A Earthen Brown Leather Tome with Dwarven Runes and an Open-Palm Hand

[CrimsonMedicine]

Iyar 27th, IY 7789

Today, I learned a great deal about those who care for me. The day began slow, as they often do. Quiet moments of contemplation are spent inside the Hall, reading, writing, and painting. It wasn't until I heard folks begin to gather for board work that I emerged. It seems that people are beginning to look to me for enspellments, of which I am happy to provide. It helps pay the rent, and I can protect whatever manner of beast they are going to face.

Besides that, though, the 'care' I write about came in the form of words and actions. In particular, a new dwarf who arrived not too long ago at the Well, Olmon, said 'Love you'. I don't think he understood the intensity of such a statement to a Kulkund Dwarf, but he later made it seem more casual. I was definitely flustered at the time, though.

Another instance came in the form of physical affection. Raven, a 'Moon Elf', hugged me after receiving the blessings of Izzakhar. That's likely why, though. Most likely, gratitude for providing magic to aid in succeeding on one's task. I enjoy helping, and if coins, affection, and smiles are my rewards, that doesn't seem too bad.

I know my ancestors would disapprove of me, and my Ma and Pa would frown upon the man I have become am.

---

More battle, more war. The Rathgan's duties continue.

The Zrubrurzid.

What a name for a Clan. This time, Aurelio led the charge. To no ones surprise the raid went smoothly and efficiently. However, near the end of such a battle Ulfgrim charged ahead. A section of bridge leading to an area teeming with Orc'ah. I thought he wasn't going to make it, dread settling into my heart, but then the Void-callers beckoned dark thoughts manifested outwards, and in his fear, Ulfgrim ran to me. I was able to lay a healing hand upon him before he fell.

But, in those moments I worried for him. As I seem to always do.

---

I went home today.

An expedition to visit the places I could not usually go without grapple and rope. Many joined me; Norska, Kiran, Nela, Theo, Emmony, and of course the members of the Rathgan. We found a wayward camp for kin. I always wonder a melancholic thought when I enter into areas such as that.

How long has it been since this place heard the sounds of laughter? Who's footsteps am I walking in, and are they around to make more? How much history does this place hold?

Some of these questions are hard to answer, but they always fill my mind.

'Sing the song they seek to silence.'

That was written on the walls of the caves, the caves I used to crawl around as a beardling. I wonder if it's the song the Elder sings?

I should speak to him again; so much to learn.

I've run out of painting supplies, so it's another trip to the Souk on the morrow. For now...

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Iyar 28th, IY 7789

The island of Ait Tujum.

A beautiful place, despite the cursed aura that lingers in the air. A place of verdant forests and greenery. It seems that a new job on the board has opened up. Guess the Captain found a route and with it danger. So, the Pyramid posted a new contract. I was able to rally some folks: Serhiy, Cordelia, Cogsworth, Freya, and the Lonely Lieutenant Rennik.

It was wonderful. My working theory is Wyldwalkers experimenting with the aspects of rot. The island is coated in an aura of potent negative energy. Of course, with that comes the undead. Though where it is usually found in the form of humanoids, these were of bestial forms.

With the tome of Forbidden Numerology in my possession.

I now set my sights on other forms of dark magic. I think that with constant study, there may be a way to counteract them with positive energies to neutralize them out. There was an altar that required a bit of prayer to sanctify; however, in my haste to utter the words, I must have messed up, for the altar remained blighted.

I'll need to revisit these blighted isles to attempt a different prayer to cleanse the altar. It might bring a bit of peace to the Isles for a time and give me a better understanding of the dark.

---

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- Ait Tujum, the isles of blighted crimson.

---

The Sandstone still holds many secrets. I was able to wander around some of their more hidden quarters with Raven. Her eyes are more perceptive than mine are. We located some slacking students playing some sort of board game. What was most interesting, though, was a man named Deadhe, or Beadhe?, I don't quite recall.

He was acting odd and strange. I wanted to inquire if he was studying anything Esoteric, but he wouldn't tell me. Based on how far and distant he was from most of the faculty, I am in belief that he is studying something that would be of great interest to me. Raven suggested we find someone who has a pretty good knack for persuading others, or maybe a big beefy man who can intimidate him into telling me.

No, that's mean. I think I'll just look for someone with a softer and sweeter voice. Either way, it's interesting to me, and I feel the need to know. It feels like now that I have graduated from the Sandstone, I am getting closer and closer to what I wish to know.

To understand how to wield and control dark magic. For one to defend against the dark artes, one must know them, But one also must be careful not to be consumed by what one studies.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 2nd, IY 7789

A time where unions of love are formed.

That's what they say, at least, but I am unsure if it is true in times of war. I suppose connections and companions are found amidst the battle cries and clang of steel. If that is the case, then today is no different.

