Category: Journal Entry

The Woodswise fire crackled merrily, sending up sparks to spar with the snowflakes that were beginning to come down from gloomy skies. Spirits were high, the gaggle around the flame unphased by the wandering cloaked figures, drawn in by the revelry. Songs and stories were shared, merry spirits doing more to stave off the cold than the fire itself.

For once, Reason did not feel inclined to share in the fun. The weight of their decisions lay heavy upon them, the burdens of the day stacking like bricks on their back. They were tired, tired that every time an opportunity arose to help some, others around them got hurt. Each little victory came with its own shadow, haunting their footsteps with a vicious smirk.

The fire, at least, provided some temporary comfort to their clouded thoughts. They were reminded of recent travels with Rhyme, huddled over a small flame conjured in the palm of their other half’s hand as they rested before the next step of their journey, humming a song together.

Reason mulled on if their recent political appointment would actually help assuage the continually rising tensions, tensions they were at least in part responsible for. They would have no doubt refused the proposal from the nobles had they not pointed out that it would do well to symbolize Runeheim’s respect for the Dunnick people. With no desire to lead their fellow Duns to inevitable bloodshed, Reason had accepted. For once, it felt the path to offer aid and respite to their people was clear.

Still, Reason was aware how this was just another sign of the inability of nobles to change their ways. They suspected the number of Duns joining the freedom fighters would continue to grow regardless. Fighting may be inevitable, but Reason was of the opinion that it was a short term solution. It hurt a deep part of their fragmented soul that their countrymen had lost so much hope of a free Dunland that they were driven to find Home somewhere else.

Worse was the question if their newfound role would strip them of the title of hero of Dunland in the eyes of their people. How funny, that Reason had just started to feel the lightness of freedom, being no longer chained to a contract or a mage’s guild.

And Rhyme… So many times, Rhyme had gotten hurt. It did not help that in their fervor they would always push through their pain, endlessly seeking the answers that they thought would bring them clarity. And who was Reason to stop that? After all, the answers compelled them too. The deep, secretive part of them that remained O’shea ached to uncover all that was hidden from him. Ultimately, they felt the costs incurred were worth it.

Any cost, except for that of Rhyme.

△ △ △

Reason could still hear the fresh snow crunching beneath their feet as they and Sygurn raced through the streets of the forum after Rhyme. Wisps of smoke rose up from small, charred spots upon the ground, evidence of the demon’s power surging through the hapless fire mage.

Somehow able to catch up, Reason had latched onto Rhyme, helplessly begging them to resist the demon’s hold, ignoring Rhyme’s own pleas for Reason to get away. They struggled to still Rhyme’s hands as a horrified crowd looked on, wishing for the onlookers to be safe, for the demonic entity to quit puppeting Rhyme. And then –

“Deflagrate Ignis et Auctorita…”

△ △ △

“I was but a maid, doin’ me job.”

Reason whipped around, the horrifying memory still flitting in their thoughts, the phantom sensation of flame magic hot on their arms. In their fidgeting, they had shuffled further from the crowd and away from the safety of the fire. A pale figure hovered uncomfortably close, staring straight through the carpenter at the blazing fire.

Reason gauged it carefully, curiously even. It made no move to threaten them.

“I never harmed no soul in me life. Jus’ tryin’ to provide for me kiddos,” the Malefic uttered, its gravely voice hardly audible.

“And then the whole house collapsed on me.”

Reason’s blood ran cold.

The Woodswise folk broke into a howl, and a cluster of ghosts that had gotten too close to the fire rushed past Reason with a hiss. The Malefic’s gaze flicked to meet Reason’s, then vanished.

‘You have some explaining to do’

‘Yup, this one is under the control of a vampire, stronger than the others. Must have been there recently’

‘Somebody come get Java! Help us!’

‘Java, please. Dont.’

STOP!

Java curled into a fetal postion in her bed, she covered her ears with her palms and squeezed her eyes closed. It wasnt supposed to be like this. She was just trying to help them.

Her heart ached, “Why does this keep happening to me” she let out a quiet sob.
***

“You are my favorite, Java. Do you know why?”

She remained silent. Marzana continued to stalk around her, monologueing while tossing and playing with a knife. She knew better than to speak, better than to make eye contact, better than to risk angering the one who kept her leashed.

“.. you are just so obedient.”

Marzana stood infront of Java, the cold tip of the blade pressed under her chin encouraging her to look up from the ground.

“Now,” Marzana flipped the knife around and offered Java the handle, “show me just how obedient you are.”

***

The blood trickled from her hand into the bowl. The amount no more than the usual cuts she’d make for the Grand Tree or to the land when the folkwise demanded it.

She wrapped her hand and they escorted her from the room into a private study. It was for the best she didn’t see the Lady consume her blood.

