Journal of Iirima Rauko
Character story
The Life of Erulissa Menel, Maethor Rauko, and Iirima Rauko as Seen Through My Eyes
Our story begins long before there was my mother, Erulissa Menel, and will continue long after I pass. Our lives are no different from those of other families, times of love, times of hardships, and times of devastation and loss. It is hard to know where to start for there is so much to tell and I would not want the trials of my parents to be forgotten. I suppose I will start with my mother, the story of her youth until the time of her departure unto Mor'teps realm.
Part One: The Life of Erulissa Menel, Noble Elf daughter to the Menel Family.
My mothers life was a long one, beginning hundreds of years ago. She was born of noble blood, something she would later grow to despise. As a child her life was what most children could only dream of. She had everything she could ever dream of. She was a beloved member of the small village of elves she lived among. She was gifted with respect from the day she was born. Her life was a pampered one when she was younger, full of elaborate gifts and all the love a child could need. She was the apple of her fathers eyes, his little princess and the only child him and his wife had been blessed with. Her mother dearly loved her little girl. She was carefree, always smiling, and had a healthy curiosity. She was the picture perfect child. She had beautiful red hair which almost always was crowned with a wreath of wildflowers and strands of soft colored ribbons. Her eyes sparkled with the delight and curiosity that only children had, and her skin was fair and soft. Her mother home schooled her, teaching her of the lands around them. She learned the geography of Caenyr as well as lessons on important people who had passed. She was also taught lessons on the gods, although her family only worshiped one God they taught their daughter of all the gods. As she grew up she blossomed into a beautiful young elf and still held onto her youthful curiosity. As she began to become a woman her parents began to act differently. They became more strict with her, demanding she learn to do household tasks instead of wandering the forests nearby. She began to hold a resentment towards her parents as they began to try and mold her into a woman worthy of being a wife. Soon strings of suitor showed up at the families doorstep and my mother was forced to sit through each visit and expected to act kind, caring, and interested in the men. Her parents were planning to arrange a marriage for her and there was seemingly nothing she could do about it. She hated having to spend her days learning household tasks and how to "act proper". The idea of arranged marriages made her skin crawl. She wanted to marry for love not for money or for status. She was hurt that her parents who once gave into her every desire now wanted to force her into being someone she was not. She soon began to rebel against her parents, leaving the house when she was supposed to be practicing her cooking, staying out at all hours of the night, and traveling to the forbidden woods, The Forest of Souls. As time passed my mother became a woman, fully mature and capable of bearing children. Her parents search for a suitor only intensified and my mothers disobedience also intensified. She began sneaking out of the house to avoid having to entertain more hopeful men. She spent more and more time wandering the dreary forest, finding comfort in a place that mirrored her emotions. It was there that her life would change forever, it was there she would find her happiness, and it was there she would find acceptance. One of her many journey's there brought a surprise. As she walked through the forest her eyes landed upon a large figure. A man sat upon a rock in the forest, his back facing her. He had an immense figure. Large and well muscled from what she could tell from where she stood. A large set of leathery red wings were set across his back. They were torn, bleeding and disheveled. His skin was ivory in color, save some large welts that criss crossed across his shoulders and his back. My mother approached him with caution and lay a hand gently upon his shoulder. Upon closer inspection it was obvious the mans heritage was demonic. His burning red eyes turned up to look at my mother. She told me she would never forget the look in his eyes. It was soft yet so full of pain. His burning eyes held no threats and no evil. He brought his own hand up and rested it upon hers on his shoulder. That is when it happened, that is when my mother found the love that would eventually destroy her. She spent late into the night caring for the man and tending his many wounds. She showed no fear of him for she knew there was something different about him. He was not like most demons. He held no signs of being a vicious killer. For months my mother nursed him back to health secretively. She would sneak from her parents house at night and run off to where she had the man resting, an old rickety house. The demons name was Maethor Rauko but his story comes later...this