Aelcar's Diary

[Aelcar]

- Entry Thirty: Reckoning


Thus ends my holy quest. The one started with High Priest Dargan of Tyr and his vision of my destiny unfolding on the Sword Coast. With my travel from the Order's Stronghold in Waterdeep and my experiences here. A tale of friendships forged, enemies vanquished and an elusive Demonologist to hunt down. A tale of my blessings and curses, of love and hate, of hope and despair. A tale of how I lived my last three intense years. A tale of how I died, alone, trapped in a dark, dying plane and surrounded by demons and corruption, at the hand of the fallen Malagard, once upon a time among the brightest servants of Tyr and now among his darkest enemies. My grandfather.



I was meditating when Dancer finally wrestled control out of my grasp, and overcame me with its power. When I regained consciousness, I found myself in a dark, misty graveyard, a plane not unlike the one in which I took my brother Gabriel's life a few days ago. Eerie whispers all around me and malevolent, blood-red eyes greeted my first steps as a fallen angel charged me before I even had time to pray for Tyr's assistance. He was a formidable enemy, but my armor and my resolve protected me long enough to finally gain an opening and drive Dancer through his chest.

It was only the first of a serie of horrors I had to overcome in order to meet my destiny: a succubus murmuring seductively in my ear as her undead minions assaulted me, craving for my flesh and lifeblood...an immense Balor and its enormous firesword...riddles and spells to test my faith and willpower...The details are lost in a haze, no doubt a blissful side effect of death itself, one last merciful act before oblivion.

Malagard confronted me at the heart of his Death Sanctum. He did so with the strength of his full Celestial heritage, as well as his acquired demi-godlike abilities. He eventually committed all his might, and despite the magical defenses I had in place, despite Dancer, despite the divine blessings granted me by the Even Handed's favor... it took all I had within me to just avoid being swept away like a broken log by his river of sheer raging power.

His strength, speed and technique were beyond anything a mere mortal like me could ever match. He toyed with me at first, wielding his colossal claymore like if it were a feather, easily dodging and deflecting my attacks and making my arms go numb as I barely parried his ripostes. After minutes that seemed like hours, when he was sure my energies and hopes of success were beginning to fade, he finally showed what he was really capable of. His attacks cleaved my shield into pieces and cracked my armor under it, breaking my arm and dislocating my shoulder in the process. His spells ripped through my wards, and only my divine shield and healing abilities kept me conscious, and in some sort of fighting shape...

I prayed. "Where is your god now, Alecar?". I defended myself as best as I could, and I kept praying. "Do you like the taste of failure, Aelcar?". I staggered, my armor and helm breached, my shield shattered, holding Dancer two-handedly and desperately deflecting one mortal blow after another "Thank you for bringing me the souls, grandson...now, you can die". His last flurry penetrated my unsteady defenses, and I fell. I could feel life slipping away from me, my pupils enlarging in that glassy, fixed stare I have seen on so many friends, and so many enemies. He kneeled beside me. He wanted to watch me in the eyes as I died, as I grasped the magnitude of my failure. "And now, you gave me what I needed...You failed, Aelcar. And your god failed you, just as he once failed me. The difference is: I never needed him to begin with...". "You became overconfident, grandfather. It will be your downfall, one of these days..." He was still smiling triumphantly as I embedded Dancer in his guts to the hilt. A not very accurate strike, to be sure, but sufficient for the vampiric blade to do its job.

The sword shattered as Malagard died. The souls, now free, finally passed on. I could swear I glimpsed my mother and father among them, their approving smiles, the pride in their eyes. I hardly remember them, yet somehow, I KNEW deep inside who they were. I said the last goodbye to Gabriel as Myrkul claimed him, and he began to pay the price for what he did. An eternal one.
And then, I exhaled a last breath, and my life ended on the barren soil of that forsaken place.

"Well done, Aelcar Lightbringer, last of your bloodline". As I opened my eyes, I saw the Angel smiling to me benevolently. "Tyr is very pleased with you. You have done all that was expected of you, and more." I moved my lips, but no sound came out. He understood anyway. "You were dead, yes. But not anymore. Your faith never abandoned you, not even when life itself did."
"THis is a day of victory, Aelcar." he continued. "A day in which valor and justice triumphed. This day, Death shall have no hold on the righteous". My holy mission was over, and against all odds, and death itself, I was spared by Tyr's Merciful Hand.

