The Journal of Sol'thas Dwin'saen

[Witch Hunter]

*You now hold in your hands an old leather bound journal, clearly of great age; the common design has long since warped with time... the dye has faded and the metal plates screwed to the sides are battered and rusty. Within the journal many pages are torn and damaged, yet mostly preserved enough to read. The dates on the journal date at least six hundred years ago to what you know only as "The Dark Ages"...you open to the first page and realize it is written entirely in Elven, the scripture neat and flowing as typical to this language and race*
 
 
 
 
 [INDENT]

My Travels
Sol'thas of house Dwin'sean of lake Korirath
In memory of my family and friends who died
May their soul find peace in the great cycle

~

[/INDENT]

"Life... is what you make it, it can be as bright as the sun so long forgotten or dark as the blackest shadow that haunts our precious skies... life is what we make it, our choices shape our path and our path reflects our future, whatever it may be."

 [INDENT]

~.1414.~

[/INDENT]

[Witch Hunter]

[INDENT]A Dying Land
Winged Trade, The 13th of Winter Deep, 1414.[/INDENT]
 
 [INDENT]

Fe'ra was as right, this land is suffering. Like an old diseased man or a child born in vain - this land is dying. A land where undead roam freely in crypts and beyond, a land where hungry wolves stalk the forest, men and women wither from the crippling skies and famine and disease are everywhere to be found... It whispers, like a fading cry of a tormenting wraith... familiar in a sense, the cry of the dying seeking life, longing to feel whole once more - longing to be released, a feeling I am all too familiar with. a dying land. My lord the Life Givers touch will do well to heal whats dying, perhaps... if they please so.[/SIZE][/FONT]

[/INDENT]
 [INDENT]

I awoke to the sight of cold stone walls and a human greeting me with with a puzzled glare... He was of old age yet healthy and mannered. He spoke a tongue I did not speak in many moons, the human tongue - the common tongue. It seems my childhood teachings finally paid off and I was able to understand him. We spoke for a few hours and he explained me my whereabouts, a castle named Blackford in the North of Mistone. he was rather curious to see an Elf venture from Voltrex... a rare sight he said, yet not unheard of - Perhaps I am to meet more.[/FONT]

[/INDENT]
[INDENT]He urged me to make my way to the south; to a city known as Hempstead, a hub of sorts according to him. Having nothing else to do I decided to follow his advise and joined a following caravan to my destination. The company of humans is odd, untrusting and cold; yet refreshing and new in a sense. I did my best to keep my manners at hand, not a single word escaped my mouth other than my thanks. The sights on the road so very different than our own. Our trees are greener, perhaps emerald in color whilst here they are fading green; much like the rotting skin of death, our water crystal clear even with midnight skies to greet our face at noon yet here... murky, damp... disgusting to a degree. there is much healing to be done... Much curing to a dying land.[/INDENT] [INDENT]Hempstead was nothing as I expected it to be, the pictures these awful roads painted in my mud were no better than a cluster of mud huts... yet I was greeted by towering white-stone walls, dwarfing the desperation of the outside world with ease (yet not as impressive as Elven craftsmanship). A bastion of sanity within a land of insanity, I will do well to settle here for now.[/INDENT] [INDENT]There is much to be done... much.
~Sol.[/INDENT]

[Witch Hunter]

[INDENT]Evocation of Faith
Dead Eye, The 14th of Spring Blossom, 1414.[/INDENT]
 
[INDENT]The evocation of faith is not bought by deeds of gods... not by display of our deities power as many might think, not by preaching the religious aspects of our faith. I've watch, observing... ever keen to the cries of those around me in these dark forbidden times; so many lost due to failure in our clergy. Still we wield our gods gift as if it was the only reason to believe... as if the display of power is impressive enough to fall into submission and believe in Aeridin.[/INDENT]
[/FONT] [INDENT]That is not how faith should be, and even I with my defiance as Fe'ra dubbed it... my rebellion against my own god and my life, my faith... even I know this. If I am to spread the word of the Life Giver to these lands it will not be by channeling his powers... It will not be by standing in the town square yelling like a fanatic; words so pointless to those who simply do not care. Not by calling upon his divine gift to heal the wounded.[/INDENT] [INDENT]If I am to spread the word of the Life Giver... to evoke faith within the hearts of the hopeless... I am to do so with my own abilities, my own acquired skills and not the power he sought to grant me... or the powers she sought to teach me. Such is faith in its raw and pure form, beholding those whom are masters of themselves follow the path of Aeridin to aid others... Not those who are servants of a god following for no better cause than themselves... be I one for now, regardless.[/INDENT] [INDENT]I watch them listen to bards chant, how hope is invoked so easily to the melodies and harmony of sound yet when a priest steps forward do they frown and sigh. And she wondered why I never considered myself a priest?... But I am no bard, my skills beyond healing are not impressive and I am dull person. Then perhaps it is time for me to learn a new method of hope... For that is the only way my Life Giver will be heard. [/INDENT]
 [INDENT]Faith is only relevant to those with hope, not the other way around.
~Sol.[/INDENT]

