Through the eyes of Sveta Asperan

PiaMango · Unread post by **PiaMango** » Wed Oct 22, 2014 1:52 am

Through the eyes of Sveta Asperan
Head Watchknight of the Everwatch, Knight of House Chroster

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PiaMango · Unread post by **PiaMango** » Mon Nov 10, 2014 6:01 am

Letters home

The sheer curtains waved gently in the Autumn breeze clouding Sveta's view of the Could Peaks as she held her quill in contemplation. Winter had already passed on her first journey to Nashkel. They say the winters in the small township are not for the weak hearted, Sveta however seemed excited to see the Cloud Peaks covered fully in snow of the first time. The small township reminded her of her younger days in the country side on the outskirts of Waterdeep, something she sorely missed during her time within the city training. Closing her eyes for a brief moment her quill finally found its way upon the parchment.

Father,

I am beginning to find my time is scarce, however I will make effort to write more often in the future. I will admit I have made some missteps already in my leadership. It was not something that I believe either of us thought would come so soon, perhaps it was my youthful ambition that had instilled the thought I was prepared.

There was a time when I tried to micro-manage every aspect of the watch. I began neglecting my own health and allow time for my own needs, the White Mask theatre open nights became a distant memory. Stress built till it showed through unwarranted anger. The first few steps in new shoes are the ones you’re most likely to stumble in. A person, who I would now consider very close to me, has helped me work through this, to enjoy life while also performing my duty. They left for Waterdeep not too long ago. It was hard for me to not join them, however I am needed at the temple for the foreseeable future.

I wrote last about a sword, Sventar. It is becoming clearer to me how to consider it, tool or being. To my understating, both and neither, residing on its own category. While it was created as a weapon of power, I believed it has evolved into far greater than that. In revealing it in private council some were quick to label it as evil given its destructive power. It is a foreign idea for me to apply such moral scope to a sword. Would that make my own sword evil as it was crafted for efficient use in battle? No. A sword can be used in evil means, but that does not make the sword inherently evil. I am begging to find some get lost in the concepts of good and evil, order and chaos that they fail to realise the larger picture.

That being said the sword does show somewhat of a moral compass, while it acts as a faithful servant to its bound master it has stated should the master act against the accordance of its nature it may not support its masters actions. Also, the way in which it seeks its master is meticulous. The sword requires one to prove a righteous heart before it would consider them worthy, expressed by its refusal to serve the worshipers of Umberlee. In the past it has shown the ability to think for itself, however just recently it was revealed it feels emotion. I do hope once the conflict surrounding it has been resolved that we will be able to allow it freedom from its holding in the temple. I still find myself referring to it as him on occasion.

Contemplating upon my role as liaison for the Council of Six in the Duchal Court I realise my objectives walking into their halls were astray. I had been too eager to impress the Coinlords by achieving their wishes that I neglected to realise for true peace to be achieved it must come through mutual effort by both governing bodies. I hope to remedy that in the coming tendays as I draft a proposal that will see the Tradeway stabilised with mutual investment from both Baldur’s Gate and Amn.

From my visit to Athkatla many months ago I now realise that the finical pressures laid upon Governess Benino by the Coinlords’ dissatisfaction with tax collection are the main source of the weight of her iron grip over the township. Which in turn is the main source of disdain from the people of Beregost, an unhappy population is not a productive one, and if something is not to be done it may continue to downward spiral. The Tradeway is the lifeblood of commerce along the Sword Coast. I pray that my efforts will see the embers of life within Beregost be given the fuel it needs to flourish into flame.

There is still great disdain from the people of Baldur’s Gate over the people of Amn, which is understandable, we have already studied the war together in much detail. It was not long ago that I was approached by a man wishing for me to call for blood of the person responsible for orchestrating the siege of Gullykin. From my investigations so far there hasn’t been enough evidence to show it worthy of more blood being spilt. Spilling more blood is not my opinion of moving forward, as suggested by Ameris a monument to commemorate the lives that were lost may be more fitting. I hold doubts I will be able to convince the Council of Six to impart a token of goodwill along with monument to help reconcile for the tragedy and aid with the reconstruction, however it is worth trying. While stabilising trade is a step forward it does little to address the tension held by its denizens.

I am beginning to find my duty lays not only with the sword, but with the well spoken word and pen also.

Tell mother I love her.

Your daughter,
Sveta Asperan

PiaMango · Unread post by **PiaMango** » Thu Dec 04, 2014 9:45 pm

Adversity
Sveta's third sermon

Brothers and sisters in faith, with all the differences in the paths we lead. Be it service to the Church, to the realm, or to one’s family, we hold least one trial in common. We must all face adversity. It is in the nature of our duty that we share that these times are to come more often than not, and it is the first challenge we learn to overcome, to stand in such times vigilant, and calculated.

