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There's something wonderful and terrible about a blank page. It's got all that wonderful emptyness, like a great promise that's just waiting to be fulfilled. Ah, infinite possebility from simple nothingness.
But, look what happens the moment you stop to jot something down: the endlessness collapses and the finite emerges with every mark on the page and every stroke of your pen. After a minute or two of writing, you look down and instead of the brilliant magnum opus you expect to see, there's only a bit of triffling maunder, an amphigory if you're lucky.

I'm looking now at the Book of Obsidia, and its pages that were once filled to the brim with arcana obscura, bits of prophecy, and recipes for bbq chicken, have now gone bone ivory blank. Even that layer of sickly green patina is gone now and the end result is the Obsidian Order went out with a whimper. A consolation, I suppose, could be that the Alliance has faded away as well; it seems whatever forces that brought us clashing together have lost interest, moved onto bigger and better things, maybe even gone to work their manipulations in other clans, who knows.

I thought briefly about changing careers and become a professional wrestler. It didn't go so well...at all...ouch. I'll leave the career changes to the driven like Terrance. Besides, there's still the matter of getting the ol' doppelganger some conciousness, and for that I am grateful I took good notes from Obsidia's Book.

Posted by Rowane de'Dannan at 9:00 PM | Permalink | Comments

War is a funny thing. Sometimes it happens so fast that your whole polis or hamlet or nation is drawn up, galvanized, and marshaled. Soon, you can hardly remember how you got there, just that you're there in the thick of it and fighting for you life. It's a common feeling for those not in the "know." The gods, they “know” though. They know why we fight, and more often then not, they are the cause of the fights. Their far-reaching gaze can see that weave we call fate as easily as we can see the back of our hands, and use it to their amusement. That’s life. But not even the gods, not Zeus himself, can change our fate or their own; all they can do is enjoy the ride.
There are some wars that simmer and there was such a simmer when I was a young boy called the Trojan War. I remember standing on the docks of Ithaca, and my mother and sisters watched as the black hulled boats faded off into an azure sea. Artemis had taken her favor away from Agamemnon and the ships were slow going with no wind to fill their sails. The only sound I remember was the rhythmic slap of oars hitting the water in unison. My father was on one of the boats; I can remember watching the boat he was on until they were far offshore and my eyes burned from lack of blinking. I did eventually, but only because a white cap burst over the wooden planks of the docks, covering my face with a cold salty spray. I rubbed frantically, but when I opened them I had lost his ship. They all looked the same after a point, nameless black specks dotting the blue stripe of horizon.
I used to curse the house of Atreus, like my curses would override an already gods-damned family, but now I save my breath. Fate would see to their line in time.
Now I find myself embroiled in a simmer with the Alliance. Like the Trojan War where the Greeks stood before breaching the walls of Illium after 10 years, this war is characterized by doldrums of stillness with very brief gusts of activity. It’s nerve-racking, but that’s mostly because I seem to be the only one on the field. With the exception of that witch, Vincenza, I haven’t seen another follower of the Book for months. Only a week ago I had the Book stolen from me by that Alliance half-mage, Edmond. And only with ingenuity and a bit of luck I was able to claim it back. And then I had another battle with an old comrade in arms, Meue, which was fought to a standstill. These experiences and others like it have made me acknowledge that the Alliance has the upper hand in warriors on the field. We enjoyed strength in numbers in the beginning but the tide is against us now. What was the Book’s intention of bringing the believers together if we only fade away into nothingness now?
It’s a possibility. It’s possible that there’ll never be an answer because I am not in the “know”. But I don’t want to be presumptuous. Presumption is equal to hubris and we all know how that goes for us Greeks. I’ll hang on to the Order for as long as I can and scour the Book for our version of the Trojan horse. And if I don’t find it, then nothing could have been done. Life will go on as it always does, unless fate has some other plans for me, that is.

Posted by Rowane de'Dannan at 12:03 PM | Permalink | Comments