story is my mothers. It is needless to say that my mother developed a strong bond to Maethor and it was not long before she was deeply in love with him. My mother began spending days at a time out with him, spending blissful days together full of the pleasures of love. They spent many passionate nights together, it would seem so unlikely but they were both happy. My mother soon became with child and not long after her happiness would begin to crumble. For months she was able to hide the pregnancy. She never spoke a word of it to her family or her friends. She was happy to be bearing the child of the man she loved but she knew if her family found out it would be the end of their love. One day as she walked down the streets of her village, whistling to herself happily a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her sharply. She turned to see the shaman of the village standing there, a wild look in his eyes. He knew her secret, he knew she was pregnant. My mother, terrified, tore from his grip and fled. It was not long before her parents found her. They dragged her kicking and screaming to the shamans hut and tied her down. The shaman spent the night casting spells and mixing potions, forcing her to drink them. At the end of the evening the shaman sat down with a look of disappointment and looked to her parents, telling them there was nothing he could do. The child inside was of demon blood and his magic's could not undo what had been done. Her parents, disgusted and disgraced cast her out, forcing her to flee the village that she had always known as her home. She went to Maethor and stayed in the small rundown house with him for a short period but inevitably they were found. My father paid the ultimate price. He was slaughtered before he ever had the chance to meet me. He was robbed the chance to be a father and to be a husband. My mother was crushed, she had escaped with her life and was forever plagued with guilt for not having stayed there beside him as her former family and villagers tore through their home. She lived on the streets, depending on the kindness of others, which she got. She was granted places to stay. small jobs to do to pay for food but soon even that was lost. I was born on a dreadful knight, stormy, dark, and miserable. My mothers labor was hard as had the pregnancy been. It had been a pregnancy riddled with complications and difficulties. The home in which my mother had been staying laid eyes upon me for the first time and hated me...They cursed my mother out, called her horrible names, and cast her out onto the streets. That is where she raised me, on the streets. Always searching for odd jobs and forever seeking kindness from others but she never found it. My mother never lost faith though, she remained sure that she would make it work, and that we would be happy. We lived this way for some time..untill she got ill. It was in the cold months, snow covering the ground. Another night where we were unwelcome in any homes, we went to bed in the streets, cold, hungry, and worn...but this time my mother never woke up........She lived a long life yes, but not nearly as long as it should have been..by elf standards, she died young...In my eyes, she died needlessly..a wasted life..a candle put out by the cruelty of others.
Part Two: The Life of Maethor Rauko, Exiled Demom
The story of my father is one that is fairly broken up, since I never knew him and can only give you the details of his life as my mother knew them. He had been born on the Fallen Mount, as are most demons. He was born into a "family" of sorts. His father, a hard ruler of high standing. Maethor's mother was one of many wives held by his father, many against their will. She was also one of few to bear a child a survive after. Many of my grandfathers wives were killed for bearing girl as opposed to boys. He grew up in a harsh world. His childhood was nothing like my mothers. He, since he was old enough to hold a weapons, was trained to be a killer, a brutal man. His childhood held none of the happy memories my mothers had held. His memories were all of a strict, cruel father who ruled with an iron fist. Beatings were common in the household. He received many as did the woman held there by his father. The woman acted as slaves and wives, expected to do all the household chores, raise the children, and live a submissive life, bending to my grandfathers every will and desire. My father grew strong and large quick from his constant training but he was not happy. He did not have the same viciousness that his father had. He was unusually kind to the slaves in the home as well as to people outside of the home, this enraged his father. The beatings he received became more frequent and more brutal, some leaving him on the brink of death but no matter how enraged his father became or how bad the beatings were he did not change his ways. He continued to show kindness to others. As a "teenager" if you will, he began to become defiant of his father, challenging him and his position. He began defending the woman that his father kept, stepping in the way of