Ebon Skull Archives: The Story of Dragonia
From Atlantic Roleplay Wiki
This is reposted from OES documentation for the pleasure of the Atlantic Community. Story by Dragonia of OES.
Introduction
The history of the Ebon Skull would not be complete without the journals of Dragonia that we are fortunate to still have. While her name is still used by mothers to scare children into being good or under the hushed campfire stories of the orc, it is amazing to see the young girl from which this darkness sprang. For where there were no journals, I have done my best to recreate the events that led to her to the skull.
Master Scholar Nahman
Contents |
CHAPTER 1
As a child, life was agonizingly simple for Dragonia. Mornings would start while the air was still crisp and the night sky was dripping with the universe. By the time the morning sun changed the horizon to a brilliant orange, Dragonia was done with a quarter of the day's chores. Milking the one cow, getting the eggs, sweeping the barn. All the time, their farm just outside of Britain, she watched as assorted strangers trudged past on the mud road, going off to adventures that she couldn't even dream of.
Her parents were simple and strict. Dragonia was their only child, a curse they blamed on a vindictive neighbor who practiced in the dark arts. Dragonia would have to eavesdrop on her parents to learn of this story. When she heard it, the door that it opened to her simple world was forever changed. Someone had the power to take away a woman's fertility? What sort of person was this neighbor? What else had she done? To add to the curiosity, the plot of land next to theirs was creped and dead. Nothing would grow there. The barn and house were falling apart and all that was told to her by her mother was to stay away for evil things lurked inside.
This was too much for a girl like Dragonia. In the glowing light of dusk, she snuck through two dislodged planks, into the unknown. The smell of mildew and rot was almost overpowering. She was in what appeared to be a kitchen. There was a rusting stove pot, a table, and what appeared to be the remnants of candles. Spider webs covered the ceiling and hung like drapes. A few rodents scurried from her unwelcome presence as she swallowed and pushed forward to the one door.
Rays of sunshine were beginning to illuminate the clouds of dust brought on through the intrusion. The spider webs seemed to grow thicker as she neared the door that only hung on one hinge. Her mind screamed that there was danger, that she had never seen spider webs this big or this strong.
As she pushed the door open, the hinge gave way and the door came crashing to the ground in a cloud. Behind in the room, was a cave made of webs. The floor, covered in various bones was painted with a strange star. Through some of the webs she could see various dark paintings, pealing from the walls. Dark faces with wide white eyes stood side by side with strange symbols.
In the web were various cocoons the size that seemed to indicated rats or cats. From the open door, she guessed maybe pigeons as well. As she looked closer, her eyes caught a movement to her right. A look in that direction revealed a cocoon the size of a human, a hand covered with a leather glow hanging out from the webs folds and the top of head, sticking out from the web, it's undead eyes staring at her.
A strange feeling came over her, a warming tingleness that spread throughout Dragonia's body. She stared at the dead woman and wondered who she was. And then the woman blinked and began to struggle.
Dragonia's heart leaped up into her throat and she swung around to find herself face to face with a black mass of angles and the hard shell of a giant black widow spider.
She was close enough to see the hundreds of eyes and her reflection in each one. The two regarded each other and Dragonia stared into the reflection of herself. She was still as a mouse, her breathing stopped and she saw her reflection begin to change.
She saw her skin melt away, the skull shining through and all around was snow, and mountains.
The spider suddenly turned around causing Dragonia to jump, and it scurried away into a hole in the web above.
Dragonia ran home, covered in dust and dirt, and as she was scolded by her mother for taking so long, her body was in turmoil. Feelings she has never felt spiked through her body. A strange warmness spread throughout her and butterflies dances in her stomach.
After going to bed, she found she could not sleep at first. Her minds eye relived the sight of the woman. . or it could have been a man with long hair, she wasn't sure. . and the dark creature that seemed to let her go.
She ran her hands over her body, feelings it's warmth, seeking a release she didn't understand . . .