Tonight was a grand step for the Union of Kardesler. A historic moment. We shattered a hole in the walls of the Abulmahhu using the Kusatma. It cried out in power as the Stonefolk Tenth Legion sang to it. Our way was open, and what lay ahead? A massive fortress, larger than any we had scaled before.

Yet, we did not cower. I was afraid, of that I am certain, but I didn't let it hold me back. Being broken up into three groups to take down the fields. Ulfgrim, leader of the Rathgan, Aurelio, Balladeer of the Rose, and Rhuk Nor, Sergeant of the Jannisary.

We three teams took each our own path, left, right, and center. I cannot say for certain what the other paths encountered, but I believe that ours was the hardest. The Middle. We had to fight through a valley of Whisperers and break through a Molten, then it was up to us to claim the field and open the path for the other sides. Theo was in charge of the bombs; without him, we would have been stuck, separated from the others for who knows how long. I'm grateful to have such strong and stalwart warriors by my side.

I felt true fear during the next field. A large Titan, unlike the ones I have faced thus far. These were twisted, tormented, evil. A Titan of...night? Whatever the opposite of Dawning could be. It got worse when an Orc'ah knocked my crook from my hand, and I was separated from Izzakhars light for a time. Running around the field blind and useless. Faith found it and handed it to me amidst the chaos.

But in those moments, I was afraid again.

At the end of it all was a tree. A remnant of the Old World. The superiors in charge demanded we fire the Kusatma upon it. So, our Warmaster did as such. I don't understand why we did such a thing. To destroy an ancient piece of nature. What would the Silent Ones say? Probably nothing, but they seem to worship a tree.

I didn't feel good. Sure, we won against the Orc'ah, but why did we destroy the bones of the old world? Luther said they charge some sort of invisible barrier? I don't know how much of that is true. Some say that to make way for the new, the old must go. I don't feel good about that either.

It's something to ponder as we move ever closer to Bet Nappahi. The war reaches it's final hour. And whilst it isn't quite the witching hour, we draw ever closer.

---

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- The Ancient Faced Tree from the Old World, burned by the Kusatma.

What other beauties must we destroy to see ourselves victorious? What other options do we have? Peace? Mercy? Is that something that can still be given? Is that something we want to? Could I, after all the Orc'ah have done to my people? Perhaps only the Gods know.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 3rd, IY 7789

Today was a good day. Whilst not a lot happened, it was nice after the chaos and uncertainty that was yesterday.

I was able to take a few new folks on the relaxed work. It's a nice surprise that the Pyramid and whoever or whatever mysterious folks get the board jobs posted jobs that are a bit easier occasionally. Allows for newer folk to get into the swing of things. Plus, if I am healing them, it's a bit safer, too.

From there, I sat around. Relaxing. Pondering. I thought of painting, but the only thing on my mind was that strange Titan, Titan of Dusk? Titan of Noon? and I had already painted the tree that was burned. It still weighs upon me. This guilt. The weight of watching history, ancient, be washed away in fire. Like scripture turn asunder never to be known or read again, such knowledge lost and scattered to the wind. To Ash.

Aided the Accord with Cort, Theo, Freya, Evanderall, and Selwyn. It went quite smoothly. We all work quite well together. Theo and Cort are in the front. Freya was doing her spinning maneuvers. Evanderall shoots the casters from afar. With Selwyn and I on support. Still nothing for a Speaker, though. It's fine. We children of stone are a patient sort.

---

Whilst I had already participated in the boardwork, we, being a large mass of folk. Katya, Evanderall, Theo, Selwyn, Cort, Nessia, Rodor, Emmony, Faith, Maqqari, and a new Awoken, Garen. They all went on the job to aid Frostport. Hopefully, now the Drakes won't be too much of a problem for the explorers and citizens of Frostport.

I remained behind, gathering milk from Halfdan. Buying it, mind you, not... never mind. There was a halfling that was craving it, so I think a soft and caring gesture might be something I'd want to try. I know my ancestors will roll around in their grave, but times change.

---

Ulfgrim and I chatted. We have a plan. Something big for the War. Something significant for the Rathgan too. Something that the Rathgan can aid with that has the potential to be a monumental turning point for the battle against the Orc'ah and Iakmes himself. I just need to find a way to meet with the Warmaster, or with the Legates themselves and arrange a meeting. We can't go offering things we don't have permission to.

Big things are in store. An end to not only one war, but one that has raged on for eight centuries may be in its closing moments. One can only hope. Maybe this age is the one where Kin, Cousins, and Clan bonds are reforged again.

Will I have the resolve to see this through?

Just maybe. A dwarf can only hope. Either way, the folks are coming back from the caves, and the cold is quite chilly. Time to head back to the Well.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 5th, IY 7789

Today was the day we went to Ait Tujum on an expeditionary effort.

