Ciarán Ó Dálaigh
Ciarán Ó Dálaigh
Hailing from Odesloe in the Western part of the Dwendalian Empire, Ciarán had been a solider in his younger years before meeting his wife. He was a member of the Righteous Brand and served on an elite frontline that would be perilously sent in to decimate enemy troops. He had many close calls, but he always managed to escape death.
in between campaigns he fell in love, a woman from his village named Róisín. They were married quickly, because he was soon to be sent on another campaign.
While serving, Ciarán received a letter from Róisín: she was pregnant! After another scrape with death, Ciarán knew that he had to preserve his life so he could return to provide for his family. However, his sense of duty would not allow him to desert the campaign, and so he requested to be transferred to the medicinal corps.
Soon, their son Fionn was born. He was instantly the second love of Ciarán's life. When Ciarán was home on leave, he would spend every moment he could by Fionn's side. And there would be much sadness when Ciarán was due to leave again.
In time, Ciarán and his family aged. Fionn was now 13, and life was fleeting. After the fall of Ashguard Garrison, Ciarán was honored for his service and discharged, and he returned home to spend his days in retirement with his loving family.
Shortly after, disaster struck. His son was taken by Goblins. A beautiful life was taken from Ciarán and Róisín, just as they were granted it. Now, Ciarán has vowed to use his particular set of skills to get his son back, or make those responsible pay, whatever it takes.
Ciarán was a soldier and a medic for many years. Now, his son Fionn has been taken by Goblins. He has vowed to use his particular set of skills to get his son back, or make those responsible pay, whatever it takes.
View Character Profile
Alignment
Lawful Neutral
Age
43
Date of Birth
793 PD
Children
Gender
Male
Eyes
Green
Hair
Greying brown
Height
5'10"
Weight
185 lbs
Regret Makes Heavy Baggage
16th of Quen'pillar 836 PD
We set out in the morning to make the climb to the mountain known here as "the Betrayer's Rise." With such a name as this, we should have known that it was foolish. We all carried such different motivations with us, so it should come as no surprise that this would end in loss and a final goodbye.
We were contracted to enter an ancient temple and retrieve pieces of Rhudium for a proclaimed scientist of some consortium. We accepted, myself included, despite my worry that this would be at best a distraction and at worst injurious. We heard nothing all too helpful (and even less that was hopeful) about our expedition. And so we set out from the inn with only our wits and a few spare potions from the infirmary.
There was an ancient, stone stairway that led upward to the temple embedded in the mountain's peak. As we climbed, the mountain slope dropped a thousand feet below the staircase. At the top of the staircase stood an impressive stone gateway. It was guarded by a contingent of men, though we didn't have time to determine their motivations or provide our own before it all went to hell.
A pair of Gloomstalkers burst through the doors, knocking the soldiers to the ground and immediately targeting us. My recent battle with one was fresh in my mind: their tactic is to paralyze, snatch, and drop their prey. And with the precipice on either side of us, any missteps would be deadly. We spread out, and I was immediately split on which front to defend. As one Gloomstalker hovered near, I stepped forward to strike. Instead, I found loose footing and began to falter. I knew that I would be able to teleport as a last resort, but the state of the other fighters was deteriorating around me. Yavari was down, and Ezra was in peril. I realized a tactical disadvantage lacking ranged attacks. I would have to wait for the opportunity to attack on approach.
The other Gloomstalker snatched Ezra from the ground, and lifted him into the air. We were in a frenzy as Ezra was pulled further from us. We were wary of hurting the wyvern, for fear of dropping Ezra to the ground far below--certain death. Yet the Gloomstalker was just out of reach of our other myriad abilities.
The only hope was a plan that Armani devised -- a good one, though perhaps not the perfect one. If he could warp the Gloomstalker to his position by the readied soldiers, then the soldiers would be able to attack en masse. It was a good plan, except that the Gloomstalker resisted the vortex and maintained its grip on a target far more susceptible to the vortex. The allure of glory is hard to resist.
And then we watched it fly away, with Ezra collapsed in its claws. It diminished in the distance, away to devour its prey, and now lost to us, despite our fixation and mark on it. And just like that, Ezra, as well as the medallion he carried, in was gone.