And as she fell into sleep she had her first dream of the Ebon Skull. She was in walking in the wastelands of Caina. The snow was swirling but silent and Dragonia was drawn to a snow embankment on the side of the mountain. As she neared it, she saw the steam rising from the snow.
The only sounds were the crunch of snow under her bare feet. The steam seemed to be coming from a hole in the snow. She reached down inside and quickly pulled out, her hand singed. The snow began to quickly melt, and a glossy black object slowly began to emerge from the snow. It was a skull and it's eyes bored into Dragonia's. It's jaw moved.
"Dragonia . . ."
She awoke to a day that promised to be unlike any other. From that night on, her dreams where filled with visions of Caina and the future. Of Orcs, of wars, or rings of fire, and Harpies swinging swords that spoke in dark whispers. Some were violent, some were sexual, and while she didn't understand them, she felt their calling nature.
CHAPTER 2
Her trips to the heart and soul of Britain were always days of excitement for Dragonia. Street Vendors, the throng of adventures at the bank, the smell of garbage, and the occasional rush of horsemen fighting for unknown reasons, chasing each other up and down the streets and alleys were much better than the dullness of home.
When she had reached the age of puberty, the farm suffered a few years of draught. The workload increased for the whole family and Dragonia was entrusted to go to the city on the weekly errand to pick up food or supplies.
At first she was scared to be alone in such a chaotic environment but after a few trips, she noticed that no one paid much mind to her. Possibly she was too plain for lechers, and too poor looking for thieves. It often seemed to her that she was invisible in this sea of humanity.
It was on a warm spring day that she first noticed herself being noticed. Her walk to the bakery took her past an old run down door in the center of a stone building. A wooden sign with faded paint hung over the door, marking it as a shop rather than a house. On the sign was a picture of garlic and nightshade.
On this warm spring day, with the sewage backing up onto the streets, making the flies even more a nuisance than usual, an old man stood in the doorway, staring at Dragonia. Her eyes only got a quick glance before she averted her gaze to the ground and stepped up her gait but the memory burned in her. The man was staring at her.
The next week, she encountered the same man again, and the week after that as well. He seemed to wait for her at his doorstep, watching her walk by. She thought about him each time she got home and wondered why he was so peculiar. He looked old, with a long white beard and bushy eyebrows. He wore a brown robe with sandals and a pouch where he probably kept his gold, hanging secure from a belt.
The next week she was surprised to see that the man was not there but the door was open, showing only a dimly lit room beyond. Dragonia stopped, her curiosity tugging at her, trying to persuade her into peaking into the shop.
Good sense won out though and she continued around the corner to the Bakery.
Her eyes went from the ground up to a brown mass not quite in time to stop her from running head on into the old man who looked down at her.
"I'm sorry!" Dragonia squeaked as she backed up.
"No, I am sorry. See, I wanted to invite you into my shop."
"Oh, um, I can't today. I'm kind of late as it is."
The old man smiled. "Very well. You are welcome anytime." Then he floated past her and walked back to his shop.
Dragonia took a step toward the bakery, then another, but before she knew what he feet were doing, she had turned around and was following the old man to his shop. She would not be able to sleep tonight without knowing what was in the shop or why the old man was interested in inviting her.
It was the smell of the shop that first hit her. The smells of mint, garlic, and other herbs assaulted her senses. Strange colored potions lined the shelves that crisscrossed the store. The old man was standing at a table and grinding something together.
He looked up at her. "You are Dragonia."
Dragonia stopped in her tracks. "What?"
"You are Dragonia." The old man smiled.
"I. . .you. . .how did you know my name?"
The old man giggled as if partaking in a practical joke. He covered his mouth and whispered, "The Skull told me."
Dragonia's eyes narrowed and in her mind the memories of her dreams flickered to life.
"Yes. . .Dragonia. . .Tell me girl. Do you have a rat problem at home?"
