(https://i.imgur.com/POW1pYU.jpg)
*The note is written in a fine, trained hand, clearly suggesting practice from a very young age*
The Returning
I have given up my search for Serro. In the future I may take it up again, but for now I am at a loss. No one that I have spoken to since has seen or heard anything about him. This, sadly, comes as no surprise to me, given the nature of that damnable fool. Slippery as ever.
It is just as well that I have returned home now, as I have been greeted by some disturbing tales. My old friend and comrade, Fjord "The Big Man", informed me of the perils falling on Hadrian lately. An eerie mist appears to have been appearing in the wake of the Roz'dha Enclave crash, and where it billows, the dead follow. Too many were lost in that war to even want to think on it, but I know it is inevitable. Combining this fear with the recent Balor's attack on the city itself is borderline unthinkable.
With this in mind I have sent out missives to distant members of the Adventurer's Society, apprising them of the situation. Belorfin and Morgaine are both present, for which I eternally grateful. Our Red Lady, Morgaine, holds the title of Mayor now, and as such, she cannot vote at our council, though she still sits and participates in our discussion. As radiant as ever, she continues to serve this city far better than the rest of us could ever hope to. Belorfin on the other hand, is as prickly as ever. I am told he became snippy with an eccentric little Elfling by the name of Fae. Young-spirited and pretty, Fae has a peculiarity about her, but I like her well enough. She seems to be a good friend of Fjord, and I'm not entirely sure that there isn't something going on there. That being said, I'm almost positive the same is true for he and The Red Lady. They continue to be quite close, but it's impossible to tell because the damned fool never fucking says anything. I've given up trying to figure him out, and I'm settling for just having him as a warrior by my side.... and a damned good one, at that.
Thinking of those two, I had been hunting a treasure with a small party when we entered a cave. Coincidentally, we had found Morgaine, Fjord, Michael, and Sherina all standing over the body of a slain Fae. Michael, it seems, became angry and slew Fae over an insult to his wife, Sherina. Michael is a troubled man but there is something quite strange about the circumstances of this event. From the moment I arrived, Michael was pleading guilty and practically begging for death. The Red Lady asked me to take care of the situation in her stead. I obliged. Michael seemed not himself. He was seeing shadows and enemies where none were present. I gave him the choice to plead his case before the courts, as per the law, or I would damn the law and give him the execution that he desired. This was a grim moment. I had no desire to kill the man, but his assumption that if found guilty the 14th would torture and kill him, was likely fair. In the end, Sherina was able to convince him to plead his case to the judge. Good that she had, as he ended up living, (largely thanks to a revived, if a little out of it, Fae) with a fair punishment; something rare, these days.
I have taken interest in the development of Michael and Sherina. In a way, I see mirrors of my own life reflected in them. I have met with both of them in private, and I believe there is great value in their presence, here in the city. Sherina seems quite skilled in reigning him in, and I hope with everything that I have in me, that she can fix him. Unexpectedly, Sherina has become a good friend to me. She shows understanding in certain areas that I would never have expected. I shared things that I thought I'd never tell another soul. I had been drinking and she said somethings that resonated with my own past and I couldn't help it. I showed her your ring, to let her know that there are others that have faced similar struggles. We have been good friends ever since and I will do everything within my power to help her and Michael succeed. I offered them protection with the Society, and I hope that before anything, they would come to me for aid. They will likely be troubled for more time to come, but that is a story that I do not feel comfortable putting down on paper, at this time. It is enough to count them as friends and comrades, whether they choose to join us, or not.
These days to come will bear more strife, of that I am sure, but it is in the Darkest days that House Aardyn shines.
Though others may cower in the dark, We shall always embrace it.
Aardyn
P.S.
I won the competition for the naming of the penguins. "Icarus and Emilia"; Names that I borrowed from an old book that madam Kryck made me read as a boy. Funny, I recall saying I would never use that information.
Council and Beyond
I called a council meeting, to check on the state of affairs, as well as discuss new recruits. It felt good to have the Society working together again, though the fact that we need the Society at all speaks volumes towards the state of this land.
Firstly, the membership of the one they call Celeb was expedited by unanimous vote, due to her circumstances in relation to the Red Lady. I confess I don't know her very well but it seems like everyone I trust speaks well of her. Morgaine was certainly prepared to vote in favour, and Belly had no objections to her application. She was instated immediately and, despite my lack of familiarity, I have high hopes for her future with us at the Society.
The second name put forward was that of Sherina. This one was slightly more complicated. There are certain circumstances that have raised the brow of one of our council members. This hasn't elicited a "No" but rather a provisional "Yes", pending a hearing. Her shadow situation and her history, I will admit, causes somewhat of a concern, though I am confident that what comes out at the hearing will speak to her character. I will have to speak with her to address the matter, personally. I don't want this to feel like a trial, but rather an opening of the situation. It is because I would prefer membership go through unanimously, that I proposed the idea of having her speak. In the end, I am sure it will go through.