his fathers hand and taking beatings for them. He became a protector to them, trying to keep them from harm. As he continued to grow his father grew increasingly nervous, worrying that his son would soon be able to force him from his own home. He tried everything he could think of too hold my father back, even to the extreme of tossing him in the dungeons. This did not last long for the slave woman had grown to like Maethor and trusted him. One bold woman brought Maethor the keys to his cell and helped him to escape the dungeon. In return my father help many of the slave women escape the Fallen Mount and return to the lands where they belonged. By the time my father returned from his journey his father had found out about his sons betrayal by beating it out of one of the slaves that was left behind. When Maethor returned home his father greeted him at the door with his blade. Instantly the two were tangled in combat. The clashing of their weapons and the roars of rage and anger surged through the cold stone halls of the mansion in which they lived. The fought all through the home, slaves and servants struggling to keep out of their way. The fight lasted days, their heritage as demons giving them more stamina and strength than a normal man would have. For days the two heavy weights clashed. Swords biting into flesh and blood decorating the halls. After three days and two nights of fighting my father, by a stroke of luck, landed a fatal blow. His sword slashing through flesh and muscle and shattering bone as it drove its way home and plummeted into the blackened heart of his father. His father fell to the ground, dead before he landed. Maethor fled the home but not unnoticed, soon word spread through the land of the demons and soon my father was a hunted man. They flushed him out and captured him, tossing him in a cell where he was vouchered and whipped for months. He began to loose hope of ever escaping his misery. His spirit was broken, he had no fight left in him, he merely took the beatings that he was dealt on a daily basis. Soon his luck changed, word had spread among the servants of his kindness and once again a slave came to his aid, risking her life to help him escape. She managed to take my father from his cell and smuggle him from the demon lands, leaving him at the edge of the Forest of Souls. He limped his way through part of the forest before collapsing and pulling himself on top a boulder, sitting there, resting his worn, beaten, and broken body. He had been sitting there for some time when he felt a slender smooth hand rest upon his shoulder. He flinched as a sting from his wounds ran through his body. He lifted his hand and placed it upon the hand of whomever had come to his aide. He turned and for the first time looked upon my mother, her beauty and radiance seamed to cut through his pain and despair. He let the petite elvish woman lead him from the forest to a small run down house where he would stay, and where she would begin to nurse him back to health. He, from the moment he saw her, loved her but was afraid to show it, feeling she was only aiding him from kindness, not because she had feelings towards him as well. In the end he had been wrong, he realized she felt the same for him as he did for her when she began spending more and more time with him even though he had finished the healing process. Soon they were spending endless days and passionate nights together, sharing everything with one another. When she had become with child it was a joyous thing for them both, though they both feared what this would happen when her parents found out. In the end it was unavoidable, my mother came running back to the house one day, tears streaking her face. He became enraged when he heard what she had been put through. He wanted to go to the village, to take revenge but my mother held him back...She kept him from seeking his revenge. For a few months they lived quietly in the small house, in hiding. They never left the house during daylight, always waiting till evening to go out but their efforts did not protect them for long. My mothers family and the villagers came, armed and ready to kill the demon and the abomination inside my mother. They purged into the house, torches and weapons ready. They began burning everything, my father fighting them off as best he could and screaming for my mother to run, to seek safety. After he knew that she had safely gone from the home he fought with the fury of ten men, slashing down villagers as best he could but soon it became too much, he fell to the ground. The villagers swarmed him, stabbing, clubbing, bashing, and slashing him. They left him barley alive and set the house ablaze and left him there, My mother watching from the distance as the house exploded into flames with my father inside. So ended the life of my father, a life full of horror, misery, and pain...a life ended out of the cruelty of others. My Mother and Father both believed in kindness to others and it brought them death...I will not suffer their fate....I will not give kindness to a world that would show me none...