Dragonia slowly approached the table. "I guess so. Who doesn't"
"Watch. . . " The old man took his grindings, now a green ash and let it slide into a bowl. Still smiling, he pulled out an orange from his pouch, cut it open with a small knife, and squeezed the juice into the bowl. Handing a glass spoon to Dragonia he uttered, "Stir this for me."
The old man skirted off while Dragonia stirred the syrupy mixture. When he returned her brought a small white rabbit with him and he placed it on the table. "Do you like rabbits Dragonia?"
Dragonia nodded. The rabbit hopped over to the bowl, nose twitching and it proceeded to lick up the green syrup. "Good, good."
Dragonia watched as the rabbit suddenly jerked and sneezed. It backed away from the bowl and sneezed again, this time it's nose turning red, staining the white fur around its mouth. It sneezed again and wheezed, then lying down it seemed to struggle for air.
The old man watched Dragonia intently as she watch wide-eyed as the rabbit struggled against death. For her, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It gave her goosebumps and butterflies.
"The rabbit is dead Dragonia."
"Yes. I know."
"It would work good on rats, eh?"
Dragonia nodded.
The old man suddenly burst into a fit of mad laughter. Dragonia stared at him but was not afraid. "Can you teach me how to make that?"
Thus began to training of Dragonia. Her lessons with Nostur'yl were short. She only dared stay for an hour at most on her trips to town. From there she began to learn of death and the magic that surrounds it, of spells and inscription, or potions and poisons.
It was there that the seed of her restlessness with her home grew.
Chapter 3
With learning came more dreams. Every night and sometime while she was awake, she saw visions of many things. She saw snow and darkness, Drow assassins and orcs, and of a child of light that was yet to be conceived whom she saw causing much pain in her world.
She never mentioned it to her teacher who was too amazed at Dragonia's rapid learning of the arts to be surprised at anything in this young girl's life. As she learned to write, she kept a careful record of her days on hand made parchment.
"I dreamed again last night. It was of the orcs again but this time it was different. These dreams lately have not been the strange breeding ones as before. Of these dreams I wake up with my eyes moist. My heart goes out to them. For centuries they ruled this land before man came and forced them into the wilderness, killing them on sight as if they were animals. That was sad but in the last hundred years, Orcs have adapted to their new role in the world. In my dream though something terrible was happening to them, something that walked through the brush invisible, something that butchered orcs without sound, without sight, only blood and the stench of death. I saw running, screaming orcs. The Skull whispers to me and tells me to help them but I cannot. I have never seen an orc in real life, only in dreams. I know not how to help them."
Dragonia found ways to practice her skills at home. Poisoning predators that preyed on her father's livestock was one of her favorites. She would poison dead rabbits and leave it out on the outskirts of the field for the coyotes to eat. Many times she would hide at dusk and watch as the hungry animals ingested the corpse and then convulse in a violent death grip in the tall grass. The beauty of unraveling life filled her with warmth and a sexual excitement that she still did not understand. One sunset, as she waited in her ditch for the predators to come, she saw an orc at the edge of the woods. It stared at her. At first she couldn't tell if it was a vision or reality. The orc looked nervously behind him, then at her. Then he smiled, snarled and disappeared.
Dragonia rubbed her eyes and looked in the shadows desperately. Her heart was pounding violently in her chest and her hands were shaking.
"I saw an orc today. I do not know if it was a vision or reality. While confusing, it has shown me that I cannot stay here on the farm. Something is calling me, I do not know what, but I will not find it here. On that moment on the field, with the orange glow of the setting sun on that orc's snarling face, I wish he had kidnapped me and taken me away from this stupor of home. I must leave soon. I know not where or how, I just know that I have to leave. My father and mother. . . I do not know how they will manage the farm without me and I would be lying if I said that there isn't a small amount of guilt towards the beings that gave me life into this world. There is no love though. I am no more than a worker for them. I must go."
Chapter 4
This seed of discontent stirred in Dragonia, the dreams becoming more vivid and emotionally draining. Each trip to town reminded her that there was a world outside the work on the farm.