I went with Nessia, Maqqari, Tharrik, Ulfgrim, Theo, and Faith to the Isles of Ait Tujum. It was Nessia's idea to study and map the islands. I had already been there, but perhaps it would be interesting to see other people's perspectives. Plus, it's always nice to hang out with friends.

Theo does a good job at keeping the mood positive, always cracking jokes and silly puns. We got to exploring, and I was able to name the entry landing. 'Ziggurat Cove'. It's got a nice ring to it, and seeing it, it makes sense. What with all the Ziggurats right by the dock.

I am beginning to have my theories about the island. The old and dead trees seem to have new trees growing from them. It is as if the Necromantic energies on the island are focused on nature. I've witnessed the Isle's coastlines host a Dark Wyldwalker. One who is potentially using the remains of what used to be here on the island to feed nature again. Perhaps in an unnatural way. There are bones and bodies scattered about the isle, perhaps these are a source of power?

There are large skeletal draconic remains further in the heart of the isle. It would be a potent energy source for all kinds of magical rituals.

---

Do people think I'd make a good Magistrate?

It was asked of me whether I would be willing to have my name put forth for such a role. The weight of justice is no light thing. It is one matter to uphold laws, another to be the arbiter of their execution. Dolling out punishments, ensuring fairness. It is a heavy burden.

Would I be just? Would I be fair? I would try, at the very least. It is a duty that demands not only knowledge but wisdom, and I have seen both just rulers and tyrants wear the same robes of authority. If I am to accept this, I must ensure I am never the latter.

---

Last night, I dreamt of Ulfgrim.

We stood in the halls of an ancient forge, the glow of molten metal casting warm light upon stone walls lined with runes. He was working, hammering away at something I could not see, but I felt the reverberation of each strike deep within my chest.

The rhythm of his work was steady, comforting. I stepped closer, but he did not turn. Not until I reached out, and then he looked at me, his eye reflecting the firelight. There was something unspoken there, something neither of us dared to name, yet it lingered in the air between us, hot as the forge's breath.

I woke before I could say anything. Perhaps it is for the best. Some things are easier left to dreams.

It is Hziran after all, yet I must remain focused. There is so much still to do. For Kin and for the future.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 6th, IY 7789

I awoke in the Hall this morning. Sitting up and looking around, I realized something. We have no windows. Without the braziers, the Hall would be shrouded in darkness. Then I think of home, Kulkund. My mind drifts to the deepest and darkest parts of home. That of Deep Kulkund. How dark it must have been, how frightening, how scary the dark can be. Especially when you are not alone in it.

It's why we're doing what we are doing. We were able to speak to the Warmaster and the White Legate. They seem on board with our goal. Now we need to think of a suitable gift to exchange. Is it dinar? How much dinar? One thousand? Is that too little? Ten thousand? Is that too little as well? How much is too much, or how much is too little? What of an object? A weapon? A material?

What would the Deep Dwarves want that we can provide?

---

I was able to return to Ait Tujum for contract work. Allowing me to go deeper into the island than usual. I returned to the altar, determined to make it work. I tried the verses of Salhin, I tried whispering praise to Kula, and both of those have failed. I believe that in appeasing the shrine the negative energy that flows through the roots and leaves of the forest will abate. If only a bit.

My studies in the School of Necromancy and its weaknesses continue. This will be an important discovery, similar to the counter-song that Cordelia sang to slow and cease the necromantic chanting when we assaulted a fort controlled by Yr'kel. My hope is that a certain prayer, an abjurative script, can be used to aid in removing the dark aura entirely.

We'll see. I had to cut through swathes of undead beasts just to reach it.

---

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- The Warrior, Ulfgrim, at rest.

My painting supplies have been restocked. Which is good because it has been a while since I made anything. Felt good to create again. This one took some time, I wanted to get the proportions right. Dedicated the work to a close friend of mine. To kin.

We'll see what tomorrow brings. Perhaps more painting inspiration? Until then.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 7th, IY 7789

Politics, I'm not the biggest fan of politics, but one does what they must. I spoke about the need to meet with Legate Vellyn regarding an import matter to Rathgan. While I waited, I wandered the Well. During my wanderings, I stumbled into a Dwarf who had arrived from the sands. Yorin, an older gentleman who is quite the fighter, it seems.

Spent a good portion of the day with him, getting to know him, and outfitting him for his work. Brought him around the Hall and he found an axe that was of use to him. Told him a bit about the Rathgans goals to reclaim our home, in turn potentially granting him one whilst we are here. To fight in the war, and bring victory against our enemy, the Orc'ah.

