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Traveling has led me to many cities, few of which have left an impression on me. Vikela however was different, at the gates I was greeted by a charming man with many titles though I would begin to just call him Walter. He spoke to me about his work in alchemy and his running list of talents. We spoke of art and its many forms, about the practice of alchemy and a few of the potions he brewed. I will admit I lack the knowledge to fully appreciate such a creation but they were still impressive to me. Later in the day we had to aid a blind cowboy in the town. We all made our way to the city’s tavern where I had bought the cowboy a drink as an apology for my embarrassing rudeness towards him. Believe it or not but Walter even worked as a bartender, A master of many skills it seemed. We spoke of life and its future, of his past, and joked about his numerous titles and jobs. He even was kind enough to be my second client. I told him I never forget a face and by the moon did I mean it. I hope he appreciates my work as much as I appreciated his time. Perhaps in the future I will settle down in Vikela, have that wine on my balcony during a star-filled night like I told him I wished to. I guess we'll just have to see what the fates have in store for me.

The first time I stepped foot in Númendil, an Olog nearly ran into me. All I could do was look up at his hulking size frozen in fear, in hindsight that was rather rude of me. Logically I was safe in such a public place right? Yet I shook like a wet kitten. Bless his patience, The first words out of my mouth were an exclamation of his size like I was some rude child. After trying to calm my nerves we exchanged names, Raug was his. He shook my hand rather softly considering his hand dwarfed mine in size, he could have easily broken every bone in my poor appendage if he so pleased. We surprisingly began to chat, talk of our interests and ventures. We even joked a bit. I learned Raug was a fellow artist who made statues, and we chatted about art surprisingly well. To think I was shaking in fear when we first locked eyes… He was polite, well spoken, and even humorous! I was happy to consider him a friend. When we went to part I asked if I could use his likeness for a portrait. The look of delight on his face was priceless, though his smile was still a bit intimidating. Painting people that don’t look like me has been so eye opening and inspiring. I hope to make more art of people of all walks of life just as I did with Raug. And I hope Raug enjoys his portrait as much as he enjoyed the idea of one.

A Squire’s Journal 28th of Sun's Smile: Tonight we camped in the woods around Eulersburg. I never imagined myself saying this but I miss the smell of mud. I fondly remember running through the swamps with my brothers and sisters near home and coming back caked in mud from head to toe. I miss the sweet wrath of our mother when she made us change out of our muddy clothes before dinner. I miss the bustle and clamor of family gathering around the dinner table. I know I fight so that the mud back home will still be our own and so all those faces I love can still sit and eat, but those memories grow foggy and the smell of mud mixes far too easily with the blood all around this camp. For being on the path to righteous victory this war certainly seems wicked. Wrath is not seen these days cleaning mud from happy children, but in smiting down fellow sons of Horen. Right before I fell asleep last night I thought I could hear the clamor of the dinner table, but then I realized it was the clashing of swords. Another bundle of Adrian warriors found their way in our midst. I can’t believe I miss the smell of mud. 29th of Harren's Folley: Last night I rode with my knight back to Valdev. I never thought I would miss the sound of babies crying. From the barracks when I first heard a man wounded in battle, I just assumed it was a crying baby. The days before I ever had heard a man wail in pain were better. The only thing worse than the wails of these men are the looks on the faces of their children when we ride through the gates and they don’t see their fathers among our numbers. More Adrians die each day than covenant folk, but that doesn’t make the memories of these children's faces worth it. The babies in town seem to cry less as of late. Even they realize that something is not right in the world. I honestly doubt I will live to hear children of my own crying and do I even deserve to? I cannot help but think of the Adrian children whose fathers I have made wail in pain, and in turn given them the same sad soulful stare as their own tattered battalions return to Winburgh. Both of our ranks have lost numbers, but each of these numbers had fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, children and spouses. I hope I never hear the scream of a wounded man again, that sound is not meant for anyone on this earth to hear.

۩ An excerpt from Journal af Brasca, written by George during his retreat to find both himself, and God 13th of Sun’s Smile, 1941 In the stillness of contemplation, I often find myself diving deep into the recesses of my own soul. It's a journey that requires courage, for there are aspects of my being that I prefer to keep hidden, even from myself. Yet, it is in these moments of unfiltered self-reflection that I unearth the truths about who I am, both the noble and the flawed. One of these shadows that occasionally darkens my heart is the specter of jealousy. Like an insidious whisper, it occasionally lingers in the corners of my thoughts. It's a human emotion, I remind myself, one that can afflict even the most virtuous of souls. During moments of weakness, it has, on occasion, stirred feelings of inadequacy and resentment towards those who have achieved what I have not. Admitting to this vulnerability is like stepping into a room filled with uncomfortable truths. I must confront my own shortcomings, acknowledge that I too am susceptible to such base emotions. It's a humbling experience, to say the least, but it's a necessary one if I am to grow as a person. And then there's the matter of my own corruptibility. The allure of power, wealth, and influence has a seductive charm that can lead one astray. I've witnessed how even the most noble of intentions can be tainted by the corrupting influence of ambition. It's a sobering realization, for it reminds me that I, too, am not immune to the temptations that the world can offer. But here, in the crucible of self-reflection, I also find a glimmer of hope. It is not the mere recognition of these flaws that defines me but my response to them. I am flawed, yes, but I am also imbued with the capacity to rise above my weaknesses. With each stumble, I do not simply wallow in self-pity; I rise, dust myself off, and set forth on a path of redemption. I understand that the journey toward righteousness is fraught with challenges, moments of doubt, and self-recrimination. But it is a path I am determined to tread, for it is in the crucible of my own imperfections that I forge the steel of my character. In the end, it is not the absence of flaws that makes one noble; it is the strength of character to confront them, to strive for self-improvement, and to use one's own vulnerabilities as stepping stones toward greater wisdom and compassion. So, I embrace my flaws as part of the intricate tapestry of my existence. I am George, a soul in constant evolution, ready to confront my own imperfections, to learn from them, and to emerge from the crucible of self-reflection stronger and more resolute. In this journey of self-discovery, I find solace in the belief that, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, I can transcend my flaws and strive toward the light of a better self. And with each step, I draw closer to the person I aspire to be… [Am really enjoying this reflection period of George as he comes into adulthood] [This info would be private unless George shared with you his journal, or you were a horrible person and broke into his house!]