Tamers with large fire breathing dragons, archers letting loose whispering hell on enemies that seemed to descend on Britain in greater numbers, and the weary and tired adventures that came to stop in for reagents at her teacher's shop . . . they all reminded Dragonia that it was time for her to fly the nest and spread her wings. It was a dark blustery day that her chores brought her to the bank in Britain. There were less people than usual but still, Dragonia heard that familiar crack of air and saw the air before her split and open up into a moongate.
A young magician stepped out of it and headed to the bank.
Dragonia stared into the moonlight, her eyes reflecting the sparks that flew from the protesting air. She dropped her bag with seed and took a step forward. She stopped. She looked behind her one last time and then at the fastest she had ever run before she sprinted through the gate.
The world around her stretched and moaned. She had never been through a gate. She saw stars and through the howling wind she heard laughter and singing, then she was on the other side.
The humid air hit her. She was in front of a bank in a town that she had never seen before. A few of the locals looked at her for a moment but then continued on with their present actions.
Dragonia stood, shaking softly and feeling the most alone and scared than she had ever felt. She was without money, skills, a place to sleep, or even a scrap of food. She walked for hours, wondering if she had made the right choice. "Where are my visions now?" she thought to herself. "Where are they when I need them" She smelled a familiar smell coming from one shop on the edge of a hedge maze that seemed to be centered in the center of town. It was a reagent shop and she headed to it, thinking that maybe she could get a job to pay for some room and board until she figured out where she needed to go.
Inside were a few mingling mages, smell herbs and mumbling about the prices. One though immediately looked up when she wandered into the shop. He squinted his eyes and watched her.
She stared back, having the strange sense of déjà vu that sometimes accompanies her visions. He nodded and walked over to her.
"Hello child."
Dragonia nodded. Why did everyone have to refer to her as a child?
"You seek the Ebon Skull?"
Dragonia thought about this and then nodded slowly, shyly looking at her feet.
"I am Rune Artisem. You must go to Caina. There you shall meet your destiny."
With that he uttered the magic so often heard at the bank and a moongate appeared before them, almost knocking over several jars of bloodmoss. "Hey!" screamed the proprietor. Dragonia smiled her thanks and stepped through the gate.
This moongate thrust her into darkness and a bitter biting cold. The light from the moons blinded her and as she stumbled into snow, all she could see was pitch black. She closed her eyes and embraced her arms around her tightly, trying to keep the howling wind from finding it's way into her robe.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she opened them and saw the faint outline of buildings around her. She could only see the outlines and shadows but as she got closer to them she saw their decrepit state.
Her clothing was poorly equipped for the cold and her feet were growing soaked and numb. The pain was almost unbearable which Dragonia recognized as good. She knew though that she needed to find shelter and quick. She briskly walked and stumbled through the snow filled streets and alleys looking for signs of life. Once, down a street, she could see a silhouette move slowly through the darkness. A cold feeling in her heart knew that this creature was the walking undead. It would provide no help to her and it was probably a good idea to stay away from it.
It wasn't long until she found a window high in a tower that glowed from candlelight. Over the howling wind she thought she heard organ music. It was a sad slow song that seemed to be a chorus of pain and suffering. As she approached the building the music stopped and she thought she saw a shape appear in the window momentarily but when she looked, she saw nothing but flickering shadows.
She approached the door.
Here is what is recorded in her journal of this event:
The large wooden door opened and the warm air hit me. I could see a fire raging in a fireplace in the back. In the doorway stood a large man wearing a red mask. The mask had fangs and exaggerated features to make it look as a monster might look to a child. Cut into the wood were two slits to allow the wearer to look out. He stared at me for a moment before standing aside to let me in at which point I rushed straight to the fire, my whole form shivering from the cold. He closed the door and in a muffled but deep voice behind the mask he said, "Welcome child."
I nodded and he walked around me.
"They did not say how beautiful you were."
I looked up. "No one has ever called me beautiful."
