Daolyth's Diary - High Feast of Surya

I am not proud of what I have done nor will it bring me any joy, but watching Apsenniel put herself in danger for my sake has become more than I can bear. I so desperately want to keep her safe and yet the thought of her imperilling her life to save me because I have fallen to keep her safe......it destroys me. I do not doubt that she would attempt to overcome any obstacle to rescue me and that...........is not acceptable. Not at the cost of her life.

Speaking to Red about Arrakech, I realised how much in danger we will be. How can I keep her safe, if she insists on coming after me while I try to discharge the duty Red has asked of me? I feel such fear at that thought. I cannot sleep.

When I entered the dream of the golden elf, I saw a world so bright, so beautiful, it overwhelmed me. I realised how far from her I am. How far from walking in light I am. Nin rochben en dae she calls me, yet I am weak. When I look at Rurik, at the Paladins, at Tyriel, at Lazarus and at Duibhre, I see capable people worth saving. That isn't me. I'm a shield, nothing more.

The fortune Taci'bien read for me told of betrayal. The pain in Apsenniel's voice when she thought of how she might hurt me, what others might make her to do me. That again was unbearable. Why should she be tormented by such thoughts when she has burden's enough already? I do not believe that she ever could do such a thing and yet...........and yet, she worries. It is too much.

It took a lot of alcohol to do what I did. Although not too much to make it impossible. Fitting in some respects that Taci'bien should be the means by which I debased myself. She seemed to enjoy herself enough not to notice my discomfort or feigning of delight. Liora seemed utterly oblivious. They hurt me, but probably less than I deserved. The experience was disturbing. Not even possessing the gratification of the women we'd buy after battle when I served with the Wolverines. I like Taci'bien and there is a sickness in my stomach about how I have used her. But it is done now and I have only begun to face the consequences.

The look on her face when I told her. I do not believe this can be forgiven and it should not be. To put me beyond betrayal and Apsenniel beyond guilt. At least I can defend her now knowing she will let me be unless circumstances permit an easy and safe rescue. That is a measure of peace. And she will feel no sadness when I am gone. Another pain spared her.

Maybe my presence on campaigns will keep her away? That is a comforting thought, but an unlikely reality, because she will go wherever she is needed regardless. Still, it could happen.


I have snuffed out the only light in my life for the sake of it continuing to burn for a world that needs it.

I can live with the consequences of my actions as long as she continues to live.

I will defend her as a shadow and then at least I will be half of what she thought me to be. Of the shadows. But not a knight.

I will miss her terribly.

Daolyth's Diary - March - Northern Taureanna

Snow? In March?

I'm regretting not taking the option of the transport beacon direct to Caras Estarwae now. I'm stuck atop a flet in a blizzard. Fortunately this flet has a shelter and I have supplies.

But I can barely see the foot of the tree, let alone anywhere else.

Daolyth's Diary - March - Northern Taureanna

Tariel was kind enough to perform the transport rite for me to the Taureanna circle, but could not be persuaded to join me for the high feast of Surya. I suspect that fact that I intend to walk to Caras Estarwae in part put her off, but I could sense her hesitance was more than that. A fear of the unknown? I was dismissive of it at the time, now I feel that I should've paid more attention.

For now, I am far from at ease.

The waywardens near the transport circle were kind enough to provide me with directions and other useful information to ease my travels. Apparently my name is known to them, thanks to the waywarden I met at the Gorsedd and my appearance distinctive. They know that technically, these lands are my home and as such have extended me the courtesy of their protection while in Taureanna. I declined the offer of a guide, as I am not in the mood for new company, but their advice was welcome. Which places to avoid, which paths to use and how to recognise the trailsigns that locate the treebased flets they use to overnight in the wilderness. I am writing from one of these flets now. They are strangely comfortable and could readily accommodate a few individuals, with space for a fire. I am very grateful for the time spent alone on Amnor learning how to light the wretched things.

I also have iron, flint, tinder and other fire making tools in my backpack as a matter of routine now.

The waywardens were non-specific as to whether anything in the wilderness could climb up to these flets. That is not an encouraging thought. I seem possessed of an abundance of these at present.

