04-01-2024, 11:11 AM
Sae of 2111AC
The other survivors and soldiers with us noticed something across the horizon. Members of the Demon King's legion are moving in tandem with a pack of wolves, a white-garbed leader in tow. They're moving. Why?
Hard to tell.
Some of us thought of it as potentially moving supplies, but they have everything they want here in Atrellya— or so we believe. So why go somewhere else? It makes no sense. Unless they're looking for something, or are just expanding for the Hel of it, there's no rhyme or reason for this.
… we don't feel at ease with this set of news. Not one bit.
We're down to a band of about three dozen. I'm fortunate enough to know that my mother, father, and little Soleil, my baby sister— have all escaped to safety. I chose to stand behind because I wanted to do good, here.
Which is why I'm going to follow them. Alone.
… the band doesn't know that I'm leaving yet. I'll give it a month before I break the news.
Uncle Lucius departed some decades ago, by my parents' account of events. He hasn't returned.
… I pray that does not happen to me.
— Y. Randell
Leo of 2111AC
I told the group. They aren't happy.
We're down to twenty-nine, and most of them were to the wolves. One of the women, about my age, took the easier way out… I can't say I don't blame her.
But they have to understand. I have to find a way to stop this madness.
… talks are around that they're going to send the relics with me, with a slight delay. Herja, the Twilight-Breaker. Svipul, the Pillar of Dawn. A lance and a shield.
Let us hope Herja's eye accepts me.
— Y. Randell
Uner of 2111AC
Landfall.
Nothing more than a shoddy sword and a hardened gaze. This land— Meranthe, apparently— is a lot better-off than Atrellya. More vibrant. Less foreboding. Breathable air. No smell of blood.
… I found myself accosted by what I believed was a demon, but was more akin to a wild beast. An Ent, this young drakanite told me. We both attacked at once.
I was overwhelmed quickly. She did not fare much better, despite her skill level.
For my troubles, I was given a healthy beating and some breathing fatigue. No lasting damage, however.
The girl— Lin— brought me to a more hospitable land.
Arcadia. As far as I can tell, a newer township with quite the interesting population, comprised mostly of foreigners. Sheepkin— they name themselves Wolken— abound. I accompanied myself in their locale for a while before setting off on my own, for a time.
It is homely. And it is, I believe, a home I would fight for, as it reminds me of the days of my innocence.
Before all the wolves came.
— Y. Randell
Geist of 2112AC
I found a corpse.
Hidden away in the cave system, a man's body was hiding in near-perfect condition. How he died, I am unsure.
Perhaps morose of me to disturb the dead— but I brought it to Iaoel, one of the leaders of the township, as I'd sat in on a town meeting. I asked him in private what to do with such a thing, as I was aware of their partial devotion to Caius (a god of death, or so it seems).
He told me of the rites of remembrance for the fallen. Each body, each person, each name worth remembering, an apple tree's seeds are planted. Though I never met the corpse's souled being, I cannot help but to feel somewhat nostalgic for this rite.
I wonder how expansive the forest would be, if I were to return that rite home.
A reminder to the self— follow up on what Nephilim are. Iaoel is apparently one, and claims heritage of Pylae Himself.
An odd way to spend the twenty-first birthday.
— Y. Randell
Syph of 2112AC
Odd happenings continue in these lands.
Bone-winged sisters that herald Death in different forms have manifested at and around the township. One was almost omen-like, and heralded the pages of a book— yet when a boy approached to take a peek, his hand unraveled to a rotted state.
The other was killing everything around her, without care, and wanted us to accelerate and hurtle to our deaths. Once, she challenged the township— and lost.
She later tried to provoke me. Had my saner mind not won, I do not believe it would be a very pretty sight.
I will have to make sense of it later— and understand why a Sinka flower blossomed at my feet when she impaled herself on Herja's spearhead.
I will remember Iaoel's words— to enjoy life beyond being a soldier. To live a life for myself, rather than for others.
It will be difficult to place my duties down.
— Y. Randell
Ios of 2112AC
A demon crashed our gates, and the spectacle of the whole thing stirred me from slumber.
This was not an Atrellyan demon, but a native one. For whatever reason, the chaos and destruction it wrought empowered it significantly. One nearly killed it outright, but it kept fighting stronger and stronger, as if it was adapting.
Even though I do not hold suitable armor, nor gear, beyond Herja and Svipul— I challenged it.
I will not forget what it told me. It wanted a challenge.
It wanted me to draw my own holy power's fullest potential from within— despite coursing with a deathly, occultic power. And yet… what is it, that my fullest potential lies with?
The fight was… hectic. I lost severely. It spared me— Toji, its name— yet spoke that it wanted to see me at my strongest. Yet my soul was cracked.
It could have slain me. Easily so. Why, then, did it spare me…?
… I still do not have much time to process it, even as I move for rest. The clinic was burning down, for reasons I still don't fully comprehend.
Rued Silvanas— I will keep this name in mind— King of Serenity, or so he says. A well-meaning, straightforward man, if imposing due to his dire appearance and incredulous height.
I spoke with him to explain the depths of the threats the Atrellyan demons have brought forth.
It is worse than I thought— Ascended demons walk among their rank and file.
He spoke that I am important.
I only hope that is not the case.