"You are among your own kind now." He walked up to me and ran his decayed hand down my cheek and down my shoulder, stopping above my breast. I briefly glanced at his hand to spy a ring with a flaming skull on it. He paused with his hand pressing against me, and then he stepped away.
"Yes. Very beautiful. Welcome to Caina. I will have a slave dress you and teach you what you must do." He walked to a grand staircase and turned around. "I am Lord Dealthagar. Welcome to your destiny." Then he disappeared into the shadows of the upper level.
As I tried to warm by the fire I began to take in my surrounding. The torn tapestries on the wall had a strange look to them and as I examined them further I saw that they were made with human skin. The chair on which I sat was made with human bones, polished bright with padding made from weaved human hair.
I was so fascinated that I did not see the female human slave enter the room holding a heavy black wool robe and thick leather boots made from seal fur. "Hello. Please put this one. It will be much warmer." He smile was certainly warm but I doubted that I could ever find warmth in that part of the world. I undressed out of my soaked farmer rags and as the firelight reflected off my nude body, I sensed the shadows seem to move as if to see me better. I caught the lady slave eyeing me with what seemed impure thoughts. I quickly grew goosebumps and slipped into the heavy fabric.
Once dressed, I was taken to where I learned was the slave's training quarters where I would begin my journey in the Ebon Skull. I was told of my first lessons that were to be completed and that my master would be a living man by the name of Lord Darlantan. I was given a room by myself in the attic and I have to say, it was quite nice with plenty of furs and a lantern that burned pure whale oil, a sweeter scent I cannot imagine.
Chapter 5
From the journal of Dragonia:
My quest to gain acceptance into the order seemed simple at first. I was to find a boy by the name of Darren and take some magical sword from him. My confidence in myself was severely lacking. I spent half the day trying to kill some sort of lizard man with no luck. How was I to take on some adventurer with a magic sword? Especially a sword as hyped up as this. A sword with a soul and a blade so sharp it could split a being in two with one swipe.
While I am still inexperienced, Treadeau Du'rome's spell book did come in handy though. I must remember to thank him again when I see him. I was going through reagents like candy and each new spell was like a new toy during the winter festivals. I was amazed and enthralled with my power.
I spent the later part of the day staking out the island North of Jhelom. It was boring and dangerous. When I wasn't working on poisoning my sword (which led to more painful cuts than I dare to think about) I was evading giant poisonous snakes.
The hot Jhelom sun acted as a sleeping spell on me and I drifted off several times, dreaming of Caina and the walls of Golgotha covered in boils. It was a disturbing dream and not very helpful.
Finally, after a run in with an alligator, I figured that I could spend some of the time getting more reagents for I was dangerously low so I headed back into town. I was forced to hawk much of what I owned and while I was in the particulars of this act, a blur in the tailor shop caught my eye.
What was it that I saw? I could feel the fabric between life and death stretching. I focused and I saw a spirit. I couldn't make much of him as he faded in and out, dancing around me. I focused some more and I realized that he was calling me name!
"You are indeed the one, " he said.
The one what? I asked this spirit many questions but it did not say much, fading in and out as it felt like, asking questions every now and then. "Who is your master?"
"What do you dream?" "Why do you wear a sword?"
I grew frustrated with the spirit as he danced in and out of the fabric and refused to answer my questions. Finally, it stopped and told me that Darren had returned to the island.
I dashed back, dropping my spell book, and flustering any and all plans that I had. Indeed, he was on the island and he was not the handsome villain that I had hoped. He was stocky and plain and the shine of intelligence did not show on this boy's eyes.
Yet, still, I did not underestimate him. Although he did not look dangerous, he could be.
So I proceeded with a desire to use my female charms on him. I dressed in the local garb of a farmhand and approached him.