[Aelcar]

Entry Thirty-one: Time



It had already happened more than a week before the time I finally knew. The information did not come from the Order of the Radiant Heart, nor the Silver Rose. Their members were no doubt extremely busy trying to handle an almost impossible negotiation, not to mention the sentimental impact of this tragedy. As I asked confirmation to my trusted friend, Lady Marigold, all was already said and done, decisions made. Blood waiting to be spilled.

I never had a chance to meet Priestess Brenda Duvale of Ilmater, but my friends and acquaintances tell me she was a true servant of the Broken God, selfless to the point of self-sacrifice in the true spirit of His dogma.
High Priest Ameris Santraeger of Ilmater was a great man by all accounts, and I deeply regret the day I had a chance to meet him, and instead I merely left a message at the Gate's Temple to avoid interrupting while he was performing one of the most sacred, vital tasks for a Cleric of the Triad: guiding a lost soul back to the light.
My first and only encounter with Lady Cecilia Lafayette of Tyr took place while she was fighting the creature known as "Trickster". Despite her distress and the nefarious powers she had been exposed to, her resolution and will to fight never wavered. I remember when I escorted her back to her Order's stronghold, and helped her to her rooms because she was too weak to even climb the stairs. And yet, her last words before I left were reassuring, encouraging. Not the words of a survivor recovering from the horrors faced... the words of a warrior preparing for the next battle.

They represented light, hope, courage, faith. I am told they were captured, imprisoned and killed by agents of the Black Hand, because that's how Banites operate: they strive to snuff light, crush hope, break courage, and twist faith in a mockery of justice they call "order". Tyrants ruling through oppression and despair. Men and women with tragic stories to begin with, often oppressed before becoming the oppressors, like many agents of evil.
Good people dead in an attempt to heal Triel from its dark, supernatural wounds. People that followed their hearts, joined a cause they believed in, and bled for it. I did not know much of them, sadly, but I can certainly relate. Every man or woman riding along my path knows this is a likely end to our lives. I should rejoiced they finally reached the warm, loving embrace of the Triad after a long, hard struggle. And yet, the sadness remains.

I wonder if Triel is worth this kind of sacrifices. I have visited the place, coming back from my holy errand. I have seen the devastation, tried to give a deserved rest to the Undead to no avail, felt the wrongness of it. I am spiritually close to all those endeavoring to cleanse this land, and I can understand their feelings...but is it the right thing to do?
Triel is cursed by the gods themselves. I am sure of it now. Are we too resolute to let it go, or too blind to see we are just mortals, and this is the gods' doing? Are we unwilling to give in and let evil have this patch of land, or just too proud to admit this is beyond our powers? There are no more innocents to save, no town to protect, no animals...the water is poisoned, the only fruit coming from the land are the walking corpses of dead victims, and wrestling the control of the area from the Black Network would probably take an army and involve the construction of a fortified camp, possibly a whole Keep.
Is this worth the lives of good men and women who could do so much for those in need elsewhere?

Time. I used to consider it my greatest enemy. There are too many worthy causes, and too few of us to offer our help in all of them. The irony is, Time also is the fairest of judges, second only to the Even Handed himself. In time, I am sure, wisdom will prevail.

For now, all I can do is start my vigil and pray for these pure souls, as well as for their aggressors, in all likelihood no less victims than those they tortured and killed.

[Aelcar]

- Entry Thirty-Two: Plans




Even in these trying times, where uncertainty, instability and tragedy seem to be inexorable everyday occurrence, I can feel the guiding hand of the Maimed on my shoulder. Gentle, yet firm in directing me along my path, pursuing justice in his holy name. As I said and written many times, it is easy to forget a Paladin is first and foremost a servant of his god, and a seeker of truth: there is no justice without truth, and only absolute and incontrovertible truth can be the foundation of divine justice. But how can we, mere mortals, with limited strength of limb, endurance, lore and power of observation truly live up to such an almost unattainable, utopistic concept, an ideal? Sometimes, even witnessing events is insufficient to clear every doubt. How can we be certain we are agents of good, then?

Faith. I cannot rely on my own feeble powers, no...but the Even Handed shows us we cannot always use our eyes to see, our mouth to communicate, our strength of arm to win a just battle. We have limits, pride is our enemy. A dangerous, lifelong companion, a beast best left slumbering, kept at bay.