Part Three: The Life of Iirima Rauko, Daughter of a Slain Father and a Forgotten Mother
My story has yet to end and will go on for some time now but I shall write what it is of my life that has happened so far. As I wrote in my mothers story I was born on a dreary, stormy, miserable night. It should have been a sign as to how my life would turn out, the suffering and pan that I would endure before I would find my place. As a child my life was not merry, nor was it a life any child should have to endure. I don't remember having carefree days..I don't remember playing in the streets with friends, not a worry in the world. I had no friends, the children of the towns we stayed in our travels would torment me, tease me, and beat me because I was different, because of the way I looked. At first it made me hate my heritage, it made me despise the demon blood that surged through my veins. I was different..I had red leathery wings like my father, wavy bright red hair of my mother, pale ivory skin of my father, slender elfish figure of my mother, and the burning red eyes of my father. I hated all these things as a child because they made me different. My mother would always try to console me when I would run home to her in tears because of what others would say. She told me I needed to be strong, like my father was. She portrayed him as a wonderful man. I could see in her eyes that she missed him and I always felt it was my fault for being born. As I grew I trained in the areas of combat, I learned how to wield a sword and how to fight to protect myself. At the time though I still felt that giving kindness to others would bring good fortune to me. I never once laid a hand on the people that teased me. I never let anger get the best of me. I spent much time as a child training for the life ahead, some would say I was forced to grow up to soon. I would worry just as much as my mother about where we would sleep the next night, what we would eat for dinner, and where tomorrow would bring us. My mother tried her best to hide her concerns and sadness from me but sometimes, when she didn't know I was watching, I would see her cry. I could see what the cruelty of this world had done to her. It had broken and battered her mind and soul. I grew quickly and as I grew I began to, instead of hating who I was, love who I was...I was different from everyone else but even I could see that I was turning into a beauty. I had begun to master my training of the sword as well, strengthening my mind and my body. When I was 28, well..I was older than 28 but for the sake of any humans who may read this I shall put the ages so you may understand them, a hard winter ripped through the area of Etaria where my mother and I had been seeking refuge. The days were cold, the nights were colder. The wind bite into our flesh as the temperature continued to drop. My mother began to become ill..gettign weaker and weaker with every passing day. Each day I would pray for spring, pray for the blessing on one warm day, with the sun shining so that my mother could recover but that never happened. The winter days only continued to get worse. Snow storms dropping blankets of snow across the land for days at a time. Even in these hard times my mother and I could not find a person kind enough to let us into their home. Every door we came to was slammed in our faces. My mother passed that winter. We had been forced to sleep in the streets, unable to find shelter. A storm had been dropping mountains of snow on the area for days now, and did not let up. We went to sleep that night in an alley, curled up, covered in old ragged blankets. When I awoke the next morning I found my mother, frozen where she lay. Her skin an unnatural blue tone, frost crusting her lips and her eyes. No breath rose from her lips, no heartbeat could be found. She was dead...dead because society could not show us the kindness we had shown them. Dead because no one valued our lives enough to help. No one cared about us, or our fate. This is the day that I became who I am today. The day my heart went cold, the day I lost and feeling towards other beings that lived on this mortal plane. I was consumed by darkness and it comforted me in my time of need. I became hateful, I did not trust anyone, and I was quick to slash down any whom I felt deserved it. I lived like this for some time. Killing the people who did not give me or my mother a chance, the people that sealed my mothers fate. As time passed I was even more consumed by darkness, and a will to get revenge on the kind of people that had been so uncaring. I escaped to the lands my mother had once told me of, the lands of Genocide..the place where she had gone, the place where she had met my father. It was there that I first came to know of the great army that was the Dark Knights. Soldiers, Knights, warriors that lived to make others suffer. I watched them come and go for some time, following them silently, watching them from a distance. They worked like a well oiled machine. Order, structure, and discipline kept them together, their need for vengeance, to inflict pain and suffering brought them closer to one another. These Knights, this army of dark souls were like me, I imagine many had suffered some sort of cruel fate given out by an uncaring world. I finally mustered the courage to approach the gates. At first my attempts