I can tell he's a good man. It's why I told him to meet with the rest of the Rathgan. He likely has my vote to join us, should he wish for it. Let's hope he remains in the Well long enough to be accepted into it. Dwarfs seem to come and go. I've always wondered, though, if they don't stay here in the Well, where else do they go?

---

The Kolgrer Da Clan.

Dead now. During the raid, they seemed to have some sort of large, bronze-like creatures. People were shouting that they were the ones that took a woman by the name of Greta. Killing her on some kind of mission. They are somehow related to the dog-like bronze creatures that breathe flames.

The battle was fierce. Fire and steel clashed as we stormed their fort, the air thick with the scent of burning wood and scorched flesh. The Orc'ah fought like cornered beasts, but our discipline and resolve carried the day. The bronze creatures, whatever they were, proved to be a terrible force, breathing fire upon our ranks.

It's always a hard stench to remove from one's nose. Thankfully, I always seem to get lucky and find the Royal Favour Flowers. What a pleasant smell.

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- The Bronze Monstrosity.

Another victory for the Well. Another fort was taken over and cleansed of the Orc'ah.

---

Overall, it's been a good day. A bit of boardwork. Warred upon the fields of the Scald. Met new Kin who has the potential to become Rathgan. Meetings proceed with Legates. Talks and rumors of a Magistrate position. Things have still been on the positive side.

Though, Izzakhar would state that one must be ready for the truth, that with good so to comes bad. I prepare myself for it, but for now, rest calls to me. Ulfgrim snores so loud though, maybe I'll give him a shove before I too fall asleep.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 8th, IY 7789

Defeat.

The call for a grand raid echoed through the Well, and we answered. Another wall, as formidable as that of Abulmahhu, rose before us, another challenge, another test of our will to win. To beat the Orc'ah. The Kusatma roared to life, its fire a beacon of our intent, and thus began the battle. I still can't get over how loud the scream of it is.

But war does not bend to intent alone. The weight of siege demands many hands, and ours were too few. The gears turned slow, the ranks too thin. The tide of the Orc'ah was unrelenting, and as the battle stretched onward, it became clear that victory was slipping from our grasp. One by one, we were whittled down, some slain, some scattered, all tested. In the end, the order to withdraw was given, and so we yielded the field.

Defeat.

A bitter thing to some, a revelation to others. For me, it is but the confirmation of what I already suspected. The numbers did not favor us; we needed more, and we needed to be more prepared for such a raid. And yet, knowing does not lessen the weight of failure. I do not mourn my own pride, for pride is not my concern. I mourn those who sustain wounds at the pride of others.

Yorin, Aurelio, Tharrik, Shum, Catalina, Tacitha, so many were hurt in the battles. It will take a bit of time before the Well is back to it's full strength.

---

Yorin.

He is a promising Dwarf, one we seek to bring into the Rathgan. There is heart in him, a fire that does not wane even in the face of defeat. More than that, he understands what many warriors fail to grasp, that strength is not only in the strike of a hammer or the edge of a blade but in standing guard over those who cannot do so for themselves. He shields those without armor, the ones who work in the shadows of battle, ensuring they may do their part.

He shields me.

It is a rare trait and a valuable one. Given time, as he settles into his place, as he learns and grows, I have little doubt that he will become a warrior of great renown. The Rathgan would be fortunate to have him. And in truth, it is warriors such as he that shall see us through the long war ahead.

But I do not leave the Rathgan behind. Nor do I abandon those who remain, those who still have the will to fight.

'One battle lost is not the end of war.' - Ulfgrim Grimgarson

The Orc'ah have won this day, but the days ahead belong to those who endure.

---

I found something. Something interesting. Something that belongs to the dark. It came from the Scald, a piece of armor that looks as though there are pieces of it still missing. Not that it matters though. Speakers of the gods cannot wield such armors. Besides, I watched her pick it up before I could claim it and study it further. In those moments, though, I recorded the writings upon it.

"We are the children of the deep; Birthed dreary deep and far from sight, In the darkness we find restless sleep, Now do we enter into the Age of Night." - Unknown.

Still, I must know more. What is the Age of Night?

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 10th, IY 7789

As I sit here under the hateful gaze of Pra'raj with my back resting against a wall. I am given time to think. Coincidentally, a group of board-workers found me as I walked the sands and asked of my aid. Of course, knowing most of them, and their positive and kind words, I walked with them to provide aid in their tasks. They took two jobs at once. I commend them for their work effort.

I think of those who have stood beside me thus far. The Rathgan. The Legion of the Last Dwarves who fight for home. Yorin has officially joined us as a brother, taking the Oath and etching his name into the stone altar. Tharrik, calling forth his familiar. That of a beautiful crow. Arn, I believe it's name was. Ulfgrim, I'll always remember his gentle smile. The soft trace of an upturn to his usual frown. He turned to me as I spoke to him, asking if he was happy. The man deserves just a trace of it, with all that he has been through. He told me that for once, in a long time, he was feeling hopeful.

