’ve found myself in a dalliance with. Her stoic nature makes her hard to read, and I find myself uncertain about what I feel, and whether she is reciprocating those emotions. I find that I care for her more than anyone else on the isle, and well, I’m certain we have begun dating.
I think. It’s hard to tell sometimes, we both find ourselves dragged into conflict through allies, and it has been difficult to find time for her in these past months. I know she cares for me, in her own way. She’s said as much, and I have the support of many people in pursuing her as a partner.
There’s just, lingering thoughts in my mind about her. The concern that I may be putting her at risk, that my emotions towards her are clouding my judgement. This isn’t what I should be feeling? Right?
I shouldn’t feel uncertain towards her, she’s one of my most trusted companions, and one of the best friends I’ve ever had. I find joy in her companionship, even if we are just silently sitting together, watching over the waters.
Am I still feeling guilt over Olivia? Over her loss?
Or is this just inexperience? I haven’t pursued a courtship in nearly a decade. Could this be it?
What is this strange feeling in my stomach that I get whenever I look at her?
Why does my heart race when I’m close to her?
Why?
I don't know.
But I want to find out.
Last edited by Scar on Wed Apr 15, 2020 2:44 am, edited 1 time in total.
Entry Fourteen: What am I doing?
Sergor inducted a new member to The Gauntlet; and firey young kossuthian by the name of Aika Melve’te’tend. She’s a half-elf, and the niece to a powerful friend of mine. I’ve known Aika for some time, I wouldn’t say we were friends prior. Friendly, at best.
I’ve aided her in the past, we charged after Scabface once; heading into the Cordor Sewers to take on the threat. He cut Aika down and demanded twenty thousand from me. I complied, not wanting Aika to end up down below; knowing that the Goblin’s nature was to enslave those he killed.
This was my first experience with her. And since then, we maintained a friendly distance, her fiery nature is something to witness, her sense of what is good, and what is evil is incredibly black and white. Her lack of ability to comprehend nuance in the world is not something I expected to have to manage as the Commander.
I don’t know if I’m ready to manage such people. To deal with the conflicts in understanding that occur. I have a clear intent of what I want to do, and where flexibility is required.
This difference in intent arose in Sibiyad. The Neutral City; a group of us were heading to relax at a companion’s house when we ran across an Ilythiiri, openly shopping in the bazaar. I was barely able to restrain myself, both in tongue and physically.
Aika, less so. She was outright hostile, throwing slurs, hate, and vitriol towards the Ilythiiri. Something I all wanted to do but was not willing to break the peace of the land. We aren’t in the business of creating more hostility on the surface; even if said location employs slaves and other services.
We are trying to keep people safe; am I breaking the Oath I’ve sworn if I let an Ilythiiri by? Was Aika right? Should we condemn the desert city for it’s neutrality? Or accept it for it’s nature.
I don’t know what to do here. I want to lean towards allowing it be; let the city exist. Neutrality is something we need in the coming days.
I have several other recruits in The Gauntlet that I’ve not seen recently, I heard their training progresses well. I should speak with them, make sure that they know what I want from them.
I’ve found it’s hard to be constantly present; to be there. To show a strong face. I feel like I have a façade up, I often stare into the pool of my room, and am not certain of the man staring back. It begs the question of who am I? What do I seek to do? What remains of Jensen Smythe, the young guard from Helm’s Hold?
I feel like the things I do, the people I am around are so different from that common born smith’s son. Father will still never accept me back; not even if I came back with Olivia in tow. He holds too much anger towards my inaction that day for him to see me as worthy.
That fear I felt; so long ago.
Where did it go?
Why is it, when facing four underdarkers, the fear of death only struck me after I escaped? Why did I mock and jeer the white-haired spellsword. Refer to them as the ‘Pet Spellsword of the Advocate’. Taunt their lost love?
Did I want to die at that moment, felled because of a taunting tongue? Did I want them to bring harm to me? Or was it something simpler, I had been fooled. I had been captured; I wanted to taunt and jeer. Make them draw out knives.
It’s easier to talk; when they carve your flesh. Rather than speak for no cost at all.
Should I have resisted their questioning? The harm of giving names is certainly costly; but I worried for retribution upon it. If I had so chosen, they likely would not have gotten the names from me.
Should I be hiding those in my ranks? Did I make a mistake in revealing them? We should stand proud; we are to be a bastion. We are the hammer in which will strike them down. They will learn our names eventually; why not let them discover what they truly must be concerned about.
Yet the thought lingers; why did I act so foolishly? She was right; I was captured entirely because of my own idiocy. I should not have trusted her when she wanted to travel by the coast. I should not travel alone; I should be aware of the threats that I face in my position.
I can’t always have someone alongside; if I start to refuse to aid others, start to become paranoid and selfish. I go against all the things I truly stand for. All the things The High Watcher has shown me, guided me towards.