This is a combination of the previous 4 novels. However, unlike the individual novels, which individually I consider non-canon, I wish/intend for this complete/combined edition to be considered 100% canon. This is a prequel to Volume V. A Volume IV+V (4.5) may come at a future point. ============================================================================================================= It’s been a long time, friends. You may be asking how I am writing to you when I am “dead?” Well the answer is shocking. The truth is I never died. The gold block and the suicide note? Fabricated to keep your eyes away from my abduction. I didn’t find out how they made you think I was dead until recently when their whole plan went up in flames. The Skanarri are far more conniving than it would seem at first glance. How does this tie into me vanishing with a gold block in my place one night? Well to answer that question, we need to go back to before Balon was king, or before he even married Hilda. It all started shortly after it was announced that they were getting married. I was walking back home from the animal pen. I was getting wool in order to make some banners for my clan, as well as the ingredients for cakes for the celebration. I was happy for one thing as people had been shipping me and Hilda for a while, much to my annoyance. As I walked a couple of bounty hunters jumped me. I swiftly pulled out the Herald of Justice in order to defend myself but before I could do anything else a third one came up behind me and knocked me out. They dragged my unconscious body away while another group of roughly four or five stood by with a large gold block, a fake suicide note, and a fake last will. Those were the very same ones you all would find the next day. They tied me up and loaded me into a caravan headed for the center of Skanarri territory. Two days later I was offloaded from the caravan and carried into a fortress of some kind. I knew this wasn’t good and I began to struggle to no avail. One of the bounty hunters looked at me trying to wriggle free then turned and asked one of the others if they should have used chains instead. Not like it would matter though. I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in two days and so I wouldn’t be going anywhere. As they handed me off to a guard they were motioned to follow him in. I noticed banners on the wall and recognised them as those of the Skanarri. As I was placed down I saw who had ordered my abduction. I recognised him immediately. It was none other than the High Chieftain of the Skanarri himself, Clygar Stonehead. He motioned one of the guards. “Make sure they are paid.” He turned back to me. “Long have I waited for my grandchild to come home.” I looked up, glaring at him. “I think you got the wrong guy.” Clygar smirked. “Your father changed his surname to Taalios, did he not?” Fear shot through my body like lightning through copper. “You knew?” I gawked. “Yes… My son went through a great deal to avoid detection, but he failed to keep his facade up forever. As a result he is gone leaving only you, my bastard grandson to rise up and oppose me. A loose end. One that needs to be rectified.” I continued to struggle with the bonds. Clygar smirked. “You're quite stubborn, aren't you? Just like your father, and me before him. Tell you what… you’ve learned a lot since you cowered in battle and let a comrade lose an arm and a leg.” He motioned his arm towards a painting of the battle of Vjardengrad. There I was in the bottom left trying to avoid getting hacked to pieces, fear in my eyes. Clygar continued with a challenge. “Show me what you have learned since then. Beat me and I will let you go free. I considered the offer but he said the most horrifying thing next. “But if I beat you, however…” He paused, “I made a deal with a necromancer. My end was that I gave him the bodies of my dead in exchange for immortality.” My pupils dilated like the flesh around a wound. “You mean…?” He laughed “Yes, you are of the dark, yet you also have the light in you. The Long Dark and the All-Father both see you as vital to their overarching plans. One who will irreversibly damage the other. An asset that can change the tide… the pinnacle of light and dark.” He let his words register inside me. But unbeknownst to Clygar, spending two days in the back of a carriage tied up let my fingernails grow much longer than usual. As he was talking I used my sharper than usual fingernails to cut the ropes binding me. Before the guard next to me knew what was happening I had taken a sword and had stabbed them in the chest. The Skanarri weren't exactly the most heavily armored of folk. Looking at my grandfather and remembering my trial by fire in Norland and the demon in my head, I threw the sword at him, desperately hoping it would impale him. He ducked and it grazed the middle of the top of his head. But as he ducked he didn’t realize I was charging right for him and I tackled the High Chieftain to the ground. He was about to pull out his sword but I stepped on his hand preventing him from doing so. As he yelped in pain he looked up while I punched him repeatedly, the ferocity never seen coming out of me. Whether it was the All-Father or the Long Dark remained to be seen. I snapped out of my violent trance when he was a blow away from ”death.” I looked down with rage in my eyes, but I couldn’t find it in my heart to kill him. He may have killed a lot of people but he was defenseless, and my grandfather no less. That one split second of hesitation was all it took for a guard to shove me off of the High Chieftain, saving his life. Before I knew it I was being beaten into unconsciousness by guards, and the last thing I saw before blacking out was Clygar struggling to get up. At this point in my adventures it is important to mention that Clygar Stonehead may have been the High Chieftain, but his grasp on Skanarri territory was unstable, with smaller warlords regularly causing problems. There was only one tribe who could really do anything. The tribe of my mother; Talios. The lack of the second “A” is important. My mother did not want to be a part of the warring factions, just like my father. They met, fell in love, and had me plus my younger sister, Lhaura. When my parents were killed we split up to keep Clygar’s cronies away from each other. I hadn’t seen her since then until this part of my tale. Turns out she knew I was in Norland ever since the battle of Vjardengrad, when one of my grandfather’s troops made it back and confirmed rumors that I was alive. I had previously explored much of the northern half of Solstheim, including a shortcut through Skanarri territory. That’s all it took for those rumors to start, and they had been planning my potential abduction ever since then. It’s a lot to unpack, but it is important for understanding what happened while I was unconscious. Then again me being alive is a shocker in of itself. While I was knocked out, Cylgar sent a spy to pose as a childhood friend of mine to keep people away from the truth. I would later discover that this spy brought a baby back to Norland that he found in the woods. He was killed for doing so by an undead assassin sent by the necromancer. The Necromancer had somehow gotten ahold of my old armor set and put the armor on a corpse to pose as a zombified version of me. In addition, Clygar put my unconscious body in a caravan bound for an even deeper part of Skanarri territory. Before he did that though, he had my left arm cut off. The whole arm. Up to the shoulder. He didn’t want me escaping on my way to his necromancer friend. It turns out it wouldn’t matter as a team from the Talios tribe busted me out led by, you guessed it, my sister. She carried me over her shoulder all the way back to the Talios fortress, all while I was still unconscious. I woke up unable to feel my left arm. I looked to where it was, only to find it was gone as like I said, it was removed to make it harder for me to escape. There were some runes protruding from the stump left behind. A few more than would usually be seen on the point a prosthetic would be attached to. The slightly higher number of runes is key to a function my new arm had. The Talios folk had somehow managed to get a Slayersteel blade built in that could be deployed with a flick of my prosthetic wrist. One of the doctors noticed I had woken up and she told me to stay down. She dumped some kind of potion in my mouth that knocked me out again so they could more easily attach the prosthetic. I woke up several hours later. The operation had been completed flawlessly. I got up and tripped almost immediately. My new arm was plated in Carbidium, and as such it was heavier than my flesh and blood arm. As I fell, I accidentally deployed the blade, so it got stuck in the floor. Lhaura, who had been in the room the whole time snickered as I stood up and got my bearings. I turned and glared but recognized her almost immediately. She pointed to her wrist and made a flicking motion. I did so and watched in awe as it retracted into a hidden compartment. I looked around and saw the people of the Talios tribe. Unbeknownst to me at the time, within a few years I would be in command of all of the people in the room. We will now skip forward by roughly five years. Clygar raided Aaun twice. Both times he succeeded in his plans. The saboteur he sent is dead. Killed by the necromancer after he unintentionally gave Norland a decisive victory. As to whether they know of their victory remains to be seen. We sent our own messenger in response to Clygar doing so. Like the one my grandfather sent however, he was killed before he could complete his mission. Unlike my grandfather, we didn't order his death. Norland’s community of intelligent rats have taken over since where he left off since then. They are keeping the secret of my survival. I fear if I return the revelation that I am of both the light and the dark may get me killed, as well as the baby Lhaura hid there; Rhea Kvytravn Taalios… My niece. They are going to find out eventually, one way or the other. I need to clear up a lot but this is it for now. Should Norland want to ally themselves with the Talios tribe then we will forever be in your debt. I've skipped over a lot but that is the gist of it. Just send me a bird. We are desperate. -Oldoln Taalios, Cheiftain of the Talios Skanarri Tribe

~Lapê's Travelling logs~ [A restranscription] On recent Norland events I have been a Norland inhabitant for several years now. I come from a secluded place, I escaped it to finally feel free and never settle again. But when I set a foot on this land, I knew I wanted to put my bags there and build my little home. It was a surprise to me and I have to shut down the little voices in my head telling me it was a bad idea, that it would be the same all over again. But it was not, and I got a home and a shop. I made friends, I even joined a clan! I didn’t think I had the confidence in me to ever join a clan. But I did, and I haven’t met that much interesting people in years. I felt happy and secured. Until the recent events. After the crowning of the king Balon, a conflict witht the dwarves started to form. A clash between such strong nations evidently couldn’t be calmed by mere words and we started getting attacked. I thank whoever rules this earth for making me absent each time it happened but so much of my friends had to endure them: a raid inside our own walls, and a raid during a feast in Talan’or. It left everyone scarred and 2 of our citizens have died. From where I come there were rarely conflicts, and they settled on duels that happened away from looks. The one who could come home had won. Secluded as we were, I never had access to the outside world’s news. I am not familiar with wars, and always avoided situations that could result in one. This situation makes me scared. I am afraid of losing my friends, my belongings, or even my life to a battle that isn’t mine, and that shouldn’t have even started in my opinion. I don’t want to have to live under restraints because someone doesn’t like someone else. This is making me wonder, when I walk the roads and look at the sky, why did I settle? Was becoming a citizen a good idea? Should had I listen to the voice in my head? I know that now, defending the country is my duty, but will it be worth it? There is so much to see in this world… Those are the fears I have today. I am not coming to a particular conclusion but expressing those things in my head my help getting them in order.