Slowly, but surely, we build ourselves up. Build ourselves into something that might be able to make a difference. I think there is a saying about that, more hands make the work take less time. I should find a way to make that sound fancier.

[He, in fact, did find a way to make that sound fancier.]

'As a lone chisel dulls against the stone, so too does solitary toil wear a craftsman's spirit. But with many hands, the carving is swift, the burden light, and the mountain yields its form to those who shape it together.'

---

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- Arn, Tharrik's familiar perched upon his arm.

---

[A uncharacteristically shaky hand writes the following.]

I had a nightmare last night.

Usually, they do not bother me, but this one lingered.

The fields of the Scald stretched endlessly, scorched and broken, the land itself bearing the wounds of war. I can remember it clearly. The air is thick with the stench of blood and burnt steel, and in the dim light of dawn, the bodies of the fallen cast long shadows across the ruined earth. I stand amongst them, friends, allies, close companions, lovers, my boots sinking into the sand and blood, an unusual banner of sorts lies broken. Dwarven, one I imagine is meant to signify us, the Rathgan.

Ulfgrim was the first to fall, his shield split, his axe buried in the skull of an orc even as another spear takes him from behind. Tharrik follows, a bolt loosed from his crossbow before a jagged blade opens his throat. Yorin, the newest, fights the longest, his shield battered, his breaths ragged, but he too is swallowed by the tide of green and black. One by one, they are gone, and I'm alone.

I could feel them. The words came unbidden, ancient and wrong, spoken in a tongue that tastes of dust and grave soil. The wind howls as bones began to stir, as flesh reforms, as hollow eyes flickered with a light that was not life. The Rathgan stand again, but they do not breathe, and in their gaze, they see only hunger.

Hunger for the end of the Orc'ah.

Then I woke up. They breathe beside me, their gazes warm and caring. They're still alive.

They're still alive.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 11th, IY 7789

A busy day of boardwork, yet one to remember.

I started with the easiest, after having some morning tea and stonebread made by the kind Stonefolk outside the Hall, I set off to deal with the undead out in the Canyons. Denain was with us, which was good. I believe he is an Oathbound of the Shepherds. The Maqam at the end was once devoted to the Martyrs but had been desecrated by what appeared to be Sibilant. I was able to cleanse the altar in the midst of the graveyard, so here's hoping that the dead will abate in a bit of time.

Then, we aided the Accord to the south. The Orc'ah always seeks to push against us here in the Well, and not just in the Scald. It was a bit rougher than I expected, especially being the only one who was capable of casting magic. Robert was there to lessen the load a bit, and that certainly helped. However, one of the Orc'ah Champions turned to me, using his head, and seeing that I was keeping people standing, swung at me. If not for my allies' quick intervention, I might have perished. It was Ulfgrim who leapt to me, tending my wounds with a potent trinket of his.

That man...I swear. He saved my life.

Then to Ait Tujum to cleanse yet another altar. Even upon cleansing it a dark aura attempts to settle in on one's soul. But we dealt with more Rotted Wyldwalkers. They're summoning can be quite a handful at times. I also don't recommend drinking a vial in these swarms if you aren't wearing any armor. Like me. They'll remind you of that, even if it is a vial to turn invisible.

Lastly, I go to another sacred place. The Valley of Black Ichor. Quite aptly named for the necrotic ooze that permeates the sands surrounding it. We fought through Gnolls up to the peak where I was able to tend the sapling. It bestowed upon me a leaf. A gift for the gentle prayers of wisdom I offered it in Izzakhar's name.

---

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- The Leaf of Life that gifted to me today.

Seems capable of inspiring folks to heroics and calling forth a powerful gust of wind. Should be useful in the coming battles. There is a slight purple discoloration, either due to the Ichor, or something else entirely atop the peaks.

---

The Ragnugna.

Yet another clan culled by the Ephians. It began with defending the camp from the Orc'ah. I fear my dream nightmare came true, at least in some way. During the battle, Yorin, our newest, took a wound almost instantly. Caught within the Orc'ah's grease magic, a dark star circle, and struck in some vital areas. He isn't dead, thank the Wheel, but he will be feeling that wound for a while. I'll be beside him tonight, tending his wound as I would Ulfgrim's or Tharrik's.

I need to do better. To be faster. To heal more. To prevent things like this. I must lead better.

Then, it was on to their citadel. Another fort was razed for the Union of Kardesler. The Rathgan are strong when we're together. Yorin joined us but, understandably, kept to the back at my request. We've all become a well-oiled machine, and no one was hurt during this raid. A much-needed win after the loss upon the great walls that bar us from Bet Nappahi.