The High Watcher trues my compass, my faith to Helm. She’s a blessing. I would truly not know what would occur if she were to be taken from us. Her strength of character keeps us true.
I worry that I’m not able to protect her, to protect anyone. I’m growing a force of powerful individuals. I must use them to protect.
We must maintain vigilance.
We must strike back.
Let the dark fear The Gauntlet’s Light.
Let them rue the day the crossed our path.
I’ve aided her in the past, we charged after Scabface once; heading into the Cordor Sewers to take on the threat. He cut Aika down and demanded twenty thousand from me. I complied, not wanting Aika to end up down below; knowing that the Goblin’s nature was to enslave those he killed.
This was my first experience with her. And since then, we maintained a friendly distance, her fiery nature is something to witness, her sense of what is good, and what is evil is incredibly black and white. Her lack of ability to comprehend nuance in the world is not something I expected to have to manage as the Commander.
I don’t know if I’m ready to manage such people. To deal with the conflicts in understanding that occur. I have a clear intent of what I want to do, and where flexibility is required.
This difference in intent arose in Sibiyad. The Neutral City; a group of us were heading to relax at a companion’s house when we ran across an Ilythiiri, openly shopping in the bazaar. I was barely able to restrain myself, both in tongue and physically.
Aika, less so. She was outright hostile, throwing slurs, hate, and vitriol towards the Ilythiiri. Something I all wanted to do but was not willing to break the peace of the land. We aren’t in the business of creating more hostility on the surface; even if said location employs slaves and other services.
We are trying to keep people safe; am I breaking the Oath I’ve sworn if I let an Ilythiiri by? Was Aika right? Should we condemn the desert city for it’s neutrality? Or accept it for it’s nature.
I don’t know what to do here. I want to lean towards allowing it be; let the city exist. Neutrality is something we need in the coming days.
I have several other recruits in The Gauntlet that I’ve not seen recently, I heard their training progresses well. I should speak with them, make sure that they know what I want from them.
I’ve found it’s hard to be constantly present; to be there. To show a strong face. I feel like I have a façade up, I often stare into the pool of my room, and am not certain of the man staring back. It begs the question of who am I? What do I seek to do? What remains of Jensen Smythe, the young guard from Helm’s Hold?
I feel like the things I do, the people I am around are so different from that common born smith’s son. Father will still never accept me back; not even if I came back with Olivia in tow. He holds too much anger towards my inaction that day for him to see me as worthy.
That fear I felt; so long ago.
Where did it go?
Why is it, when facing four underdarkers, the fear of death only struck me after I escaped? Why did I mock and jeer the white-haired spellsword. Refer to them as the ‘Pet Spellsword of the Advocate’. Taunt their lost love?
Did I want to die at that moment, felled because of a taunting tongue? Did I want them to bring harm to me? Or was it something simpler, I had been fooled. I had been captured; I wanted to taunt and jeer. Make them draw out knives.
It’s easier to talk; when they carve your flesh. Rather than speak for no cost at all.
Should I have resisted their questioning? The harm of giving names is certainly costly; but I worried for retribution upon it. If I had so chosen, they likely would not have gotten the names from me.
Should I be hiding those in my ranks? Did I make a mistake in revealing them? We should stand proud; we are to be a bastion. We are the hammer in which will strike them down. They will learn our names eventually; why not let them discover what they truly must be concerned about.
Yet the thought lingers; why did I act so foolishly? She was right; I was captured entirely because of my own idiocy. I should not have trusted her when she wanted to travel by the coast. I should not travel alone; I should be aware of the threats that I face in my position.
I can’t always have someone alongside; if I start to refuse to aid others, start to become paranoid and selfish. I go against all the things I truly stand for. All the things The High Watcher has shown me, guided me towards.
The High Watcher trues my compass, my faith to Helm. She’s a blessing. I would truly not know what would occur if she were to be taken from us. Her strength of character keeps us true.
I worry that I’m not able to protect her, to protect anyone. I’m growing a force of powerful individuals. I must use them to protect.
We must maintain vigilance.
We must strike back.
Let the dark fear The Gauntlet’s Light.
Let them rue the day the crossed our path.
Last edited by Scar on Wed Apr 15, 2020 2:43 am, edited 1 time in total.
Entry Fifteen: The Nature of Failure
Friendship, the concept of it. I understand it to mean someone that you find pleasure in being around. Someone who you trust and speak to about. Mutual trust and affection. Some you bring closer, some further.
Maya Ashald was a friend who I held further away than most. She was always a hard individual to read, I never understood her internal thoughts. For all I know, she could have hated me, and I would never have known. But I considered her as a friend, once.
Now, I’m not certain. She’s become distant, hateful. I find myself tied up with meetings and church business, leaving me little time for much else. She has come to resent the excuses I have thrown, and threw an outburst of rage at me during a time of my own grief.
