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In-character Forums => Journals and Musings => Topic started by: Ephel on January 17, 2025, 02:18:54 AM

Title: A ciphered, black leather journal
Post by: Ephel on January 17, 2025, 02:18:54 AM
I have discarded my previous journal. Reviewing it found little need in keeping those tear watered pages. What is important will remain sacred memory. The 41st is behind me. The whimpering girl is dead. With her death, the hardest part is over.

Their corpses form a path. Water will be abundant in that place.

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From where I sit, scrawling at these papers, I can see the astronomer's observatory. Supposedly they glean some meaning from the way the heavens move. I won't grudge them their vices. How could they know that all the stars are fake? And why should I inform them? Most importantly: will they take me in if I play the part?

Their foolishness is not unlike my own. Remember the shores of sacrifice.

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Bless them for thinking me so naive. What a perverse thrill it is to pretend.

But just as I put down my roots, I discover the early warning signs of a plague. This city is not prepared. No stockpiles, no containment measures. The priory focuses on their intrigues and the astronomers sit on their hands. A democracy. A shining beacon on a hill. And not even a mention of the approaching horror in their bellows during this "election". Fools.

Be ready.


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Thesis Query #1

Do Djinni lie like I do?


Thesis Query #2

Why not just graverob the depths?


Thesis Query #3

What can be recovered from the shores of sacrifice?


Thesis Query #4

Magic and the altered self.


Thesis Query #5

Deity Killing Spell


Thesis Query #6

Apothar E/A personal assassin

Title: Re: A ciphered, black leather journal
Post by: Ephel on January 22, 2025, 03:02:33 PM
In the end I could not flee. My pessimistic shell could not shield me. What a failure I am. Melting in one moment of validation.

The starbeast, whatever became of it, or whatever Apother L. made of it; It still rattles inside my head. Pain echoes in a rhythmic thrum. At least it seems to be slowly receding. Meanwhile the finger I broke has been splinted. I'm warned that it may heal crooked. Another lifelong reminder of black horror. I'm glad I had the forethought not to damage my writing hand.

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Scratch Thesis Query #1. Anything dealing with Djinni is not just anathema, it's practically gauche. No need for such risk. That war priest is more than enough evidence of what could happen. And sometimes it's too hard to have faith in myself.

Scratch Thesis Query #2. Has little interest outside of a "cover thesis".

Shelve Thesis Query #3. The snake that can not shed it's skin dies.

Thesis Query #4 seems to be the most promising out of the batch.

Shelve Thesis Query #5. Maybe if I'm a Zenithar some day.

Thesis Query #6 is a scratch. Apothar E/A tried to point a finger at Nadiri D. and insinuate something dire. She treats her pawns like toys. Unacceptable.

Why do this?

I wonder if Nadiri D. understands the united front I tried to present. It seems like none of them did. Another lesson. I will have to bear the wrath of E/A alone, should it ever find me.

Thesis Query #7

Nadiri T. suggested something a bit more abstract. I should consider it out of respect. (Remind him he needs to pay back complaint gnome.)

What is the source of elemental energies that fuel arcane magics?

Title: Re: A ciphered, black leather journal
Post by: Ephel on January 29, 2025, 02:58:07 AM
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Thesis Query #8

Duo-Autonomous Personhood

Subtitle: They Live Among Us.


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There were tears on my pillow again. They couldn't be mine. I hate her so much.
Title: Re: A ciphered, black leather journal
Post by: Ephel on January 31, 2025, 12:02:31 PM
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In robes of blue, I sought the djinn's sweet flame,
To claim their power, rise and carve my name.
I knew the cost, the price that brooking asked,
Yet saw it clear—no evil task unmasked.

But standing near, a Janissary in green,
With laughter bright, a warmth I'd never seen,
He said, "Beware, for brooking leads to chains,
A binding curse that twists the heart in vain."

His words were firm, yet soft with playful grace,
A soldier who saw darkness in my face.
His humor held me, yet it made me pause—
For in his eyes, I saw the weight of cause.

With a chuckle, he turned, his back to go,
And I, in silence, felt my heart below.
For though I'd craved the power, sharp and pure,
His warmth and wit made all my doubt endure.

And so, my heart was brooked, though not by power—
But by the soldier who made my soul flower.