The rest of the council was spent discussing the hunt for Voust. We brought in Chud and it seems he is willing to work with us. We discussed areas we'd like to explore but have no major leads, as of yet. To that point, I feel I may have made a reckless decision. A decision that you no doubt would have scolded me for. I went to the abyss, within the crypts, to think on you again. While down there I had a thought. I am aware of the Beholder that shares the abyss. Seeing the amount of dead that walked it's halls, I thought that I could perhaps cut a deal for information on Voust. I have never been so shaken in my life. I had thought that casting clarity on myself before hand would seem confrontational. I was stupid. The moment I entered it's room, I felt it in me. It urged me to approach the edge. It urged me to jump into the Darkness and it felt so right. I was able to resist for a while, and after some conversation, I was told that in order for aid I would have to present it's master, Moander, with a siginificant offering of flesh. Flesh of a beast of value.
Shortly afterwards I felt it creep into my mind again. It showed me how little will I had to live. With my own hand I pulled out my dagger, brought it to my own neck and began to cut. I have a scar on my neck now. Fortunately, a new scar for me isn't exactly rare. I will play it off as a close call, should anyone ask. In the meantime, I need to consider the deal that was offered, and decide who I will tell about th.......
*The note abruptly cuts off as if interrupted*
Where Settled Dusts Lie
She is bound to the stake, dressed all in black.
I look down on the village, as we crest the hill. Its people meander about as their day’s work nears it’s end. I can’t help but notice my own shadow elongate down the hillside, cast by the setting sun on our backs.
Prideful, her head is held high, though she sneers back at them, half-angry, half-afraid.
There, I see the shadow of father, my brother, and the countless others who join us. They are looming, ominous tendrils, reaching out; a dark herald for what is to come.
Beneath her, a pyre. The crowd gathers around her, each one of them vying for the best view.
One by one, the unsuspecting insects halt in their place, no doubt peering toward the line of silhouettes along the ridge. They see us. They are meant to. We want them to see, and know. We want them to fear the Dark.
They throw various objects at her, cast their scathing words at her, and some parade around with tokens from her now slain guard.
I look to my brother; his silent visor gazes back. I look to my father; he is silently watching the pitiful village’s movements progress from a stunned halt, to a panicked scurrying. I follow his gaze and can feel the rage burning hot and deep within my heart.
She curses them, her voice acid, swearing by Shar that they’ll be destroyed. This fuels the rage of the Selûnites. Their fervor amplifies.
With his familiar sneer of disdain and wrath, I watch my father take up his black helm from under his arm and deposit it onto his head. He draws his sword; as one, every man follows suit.
The official, dressed in his ceremonial garb, approaches her; his torch already burning.
Leveling the tip of his blade toward the town, my father bellows a command, and is answered by a united raucous roar from the battalion on the hill. I wait, eyes blazing, for the first step of his horse. It comes.
She is afraid. Tears flow as she trembles, whispering near-silent prayers to her Goddess for a protection she knows will never come.
I grit my teeth with violent wrath, as I overtake my father’s steed. I relish the fear emanating from the frantic denizens, as House Aardyn and its sworn swords descends on them with a deafening roar.
The man speaks some words of righteousness, as he begins to lower the torch to the base of the pyre.
I make sure I am the first to reach my victims. My closest friends galloping on my flanks; a staple in the battle exploits of Mad Ash the Black. It is effective. Their resistance is sickeningly poor, and we cut through the first defenders like a hot knife through butter.
The flames spread through the brush, igniting the larger logs and inching closer to the uselessly squirming woman.
A man turns his head in fear, at the sight of the slaughter. I remove it entirely, for him. The next one drops his spear and shelters his head in fear. A fatal slash across his side, releasing his entrails, will suffice. A woman and child run for the shelter of a small alleyway. I let them pass. They all must and will die, I know, but though I am an Aardyn first, I am a knight second. My sword is reserved for the armed defenders. Plenty among us are not bound by such honours. The fleeing do not last long.
The inferno melts the fabrics of her dress and her legs now smoke, as her wails of pain and agony resound in the night.
The bulk of the village is mopped up before twilight, succumbing pitifully to the raging tide of vengeance. A banner carrier rides through town. This time it isn’t the banner of House Aardyn, but that of Shar. Though we are not Sharran, it is fitting for this task; she’d have wanted it that way. He falls into formation as my father and I approach the clearing near the outside of town.
The shrieking turns to a sickening gurgle, and eventually comes to an end; the only sound, the crackling and pops of the raging fire.
As I approach, I see scorched earth. A regular burn site, clad with the tell-tale stakes of execution by fire. It has been sometime since it was used, but the scene speaks of such actions not being a rarity.
Licking and lashing, the pyre burns until morning; the putrid stench of cooked human flesh long gone, as the sun rises on the smoldering heap
For two years, I wondered. For two years I searched and scoured. For two years I burned with a pain I have, as yet, not found words to describe. I reach the pyre site and fall to knee, as the smell of the village burning fills the air. I reach down, removing my glove, and scoop the dirt and dust into my palm. I stare at it a moment; that familiar dead feeling inside leaving me, being replaced with unquenchable pain and anger. I touch it to my mouth and speak one word.
As I awoke in a cold sweat, to find myself l laying in my bunk in the Society Hall, I find myself crying out the word in unison with my dream-self.
“Mother”