I saw her speaking with Tera, when I arrived. Both women sighed; it hurt me to see both exhausted by my presence. But I have not been a good friend to Ashald, and a worse partner to Sane. It is difficult, leading an organisation such as the Gauntlet, being in opposition with the worst the world has to offer.
I truly don’t know how I can fix this, I’ve driven her away. I wasn’t there for her during her enslavement, during her accusations, during anything over the past months.
I’m a bad friend, and I don’t think I’m getting any better. It doesn’t help that I find myself against Dark folks; the truly dark and depraved. One such individual is Keph; Void Cultist. Her nature perturbs me. Her ability to maintain out of sight and yet appear to those she desires to be seen by is… uncanny. She approached me, making an offer that tempted me deeply. I considered it, an easy route to obtain what we wanted, if I just gave her one thing.
Her ability to obtain and unravel information is unparalleled, of all the threats that I face on the isle, this woman, this creature is the one that perturbs me the most. She doesn’t fight in the light like the infernalists do, she is public, yet hidden.
I’ve been having visions, nightmares. The crooked, broken teeth smiling at me as the shadow whispers to me. Murmurs of my failures. Mocks and jeers, continues to worm its way into my mind. As much as I try to banish the imagery of her in the Shadow Asylum, it finds its way back.
Because of what?
Guilt? Failure?
I can’t figure it out. I know these nightmares seed from our failure in the Shadowplane. The Void Cultists were testing something, a device that blurs realities. They intended to test it on some derelicts who inhabited the sewers. We gathered nearly forty of Arelith’s finest to intercept and disrupt their test.
We failed.
We failed so very much.
We were guarding the Temple of Mask, waiting for the captured subjects to come through, to intercept and make their tests harder. Delay progress on the project when we got one. Singular Speedy.
He said: “The Sharrans are activating the engine in the Shade Asylum.”
And that was where we failed. We went in to the asylum, cut through the hordes of shadow to get to the lair of the test. We enter; we hear one thing from our allies.
“ATTACK.”
And then it was a blur, I charged Bjorn Frostcloak, intending to cut him down with my saber. A disjunction was thrown, my wards went down, I clashed with a monastic warrior. We were evenly matched, and then an eldritch horror appeared. I felt my mind tear from my body, extracting my soul into the fugue.
Things got blurry after that, I awoke in a cell with Keph and Aurin. The Void Cultist wanting information from me. She left me with the man who I know as a friend, Aurin.
He magically induced darkness, and then… tendrils of fear wove into my mind, I found myself back at that day. Faced by the Ilythiiri who captured Olivia, the anger of my father, the beating I received that day. Everything came through to me at that time.
I broke, my mind shattered.
I wept, screamed, shook.
I failed. My will was spread across the cell like butter. The only thing that saved me from my fear was my cloak, it’s weight and strength soothed my mine. I found my resolve. I faced the shadow in front of me. It threatened me, putting an knife to my eye. It wanted names.
I gave it some.
Not the ones it wanted.
Then hell broke loose. Another force charged in.
They died.
We all did.
Idiots.
How could we be so foolish? To attack them at their strength.
Three waves of our finest, each repelled, each discarded.
More bodies than they could deal with…
More prisoners than they could deal with…
I was forgotten.
Am I so unimportant that I get left in the cell?
Left behind.
By everyone?
I can’t say, it was an impossible situation. They left, and I just walked away. Forgotten, insignificant, unimportant. I saw Emma after the escape; I couldn’t look her in the eye. I’d failed her.
I’d failed the church.
I’d failed everyone.
How do I progress from here? It’s obvious to me that the Void Cultists require a special hand to deal with, but I have no idea how I can influence this. I’m not a man skilled in subterfuge. I am a hammer and this needs a scalpel.
I’m truly lost here, and that is what has been weighing on my mind. I feel hopelessness. It brings my mind back to the first time I found myself behind bars.
With the white-haired Kingsley. The Spellsword Aurin had warned me of.
I’ve heard only rumours of this woman, her strength of character, her fortitude, and her strength. She is a formidable warrior, but yet; when she unveiled herself that day. I only saw grief. The woman had felt her love taken from her.
But during Dregans’ capture we found her willing to be captured by us. Imagine my surprise when I walk into the Church of Helm, and I find Jezebel-Freaking-Kingsley sitting there in shackles.
I wanted to strike her. I wanted to scream, shout, and take out my rage at all the things she has done to my friends.
But I didn’t.
Because she came for Emma; for Dregan.
For what reason? I don’t understand. She traded herself to us for a chance to get Emma’s love back into her arms.
It just leaves me with one question.
What in the nine hells of Baator is her deal?
I don’t know. Yet I feel that she cares for the wellbeing of Emma and Dregan, as insane as that sounds. We have a common ancestry there, in caring for Emma.