Taureanna is beautiful, but the land is possessed of a strange melancholy that I can best describe as "autumnal" even though I can see the signs of spring everywhere. There is not the same sensation of restless energy that heralds spring on Amnor, with the wild and tempestuous weather. The feeling here is somewhere between serene and languid. Maybe the melancholy is what I have brought with me? for as I have said, I am not at ease here.

Indeed, I have a sense of foreboding. A strong sense.

I do not know what to expect of the elves of Caras Estarwae and the other members of House Beru'thiel. Will they meet the expectations of the other Lions and be vain, condescending and aloof? Will they be possessed of a sense of racial superiority that is likely to provoke the non-elves in attendance? Am I going to spend my time trying to defuse disputes between different races because neither side will see sense?

More than that, I wonder what they will make of me, given what I look like and what I am. Not that I am any more certain as to what I am. Which in turn will make it all the harder to explain myself if I am asked or what my purpose is here. Just because I am of Beru'thiel does not mean they will or should welcome me.

To bodyguard Apsenniel in the city of her people? A nonsense. Surely she is safest here of anywhere in all the heartlands. I am little more than a redundancy in the unlikely event that the city should fall and every waywarden, guard, elf and Gryphon, should be sundered unto the earth.

I am an advisor? In a city of Elves who are millennia older than I and remember times I cannot even begin to conceive of. What use am I, who can barely recall his own life? let alone provide meaningful discourse on past history. I cannot read any of the signs written in Elvish. My ignorance is staggeringly offensive.

I have no rank no authority. Clara will speak on behalf of the Lions and I am nobody's emissary.

There is a part of me that thinks it would be enough to set my eyes upon the tower of Caras Estarwae and then turn away and head back to Amnor. Where I belong and at least provide some small use to the Order, the faction and the people of Lantia. Perhaps if the sky is clear tomorrow I will see the tower from atop this flet?

But I will go. I promised I would. If nothing else I will sit in on the council meeting and hear what the other elves do or do not have to say. If necessary I will share my thoughts and that will be enough. I can always leave once that is done.

Some warrior. Some "competent elf." I am barely arrived and already thinking of leaving. But, I felt more at ease in Teutonia than I do here.

Sleep will not be easy.

Daolyth's Diary - October 1112 - Irem Day 3

The Irem campaign is concluded and the Jackals have emerged victorious, in no small part thanks to the visitors from the other nations. I do not recall a point in the battle to contain the demon to become the new warleader for Irem where Apsenniel and I were not fighting toe to toe with the daemon's bodyguards or the daemon itself. I expended all my power and had exhausted myself by the time the deed was done.

Yet I feel no sense of racial superiority that Rebraal might attest to. Instead I found myself looking at the elves resident in the Jackals lands with an increasing sensation of annoyance and disdain.

They do nothing.

At least nothing I could see. Perhaps they operate industriously beyond the spectrum of visible light, but somehow I doubt it.

I will not claim that I have never seen a more useless group of arm waving, small minded, vacuous, ineffectual creatures, because the reality is they are manifest in all races. But, I had expected better from other elves. Apsenniel spent a great deal of time, speaking eloquently and with great passion, about awakenings only to be met with an infuriatingly muted response. I hold a far higher opinion of Burnscar than I do of these wretches, but then I've always believed in judging on merit rather than sweeping generalisations of race or respiration for that matter.

I'm really not sure these elves are the ones Rebraal has in mind when speaking about "elven superiority."

Did I mention they wear scarves round their head hiding their ears? Apparently we're supposed to instinctively be able to tell that they are Elves. How does that work? On what basis am I judging their elvishness?

Grace? - sadly lacking. Any suggestions of healthy diet and regular exercise have gone unheeded.
Drive? - mostly non existent, possibly due to the aforementioned.
Wisdom? -  not exactly the most inspiring 'brains trust.'
Combat Expertise - if I were reliant on such individuals for survival in a battle, I'd surely be dead.

Perhaps I am being unkind, but I am tired, grumpy and have an endless amount of paperwork awaiting me when I return to the preceptory, so I do not feel disposed to kindness at this time.

I do not include Al-Reisha as part of this ineffectual collective, although she is far too suspicious for my liking and constantly having to reassure her of my loyalty to Caleb is wearing. As is re-emphasising that marrying a human is not grounds for judging anyone. Marrying an idiot human, yes, that would be grounds for complaint, but then I fail to see how that is different from marrying an idiot elf. Or any other sort of idiot for that matter. 