~Lapê Salavi's travel logs~ [a retranscription] DAY 4 Today, I was not aware, was feast day! We are welcomed by urguan to their grand feast. I headed towards the west and lost no time visiting for once, being right on time for the festivities. There were more people than I had seen in a while. Impressing. I even passed across a cleric I had met before. They were from the city, I realized, and handing out drinks and foog. I got 2 bottles and not wanting to drink at the moment, I decided to put my “Copper Boot Cocktail” and “dwarven Potatoe vodka” in my cellar I created back home. The ambiance was cheerful, but I was never fond of crowds, and it was getting exhausting. I stepped out the room and found a hot water pond upstairs. What a true gift of nature. The first thing I noted was that the city was remarkably well built, in hollowed out mountains. The inhabitants seemed keen on alcohol-making. The tavern where the feast took place had a lovely balcony side, and had a view on vines and moss. A lift up and I was on the upper level of the city, which I had not expected. Smells of well kept but old paper filled up my nose as I entered the immense library. The building was surely strange, with rooms I did not know the purpose of, a dark glowing pillar and an empty dark room. The city being composed of 80% walls, it made room for intimacy and different aesthetics from street to street. And then, the forge. Other visitors from Norland passed through me as my breath was stolen by the sight. In the mountain was a number of caves all filled to the brim with deep grey bricks, fire and a sorting of industrial machines, carriers and furnaces. I can’t begin to think the years of work it took to create this place, and the nation has all rights to be proud of it. The mines linked to it were fruitful. Reminder: explore Bjorn’s crack under the citadel

~Lapê Salavi's travel logs~ [a retranscription] DAY 2 On my road I heard people talking about a strange religion, about correcting the wrongs that we had suffered. I followed a few strange folks and met with 4 other people in the big house of #####, in the United Kingdom of Aaun. An old person, a kid, a mysterious soul and a grey-skinned cleric, and me, all gathered in a meeting room. The atmosphere was to secrecy and many words were spoken. It was all a bit too much for me and most of the explanation on the origins of the religion left me disoriented. What I was sure of is that some kind of magic was involved, as illusions surrounded us, the lights died and lit up at will. Once the speech ended, most excused themselves and disappeared. I was new to the region and decided to walk around and explore a bit. The place was very weirdly mapped and I got lost multiple times trying to leave the city. At last I found a dirt road and went on my way to Aaun. I didn’t spend a lot fo times in the capital, the activity being high in the town center. I visited a few merchants to replenish in food and took the opportunity to head for the local mines. I had to get help from a townsman as the entrance was not very well indicated, gathered interesting ores and left, this time without stranding off my path. Alone again, it was time I went to a place that had got my interest a few years prior: Norland. The travel wasn’t long and I walked around town a bit. It was night, so I headed to the inn for the night. When I entered the maing room upstairs, I was met with a discussion that seemed much like an argument. Someone was departing, people weren’t happy about it. I felt like I was intruding so I asked where I could find a place to spend the night and eventually a steward to talk about housing and prices. I vaguely knew they were the ones in charge of the taxes and rentings in every city, hence why i wanted to contact one. Contrary to what I feared, I felt good in Norland, and despite being a traveler, I had to have a return point, a place to call home at the end of my journey, and maybe make friends along the way. Everyone was so warm and welcomed towards me, barely mentionning my attire. The north reminded me of where I grew up, so it was set, I wanted to home there. A person named Farian Malto welcomed me to the Inn while I was without bedding. The discussion stirred and I was left with a newcommer, Sinner. Everyone knew her and she seemed kind, so I asked for her help. She knew the stewart, and also that the Inn was under a clan’s control, therefore I couldn’t stay. Knowing Alva, the steward, wasn’t available and probably grumpy at the hour, we headed outside and I was invited to share the home of Sinner and Farian, seemingly acquainted. I was given a spare key and I finally had a bed to rest and let the days of travel wash over me. -L.S.

~Lapê Salavi's travel logs~ [a retranscription] DAY 1 After a week of lonely travelling trough the forest I was glad to finally see civilization again. I had left my village and parents without hesitation and I felt liberated, but the repetitive task of walking, drinking and eating at regular intervals, and being surrounded by the sounds of birds and wind through the leaves had stopped being fun after the first few days. A lot of thoughts were swarming my mind and I needed a distraction. It all changed when I got out of the forest to be met with a lovely town on a coast. The most shocking detail was how small were the houses and doors. It all came to light when I met Mimoda Applefoot , a kind halfling. She was the temporary mayor of the Shiredom of Dùnwen It was my first time seeing one, and I was offered to stay and rest at the inn. I decided against and continued my visit. The crops where huge and I heard they were fine alcohol makers, are they an agricultural nation? I would love to taste their products once they're available. The garden was lovely as well and everything felt cozy and welcoming, quiet but warm. I had seen a mouse hole, a slow turtle and a hedgehog that managed to say “hark” at me. I didnt have enough time to map the while city but I wrote this log today to remember to go back, during an event perhaps? After munching on a piece of bread, I decided to follow the signs pointing towards Haense and the Haenseti-Ruka dual principality. It was my initial goal, it being the only big city I had heard of outside of my secluded community. I left Haense at dawn. I didn't spend a long time there, but i noticed the stalls and housings were true to a city this big, and after taking a bit of ressources in the local mines, I went on my road again. The reason for my early departure and slight disappointment was the crowd. Too many people at the same place, all the talking became a constant buzzing and it started to be overwhelming. I will visit more thoroughly on a later date, but will avoid the festivities. However, for a first day of visiting and socializing, I feel so free and alive! No one asked about my masks and accepted me like I was a regular citizen, and this anonymity pleases my soul. -L.S.

Hyphae You find a journal locked by a green ribbon. It's edges are worn, yet it is still firmly kept together. A crow and a rose are engraved onto its dark leathery face. Entry I My dear mother. Once a respected druid, now a sickly woman on her death bed. All because I ignored the underlying stress she bared. It had all started when I ventured off into the woods again like any normal day. I had failed once again to heed the worry of my mother, who had now fallen ill to an incurable disease. Not even all the doctors of our Seed - nor herself - could cure the wretched fevers, coughs, ill pale skin, or freckling chills that felt like needles to the back that she felt every time she woke up. How could I, her only son, be so ignorant. Now she lies there every day, as if waiting for her last breath. Now my graceful father works harder until he could work no longer. Now I sit here writing, as if writing my woes could ever cure my mother. That is until I prayed to the gods. Cerridwen and Cennunos, Mother and Father of the nature that is gifted to us. Even after every moon and sun did I wait and prayed for an answer. Patience grows thin, and and so did my inpatient mind thinned until it could no more. I have packed my bags up for a journey far away, into the deeper areas of Almaris. There, I can find some sort of cure, or at least hope to help my family. Entry II In my extensive knowledge I have gain from travelling around Almaris, I would have not known I would gain a sister, or well adopt one. As I was looking for some sort of person with a medical background, I had met the young prodigy Delilah coincidentally along the way to Vortice. She had kindly greeted me and swooned me over with her childish nature. How dearly I love her. As we grew closer the following month together, she was immediately under my wing. Through her, I had learned more about the people in the East, and even settled down at Elysium to understand the herbs around there. From Bat's bulb to Jailer's Moss, I studied hard to get to her level. I wished for my parents to meet her. They always ways wanted a daughter. Entry III The peaceful life of Elysium had taken a turn for the worse. Krugmar, the warring nation up the road from Elysium. War has stepped into our lives as they threaten us with raids and kidnapping our people. Delilah resides in Fenn for her studies; where it is safer. On the other hand, I have decided to stand my ground and stay at Elysium, in hopes that our kingdom is strong enough to keep the Orcs at bay. I watch over the walls, always anticipating death at our gates. Entry IV Uruks. Crude in nature and powerful in battle. They had somehow gotten into Elysium while I was away gathering more herbs. They side with Krugmar. What crazy racists they show to be. I used the citizen tunnels to quietly get in, spying on them as they lurk the streets of our home. Seven in total I have seen. How could a handful of them get in when we had guards on every post? I have heard their prideful yells of how we are cowards, how the guards ran away, and how they would not let anyone in; mostly because they did not have the key. They vilely spill alcohol down their throats, celebrating their success. I hope this ungodly hour ends before Delilah returns home. (Entries will be added continuously in the later future)