I realise now that I was deeply in love with the High Watcher, I wanted to be by her side, as Knight-Commander and Lover, but it appeared that Helm had different plans for us. She found companionship in Dregan, and now I feel that raging inferno of confusing emotions dulled to a roar of a fire.
I do still love her, but it is a platonic love, a love between friends. I’ll stand by her to the very end. She is the compass of my faith, and more important to me than any would know.
Which has led to strain on my relationship with Tera; my heart. The woman who I owe so much to. I care so much for her, I feel the strain in my heart when I see her hurt, and ecstasy when I am close. There is a raw desire there, and a deeper companionship than I know.
Yet I am conflicted; what happens if my faith and my love come to odds.
What would I do?
Who do I follow?
I truly can’t tell you.
But I know that it would break me to have to choose. I have to ensure that we don’t end up in conflict, because I know that I would not be strong enough to maintain my faith and the love I hold for Tera.
Why must everything be so confusing?
Why must everything hurt?
Why must this be my trial?
Why?
Helm, please guide me in these coming days. It will not be easy.
Maya Ashald was a friend who I held further away than most. She was always a hard individual to read, I never understood her internal thoughts. For all I know, she could have hated me, and I would never have known. But I considered her as a friend, once.
Now, I’m not certain. She’s become distant, hateful. I find myself tied up with meetings and church business, leaving me little time for much else. She has come to resent the excuses I have thrown, and threw an outburst of rage at me during a time of my own grief.
I saw her speaking with Tera, when I arrived. Both women sighed; it hurt me to see both exhausted by my presence. But I have not been a good friend to Ashald, and a worse partner to Sane. It is difficult, leading an organisation such as the Gauntlet, being in opposition with the worst the world has to offer.
I truly don’t know how I can fix this, I’ve driven her away. I wasn’t there for her during her enslavement, during her accusations, during anything over the past months.
I’m a bad friend, and I don’t think I’m getting any better. It doesn’t help that I find myself against Dark folks; the truly dark and depraved. One such individual is Keph; Void Cultist. Her nature perturbs me. Her ability to maintain out of sight and yet appear to those she desires to be seen by is… uncanny. She approached me, making an offer that tempted me deeply. I considered it, an easy route to obtain what we wanted, if I just gave her one thing.
Her ability to obtain and unravel information is unparalleled, of all the threats that I face on the isle, this woman, this creature is the one that perturbs me the most. She doesn’t fight in the light like the infernalists do, she is public, yet hidden.
I’ve been having visions, nightmares. The crooked, broken teeth smiling at me as the shadow whispers to me. Murmurs of my failures. Mocks and jeers, continues to worm its way into my mind. As much as I try to banish the imagery of her in the Shadow Asylum, it finds its way back.
Because of what?
Guilt? Failure?
I can’t figure it out. I know these nightmares seed from our failure in the Shadowplane. The Void Cultists were testing something, a device that blurs realities. They intended to test it on some derelicts who inhabited the sewers. We gathered nearly forty of Arelith’s finest to intercept and disrupt their test.
We failed.
We failed so very much.
We were guarding the Temple of Mask, waiting for the captured subjects to come through, to intercept and make their tests harder. Delay progress on the project when we got one. Singular Speedy.
He said: “The Sharrans are activating the engine in the Shade Asylum.”
And that was where we failed. We went in to the asylum, cut through the hordes of shadow to get to the lair of the test. We enter; we hear one thing from our allies.
“ATTACK.”
And then it was a blur, I charged Bjorn Frostcloak, intending to cut him down with my saber. A disjunction was thrown, my wards went down, I clashed with a monastic warrior. We were evenly matched, and then an eldritch horror appeared. I felt my mind tear from my body, extracting my soul into the fugue.
Things got blurry after that, I awoke in a cell with Keph and Aurin. The Void Cultist wanting information from me. She left me with the man who I know as a friend, Aurin.
He magically induced darkness, and then… tendrils of fear wove into my mind, I found myself back at that day. Faced by the Ilythiiri who captured Olivia, the anger of my father, the beating I received that day. Everything came through to me at that time.
I broke, my mind shattered.
I wept, screamed, shook.
I failed. My will was spread across the cell like butter. The only thing that saved me from my fear was my cloak, it’s weight and strength soothed my mine. I found my resolve. I faced the shadow in front of me. It threatened me, putting an knife to my eye. It wanted names.
I gave it some.
Not the ones it wanted.
Then hell broke loose. Another force charged in.
They died.
We all did.
Idiots.
How could we be so foolish? To attack them at their strength.
Three waves of our finest, each repelled, each discarded.
More bodies than they could deal with…
More prisoners than they could deal with…
I was forgotten.
Am I so unimportant that I get left in the cell?
Left behind.
By everyone?
I can’t say, it was an impossible situation. They left, and I just walked away. Forgotten, insignificant, unimportant. I saw Emma after the escape; I couldn’t look her in the eye. I’d failed her.
I’d failed the church.