were met with hostility, I was shot at with arrows, chased away by Gnolls, but I was determined. I knew this was where I belonged, that this was a place I could call home, that here, no one would judge me and I would be accepted. Finally my persistence paid off..I camped outside the gates for a short time and I soon found myself under the judging eyes of Estiana, Mistress of the Dark Knights, and Verin, Overlord of the Dark Knights. The Overlord showed little interest in me, the Mistress doubted me. She said I was too small, too weak to make it as a Dark Knight but I insisted I could be a Knight..That I could prove my worth. The Mistress sent me away with a task, to retrieve the head of the Orc Warlord along with his Bastage sword. I went off and began to plan how I would obtain these things. I hunted out the Orc village and watched them for days, studying their defenses and learning the shift changes of the guards. When I finally made my move it was calculated and deadly. I slashed my way through the large Orc guards and ran into the Warlords tent, fire burning in my eyes. He let out a mighty roar and we fought. We fought hard for at the time he was a formidable foe. I kept at it, using my small stature to help me duck and dodge from the swing of his blade. Finally I landed a fatal hit, cutting his life short. I removed his head swiftly and retrieved his sword and made haste back to the walls of the Dark Knights. I waited there again till I would be seen by the Mistress. Not long did I have to wait. I gave her the things she had asked of me, dropping a bloody sac on the floor and the blade along side it. Apparently she approved enough to accept me for I was put through a ceremony. The Mistress outlined the rules of the Dark Knights, explained its inner workings, how they got things done. She explained the line of command and explained that I was the lowest scum inside their walls. I was then to swear my life to the Dark Knights and to the Overlord, putting my life in their hands, to end if they ever saw fit. I did not hesitate and do not regret it to this day. My life is for the Dark Knights, I live to serve as a Dark Knight, it is my purpose, my calling, my one reason for living. But back to where we were, with my initiation into the halls of the Dark Knights. I was the lowest ranking member, a maggot, a recruit, someone to be pushed around, insulted, and spit on. I was mistreated, walk over, and disrespected but it did not upset me. I knew my place. I followed every order, no matter how horrid they could be. I was at the mercy of all the other knights. Many doubted me, and they let me know it frequently. I was small, a lot smaller than most of the Knights and Soldiers but I did not let it hold me back. I trained hard and trained quickly. I soon traded my place as recruit for Soldier in the Legion of Misery, commanded by Kall, the Terror of the Dark Knights and lead by the general Tuscany, the Enticer of the Dark Knights. I worked as hard as I could, pushing myself to the limit to prove my worth. I was given the title of Dungeon Master, the dungeons were mine now, along with all of their guests. I loved this job, making others suffer brought me joy and pleasure. Finally I proved myself enough that it was announced I would begin my trials. The hardest time in a soldiers life. The time when impossible tasks are given, tasks that require strength, patience, knowledge, planning and more. I faced many challenges in my trials. I was to map out the lands of Genocide for the Archbishop, I was to collect the life oath of Rydis for the Terror, I was to collect feathers for a pillow from ravens in Tyran for the Mistress, I was to seek out the Sea Dragon and try to collect her eggs for the Overlord, among others. I learned a valuable lesson from each of these tasks that were appointed to me and I completed them as quickly as possible. It was not long before I was standing before the Dark Council, ready to face my final task. I was faced with questions from each member of the council, hard questions that involved much thought. Why I followed no God, what I learned from each task, what the greeting By Blood and Pain meant to me. I carefully thought over each question, answering them to the best of my ability. There was a long pause when they came to the point of deciding if I would move on to become a Knight. After a long silence where my mind became to race and doubt myself I was finally granted the honor of becoming a knight, so long as I was accepted by my other knights, which I was. Finally I had made it into the top ranks. A respected member of the Dark Knights. I was given the title of Siren of the Dark Knights, suiting I think. I did not take my promotion as a pass to slack off. I still di everything to the best of my ability. Guiding new recruits, toughening them, training them, and teaching them how to be successful. I also took part in a great battle, a battle that will be written forever in the history of the Dark Knights. We sieged war on the lands that had been taken from us and won. We had out lands back. Plans for reconstruction began, a man, an outsider at that, was brought in to plan out the building of our new kingdom. Personally I dislike getting outside help but none of us within the Dark Knights are capable of the type of building planning that was needed so he is tolerated. During