Frenrir Ireheart, a new fresh 31 year old dwarf, with a lot of adventure, in just one irl day. Frenrir is a new dwarf. He was born into the Irehearts and finally decided to do his trials and start his journey. He begun with going to Du Loc, as he heard his fellow bretheren were there. But at his surprise, a dragon was there. Frenrir with the dragon slaying clan in his blood, began to get furious that the Du Loc Guard would not let him in. Instead, a large ugly Oolog stood in his way and kept the gate shut, while calling him gay. Frenrir began to be furious, and asked two people behind him to go on a plan, however they did not follow up on it, and he got even more enranged, to the point that he got ready, thumped the ground and rushed towards the gates with his baldspot first. He hit the gate, making a loud clang but the gate did not leave a dent, and he was sent backwards and landed on his back. This however did not stop Frenrir, he continued to harass the dragon with words and bang on the gate. Eventually the dragon left and this made Frenrir rage in anger and leave, cursing Du Loc for not letting him in. Frenrir rode into the sun, and towards his home Urguan. Upon arrival, he was greeted by Garrond 'Orcbane' Frostbeard. They had a little convo, and it led to the topic of Bravery. Garrond challenged Frenrir to a test of Bravery where Frenrir was stand onto a wall, and Garrond was to throw an axe over his head, you were not allowed to flinch or duck, or you would lose the game. Garrond threw the axe, and Frenrir swallowed fear whole, and did not flinch. The axe went right over his head and he was safe and sound. The game attracted some folk, including another Ireheart. They all had turns, and eventually it came to someone else throwing the axe. Frenrir volunteered, and as he threw the axe, it was starting to fly towards Garrond, which made him duck, losing the game. Garrond called for another try and as he did, Frenrir threw an axe, which cut into Garronds head a little, but Garrond did not duck, nor flinch during the throw. As Frenrir thought it was fair for him to go up next, because of him hurting Garrond, The other Ireheart volunteered to throw. The Ireheart stepped back and gave the axe a good throw, it would hurl towards Frenrir, and knowingly it would be to low, Frenrir called for the gods as it his into his ear, splitting it almost full in half. Frenrir gave a good laugh and put a cloth around it, allowing it to be healed overtime. After a while of chilling in Urguan, another Ireheart came by, they talked about each others trials, which gave Frenrir the idea to go for them, along with the other Ireheart beardling. Garrond came along as they decided to go towards Krugmar. However, no one would open the gate, and they left. After a lot of chilling around Urguan, Frenrir decided to pay a visit to Elysium. Upon arrival, he was greeted with a large gate, after a while of shouting for someone to get it, a woman in large white armor came by, she called for Frenrir and asked him a couple of questions, which Frenrir answered with no hesitation. Then she called upon him to leave his weapons in a nearby chest. Frenrir, hesitant and cautious tried to negotiate, however it went nowhere, to the point a drunkard was having fun of the conversation. As the conversation lead on, and the persuasion was going nowhere, 3 unusual people came by, they said they came from "Yong Pink" apparently the town was called something else, and there was an argument about it, but the group was in red unusual armor, they were let in and left their weapons in the chest. Frenrir had a lot of insults at them and they threw insults back, there was many arguments, but eventually they all decided to get a drink. Finding no bartender and no one to pass them drinks, they just talked at the tavern, until more guards came along. After Frenrir shouted towards them, they came to Frenrir and the group of strange people. They called upon 2 of them. However, the two did not want to go and it turned into an argument. Frenrir was watching from the sidelines, when a woman came in and started giving out drinks. Frenrir won a bet against one of the strange men and got a free drink, which he slowly drank and slowly begun to get somewhat drunk. Frenrir flirted with a dark elf, which eventually slapped his face, and continued to flirt with him after. Everything eventually died down, and the strange group of people left, after dabbing Frenrir up. Frenrir followed and they left the gates of Elysium before, Frenrir noticed an Orc at the gates. He was a large Orc with red skin. And Frenrir challenged him to a duel. Frenrir and the Orc had a negotiation, and an argument about what happens when the other loses. It went from giving each other their balls, to giving each other their tusk, beard, skin, and eventually the Orc asked Frenrir to follow him. They went to the side of the walls and the Orc asked the elf for a knife. The elf passed him a knife and Frenrir knew what was coming. The Orc would give him the skin he wished for. Frenrir called him out and asked him not to but the Orc had lifted a middle finger at him, and then sliced it off. The finger would fall onto the ground and Frenrir, expecting this to happen, slice off his ear that was injured previously. As it fell, he held it, and the 2 complimented each other for being so tough. The Orc healed the dwarf with shaman magic, and then begun the duel. Both sides fought bravely and full of strength, but the Orc was the one who fell at the end. The Orc called it a good fight and so did the dwarf as he picked him up. They both dabbed up, and gave each other their 'sacrifices.' The Orc kept the ear and Frenrir kept the finger for his trials. Frenrir left Elysium happy that day, he met new friends, flirted and won a duel. just something fun to write about, im bored idk lol

A Tombkeeper's Diary "Steel Rings No More" [Music] ~o.O.o~ Across the lush and lonely mountains hiked a small gathering of dwarves, tightly confined to the trail ahead of them by morning mists. Their silent travels left Angr plenty of time to freely roam his mind, though the occasional lick of tall grass wet with dew rouses him from his musings. Glorious golden beams of sunlight glimmered through lazy clouds, refracting in the haze below. The warmth of the light would kiss the skin of their travel party, doing little to uplift the Irehearts' groggy mood. Mosquitos and dragonflies constantly harassed them, rising curiously from nearby ponds and puddles to greet their stout visitors. Alongside them, two dire wolves accompanied, one gray and one white. Local fauna steered clear as to not be mauled by ravenous bite or cut down by their masters, knowing all too well the appearance of a pack of predators. "'Ow long tel' weh arrive aht tae village, ye fink?" Angr inquired, his mind no longer being a sufficient enough distraction for aching muscles. Aghuid, the next Ireheart ahead of him, coughed and hacked before he spat into the bushes to his left. "Shut uhp, Angr." He grumbled, the onset of fatigue crawling over his shoulders as he grumbled about getting **** sleep. "Wel fock yu too d'en." Angr comments, sighing as he continues to lug his pack of supplies along. Up ahead approached a shaggy brown bear and its cub, their eyes fixed on the carcass of a deer decaying beside the trail. "Yu see t'aht hungreh fock'r?" Aghuid replied, picking up pace. "Aye?" Angr answered. Without warning, Aghuid hurled a fist at the beast's throat, his burly arm forcing forward as he sends the bear tumbling down a hill. "Tha's..." He huffed, "Tha's gonnah beh yu 'ef ye keep pushen' yur luck..." He piped up. "Ah trekked all tae wey ou' 'ere tae sleep on ah focken rock!" Aghuid roars, birds fleeing from the nearby trees as a result. Angr nodded, on any other occasion those would be fighting words, but Angr was nowhere near the caliber of his brother. While Angr had been working hard in recent years, his stout and musculare frame would easily be overpowered by the well toned and sculpted body of a blooded Ireheart, much less against a seasoned smith and warrior. Though his reluctance to act was not cowardice, it was respect for his own limits; Angr was not so naïve to think he could win that battle. Many hours would pass, the group sharing the mundane meals of a cookpot over the campfire. Exhaustion ate away at the speed of their journey until they eventually holed up inside a crevasse near the valley, hundreds of stars peering down on them from beyond the blackened veil. The charcoal now flickered with a faint red glow, ash of the once abundant firewood settled in a mound within the bindings of its rock ring. Strewn about were several restless dwarves, tossing and turning on the bare stone as they slept. Angr was up late as usual, a metal cup of moonshine by his side as he watched the sky churn with thousands of dizzying dots from the mouth of their cave. Again he frolicked through his thoughts as an incessant snoring howled behind him, yet surprisingly he was shook back to reality by the approach of Aghuid, his fingertips scraping against the rugged texture of stone. "Wut's got ye up?" He grunts, taking a seat next to Angr. He waited for a moment, the sky's glaze twinkling in his eyes. "Home." He answered. "Home? Ah kno, t'es trip es taken way tu long..." Aghuid scoffed. "Nae, ah mean Home." He says once more, "Tae citeh, ah don' get et..." Angr mutters. Aghuid would groan out a sigh as he leaned forward go pick up a stone, his golem legs crackling against the rock he sat on. "Tae steel ov Urguan rings no longah," he continues, not turning away from the skies above. "Weh cannae 'ven stey unitehd ovah semple quarrels such es ah keng." Angr finishes, sipping from his cup and shuddering from the kick of his drink. "Angr, ye got tae undahstan', tae strengf ov tae dwed doesnae com' from agreeance." Aghuid says, hucking the stone into the valley. "Et comes frem our bond." He chuckles, "Et soun's cheezzy, ah kno', bu' evereh toime weh need tae wurk togethah tae dwed always wurk t'eir shoite out." Angr waited, sharing his silence. "Bu' et es sahd, tae see our halls soh empteh once 'gain. Yer righ when ye sey t'at tae steel rings nae more." Aghuid added. "Aye, et's hard tae find som'un taht wan's teh keep fings goin en t'ere." Angr says. "Focken Grandaxes..." Aghuid mumbles, lighting a cigar. "Eh?" Came Angr. "Nufen', ah was talken tu mehself." He replies, placing the stogy between his lips. "Yur jus' ah beardling, don' get tu worked up abou' et..." He adds, puffing out smoke from his slightly yellowed teeth. Though Angr did not know it, that last comment stung Aghuid slightly, the rash actions of Durgar Ireheart still lingering in many forms, even staring at him from his axe. Without another word, Aghuid crawled back into the cave and went back to sleep, leaving Angr to his own devices. He wondered, was there any hope left for a family torn asunder? Each and every dwarf in his race was a brother or sister of some kind, so what hope could the future possibly hold? Angr rested his hand on the iron mask tied to his belt, he felt for this bond his brother spoke of, but could not find it. Maybe this iron would not yet give way to the ringing of steel.