I’d failed everyone.
How do I progress from here? It’s obvious to me that the Void Cultists require a special hand to deal with, but I have no idea how I can influence this. I’m not a man skilled in subterfuge. I am a hammer and this needs a scalpel.
I’m truly lost here, and that is what has been weighing on my mind. I feel hopelessness. It brings my mind back to the first time I found myself behind bars.
With the white-haired Kingsley. The Spellsword Aurin had warned me of.
I’ve heard only rumours of this woman, her strength of character, her fortitude, and her strength. She is a formidable warrior, but yet; when she unveiled herself that day. I only saw grief. The woman had felt her love taken from her.
But during Dregans’ capture we found her willing to be captured by us. Imagine my surprise when I walk into the Church of Helm, and I find Jezebel-Freaking-Kingsley sitting there in shackles.
I wanted to strike her. I wanted to scream, shout, and take out my rage at all the things she has done to my friends.
But I didn’t.
Because she came for Emma; for Dregan.
For what reason? I don’t understand. She traded herself to us for a chance to get Emma’s love back into her arms.
It just leaves me with one question.
What in the nine hells of Baator is her deal?
I don’t know. Yet I feel that she cares for the wellbeing of Emma and Dregan, as insane as that sounds. We have a common ancestry there, in caring for Emma.
I realise now that I was deeply in love with the High Watcher, I wanted to be by her side, as Knight-Commander and Lover, but it appeared that Helm had different plans for us. She found companionship in Dregan, and now I feel that raging inferno of confusing emotions dulled to a roar of a fire.
I do still love her, but it is a platonic love, a love between friends. I’ll stand by her to the very end. She is the compass of my faith, and more important to me than any would know.
Which has led to strain on my relationship with Tera; my heart. The woman who I owe so much to. I care so much for her, I feel the strain in my heart when I see her hurt, and ecstasy when I am close. There is a raw desire there, and a deeper companionship than I know.
Yet I am conflicted; what happens if my faith and my love come to odds.
What would I do?
Who do I follow?
I truly can’t tell you.
But I know that it would break me to have to choose. I have to ensure that we don’t end up in conflict, because I know that I would not be strong enough to maintain my faith and the love I hold for Tera.
Why must everything be so confusing?
Why must everything hurt?
Why must this be my trial?
Why?
Helm, please guide me in these coming days. It will not be easy.
Last edited by Scar on Wed Apr 15, 2020 2:43 am, edited 1 time in total.
Entry Sixteen: Olivia
It’s been some time since I’ve written about Olivia; my younger sister. The joyful, loving sister who I lost.
I truly wonder what has become of her. My search for her thus far has proven futile; the reason for me originally coming to the Isle of Arelith has been… fruitless so far. She was always so bright, full of hope. Asking me dozens of questions as I returned from a shift as a guard. Inquiring about what I learnt, what I saw.
I always told her; exaggerated the story a bit, adding a bit of wonderment into my every day, boring routine. Who would want to know that her Brother polished fourteen blades, and sharpened sixteen more? I’d embellish the tale for her, claim that it was a great Paladin of Helm seeking sharp blades for his travels, and that he came to me to sharpen it for him.
She obviously didn’t believe all the tales, but she loved them, nonetheless. It’s hard to imagine what she’d look like these days; how much does she look like me. Is there a strong family link? What changes did her capture invoke upon her? Is she even still alive?
I don’t know; this only comes up because of Berenor and Arihalys. My past approached us, a reminder of the people I failed because I was away with Baker. The first girl I ever loved.
If teenage infatuation could be considered as such. We were young and stupid. Told by our parents to focus on our trades, we’d sneak away from our duties into the forest. Kiss under the great oak; picnic, camp.
She was a kind girl, Baker. But my infatuation lead to failure of vigilance on my family. The raid occurred; the one that I’ve written about so much. The day I lost Olivia; and watched the skin be flayed from my mother’s back.
I truly don’t know if Olivia is alive anymore; but if I hear anything… I know I’d shift mountains to find her.
Helm, please don’t let this inkling of hope be my failing.
Please let Olivia be safe.
I truly wonder what has become of her. My search for her thus far has proven futile; the reason for me originally coming to the Isle of Arelith has been… fruitless so far. She was always so bright, full of hope. Asking me dozens of questions as I returned from a shift as a guard. Inquiring about what I learnt, what I saw.
I always told her; exaggerated the story a bit, adding a bit of wonderment into my every day, boring routine. Who would want to know that her Brother polished fourteen blades, and sharpened sixteen more? I’d embellish the tale for her, claim that it was a great Paladin of Helm seeking sharp blades for his travels, and that he came to me to sharpen it for him.
She obviously didn’t believe all the tales, but she loved them, nonetheless. It’s hard to imagine what she’d look like these days; how much does she look like me. Is there a strong family link? What changes did her capture invoke upon her? Is she even still alive?