I felt such a strong cocktail of emotions -- bewilderment, anger, shame -- as I watched yet another victim pulled away from me. The vision from my dream nights ago, of Fionn snatched by a Gloomstalker, resounded in the dark parts of my mind. I failed my duty once again.
Still now, I replay every moment of that battle in my mind. Perhaps if I had instead told everyone to group up rather than disperse, we would have had strength in numbers. And if I had protected Ezra instead, he would still be with us.
I said that each of us had individual motivations. In my youth I proved to myself that greed and glory make poor advisors. The one motivation beginning to bind us together to a larger purpose was that medallion and the sense of its importance. Without it, we were free to return to our individual quests. What this group may have become in time, we will not know.
And so I carry forward, once again on my own, and likely the better for it. I have a lead now: "The Veil". An organization dealing in human trafficking. They are elusive and hard to track by their use of mysterious portals, but I will find them. And I will kill them. And I will recover the children that were taken from us, as many as I can.
And then I will return home, with Fionn and my dear Róisín. And with hope we will continue our days in peace, far from these conflicts and these rulers that lust for conquest. I'd like to return to Odessloe once more, next to Erdeloch, maybe in time for the next fair. That would be nice.
An Unexpected Journey
14th of Quen'pillar 836 PD
It was 4 months ago to the day that I left Nogvorut.
I was alone. Circumstance and Necessity stripped me of everyone I loved. So after such a time, it is odd to be surrounded by company again. It is even stranger to find myself enjoying the company, at times. Not all of them are so unbearable. Perhaps there is a silver lining in that, despite the task that lay before me.
We have spent twelve days on the road. Travel is slower when there are so many, and some of us do not seem as accustomed to long marches. Most nights I dream of Fionn and Róisín. Some dreams are happy, but in others I relive variations of that terrible night. One night I must have had no dreams at all, so deeply I must have slept. When we reached the caravan stop ran by a pair of dryads, we were reunited with our fellow competitors from Jigow. The water genasi, Io, is a welcome, kindred spirit.
Tomorrow we expect to reach Bazzoxan. First we must cross a wretched area known as the Barbed Fields--from what the dryads tell us, it truly must represent the worst of this vile region. I hope there I will find more answers to Fionn's whereabouts. And I pray to Pelor that he is still living.
I was alone. Circumstance and Necessity stripped me of everyone I loved. So after such a time, it is odd to be surrounded by company again. It is even stranger to find myself enjoying the company, at times. Not all of them are so unbearable. Perhaps there is a silver lining in that, despite the task that lay before me.
We have spent twelve days on the road. Travel is slower when there are so many, and some of us do not seem as accustomed to long marches. Most nights I dream of Fionn and Róisín. Some dreams are happy, but in others I relive variations of that terrible night. One night I must have had no dreams at all, so deeply I must have slept. When we reached the caravan stop ran by a pair of dryads, we were reunited with our fellow competitors from Jigow. The water genasi, Io, is a welcome, kindred spirit.
Tomorrow we expect to reach Bazzoxan. First we must cross a wretched area known as the Barbed Fields--from what the dryads tell us, it truly must represent the worst of this vile region. I hope there I will find more answers to Fionn's whereabouts. And I pray to Pelor that he is still living.
A Change of Course
4th of Quen'pillar 836 PD
Perhaps I've grown more bullheaded as I've aged. Or perhaps I've always been proud. I recently came to believe that I could rely on no one but myself, but I'm reminded that I've counted on brothers in every battle we fought.
Perhaps it's time to trust again.
This morning I joined a caravan heading toward Baxxozan. The large mammoths were not ideal company, but the goblins that herded them were keen to gain a soldier's protection. It's a challenge to overcome my prejudice. The loss of Fionn is an open wound that festers with malice, but there are moments that I see humanity in them. The wolves within me continue to control me, yet being aware of them does not mean I control them.
So it was a strong cocktail of emotions that I produced when each of their lives were taken by the strange winged beast that attacked us in the day. It appeared suddenly above the trees. A deathly mist rolled off its body. One of the goblins called it "Gloomstalker".
A paralyzing fear gripped me as it roared toward us. Fear! Imagine this. Yet I was not in control of my body, whatever otherworldly powers this beast possessed. Skeletons rose from the mist and begun to attack the goblins that I had promised to protect. Whether they are redeemable or not, a promise made is a promise I must keep.