Who knows what dark and forbidden knowledge awaits. What secrets of magic and lore have been kept hidden for so long? I must know. I must safeguard it.

I know you're watching over me.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 13th, IY 7789

The Blood Moon.

Another clan removed, one less of the thousand. The days begin to blur together as of late. War, boardwork, repeat, war, boardwork, repeat. The moments of respite that come in between have been a blessing. They are small but impactful enough for me to wish to record them in remembrance.

I've been meeting plenty of new faces. Fresh arrivals to the Well. An Oathbound of the Shepherds, Kali and Gali. A brief interaction with a pugilist. A Stonefolk man interested in trade and accumulating wealth, of what exactly? I do not know. History or Dinar, one of the two.

The gift of tea from the kind Dora. Even as I sit here now, writing away in the Hall, I sip upon the finely made drink. Freshly warmed from the hearth and with a bit of the milk from Frostport. It is simply divine for winding down after the day's work. Turns out she also makes interesting creations as well. Some trinket capable of rendering one to sleep. I seek to test it out upon the Dalzoc in time.

---

Nela held a sermon to Kula. We walked onto the High Road and were bestowed holy waters to water the small bits of verdance that had emerged in the sands. I walked, led by an Ash Crow towards a small plant trying its best to grow. Kneeling down, I prayed, just as I did to the sapling atop the peaks of the Black Ichor valley.

"Watch over the Rathgan as the storm gathers. Let not famine touch their tables, nor fire their fields. May their hands remain strong, their spirits unbroken, and their harvests sure.

Let Tharrik stand firm, Yorin walk steady, and Ulfgrim find his path unshadowed. Grant him the strength of lions, the kinship of wolves, and the wisdom to endure.

If the winds must howl and the earth must tremble, let us weather it together, as stone does the river's tide.

So I pray, and so I hope."

Though, the trials of the Wyld are so seldom gentle. After the prayer Trolls attacked, but we took them out and were rewarded with a holy plate. A sign that the Wheel is watching. They are always watching.

---

I think I need another hobby. I can craft wands and potions and even scribe scrolls in Izzakhar's name. However, I seek more creativity. It has been found in the way of alchemical inventions. Robert and Dora have inspired me to seek new things.

As such, I am eager to find a mentor and tutor in the ways of combining reagants to make things of use. Such as tea, but also unknown things. Mainly for my research purposes, like things involving the planes of positive and negative energies. However, I am sure there are dangers to such that I must be made aware of. Hence the need for a tutor.

---

I performed back surgery today. That also happened. El'vel is a good man, and he deserves to be able to stand up straight. I am glad to have been able to help him. A mixture of divine blessings and practical medical skills. It was risky, but thankfully, it was a success.

Ulfgrim wants to set about to our work for the rest of the day, so I'll see to that. Can hardly say no when he asks me.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 14th, IY 7789

I have begun the daunting and almost overwhelming task of delving into Alchemical research. It has been quite entertaining, fun, and rewarding. However, it is quite time-consuming. I have even begun keeping track of the complex combinations that each ingredient may provide to create a result. My notes are a bit out of sorts, but as I progress, my notes become more organized.

One exciting result was a wand, whilst usually they are very expensive to make, this one was not as much. A Rod of Shadowrays. It is quite useful, and perhaps I can even begin to sell it. Releasing negative energy towards targets. Useful for those on the backline who don't normally have a way of fighting. Like me.

I've learned that each alchemist has a theme of sorts, or an area of expertise. I seem to enjoy the Shadow Alchemies. Positive Alchemy is a bit rare, as the crystals required for such are not as common. However, the Orc'ah seem to horde the Shadowstones within their citadels and fortresses. This is perfect for my research into what they can create and do.

---

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- The setting Demon after War.

---

The Infernal Brawlers.

Another name to add to the list.

Whilst I should celebrate, I am overcome with worry. I know what tomorrow brings. I won't be able to attend, there are things in Izzakhar's name that I must do elsewhere. Creations and inventions, sacred prayers of knowledge call to me. I must answer. By the time I return, the battles may already be over. So I'll have to spend my time in the camp. Tending the wounded who return.

All I can think of is the Rathgan coming back on a stretcher. While I think of all those whom I might be able to help in the battles, I worry mostly about my brotherhood. Ulfgrim tends to run ahead with little care. I wish he listened to calls and didn't charge in all by himself. Tharrik is good, he should be okay. The only worry I have for him is a Whisperer sneaking past and plunging their spear into him. Yorin is new, I fear he will seek to prove himself in this battle or won't know his own limits.

Ulfgrim has always been reckless, but that recklessness is what makes him who he is, it's one among many of the reasons I lo like him. He fights with the fury of a storm, unstoppable and wild, yet that same fury blinds him to the dangers around him. He does not hesitate and does not falter, and that is what I admire about him. But I fear it will be his undoing. He is not invincible, no matter how much he believes otherwise. He laughs in the face of death, but I do not. If he falls, there will be no laughter, only silence, and I do not know if I am ready to bear that.

