Personal Journal - Baroque

Day one:
Freedom at last. Yet somehow it is more empty than a forge without a fire. I remain trapped within my own head, as the demonic nightmares plague me still. Such horrible crimes I have committed, and the blood of so many now stains my soul. Although the Twelve Fore-Fathers have forgiven me, I shall never forgive myself.

And what small victory have I attained? A dwarf who has never handled a crossbow or forged a weapon. My only real skills are breaking rocks with a great hammer and carving stone with a chisel.

The soul hardens considerably in two centuries of confinement, and I no longer remember how to act around others, or how to interact with others. The only thing I have learned is a lot of patience.

Day two:
A close encounter with a patrol, and I jumped down a steep slope to escape their axes and bolts. I was lucky to survive, but I have lost my pack. I have been shot several times, and I now have nothing except a few small items, and a bolt through my shoulder. As I fled, I begged the Fore-Fathers for a sign I am meant to live, and I suddenly found myself able to heal my wounds to an extent I have never believed possible outside of mythical stories. Despite my new-found divine healing ability, there is one bolt I am unable to remove from my shoulder.

Day four:
Although I was able to heal my last remaining wound, I am feverish. As if in answer to my prayers, I was able to create enough water to continue my journey. Although delirious, I am forcing myself to travel daily, and only my faith has brought me this far.

Day five:
I have followed the river down to a green, forested land, and I am clear of the Rhul Empire. Where shall I go from here?

Day six
I had the usual dream last night, in which I was in an ancient dwarven vault. I removed a sacred ward-stone expecting to find something valuable beyond, but instead demons flooded through from beyond and attacked me. Shamefully, I ran in terror until cornered. With only my stone-breaking hammer at hand, I fought back bravely until all were dead or fleeing. This time, though, something was different…

…I awakened to find myself in a small and unfamiliar campsite with goblin bodies all around, clearly killed by massive hammer strikes to the head and chest. Did I do this? How did I get here?

To the South of the campsite, twelve polished stones are imbedded firmly in the ground as though placed there. On one such stone, the dwarven word for penance is inscribed. Although it is possible I am still hallucinating due to my fever, I have taken this as a sign that the fathers wish me to travel South down the river. I have salvaged some basic equipment and a sapphire ring from the dead goblins.

Day seven:
Found a strange…raining very hard, I …….read this….wet…and…sickly, dying…so far to end….this?
[most of the entry is unreadable due to water stains[

Day eight:
Blessed be the Fathers! I have found civilization, and what’s more, my fever is finally gone. The Cygnaran I gleaned from the tomes of my former residence (I shudder to even think of it) came in handy, as I was able to learn that the town of Corvis still exists after all these years, less than a day South of here.

…I have entered Corvis. As I stood outside a small church of Dwarven construction, I marvelled at the skill. Seeing my wounded state, a Cleric offered his assistance and asked my name. I must have been muttering to myself, for a cleric addressed me as “Baroque” and offered assistance. I have now taken this as my pseudo-name, since revealing my true name would result in my immediate arrest and imprisonment. I don’t think the humans can tell one dwarf from another, much less pick me out of a crowd based upon a description. I just sold the goblins’ sapphire ring for 6 platinum coins but there is one problem…as I haven’t handled money in two centuries, I’m not too sure how much money that is. Regardless, I think I will enjoy my stay in Corvis.

Day nine:
I hate it here, and I want out immediately. This is not the Corvis I remember visiting when I was a young beardling. Towers hundreds of hands high and wooden building built higher and more closely together than I would ever have thought possible. The place reeks of sewage cast into the streets, there is barely a carving or a statue to be seen, and carts speed recklessly down the streets indifferent to the pedestrians they endanger. As well, there seems to be two local police forces, and the more militant “Inquisition” appears to be arresting people at an ungodly rate. For entertainment, the humans torture and kill one another in the town square.

How can humans live like this? With lives as short as theirs, you’d think they’d at least try to enjoy what little time they have. Despite their massive city, these humans are as primitive and brutal as Orcs or Goblins. It is no wonder they’ve never produced any artwork or carvings worth looking at - they probably never stopped killing each other long enough. I’ve found an inn to spend the night in and get a meal…I wasn’t sure if Five Platinum coins would be enough, but apparently it was enough to stay for the whole weekend. I have no idea where I’ll stay after that, as I have little gold left.

