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I learned two days ago that another clan has formed seemingly in direct opposition with our order. They’ve taken the name, Alliance. I know their leader well, a man by the name of Meue. We both served under Freaky in the Broken Angelz. Frankly, it puts me on edge. I’ve never seen someone better with a rifle than Meue; he has this stoic composure when he fights, and he is utterly relentless, never giving an inch. It’s an awesome sight to see when you’re not on the receiving end.

I didn’t know what to make of the news until yesterday, when in Salem I was blinded by a teenie-bopper witch named Tina. She had been a clever one and had struck invisible. I followed her trail to an intersection where Meue, Geraden, and Tina were waiting. I attacked Tina and kept a watchful eye on Meue, but he just looked on, with his cold eyes fixed on me.

I felt exuberance. Normally when I fight, I’m focused on nothing more than staying alive, but the feeling was different. There was something familiar about it. I’ve never fought Tina before as far as I can remember, and I’m pushing onto 60 years old, but nevertheless, there it was: Déjà vu.

But déjà vu doesn't cloud my judgement. My options for fighting were limited. With all three of them in the same room, I couldn’t cast blinding flash; anyway, casting magic isn’t the best idea in Salem. So I fled my olive-skinned butt out of there. I confirmed later that Tina was in the Alliance so I was right to not press my luck.

The next day in Tudor, I overheard a few peasants talking about a new merchant in town, with a “cold-eyed” stare. Meue had tracked me. In the Angelz, he loved disguises, slipping almost seamlessly into the town's populous, before springing a trap on a target. So I decided to strike first. The moment he entered, so quietly that if I hadn’t cast detect hidden he would have had the drop on me, I ordered my titan to attack. He fled, I followed, locked in him a house, and proceeded to beat the stuffing out of him; again that same sense of familiarity came over me as we fought in that house. I or someone before me had done this before.
When it was done, I looked down at the beaten body of a former comrade. I knew then that this was only the beginning.
I think I’m getting too old for this.

Posted by Rowane de'Dannan at 11:51 AM | Permalink | Comments

It's now been nearly a week since my coming into contact with the Book of Obsidia. It's been just about that long since I've last slept.

I'm back in Nadia's library where I first found the Book, sprawled out on her cushions, and trying like Hades to get back to sleep.

I first found the Book five days ago when in a fit of boredom, I was perusing Nadia's shelves, thinking that I might find some interesting arcana of note. I riffled through the usual 7 Circles spellbooks and scrolls. Good reads but I had already seen most of them already. I was about to give up when I heard a rustle of pages on the shelf above me. I know it was an empty shelf, I'd bet my doppelganger's life on it, yet there It was.

I can't say that the Book drew me to it aesthetically (it has this funky gangrenous color that reminds me of a certain someone) but something about it was irresistible to pick up. But I'm no fool, I dispelled and recited two moldy scrolls on It before I was satisfied enough to pick it up. It fit perfectly, in my hands, like It had been made for me.

I don't remember leaving Nadia's house; it was only when droplets of rain started to fall on the book did I realize that I was in the Carthaginian market with the sun already setting. I had been wandering all day. Come to think of it, I didn't even open the Book. I was just enjoying the tactile sensation of it in my hands, the bevels and hidden contours of It. It was marvelous.

Time must have slowed when I did open it. I thought at first Helios must have lost the reigns of his chariot and the sun was blazing across the sky with the moon folllowing in suite. I remember the smell of a Carthaginian marketplace; the icy spray of a whitecaps; cobbled Roman roads; the annoying cold of the north; blue painted warriors; and lastly a dank hillfort.

I wasn't alone in that hillfort. When my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw that there were four others were there as well.

Most of them were enemies, Namely that scarred gangster, Salvatore. There was no fear though. I knew it wasn't a trap, which is retrospect seems odd. At the time I knew that we were all there for the same purpose. Just what that was I'm still trying to figure out.
Each of us held in their hand, It. And from It there exuded a brotherhood that swept aside all previous enmity.

We spoke all night, talking of the Book and Obsidia (from what I learned, an ancient prophet) and when the morning came, we formed a clan that saught to spread the truth and protect Legend from something ancient, and evil, as Obsidia had done in his time.

We went our seperate ways as peacefully as we had come in. Eventually, for me, the euphoria gave way again to the dull stupor of not having slept for a few days with no food or water.

Somehow I found my way to my old family home in Ithaca and slumped down at the docks. There were no poetic thoughts about starting another chapter in my life at the same point where I had so many decades ago. I was just zoning out at the sound of the water lapping at the rocks, which was were Nadia found me.

I like Nadia. She must have seen or sensed that I was in a bad way and helped me back to her house. As I flopped on her cushions, I could sense her watching me while she fixed us some food. I would have declinded but I had already drifting off to sleep. I think I may have been rambling.

She was gone when I awoke three hours later. I've been trying to head back to bed since but no luck. I'm writing, obviously. Soon I'll open up the Book again and I will be filled with the Truth.

Posted by Rowane de'Dannan at 2:16 PM | Permalink | Comments