I'll keep them in my prayers this night and during my own trials. Not only them, but all those who walk to push further into the Abulmahhu.

I suppose we will see what tomorrow brings.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 16th, IY 7789

I have finally returned from my travels. The Sands hold many secrets and whispers to those who are willing to look and listen to them. It gave me time to process things that have occurred over the past few days as well as ponder the words and wisdom of Izzakhar.

For starters, murder, assassinations, death, war, and wounds. They have all been lingering on my mind as my pilgrimage has taken my away from where I would have originally wanted to be. By the Rathgans side as we waged war against the Orc'ah. Striking a deliberate blow against the Walls of Abulmahhu as we pushed forward. To Bet Nappahi.

---

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- The Desert Oasis and Obelisk found upon my Pilgrimage.

---

Inanna. Dead.

Supposedly killed by Rowan. I admit I don't know the man all that well, but he did say a few strange things when we visited the Astral Plane. Yes, that happened too. He mentioned "You're welcome for joining us." 'Us'? It was just him out there on the Giant's road. Him and the strange lights. Although, Rowan has been exiled. He was given an 'olive branch' to return and face trial, to not attend would solidify his guilt in the eyes of the law. I suppose we shall see what comes of this. I know now the streets are not safe.

Then when I was joining Ritz and the other Astronomers in showing them the sight. Was I, a healer then called to the Garrison.

I gasped when I saw her. Inanna. She was just laying there, as if sleeping, but...not at the same time. I didn't know the lass all that well, but death is different when it happens so close to your home. I know how close she was with Vellyn. By one you don't expect. An enemy inside the Well, instead of outside of it. I kept imagining it was one of my own. My Rathgan. Their faces staring back at me, cold, empty, lifeless.

I said a prayer for her. Whilst she was a B'aarat, I gave her what solace and comfort I could as a Priest of Izzakhar.

Rest well, Omenmancer.

---

I had heard about the assault upon the walls. As I predicted, Ulfgrim was injured. I knew he would be, and whilst I was travelling I had dreams, that were more akin to nightmares, of him being harmed. So when I returned, seeing him bandaged, I frowned. The coming nights will be tending his wounds before he rests. Changing and dressing his bandages. Another scar added to the tapestry of wounds and injuries he already has.

Each one tells a story. A step in front of an axe to save the Flamebringer. A cut drawn in skin to shield the Doomed-Oath from a strike. Fangs from when he was younger, hunting Lions with his father. Each one a memory, an experience. Whilst they are painful to behold, their stories are beautiful.

I just fear which story will bring about his end... [The quill lingers here for a time, a large black blot as the ink drips.]

For now, more alchemical research. I search around for Shadowstones as my area of specialty demands. Perhaps for the time being, blood alchemy shall suffice. A frightening name, yes, but not a frightening art.

I create in Izzakhars name.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 17th IY 7789

Writing in my diary during the middle of the day was a mistake yesterday. Most un-wise of me. So many wonderful, and insane things happened.

I never wrote about the journeys into the Astral Plane. After defeating some strange fallen meteor we were pulled into a strange realm, of which I know now what it is. There were many doors and portals around this pyramid-esque structure. A voice found us, speaking through El'vel, and told us to be quiet. This being saved us, just a bit after the floating fish attacked us.

Then a strange tower with aberrant-like hallways leading to pillars. They potentially formed some kind of constellation when a button was pushed, but I'm not too sure. I'm still taking lessons from El'vel about the stars. I think his back is healing up nicely now, so that's a plus. I saw many interesting sights, one of which included a shadowy figure of what looked to be an Astronomer.

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- The Astral Whale.

Maybe what is happening to Hashem is related to this. I hope he's alright. I tried my best to heal and help him, but the Tower seemed intent on handling it themselves. I just want my friend to be okay.

---

Luther was called on Trial at the Hall of Jurisprudence. I was a bit late as I was getting ready to turn in for the evening. However, my curiosity led me to spectate. When I entered, half of the room was Banda Rossa. I saw faces that I had not seen in a long time, and most of them I did not even recognize.

Vellyn was sitting as Judge and Witness to his crimes. She states that he was the one who orchestrated the assassination by hiring Rowan to kill Inanna. That is quite an accusation. Now, I am not the biggest fan of Luther. He would do almost anything for gold and to further himself, but I don't see what is in it for him to kill Inanna. Who would want her dead?

