Notes and illustrations of a Dawnguard

[DeSanti]

It has a been a while since I've taken up the quill again. Writing does not come natural to me and I still feel torn whether to spend time and have a decent (readable) handwriting or merely scribble as quick as I'd like. I have, as with many things, decided for a compromise.

My grand journey to this new and strange world has been fraught with peril and spending time where I'd rather not. The smell of sewage still lingers on my effects. But as humble new beginnings go, this one has been thus far been successful. I've managed to earn coin, met wonderous and kind people - I have seen the good that can flourish in every creature.

A new dawn, that is what I've seen this as. As religious as it is personal. Yet, for all such good, I am filled with a sense of dread.

A few nights ago I was at the Nomad tavern and I heard tales of fellow followers of the Faith. Lathander's church is big, indeed, so I was not too surprised. Yet I was more surprised to hear of their dismay; that these particular followers were zealous, to the point it lingered on dangerous. Now I admit I have met my share of Awakened of the Morninglord who might seem enthusiastic to the point it makes people of other faiths uncomfortable, so it not incur too much dismay in me to hear so.

But just as I was talking to this lovely woman and her companion, and elderly sage with an affinity for explosions, the faithful had indeed entered the Inn. It was difficult to comprehend.

As a tempest they came with bluster and news of a crusade, all in the name of the Sun, and their speeches and psalms had the flavour of zealotry that I found difficult to comprehend. Their terms were different, though that in itself was no cause for alarm, but they spoke of absolutes, of swords falling upon the wicked, of being judges, executioners and above temporal law.

What made the most impression was their expressions. I have met many people in my journeys, I remember fondly the warm smile of an elven man I just recently met on these island, of the chuckle and merry dispositions of a tribal dwarf who helped me in the sewers. Of the gnome lady who offered to make me a sword merely as a gesture of goodwill. They all had a warmth bright as a sun and a kindness I will not forget.

These two, however, these two sisters had neither. One, in particular, looked at me with her icy blue eyes and I felt the expression hollow. No, not hollow. It was a void, it was not a window to any soul but rather a doorway into something dark and terrible. Accompanied by smiles that held neither warmth nor joy, instead they were brutal displays of a complete and absolute certainty of the world that was difficult to comprehend. Even now, as I write, I shudder upon the recollection.

I have become certain that these two do not preach any orthodox path of Lathander and I am afraid they walk the path of heresy to which grave catastrophe can follow anyone swept up by their desperate zealotry. I have therefore decided I must investigate this further. Their heresy, their intentions, their characters. If they risk damage on the good name of the Morninglord, action may be required.

Though I fear what, exactly, such actions would be.

I pray the dawn comes with softer hearts and purer intentions for a new morrow. I pray to Lathander for strength, in all things. I pray I am wrong and need not worry. But most of all, I pray for them.

- Giscard Soleil, third day of Alturiak.




[excerpt from the a page in the journal]

[DeSanti]

I have done it.

I found a member of the Order of the Radiant Heart, rather ironically when asking my good friend Cailo if he knew how to get to the headquarters of the Order. He introduced me to a man, master Demetrios who by chance happened to be a member! We still took the journey to their lands, and it was a journey I would have surely perished on if not for them.

Once there I was in awe of their presence, it seemed almost a part of the celestial heavens than on this earth. But even in such a place of righteousness, not all was as I had hoped.

I am afraid to put the specifics in this book in fear of losing it, but I must trust that they have at least heeded me. For now I must pursue other avenues to my investigation, though I fear I am losing time. This maddening crusade is gaining traction and the sisters are never idle, that is a fault I can not accuse them of.

Even during our journey we met the sisters not once, but three times! Had I a mind for paranoia I'd fear this intentional, but I have thus far put this is on unhappy circumstance. Though doubt beset me. Perhaps they know more than they let on.

I fear that in the end I must speak to them, and I fear that conversation.

Lathander give me strength and courage to embrace the new dawn ahead.



[Excerpt of a page]

((note illustrations of players are quite possibly not accurate as how the own players' meant for them to look, but are the interpretation of this player))

[DeSanti]

I scarcely know where to begin.

Perhaps there is no beginning to this and one must plunge into the heart of the matter and try to get any sense of it.