In periods of good health, of good fortunes, one can grow complacent in their comfort. Within their security a feeling that it is deserved and a natural state can come to be, to when that comfort and security is taken away it can seem like injustice. It is then crucial that one not let such feeling brood anger, or despair. In times of misfortune one must learn to minister their emotions and not allow them to cloud ones judgement.

A brave man I once knew Davion, bless his soul, was by my side through many struggles. He was my mentor throughout my cadetship during my time in Waterdeep, and a close personal friend. It is well known to us that our duty often leads to conflict and adversity. It was in the day he fell that I felt my first true trial, and I will admit I failed. Seeing him crumple to the ground my vision blurred, and judgement fell from reason. I neglected my training, the words of guidance of the very man who lay lifeless to the ground near me. Within myself I cried out, we have always been faithful servants to you Great Guardian, how could this happen?

It was in that anger that lead to me nigh on joining his side upon the ground, and nor should it be how one views their faith, with expectation. To control of ones emotions while faced with adversity is no easy thing to master. In speaking with the monistic orders of Waterdeep one can learn a range of meditative techniques, from peace found in solace, through mastery of an art or skill, one can find meditation in the solitude of training their sword or body. It was often given as a stark warning that one should not seek control over their emotions by burying them, to shunt them away and grow detached from the world. One should find time to enjoy a laugh with a close friend, to read a poem, or to enjoy briefly in the fruits of the world that we strive so tirelessly to protect.

As such, I will be sharing with you today words by James Lowell, words that I hold close in mind, especially since my arrival to Nashkel.

Once to every man and nation, comes the moment to decide,
In the strife of truth with falsehood, for the good or evil side.
Some great cause, some great decision, offering each the bloom or blight,
And the choice goes by forever, ’twixt that darkness and that light.

Then to side with truth is noble, when we share her wretched crust,
Ere her cause bring fame and profit, and ’tis prosperous to be just.
Then it is the brave man chooses while the coward stands aside,
Till the multitude make virtue of the faith they had denied.

Though the cause of evil prosper, yet the truth alone is strong,
Though her portion be the scaffold, and upon the throne be wrong.
Yet that scaffold sways the future, and behind the dim unknown,
Standeth Helm within the shadow, keeping watch, keeping watch above his own.

Then it is the brave man chooses while the coward stands aside. In times of adversity given two equally difficult choices the coward chooses a third option, to fail to choose at all. It is in making that decision one must realise where our duty holds, we are guardians in his name, benevolent peacekeepers. Our duty holds as much to the realm as to the Great Guardian, in failing our duty to the realm we in turn fail our duty to him. Helm understands the limitations of his mortal servants, and he is magnanimous.

PiaMango · Unread post by **PiaMango** » Sat Dec 27, 2014 8:41 pm

Wandering thoughts
((A little backdated}}

Travelling to and fro Baldur’s Gate has become a frequent occurrence for Sveta. Despite the distance she does not mind it often, the soft rhythmic clopping of her horse Light gives a drumming beat to which her thoughts are allowed to wander on. A small glimpse of solace she cherishes. As she begins her travels south along the Trade Way words from the previous day stick in her head.

Try to remember.. it is not the Flaming Fist who has jurisdiction on these docks.

It is mind sets such as these that give the delinquents of Faerun clout, their true strength. It festers corruption and taints the souls of young. Misconduct in no manner should be tolerated. Her actions were frivolous, unjust. I should have put a stop to it then, but on technicalities she left no choice.

As by father’s words, morale holds a sharper weapon than any sword. It is thought such as these that seed the opportunity for corruption to flourish, for crimes to go overlooked in the sake of self-preservation or of loved ones. An officer of the Flaming Fist would be more receptive of delinquency, bribery to turn a blind eye with such a mind set.

Our duty, my duty, which we swear to uphold is to strive for a society wherein such thoughts are non-existent. The world is rich and fruitful, the taint of mans greed does not see more fruit bear, it sees those fruits spoiled, fallen from the tree rotted. The law and governance of society strives to maintain that, a notion many seem forgetful of.

To submit to their will is to encourage their actions. The coin that she handed over will undoubtedly be used to cultivate the corruption within the docks. In a city of one hundred thousand to believe that there is no taint would be naïve, and I hold no doubts if conflict did spark that the two degenerates standing before us were not to be the only we would have to face.