After small chitchat, he mentioned that he was heading to the Dungeon of Covetous. He seemed not at all interested in me and I could see that my charm as a lady was not working. Now, diary, here is the strange part: I was disappointed. Even though he was squat and ugly (and dumb to boot), I found a desire in me that I have not been aware of before. Maybe it is because this is the first time that I have not been under my parent's cruel grip, or maybe the dreams have been stirring some sort of pot inside of me, I don't know.
I felt undisciplined and ashamed. I put away my guttural thoughts and placed in my mind how I was going to kill the lad. My resources were low. I decided on a combination of An Ex Por and In Nox. I tried casting Ex Por on this fool over half of Sosaria. I'm just did not have the experience!
Finally, with the help of my poltergeist friend. I cast In Nox on the boy and kept a good distance away from him as the poison turned his blood to acid and he died on the spot. Grateful I was, because the fool could not stop screaming in pain and shock of what I did. He must of attracted every ettin in the woods with his wailing! I stopped and looked at the corpse. I had just killed an innocent with my magic. A first for me. I closed my eyes and savored the moment. I found the feeling powerful and erotic.
My instructions snapped me to action and I quickly shifted through the body. No sword! Failure!
But there was a diary. . .
I am heading back to the meeting place of my master. The boy was seeking the sword but he did not have it yet. My quest continues.
It is morning of the next day now. My hand hurts from writing and I need to make many miles today. I still have not mastered the art of recall or moongates. My dreams last night were fortunately of my Master and mentor. . .so handsome and strong (I have never seen such a specimen of man before!) Not the usual dream of symbols and fears. Yesterday, that strange spirit told me that I would dream of him and I did. The dream was dark and beautiful. We were in a dark room with chains, ropes, tables, and hundreds of red candles. Outside, the wind howled and rattled the walls. I must have been in Caina. As my pleasure and pain climaxed I was aware of another watching from somewhere in the room.
If killing brings on dreams like these, I must remember to do it more often.
All right Diary, no more. I will write tomorrow.
Chapter 6
From the journal of Dragonia:
Thursday. "Damn," I muttered to myself. How did I get myself into this mess? I had teleported to the center of the Corrupted Shrine of Spirituality and now I didn't have enough reagents to get me back.
"Lord Darlantan!" I cried telepathically.
"Hang on slave." Lord Darlantan replied.
I blushed with embarrassment. Why do I keep on making these foolish mistakes? How can I ever hope to be a true Necromancer? I asked myself these questions a lot today. There is so much to learn of not only my skill but of the ways of the Order.
My journeys today took me to Skara Brae and Caina. In Skara Brae, I took part in my first ritual with the Order, celebrating the taking of Skara Brea by the forces of darkness.
What a rewarding experience that was. Although I was sacrificed (and it hurt like hell!), the bonds I made with my fellow men and women made the experience worthwhile.
Many onlookers watch us with horror and confusion. It was not your typical day at the bank for many residents!
Afterwards, I ended back up in Caina. The city was more alive than it usually was, with citizens I have never seen before carrying out their own personnal tasks. I hung out near the tower of skulls, talking with a fellow named Anthrax.
Now, Diary, I apologize for not remembering all the names. I must remember to bring a quill and parchment next time so that I can accurately relay what I've seen. Three things of note happened yesterday, in which I was lucky enough to witness.
The first event was the arrival of a pale male elf and a female elf on a horse. They demanded to see our Lich Lord, Azalin. The male claimed that Azalin severed his life chord and they demanded to see my Lord.
How funny, I thought. They come in here demanding to see him, like he was just hanging around, playing solitaire in the castle. Even I had of yet seen the great Lich Lord (Although that changed that night).
Azalin was not there of course. But their presence did bring out a crowd of curious onlookers. I believe the name of the male was Arathorn and the female, Molly. Arathorn belonged to no guild but Molly belonged to several. She also stated that a long time ago, Caina was her home.
As the crowd grew the taunts increased. Arathorn became arrogant and boastful, claiming that he could free Aleph, who was bound to the chair in Golgotha (I am still learning all the facts, so bear with me).
"Why don't you do it?" came a leering voice from the crowd.