my time among the Dark Knights I grew closer to my "family". One in particular has caught my interest. He is a strong Knight with a mind of his own, he does whatever it takes to get a job done. I am speaking of the Scourge of the Dark Knights wraith, an information gatherer. I have accompanied him on occasion to collect information, there as additional muscle in case a problem arose. It was the Scourge that made me see I needed to make an improvement. It was he that made me see I could better myself, that I could be stronger that I was. I set out to retrain myself. I forgot everything I learned before and stripped myself of my possessions. I started from scratch, again training my body and my mind. The training was surprisingly more difficult the second time around as I pushed myself harder, forcing myself to press on when I felt I could not. After weeks of training I grew frustrated with myself and I knew the others were growing impatient with me..I had to complete my training. In one last surge I managed to accomplish my goals, brining myself to my full potential. I was stronger, faster, deadlier. I no longer use a blade as my weapon, now I carry a warhammer...I prefer it to my old blade..the satisfaction of the bone crushing sound as I drive the hammer down onto my foe sends chills through me. But back to the story, I finished my training and was gifted with a new set of armor, a set that helped to better my skills. I have now become a fairly formidable enemy to face. Now we are approaching the present, nearing the thoughts and happenings that happen to me now. I have grown a healthy curiosity of the God Melivar, a God that is deemed "The one true Lord" by most member of the Dark Knights. The Mistress is Evil's Cry, or his priestess, and the Scourge, the man who has managed to soften a part of my cold uncaring soul whether he knows it or not, he is the Chief Inquisitor. I have been learning from the Mistress of Melivar's teachings. I think that soon, very soon, I shall make a move and hand my soul to Melivar, to become a follower, one of his children. Also in recent events I have been appointed as one of three foreman to lead in the construction of the new castle wall. Myself, Gnar, and the Scourge, a bit unwillingly, have been given the task of leading the soldiers, guards, and prisoners in the construction. So far it has been a rocky start..some bickering has broken out and it is obvious that some have grown sick of the Architects presence. So this is how my life has unfolded so far. Born into an uncaring world where I struggled to find my place, a place to belong. Well, I have found more than that. I have found a family within the Dark Knights and I have found something I thought I would never find, I found a person that I genuinely care for. At this moment he is sitting in a cell, captive to the Midnight Company fargs...Their day will come...I for one will not let this go with out planning revenge. I imagine the others will stand behind me, but for other reasons. I have told no one how I feel about the Scourge, not even him..I hide it..forcing myself to be emotionless. I would not want my feelings to be seen as a weakness. I know the Mistress and the Overlord are married and happy but to my knowledge none of the other members of the Dark Knights are wed or have a significant other. Is it a weakness for one such as myself, a dark soul, a being of evil, to feel an emotion such as love? I do not know how this will pan out. I have begun to consider revealing my feelings to the Scourge but now..I don't know if I will be able to..I wonder if he will return from the cells of the Midnight Company, or will they take his life...All these questions are unanswered at this time in my life and that brings us to the end of this chapter. The is more to tell but I cannot tell the future. I will not be the last in my family so this story will not end with me, but here it will end for now. I feel better now, knowing that the lives of my parent and of myself shall not be forgotten as long as this journal contains our story. So here it is I end my tale, to begin again on another day..........
Part Four: Prisoner, Promotions, and Parenthood
The Scourge was building a house. We were to live there, leaving the hassle of the castle behind. Many changes had come, he was made Wraithmaster, becoming part of the Dark Council, I made the leap into the arms of Melivar. It was not long after all this came to be, that the Scourge disappeared. I did not know what became of him, or if he was alive. I was mad, for a very long time. I felt abandoned. How could he have left the Knights, the One True Lord, how could he have left me? In my anger I lashed out on the creatures of Genocise. I found myself, day after day, in the Caverns, slaying Elements and Sladds. One one such spree I came across a puzzling tunnel. It was not supposed to be there. I curse my curiosity now. I followed the path and to my surprise, I came across the Scourge, or so I thought. As it turned out, who I thought was Nalfein, was in fact a Demon under guise. I was held captive there for ages. There was a project in the makings, and I was to be one of its subjects. It was called Project Brimstone, a half demon breeding program. They were building an army, funded and managed by 7 mages. We were forced to drink potions that, though I can not explain how, made