Yet as I stood there, my years of dedicated training, training for situations such as these. While outnumbered alone as a bulwark it would take more than petty thieves and scum to falter that stance. An adamant precedence must be set. I must speak to her. It is easy for a lost wanderer to be blinded from the dark path he walks, as much they needed be reminded there is a better way they must be forewarned their taint will not be tolerated.

I was trained as a pious enforcer. Not as a diplomat… not as a politician…

Her thoughts slowly drift off to other subjects seeming no more pleased.

PiaMango · Unread post by **PiaMango** » Tue Feb 17, 2015 3:12 am

A Dance with Dragons

Within Sveta's many files within the House of the Guardian there is a drawer set aside for one purpose, files upon persons of interests, suspects to crimes and known degenerates who walk freely. Within this drawer there sits a file that has been skimmed over the past few weeks, yet no additions have been made for almost a moon now.

(( Written and released with the permission of Nomster. It is specifically requested that the following information is not metagamed, and purpose is to give some insight into Sveta's thoughts and reasoning behind her actions ))

Telia Navra

Appearance:
She holds a youthful appearance, being in her early to mid-twenties, that one could possibly describe as amaranthine. Being of normal height for a human her most distinguishing features are her pale unmarred skin, green eyes and jet black hair.

Common attire:
Commonly in dress, for travelling or hiding tunics are favoured.

She seems to favour darker, rich coloured gowns of fine make. Royal reds, deep purples, and blacks seem to dominate her wardrobe. Notes of jewellery are shown. She seems to strive for an outward appearance of one of high standings in the strata of society, or at least a woman holding power.

Her travel attire seems to consist of tunics generally of lighter shades. While in hiding she favoured a light earthen green hooded tunic.

Distinctive traits:
It is implied that she may be considered a quaintrelle, and that the allure of the Zhenterim might have been one to maintain that lifestyle. It has been learned however that she held high standing in the White Mask Theatre and stood as a likely candidate for the role as director, suggesting the draw to the Zhentarim came from another source, likely from a personal connection with an affiliate of the Black Network.

She holds a realist opinion of the world. I have found insight which I overlooked, or at least wished not to be true, in discussions with her. ~~I should be wary of what I speak to her on.~~

A strong personal pride and unstable emotions, ~~these may prove to be an issue.~~ These have proven to be issues.

Accusations:
Suspected active Zhentarim agent
Suspected practiser of Blood Magic

15th of Uktar

I begin this report today, however this was not my first encounter with the lady Navra. That occurred on the 1st of Uktar during the masquerade hosted by the Song of the Morning. There a dance was shared, under the veil of a Red Dragon costume her identity remained unknown to me. The Red Dragon’s presence seemed to effect Ameris in a strong way, her singing voice when he and I shared a dance seemed to put him in an entranced, yet tense state. His avoidance of my enquiries into the name behind that singing voice sparked my curiosity, a curiosity that grew when I mentioned the night a few days later while in decision on unrelated matters with Ameris. A meeting was promised hesitantly, rights of guests to the House of the Guardian reassured.

It was today that meeting occurred. Her name was finally learned, Telia Navra, a former high ranking Zhentarim diplomat and magus. It was assured to me by Telia that she had renounced her connections to the Black Network and during her time with the Dark Hold she committed no crimes against the laws of Baldur’s Gate nor Amn. I do not thoroughly believe this, contradictory evidence will be needed to be sought.

The discussion flowed onto topics that perhaps I should not have touched, however I found no harm in speaking of them, they will be made public knowledge shortly and her insight proved useful. Perhaps she is right and my ambitions may be a bit too idealistic, I will have to reconsider them.

It is my sworn duty to protect the unpopular, an offer of sanctuary was given on conditions within the House of the Guardian. It is said that giving a man a mask will unveil his true nature, time will tell if Telia truly is a red dragon.

17th of Uktar

I spoke to a source upon Telia and learned more of her past and the deceit she spun over the years. I learned of the life she gave up when her affiliation with the Black Network were discovered. The source was doubtful of Telia’s honesty and seemed very confident that this was another ploy oh hers in attempt to infiltrate the House of the Guardian. They warned me to proceed with extreme caution, and what I picked up is there may be issues with her personal pride and ability to follow orders. A test will be laid for her on her next arrival to the temple.

There was some hope discussed however, it was agreed that if Telia is sincere that the upcoming tournament would be a good chance for her to have a taste of the life she gave up as a performer. I am unsure presently of what the public opinion of her however. It seems while I have been unable to find any solid leads upon crimes committed by her she seems to have made a number of enemies.