*sigh*

It would be nice to state one's position before the accusation of being "a conclave elf" is levelled at you. I'm still not sure what one of those is or how many limbs it should have.

Daolyth's Diary - October 1112 - Irem Day 2

I nearly died. Alone. In the dark.

And she came for me.

I had failed her. The last thing I remember before my senses left me was seeing her fall to the ground from the daemon's magic and then I went away. I couldn't keep her safe. I failed her. I failed her. 

And then I fell and remembered nothing.

Nothing until I felt her arms around me, holding me up, telling me she couldn't do this without me. She hadn't come along, Fama and Anaeus were there, along with some of the Jackals. A formidable rescue party for one such as me. When did I acquire so much worth?

We did the only thing we could at that point, we carried on fighting. A force to be reckoned with. When we both fell a second time trying to defend Anaeus, the Jackals referred to us as "the elves." Apsenniel and I have set ourselves apart, although I had thought that was through dint of her actions and intellect, rather than my own.

Later, after all the battles were done, relaxing in our tent, Duibhre of the Accord referred to me as Apsenniel's "Elven Knight."  An unexpected compliment and one I was very touched by. I do not know if I have what it takes to be a "Knight" but I will give it my all in body, word and deed. I will find a way to be stronger protector for her, as much as an advisor and thinker.

The discussion with Burnscar, the unliving Skaven, made me reflect on how much some are prepared to sacrifice for the sake of a cause and the ones they care about. Apsenniel could barely bring herself to look at Burnscar, yet I found myself oddly touched by her self-sacrifice.

To what extreme's am I prepared to go to? Would I be willing to become something reviled by those I care about in order to protect them? To be hated and feared because one loves others more than oneself?

I do not know what I will become. All I know is that now, right now, I will die to keep her safe.

Daolyth's Diary - October 1112 - Irem Day 2

I am bone weary, for it has been a long day so far as Irem fell under attack shortly after sunrise. I was one of the few, the very few, in camp at the time the first waves of unliving assaulted us. At that point, I had thought perhaps my journey to the land of the Jackals would be cut very short indeed. Despite the presence of the Jackal's war leader and one other, I had not felt quite so alone in some time.

Fortunate, I suppose, that my warding spells were able to deflect the blows of the unliving, at least at first. Then I found myself struck hard from behind and assumed I had missed foes sneaking round behind me.

Instead it transpired to be a fae, dressed in the drab grey of the Accord, who Apsenniel had amusingly described as "the murder fae." I struggled to find my humour at this point, as being on the receiving end of murder during a pitched battle will do that to even this cynic. I compounded my annoyance by breaking my chant to inquire as to what prompted the assault.

To his credit, the Fae was apologetic. Apparently he had mistaken me for some sort of "dread overlord of the unliving." This is a compliment of sorts, although somewhat worrying at the same time. I've never really thought of myself as a "dread overlord" before or even considered that my appearance might provoke such a reaction. I will reflect on this further at a quieter moment.

Apologies concluded, the battle concluded, with more of the Jackals and other visitors making their appearences. By the time Apsenniel arrived, I had been fighting for quite some time and had expended a good deal of power. Her arrival cheered me somewhat, although she did gently chide me somewhat for my battle zeal. I took this with good grace, as the comments were well founded, although under the circumstances, about an hour too late. Of Squad D and Henry Kane there was no sign until some time after the battle, which was unfortunate, as the shield wall of the greenskins would've been a comfort. Both the squad and Henry seemed confused at my exasperation and exhaustion. This led to something of an "argument" between myself and Henry later, regarding my faculties as a "bodyguard" to Al-Reisha. Given his absence for the entirity of the morning's battle, I did not take kindly to such criticism and my have been immoderate in my use of language.

The day continued in a similar vein, with my growing frustration at the general inadequacy of the Jackals as a martial force (with but a few exceptions) and that most of the work appeared to be done by visitors. I was particularly struck by the effectiveness of the Accord, who fight with a mix of great finesse and brutal simplicity. The one they call Marius is deeply disturbing and of very quick temper. I have made a mental note to avoid offending him or indeed avoid any conversation at all. Their leader, Duibhre, at least seems rather more tractable and thoughtful. Other vipers, included the Starcraft and the House of the Serpent, also fought with considerable vigor, although I find Remus intensely, intensely annoying. He seems to derive amusement from viewing women as mere chattel. I am quite sure he is some way from what could be considered "sane" even by my standards.