— Y. Randell
The other survivors and soldiers with us noticed something across the horizon. Members of the Demon King's legion are moving in tandem with a pack of wolves, a white-garbed leader in tow. They're moving. Why?
Hard to tell.
Some of us thought of it as potentially moving supplies, but they have everything they want here in Atrellya— or so we believe. So why go somewhere else? It makes no sense. Unless they're looking for something, or are just expanding for the Hel of it, there's no rhyme or reason for this.
… we don't feel at ease with this set of news. Not one bit.
We're down to a band of about three dozen. I'm fortunate enough to know that my mother, father, and little Soleil, my baby sister— have all escaped to safety. I chose to stand behind because I wanted to do good, here.
Which is why I'm going to follow them. Alone.
… the band doesn't know that I'm leaving yet. I'll give it a month before I break the news.
Uncle Lucius departed some decades ago, by my parents' account of events. He hasn't returned.
… I pray that does not happen to me.
— Y. Randell
Leo of 2111AC
I told the group. They aren't happy.
We're down to twenty-nine, and most of them were to the wolves. One of the women, about my age, took the easier way out… I can't say I don't blame her.
But they have to understand. I have to find a way to stop this madness.
… talks are around that they're going to send the relics with me, with a slight delay. Herja, the Twilight-Breaker. Svipul, the Pillar of Dawn. A lance and a shield.
Let us hope Herja's eye accepts me.
— Y. Randell
Uner of 2111AC
Landfall.
Nothing more than a shoddy sword and a hardened gaze. This land— Meranthe, apparently— is a lot better-off than Atrellya. More vibrant. Less foreboding. Breathable air. No smell of blood.
… I found myself accosted by what I believed was a demon, but was more akin to a wild beast. An Ent, this young drakanite told me. We both attacked at once.
I was overwhelmed quickly. She did not fare much better, despite her skill level.
For my troubles, I was given a healthy beating and some breathing fatigue. No lasting damage, however.
The girl— Lin— brought me to a more hospitable land.
Arcadia. As far as I can tell, a newer township with quite the interesting population, comprised mostly of foreigners. Sheepkin— they name themselves Wolken— abound. I accompanied myself in their locale for a while before setting off on my own, for a time.
It is homely. And it is, I believe, a home I would fight for, as it reminds me of the days of my innocence.
Before all the wolves came.
— Y. Randell
Geist of 2112AC
I found a corpse.
Hidden away in the cave system, a man's body was hiding in near-perfect condition. How he died, I am unsure.
Perhaps morose of me to disturb the dead— but I brought it to Iaoel, one of the leaders of the township, as I'd sat in on a town meeting. I asked him in private what to do with such a thing, as I was aware of their partial devotion to Caius (a god of death, or so it seems).
He told me of the rites of remembrance for the fallen. Each body, each person, each name worth remembering, an apple tree's seeds are planted. Though I never met the corpse's souled being, I cannot help but to feel somewhat nostalgic for this rite.
I wonder how expansive the forest would be, if I were to return that rite home.
A reminder to the self— follow up on what Nephilim are. Iaoel is apparently one, and claims heritage of Pylae Himself.
An odd way to spend the twenty-first birthday.
— Y. Randell
Syph of 2112AC
Odd happenings continue in these lands.
Bone-winged sisters that herald Death in different forms have manifested at and around the township. One was almost omen-like, and heralded the pages of a book— yet when a boy approached to take a peek, his hand unraveled to a rotted state.
The other was killing everything around her, without care, and wanted us to accelerate and hurtle to our deaths. Once, she challenged the township— and lost.
She later tried to provoke me. Had my saner mind not won, I do not believe it would be a very pretty sight.
I will have to make sense of it later— and understand why a Sinka flower blossomed at my feet when she impaled herself on Herja's spearhead.
I will remember Iaoel's words— to enjoy life beyond being a soldier. To live a life for myself, rather than for others.
It will be difficult to place my duties down.
— Y. Randell
Ios of 2112AC
A demon crashed our gates, and the spectacle of the whole thing stirred me from slumber.
This was not an Atrellyan demon, but a native one. For whatever reason, the chaos and destruction it wrought empowered it significantly. One nearly killed it outright, but it kept fighting stronger and stronger, as if it was adapting.
Even though I do not hold suitable armor, nor gear, beyond Herja and Svipul— I challenged it.
I will not forget what it told me. It wanted a challenge.
It wanted me to draw my own holy power's fullest potential from within— despite coursing with a deathly, occultic power. And yet… what is it, that my fullest potential lies with?
The fight was… hectic. I lost severely. It spared me— Toji, its name— yet spoke that it wanted to see me at my strongest. Yet my soul was cracked.
It could have slain me. Easily so. Why, then, did it spare me…?
… I still do not have much time to process it, even as I move for rest. The clinic was burning down, for reasons I still don't fully comprehend.
Rued Silvanas— I will keep this name in mind— King of Serenity, or so he says. A well-meaning, straightforward man, if imposing due to his dire appearance and incredulous height.
I spoke with him to explain the depths of the threats the Atrellyan demons have brought forth.
It is worse than I thought— Ascended demons walk among their rank and file.
He spoke that I am important.
I only hope that is not the case.
— Y. Randell