Affiliation with the Black Network in itself is neither against the laws of Amn or Baldur's Gate, it has been in my thoughts over the past days upon whether it should be. My source also informed me that it is believed she practices in blood magic.

18th of Uktar

The demands were not met. I can understand her reasons for this, and in such the test in itself was not failed by this. I had intention of speaking with her thoroughly of the motivations and circumstances which led her to the Zhentarim in hopes of gaining a better understanding of the lady. That being said I do think my demands were unreasonable, it is common in places such as the Friendly Arm Inn for magus be forced to wear a similar binding on visiting. She departed from the temple, something inside me does hope that she does find life anew in society. I had hoped to provide a safe haven for Ameris to be able to be able to council her through that transition. My demands however will not change.

30th of Uktar

It was only today that she did return alongside Ameris. It did seem that it was he that had to encourage her to visit. The binding was accepted, Ameris demanding one of this own as a matter of symbology. They were led to the private meeting hall and bindings released as predetermined, Telia somewhat confused by the matter. Repeating a part of Ameris’ own argument against the binding, symbols do matter. This was a test against Telia’s pride, it was not passed.

Her motivation for seeking my audience was not in relation to the sanctuary offered but in relation to the sword. It was already aware to me that the Zhentarim does know of its presence, and that a tome with information relating to matters surrounding it. A council is to form in relation to this in the coming days, while there will be undoubtedly controversy over the source of the information. However I believe it is best that it is something the council discusses in person.

7th of Nightal

Perhaps I underestimated the extent of the controversy that would rise from her presence. Some of the members of the council have proven to be inexorable in the past, it may have proven easier to present her information in a written form. However I had wished for her presence for questions to be allowed to pry more insight from that information.

Accusations flew and tensions were high, I asked for presentable claims on the conclusion of the council yet those who spoke out against her failed to approach me with such, and so the sanctuary will remain should she chose to take it. Telia seemed to look forward for a chance to perform in the upcoming tournament, however by her own words the performances should not detract from the tournament itself, if her mere presence was capable of this that offer will have to be reconsidered.

My suspicions of Telia still remain high, especially after today. The accusations shouted at the council primarily consisted of only her connection to the Zhentarim, I have yet to hear solid claims of any transgressions performed by Telia. It is easier to keep eye upon a suspect if they are kept close.

14th of Nightall

While it was no longer intended for Telia to perform at the tournament her presence was noted. The actions she performed against Kalma Hellstorm were frivolous, injudicious and while given her relationship with Ameris the motives of those actions are understandable in some regard they are not excusable. For Telia to be able to reconcile with society she must understand that she must stand accountable for her actions. In the chaos that erupted from her emotional state she left little chance to explore the actions of Kalma Hellstorm, and for Watchpriest Pablo to determine whether his actions were malicious.

Refer to Kalma Hellstorm’s file for further comments upon the incident and a copy of the written statement submitted to Amnian authorities from my account.

16th of Nightall

I was unable to attend Telia’s hearing with the Amnian authorities due to a conference in Baldur’s Gate, I later meet here there. It seems as I had hoped the local authorities of Nashkel were understanding and the repercussions laid upon her appropriate. In discussion with Endelyon it seems Telia has been offering insight into a variety of efforts within the Gate, her proposal to resolve the situation brewing in Soubar was very much just that, insightful.

20th of Hammer

My suspicions on Telia wane, she continues to stand by Ameris’ proving only to be a boon and has received a pardon from the Dukes of Baldur’s Gate, although the details are unbeknownst to me. I retire this report here until evidence rises that resurface those suspicions. She seems to be committed to starting life anew and I will continue to support her in that.

PiaMango · Unread post by **PiaMango** » Mon Apr 06, 2015 8:54 am

Letters home

Father,

It was under strange circumstances I found myself originally writing this letter. I am still trying to make sense of what occurred, feeling I was taken part of some bad dream, the wounds left a stark reminder it was not. Do not fear however, after two days of disorientation time and care has healed those wounds. It is a tale for another time though, ask me of it next we meet.

Send my regards to mother, Elliot and Andria. I hope to read one day soon of Elliot finally asking for Andria's hand in marriage, my brother has always shied away from commitments, yet it seems for as long as I remember they have been together. I have little myself to write of in that regard. I had thought I had found someone many months ago, however it did not last. I will not deny having feelings for them at first, though those did not last as the person I came to love ceased to be that person. It is still not clear to my whether it was the mask that was slowly unveiled, a whited sepulcher, or if they truly did change despite my influence. For months now I have not seen the, perhaps it is for the best. The heart can sometimes be cruel I the ones it chooses to love.