But then the beast snatched me up and carried me into the sky. The ground left my feet, and the stalker's wretched claws dug into my flesh. I cursed myself for not donning my armor for this journey--discretion be damned! I dipped into Pelor's blessing and staved the bleeding, focusing my enmity on the beast gripping me.
The sky around us erupted with noise. The air itself seemed to shatter. The beast dropped me from its grasp, likely to kill me with the fall. I lashed out with my spear in desperation, hoping to hold tight its rotting flesh. I willed Pelor's light into the point of my blade, but the strike was too shallow and I continued to fall.
By luck or Fate, I struck the ground but did not die. I could feel something damaged inside, but I rolled to my feet and circled around to prepare for the beast to come after me again. It was then that I saw the unexpected: those of mine from Jigow were racing toward us! I felt a momentary relief--the spark of hope?
The beast's cry rained down at us, and it dove at me once again. This time, it was exactly what I wanted. I drove my spear upward as the stalker came within reach, once again focusing Pelor's light into it. I shut my eyes against the brilliant flare. The beast released an agonized shriek and then fell dead, right atop me.
And that's the last thing I remember from the waking world.
I was in emptiness, and I felt nothing. There was a loneliness beyond anything I experienced before. I knew that my Fionn and Róisín were beyond my reach. My pride would be my final failure.
But then a light began to form before me. I felt a warmth, and I heard muffled voices. I reached outward, and suddenly I was awake!
I was also crushed beneath the behemoth. I heard more clearly the voices of my traveling companions. With my remaining strength and will, I pressed upwards. Adrenaline surged through my muscles as I strained, but the body of the stalker rose. It rose just enough to allow me to wiggle out, and I was free.
I humbled myself. If I am to rescue Fionn, no more can I rely on myself alone. At least until then, I must avail myself of all my resources -- these companions as well as my imperial armor. My amulet, too, was warm to the touch when I rose--perhaps a sign of Pelor's gift of another chance, another chance to rescue my son and redeem myself to those that came to my aid.
Enough Distraction
3rd of Quen'pillar 836 PD
The final contest was as disorganized as one might imagine. I almost didn't show myself, and I told the others as much the night before, but something convinced me to follow through--duty or perhaps hope that I could gain help. After we completed the trial, even winning, I doubt strongly that there is anything to be gained.
Each of them is formidable in their own rights, to be sure, but there was no plan, no communication! When you form a band of soldiers, you must rely on each rank and file without question. Even when the battlefield is stifled by smoke or shouting (or entirely underwater), you fight as one or you lose. If you must fill deficiencies and correct mistakes, the enemy will break through these cracks and you will lose.
Yet we did not lose. Even though each one rushed ahead foolishly at every opening--most of all the flashy, frail one--even though I thrice fended off danger caused by brash actions, we managed to prevail the other team. The final obstacle was an abominable fish the size of which I had never seen: teeth the size of my fingers, a silver spear protruding achingly from its side, and the prize we needed to secure wrapped around its neck . I steeled myself, ready for a fight I desperately hoped I could win in the beast's own domain. Two of the fools rushed past me, somehow wrenching both the amulet and the spear from the fish. Luck, not skill, was on their side as the spear rent its flesh and the fish thrashed itself to death.
Perhaps I could have seen value then, if all we did was prevail despite foolish tactics. Instead, we found ourselves in a cavern outside of the official course. A mysterious medallion sat on a pedestal, and I could feel it calling. We all could. That fool Ezra, the one without a calling beyond coin, reached out and took the thing. We were thrust into a vision that I must only describe as deceitful. Something masquerading as celestial beseeched us to free it from a prison, a prison it might very well deserve to be in.
Evil is as convincing as valor. Imagine that each of this band was ready to jump at this anonymous beckoning for nothing but the promise of adventure. Not I. Every minute I waste puts another nail in Fionn's coffin, and now I know that there is a chance: a Kobold gave me word that a mass of children were brought through Jigow on their way to Bazzoxan. I have no reason to distrust this information, as in return the Kobold asked only that I pay donation to a nearby orphanage.
I will head off first thing toward Bazzoxan, deeper into Xhorhas. Let the others have their damned adventure.
