Memoirs of a Dragonknight - Volume I

[louislxix 3066]

Ser Alric Ruthern

 

Memoirs of a Dragonknight

Volume I: Who am I?

[This information is not yet obtainable, unless proper RP pertaining to it occurs.]

While simple to most. I beg. Who am I?

 

Oliver, Oliver. You explained it all, but you did not tell me this: who am I? I thought I understood what you meant, truly. When you said I would rise from the flames and the lava of the volcanic lands, a new being. The same old Ser, but no, it was all very much so different. The memories all the same, but did those emotions and the very presence of being in those moments carry alongside them? I do not think so. I am Kaaldomun; the Champion of Man. Ser Alric; the Knight Paramount of Hanseti-Ruska, and the late Grand Champion. And a few others, which I care little to write about. Disconcerting enough to bewilder any old being. My memories of Ser Alric, I gather I- he was an embroiled figure, constantly wrapped in the likes of garble. A forsaken figure. Left off, he was finally pulling some strings together in his life; making sense of the curious thing that was life. You cannot expect some human to understand it all, I suppose, especially Ser Alric. Me. That is who I am. Though sometimes, I find Ser Alric to be hanging onto the last threads of my being, and I often lose sight of all. He- I always manage to recapture my old self, but I fear one day, Ser Alric will only be a souvenir to Kaaldomun. Who is also me, he is me. I should fragment memories of old, and new, upon paper -- so I can see, finally.

 

It’s a day to day struggle. Pondering who I might be. And I’ve spent the past couple years, in this sickly god-willed repentance, but it all means nothing in the end. And for what? I lost a bit of myself, sitting across my two squires on that dimly felt night. Ser Alric would have scolded the boy to no end, and leered upon his sententious ways. Yet it was Kaaldomun who acted, so I tell myself, wrapping gauntleted-hands around the neck of the squire. One should never hurt the pride of a dragon. Lying to one is the one way, and one step process to one defending that pride, and we all know Stefan Vyronov is of the boorish, human sort. I saw a weakness in man, and the Vyronov himself, on the day of my trial. Never once did I flinch, even at the verdict of guilty. Like all men before himself though, I could only sense that the Vyronov thought himself to be superior. The ego and mentality of Stefan however failed itself, from where I sat, all I could look upon was the wailing Vyronov boy screeching into the ear of the late Matyas Baruch. His screeching eventually ceased, and was replaced by a smug smile, but it did make me think; does the smug smile come from relief, or is he really just that little **** I know him to be? It’s sad really, considering Matyas died on that day. His last few hours spent affording his ear out to an emotional man, who after such, would have never spoken with him again. Using him. Pitiful. I feel lost many days, but I knew who I was on that day. A dejected, torn, but also composed Ser Alric. 

 

Curious, is what this all is. Those who I previously had warmth, and attachment for, I now only feel nothing for; save for some pity, at my own coldness. While others, I attach myself to them, to not forget who I am. This writing might just be an excuse anyway. Alric has never been a shining star in the vast skies of good. Even before I was cast to the flames, he did something, something evil, and monstrous in a way. His dearest, Vespira d’Arkent, whom he had unhappily wed, saw the end of his blade. She bore a child, but not with Alric. The entire marriage had been drama, after crisis, after incident -- stemming from Alric himself, but the blame could have been seen to be of an equal tugging. It all boiled over, the marriage, them, and Alric a herald to Azdromoth at this point, deemed her death on this basis; Isn’t god dead anyway? I’m prouder to be Kaaldomun over Alric. He possesses a black-heart, redeemable, but black. Foolishly mislead. It’s not to say I’ve done no bad, but we’ll come to that at another time.

 

One thing that does gladden me is escaping the foolish and solitary mind of Ser Alric. See, I carry his memories, I couldn’t forget them if I tried. But those sentiments and passions, they are like reading a book. Aye, I can read the page, but I could never presume those feelings of the writing hand, or the character they have depicted in those lines. So when it came to Joanne, it certainly had me curious -- considering how it all ended. I’d have never gone to her personally, but we did have a child. Alric promised to never seek out the child, until she met him, at the age of sixteen; suppose that’d only be a half lie now. I sought her out. A simple ploy saw me and Mariel, my daughter, be on the beginnings to something great. Letters are exchanged often, and sometimes we do meet, she came to Karosgrad for the first time a few days ago. It’s good that I met her after my turn. I could finally make my own memories, and my own mind up, rather than to pluck another's head. The adoration in her eyes, I’ve not seen it many times before, and I hope I at least serve as a good role model to her. My hopes are held high here. 

 

Kaal, that’s another person to add to the ever growing list. I’d consider him to be the direct man connected to Kaaldomun, but in another form -- he’s only been around for months now, but something quite ***** has already gone about. It does make sense, considering he is the dragonknight, that he made a connection with the Archdraakar himself, or so he thought. The essence of who we all are, the inner-flame, it dimmed and sent the chill of a thousand down his spine. Those steps that were being taken stopped, and a fleeting glimpse of a ruinous relic sighted before his own eyes, but to nobody else, thus far. Twas a greatsword that bore no light, but only impenetrable darkness, an ancient blade later explained to him that could quite well cause the end. This has plagued my mind for weeks now, what could it mean, why was I shown this glimpse, and no other? Perhaps I’m about to find my purpose.

 

I sorely need one.

[Malaise 1569]

“Many came to seek the mighty’s favor. They hailed him from afar at the common grounds and sought to catch a glimpse of him preparing his hunting party. Gifts of food and gold were brought to curry favor. Weapons and jewelry were brought in his honor whenever they could be spared.”
 

“Those that truly impressed him were made a part of his story, a grand tale where each night was a feast, each drink was a toast, and each lover a grand affair.”

 

“Before the fall.”