Author Topic: My days as a shambler. [Inavyre Vorathil]  (Read 175 times)

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Whyleth

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on: May 08, 2022, 04:43:03 PM
Day 0:
I return from the mountain with no victory to show for it, my companions now stand at four lesser. In my own fear I have been gravely injured as well, my body ravaged, yet I stand.
It is what I glean humans call ‘survivors guilt.’ The wish of wanting to have died as well only to carry on, but not truly. I shall do as Imogen says, place one foot in front of the other… May I do this til I feel mortal once more.

[There is some crossed out dribble about one trying to absolve her of sins and she is better off without her companions. Some curses are still legible in places ink did not cover.]

I am yet to see if the direction I wish to take form pays fruit, till then I am left without means or direction. So you do not forget your shames:
- A home of your kin is not worth reviving, having seen it with your own eyes. There is nothing left to save. May you learn from her trials and their shame and keep it dead and buried. I am sorry to forsake your calling like so L’sistê.
- Never again shall you seek an audience with those you were once akin to. They who will not be named should not get his deeds done at all costs. The fact you even considered such… may it bring you shame.
- Your companions died on that mountain, Gaetana and Rajani of the Skratti, Portland Roberts of House Velstra and Wesley Madoc once of House Moonspear. As awoken your memories sparse, so little to fill your trances with. I hope this… [Some more illegible words written over and scratched out again by ink.] haunts you so long as you walk this ground.


Remember thusly:
- Take care of Solomyn, Anadriel, Isaiah and Imogen. Do not fail them also.
- Keep your promise to Isaiah. Remember the wishes of not only Wesley, but Aldstan too.. If you cannot, make sure Reinald succeeds.
- Fear will get you killed… seek patience even in fear.
« Last Edit: May 08, 2022, 04:52:43 PM by Whyleth »



Whyleth

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on: May 11, 2022, 11:35:34 AM
Day 3:
Construct felled, after it rampaged through the town, the one formerly known as Marcel.I wonder if they would still be alive if this only happened a few days earlier. Too late for that.

Things are mixed with melancholy.

I borderline on the opinion that I am either truly cursed by L’sistê’s will. I feel mayhaps in my attempts to venture into human whims that she has deemed me unworthy and has cursed my fate to what it is now. I have no other reason to suspect as such.
The day we ventured, the fortunes of one ‘Queen of Cups.’ To care for one's needs and emotions, only to then send those to their deaths.
The fortunes of others are drawn, clear and bright. But mine… seem in reverse. No.. that is not true either. Just cursed.

[There are a few ink spots on this page in this area, as if one distracted by something, and another quick test again.]


… Queen of Cups again. Truly, you are the Queen of Cups.
A friend reminded me of such, ‘To give light, one must endure burning.’ It felt so much to home, like I had forgotten it. But then I am reminded:
How can one of water, burn?

I have taken to teaching others games of fate, in the form of ‘The roll of death.’ T’is a game I played with him, now it is a game I play with others. Seven times played, seven times dead.
This is how I curse others… maybe. Do I?
I wish not.



Whyleth

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on: May 14, 2022, 02:46:05 AM
Day 6:
On the morrow of looking at my cursed demise, I now have one life and seven deaths. But that is not of import. Words of fellow fair folk working for the Patriarch is what is of my concern. I have warned Anadriel as such: be seen, stay seen, do not go alone.
I shall as I wish to remind myself, seek patience and stay put in my fear, tis easy to point fingers.


We have taken to hiring the aid of Sava to replenish members for heading Kingsward once more. He confuses me so, at face… only a man of coin. But yet he seems to bring me tea. Once when I returned from the mountain, and the other, when I was distracted last.
One asked L’sistê two questions. “Who is this person?” and to be sure, I asked “Who is this person really?”
‘Four of Coins’ rings true, but then ‘Queen of Cups.’
I do not know, but I feel once we get back there, she will test him, and then he shall understand.
I shall look carefully and pry slowly.

It seems we find more people daily in which to run rings with, yet I am met with hesitation.



Whyleth

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on: May 16, 2022, 10:37:07 AM
Day 8:
[This page seems stained with drops of random brews, as if someone was crafting potions and spilled some accidentally.]

And thus it has come, the culmination which draws closer to its end.

Salvation has come, the hope of so many lays within the ward. The keys to his bane lay mere footsteps away. I do not know how much can be spoken of to those. Yet those who do not know, cannot know seek to destroy it for simply being.
May this be the end of my second shame, the end to his winter. As Tel’Quessir I plan silently, advise silently. Yet to speak true may lead to death, also in service to a Ward that barely tolerates one such as myself. I have listened to the Druids, I have listened to the Skratti, I have listened… to him. This must stand.

The Orzan threat is at its end, what is left of it, scattered. Upon last moon the skies grew red as ritual unfurled, time stood still. It appears we were too late for whatever happened, but it is something that does not bode well. Among those who fought, the only one that I question as to why is Lucas Castell. I do not have enough to form opinions since it is merely sennights ago we fled them. One shall keep appearances.



Whyleth

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on: May 18, 2022, 02:56:15 AM
[This page doesn’t seem to have any relevance to anything. Just an assortment of memories and thoughts.]

We help him because like us he has known grief and loss like ours. Time has made wounds fester, and while we cannot fix time’s wounds we can deliver onto him what we can. We stand before him, my companion passing into him my own words only for him to speak: “You are mistaken, I am not who you think me to be.”

In a strange sense of fortunate misfortunes, I have wounds I can remember and those I do not. One has learned emotional wounds, the ones of my kin, my companions, of those from my ventures who have travelled to find their demise, some who I have drawn them to.

My physical wounds are immense, and those I do not remember, scars, scratches and places where I should have been totally impaled or ripped apart. Mayhaps this is my fate cheated, my own immortality that I still stand marked upon me from my eyes to what seems the whitening of my hair. Do I take my mortality from others? Have I cursed fates in my favour?

“The wonts..” she lurks behind me…within me. “The wonts of the husk of Vellas. Unbound be the realities of Helvete, yet to see the whims man you dive willingly and has brought you suffering. So you shall…”