Day ten:
A very helpful Halfling helped me find my way around the city today. This was very informative, although I think someone stole my remaining gold somehow. I can’t believe dwarves walk around this place like nothing is wrong - can’t they see the danger and death occurring around them. I also learned that the humans have been arresting the musicians and artists - perhaps that is why the carvings are so poor in this city. Perhaps I can gain employment sculpting figures or gargoyles until I gather enough gold to leave the city. I hate this place…the crowds and the confined spaces make it feel like a prison.

Day eleven:
I had the strangest dream last night. Not the usual demon-dream, but a sense of overwhelming peace as I stood before a giant tree. The tree took me into its embrace, and the Fore-Fathers looked on with approval. When I awakened at dawn-break, I found a circular tattoo on the underside of my right wrist with a green leaf in the middle. (am I still dreaming??) Several days ago, I sensed a very good aura as I passed the Church of Morrow. I will return there today to seek answers and clarity.

Day thirteen:
I have met some strange companions indeed, and the past two days have been a blur! I finally got the chance to fight with real demons and win, and for the first time in a long time, I slept through a night without dreams of pain and horror. Although I feel a desire to be close to these warriors, I know not how to interact with them, and feel like an outsider. Clearly, my years of silence are working against me; although these warriors respect my magic and my powers over the undead, I find myself at a loss for words whenever I attempt to communicate with them. I feel like a stranger at a social gathering, and I can’t help but feel that they consider me an outsider. It probably doesn’t help that I don’t understand the impulsive emotions of the younger races. It frustrates me to see them kill and love with wild abandon, as though these things meant nothing! Clearly I have spent too many years in the company of silent stone walls, and too few years in the company of real people I can trust. Perhaps this, too, is part of the penance I must pay.

The most positive thing I observed was a sense of teamwork, offering life, and even death to one another as needed…and fortunately no Sorcerers or Wizards. They are a curious lot:

Elezain - Rather than let poor Vlad fall under the influence of the undead, Elezain acted decisively to save Vlad from this fate. Although the ‘beast’ had difficulty understanding Eli’s decision to destroy Vlad, I should re-assure him that he did the right thing. I would expect him to do the same for me, were I in Vlad’s position.

Vlad - We shall all remember Vlad for his enthusiasm and his Charisma…let his sacrifice not be forgotten. By the sounds of things, he was not the first to fall, and likely will not be the last, either. If humans had souls, I would pray that the Fore-Fathers would lead his into the great halls of the afterlife, that he may experience comfort and peace that he never experienced during his short life.

Lorn - This is the strangest looking Elf I’ve ever seen…and how he fights so well without armor or weapons is beyond me! It is as though an invisible shield were protecting him.

Oolarock - a beast with some conscience, but mostly out of control. Given his heritage, this is forgivable, I suppose. Like myself, he seems a bit of a silent outcast, useful for his skills, but mostly forgotten.

Jurdol - A cleric with a good heart, but one who should stick to spells rather than combat. My ribs still ache from his accidental (and near fatal) blow. But, then again, I have the experience of swinging a hammer for a lot longer than he - perhaps a hundred years of so of breaking rocks would steady his aim.

Sasha - By the beards of the Fore-Fathers, this man is dangerous. Without ever drawing his weapon, his antics and passions could surely crumble an empire. Just as curiosity killed the cat, surely it will be this human’s impulsiveness that kills our noble party. Also, although I don’t yet know him well enough to criticize him, he seemed more interesting in playing music than fighting when our backs were against the wall. I don’t trust him one bit. Also, I can’t put my hammer on it at the moment, but there’s something a little “odd” about his music.

Regardless of the challenges I face here, I finally have a sense of peace and purpose. I will gladly add my own life to the terrible toll already paid by this brave group of comrades. Something deep within tells me that although I have caused the deaths of many dwarves, it is here in the world of men that I will atone for my crimes.

Although I am two hundred and sixty two years old, I feel like a young beardling, leaving the walls of his forge-home for the first time. I lament the lost years, and I wish I could tell my father that I am okay.

I feel I can never return to Rhul. Perhaps, in time, I will find a new family here.

Note: I should write a letter home, to let my father know I’m alive. He won’t be proud of me, but there are things I’ve longed to say to him that I will never be able to say in person.