Yesterday I spoke with Faith, the woman who I had been investigating and worried about in regards to her belief. People believe they are that of the Morninglord, but the truth is something far more terrifying and yet wonderous in magnitude. I fear that if I write the exact details of the heresy then the very ink on paper will transform wickedness and all manner of ills upon it so I shall keep that locked in my heart and pray for my soul who bears it.

Our conversation was not auspicious, and when she led me to the tavern I had in fact not a clue as to what the outcome would be. I think in the end, neither of us had expected the result. For it became a matter of truth -- to oneself and other, where words were freely spoken and while she did her best to keep that eerie composure even she, in rapture or doubt, broke the spell. I held no such constraint and freely admit I was a man who let his emotions run the better of him, over and over.

At one point I was so close to drawing sword. I could have ended it there. I would have died of course, but that is an end to duty in its own way. But I did not and I stand as tainted and confused as ever.

Morninglord provide me with wisdom for I am tempted. I tempted to believe that her faith is, if not true, then it is genuine and the humble personae she possess is not the result of a devious mind but a woman cast into this world with a knowledge I can not believe any mortal should possess.

And I confess I am jealous. I jealous of her faith, of which stands as an unshakable bulwark. I am jealous of her conviction, of which I doubt any worldly thing can shake. I am jealous because she seems to endure, her faith has not come easily and in some way I wish I could have but a fraction. But at the same time, I have seen the consequence and I wonder if that is the faith the Gods intend of us.

Even after this perilous moment she saw fit to ask of me a favour and I obliged. She held a chalice, once of the Morninglord but now tainted and twisted to evil - she asked me if I could somehow find a way to revert it to its holy state. For all the doubts and worries I have and will struggle with in the near future, I am glad she gave me this task. This, at least, is pure. And it will give my mind something to do as the turmoil in my mind rages on.

Praise the Dawn, for in a new morning we are given new purpose.


Giscard d'Soleil.



[an excerpt from a page]

[DeSanti]

The New Dawn has come.

Or that is my sincere hope. A stepping stone, perhaps, for some new and glorious. Of rebirth and renewal, of Lathander's true preaching on these lands. It will be a long and troubled road but it will be one, at the very least.

Much has happened since last I wrote and I doubt I will have the time to write everything down, some of it I perhaps should not. I do not like the idea of concealment but that is the truth of much I do no -- some matters must be hidden or not spoken openly, because some matters do not belong to the public yet.

With the formation of the Church of Lathander by the High Priest Vernes and the High Dawnlord Sabre I believe that there is potential here, but even during that auspicious dawn that I am lucky to have witnessed its infancy we were scried upon. This, I believe, is proof that the enemy is insidious and perhaps more dangerous than I thought. Or it might be that I am starting to see shadows under the brightest sun. I confess, all of these secret talks and meetings starts to tear at me somewhat, I might be falling for shadows where there are none.

I joined with the Crusade as was my duty and I witnessed horrors there that would be difficult and perhaps even unwise to pen down. We entered Hell itself and we prevailed. Though I would lie to myself if I'd say this was thanks to my own efforts, I was amply warded and shielded by those who came with. That I survived at all might be a miracle in itself. In this Crusade I witnessed the sisters and I tried to take note of them, I tried to judge that perhaps there was some slip of conscience or slip of zeal that would point towards another thing. I am glad that this was not the case. There was zeal, yes, there was much righteous shouting and litanies unfamiliar to me. But I can fault them that. In this, at least, their purpose seem true.

While training is underway I am starting to feel more confident in my skill and I have started to suit my armour to reflect the confidence. It will be seen by many as vainglorious and over the top, I'd perhaps even agree. But there is a lesson to be learned in symbolism and if I should be as bright as the Dawn then I would want to be armed by it. I have good tutors, I have steadfast allies. In this, I am thankful.

Love. A terrible word. I have been courted by a woman named Helen and she has, if not a bit clumsily and prematurely, her feelings as readily as the wind. I thought perhaps she felt too lightly and given to more baser desires, but I think perhaps now they are genuine and it surprised me that this was worse to me than the former. I suppose in all the chaos and work I've done I have not even gotten the chance to consider it. Am I ready for love again? No. Resounding and resplendent with doubt and frailties of the heart and soul, I found myself tested and failed. I am not ready for this and the poor lady Gardener had to endure just how terrible a thing that is.