Jigow
2nd of Quen'pillar 836 PD
Jigow is quite unlike anything in the Imperium. It seems to exist by pure stubbornness, layered on stilts and paddies over an unforgiving river. I expected to disdain the place, but I find it hard not to admire it, even if it is mostly populated by goblins and orcs. The air here to the Dynasty is not completely subjugated, the spirit not completely crushed. Still, I cannot live openly, and I have stashed my armor away in an inn.
They celebrate this time with a Festival of Merit. It is difficult to enjoy merriment when my task is so grim, yet I cannot pass opportunities to make inquisitions when most everyone is distracted by the glamor of competition. I have even entered in some myself and have earned some coins that may prove helpful.
I have observed some among the crowd that appear singular, perhaps foreign like myself. We have been fated to join the final competition together. One of them I met after I dangerously (foolishly) jumped into the Ifolon to save a woman. It was more savage than Erdeloch I grew up swimming in, and it took great exertion to get myself back alive. The woman seemed to fair better than me on her own. A young man appeared with a message for the woman, but he did not seem to gain any of her trust. I recall others like him in my youth: shiftless and truly in need of a cause other than themselves.
Later, he asked me to join in a harvesting contest. My instinct is to avoid attention and these games, but I considered that it might be in my favor to gain help if this young man, Ezra, proves to be trustworthy. I have observed him risk himself for the health of others, so there may yet be something in him. The last months of travel have convinced me that my oath is a marathon, not a sprint. If I am to take on the whole of Xhorhas to find Fionn, and to find him alive, then it will take help to beat the passage of time.
They celebrate this time with a Festival of Merit. It is difficult to enjoy merriment when my task is so grim, yet I cannot pass opportunities to make inquisitions when most everyone is distracted by the glamor of competition. I have even entered in some myself and have earned some coins that may prove helpful.
I have observed some among the crowd that appear singular, perhaps foreign like myself. We have been fated to join the final competition together. One of them I met after I dangerously (foolishly) jumped into the Ifolon to save a woman. It was more savage than Erdeloch I grew up swimming in, and it took great exertion to get myself back alive. The woman seemed to fair better than me on her own. A young man appeared with a message for the woman, but he did not seem to gain any of her trust. I recall others like him in my youth: shiftless and truly in need of a cause other than themselves.
Later, he asked me to join in a harvesting contest. My instinct is to avoid attention and these games, but I considered that it might be in my favor to gain help if this young man, Ezra, proves to be trustworthy. I have observed him risk himself for the health of others, so there may yet be something in him. The last months of travel have convinced me that my oath is a marathon, not a sprint. If I am to take on the whole of Xhorhas to find Fionn, and to find him alive, then it will take help to beat the passage of time.
Stranger in a Strange Land
30th of Sydenstar 836 PD
It's quite the feeling being behind enemy lines. The air feels familiar, though the terrain is not. The citizens are unnatural to me, and everyone appears to me a potential threat. Yet there is an exhilaration in the danger. I feel unbounded as I did in my younger years.
It took time and care to plan my way here. It has been no easy task, but with Róisín safely in Odesloe, I was able to devote my whole being to the plan of action. I needed to cross the border, unobserved and unhindered, and imbed myself in these wretched lands. My target was Jigow, a bustling hive of wretched scum annexed by the Dynasty where it is my hope that a lone human traveler would be less suspicious. In a city such as this, there must be clues about where my son was taken, along with the other children.
The journey is over 700 miles, and I expect it will take me well over a month. I must be careful how I travel, so as to not draw attention to myself. My means of defense make me an immediate target, as they are unmistakably Dwendalian craftsmanship. So they remain stowed away, heavy and useless, until absolutely necessary.
The frontier was still well defended at Rockguard, and so Ashguard was my best chance at crossing the border unnoticed rather than a suspected defector. Finally, on a summer night when Catha provided just enough light to see by, I picked my way through the rugged, unguarded terrain outside the garrison. The Xhorhasians know only how to attack a border, not defend one.
Now, safe as one can be, I am behind the border. I make my way slowly North along untrafficked and difficult terrain. I have been able to barter with Dwendalian coin at small villages, and most seem to believe that I am simply a traveler from the distant Menagerie Coast. It seems a simple story enough to fool these simple creatures. It takes strength to have any compassion towards them, as they so freely give fielty to a false queen and false gods. Yet I must, as I recognize that I was also once fooled. The Imperium might have declared a truce, but the war is not finished--not to me. Until I find what was stolen from us, I shall not rest.