I don’t know; this only comes up because of Berenor and Arihalys. My past approached us, a reminder of the people I failed because I was away with Baker. The first girl I ever loved.
If teenage infatuation could be considered as such. We were young and stupid. Told by our parents to focus on our trades, we’d sneak away from our duties into the forest. Kiss under the great oak; picnic, camp.
She was a kind girl, Baker. But my infatuation lead to failure of vigilance on my family. The raid occurred; the one that I’ve written about so much. The day I lost Olivia; and watched the skin be flayed from my mother’s back.
I truly don’t know if Olivia is alive anymore; but if I hear anything… I know I’d shift mountains to find her.
Helm, please don’t let this inkling of hope be my failing.
Please let Olivia be safe.
Last edited by Scar on Wed Apr 15, 2020 2:42 am, edited 1 time in total.
Entry Seventeen: Ch-Ch-Changes
I’ve been incredibly focused over the past few months, that I’ve neglected you, dear journal. With Emma’s return, things only increased in their intensity. I feel like I haven’t really had a moment to sit down and think about anything, reflect on what I’ve done, where I am.
I’m currently sitting here, in the office of the Radiant Heart. The fire splutters and barks small bursts of flame and sparks, providing a comforting heat to the room. It’s a peaceful place, that I’ve come to respect as a bastion for meditation. Much has happened in the past year, and I haven’t taken the time to truly write it down.
Firstly, I should write about Tug and her death. It’s been nearly six months since Tug passed. The Orcblood Knight of Torm, a shining light of hope. She was fighting off a serious infection, many had tried their best to extend her life… But there’s only so much one can do before the ravages of time cause them to pass beyond the veil.
I miss her, the Statue we erected of her brings a sad smile to my face every time I stare at it. She was one of the strongest hearts I ever met. Her nature was kind, and she was always there to help. I’m not sure how we step forward from here, but I know that there isn’t time for us to wallow in misery forever. She wouldn’t want us to mourn.
We continue forward. For Tug. Lest we forgot what she did for us.
In the spirit of pressing forward, I finally asked Tera to marry me. She’d been hinting at me doing such for a while. There was a church meeting where I was asked if we were married, and she simply stared at me with a deadpan look, and asked “… I don’t know, are we dear?”
I truly didn’t have a response at the time. Emma and Dregan had just gotten engaged, Sergor and Aika had as well. It truly felt like if I asked, I’d be merely following in the trend. I wasn’t even certain if she would say yes!
I asked in the Logjam, Guldorand was special for Tera. The Logging Camp is rather close to nature, we’ve spent quite a bit of time around there just… wandering the lands. I thought it was appropriate… I did want to take her into the wilds but well, after getting Emma to make the ring.
I couldn’t wait any longer. She said yes! My heart was racing the entire time, I knew she’d say it, but hearing her agree? It was truly one of the happiest moments of my life, seeing the normally emotionally neutral Tera Sane blush and grin? I’ll never forget the look on her face.
Now we just need to find some time for the wedding. Likely after we’ve both finished petitioning our gods for Divine Blessings.
Which leads me to… How I’ve become a Divine Champion for Helm. After the Shadow Asylum, I realised that my mental fortitude was weak, my will was easily bent to the control of the Shadowy Warrior who inked my mind with fear. Bringing back the tainted memories that I try so hard to forget.
I began with study. Reading all the lore we contained within our walls. Helm’s Dogma was familiar to me, but if I pursued this path. I would need to know more. The history of Helm, his conflicts. Enemies. Foes. Allies.
It was quite a time of enlightenment. I learnt far more than I expected to in that time. After that, it was time to refocus my skills as a Master of the Sabre, to become a Master of His Weapon, the Bastard Sword. The process of refocusing the Ki I channel into the Sabre, allowing me to strike through my enemy’s guard and show their weakness.
Once I was ready, a master of that blade. I began the steps of petitioning Helm for his blessing. Nightly Prayers, study, focus. I spoke with Emma, The High Watcher, for her blessing to pursue this path. We sat before His Altar, the tri-fold state in the Radiant Heart.
It was that day that he granted me his Divine Blessing; the ability to invoke his Wrath against those who would do us harm. It’s a boon; making my will stronger, reflexes sharper, and my strikes more accurate.
I am a Divine Champion of Helm
I will ensure the safety of the Innocent.
I’m currently sitting here, in the office of the Radiant Heart. The fire splutters and barks small bursts of flame and sparks, providing a comforting heat to the room. It’s a peaceful place, that I’ve come to respect as a bastion for meditation. Much has happened in the past year, and I haven’t taken the time to truly write it down.
Firstly, I should write about Tug and her death. It’s been nearly six months since Tug passed. The Orcblood Knight of Torm, a shining light of hope. She was fighting off a serious infection, many had tried their best to extend her life… But there’s only so much one can do before the ravages of time cause them to pass beyond the veil.