"I cannot right now. I have yet to harnessed the power."
Then the troublemakers appeared. Cedric Mcdougan and his clan, riding on their chickens and acting like overgrown children. As far as I could tell, they were committing no crimes, but they were looking for a fight. I could see it in their swagger and their cocky grins. Besides, everyone knows of their contract on Azalin. If they were not looking for a fight, then why were they there?
Nexus must have been thinking the same thing. As I hid behind a snow dune, I watched as Cedric and his fellow assassins were butchered rather quickly. I guess Cedrics presence alone was enough to fulfill the definition of provoked in Article one of Caina's laws.
The citizens of Caina were now in a rage, like rabid dogs, restless and irrated. It is that moment that a lightbringer came into view. I think it was Gromph of Compassion but I am now sure. The wind and ice were blowing so hard that I had a hard enough time just keeping my eyes open.
A crowd quickly gathered around the stranger, which he thought was unfair and he said so.
"I am not breaking any laws of the city. Why do you harass me," said the weak and old Drow.
I do take issue with the lightbringers claim that Gromph was killed. What I saw was that, although taunted, Gromph was let to go on his way. There was no order to kill him.
I could not help but see his logic but I was also aware of the following factors. Caina is far and out of the way of normal civilization. If you end up in Caina, you want to be there. You do not pass through Caina to get from point A to point B. I believe the citizens of Caina like it like that.
But the forces of darkness have grown very powerful in Sosaria. This is why these strangers stroll through our neighborhoods. No matter how out of the way we are, they abhor our existence, and like mosquitoes, they hope that their unwanted visits will slowly drive us mad.
And it is working. I watched as Nexus ordered his troops to attack the Order of the Grey Fist, although they had already paid for their crimes. I watched as mob mentality quickly swept a crowd of the most powerful mages and warriors in existence, to harass an old weak man. I watched as spells were cast and the zit Hostel was torched.
I am sure that I simply do not understand their ways yet. I did take quiet pleasure in watching Cedric killed and to see a Lightbringer taunted.
I went back to an Inn in Britannia that night. Today I hope to spend gathering reagents.
And what journal entry would be complete without my strange dreams that still possess me.
In this dream, I was a spirit, floating through a vile swamp. I came upon a decaying shack where inside I heard screaming. Inside was a Drow. He had thrown a large vase onto the ground and he sat on his knees, pulling at his hair.
"NNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"
I felt his pain. The pain of being cast out of a guild. The pains of having others take credit for his work. The pain of a lost love and tonight, the pain of being defeated in battle. I savored his pain. He felt that he was treated unfairly. I remember seeing the Drow in Caina. He was one of the Grey Fist. As a spirit, I looked upon the sign on his house. His name was Aerios.
Then the dream shifted. It might have been to the past or the future. But the Drow now stood on the snowy ground of Caina. He stood around corpses, some on fire, some already covered in the falling snow.
Chapter 7
From the journal of Dragonia:
Sunday. The spirit came to see me again. Was it the wind in through the leaves or was it the spirit that spoke? I focused my energy on the underworld and soon I saw my spirit friend. "Go Dragonia . . .Go to your mentor."
I know now where I must go. It seems that for every time he calls me, I am on the other side of the world. I sigh, pack up my things and begin the treacherous journey to the Corrupted Shrine of Spirituality.
My master, my trainer, he beckons me to go to the Dungeon of Covetous to reclaim the sword that my murdered friend wrote about. He warned me though of its dangers. Harpies, Gazers, and headless ones.
I swallowed and bowed. "Yes, my Lord."
I spent the next day gathering the tools I would need to make the journey through the dungeon. I have never even been in a dungeon and now I am expected to march in one and grab a sword?
I do not have much time to write so let me spell out my failures in short sentences. My first attempt was a failure. While my experience and sometimes foolhardy braver is match for one harpy, it is not for five.