In times like these, where identifying the right course of action to undertake becomes an almost impossible task for a mortal, I found that closing my eyes, opening my heart and letting Tyr lead me in his infinite wisdom is much more effective than simply act according to my own limited views.
Once we stop looking at events with our narrow perspective and embrace faith, we are blessed with a warm, comforting light of hope even in the darkest, direst situation. A light we, ourselves, carry. It comes from within. At it can never be taken away from us unless we surrender it.

As I was protecting two adventurers from an unusually large group of bandits just north of the Gate, I had the pleasure to come across Lady Sehlanna, a mysterious and charming elven maiden. Aside from the gift of her beguiling company and a captivating conversation, she made me an even bigger one, if possible: she gave me the news Lady Cecilia and Father Ameris had been returned to life. I had no idea about the circumstances, and still do not...but my friend Jarresh and me visited them both, and it is indeed true. A miracle. Of course they are still recovering and shaken by the ordeal, but they are living, breathing and consigned to the cares of their loved ones once more. Hope through faith...

I mentioned Jarresh. We met a few days ago, but we have a natural affinity that is an excellent basis for a long-lasting friendship. At a first glance he might seem a walking contradiction: he is a man of feeling under the gruff demeanor and the steel of his full plate armor, and follows a knightly, honorable code with a passion with a marked distaste for ostentation...For instance, I have seen him smash a table into bits under his armored fist when he learned Lady Cecilia had been killed, and I barely managed to convince him not to attack Darkhold alone to avenge her (given his combat skills, I suspect the Zhentarim might have had a few problems stopping him after all...)...and grimace in disgust when Lady Lucy, an old acquaintance of his, mockingly called him "Lord". But I learned to judge characters better than that, to go deeper, and the truth is: he is an honorable, reliable man. A loyal friend, and a fierce defender of justice. Marigold and I could not ask for a better ally for her project.

Speaking of plans...I am reluctant to write this even in my own diary, but Marigold (and I trust her with my life) assures me the preparations are almost done: the funds are available (thanks to her, because I barely have anything but my horse and my wargear...), our base is being readied at the designed location, and the Dukes are willing to receive us and apparently well disposed towards her idea. I have sent a missive to the Order's Stronghold in Waterdeep, informing them where to find me in case they have new tasks for me, and what I will be doing in the time being...The Triad willing, we will be able to help a lot of people!

Hope through faith...a beacon of light in the dark. As High Priest Dargan of Tyr used to say: "Without the night, we would never see the stars, and remember the good in the world is worth fighting for".

[Aelcar]

Entry Thirty-Three: Masks



Few days ago, sundown. I was right outside the East Gate. I had just paid tithes to the Temple of Tyr (self-imposed, for reasons this diary knows well) and to my Order (thanks to High Priest Sulnar's help, as usual), and was making my way to the stables outside the city grounds when I began to hear strange sounds coming from the surrounding areas.
A female voice was singing an eerie children's song seemingly coming from all around me, as the shadows grew longer and the farmlands emptier in the dying dusk light. I tried to reassure the girl and convince her to come out of hiding, and in the end she consented, appearing out of nowhere like a suddenly solid, coalesced shadow. She was rather disappointed I did not react with concern, or alarm of sort. Despite the fact she maintains otherwise, I do not believe she has much experience with the likes of me, otherwise she would have known better...

Rai (she said this was her name, and I believed her) agreed to engage in conversation in a more comfortable fashion, so she sinuously moved towards the nearest bench by the campfire and sat gracefully, inviting me to do the same as she pointedly crossed her legs, a mischievous grin on her lips. When I did, she proceeded to illustrate me in no uncertain terms just how "high" her opinion of Paladins' mental attributes (or lack thereof...) are. I proceeded to explain her that in our line of work a sharp mind is regarded much more than a strong sword arm: strategy, tactics, command skills, philosophy, ability to solve delicate situations through diplomacy and analyze conversations to discern incongruities and outright lies are only a selection of the skills deemed indispensable to be ordained. "Then, there are no Paladins on the Sword Coast..." was her surprised reply, which reinforced my belief I indeed am the first one she meets, despite her convictions...