Lady Fama remains intriguing. She possesses great intellect, but is emotionally quite detached. I find a strange complusion to test my mental capacity against hers, although I've yet to find a subject on which we might be equals. Interesting.

I am resting now or at least Apsenniel is. I believe the intent is that we should both recover our energies, but I find I cannot rest here. But I do feel at peace.

Watching Apsenniel at rest is a new experience. I have grown so used to her striding purposefully and everything she does she conducts with great vigour. I had wondered from where she derives such energy and it would appear she has a faculty for rest that I do not. I am somewhat envious.

Where does my energy come from I wonder? How do I keep going?

She looks so peaceful at rest and so free of care and worry, and I know she worries and cares a great deal. The world seems quite ready to place burdens upon Apsenniel's shoulders and she is unwilling to share them, for fear of burdening others. Does she not realise how much I and others want to aid her? Another puzzle. 

Time enough to ponder these mysteries later. I hear the alarm bell sounding in the Jackal's command tent and already there is the sound of movement in the woods outside the tent.  I would leave Apsenniel here at rest if I could, just to know that she is not carrying her burdens for a little while longer. However, I cannot leave her unguarded and asleep in the middle of a fight.

If we proceed cautiously, I'm sure everything will be fine.

Poetry - Within The Cage

It lurks, languid within the bars of its cage
It hungers, craving both to feed and be fed upon
It gnaws, at itself when no others are in reach
It craves, the sensation inflicted and to inflict
It licks, the teeth and wounds marked on flesh
It wants, skin to be torn and tear upon beauty
It thrashes, yet wishes to be constrained
It strains, for it wants to lash and claw
It begs, without humility and subservience
It bites, showing no yielding mercy
There is only the darkness of contempt

Daolyth's Diary - October 1112 - Irem Day 1

Apsenniel is here. In Irem, the City of Brass.

I had not expected to see her again so soon and here we both are, in a war zone and there has been much in the way of battle.

The sensation I felt at the Gathering, the completeness, the peace. I feel that when I fight alongside Apsenniel. There is a kinship between us, a co-ordination of movement, that cannot simply be by chance. Neither of us could be considered to be merely "adequate" fighters, but together the whole is far far greater than the individual parts. I do understand how this has come to pass. There is a mystery here I've yet to unravel.

I feel somewhat guilty that I am not devoting as much attention as I should to guarding Al-Reisha, but Squad D are present as is Knight-Captain Henry Kane, so she is not short of immediate protectors. Besides, I spend most of my time in the frontlines with Apsenniel fighting against incoming threats, which is arguably protecting Al-Reisha as much as everyone else. Indeed, it appears that the guests of the Jackals fight a good deal harder than the Jackals themselves. I have, on few occasions, found myself wondering as to what purpose some of the Jackals serve, as they appear to have no useful function.

Given this paucity of talent, I am certain more than ever that I am in the right place and that I cannot simply entrust Apsenniel's safety to that of others. I do not think I would forgive myself if something happened to her.

 

Daolyth's Diary - 1112 October - Emmerix Campaign

My excursion to Emmerix was brief enough as the Lions had the situation there well in hand.  I was somewhat trepidatious at what I would find on arrival and whether Henry would transport me into the middle of a battle in progress, but all was quiet. I left Henry hiding in bushes near the transport circle, still muttering nonsense about socks.

I was not entirely sure reception to expect from the Lions and I was surprised, as well as touched, by the warmth which greeted my arrival. I had not thought myself so well liked or understood by the people's of Lantia and this has caused me to look on them in a different light. Elspeth introduced me to a senior member of the armourers guild as the Lions resident "expert" on awakenings, which rather caught me off guard. However, she then supplied some very agreeable port, which settled my nerves.

Squad D were their usual effusive selves in their greetings and offerred a collection of noxious greenskin beverages which I accepted with good grace, but only pretended to drink. I've found this approach works best.