 

A letter home to Rulic Fireheart, High Priest of Rhul

Rulic Fireheart,
High Priest of Rhul
Halls of the Fore-Fathers
City of Ghord, pride of Rhul

You do not know me, for I was never a priest when I lived in the lands of Rhul. My divine link came to me only as I entered the lands of humans. Know, however, that although I am a despised criminal within Rhul, my loyalty to Rhul and her people remains strong.

I am sending this brief summary of my journal to the most honorable high priests of the Forefathers, that they may better understand the events in the world of the humans. I fear that our people have ignored the lesser races for far too long, to our own detriment. We neglect to keep ourselves informed of the worldly affairs of the humans, and thus we are too slow to take a meaningful role in their affairs until our own people are threatened.

As a young beardling, I had no idea of the sorcerous forces wielded by the outside world. While I knew it was wrong to allow a group of humans into our most secret and most forbidden tunnels, I was ignorant of the horrors that they would unleash upon our people. I deserve the fate I have cheated and more. I was the agent that allowed the humans to unleash the greatest of evils, and so many good dwarves died driving off this evil.

If the Moot will not listen, it is my hope that the clergy will. Thus I will be sending whatever meaningful information I can from my own experiences in the world of humans. It appears that there is a great evil at work here. It is clear that my own small band of friends is powerless to stand against this evil, and so our own people must act. It is no longer enough to merely wait behind our walls of stone.

I have one other request. My crimes have been placed before the Moot, and they sentenced me to a life of imprisonment and labor in accordance with Codex law. In escaping, I have defied their sentence after serving a mere two centuries imprisoned. Yet my crimes still weigh more heavily upon me than any shackle or chain ever could.

I therefore humbly request my case be tried before the most sacred judgment of the Highest Courts of the Forefathers instead. I shall accept any finding you come to, and I shall obey any commandment you make of me. I shall return to Rhul and submit myself to the mercies of the Moot once again, if you so order.

I shall not further dishonor my family by using the name taken from me according to our law. That much of my sentence I shall continue to endure as penance for my sins. May the fathers always offer you wisdom and strength.

Your humble servant in exile,

Baroque
[Envelope sealed with signet-ring]

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From the pages of Baroque's Journal (a summary)

Day 12 to Day ??? (April 9 to April ??? approx)

Much has happened in the three weeks since my escape from Rhul.

It appears that the city of Corvis is threatened both from without and from within. The ruling and military clans have been dominated by a group known as the Inquisition, which seeks to repress artistic expression and religion. From without, the city is threatened by an army of roughly 1000 demon-warriors known as "the Skorne" to the East, and by an army of paladins, clerics, and mechanized warriors (War-Jacks) from the South.

I have met a small band of Human and Elvish heroes calling themselves the "Children of Eldamar". They claim to be protected by a tree-god of some sort, and by the human god "Morrow", but their gods are clearly powerless to protect them. Of the 6 Children of Eldamar I originally met just one week ago, 3 now lie dead and one has turned from their cause. Still, their intentions are brave and honorable, and I shall soon offer my own life to the terrible price they have already paid. In a way this would be a welcome relief from the nightmare my life has been for the last two centuries. I have also witnessed the death one of the more famous weapon-smiths to leave our lands - one Gibson Dunhammer. He died as he lived - with dedication and passion as he fought against the "Skorne".

Now only Oolarok and Sasha remain of Eldamar's chosen ones, and I am the only of noble race amongst them. Oolarok is a formidable warrior who is more Orc than Man, one who has a conscience but gives in too easily and too often to his more beastly side.
Sasha is a human bard of great skill, but his grip on reality has clearly slipped with the telling of so many fanciful stories. Yet I will travel with them and serve them, for their cause is just, and they are still better than I in that they have committed no crime of any consequence.

I fear that all the human gods have fallen aside, and that the shadow - the "demon-destroyer" (whatever that is) shall turn its eye upon Rhul once the human lands have fallen. As the elder race, it is the responsibility of our rulers and our gods to assist in the defeat of the demon-destroyer. I feel that my place here may be to be the eyes and ears of the Clergy of the Fore-Fathers.

I will continue to keep you apprised of what meager information I gather, and before sending this letter I will also enclose a brief synopsis of my allies' journals if they will allow it.

I shall continue to update you on any further information I gather.

May the Fore-Fathers make me their hammer to forge their will upon the world …

-Baroque