Sygrun and her had talked in depth the importance of this research against Alu. The cost of a little bit of blood meant nothing when the reward was to protect her people. Her home.

***

“Java-” Reason clutched their stomach and began to throw up foul rot. She watched for a moment before tense heat washed over her again. Another command from the Lady.

Now, where did Sygrun go?

She giggled and danced around the chaos. Upon seeing her fellow guild mate her hands moved swiftly on their own. A new trick she had just picked up to combat the Vulgaris. ‘Arcane Burn’

The betrayal in her eyes pierced Java in the chest. Wait, she was hurting them. Clawing for her discipline she tried to stop herself. Her blood boiled, her body again moving on command.

Forced to be obedient.

***

3 days had gone by and she couldn’t get out of bed. She couldn’t face them, she could only hope they’d forget.

“I’m so tired.”

Hi Journal, sorry if my handwriting is bad. As you know I only learned to read after…The Incident… Leaving home was one of the hardest desicons, sorry! Decisions, I’ve ever made. I went as far from home as I could. Luckily I stumbled across Master Porter who offered me a job and took me even farther from home. Working for her Ladie, oops! Working for her Ladyship has been a dream come true! She’s the best boss and a noble who ensures us beneath her have what we need. I can only hope I don’t dissapoint her.
When Mr. Woodsmen was hired on, I worry my world will come tumbling down. His hometown is mine. Does he know what happend to my last boss? Does he know my parents!? Dear journal, I pray my little bit of happiness remains safe. I’ve made so many new friends, what will they think if they know what i’ve done? What I could do and how I’ve learnd-learned.
Wish me luck journal… The next forum is just around the corner. I will serve my lady well. I will serve my house well for as long as they will have me.

Man, I’ve had it with bears. Don’t get me wrong, they’re cool to look at and all, but why do they gotta break everything? doors, spears, even bows—nothing’s safe from those big furry battering rams. It’s like they wake up every day thinking, “What can I tear apart today?” I know they’re just doing their bear thing, but it’s hard not to get pissed when all they leave behind is a mess for someone else to clean up.

And don’t even get me started on people in charge. How do some of these idiots even get the job? Like, you’d think running something—anything—would require basic common sense, but nope. They’re out here making the dumbest decisions, acting like they’ve never lived a real day in their lives. It’s frustrating watching people screw up stuff that shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.

At least the forest is still out there. When it gets too much, I can just head out, breathe in the fresh air, and walk around for a bit. No trash, no clueless nobles—just trees and quiet. It’s the one place where everything feels normal, and honestly, that’s all I need sometimes.

Felix gripped the cold, weathered strap of his shield and surveyed the frosty city of Runeheim. The convoy had arrived late the previous night, tired and disheveled, and now the work began. The northern cold clung to their bones like an unseen weight. He wiped his brow, though the chill made it feel useless.

“Careful with that crate, lad!” he called to a younger porter struggling with a heavy chest of supplies, oils for the Knight’s blades jostled menacingly in the crate. Directing another porter to help him handle it, Felix waved them off.

Gilbert, the Quartermaster, was pacing nearby, muttering under his breath, occasionally pausing to jot down lines in his ledger or whisper fragments of his latest poem. He’d been inspired to write after Forum, and Felix was never any help with them.

“Yet ‘neath the snow,… a promise glimmers bright,” Gilbert recited to himself, tapping his quill against his lips.

Felix flashed Gilbert a weary smile, but didn’t say anything. The city walls were tall and suspiciously quiet, with the locals watching from their doorways, eyes narrowed. The guards had barely spoken as they passed through the gates.

As they unloaded their goods—clothes, tools, and crates of travel rations—the cold gnawed at their fingers. Yet, Felix kept the crew moving. He barked orders, kept the crates organized, and Gilbert ensured no goods were left behind or mishandled. Felix’s boots crunched in the snow as he crossed the courtyard to the warehouse, moving steadily despite the chill.

Pausing to look out towards where the sun still hung low in the sky, and failing to feel any warmth from it, he thought of Damian and Silvester. It would have been good to have more of the lads here, but they were both engaged moving goods a bit more important than tomorrow’s lunch.

Gilbert’s inventory ended, and the Quartermaster approached him. “Felix, do you think we’ll be accepted here?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

“Don’t worry about it,” Felix muttered. “We’ll make ourselves useful. That’s how things get done.”

Upon the frozen fields where frost doth bite,
The barren earth seems locked in winter’s chain.
Yet ‘neath the snow, a promise glimmers bright,
And dreams of spring within the heart remain.

For through the night’s cold veil of dread and blight,
The hunter wields his artful black powder’s might.
Its thunder splits the heavens, fierce and raw,
And bends the beast beneath its mortal law.

But lo, though courage crowns the valiant fight,
The toll of labor finds a bitter bane.
For kings and lords, in greed, do claim their right,
And tax the hand that wrought their gilded gain.