It took time and care to plan my way here. It has been no easy task, but with Róisín safely in Odesloe, I was able to devote my whole being to the plan of action. I needed to cross the border, unobserved and unhindered, and imbed myself in these wretched lands. My target was Jigow, a bustling hive of wretched scum annexed by the Dynasty where it is my hope that a lone human traveler would be less suspicious. In a city such as this, there must be clues about where my son was taken, along with the other children.
The journey is over 700 miles, and I expect it will take me well over a month. I must be careful how I travel, so as to not draw attention to myself. My means of defense make me an immediate target, as they are unmistakably Dwendalian craftsmanship. So they remain stowed away, heavy and useless, until absolutely necessary.
The frontier was still well defended at Rockguard, and so Ashguard was my best chance at crossing the border unnoticed rather than a suspected defector. Finally, on a summer night when Catha provided just enough light to see by, I picked my way through the rugged, unguarded terrain outside the garrison. The Xhorhasians know only how to attack a border, not defend one.
Now, safe as one can be, I am behind the border. I make my way slowly North along untrafficked and difficult terrain. I have been able to barter with Dwendalian coin at small villages, and most seem to believe that I am simply a traveler from the distant Menagerie Coast. It seems a simple story enough to fool these simple creatures. It takes strength to have any compassion towards them, as they so freely give fielty to a false queen and false gods. Yet I must, as I recognize that I was also once fooled. The Imperium might have declared a truce, but the war is not finished--not to me. Until I find what was stolen from us, I shall not rest.
Let It All Burn
14th of Unndilar 836 PD
The war has been declared over. I'm told that the Dwendalian Emperor has capitulated and negotiated a truce. We should be glad, yet my anger is not salved. How can the war be finished when not every victim has been brought home? How can Bertrand claim to be our protector while absolving the Kryn of its sins? I despise the man I once gave fealty to. The Imperium has deserted us, and these Kryn transgressions will not be answered.
We are childless, and the hope of recovering our dear Fionn is now a pin of light in a deep darkness. The wolves of hope and despair fighting within me now bear a child of their own: the wolf of vengeance. I no longer bear duty to the Empire. I bear duty to my family, my son. I must bring Fionn home by whatever means necessary or bring vengeance upon those that took him.
I have sent Róisín home to Odesloe, and hopefully far from this pestilent conflict. I must enter Xhorhas myself, following what little information I have. My old armor is heavy and fits less well than it used to, but my blade is welcomed as a familiar, old friend.
May the Gods have mercy on the bastards that took Fionn, because they shall have none from me.
We are childless, and the hope of recovering our dear Fionn is now a pin of light in a deep darkness. The wolves of hope and despair fighting within me now bear a child of their own: the wolf of vengeance. I no longer bear duty to the Empire. I bear duty to my family, my son. I must bring Fionn home by whatever means necessary or bring vengeance upon those that took him.
I have sent Róisín home to Odesloe, and hopefully far from this pestilent conflict. I must enter Xhorhas myself, following what little information I have. My old armor is heavy and fits less well than it used to, but my blade is welcomed as a familiar, old friend.
May the Gods have mercy on the bastards that took Fionn, because they shall have none from me.
An Agonizing Winter
28th of Misuthar 836 PD
We have waited an agonizing winter, knowing that each day that passes may bring the knife closer to Fionn's throat. My Róisín is barely living, consumed by grief, and I am still recovering from my injuries. Neither the Brand nor the Crownsguard will do a thing, as the war rages on and resources are spent. A mixture of Righteous Brand and mercenaries tried to retake Ashguard, but they failed dramatically. We do not know if our Fionn is still alive or dead, or worse. My failure is the only child we now bear.
There are two wolves fighting within me: the wolf of hope and the wolf of despair. One hopes that my child will be found, that he is still living, and that the bastards that took him will be brought to justice. The other fears that he will be forgotten, or that he is already dead. It is all I can do now to wait for Spring and the news that this conflict might bear fruit.
