Jacqualine
Daughter of two veteran elder druids of the Dartwick Forest, hater of snakes, taker of busts.
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Pathless
I am done. I am completely, utterly done. I wander in the dark, and I have no path.
This wild chase around the continent, this constant vigilance. Assassins, both us and against us. My mind, still completely shattered, my connection to the my people severed.
And now this.
I wanted to believe it so badly. I have for several years now. A goddess, a good goddess, capable of slaying demon lords. Imagine the possibilities. The potential. So much suffering that we would be able to alleviate, to negate, to prevent entirely. Too good to be fucking true. Of course.
"The Redeemer Queen" Varkallin said. "She wants to be the protector of exiles, goddess of artists, and shed her past". How naïve I was. Trusting a demon to become good? It goes against every single thing anyone is ever told as a child. But yeah, sure Jacquie. This one is good, because it sounds nice.
Ten years. Ten years wasted. It is no long time, but all that I have done in her service. The people I've sheltered. The inconsistencies I've turned a blind eye to. A literal succubus being planted in connection to the Akkonian court on her bidding by me. My non-descript answers to a group of people who I've been in the deepest of troubles with. All the while adamant in my faith. This will pass. She will be known as the Redeemer Queen to all, and she will take her rightful place in the pantheon. If I just push further. If I just hold fast to her. I will lie to my parents, that they do not find out and be worried. They will understand in the end. MORON. IDIOT. HOW COULD I BE SO DUMB?
She asked me to betray Izdubar. When he would be located in Rankarrus, I was to make sure he did not find a way out. He would be stuck forever. "A fitting end" she said.
That is not the belief of a good goddess. That is not the a stance of a goddess adamant on ending demon lords for the good of the world, or the protector of exiles. Izdubar IS a fucking exile. This was the bidding of a demon lord of subversion and betrayal, and she demanded of me, her loyal follower, to do this or to stop leeching from her powers. I am not a follower of a fucking demon. I am not a cleric of subversion and betrayal, I won't stand for this. She can keep her dirty magic. She can keep her schemes, her subterfuge, her backhanded business and her whoring. I'm done being taken for granted.
I will leave her behind me. I will use her powers one last time to warn Izdubar. Fitting use for her magic at least. Protecting the exile. She won't be the one severing her magic from me. Fuck that. I choose my own way, I will cut it myself. I will find someone more worthy of my service, that will help me put an end to the Karapanate and whatever the fuck they are planning to do with the yellow books. If that so takes days or weeks, I do not care.
I've come to realize that beauty is for the vain, the easily charmed and the optimists. The world is beautiful, but it can never be beauty alone that eradicates what is corrupt and broken.
I retract my earlier statement. I am not pathless. I have a path. I just need the right power to give me a light.
I hope Nocticula chokes on Vyriavaxus' dick.
The Journal Entry’s title
Begin writing your story here...
Send help
Caerlin left his journal open. The man has completely lost his mind.
If someone reads this, send help. Preferably a professional that can treat minds. His is lost.
Developments
I am at a lack for words. To simply write sigh, would be an understatement of my current state of mind.
Invited by the High Judge (etc. etc. etc.), I found myself in Akkur. The dwellings of men are quaint, to be sure, but this large a gathering of this many dwellings, drowning in dust, mud and conspiracy? Well, it is interesting at least. I was sent out together with a group of other "Significant" persons to solve the mystery of a terrorized road, which the armed forces of both the state and the church seem to have failed at revealing. We found but death and goblins, and a shrouded spectre of some sort, all guarding a "treasure" the church had carelessly lost.
The chest was filled with something unspeakeable, something dark, ominous and terrifying. It was filled with omens, cosmic horrors and the void. It should have been buried, hidden, forgotten or destroyed. No-one should ever possess such an item. My accomplices were adamant in bringing it back to the king, ignoring my pleas.
We have been made some type of authorative persons in investigating the ties between the shrouded spectre and a presumed cult in the capital. This entails us having some form of spokesperson at court. I still suffer from the visions I was granted by the evil inside the chest, and I need it purged from my mind. I communicated to our lady, who sent me an old acquaintance. I am to appoint her as the spokesperson, which my group seems to agree upon.
Regarding the group, I presume they should be presented in order for me to clear my fucking head.
There is Malgrim, the sweetest, stupidest hobgoblin you ever saw. His mind is just about as sharp as a pearl, but he always has an adorable smile and holds his drink like no-one I've ever seen. Makes sense, since he was raised by dwarves.
Then, there is Del'Gado. The cat with the accent, appearently from the city but with accent like no one else from the city. Runs quick as all hell. Gives me reason to keep my purse within sight at all times, but he seems to have his heart on the right side and is capable of some advanced thought, even though he was adamant on bringing the accursed chest.
Also (somewhat) from Akk-ur, is Imaros. A satyr, he is just as one would imagine. A bit sketchy, could hold a complete conversation with a deaf man, and uses his horns more than anything else on, or in, his head. Of course, being a satyr, he has gotten himself stuck in some unsavoury business. He himself doesn't seem overly bad though, except for pulling the fucking chest all the way from the forest on a cart. Dimwitted, but stubborn. Makes me think of a certain animal.
Then, the holier-than-thou-but-still-thinking-he-has-a-shot: Caerlin. Since this knight of the church appeared out of nowhere and started to bark orders at us, he has done nothing but enlighten us with bad ideas and spread church propaganda. Great if we were kids, a bit worse since we're not. He has not found a single moment unfitting for unwanted looks or comments either. At least it's nice knowing that I'm keeping up with appearences, even though it is told by the weirdest knight in the history of Kartia.
The last couple of days, me and this group of persons have been researching the presence of a cult, through aiding other organizations - inadvertently. I believe that the word "spicy" could be used, since we appearently worked with the hellknights, but they seemed to be more of a mercenary gang than the demon-hunting, justice-thumping collection of armors that I heard about, but I guess that we will see in the future. We have some semblence of a lead, now we just need to follow it, and try not to find another cursed thing - and I need to see to it that the church does not fucking use the cursed thing or bring it anywhere where it could be used. I won't let anyone be tainted as I were. Good to have Caerlin with us, he can probably provide me with an in if needed. He seems to have a weakness for me after all.
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