I miss her, the Statue we erected of her brings a sad smile to my face every time I stare at it. She was one of the strongest hearts I ever met. Her nature was kind, and she was always there to help. I’m not sure how we step forward from here, but I know that there isn’t time for us to wallow in misery forever. She wouldn’t want us to mourn.
We continue forward. For Tug. Lest we forgot what she did for us.
In the spirit of pressing forward, I finally asked Tera to marry me. She’d been hinting at me doing such for a while. There was a church meeting where I was asked if we were married, and she simply stared at me with a deadpan look, and asked “… I don’t know, are we dear?”
I truly didn’t have a response at the time. Emma and Dregan had just gotten engaged, Sergor and Aika had as well. It truly felt like if I asked, I’d be merely following in the trend. I wasn’t even certain if she would say yes!
I asked in the Logjam, Guldorand was special for Tera. The Logging Camp is rather close to nature, we’ve spent quite a bit of time around there just… wandering the lands. I thought it was appropriate… I did want to take her into the wilds but well, after getting Emma to make the ring.
I couldn’t wait any longer. She said yes! My heart was racing the entire time, I knew she’d say it, but hearing her agree? It was truly one of the happiest moments of my life, seeing the normally emotionally neutral Tera Sane blush and grin? I’ll never forget the look on her face.
Now we just need to find some time for the wedding. Likely after we’ve both finished petitioning our gods for Divine Blessings.
Which leads me to… How I’ve become a Divine Champion for Helm. After the Shadow Asylum, I realised that my mental fortitude was weak, my will was easily bent to the control of the Shadowy Warrior who inked my mind with fear. Bringing back the tainted memories that I try so hard to forget.
I began with study. Reading all the lore we contained within our walls. Helm’s Dogma was familiar to me, but if I pursued this path. I would need to know more. The history of Helm, his conflicts. Enemies. Foes. Allies.
It was quite a time of enlightenment. I learnt far more than I expected to in that time. After that, it was time to refocus my skills as a Master of the Sabre, to become a Master of His Weapon, the Bastard Sword. The process of refocusing the Ki I channel into the Sabre, allowing me to strike through my enemy’s guard and show their weakness.
Once I was ready, a master of that blade. I began the steps of petitioning Helm for his blessing. Nightly Prayers, study, focus. I spoke with Emma, The High Watcher, for her blessing to pursue this path. We sat before His Altar, the tri-fold state in the Radiant Heart.
It was that day that he granted me his Divine Blessing; the ability to invoke his Wrath against those who would do us harm. It’s a boon; making my will stronger, reflexes sharper, and my strikes more accurate.
I am a Divine Champion of Helm
I will ensure the safety of the Innocent.
Entry Eighteen: Neli Ore
Sometimes, despite your relentless efforts. One thing remains to be an ever-present threat. For the Church of Helm. That persistent thorn, that enemy, the truest foe that we have had was Neli Ore.
Neli Ore, the Abyssalist.
Neli Ore, the Amnian
Neli Ore, the Black Bride.
This creature had many names. But the most important was:
Neli Ore, enemy of the Church.
This warlock was a thorn in the church’s side for longer than I’ve been on the isle. She sought power, she sought chaos, she sought to serve her dark overlord.
She sought to break the chain.
The woman was a scared little amnian orphan. Once upon a time. She was brought into a pact at a time of weakness. Completely willing in her decision for his power.
This search for power eventually found her death. Emma brought The Forgery of the Royal Sword of Starlight through her breast. Breaking the barriers that kept her bound to this plane and freeing her from the cycle.
We broke her chain.
Ore is dead.
We have killed her.
May her soul rest ever more.
The woman could never have been redeemed. This I know. She was a dark, wholly corrupted creature who had embraced what she did. Relentlessly pressing forward despite everything. Binding demons, invoking profane powers to enact The Dark Angel’s will. Corrupting, seducing, murdering countless numbers of folk in pursuit of her one goal.
Releasing Weston Cain.
Whether she loved Weston, I do not know. But there was a spark of something that drove her to gather the artefacts. Something beyond simple fanaticism and zealotry.
Maybe it was love.
Maybe it was The Angel’s profane whispers.
But what mattered were the things she needed.
The Blood. The Dust. The Swords. The Girl.
The devices she needed to unleash untold horrors upon the plane of Arelith. The devices we swore to keep out of her hands.
With the aid of some of the best men and women I know, we sought to destroy her. We succeeded in the end. But not with our own trials. We made our way to the Abyss.
Elliara, Emma, Dregan, Mather, Tera, Tenoch and Konstantin. We fought through the Abyss. Marching and striking at each step. The Abyss sent out it’s hordes.
They met our steel. Beset-Was-Creation was felled in our search for the Maw. But the twisting, profane nature of that hellish place knew our intent. It stopped us in our quest. The storms and twisting sands made it impossible to proceed.