There are two wolves fighting within me: the wolf of hope and the wolf of despair. One hopes that my child will be found, that he is still living, and that the bastards that took him will be brought to justice. The other fears that he will be forgotten, or that he is already dead. It is all I can do now to wait for Spring and the news that this conflict might bear fruit.
Tragedy Strikes a Cold Iron
16th of Cuersaar 835 PD
Gods, why have you abandoned us? My boy has been taken. Fionn, my fair-haired Fionn!
Nogvurot has been besieged, and many children have been taken by those Xhorhasian bastards, taken to who knows where. I was useless to stop it. My lust for conflict burns within me once again. They have taken the thing from me that I should never have gambled. The Imperium is aflame and conflict sparks wherever, as Kryn forces tunnels beneath our sovereign lands.
I only hope that our strength prevails and our Fionn is found, safe and alive.
Nogvurot has been besieged, and many children have been taken by those Xhorhasian bastards, taken to who knows where. I was useless to stop it. My lust for conflict burns within me once again. They have taken the thing from me that I should never have gambled. The Imperium is aflame and conflict sparks wherever, as Kryn forces tunnels beneath our sovereign lands.
I only hope that our strength prevails and our Fionn is found, safe and alive.
Home At Last
28th of Fessuran 835 PD
When I returned home to Nogvurot for the final time, it was with a mixture of joy and guilt. I struggled to find peace with my decision: was I deserting my brothers? Yet too much despair had begun to root, and I feared that there would be no room for love to flourish.
The choice became clear as I lay in recovery, many miles behind the front line that we lost. Ashguard was overrun. All who were able took arm against the ambush. The blade was a familiar friend in my hands, but it weighed more heavily. The smoke choked us as the garrison burned, and in the chaos I felt the deep sting of a jagged blade. It pierced deep into the fear that I had been harboring of dying in battle. Where once I would have gladly given my life for this cause, now I had something more to live for.
By some grace, or perhaps by fate, I was saved in the retreat. And as I laid in recovery, in some remote encampment in Crispvale, I knew that I did not want to die far from my family. I am at peace. I have my honor, granted by my discharge and decoration for my sacrifice, and I have my family. If one day we are to finally lose the war, Gods forbid it!, then I will face the final threat defending my home and my wife and my son.
The choice became clear as I lay in recovery, many miles behind the front line that we lost. Ashguard was overrun. All who were able took arm against the ambush. The blade was a familiar friend in my hands, but it weighed more heavily. The smoke choked us as the garrison burned, and in the chaos I felt the deep sting of a jagged blade. It pierced deep into the fear that I had been harboring of dying in battle. Where once I would have gladly given my life for this cause, now I had something more to live for.
By some grace, or perhaps by fate, I was saved in the retreat. And as I laid in recovery, in some remote encampment in Crispvale, I knew that I did not want to die far from my family. I am at peace. I have my honor, granted by my discharge and decoration for my sacrifice, and I have my family. If one day we are to finally lose the war, Gods forbid it!, then I will face the final threat defending my home and my wife and my son.
What Hope I Have
3rd of Duscar 832 PD
The war is never ending. It is a terrible Father whose children are Want and Rancor. It begets campaigns that last for months. The campaigns beget battles, some that last for hours and some that last for days. I no longer see the front lines with my own eyes, but I see the results. Our enemies grow stronger, and our wounds grow deeper. The wounded return to our tents with all manner of affliction, physical or magical. Some we can treat, others are hopeless with our manner of training.
We feel the ever constricting purse strings, as the soldiers' armory degrades and our medical supplies dwindle. The whole of the Imperium feels the cost of this accursed war. At the same time, the forces of our enemy seem to grow. Orcs and Goblinkind and Goliaths bolster their ranks, serving the dreaded Dynasty.
It has been nearly a year since I have seen Róisín and my darling Fionn, despite moving them to Nogvurot with the hopes of being closer. I am granted no leave from my duty. Letters come on occasion, as Róisín tells me of their days. She misses the loch, and says that her mother is ailing. I feel an emptiness growing inside of me. Perhaps it is the seed of despair. I do not want to miss my son's life. He is ten years now. May the hope I have preserve me and end this conflict soon, before the seed takes root.
We feel the ever constricting purse strings, as the soldiers' armory degrades and our medical supplies dwindle. The whole of the Imperium feels the cost of this accursed war. At the same time, the forces of our enemy seem to grow. Orcs and Goblinkind and Goliaths bolster their ranks, serving the dreaded Dynasty.