A Tombkeeper's Diary "The Time I Drowned" [Music] Beneath a trickling underground stream, cold mineral rich water pours entropy over top Angr's head. The chaotic pitter patter screaming out into the cavern's silent expanse as the dwarf's naked body is soaked in liquid solitude. Though strange, Angr had routinely done this, seeking to quell his indomitable spirit which often thrashed with a primal rage. He hoped this time would be different, as his body was struggling to keep up with the demand of an Ireheart's bloodlust, as evident by his stitched breast. Most of his brethren already knew how to utilize their Ire like second nature, but Angr's reservations allowed this quality to run rampant. Around him, many hundred spiders of varying sizes watched from their burrows, some even daring to reveal themselves a few meters away. They would go no closer, staring at the apex predator of their ecosystem with a paralyzing hesitation. It was no secret that these arachnoids were timid due to the land's history, but Angr lived down here. He had slaughtered countless amounts of their kin prior simply because he could, he hunted them. Angr had planned on their visit, using their presence as temptation for his hunger to kill as he quietly waited to ****** it and pull himself back in. The Ireheart's skin was washed in stony grays and faded greens as he patiently sat for hours, internal turmoil simmering just beneath. He knew he couldn't rush his restraint, he needed to make sure that he could differentiate between himself and his bloodline in the heat of battle. The stirring darkness ahead gave way to lapping waves, thoughts crashing into his mind's cliff. He dwelled on how badly he wanted glory, the triumph of victory. Daily work dulled his direction, he grew more and more lost the longer he went without scratching the itch. He had dedicated himself to the tasks nobody else would do, but he didn't want to be left out because of it. This made him angry, no, this made him furious. He had put in the work, he had offered himself to preform the services of Dungrimm, why should he have to suffer the curse of incompetency? In a blinding movement, Angr bolted up and roared as he hurled his fist to the spider in front of him. And yet he stopped. He had stopped himself mere centimeteres away from the fuzzy head of a mid sized spider, allowing it the chance to scurry away with its life. He panted as his blood seethed in his veins, and he understood what he was missing. Nothing was owed to him, his performance, his results were his own. He had a long way to go before he could swim in his ancestry instead of drown. He scoffed as he plopped back down into his puddle. "Yavok yu bahstahd..." Angr grumbled. If he ever wanted to do his clan proud, he would need to continue to practice under various methods. He wondered, how could anyone ever hope to be on the level of Yavok, a legend who learned to master his fire. Perhaps that is why he was declared Irehearted, because he had found a way to channel his anger physically into his pumping arteries, rather than the annexes of his brain. Once more, he fell back into his trance. His psyche lulled ever deeper underwater where he could again try to swim, rather than drown.

A Tombkeeper's Diary ~ o . O . o ~ "Our Source Of Ire" [Music] Beneath Urguan lies a massive cavern, an expanse of winding abyss that forms the underbelly of the mountain home of the dwarves. It is down here that a plethora of predators and hostile creatures dominate the local ecosystem, monsters that would give voidal horrors a run for their money. In the inky shadows of the underground sat a lone Ireheart, scribbling away at his journal as he is illuminated only by a nearby campfire, and the crumbling gate of the Doomforged hall in the distance. Beside him, a hot bowl of stew with lumps of cooked purple colored meat and beets swimming in beef broth, served freshly from a boiling pot sat over the fire. "Since my residency in the chasm, I have had plenty of time to wonder to myself, or at least among my various. My days run into the next, my weeks are starting to feel like days. I continue to persevere towards the end goal, bringing peace to the souls trapped behind these collapsed walls. I can only hope that they understand the slow pace given the amount of work ahead of me, it's exhausting digging around the clock." Angr put down his quil for a moment, spooning a mouthful of stew from the bowl. Sighing, the Ireheart would look around himself and gaze into the darkness as he chews the tough and gamey meat for a while. In the void before him, Angr noticed a figure of short stature shuffling towards him which stopped when it was only just barely visible. The dwed took a seat on a rock at the edge of the light's reach and remained silent. "Can ah 'elp yeh?" Angr asked, unsure as to what they wanted. "Nei, jus com'en tae check on me famileh." The figure grumbled, his voice almost mournful. "Yer an Ire'eart?" Angr probed, intrigued by the sudden arrival of a relative, and in here of all places too. "Aye." He commented, not sharing another word. "Ahm gonnae contenue meh journal fer ah momen', ef ye don' mind." Angr commented, picking up his quil once more. "Though my body tires and my bones ache, I can feel an anger inside me that propels me onwards. It isn't a hatred towards any one individual or thing, it's a general sense of displeasure or dissatisfaction with something currently lurking in my mind. I've heard countless tales and remarks from the dwed telling of an unbridled rage that defines the Irehearts, but what if they're wrong? What if what sets us apart isn't an uncontained fury, but rather an unending determination to see things through?" Angr paused at the sound of shuffling, as his mysterious relative was getting ready to leave. "Oi, wut's yer name brothehr, maybeh weh can grab ah pint later?" He chuckles. "Tha's alrigh, ah've spent enouf toime aht tae tavehrn alreadeh..." His brother comments as a stone hand reaches down to grab a mangled hunk of metal with the stamp of a Starbreaker smith from next to where he had sat. As the figure began to leave, Angr squinted his eyes as he tried to narrow his focus on this unknown dwed, deadset on seeing any discerning features. He could make out what looked to be a white pelt singed at the edges, clinging on to charred skin as the rest of the dwed disappeared into the darkness. "Hmph." He muttered, taking up his quil again. "Perhaps this is what guided us sons of Yavok to mercilessly fight in any battle, not out of rage but out of a sheer desire to see the conflict through to its end. This very well may be the same force that beckons me to heft my spade and free these forgotten tombs, though my body is weak my spirit remains strong. Though the thought might be heresy, if we are truly to be driven by the same blood as our paragons, then even the grip of Dungrimm may not be enough to keep fallen Irehearts from returning to our mortal coil for their own purposes. To this end one could argue our tenacity, our ferocity, our Ire..." Angr was again interrupted by distant sounds, this time the sound of metal and boots against stone coming from the abyssal plains ahead of him. It was at that moment that Angr believed he had found the conclusion to his entry, as he could see the quickly fading image of several unfamiliar Irehearts sat around an illusory fire with smiles on their faces, the darkness quickly spilling in to replace where they once were. He nodded after a moment of deliberate silence, walking over to the large purple cave monster he had slain earlier and retrieving his war axe from its flesh. As Angr tidied up his belongings, he wrote one last line in his journal entry. "Our Ire, is proof of our worth to the gods. Our Ire is us."

Sat in the dimly lit annex of collapsed ruins, a lone Ireheart scribbles away in his journal. Beside him rests an iron half-mask on the pine table, with a one-handed ferrum war axe resting against the leg. Strewn around him are a variety of chipped and bent tools used in clearing out the space he currently occupies. The stench of a tallow candle wafts out of the short length hall and into the cavernous underbelly of the new dwarven cityscape. Taking his time, the Ireheart scrawls an entry into the ram hide book before him. "Often I wonder, do the mountains carry our fallen dreams? When our kin are born under this stone, raised beneath it and taught to defend it, when we are given titles and aspirations, do these mountains silently cheer us on? Time and time again we have been protected by the very lands we struggle to defend, whether the foe be of fiery hell or watery ocean. We return our bodies to the land we swore ourselves to, and in doing so these mountains remember us. It is this reason that the mountains endlessly weep green. Like a mother who has lost their child, they can do nothing but cry. Our derelict halls and abandoned lands do not forget the lives of those whom they nutured. For the mountains who have provided us with everything they had to offer, we gave them back our loved ones in good faith. They shield our eyes from rot with tears of their own; Blades of grass and blooming flowers shroud the mounds where our fallen reside. Even the most ferocious of warriors are swaddled by the love of our homeland. My ramblings need not be interpreted as poetic, visit your relatives and tell me if the mountains have taken good care of them. Perhaps this is an unspoken way of Dungrimm granting privacy for the dead, as prying eyes can pressure one into making choices that are not their own. An iron visage obscures the transition between life and death, giving the weary travelers time to be themselves again before passing onwards." Satisfied with his work, the Ireheart leaves his work to dry beside his dainty candle. He rose from his seat and grabbed a torch, carefully lighting it with the candle flame before propping it upright with a few stones. Pick in hand, he continued to chip away at these forgotten tombs.

