saromon50

His story continues (In other news I have no idea why the formatting is so screwed up...)

[[A new entry has been posted! (if anyone has a suggestion about how best to format this so it isn't just one massive wall of text feel free to share your wisdom)]]

[[This is a journal from the perspective of my character Tormis, everything in it is something that has actually happened to him while in character. Obviously this isn't everything that has happened to Tormis, but it is what I feel is the most significant. Some of it I recorded on my old YouTube series My Adventures in Lord of the Craft (which I may start up again), some of it not so much. I just think it is a pretty cool story that Tormis is undergoing and thought I should share it!]] *An old leather bound journal may be found lying on the bed of Tormis within the Vigil Tree. The contents are carefully written in silver ink. You notice sections of the journal are marked out, while those sections just after seem to have been written by a much shakier hand than those before.* 10th of the Amber Cold 1562 The following is an account of my life, the life of Tormis, in this new land of Vailor. I shall do my best to record what this new life brings; but, before I begin I must admit that I believe I do this for more selfish reasons than even I can fathom. When I first set out to detail my life in this little book, I told myself it was so that I do not forget the good times this new life will surely bring. But now, as I write, I fear that the old me is reemerging. Already I can feel the need bubbling up in the pit of my stomach like so many reaching, grasping hands… Perhaps this journal will do something to save what remains of my sanity. Perhaps not. Now, I suppose I should begin - well, where my story began. My name is Tormis. I was born in Asulon not long after the survivors of Aegis escaped to, and subsequently from, the Verge. Yet I was so young that I do not remember much of my life at this time, but what I do remember was an Orc. No, this isn’t the orc that killed my parents or raided my village. No, this is the Orc that took me in; that took care of me for my young life. Korbec was his name. Korbec… Even writing this name now sends a chill down my spine… Had I known what he was then… what he worshiped… And yet - the name also seems to somewhat silence this writhing need, this tortuous hunger within the pit of my being… Had I known then, I never would have allowed him to infect me so. I write this journal for myself… And yet I can’t help but think that my story may help some other unfortunate soul who finds himself as lost as I… And so I shall explain just who Korbec was - and what he did to me. Korbec was an Orc born in Aegis only a few years before the first sightings of - of His attack. Korbec was different than other Orcs in one rather apparent way - he was very learned. Korbec didn’t care to fight. Yet do not confuse this with some kind of good natured orc who dislikes violence. That is not what he was. Korbec didn’t care to fight, he didn’t care for honor, he didn’t care for anything but furthering his own ambition, increasing his own knowledge and his own power. To be more specific, he didn’t care to fight in order to obtain honor. He would fight, and fight hard if it meant attaining his goal. It was then that he joined a murderous guild under the command of the one they called Wrath. There may still be some that remember Wrath’s Castle and the siege that befell it when it became known that those of the castle were working quite closely with the Undead. It is my belief that Korbec wished to join the ranks of the Undead and gain the knowledge and power that was promised by - by Him. It’s strange actually… Thinking back to the stories Korbec would tell me, I almost feel proud of his accomplishments… He even claimed to have slain one of the Ascended during the battle! Ha! Once Wrath’s Castle had fallen Korbec retreated back to his home of Krugmar - but the Orcish city was too large, too crowded for him to worship the Fallen One unnoticed. And so he left the city, becoming something of a hermit. He could likely be seen on the fringes of many skirmishes with the Undead and their minions… But he didn’t tell me much of this time in his life; however, he did excitedly tell me of one day in which he claimed to actually find some sort of portal which allowed him to cross into the home of the Undead… I don’t know if I believe this to be true, for he was rather senile already when he wished to share this tale with me. That is who Korbec was. No, no that is not who he was - but that is as much as I am able to say… For he was much more than that. As to what it was that he did to me… I am afraid if I write it down the hunger will resurface. If I write it down the hunger will have a foothold again. Perhaps I shall tell this story later, when I am stronger. But not now. Not now. Korbec died just before we had to flee our home once more. Just before finding the new land of Anthos. Just before finding safety once more, he left me. After Korbec died I was lost. More lost than I have ever been, or likely ever will be again for the entirety of my long elven life. What he did to me… What he showed me… That is something I must never go back to. But if I just go back I will find the way again. I will find the path again. Why shouldn’t I go back to his teachings…? If I go back I will lose myself again… When I first lost myself it was the Delvers that brought me back from the edge. It was their teachings and kind friendship that saved me. While I studied with them I found a new meaning to life, I found a new path: one of knowledge and learning for the sake of learning. During this time I met one of my dearest friends and mentor, Goliath Orman. I never actually found out if he was associated with the Delvers directly, but he was a powerful summoner - able to bring a large bear forth from the void to fight for him! It was incredible! I learned much from him and should like to say that he learned much from me as well, yet I doubt that is true; he truly was brilliant. Yet for all his brilliance, he was not an Elf, and old age finally began to take hold of him. It lasted longer than it really should have… poor soul… But then he was gone. Another friend and mentor gone forever… However, at his deathbed something - something strange happened. His son, or perhaps it was his grandson? Was there with him, and he claimed that Goliath wished to grant me with one last gift as an old friend. Obviously I accepted, but it was at this point that everything… everything gets a bit fuzzy. Some sort of spell was cast, what kind I do not know, all I do know is that with it went everything else. The world went dark - all there was was darkness. And I dreamed. Oh how I dreamed! It was as if ages passed before my eyes! I saw kingdoms rise and fall, I saw The Creator and I saw the beginning, I saw the past, present, and future. And I saw the end. But the end was - it was just darkness. Nothing else… Just emptiness. No. No, I remember now. It was not emptiness. There was darkness, yes. But there was something else. There was something in the darkness… I remember now. I have seen the end and the end has seen me. The great Golden Eye of… It saw me at the end of time. Just emptiness. Nothing else. It was then that I awoke in what I believed to be the cloud temple of Aegis. Yet I knew this could not be true, for I knew it to be destroyed. Sitting on the cold stone floor I began to regain my thoughts and my composure. Slowly standing and walking through the archways I was quickly greeted by a very kind elf. He informed me that this land was Vailor and the year was 1562. 