An opposing party perhaps? Or maybe it was Luther, removing the 'un-pure' elves from this Disc so he could replicate his 'Peerage'. Whatever that is. All I know now is that he is exiled. If I was Vellyn, I would be mad too, however, evidence is important. I hope that she is able to find it. Luther's exile will be removed when he brings Rowan to the Legate for his punishment. Who knows when that will be. Wyldwalkers are hard to find at the best of times.

If anything, it means we won't have any artillery for a time. Which, isn't the worst thing when dealing with the fortresses around the Wall. But, when an attack is on the Abulmahhu, we will want the artillery firing.

---

More progress with the Rathgan.

I delivered the Rathgan's charter to Haknar. He said he would bring it to deliberate with the Legates and the fellow Scribes. Supposedly an official guild that is recognized will receive some kind of allotment. It would help in fueling our front liner's blur requirements. That's for sure.

Klaus, another of our kin, is interested in becoming a Rathgan. I've taken the time to get to know him. At first, I thought he was only interested in dinar, and mining. Now I have learned that he seeks more than that. Kinship, brotherhood, a home, purpose. He will find all of those things here with us. When the time comes, I will vote 'yes'.

Things with the others are going wonderfully. Yorin is slowly amassing strength, the rust of his time away from battle is wearing off. Tharrik and I have been hanging out more and more, which is great. We've begun poking around alchemy together, and I was able to show him Blood Alchemy. Though, my interest still lies in Shadows, Blood is a great starter theme for research. However, I did have a rather disastrous notation mistake with my alchemical recipes, meaning all my failed experiments are in need of redo. However, it's good to find these mistakes two days in, rather than two weeks.

Ulfgrim...Ulfgrim keeps giving me flowers. Not just any flowers, but Royal Favour Flowers. Some say this is a sign of romance, others say it is a way of wishing luck upon another. I see it as both, or at least I hope it is both. It is still Hziran. A time where unions of love are formed. I've been wearing the flowers upon my cloak to show my support in receiving them. I intend to ask him though, when next I've the chance; why do you keep giving me these flowers?

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- A Royal Favour Flower.

Perhaps it is best not to think too hard about why, and just enjoy that it is happening. So, I shall do so, stepping forward with research, creation, invention, and craftsmanship. As Izzakhar requests of me.

The future yet awaits.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 19th IY 7789

The days roll on by.

It feels as though they are getting shorter. Tammuz will be here sooner than I expected. 'The month in which lovers shed their tears'. I do not look forward to this month, for even its name spells doom for those I care for. Those I love. Especially in these times of War with the Orc'ah. How much will I lose? One, two, all of them, everything?

It's daunting to think about. Instead, I focus on the good things, pushing the dark thoughts to the back of my mind and letting them ruminate there. There are many kinds of love. The ones most often thought of is romance and passion. The kind that lovers share in those quiet and intimate moments. The love of friendships, I share this among many of the Rathgan. The love that Vellyn and Innana shared. The love of long-term things, like my want and care of knowledge.

Yet, I always think back to my Ma and Pa. The love they shared with each other. It wasn't perfect, as all things can be broken. Yet, they made it work. Caring, holding, and nurturing one another. Perhaps it is something I long for too.

Hziran. A time where unions of love are formed.

I'm just not sure what kind of love I have for you yet.

---

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- Kanthrak Dûngir, High Inquisitor of Kulkund.

Muzgâl ana khuzd ai-zanrâl nadûn, anâkh khamzâram, fû Shathûr zâramul, ai-mâkh thalûkh-thrâd nuzgedhîl.

Hide

The World to him, who sings my song, for I am the Font, the Spirit of the Deepest Deep, and mine is the first heart to beat your Blood.

[close]

I miss you, Pa.

---

The Zogh Chirrukh.

The Rageroar.

The banners of the Zogh Chirrukh and the Rageroar, have been torn from their makeshift spires, their war drums silenced. Another fierce battle that only brings us ever closer to the end of this War. The Orc'ah possess many alchemical materials. Those of darkness, Shadowstones, black as ink and cold as the void.

I understand that knowledge itself is neither righteous or corrupt. It is the wielder's hand that shapes its course. So, in Izzakhar's light, I shall tread carefully, discerning what secrets may be unravelled.

All this to say, that my alchemical training and studying is beginning to bear fruit. With it, more hands begin searching for these reagents for me. It is always helpful when you have others working alongside you, together, as a community. Something the Elder has forgotten. That there is strength in this unity. Just today, Remi, came to me with supplies taken from an Orc'ah watchtower. Helpful, even if it did lighten my coin purse a bit.

Though, perhaps the Elder would call me 'fool'. For it may be only a matter of time before the smiles turn to scowls, and the knife is driven into my back for the kindness shown to outsiders.

Either way, I will be me. And I will have to be good enough. Not just for me, but for all those I care for. For the Rathgan. For my friends. For Izzakhar.

Wisdom, light my way.