Thus winter yields, yet man remains oppressed—
The fields may bloom, but burdens steal his rest.

Istra’s balls, Njordr was cold.

Minona wondered how there were any forests left standing, if it took this much firewood to keep from freezing. Perhaps the locals really did have ice instead of blood in their veins. That would certainly explain their suicidal willingness to wage war throughout the winter – she was not looking forward to having to deal with that come next winter when she had troops to worry about.

Of course, that was assuming that Lady Valerian would still want to be here come next winter. Runeheim was a mess, its leadership was in shambles, and the whole region was crawling with heretics and malefic. It was hardly a promising place to bring the light of the Throne.

But Hrafnakastali… something about the battered old fort was compelling. Fascinating, even. Rennet may be an asshole, but he was still Rogalian and he knew his fortifications. The stairs were slightly irregular and curved in the middle from decades of soldiers’ boots and yet as she climbed she felt she knew them all already.

Minona ran a hand along the parapet, fingers tracing along the broken edge of a stone, remembering how it felt to get pulled inside of it – a rough-carved hand holding hers, the bone beads of that bracelet pressing into her wrist as the fingers slipped away. The sensation kept intruding at inopportune times, oddly intimate.

But now, as before, she shook off the phantom grasp and focused on her task. She looked down on the courtyard, mentally marking out places for an archery range and a training field. They would definitely fit, and with a little room to spare.

There might even be enough room for a bear-sized stable, if Jacqueline could get Mr. Mittens to behave.

Svart’s Journal – Game 14 – Time for Action

It has come to the time to take action.

The Witch which had been placed here by Lodi, to watch and hinder Svart. They are served by bandits that lay in the woods and the Witch and its bandit minions have moved against Svart by attacking not just him, but his friends, and the city of Runeheim that I live in. Knut’s friend Sven was corrupted and House Fenris used to attack Runheim to get at Svart. Knut’s fate is still unknown. If only Svart had acted directly earlier, they all could have been saved.

There is now momentum and time to take it. Svart’s general has retaken Runeheim. He shall have his spymaster seek out the bandits and their witch master, so they can be located and destroyed. They could be anywhere, and certainly have some agents in the city. Working with the mages, no doubt. He and his assassin will cut them down for what they have done to Svart and the Njords.

We need to be human smart, not orc smart, just as we were when the Njords took this land from the Jötunn brood.

Then Dunns are seeking help from Svart for their freedom just as the Njords do. Their leader came and talked to Svart. Svart could see that he recognised Scart for who is really is and was begging for his help for his people. Svart has always been a friend to the Dunns, and they to him. There are people who will work against them because of this.

The Witch still corrupts the wilderness where Svart and the land are one. It is time to come out from directing from the shadows and act directly. Hunt those that tormented Svart as a child. Svart is a man now. They can’t hurt Svart as they hurt me when I was a child. Svart won’t allow it. Svart is strong now. Svart can keep them from hurting him any more. Time to hunt and torment them now. Time to make them afraid.

So says, Svart, True King of the Njords, Protector of the Dunns.

“Java YOU’RE my weakness”

‘Can I believe that?

Marzana really said that.

Didn’t she also say she’d get Runeheim back for me? Do I even dare believe that?’

Java leans back and pulls her pen from the journal page along with her overbearing thoughts. Only to shake her head, “put it on paper Java, c’mon, work it out”

‘She’s for sure taunting me! But if she’s serious though, could it be that easy going back? I think… No, She’s mocking me again, this is her game. Maybe if..’ Her pen slips through the page as she scribbles with a groan of frustration.

‘her men are all gone now.. she might mean it this time. Its just her now…’

The reality of loneliness pains her heart as she remembers Phil. Alone. It wasn’t even that long ago that they all had passed. What a cruel feeling.

‘who would I be without Dr. Hiemir or Tora. Am I really all she has left? The years we shared, I wasn’t perfect either. Runeheim gave me a second chance and she hasn’t even hurt me the last times we’ve been together again,’

Another pause, this time reflecting on Father Lapis and the twisted claims that choosing to accept the help with magic was a sin for the soul, they were sick and dying. He’s wrong for that.

‘Marzana made me stronger. She always liked my magic, she even said she missed me. Maybe its my turn to make her better, just like the town did for me. She’s different and changed. Even the fae agreed. She’s weak now, it was our dea-’ the pen drops from her hand.

“Wait! Wait wait wait” panic rises as she stops her journaling, tearing off the pin from her tunic and staring into it, “I meant physically. She’s physically weak around me, right? That was the deal! Right? I know you two can hear me. You know what i meant!”

Laying her head down on the table she knows exactly what they meant with that deal now.

‘Maybe I can fix all this. Maybe I can fix her’