Entry One Eliza Raven carefully opens the cover of her brand-new book. The leather binding creaks softly as it stretches. The pages, utterly blank, cry out to her; waiting to be filled with her words, thoughts, emotions… Reaching for her quill at the corner of the desk, she pulls it from the inkwell, dabbing it gently on the rim. Eliza places the ink-filled tip to the off-white paper and the ink immediately begins to melt into the page. She slides the pen across the surface, the light scratching sound soothing her untidy thoughts. “Today, things happened. Today, my life changed drastically. Again. Today, the remnants of my recently-healed heart were shattered again and left on creaky wooden planks. I’d considered leaving them there. After all, how many times can one’s heart fragment and rebuild itself again? I did not leave my destroyed love there at the dock, however. Be it the right or wrong answer, I picked the pieces up and took them with me as I stumbled my way to Ryuu’s apartment in Providence. The four flights of stairs to her rooms felt like a mountain. Upon entering, my entire body collapsed on the rugs, and I slept. For how long, I do not know. All I know is I feel…wrong. Unsettled. I feel as though I’ve been plucked from a world I understood and loved, to… nothing. Perhaps it is better to feel no emotions. I have cried all the tears I could produce. Bless dear Bernard for showing up and forcing me to eat. Such kindness in him that so few see. “Bernard says I must find a way to move forward. So, move forward I shall. Rose will be here soon and I long to see my daughter’s face. I can hardly believe she is thirteen. I hope I recognize her. I must be strong for Rose. She cannot see her mother this way. She must see a brave, strong, independent woman that cares for all and takes no one’s ****. I must be that for her. Rose will be my guiding light as he had been before. She will be my reason for waking up every day and making the most of it. Perhaps she will heal my broken heart. “I can’t get it out of my head, though. The last thing he said to me. “I will always love you, Eliza. But we simply cannot be. Not in this world, and not in any other. I'll sacrifice my own heart to keep you safe, and hope someone mends both of ours someday. I will be here, whether you see me or not. A silver falcon bequeathed in sunlight." I’ll never forget those words. I’ll never forget how he looked. I’ll never forget watching him walk away and the light shining off his icy-white hair. Even from a distance, I watched him. He left me behind, for what, I do not know. I do know that I will love him until I die. And, though he may live forever, I hope I am never forgotten. I hope he thinks of me as a raven on the wind. I hope he remembers me being cheerful, happy, in love. For that is how I will always remember him. Not the cold, broken man he was on our last day. But the cheeky, clever, poetic soul that I loved with my whole being. That is what I choose. “And tomorrow is a new day. The sun will rise, as always, and I with it. I will meet each day with the innocent joy of a child. I will grow from my pain. And I will always remember my Si.” Eliza holds the cover open for a moment, allowing the last of the ink to dry before closing it carefully. She places her quill back in its well and takes a deep breath. Her red eyes and tight throat remind her that healing takes time. And although she yearns to feel better tomorrow, she will not. Pushing her chair back, she rises and heads for the bedroom with but one thought. ‘I must get some rest. Perhaps it will help the pain.’ As she curls herself into a ball in the center of the over-sized bed, another thought comes to her, just before a restless sleep overtakes her. ‘I wish I had some of Avalor’s whiskey….’ [[Characters mentioned in this post: Rose Raven (Plaguedocling), Bernard (Joseph_V_B00), Avalor Astasel (SpaceOddity), Silas Astasel (ThatTromboneGuy), Ryuu Nova, Eliza Raven (gurlpirate)

*+𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑎𝑡 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑎, 𝑎𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝘩𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑖𝑛 𝑤𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒. 𝑇𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑔𝘩 𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑟𝑢𝑠𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝘩𝑒𝑟. 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑠𝘩𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑑, 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟+* [𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝟸𝟹𝑟𝑑] "𝐼 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑝𝑠𝑒, 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑦 𝐼 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑟𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒. 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑦 , 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒. 𝑇𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑔𝘩 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝐼 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐𝘩𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑉𝑎𝑒𝑙𝑦𝑎. 𝑀𝑦 𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑐𝘩𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼'𝑚 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝐼 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝘩𝑜𝑚𝑒. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑓𝑢𝑙, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑘𝑛𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟. 𝑇𝘩𝑒𝑦 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑢𝑝𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘩𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑦. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚𝑠 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒. 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒. 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛, 𝑠𝑜 𝐼'𝑚 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡. 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔."

((Concept Art by Selenada on DA)) Full Name: Renée Marie de Aryn Gender: Female Age: 25 Race: Human BIOGRAPHY Renée was born to Thomas and Klara de Aryn on the 16th of the Amber Cold, 1529 in Kaedrin. As a child, Renée was a very active and engaging child - she always ran about with her cousin Vivienne, played with her dollies, and enjoyed being read to. As she grew, Renée retained many childish attributes and had fits of anger. Worried for his daughter, Thomas consulted many doctors and nothing could be found physically wrong with her. Finally he decided to send her away to a private tutor and nurse who could care for her - he thought she might be stressed in their busy home and he secretly felt a bit embarrassed of his daughter. Often when the family had company, Renée had to be put in her room and closely guarded so she would not disturb the others. After a few years of living privately, Renée returned at the age of seventeen to her father’s barony of Virdain. Seemingly mostly cured of her previous afflictions, they are replaced with others, though they are a bit more inconspicuous. During this time, she also took it upon herself to write "The Dove Maiden Letters," a small series of three anonymous letters meant to be her own thoughts in a world where speaking them publicly would not be proper for her to do. She only wrote three letters, after being exposed as the Dove Maiden by Gwyndolyn Warlai. In a strange turn of events, she was baptised in Krajia and declared a Raevir. She was given the name Rozaliya “Roza” Tomasovich and had many adventures and also many close calls - such as her run in with orcs or her escape from a raid. As requested by Lord Denis de Bar, she has returned to Virdain. Now she spends her days frequenting other Houses of Oren and writing within the confines of her old manor-home. PERSONALITY Age 17: Innocent Spacey Random Religious Curious Naive Caring Age 25: Innocent Religious Stressed Curious Caring Less trusting than in her earlier years AFFLICTIONS/SYMPTOMS* Vivid dreams Obsessively writes/carries a journal. Sometimes she writes incoherent words rather than actual entries Is prone to hyperventilation and episodes when distressed Wanders and sometimes forgets why she is there Habitually only wears white dresses OCCASIONALLY laughs and cries at inappropriate times OCCASIONALLY talks about things not pertaining to the conversation VERY OCCASIONALLY speaks or mumbles to herself *She is not violent, insane, or incapable of understanding. She is a functioning human being who suffers from very mild mental dysfunctions. (AKA, she is not meant to be used as an excuse to troll or divulge important information to outsiders.) APPEARANCE Thin build, height (5’ 8”) weight (127 lbs) Pale skin Strawberry-blonde hair (curly, wild, long) Hazel eyes Only wears white dresses ART AND SKIN THEME SONG