[Witch Hunter]

[INDENT] A Tale&Song for Every Soul
 Night's Eye, The 24th of Summer End, 1414.
[/INDENT] [INDENT] I walk among books, tales and songs of flesh and mind... Each person bearing the weight of a thousand words to describe their life, each person bearing a history of their own... a ballad of his deeds or a whisper of his woe and even I, somewhere, have a tale to tell... As lifeless and hollow it may be. Each day I write a new paragraph in my book like a tedious scribe; eyes my ink and steps my quill... I write more and more.
 
 I write about nothing. I write empty words and blank promises... I write about what fills the void I've...experienced... for a lack of a better term - since the death of my family, the death of La'ra and all I held dear. And for what point or cause do I continue this.. fraction of former life? Aeridin knows my cause, he helps me fulfill it with his precious light, his gift... to heal.
[/INDENT] [INDENT]I write about healing; I write about healing others rather than myself... promises made for a better life or a better understanding of faith, faith evoked with health and care. Health and care I've experienced since the death of my family, the death of La'ra and all I held dear. And by whom? Aeridin.... he knows my pain, he helps me preserve myself with his precious light... his gift... the sun.[/INDENT] [INDENT]I write about the sun, I write about how I long for its majestic gaze to remind me of old times... within green fields and lush forests, crystal rivers and marble cities... Everything I've experienced before the death of my family, the death of La'ra and all I held dear. All that remains now is memories... and faith... And in whom do I believe?... You, you are my memories and faith, you gaze upon me like the sun and you heal, if but a little, you heal...Aeridin.[/INDENT] [INDENT] I write about Aeridin.
 ~Sol.
[/INDENT]

[Witch Hunter]

[INDENT]

Whistling in the Dark
Night's Eye, The 17th of Winter Deep, 1415.

[/INDENT]
 [INDENT]Have you ever heard a deep voice?... so deep it has no meaning, so strong yet it is weak, so loud yet no one else can hear it... Such a voice calls, it whispers and it shouts yet makes no sound... it draws you to it's grasp in the unknown, in the dark... it cries, no - it asks for help. And you answer, it is your calling to answer, your obligation. I heard it, or at least I think I did... I felt it yet my hands touched nothing... and I followed it, the voice - the whisper in the dark.[/INDENT]
 [INDENT]I was walking through the outskirts of Hempstead; admiring the majestic forests of Dapplegreen (Those that remind me so much of home...) when I felt that tingle... the cry, the voice or whatever you may call it. It urged me to come to it yet it was nowhere. I walked with no destination. And as it grew stronger I grew weaker... My mind was failing and soon everything was an illusion, a dream.

I faded into chaotic imagery of my former home; of my family and old friends, of forests I forgot and waters I felt so long ago... I gave in, these feelings, emotions and imagery... Like an ecstasy of bliss. I fought to keep reality in hand, who I am, what I am... who I serve... but it was all in vain, I gave in.[/INDENT]
 [INDENT]

But as the nature of bliss it did not last long.

I woke up among people, among strangers and a few familiar faces. we were in the shadow of the great walls of a place I later learned to be Fort Homestead, south of Wolfswood on the continent of Alindor. How, when or why did I get here I do not know. nor do I wish to.... knowing is a paradox of insight.

[/INDENT]
[/FONT] [INDENT]And there he stood, between the grand gates of Homestead; the source of the whistling, of the voice and of the call... a spirit, perhaps, silent as the grave yet whistling so many quiet words. what did he want? who was he?... he toyed with us for long time, trying to explain or perhaps not even trying, rather enjoying the game.... Many that were there seemed to know who he was, or assume - I was among the ignorant.[/INDENT]
[INDENT]

Like all games his came to an end as well and he vanished... suddenly we heard a scream from the southern forests, loud and terrible. We rushed after the voices to an orphanage of sorts, not far from the city itself; full of children and they all cried out... claiming the earth just swallowed one whole. [/FONT]

[/INDENT]
 [INDENT]Our investigations began... No one quite certain why we're there yet.
Mine was with the earth, the connection I feel to it through Aeridin. It spoke to me through his voice, his guidance... The earth was uneasy, it was sad and frustrated; why I wondered? The children and their ward were scared and better of our group urged them into their house so we may further investigate. They left, creating a heart touching scene of course.

[/FONT]But something about the children was wrong, terribly wrong... [/INDENT]
 
 ((To be continued after the next session of Elemental Mystery))