the drinkers become with child. I bore several children in the time I was there, and even witnessed, with shock and horror, my eldest in his first arena practice battle. He was savage and brutal, yet so young. I escaped not long after, with more than just my own life. I escaped with an unborn child within me. I found my way back to the only place I knew as home. I found my way back to Mortour. Those who met me there did not know me, nor did I know them. How many years was I gone? Six, perhaps more. I was thrown into the cells I once managed. I was there perhaps a day or so before a familiar face found me. Barathrum. He was not even a Knight when I was last at the castle. Now, he was the Sage. He found trust in the story I told him and was was released back into the ranks. My title was restored to me, but for a little while many doubted me and had suspicion. I worked harder than ever to get back to where I was. I came back at an interesting time. It seemed the Sinestrath were planning to wage war on all of Caenyr. In the stress of the time, Brooklyn stepped away from her position of leadership. Yes, Verin and Estiana were no longer seated in the Dark Knight thrones. Now they looked over the Dark City. Brooklyn's husband Vebrensepa was the Commander, Kall had become the General, a man named Julian was the Archbishop, his wife Keilin was the Seer, and a man named Derelle was now the Wraithmaster. So much had changed. As I was saying before, The Preceptor stepped down, and the Defiler, Vebrensepa, became the new Master of the Dark Knights. As the position Commander was open, I was promoted. What an honor it was. Iirima Rauko, Siren of the Dark Knights, Commander of the Legion of Misery. I was achieving heights I had not dreamed of. My Lord Melivar also saw something in me, for I was granted the privilege of becoming an Inquisitor. I was assigned my own Flock of followers. My child was a son. I named him after the man that should have fathered him. His name is Nalfein Asmodeus Rauko. He is growing fast, though he does not resemble me much. He is quite strong for his age. I am surprised the effect he has on me. I thought my heart was long ago hardened to love. It seems it is not, for the love I feel for him is unmeasurable. I would die for him, without a second thought. Life has been good for us here, since we returned. I only expect it to get better.
Part Five: War Within
The war came to us, long after we expected it. We were well prepared for its arrival. The Sinestrath had already waged war on much of Caenyr, demolishing many town in their path. We were to be different. The stand we made here was history in the making. It was my greatest trial in my new position as Commander. I spent day and night in the War Room, plotting the Sinestrath's progression, planning our defenses. I only left the War Room to lead my soldiers in Battle Exercises. The Sinestrath Commander tried to offer an alliance. Fool, we have no allies and we need none. Our army is unchallenged. We are superior, even to them. They claimed they would attack within three days, yet months passed and no war came to our lands. That was unwise of them, they gave us time to prepare. Our preparations were elaborate. The maggot, Fyyll Homer, was in charge of excavating caves to hold half of our army as well as siege weaponry. Off shore, sharpened tree trunks speared up from the surface, sure to impale any ship that tries to strong arm its way ashore. Mages with the ability of controlling the elements were called upon, they were to summon earth elements to reinforce the walls of the Castle. Our battle and defense plans were numerous. Perhaps the Sinestrath had power, but without superior organization, they were doomed. The battle came upon us and we were ready for it. The General and I guarded the castle with our troops. The Master made headway for the Dark City. Fyyll worked hand in hand with the troops hidden in the in shore caves. The battle was long and the losses were heavy for both sides. Blood soaked the lands. For days, the cries of battle rose and fell in the wind. The General and I waited for the battle to reach us. It came first from the sea. The General took his troops tho the rear of the castle, meeting the Sinestrath forces head on. It was not long before Sinestrath forces also reached the front walls. The summoned earth elements held their ground. When one was demolished, another quickly replaced it. Catapults launched, arrows filled the air. Both sides were throwing all their arsenal. The Sinestrath tried to come over the wall. It was not easy to keep them back. Only a handful made it over, but they were swiftly cut down and thrown into the pike filled moat. Almost as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. A signal flare lit the dark skies and the Sinestrath were in retreat. We did not let them leave in peace. We continued our onslaught, cutting down their numbers as best we could. We would teach them to siege these lands. No prisoners were taken, if they were caught they were killed, if they lay dying in the Fields, they were left to suffer out a long miserable death. Our victory, although not overwhelming, was none the less, a victory. My first war won as the Commander, I am off to a good start.
//I wrote this story perhaps five years back or so now, So I apologize if it is a bit shoddy or poorly put together