((NOTE: This is a Work-In-Progress, and starts from the beginning of my character's RP to where he is present day. I shall update it every Saturday with various stories of Mandru's misadventures and experiences.)) You come across an old journal, somehow, in some way. It is bound in material that has apparently been drenched in a fireproofing potion. You feel excited as you open the rather thick, battered journal. You begin to read: THE JOURNAL AND MISADVENTURES OF DOCTOR MANDRU KAECILLIUS SCOTT ~Part I: Mandru Scott in The Land of Kalos~ Day 1, Year 1 ----------------- Finally, a book to record what's happened to me... A REAL, HONEST-TO-GOODNESS BOOK with a quill! A REAL QUILL! Sorry, journal, for sounding so demented. I suppose it’s just that the last few days here in the Kalos Jail on the Human island have been terribly... Well, terrible. And uncivilized. And disturbing. And many, many other things... It all started after I woke up, washed upon the shores of this strange, island land, ready to be greeted by the natives, whom must SURELY be in need of a doctor! I mean, if there's one profession out there that shall never die, it's healing, right? And humans other than myself are always killing each and every thing they can find. So I came from Elysium to see what help I could offer to the people of Kalos in the way of healing, perhaps to establish a clinic there. However, instead of laurel reefs and other symbols of honor placed upon my head when I arrived to help them, like those other islanders so long and far away from here did, I was greeted by a disturbing sight: A Brothel. A BIG Brothel. In fact, it was SO big, I could have sworn the entire town was in there. In fact, now that I know my own kind a bit better, I think the entire town WAS in there… Now, unlike my fellow humans, I dislike brothels. I am a religious man and a philosopher, and believe in three doctrines above all else to abide by in my life: If you do evil against good you'll eventually regret it; if you put your mind to something, you'll eventually complete the task you've set your mind to. And to NEVER, EVER go ANYWHERE unarmed in this creatorcursed land, lest you wish to condemn yourself to eventual death. I Immediately went around attempting to get fellow followers of good and morality to burn down this evil place of lust and greed. However, a ranger approached me, threw me in irons, and began dragging me off to jail. He ignored my arguments, saying things like, "Ye'd be harmin' the business of honest, 'hard-workin' women, laddie," and "Why can't ye leave them 'lone loike everyone else 'round here?" And finally, "'sides. Gotta nigh' there meself to attend ta’ soon". Uncivilized savage... He even insulted my brother, Rathian, as well in the process of dragging me away. Called him the most blundering ranger whom ever lived. At least Rathian SPEAKS properly and has an IQ rating that surpasses 1 digit! Well, at least I have you, journal, to write in during my imprisonment... Yay! The guards are coming to release me. Will write more later, journal. Day 10, Year 1 ----------------- Hello journal, you wonderful, inanimate object! Fate has turned in my favor... Well, sort of. Alright, kind-of sort-of. Okay, okay! The whole world's against me, but at LEAST I now have a job and safe place to stay... After being released from jail, I started to wonder around, searching for someone to buy land from. I'd heard that Lord Treasurer Denims was the man I wished to see, and, unfortunately, that meant going into his office in the upper level of the Brothel... I could not be seen in such a vulgar place; therefore, I put on my sister's spare pair of goggles, my brother's spare dark hood and mask, and entered. I was reminded how much I hate brothels. The multitude of unsanitary rooms... The terrible food there. The immorality and sin. I immediately asked around for Lord Denims, but he was apparently "busy". With what, I could make an educated guess. I immediately left, and washed my hands in the sea afterwards to keep from getting any air-bound germs or parasites from that place. Then I thought, “Why, if even these people's NOBLEMEN participate in this... LUSTING... I'd rather live with the Elves! At least THEY don't throw you in jail for trying to rid the world of both a Health menace and a crime against morality and God!” So, having thought this, I set out to find the isle of the elves. They would not, unfortunately, let me on their ferry, however. So I donned my cloak and mask, and stowed away on board. When I got there, I entered a theater, taking time to rest. An elf with grey hair (a strange sight to see) was talking to the theater owner about funding a play. "Ah, a play!" I thought to myself. "Civilization at last. I like the elves already..." I looked to the two men, and asked them excitedly if they needed a doctor in town. The grey haired elf, whose name I later discovered was Balthassar, said no. He suggested I check around the Human lands, for many are often injured around there. I sighed. "Well, back to square one then," I thought to myself, and sailed a rowboat onwards back to the Human Island, having to leave grand Malinor behind. A storm came, however, and wrecked my boat into the northern side of the island. I looked around to get my bearings, dazed, and saw an island tower a distance aways. I swam over to this tower, as it was my last hope of finding a place I would feel welcome in this world. When I got there, I entered the tower's lobby. Shortly afterwards, a traveling hillbilly (whom I have nicknamed "The Hobo") beat me unconscious with a GOLDEN CLUB. You'd think he could buy some decent robes if he could afford to whack doctors around with golden clubs. I'd rather encounter 5 of those gunpowder beasts than face The Hobo again... I still have nightmares of the strange man and his golden club! Thank goodness that the tower's staff came to rescue me. They chased The Hobo into the sea, and helped me into a chair, where I sat for a bit while I talked to what I assumed was their leader. His name is Saul VonSchlicten, and he is indeed their (well, OUR, I guess now) leader. He speaks in a Hansetian accent, which some would find hard to understand. However, I understand it perfectly; do I not also speak natively in a Hansetian accent when I do not cover it up with a standard one? "Shall I give you a tour after you have recovered, Doctor?" He asked. I was shocked; this man and his comrades were not the average brothel-attending Humans of the main island, though their leader DID look a bit high on Cactus Green. They were... like me! After my tour of their underground engineering laboratory, their observatory atop their tower, and their testing course, I was quite ready to ask for a job there. In fact, I did. I was accepted as their company doctor, and given a small clinic in which to heal their wounded. What a wonderful deal! What wonderful people! I love my new job. I'll ask around the company to see if they have any stories prior to when I came here that they'd like to include in my journal, as they all lead very interesting lives: ============================= PRE-MANDRU VONSCHLICHTENCO. STORIES ============================= /spoiler [[To be added by any of the old members of VonSchlictenCo that wish to include stories that happened before Mandru's arrival on Akheron. Just write up a story and PM it to me for me to add it!]] /spoiler Many people work at this place other than just the Boss (Saul) though. Jonas Walkingsnake, our crazed Head Architect, is one of the best, though craziest, builders I’ve ever seen. He has an obsession with chickens, which is also commonly found in Mad Elvish Alchemists and Crazed Wizards. Hydrose Goldhand, a loopy dwarf, keeps things interesting around the company. From Project Aqua-Chicken’s research to getting piped-up on Cactus Green, he makes the long workdays in the workshop intresting for us. Balthassar Windheart, the elf I encountered earlier, it turns out, is the company’s Head of Research. I want to have his job one day when he retires. Well, IF he retires… Do Elves even retire? Oh well. Just a dream I’ll never achieve. Russell Moore is our Chief of Security. Simply said, he keeps us safe from invaders. Grady Barrington is Saul’s right-hand man. He creeps me out for some reason. I think he’s some type of War Hero or something. He’s not around much, but when he is, something major usually happens to the company… Day 52, Year 1 ------------------- These last 2 months, journal, have been quite… interesting. I have been working on a special project, by the name of “Project Ghast”. Project Ghast is an attempt to access the Seven Skies using hot air to lift a basket full of men. The “Airbag”, as I have named it, is made of Ghast Skins from Elysium. I fear we may not be able to get any more, however… Oh well! We’ve got enough for the Prototype. When I build the main Hellrock heater, Saul came over to inspect it. “Hmm… Very nice stripper pole you’ve built there, Doctor Scott!” He said, actually THINKING it was a piece of BROTHEL FURNITURE I was building! He then put up a sign that said, “VonSchlictenCo. Stripper Pole Mk. I”. “NO SAUL! IT IS /NOT/ A STRIPPER POLE!!! WHAT IS IT WITH YOU AND YOUR OBSESSION WITH WHORES?!” I screamed, tearing down the label. “If you must know, it’s part of Project Ghast!” “Ah…..” Saul said, looking genuinely disappointed. “Carry on then.” He then walked away, and I continued working. Not like we even have any personnel capable of USING a pole as of now anyways... Other demented inventions are also being produced. Such as an UNDERWATER BOAT, which has probably been doomed to sink upon completion, and the cookie machine, which is the LEAST useful, though most tastey, invention made so far. I like my new job. Day 157, Year 1 ------------------- We'll be leaving for Anthos soon, a continent across the sea. Unfortunently, we’ll be unable to take my prototype Project Ghast Basket with us, creator curse it. However, on the bright side, we'll be taking one of the most advanced ships in the world: The Spirit of Akheron. It has a VonSchlictenCo prototype Steam Drive installed, meaning it is both incredibly fast and reliable. This ship is one of the most beautiful I've ever seen. THE most beautiful ship, actually. Unlike any I have ever seen before... Rosella would have loved this ship; she used to LOVE steam power. I miss her. A lot. Anyways, I'd best keep writing to keep my mind off my enslaved sister. 