From the journal of Captain Kal Deigo Date: 1039 Seasons on the Third Moon
I’ve often found myself wondering if I was born into a crazy world or if I simply am a weirdness magnet. I’ve been traveling together with my strange quartet for quite sometime now and every day something new and intresting happens…
We we’re sitting at the campfire on our way back from “the lost road” and me overhearing a conversation between a GOD and Reathe. (see yesterday’s journal entry) and I thought it would be a good time for me to take Reathe aside to talk to him about these recent events. As I stand to leave; I see Dorak holding his hammer drifting into the fire, his knuckles turning ivory white with strain and his eyes swimming. I hear him mutter something…
“Sun to a boy is a toy Sun spinning by his bed Not what is seems… Cut off your head..”
Then his head snapped up and he went back to tooling his weapon. Frankly, the only reason why it even stuck out to me was the lilting tune he muttered it in. I’ve always been a fan of music and I seem to have a gift for getting songs stuck in my head.
I spoke to Reathe and questioned him about Byordin’s words, I knew that he had done something to walk the path of the slayer, but when he said he slew his own clan for a sin they had committed… I never realized. Dwarves clans can be hundreds even thousands of members deep. My adopted clan, Hardforge, is relatively small with only 342 members including myself. (I should know… I had to memorize every name and all of the fathers, boy was that a fight! I thought Ashka was going to murder me when she found my cheat notes…)
Anyway… I feel for Reathe, the more I speak to him the more tortured I feel he is. But for once, I see hope. If he can save the last of his clan, then he can be free, I just hope he can save himself. I’ve traveled the seven seas, I’ve seen the black fields of glass in the west and I’ve seen the remains of giant walkers in Afrika, I know men make deals with devils by their actions… and I know a cursed man when I see one. I can cheat at cards like no ones business… maybe I can help him win a bit of himself back…
Enough for now… We’ll be back in Archangel in the morn.
(2nd Journal entry) From the journal of Captain Kal Deigo Date: 1039 Seasons on the Full Moon
I have killed men tonight. I have killed men whose souls I dam to the most unimaginable depths of hell. The Lord, Vicilli, has shed my cousin’s blood these last 3 nights. He has shed this scared ether to bait me out but I wasn’t here…I was in the city of lies.
I apparently have made an enemy by refusing to be extorted on the river. He has made a grievous mistake this day. I offered challenge and like a coward he sends his minions. They were all dispatched but one made the death confession of who his master was and that he resides in Mosko.
I have also made the Warbond between me and my companions real by voicing it aloud to a council of Dwarves elders. This should be clear to the Dwarves, they know honor and they should know that the blood they ALSO split on the rivers flows here from dwarven veins. By speaking the Warbond allowed, we are warrior kin and bound by steel. The human has no sense of things… his reaction was simply “I won’t kill someone for no reason”… since we have been together; his hands are the most stained. He has burned and killed a group of poor press ganged minions, he spilled the most blood on the river when he could have easily made false gold or some other deception instead of hurling spheres of arcane flames and he has been called both deceiver and murderer in the City by the mad painter. It’s amazing how easily people forget that. I have not. Perhaps I judge hard but even without understanding the Warbond, a man should understand other men and know his own sins.
In the plus column, the girls are all right, thank the divine masses (any god good enough to listen), but Ashka has every right to be cross. Killing a dwarf is like killing an ancient oak, the life you snuff has taken hundreds of years to culminate and its roots dig into the very center of the earth. 3 have passed and all due to me coming here.
And I saw the lady in white again… for a split second she sung her tune and haunts me. As I fought Vicilli’s murders, I heard it and made it my own. With every note my blade grew more precise and the din of battle grew silent.
I will ponder this more but for now I need to travel. We head for Mosko in the morn.