Valiant's Journal

[Hitman Hard]

I have this tome everyone is looking for but I am still full of bitterness, hate, and void... I almost want to find an outcome that would dredge up rage and disappointment in all parties involved; Dead Crows, Zhentarim, and Harper Agents (if the Zhentarim even care about it that is).

I don't see any window of opportunity to write this "propaganda" the Harpers feel is my game... so I suppose I'll just write the bloody news. I made capital progress earlier in the day with the Kheldrivver apparition fiasco, I believe. I see an opening to get more arcane-oriented people writing for me. Editorials and other experimental summing-ups of everything magical. I am so not in a merciful frame of mind....

[Hitman Hard]

Indeed, my humanitarian efforts as my alternative persona; Dave Counterpunch whom brought widespread awareness about the shadow on Beregost... the unfairly-imposed taxes that only benefited wealthy noble houses/horse businesses... my effort to expose an incompetent Sheriff in Beregost and bring it to people's attention about the Dead Crows heinous activities... these are all classified as propaganda. Did you know not once has a Dead Crow approached me requesting I write propaganda? This is enough to just choke on the fury.The hate is on an epidemic level with these Harper Agents.. these self-proclaimed do-gooders who hide behind their pretentiousness and pretenses of righteous behavior.

It's enough to make you sick but I can see through their disguises.. I can detect the miniaturized raw components they're made of... and it's downright ugly. Everything about them is obscene and foul.

I need to stop writing now... hand's shaking. VENGEANCE on them, may blood-riders come in boundless number to swallow them all and spit them back out in a blur of agony into some black mass of unresearched negative energy with no way back... If there is a one way portal back to the prime material I will do everything in my power to destroy it.

[Hitman Hard]

I just got two more reporters tonight. Rather ecstatic. I'm sure the temple clones that idolize Ameris (what a deceptive idea to hide behind a concept of mercy and modesty while getting everyone to follow your every whim and use it as a weapon) incessantly are just fuming. It gives me sustenance and the will to carry on.

[Hitman Hard]

Spoke to a man for a few hours by the name of Justin Wilcox. I see he has creative aptitudes in him that could empower verisimilitude on the journalistic war path... one's I could possibly harness for satire but he did elicit his want to focus his writing on his wanton exploits in drinking and more sensual wayward leanings over romantic predicaments or fighting for social justice. I told him this was perfectly fine long as he wrote about it in a poetic and artful way. I am going out of my way to ensure each person involved in the building of this newspaper feels they have freedom to do their part. I also believe I may have coerced him into taking the job but nothing is certain. If he does, he does. I can't help but sense I am at a turning point once again... to not be anyone's dog. He said I play a dangerous game, to oppose other's.

But perhaps I do want to change the realm for a better even if my own life has been one of chaos, dissoluteness, and sordid baseless murder among other things. I still burn with locomotion at the knowledge that the self-proclaimed heroes of the world like Ameris Santraegar fight tirelessly to protect despicable paladin impostors like Arkaine Half-Orken. I actually have fiery fragments of high-mindedness scrabbling through my veins... to stand up straight and sharp... and to try my hardest to fight back against the razored winds of these liars. These hypocrites installed to positions of power they do not deserve. I do it with a strange almost otherworldly sense of... -righteousness-.

(No, Valiant is not changing alignments. Evil characters are not one dimensional, you know.)

[Hitman Hard]

Valiant lets out a pleased, beastly growl in the darkness of night... his expression infusing with more life. He gazes into the shadowy forest like he sensed through supernatural ability a cataclysmic explosion going off leagues away. His vampirous energies tingle, and he nods his head knowingly before gaining restful, pleasant sleep.

[Hitman Hard]

Valiant is sitting at a table the next day (in some unknown location), watching the blue sky and birds (seagulls) lazily fly by. He brings a plum (looks pretty appetizing) to his mouth, and in his famished hunger he stuffs it down his mouth. He suddenly begins to choke on it... making a desperate noise: "urk gahh nrghh" before beating down on his wind-pipe and most of the plum being alleviated from his throat upon the third thump.

He sighs in contentment afterwards, and leans back in the beautifully carved chair. Licking his lips and taking a long slurp from his wine glass. His face quite gaunt. Examining everything that happens in the day with a great interest, a positively fun thrill to his eyes.

[Hitman Hard]

I question whether Arkaine would of decisted from his randomized murders he was gluttonously acting upon, if I hadn't intervened to newshound him. If the Doombringers hadn't fought back against this bully and told him enough is enough. To make him feel ashamed for his sins. Would he have atoned? It is funny how even though I have just received my first two articles...I still get the strong sense that Ameris and his cult will continue to hound my own steps. If only I could express to them I am just creating a newspaper. To begone from me. That there is far worse evils in the realm, and to let go of this misdirected pride.

[Hitman Hard]

He found a strange looking building... there was so much lustrous expositions of art within and it was a nice place to write; set free his thoughts... and soothe the flow of his energy. Feel the spike in righteousness followed by the stark juxtaposition of nihility coursing inside his aura.

Acclimating himself to the torrent of such different sheaths of perspective. Mastering the tool of disguise as he had before when he had deceived many.The fibres ebbed and refocused teasingly through his mental domain as he mystically pursued them on a wave length he had not scrabbled to before.

In his off-beat, manic mind he could see himself touching his hand to the streams of power that flowed throughout his body. His actively winding aura leading him, blocking off the cabinets he no longer needed as he replaced his accent and yet not forgetting his old self one bit.

He saw the graphs of his character keenly... He was malevolent when he felt indignation. It sparked his ambition as much as his romantic pursuits (but the impacts in his experiences had drove him from seeking the comfort of love).

Now, he was just seeking relaxation...the great fury of frivolities... anything -light-.. finding out about other people excited him more than relaying his own personality. He merely identified his own to switch roles.

He seriously believed the premise a few folks were following his steps.... their dark outlines were sighted at the plaza... the bazaar... the three different bars... the tournament grounds...

No... You are being delusional...

No... You are totally right. You think you could possibly find somewhere to hide from this?

So when he heard the man instruct him in a casual tone, “Just take a tour around and appear immersed in business.”

He said cheerfully, "I don't even have to use a sword? Here's to convictions of peace realm wide..."

The atmosphere here was highly profligating and gratefully did not amplify the black void of his mind but engorged his creativity. He could start a new life faraway from the Sword Coast (which would influence him to shut the door on the neurotic assumptions that had proven detrimental in the past).

Valiant found he could live off the food and dainty wine here easily without putting much work into it and observing the museums was enough to be classified as busy.. coincided by the relatively amusing comments passed his way of being a “strange male”.

Valiant continued to rehearse early in the morning... getting into the physicality of the various disguises to emulate in case any souls with vengeance in their hearts had stalked him to this lovely sanctuary. He also noticed there were many drugs to use here... and that was nice too (as he had only found alcohol as a refreshing escape, historically).

Gosh... there really is no reason to go back. He witnessed a woman testing out a war-mace.. symbol of Helm on her neck... had just purchased nearby and it prised a glare on him... unexpectedly

The sound of a curse rolling off his lips like fire... and he began to look older, again.

Is she frecking with me?

Valiant turned his head a tick, his mind tumbling towards aggression and the derisive edge he'd known as an old friend. Valiant couldn't deny the hate slithering across his skin, provoking his muscles and testing his mettle within. Closing in on him in evilly sharp persuasion… to accept it.

But he shrugs it off and smiles at the woman.

"Hey careful... there are statues in here."