Prince Caleb and I entered into a long discussion on a number of issues, which was momentarily interrupted by the sudden and tragic death of the Lions High Healer, Elrood Brond. Murdered under mysterious circumstances. I took the opportunity to mention the memorial of Hengist's hut to Nethaniel at this juncture, in the hope he would be inspired to journey there and record Elrood's likeness. He seemed interested, although somewhat confused. I will speak on this further with Nethaniel at a future point.

Aside from Caleb requesting I escort his wife Al-Reisha on campaign in the Jackal lands of Irem,
there was little more needed from me on Emmerix. I dispensed what equipment I had been able to bring from the Order's stores and where I could, provided magical reinforcement to those I felt needed it and allowed the resident warlocks to syphon what power from me they could.

With no one else at the preceptory to oversea the affairs of the Order, I had to return to Amnor, but I did so with regret. I appear to have more of a home with the Lions than I had thought.

Daolyth's Diary - 1112 October

I have returned home to the preceptory after an uneventful days hike across Amnor.

Where is everyone?

I know that Gaelstrom was planning to begin moving the Order out to Neapolis, so his absence and that of Raze, the pack and a few others, is hardly a surprise.

But almost none of the other crusaders are here!

Where is Estragon? Astraea? Rayaz? Tariel? Rideon?

I eventually tracked Henry down in the armouries, who was, typically, confused on a great number of matters including the whereabouts of missing socks. Henry rather mistakenly assumed I'd come to assist him in his undergarment search endeavours and it took me some time to persuade him that this was emphatically not the reason I was here.

Besides, who looks for socks in an armoury? I fear Henry has taken one too many blows to the head or the abberancy he acquired attempting to become a paladin has permanently addled his mind. Regardless, getting him to the point at hand took rather more effort than I felt was necessary.

Apparently, despite my precise instructions that I was to be contacted via imp about the Order's movements, a number of the bretheren have gone on campaign with the Lions to Emmerix to deal with the time elementals once and for all. They have gone without me and seemingly without a number of items from the Order's stores!

I am very vexed.

Fortunately Henry is capable of performing a transport rite and while we have to rush now, I still have a few days to make it to the Armengar circle and transport to Emmerix. The other's have travelled first Camelot to rally with the rest of the Lions, before shipping out to the island and secure the transport circle there. If my calculations are correct, I should arrive once the beachead is well established.

Still, we're going to have to hike through the night to make up ground. Henry won't like that. 

Tough. I'm back now and there is work to do.

Daolyth's Diary - 1112 September - Day 18

I felt an odd twinge of emotions as I looked back down the hill toward's Hengist's hut. I'd finished what I set out to do, both in terms of physical tasks and reflecting on what I was to do in the future. I've restocked the log pile and the larder to the best of my abilities, but will need to return in the spring with assistance to resow the vegetable garden.

My business here is done for the moment, but I feel conflicted at departing. There is such peace here, but I know the purpose of this place is not to be one's sanctuary from all the world's ills. Hengist did not retreat here indefinitely and neither shall I.

I finished my carving of Hengist two days ago and resisted the urge to render him with his face resting in his palm, as much as the thought amused me. I've tried to capture his good humour and energy. The drive which his leadership brought to the faction and his keen mind.

I finished the carving two days ago and since then I've found myself staring at blank pieces of wall and wondering if my face will go up there one day and who will carve it. I worry that perhaps I am the only one who knows of this place and who will continue it after I am gone? Yet, I do not know how to begin telling others of this place or what occasion might warrant my doing so.

In my heart, I also know that I do not want to carve more faces into the wood of this hut, although I fear the continuation of the task is inevitable. At least, as the walls of the hut are a memorial for the Lions, I might be spared the pain carving one face into these walls, but that would mean I would only create a memorial somewhere else. I was staggered by how profoundly the emotion struck me that this was not an event I wished to live to see.

It was that revelation that prompted me this morning to gather my things and prepare to leave. I have promises to fulfil back in the world and I will meet those promises or die trying.

But, more than anything, I have a purpose beyond that now.  

Something beautiful to live for.

Someone to protect beyond all other things.

I looked down the hill one more time as the morning sunlight scattered across the waves and felt its warmth caress me in the dappled light playing through the trees. I will return here when the need arises, but now I have work to do.