'Tis not worth tormenting my mind over a person I may never see in this life again. Saul and the other staff members have been quite nice to me, and I to them. They feel almost like the happy family I never had. Well, /almost/. They have their dementalities and flaws, but don't we all? That Balthassar guy from Malinor… I'm not quite sure what to think of him yet, however, journal. He doubts my medical skill. When he asked me what the difference between an atricle and a ventricle was, I had mistaken him for asking what their functions were, and told him what they were. "Humph. I'm getting my Medicare over in Malinor, if that's alright with you, Saul. This man OBVIOUSLY doesn't know his profession," he said in a smart-alec tone of voice. "A veign is to a ventricle as an artery is to an atricle." "You think I don't know that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "No, doctor, I'd don't think you do, for you did not answer my question as requested," he replied, frowning. "You're right; I went the extra step," I calmly replied. "I told you what few human doctors could: the FUNCTIONS of the atricles and ventricles: arteries and veigns, if you prefer to refer to them as such." Before the argument could escalate, Saul stopped us. He then led me out of the cog of Akheron Island, and spoke to me in private. "You've done well these past few weeks, Doctor Scott," he replied, smiling. "I think it is time to give you a promotion to Chief of Medicine." "R-Really?" I asked, shocked. To me, this was a grand achievement. Even though I was the ONLY medical staff member at the company, I still figured I'd get a decent raise along with the position. I did, as well! I was able to afford to buy shoulder cuffs for my cloak. Shortly after my promotion, an easterner by the name of Xi Swain arrived on the island. I'm thrilled by his joining of our company, as eastern technology and customs could much benefit our company of engineers, especially in the arts of hydraulics and scribing. Even better, he seems to get along with Balthassaar as much as /I/ do. Still, there's something malicious about this guy. I'm going to be keeping an eye on him, journal. That being said, I love Akheron island, journal. These have been the best days of my life. ~Part I.5: The Pirates, The Witch(es), and The Engineers~ Day 200, Year 1 -------------------- Our voyage to The Promised Lands has been going on for several months now. It's been mostly uneventful, except for today, that is. Today, we caught sight of shore. We docked the Spirit of Akheron near there, and proceeded to go to land. However, as soon as we got there, DREADFUL Testificate witches attacked us. Saul and I discharged our crossbows at them, while Russell attacked them with his sword in a knight-like fashion. Finally, after killing the witches, we looked inside their home. We learned that they were Cultists, whom were performing Iblanic rituals. However, instead of leaving the place intact for further examination, Saul decided most intelligently (I say "Most Intelligently" in a sarcastic tone of voice, journal) to BLOW THE PLACE UP. So after seeing the place get blown to smithereens with the last of the Gunpowder-Beast explosives, we continued on our journey. Day 214, Year 1 --------------------- We stopped at a Testificate outpost for supplies today. Jonas purchased a pet chicken from the strange men, Saul purchased some (rather naughty) paintings and tapestries, and I purchased more seasickness pills for the staff's tendency to upchuck their previous meals at the dinner table while sailing. That type of stuff REALLY gets on my nerves; the last thing I need is for Hydrose to throw up on my chicken salad while Jonas cries about someone KILLING the chicken to MAKE the chicken salad in the first place! Oh wait, that already happened this morning... We eventually discovered a strange portal underground, which the villagers were apparently terrified of. When I spoke to them further, they muttered something about "Most Terrible Things" inside that portal. All-in-all, we decided it best not to check that portal out, and continued on our way. I hope Hydrose doesn't throw up in my chicken salad AGAIN this trip... Day 225, Year 1 --------------------- *This page is drenched in sea water.* Pirates. Attacking. Coming. Must arm fire machine. Can't write. Day 262, Year 1 --------------------- Sorry about that last page, journal. Anyways, here I am, writing in you, preparing to pedal my way towards The Promised Lands in the Spirit of Akheron's embarkment pedal boat. We were raided by pirates. We could have EASILY outrun them... Had the Steam drive not malfunctioned. We were sitting sucks to the heavily armed ship. They fired potions and arrows at us from over the side; had we not set up our fire machine, a weapon we were expirementing with for sea warfare, and used to to burn their ship to the ground, we most surely would have died. But AFTER we destroyed their vessel, the pirates swan towards our OWN! I drew my sabere, and managed to fend several off and knock them over the side as we sailed away with our, by this time, repaired Steam Drive. However, several knocked ME over the side in turn, along with one of our embarkment rafts. Now I sail towards Kalos... Alone. Luckily, shore is already in sight. My plan is to sail to the Human Capital and meet up with the rest of the company. That is, if I'm not attacked by anything else or (God forbid) am killed out here at sea... ~Part II: "The future looks bright. Very bright indeed..."~ Day 1, Year 2 ------------------- So. After finally getting shop set up here in Abresi, I find that my situation is, again, depressing. I suppose I should start from the beginning... After making my way to The Cloud Temple, I began to take the long road to Abresi, Captial City of the Holy Oren Empire. When I arrived, there was a massive struggle for populating the city. The nobles made a KILLING off giving loans to the new settlers to get them started. As I wandered through the streets, a familiar man with a green jacket and goggles waved me over: Saul! After I greeted Saul, he explained our grim situation. We had NONE of our original wealth, the Spirit of Akheron was greatly damaged, and we'd resorted to operating a TAVERN to keep from going broke! "Mein GOTT... And I thought KALOS was bad..." I muttered, scratching my head. "We're making a killing, though!" Saul replied. "We are the ONLY operating tavern in the city! Though the taxes are high, we are making almost 80% profits! Don't worry, Doctor Scott; we'll be back in the engineering business before you know it." "Good... Since I'm an experienced wanderer, I'll go to the wilds for vital resources. " Saul nodded, and I was on my way. Day 7, Year 2 ------------------ I've finally returned from my expidition journal. The materials I have gathered have now catapulted The Rusty Cog into 130% profitability. Saul's also been recruiting. Just today, an aspiring alchemist by the name of Gilrean Tisgareth joined our ranks. In addition to her studies of alchemy, she is also a GRAND engineer. She has invented a device called the "audiophonebox", which can play a single note when it's main button is pushed. She is, perhaps, one of the gifted and smartest women I've ever met. She also has taken an especially great intrest in me, and has the tendency to challenge me to races quite often... I don't know why, but I always accept and enjoy them, and almost always loose. Anyways, until Saul gets the Alchemy store up and running, it would appear that Gilrean and I are on expidition duty. Not that I don't like the assignment... It gives me an oprotunity to keep my navigation skills up to standard. I think Gilrean likes the job as well; she told me today while we traveled on the road to our second expedition that that was the main reason she left Malinor. Adventure and Knowledge. I could swear that Gilrean reminds me of ME sometimes... A much more energetic, less pessimistic me. Anyways, wish us luck, journal. Day 13, Year 2 -------------------- Gilrean and I have returned with many tons of wood. Saul was so excited, he almost blew a gasket. He then hurriedly dragged us to the new alchemy shop/clinic combo in Salvus. 'Tis peaceful in Slavus these days. At least, a lot less violent than Abresi. I've been named Overseer of the medical wing of the place due to my basic alchemical understanding and my skills as a doctor. Xi is the shop's manager, assigned with me to manage the place, and sells arcane artifacts and potions to the customers. He is a master salesman, and makes even my grandfather, a wise Alrasian Buisnessman, look like an amateur. Gilrean has also been assigned with me, much to my delight, out here at this facility. I rather enjoy her company as both a pupil in the art of adventure and a traveling companion. More staff is to come to our shop as the company grows, but that is in store for the future. And the future looks bright; very bright indeed... Day 267, Year 2 --------------------- The Estate at Von Hill has just been constructed. Between the last time I wrote and now, Saul has secured a mountain in Hanseti. We have been granted land from the Hochmeister, so that we might work freely on our contraptions. Finally, we are getting back to buisness as usual... However, there is one thing that worries me journal... The strange noises in Hi-Security. Though I've been given clearance to enter Hi-Security, many levels are still out of my reach. What in the NETHER is Balthazzar working on down there, I wonder... Oh well. I'll find out someday. For now, time to get onto my research on plague! I am approaching a scientific breakthrough on actually DISCOVERING the main cause of the Plague! I believe, journal, that the main cause of the plague is not a curse from God, but is caused by unsanitary conditions and fleas! Kill the fleas, stop the plague in it's tracks! I've yet to prove the theory, but I'm working on it. Day 42, Year 3 -------------------- I write this entry at Castle Greywynn, Hanseti. Today Balthazzar's research finally got out of hand. While Saul and I were taking a new medical staff member on a tour of the facility, we heard a strange noise. We shivered unnaturally. I, Jonas, and Saul quickly hurried to the Security Armory, where we donned VonSchlichtenCo Security Suits. We then descended the lift into Hi-Security, for that is where the noise had originated. When we arrived down there, we slowly cracked open the door to Balthazzar's project. And then we saw them... Some people around Anthos say "There's no Iblees". But there is... right there, on that day, I saw them. Not the Iblanic Undead, that is, but still evil... Some refer to them as "Endermen", although we have named them "The Darkness" or "The Dark Ones" as their species. Anyways, we bravely defended ourselves after they burst through the door, and then hurled ourselves towards the lift. However, these were not your usual brainless Men of Ender! They were INTELLIGENT. They followed us when the lift came back down! THEN they teleported RIGHT THROUGH the Hi-Security door! THEN THEY BLOCKED OFF ACCESS TO THE SURFACE OF THE BASE! No Man of the Ender has every shown such intelligence as to trap their enemies! The staff, now in a panic, began to barricade hydroponics. I pointed out this would do no good, as the beings would simply use their void-teleportaiton methods to bypass the wall. That was when an idea began to formulate within my mind. "Jonas, get me a bucket," I asked. Jonas did so. I went over to our Automatic Carrot Harvester and filled the bucket with water. I then rushed back into the open hallway, and tossed the water on the demons, readying my saber once more. The plan worked perfectly. The creatures began shriveling, screeching in terror. The group and I seized the opportunity to escape in the lift to the surface. We then managed to send a bird out to the Hochmeister and his soldiers. After the military arrived to help us, along with the Great Wizard Ambros, we finally managed to escape to the Teutonic Fortress. We've now fended off the beings entirely, and have perserved many blocks of a strange substance they've left behind. We know of it as "Final Element"; for it is unlike any other substance we have ever seen. We should be safe... for now. Goodnight, Journal. Mandru Scott, over and out. *The Journal ends here. You yearn to hear more. You ask the librarian about the fate of Mandru Scott; what happened to him after the journal ends. The woman smiles.* "Mandru Scott...? Now THERE'S a story and man to remember through the ages. You hear so much about Orenite nobility who were only HALF the man Dr. Scott was, yet few hear the Chronicles of Mandru..." *She goes to a nearby bookshelf, and withdrawls another book. This time, however, it is in the form of a 1st Person Epic, NOT a journal. It reads: Mandru Scott and The Darkness Wars: An Epic about the Proconsul of Gallmore.* "It picks off where the journal ended, dear... Just continue reading." ((I will start to draft out Mandru Scott and the Darkness Wars this Saturday. Don't worry; this project is still active. If I left anything major out, please feel free to post any suggestions on additions to this thread!))