The disease plaguing Baldur's Gate is thankfully subsiding, however hunger, poverty, and malnutrition will mean it is still a long road forward for Baldur's Gate in getting back upon its feet. I cannot help but consider if more forward action, such as I proposed, had been under taken that a stranglehold upon the disease could have been made before it spread further. It is unlikely it would have not, there were flaws that would have undermined the plan, but I cannot stop it from bringing thoughts of frustration. I know I should not linger upon the what-ifs, I feel though there is a lesson to be learned here.

On my arrival to Nashkel, I had thought it was the city that was growing upon me. I have since found it was my friendship with Wai Li that brought a homely feeling to the temple there, something I have come to realise when she departed south in aid of her former mentor in the Tethyrian civil war. She reminds me much of you Father, outspoken in tempering our blades with mercy and compassion, something I attempt to carry on in teachings to my Watchknights. I do hope one day you have the chance to meet her. Often I find myself thinking of her, it has been months since I have heard word from her. I must write to her.

With Wai Li's absence I feel a foreigner to Amn. Nashkel beings to feel empty to me. The feeling of honour gained from operating out of a holy temple in which Helm's divine form has made its presence touch has since waned. I still visit often on duty however my focus now is upon Baldur's Gate. While there is still much that can be done, and should be done for the people of Northern Amn my attempts at negotiating with the Council of Six and their representatives have bared only few fruits. There is much the Everwatch can do for the people of Baldur's Gate, there are also far more business prospects for me to expand upon. However the primary reason I have found myself reluctant to leave Baldur's Gate is companionship, friendship, something since Wai Li's departure I lacked.

Next we meet do ask me of Ameris and Telia, they hold a story I feel you would much enjoy hearing of, but it is one far too long to do justice just within this letter. I'm quite looking forward to my friendly spar with the Ilmateri priest Ameris. I will admit to having let my sword arm grow rusty over the past months, it will be a good opportunity to oil it before the charity tournament I am to host this coming end of tenday. The art of swordplay has been always something I have enjoyed, it is my hope that I will be able to partake, and host more duels and tournaments in the future. I have yet to fully master the family sword, there are still disconnections I need mastering.

Over the past month I have received a subordinate with traces of orcish bloodline, it is my first time working along such a man of such great stature. The faith I have instilled in his only continues to pay dividends, his militaristic training has done well to control and temper his orcish blood. He holds great potential in the shield of his, while I may have bested him in our spar many tendays ago I feel it may not be long till I struggle to break through that bulwark of his if I neglect my own training. I do hope to work with him in contracts in the coming future.

There was a woman I met yesterday, Eleanor, a peasant she named herself, aspiring to knighthood. While our initial reasons for seeking knighthood were different, mine born out of vengeance and spite, hers more noble and in care of her family, her youthful ambition, righteous passion, and potential brings forth memories of a more youthful version of myself. I do hope to facilitate her training as a knight, she is in a vulnerable state, lacking the martial expertise and equipment. Her righteous heart might lead her into situations she is not yet prepared for, the Central Sword Coast is still in an unstable state. She is determined to take upon the path as a Triadic knight. While I, nor the Everwatch would stand in the way of her faith should she decide to train under us, she is perhaps what the Order of the Radiant Heart needs. A youthful, hopeful outlook to aid in restoring their glory from the tragedies they have faced.

Meeting Eleanor has made me reflect upon the year that has passed since I left Waterdeep. Your guidance is sorely missed, but in my independence I feel I have grown tremendously as a person and in my ideals. I do have my regrets of some of my actions, but they are to be learned from.

As I look upon myself in the mirror I see a face that has been matured. There is still much I wish to achieve in my life, my ambitions for the new year have been renewed. This world is rife with discord. I have devoted my life to fighting for peace and freedoms; and I will leave my mark.

With love,
Your daughter,
Sveta Asperan

PiaMango · Unread post by **PiaMango** » Thu May 07, 2015 8:50 pm

The Crimson Bull

The door lurched open in front of her to her residence, her blurred vision caught sight of those gathered in her house. Her eyes refused to met theirs, too shameful for them to see her in this state. Her shouts fiercely voicing that. “Out!” It was not Sveta, nor the Head Watchknight that entered.

”All of you out!” Her heavy pants marked ached steps towards the weapon rack. A firm grip met the hilt of the training sword its hand had grown well familiar with over the past tendays in training against her recruits. Figures walked through the door however one remained defiant to the bull's demands. The priest spread his arms open to the beast. ”I have not left yet, Head Watchknight.”