As we spoke, a gnome with a mandolin and Lady Lucy Heartfilia graced us with the pleasure of their company. A quite interesting debate ensued when Rai gave the gnome (who, sadly, refused to reveal his name) permission to sit down only if he promised not to play his instrument.
"I never play this instrument," he replied "it is just a conversation starter. As you can see, you started talking about it, and in doing so revealed much about yourself". I glanced towards her, and noticed she was rather impressed in spite of her cool, serene mask, a spark of interest flickering in her eyes.
The gnome proceeded to ask for "information worth his time". I replied that I found it hard to evaluate his time's worth without knowing anything about him, not even his name. "If you do not have enough judgement for it, I will give you a hint or two".
A clever test of logic. "Judgement must be based on objective facts, on truth. Judging of assumptions is the foundation of injustice. If we do judge and give you the information, we prove our lack of judgement. If, instead, we ask for clues we admit lack of judgement as per your wording, in spite of clearly showing discernment. As you can see, we reached quite an impasse."

The gnome's eyes glinted. He was clearly pleased. By now, Rai was distractedly eating an apple, while Lady Heartfilia's expression was unreadable."Everyone Judges on assumption. Judgement cannot be avoided." he was looking directly into my eyes now. I held his gaze: "Not quite. For me, Justice is sacred, and judgement is the mean to achieve it. Without flawlessly fair judgement there can be no justice. Without truth, there can be no fair judgement. Therefore, I am bound to seek truth first, and can judge only subsequently".

"Truth is easy to find..." Lady Lucy suddenly interjected "it is always there from the beginning, and meditation reveals it". I turned towards her, rather surprised: "While I agree truth is there to be found, I am sure you know better than deem it easy to discover, milady. People lie. I am fairly certain you had to deal with a fair share of liars, by now. Had seeking truth been an easy task, there would be no need for me to wear this armor, or carry these symbols".

Her blank, emotionless mask never slided as she weighed my words. Long moments passed, before the gnome remarked: "The armor you are wearing is only proof of the beatings you get to defend your strange beliefs". Finally, Lady Heartfilia's expression melted into a chuckle, while Rai's smile was more pensive. "Actually, master gnome, these trappings cannot protect me from the real threats I face. Physical harm is the least of my concerns, I assure you.."
The gnome nodded, an awareness I did not anticipate in his eyes, and that can only be attained with long studies and introspection: "Indeed, there are many kinds of armor..."
The smile on my lips came directly from my heart: "Exactly".

Lady Lucy, the witty gnome, the mysterious Rai...different actors representing much of our world on a very narrow stage...
What is the truth about them? What do they hide under their masks? Where does their heart lie?

[Aelcar]

- Entry Thirty-Four: Heart




We met at the established location. I have to credit Marigold's admirable choice: it's ideal. I can hardly believe this place has been overlooked for so long...Looking upon the abandoned building and empty surroundings, it is not ruins I see. I see potential. I see hope. A living, beating heart, the Trade Way its artery.

Surely, much of my optimism comes from the look in my friends' eyes. Marigold's brim with excitement every time she talks about the project, and how many people we are going to help, Tyr willing. Jarresh is also enthusiastic and committed, although he seems...troubled, lately. I can imagine his past, made of scars that never heal and blood stains that do not wash away, but somehow, this seems different. However, his dedication and morality are not in question: he is a man of one word, and I admire this rare quality. He has my trust...I just wish I could help.

As we were discussing infrastructural development, general workflow issues and defensive precautions (because they will be needed...no doubt about it...), we also exchanged views on our future associates. The elven blooded ranger from the north and his offer for training, the merchant from Amn that by means of her wealth and contacts could increase our scope well beyond the initial expectations we had, and the mysterious and powerful arcanist that shares a strong bond of friendship with Jarresh, and whose knowledge could be invaluable in times to come.

We just need a last word on a few minor details, and then it will be time to ask the Dukes for an audience, and petition for their approval and blessing. We have much to offer...it will be my job to make sure they do not overlook what we could bring to the table. May the Even Handed give me the eloquence needed to be up to the task. I have no intention to let my friends down...
As a side note, I still need to send a missive to the Order's Stronghold in Waterdeep to brief them in regard of my latest endeavors, and my plans to support this initiative...I wonder what High Priest Dargan will say...