We nearly lost hope, but Emma. A Beacon of Helm gathered us in prayer. We knelt in the sands. The raging inferno about us and prayed.
We prayed to Helm.
To Tyr.
To Mielikki.
To Sehahine and the Seladrine.
Our prayers were answered by one man. Baldric Pyrecroft, Oathkeeper of the Order of the Stranger. Paladin of Torm. Sacrificed and captured by Ore in his twisted schemes. He came to us, using the last of his strength to answer our prayers. Twisting the fabric of the Abyss itself to meld us to the Fortress. The Lake.
We marched forward. The Seven of Us. Those harmed by Ore most. The ones she wanted to harm in pursuit of her aims. We found them. Ore leering over Mordan. About to sacrifice the man who new the Black Bride’s betrothed so well.
We made our demands. Mordan released. Ore demanded the swords. Westons, Baldrics, the Ancient Kings.
We stood our ground, readied our blades…
And then. Darkness.
I awoke in Castle Gloom. My body and soul aching.
I had fallen in the line of duty. Helm had restored me on the mortal coil. It was not my time to pass beyond. I had done what I could to stop Ore. But I failed, I was the first to be felled in the line of battle.
But my fall gave Emma the time she needed to strike down Ore.
To fell her forever.
To release her from her binds.
To fulfil our oaths.
May the suffering girl suffer no more.
May those who failed her give her aid in her darkest hour seek forgiveness for the horrors they beset upon us.
Neli Ore, the Abyssalist.
Neli Ore, the Amnian
Neli Ore, the Black Bride.
This creature had many names. But the most important was:
Neli Ore, enemy of the Church.
This warlock was a thorn in the church’s side for longer than I’ve been on the isle. She sought power, she sought chaos, she sought to serve her dark overlord.
She sought to break the chain.
The woman was a scared little amnian orphan. Once upon a time. She was brought into a pact at a time of weakness. Completely willing in her decision for his power.
This search for power eventually found her death. Emma brought The Forgery of the Royal Sword of Starlight through her breast. Breaking the barriers that kept her bound to this plane and freeing her from the cycle.
We broke her chain.
Ore is dead.
We have killed her.
May her soul rest ever more.
The woman could never have been redeemed. This I know. She was a dark, wholly corrupted creature who had embraced what she did. Relentlessly pressing forward despite everything. Binding demons, invoking profane powers to enact The Dark Angel’s will. Corrupting, seducing, murdering countless numbers of folk in pursuit of her one goal.
Releasing Weston Cain.
Whether she loved Weston, I do not know. But there was a spark of something that drove her to gather the artefacts. Something beyond simple fanaticism and zealotry.
Maybe it was love.
Maybe it was The Angel’s profane whispers.
But what mattered were the things she needed.
The Blood. The Dust. The Swords. The Girl.
The devices she needed to unleash untold horrors upon the plane of Arelith. The devices we swore to keep out of her hands.
With the aid of some of the best men and women I know, we sought to destroy her. We succeeded in the end. But not with our own trials. We made our way to the Abyss.
Elliara, Emma, Dregan, Mather, Tera, Tenoch and Konstantin. We fought through the Abyss. Marching and striking at each step. The Abyss sent out it’s hordes.
They met our steel. Beset-Was-Creation was felled in our search for the Maw. But the twisting, profane nature of that hellish place knew our intent. It stopped us in our quest. The storms and twisting sands made it impossible to proceed.
We nearly lost hope, but Emma. A Beacon of Helm gathered us in prayer. We knelt in the sands. The raging inferno about us and prayed.
We prayed to Helm.
To Tyr.
To Mielikki.
To Sehahine and the Seladrine.
Our prayers were answered by one man. Baldric Pyrecroft, Oathkeeper of the Order of the Stranger. Paladin of Torm. Sacrificed and captured by Ore in his twisted schemes. He came to us, using the last of his strength to answer our prayers. Twisting the fabric of the Abyss itself to meld us to the Fortress. The Lake.
We marched forward. The Seven of Us. Those harmed by Ore most. The ones she wanted to harm in pursuit of her aims. We found them. Ore leering over Mordan. About to sacrifice the man who new the Black Bride’s betrothed so well.
We made our demands. Mordan released. Ore demanded the swords. Westons, Baldrics, the Ancient Kings.
We stood our ground, readied our blades…
And then. Darkness.
I awoke in Castle Gloom. My body and soul aching.
I had fallen in the line of duty. Helm had restored me on the mortal coil. It was not my time to pass beyond. I had done what I could to stop Ore. But I failed, I was the first to be felled in the line of battle.
But my fall gave Emma the time she needed to strike down Ore.
To fell her forever.
To release her from her binds.
To fulfil our oaths.
May the suffering girl suffer no more.
May those who failed her give her aid in her darkest hour seek forgiveness for the horrors they beset upon us.