“Out!” The bull snorted once more struggling to contain the emotion whelming up inside of it, a step staggered forward in warning toward the priest, the stomp warning of a charge. “It does not seem to me that you are yourself, Head Watchknight. In fact, I was told of something that seemed most unlike you.”

The priests words fell on deaf ears as another step forward. Her bloodshot eyes held fury in them as they fixed upon the feet of the priest, still too shameful to meet his gaze. ”Can I have some water first?” The priest took a breath, turning away from the Bull, however his choice of direction was away from the door, visibly displeasing the beast inside. The steps towards the priest gathered in momentum.

The priest turned to face the bull seeing it break charge, a second hand meeting the grip of the training sword. The apoplexy gave strength to the sword, overwhelming the bull as it begun its swing towards the priest waist. To his knees the priest dropped as the charge was made, his head taking the brunt of the charge throwing him back onto the floor behind him.

A clang of her sword meeting the titled floor marked the crashing of the woman to the ground beside the priest who with but a groan laid insensible still. The woman who once carried herself with pride slumped into a ball as emotion broke through. She wept. She wept for the first time in three years. As consciousness was restored to the priest, he attempted to stand spitting blood from his split lips, he fell once more. Pushing himself to his knees he reached out for her shoulder, his voice laced with pain. “What occurs, Head Watchknight...What occurs.”

His voice fell upon deaf ears as the woman broke his grasp crawling to her bedroom. She was followed shortly after by the priest who spent a few moments to gather his breaths. With slow, pained steps the priest came to see Sveta sitting against her foot board a book in her lap searching through it for a specific page. As Ameris slumped against the dresser she came stop to a page, glaring at it a hand creased at the top of the page ready to rip it free from the book. Ameris' voice slurred by his swollen, split lips. “Head Watchknight. Something destroyed is hard to remake. Before you tear that out, speak to me of it.”

Some calmness restored to Sveta as the fury passed, her hand fell free. ”She was right...” Her silence finally broken. ”She was right.” She repeated to herself. ”She was right.” Again, quicker. ”Right about what?” Her silence returned seeming to be on her own world, she glanced up to the desk a few feet in front of her for a long while. To the desk Ameris made his way slowly. ”What do you wish for, Sveta?” Silence was met by his question again, her focus solely upon the page. He returned with the ink and quill from the desk, his guess correct as Sveta reached out for them, unable to meet his gaze. Her breathing grew heavy as he was near, perhaps a warning. After stealing a glance to the page he retreated.

In silence she wrote a final verse in catharsis. Retreating to her bed to hide beneath her sheets the book was left open the quill on the floor beside it. Scooting forward Ameris read from the book.

Music came with the winds of spring,
His ears perked, head cant to the song,
To the forest he was their king,
The foreign tune did not belong

Through his ground he strode head held high,
Yet subjects were not to be found.
Within him their loyalty lies,
For atop his head he was crowned.

His forest silent but the song,
The song continued on, foreign.
Head lowered in search, it was wrong,
Nests empty, so were the warrens.

Convinced a song of sedition,
Each stride the beat began to seep,
A bitter conflict to tradition.
He came halt to a frightful cheep.

Stood there beneath the azure sight,
His subjects in rhythm to dance.
A hoof sounded in defiant might,
To save his pride, to break the trance.

Yet the song was one of freedom,
His efforts naught above the birch.
For him to win back his kingdom,
Upon his crown the bird must perch.

The final verse is written in a shaky hand, her recent addition.

For the stags feet were but grounded,
Yet the wings of his songbird free.
A tenacious hoof stomp sounded,
The winds blew on, so stayed his plea.

She was right.
A king should not waste his life chasing after such a ~~trivial~~ thing.
It makes him weak.

The word trivial later crossed out.

”I am not sure that is true. What you have written here. We might give up some of our freedom for others, yes. But it is not a trivial thing. And the surest way to losing the fire to defend freedom is to deny your own so wholly that your soul becomes clad only in metal. We must be human in our dealings; even if we remain with dignity. If we deny ourselves everything, we become less than human. Without freedom, without joy, without laughter, it is suffering for suffering's sake. My god is austere, but he laughs along with the children.”

The priests words fell again on deaf ears of Sveta curling up in a ball on the bed, lost in her own thoughts.

“You have found pain in pursuit of a thing. You have given up...you were told to give up. And it hurts.” ”She was right, it makes him weak.” The words of her squire seeming to loop endlessly in her mind. ”Pain...untreated...will do that. Enduring and learning from experience...will not. I have been pained like you are now. I know what that is like. You should know, Head Watchknight, that words said to a priest are in confidence. You should not bottle your pain. It is how wounds to the heart fester. And that is how Paladins fall. If you do not want to speak to me now, I will come by another time. Or come find me in the temple. But come and find me. It is your duty to do it.”