I wish my beloved Eliania, my dear Anu twins and Aiden Desratrix were here, that I could talk to them once again. I have only seen one of the Anu twice in the last two years, and none of the others. I miss them all so much...But I digress.

After our analysis and planning, we still found the time for action, fortunately: in my position, I can hardly justify idleness, even if there are good reasons for it.
Ideally, I should always find the time to help the local honorable Orders of the Radiant Heart and the Silver Rose on behalf of mine (after all, I am the only Knight of the Merciful Sword this south of our fortress, to my knowledge) in the holy mission to protect and cleanse the land of its threats and horrors.

Our expedition to the Vault of the Dead was a great success: my companions and lady Ithilwen (which was already there) fought with valor, and I hope we provided relief to some of the poor souls trapped in that foul, dark prison. When we finally emerged, we were tired, but relieved to have proven equal to the task.

Murmuring a fervent prayer to the Maimed, I glanced towards my allies: Lady Ithilwen was an impenetrable, cold and serene mask so devoid of emotions she could have been forest walking instead of facing the dark horrors of the Vault; Marigold lowered her hood, a waterfall of golden hair falling on her shoulders as she inhaled deeply, smiling satisfied towards the wan sunlight, a portrait of life. And Jarresh...despite
the impressive display of skills he gave inside, he looked distant, dissatisfied somehow. Even shaken. If I had to guess, I'd say more troubled by the fact he had experienced dread, that by the feeling of fear itself. He did not raise the issue, and so I did not insist, but despite what he thinks, I believe his merits are all the greater for that, not the contrary.

As a Paladin, I cannot experience fear, and so I cannot claim I overcome it to perform my duties: it is just a part of me that has been taken away for the greater good.
Conversely, to see Jarresh himself, Marigold and Ithilwen keep fighting in spite of fear, battling and overcoming their own instincts while struggling with their nightmarish opponents at the same time, made me feel a surge of admiration for them that can hardly be described with words.

I am honored we consider each other friends and allies, and they view me as their equal.

[Aelcar]

- Entry Thirty-Five: Greenest

Tired, pained, but happy with what we have done. It is with mixed feelings that I write this entry. We came to Greenest at Lady Castillo's suggestion, for it was she who kindly and knowingly made us aware of the desperate situation of the halflings: the Drow raid months ago left them with the vast majority of their able men slaughtered, their village razed and cursed, their fields withered.

When we arrived at the encampment, at a relatively safe distance from the town ruins and its horrors, we found broken, starving families with a scanty defensive perimeter garrisoned by a skeleton crew of desperate hins, all hope drained from their empty stares and gaunt bodies. Two hundred survivors just waiting to die.

I cannot describe the sorrow I felt in hearing what they had to endure...the courageous sacrifice of their militia, buying time for their escape as the Drow scourge cut through their defenses with steel and dark magic...the hardship of the exodus, with little food or shelter...the loss of their loved ones, who now walked the charred remains of their ancestral home as rotting corpses, wanting nothing more than to kill those who they once loved, and protected.

I will be never be able to thank my friends and allies (both old and new ones) enough, for what they have done this day: my dear Anu, who shielded me from the Balor Lord's attacks as we rushed to deal with the Drow Witch and her half demonic spawn, and who gifted the halfling the seeds she carried with her, symbol of their new beginning; Grimm, rock-hard and immovable like a mountain, taking point in every fight, against every enemy, be it living, undead or infernal, without a moment of hesitation; Brother Ameris, who tended the wounds of these poor victims' bodies, and those, deeper and deadlier, of their souls; the mysterious Copper Fox, who joined our endeavor because it was a just one, risking his life without asking for rewards; Marigold and her guardian angel Simon, who vanquished hordes of undead and cleansed the curse upon the village; and Lady Cheryl, who competently and keenly guided us to this place, and this great victory.

Many have sacrificed their lives, and those who survived lost their families and were robbed of their past. But we gave them their present back, and a hope for the future. The nefarious Drow cabalist and her fiendish spawn might have narrowly escaped their righteous punishment for today (unless their extensive wounds will prove fatal)...but as Dharva and her kin retake their homes, bury their dead, and look forward to life once more, I cannot help to feel like Justice was done, thank the Even Handed.

May his blind, all-seeing eyes stare benevolently over them, and his comforting hand guide them in their path.