It has been nearly a year since I have seen Róisín and my darling Fionn, despite moving them to Nogvurot with the hopes of being closer. I am granted no leave from my duty. Letters come on occasion, as Róisín tells me of their days. She misses the loch, and says that her mother is ailing. I feel an emptiness growing inside of me. Perhaps it is the seed of despair. I do not want to miss my son's life. He is ten years now. May the hope I have preserve me and end this conflict soon, before the seed takes root.
A New Life
2nd of Thunsheer 825 PD
These past years have been dear to me. I am home now, with Róisín and Fionn, at least for a time. I have stowed my weapons and taken new training in medicine. I spend days at home, and more days with the school. Weekly I attend to services at the chapel, learning protocols and prayers for magical healing. I am able to appreciate the Dawnfather's daily blessings, and in time I will master his gifts and bring healing to our soldiers.
The days I am home are blessed with joy. I take Fionn to Erdeloch, and we throw stones. Róisín and I share time reading, a pastime I never thought I would enjoy so much. I hear reports from the front lines, and I fear the situation grows more dire. I know that very soon my training will be sufficient, and I will be sent back to service.
The days I am home are blessed with joy. I take Fionn to Erdeloch, and we throw stones. Róisín and I share time reading, a pastime I never thought I would enjoy so much. I hear reports from the front lines, and I fear the situation grows more dire. I know that very soon my training will be sufficient, and I will be sent back to service.
The Second Love of My Life
7th of Thunsheer 822 PD
I am home now with my love, Róisín. She bore the child and, bless Pelor, survived. I now hold Fionn in my arms, our light-haired boy. He is the sweetest and most cherished thing I have beheld. He is the second love of my life. I must do all that I can to provide for him and Róisín.
A Bloody Day
1st of Horisal 822 PD
Our losses are growing, and the evil assaulting us from Xhorhas is dauntless. Today I faced death at Nogvurot. Surrounded by three brutes, fighting for my life, and all I could think was never meeting my child, of not growing old with Róisín. I cannot continue this way. I cannot protect my family this way. I need to find another way.
But I am duty bound, and the threat is not defeated. If I do not help the cause, we may be one day overrun. I am going to request a transfer to the medicinal corps where I can still be of service to my brothers.
But I am duty bound, and the threat is not defeated. If I do not help the cause, we may be one day overrun. I am going to request a transfer to the medicinal corps where I can still be of service to my brothers.
Joyful News
10th of Brussendar 821 PD
I received a letter from Róisín. She is with child! Oh what joyful news! She has also sent me a new book to read. I admit that I am getting better at it. I will be able to see the babe once I return home next, in three-quarter's year. Róisín says if it is born a girl, she will name her Catríon, after me. If it is born a boy, she will name him Fionn. I have never thought much of the Gods, but I must thank Pelor for this gift of life to us. My days are spent in pursuit of death. I cannot wait to greet new life.
A Brother Falls
22nd of Unndilar 821 PD
Today we defended our camps from an Orcish raid. The beasts were relentless, and many fell to our blades. Our line of pikes held strong, as archers and cavalry men sundered their forces. Despite our bravery and exceptionalism, one of our brave brothers fell. Irél and I enlisted together in Odesloe when we were eighteen. We trained together in Bladegarden, and we have served side by side these ten years since. Irél, my brother and my friend, you will not be forgotten.
As Fair As Spring
13th of Dualahei 821 PD
I've met a woman at the festival. Róisín. She makes my heart swell. She is fair and tender. She enjoys books, and for some reason, she also seems to enjoy me. I've not felt this excitement for anything but battle before, but as we walked by Erdeloch, I felt a desire for something more. My hand trembles as I write this, but we are to be married. It's fast to be sure but we are still young and we have only time. I am home for a month, and then I'll return to the fight.
The Frontline Against Xhorhas
15th of Sydenstar 817 PD
The fight against the monstrosities of Xhorhas is as grueling as it is exciting. The Kryn Dynasty has been pushing against our borders for over a year now. I say let them push! My blade is no stranger to their blood. We the Righteous Brand are what keeps the Dwendalian Empire safe and the threat at bay. Long live the Imperium!
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