Again he is only met by silence from Sveta tightening her grip about the sheets around her. The priest rose. ”You are not weak. You are alive; and we all stumble from time to time. Do not mark that as failure. Its how we handle our humanity that marks us as strong, not the lack of it. And you have a duty to others that you willingly embrace. And that duty requires you to accept a blessing of healing when a sword cuts you so you might fight on. This...this is the same. Mercy bless you, Head Watchknight.”

With those final words he left Sveta to her own thoughts. Months.... months of waiting for a calmer day... her Squire could see how it weakened her, how could she not until now. Her idolism, her yearning... it was all but a chimera.

Her anger, her fury, it did not come from the abandonment of her pursuit, it came from the painful words said to her by a friend and in resentment of herself.

PiaMango · Unread post by **PiaMango** » Sun Aug 23, 2015 5:07 am

Thoughts of the Crane

The shattered training dummy laid in only remnants of its former self, fallen victim to the weight of the darksteel blade. Adjustments to the balance of the blade bestowed upon her called for such scenes of carnage. Though it imposed restriction to the alacrity she had grown accustomed after years wielding her father’s blade, its weight allowed her to carry the true extent of the power contained within her physique. She would still carry her father’s blade with her. There is a promise yet to be fulfilled by her before she would yet be ready to face him and return it to be handed to her half-brother once his own oaths are sworn. The pitch black of the blade rested in juxtaposition to radiant sheen of her armor on its holding as she too rested, dusting off the cover of her diary and setting a quill to it.

The prospect of death does strange things to man. For one it has me writing, something I have not done for some time now. In swearing my oaths I knew I had commitment myself to a path that would end abruptly, one that with each step not knowing which will be the last. Honour in that last step is no certainty. I have seen honorable men fallen in cruel manner, manner which is neglect from the tales of bards. I find myself awaking to moments frozen in red. This past month that prospect has felt more real. Whether it is seeing so many in distress, the rampant hunger and desperation, the many that have fallen, those whose soulless bodies then raised against us. It has animated that grim prospect. By some it is spoken death as being a reward. I know to myself many sorely missed comrades, friends and family await my arrival to the gates of the heavens. While honour will be met to my vows to arrive not to them not as a craven, I cannot suppress the thought there was much more to this world I have yet to see, yet to experience.

I talked with her again today. Gods how she makes my heart race. How her words seem to quell all sense of inanition, passing any dreary thoughts to a cerulean clear sky. There is much I left unsaid last tenday, much that I cannot speak. Though that sense of peril in it being my last chance did force some from my lips. The only way I can explain what it is I felt these many months is that her song seeped into my essence, a song that was thought to belong only to my ears. To the intrusive terrors that have plagued me these past months that song has been there to calm them, to remind me there is still life worth protecting, giving drive when hope was scarce to find. I held onto that song, hoping one day lyrics would be written, a peaceful day that was not to come. It has been difficult for me to accept she writes those words for another, and that our song is destined another path. She once said her voice was more suited for tragedies. Maybe mine is to end on such a note. I’m left with a smile however, that instead a song of friendship can be written instead. It may seem something small to her, but she has given me reason to make it back from these battles alive.

I pray I can pass on that spirit of hope to the banners.
There is much left to be done.

PiaMango · Unread post by **PiaMango** » Sat Sep 05, 2015 8:12 pm

The inner conflict

The predawn breeze brought the smells of sea from the shoreline, it pierced through her thick armor instilling a chill in her back. Her hair was pulled astray by it, left to rest unorderly over her shoulders. With each step up the cliffside the smell grew fainter, till it only showed with the gusts of wind that encouraged her up further. She passed the guard tower, and the faint traces of life that remained from the camp that once existed nearby. Her strides finally came to a stop her eyes scanning the moonlit village of Ulgoth's Beard. It would not be long till dawnrise, but in truth she did not truly know when she rose and when the dawn was to follow after. She began unstrapping the holdings of her armor. With the troubles in the north she would not travel without it, feeling trapped within it.