On my second attempt I made a mad dash through the dungeon, tripping over rocks, and coming face to face with startled Harpies, their wings flapping, and their sagging breast swaying as they quickly overcome their surprise to attack me.
I made it to the passage beyond the first portion of the dungeon and as I rested and tended my wounds, a spirit I have never seen appeared.
"Yes, you are the one."
"Spirit, " I asked, "I have never seen you before. What is it you wish of me?"
"I am the spirit of the sword. This sword, Dragonia, was destined to go to one of greatness. My senses also tell me that the messenger that will deliver this sword to him is also destined for greatness. I may rest now. Take thy sword so I may now rest."
The spirit turned ethereal and dissipated into the mist of the cave, leaving me with a large magical sword.
I am no expert on weapons but I have seen this sword in my dreams. It is a sword with a dark soul and the power to raise the dead. I grabbed my sword and prepared to make the dash back out the dungeon when I was attacked by a group of harpies. I fought and tried to escape and was amazed at the deep slices the sword produced.
Where had the harpies come from? I thought I was safe in the cave. I think they were after the sword . . .and sure enough, after they slew me down, they took nothing but the sword and flew off to some unknown master.
And now a week later . . . I have spent one too many days in the mountains overlooking Caina, climbing as high as I dare, finding a rocky crevice and setting up camp. From there I can sit by myself, enjoying the view of the city when the clouds clear (which is not often) and thinking about my failure in my quest.
While I might be a poor servant for the skull, I can make a good camp. Using blocks of ice, my tent, and the surrounding rock, I can make a shelter that is so warm that I have to remove my heavy wool Robe to cool down.
The howling of the wind drowns out my thoughts sometimes and when the clouds come rolling in like a tidal wave, it swallows my thoughts and the self-doubt that goes with it. I shiver and get goose bumps but the momentary lapse of guilt is refreshing.
I spend some time as well studying my spell book. I have so many spells that I do not know. Not only do I not know them, they are completely incomprehensible to me. How do they understand some of these works? Who was the one who developed such complex and powerful magic?
This question brings me to my next line of thought: Why has there not been developments in Magery in the last 100 years? Have we reached a saturation point? Is there a limit to knowledge?
My dreams seem to tell me that there is not. In my dreams I see many spells being cast that I have never seen before. I see the ambition of the skull spreading Caina and the spirit of the anti-virtues through out Sosaria.
I also had a sickening dream of Aleph being reunited with his pale and malnourished wife, Azrielle. I saw him hold his child for the first time. While watching the scene as a specter produced such disgust in me, my eyes were still drawn to the child. While at first it seemed that the child was small and normal, suddenly the babe was covered in a shining golden light that blinded me. I covered my face in pain and agony and I then awoke with a great headache that only a sip of strong ale and some magic could dull.
I also dream of many of the anti-virtues. They take various forms and shapes in my dreams but I have learned to recognize many of them. Anti-virtues such as Deceit, Despise, Covetous, Shame, Pride, and others I do not yet recognize. All serving the causes of Oblivion and Entropy.
Is lust an anti-virtue, I wonder to myself? He plays a powerful role in my dreams, one that is quite satisfying. If it is not an anti-virtue, it should be. And there is one dream that recurs again and again, haunting me . . . punishing me. I failed in my quest. I had lost the sword. In my nightmares, I relived my death by the shrieking Harpies over and over again and in the corner of the cave, laughing at me, Shame.
From up here in the mountain, I notice that the snow on the ground of Caina is not pure white. It is darkened and impure, probably from the hundreds of chimneys, steaming out their dark soot. It is such a beautiful sight. My love and loyalty to it and Oblivion is of a strength that only a loyal slave can know.
Conclusion
This is all that I have for now of Dragonia's younger human years. I shall include the rest of her history with a complete works of the history of the skull. I am also working on a separate work describing her history with the orcs. There is a lesson to be learned by this part of her life though. Monsters do not always come in the form that we sometimes think. Evil in the form of beauty and innocence is often the most horrifying.
Master Scholar Nahman