She asked me, begged me, to reconsider. Yet I shrugged off her and climbed my horse. I took on my helmet and I told her that her earlier accusation was the truth of it: I am nothing more than this suit of armour. I am nothing more now, and I am terrified that this is all I will be. With the rain pouring down on her she stood and watched me ride off. I have not fled from a battle yet, I have ventured into the very Hells itself and I did not falter.

But with love. Then I fled.



[excerpt from a page, note all images of players are made by this player's own interpretation and may not be accurate]

[DeSanti]

It seems to have been ages since I actually wrote anything of substance. But it is understandable, considering the hectic months following my last proper journal page.

I have became Dawnguard. The Church has grown in members and restructured itself to allow also non-faithful and we've become, if modest, a presence. Much of my time has been spent either riding from Cordor to Guldarand, something of a guilty pleasure as I love the journey. I've fostered good will with the Church of Selûne and the people of Cordor and Guldarand. I have had an overhaul of gear, thanks to initiate Ayra's enchanting, Dawngreeter Gregory's forging and High Dawnlord Sabre's funds. It would be vain to say I am mighty, but I feel that I've progressed to limits I've not yet dreamed of.

And yet.

A thought, uninvited and merciless, has been bothering me more and more. I do not know to accurately describe it because at one moment it is a fleeing, a sense of malaise deep in the soul but indescribable - other times it is a concept or an idea that I could word with perfect precision yet the meaning and logic of it changes by each time.

I am clad in gold and I know it make for quite a sight. Gaudy by some, resplendent by others, humorous for many. And the more as time passes I can't help but feel I am that golden armour - for better of ill. It carves away at my personality and I stand only as the golden-clad Dawnguard, or Butter Knight, as some have taken to call me.

Am I saddened by this? In truth, I don't know. I smile with good humour and it does not feel fake. I laugh and enjoy company of others, and I cherish those moments. I do not feel that I am lying or being untrue. But I can't help but to notice that it makes me aloof or unapproachable in certain ways, I can't help but to think that in the minds of others I am just a man in a golden armour with a smile. People I had though I could form connection and deeper friendship drift away, they seem to hover around me but never close. Never that.

Though I felt it before, it came to me as a punch in the gut while enjoying a drink in Bjorn and Mia's tavern. People I knew, fought with, helped in many ways were gathered and we talked but slowly and gradually they drifted into their own groups and cliques and I stood there by myself and in the company of more than ten people I never felt more alone.

It would be petty and counterproductive to blame this on any other than myself, I know that they do not mean it and I can honestly not say that they've slighted me or done me wrong. But what solution there is to this, I know not. And I feel that I am drifting away.

Perhaps this is why I felt so urgently to leave for Baldur's Gate and visit my siblings. It has been fourteen years apart and every reason stands that I should visit them now that I can manage some time. But perhaps there I will be able to be myself and be something else than the Butter Knight. Or perhaps a different form of solitude awaits.

I know not, but it will be good to see the estate again and my siblings. Mathilde, she would be almost seventeen now. Guy almost nineteen, Lathander's mercy, an adult! It will do me some good to visit them, if only for a time.



[excerpt from a page, note all images of players are made by this player's own interpretation and may not be accurate]

[DeSanti]

I remember once as a child before I left for Temple in Baldur's Gate, my mother would take us to see the ocean. It was the first time I'd ever been so far from the estate and when I saw the Sea of Swords I could not believe my own eyes.

It was so vast and endless, I was practically dizzy from the sight of it.

Looking up at my mother I would point out to the far horizon of the ocean and ask her what was across the sea. She of course did not know, but at that age I was certain my parents knew everything. However she would smile that radiant smile of hers and reply to me "Maybe one day you can go and find out for us?"

Beaming with confidence I made a vow to her then and there that I would and when I'd return she would be so proud of me. With a tender kiss to my forehead and that perfect smile she replied "But I will always be proud of you, mon petit champion."

I pray I can always prove that true, maman.

Until we meet again in Morninglory.

[DeSanti]

[excerpt from a page, note all images of characters are made by this player's own interpretation and may not be accurate]

[DeSanti]

[DeSanti]

[excerpt from two pages. Note that all images of characters are made by this player's own interpretation and may not be accurate]