1562. Almost 100 years I had slept. For almost 100 years I had dreamt of nothing but the - the emptiness. He offered me a place in something called the Vigil. With no place in this new and strange world and nowhere to go, I accepted his offer. It is from my small room in “the Tree” that I write this account of my life. Perhaps these Vigil will help me to save what remains of my sanity. Perhaps not. And so it is that my story shall unfold. I know not who I pray to, but I pray that the path that I follow will be the correct one. I pray it will be what I am meant for. 17th of the Amber Cold, 1562 It has only been a few elven days since my joining of the Vigil and already I have begun to become familiar with the city of - I... must admit that I have failed to learn the name of the very city in which I reside... I should likely do this sooner rather than later! Lin'sulan. I am living in the High Elven city of Lin'sulan! I managed to find a map just after my realizing of my own ignorance, and along with the name of the city, I see the 'Eternal Library' resides within these walls. I should like to see what it holds soon. But now: the main reason that I chose today to write a new entry was not that I didn't know the city name or am interested in a library. Late yesterday I was witness to the initiation ceremony for a new Vigil recruit. I was mostly confused through the ceremony as I was not required to undergo anything so... intense as that. Observing alongside myself was another Vigil member, Parion, was his name. I feel slightly ashamed to admit this, but I ignored most of the ceremony, instead talking with Parion throughout the Ceremony. We were careful to be quiet as to not disrupt the initiation, but I still feel a tinge of shame for not properly observing. No matter, the point is that when the initiation was finished, we continued to talk long into the night discussing the political strife and social destruction that has been occurring as of late. I admit most of the discussion was over my head, but the topic soon turned to myself and so I told him this very tale. I am happy to say that he was quite receptive of it! Perhaps not quite for the right reasons... For he believed that the dream which I experienced to be fuel, to be a catalyst for the social, or even religious, change that must take place among the mali'aheral. For he also believed that-that He, the End - is not whom I know it to be, but is instead somehow representative of the sin and wretchedness that we ourselves have wrought. I admit that I very much enjoyed this idea, but still I had to explain to Parion exactly what I meant. I must say I didn't expect to learn that He had not merely been imprisoned as He was in Aegis, but that He had actually been destroyed... I still fear to even write His name, but this news has brought some semblance of light and of joy to my heart. As I write, I can't help but feel another part of me which knows that He still lives. Another part of me that somehow knows that I must follow Him to the end....No! Parion now wishes to use this, to use my dream to start some sort of change; some sort of movement for social change. I can't exactly say I am comfortable spreading messages of... of Him... to bring about this movement. But if Parion thinks it is what we should do, I will follow him! Perhaps my new friend will help me to save what remains of my sanity. Perhaps not. 19th of the Amber Cold, 1562 It has been many days since He has darkened my thoughts; this new life among my fellow mali'aheral may yet prove to be a good one. Not even one elven day has passed since that odd initiation ceremony and already the Vigils have once again managed to add some excitement to this new life! I had only just left the tree and my cozy little room when I heard someone cry out "Vigils to the Eternal Library!", or something of that nature. So I went. I knew not what I should find, but it was certainly better than patrolling the streets of Lin'sulan (especially considering my injury prevents me from doing any actual "protecting" should I need to). When I arrived at the library there was a company of vigils in the upper classroom along with two elven children, sisters apparently. I managed to find Parion in the rabble and discovered that these children where causing "problems," though Parion didn't seem to agree with what was happening. So it was that they were going to undergo "reeducation" at the hands of Riemus (I do hope I am spelling that right, he seems very wise and I don't wish to offend). I don't think I will go into detail about the reeducation here as I'm still going over what he said in my head; however, the youngest sister didn't seem to agree and argued for quite some time until eventually everyone else was asked to leave the room but her. I remained in the back of the room and continued to watch (Riemus didn't seem to care, or perhaps he just didn't notice). What I first witnessed nearly made me think that this mali'aheral was my old mentor Goliath in disguise! He conjured snakes from his sleeves! They were lovely creatures, rather frightening, as that was their purpose, but still quite lovely. In the end the snakes seemed to do their job in scarring the young mali as she quickly agreed to never speak... Well to never speak whatever it was that she had in the first place. Soon after I followed Riemus out of the library. I don't completely know why I did this... Perhaps it was the memory of Goliath that urged me on? No matter, the point is that I followed him and asked that I be able to work for him, as a scribe perhaps. I feel as if there was hesitation in him at first, but he then accepted my services! I shall begin work under him tomorrow! I still hope to work with Parion on this social work of ours, but considering the focus of the message I should like to have some sort of anchor before undergoing that project. Perhaps this work will help to save what remains of my sanity. Perhaps not.