The bulky dame seated herself setting each plate into a neat pile beside her as she began work on her greaves. As she was stripped to her underpadding she leaned back on her hands bringing her square jawline up to face the starlit sky. For a few moments she felt free, a gentle smile managed to break her stern features as the stars turned in griffons soaring above her. She close her eyes savouring the moment, fearing they would be gone when she next opened them. For a few moments she was atop Mount Waterdeep. A boyish voice called, tempting to break the seal of her eyes. "Alright I hear you. But what if Nasher had his Neverwinter nine. And Paladinson had the Gray hands. How can Nasher win against Harshnag! Hes like twenty feet tall." The voice faded, the gentle smile fell submit to pain. She missed those innocent days arguing with him about pitting the great legends and heroes of their time against each other. Most of all she missed him, Davion. She wished she had fallen with him that day.

The man who encouraged her to find this where she is reminded her a lot of him, Eldarian. She could almost hear Davion's voice in his, maybe that is why the division formed between them. That after all these years she still cannot bear to face him. Eldarian's voice however raised more questions inside of her, to add to the hill of self doubt. His vague words left her searching for the meaning behind them, she did not know why but they gave her drive to do things now she would later regret. She came here by his direction to find answers to some of those many questions. And after what transpired last night, she was in sore need of some clarity.

A breeze of wind reminded her of the cliff she sat upon, her eyes finally opening to see a warmth slowly rising on the horizon. She searched for the small book and coal she had brought with her in anticipation of the dawn's light. Setting it aside for the moment she lay back, lowering the guard to her emotions. It was not long till they showed through. Forceful in their nature anger and frustrations were the first to show, she felt the overwhelming urge to hurt herself. Her fist clenched ready to beat her chest but it lay restrained, gritting her teeth until it gave way to the resentment behind it. Flashes in memories of his body laid lifeless beside his horse were stark, shifting to her most vulnerable moments where her guard was opened only to feel the pain which caused the gate to rise higher. As her step-father came to view with the ever look of high expectation she finally broke to tears. There she remained, a helpless curled bulk of a woman till dawn was finally in full light.

In her groggy state she reached for the book needing to wipe her bloodshot eyes dry to be able to focus on it. She brought the charcoal to the paper.

"I feel I am losing control. Control over myself, of what happens around me, of everything. I don't know what happened last night, but whatever it was it was a mistake. Everything I seem to do is resulting that way. One mistake after another. I cannot even raise a squire without feeling I have lost her, failed her in some regard to raise her to her true potential. She's one of the few things I have left, despite us growing so distant. It is a bitter thought that her cooking is one of the sole sources that keeps me looking forward.

I have known there are joys to this world, wonderful things worth fighting for, worth protecting. It is slipping away for me. As difficult as is it for me to let go of her I find my sense of what I stand for tearing from my grasp. A struggle to hold on to hope. I try to keep face, remain to my duty with the direness of what lays north. I do not know how long it will last.

Maybe he was right about me losing sight in the skies. Maybe I am lost in daydreaming oblivious to what is grounded around me. His words leave me lost to what it is I am missing. His held secret. Surely I cannot be misinterpreting it. There are too many thoughts, too many questions, pains and longings distracting me from my duty.

I long to be free of it all."

As the sun neared its peak she pulled herself from the cliff after adorning her armor. She did not find the tranquility she searched for but it seems to give her a renewed drive, if only to be temporary. As she neared in her return to the Gate she spurred finding it in a state of alert. Colour drained from her features as rushed through the streets of the city passing the carnage left from battles with undeath, the emerging people from the streets showing signs that it was over. A coil twisted in her chest into her throat almost choking her as she came upon the crowd, the Dukes publicly thanking the battleworn adventurers for their aid.

With each moment the coil twisted tighter freezing her stature, moisture evaporated from her lips. Her fist clenched feeling the familiar swell of self resentment rise within her. She had let her emotions get in way of her duty again. She should have been here to fight. A flicker of gold from a cloak as it turned broke her stature as she strode after it. She caught him before he was able to enter the elfsong tavern, her voice held harshness that she herself did not expect. It was met by warmth, as always, despite his worn state. She could not accept his offer to join him for a drink. How could she celebrate a battle she arrived late to. As much as she wanted to speak to him she could not follow him into the tavern. The thoughts of failing Davion entered her mind. She feared that he would resent her for not being with his side in battle. She feared that the tavern would cause a repeat from the night prior.

The overwhelming sense of needing to do something drove her away from the tavern to the east gate. She did not know what, but she needed to do something. Her squire managed to stop her, and instill some calmness into her. She couldn't get it out of her head that she failed once more, letting her emotions get in the way of duty. Words of warning from her step-father entered her mind, their meaning shifted to one of escape.

Be careful you do not seek death in battle, or you will surely find it.

Through the eyes of Sveta Asperan

Through the eyes of Sveta Asperan

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