It feels nice to break in a new journal, though the old one still holds a place in my heart. This new one smells of freshly cured basilisk leather and academic progress, so I have no legitimate complaints on the matter. Anyways, I finally managed to gain access to the Stage, after quite a bit of pestering and Dubh's help. The path there was certainly treacherous, more so than the southern badlands, but we managed, somehow. No broken bones, at least. Upon arrival, we found confirmation of the old rumor. Personally, I am not very religious, though Medraut is, but this is indisputable proof. The Old Gods did exist, and here at the site of their final battle lies a throne made from their remains for Zera to sit upon when he returns and remakes Alstalsia as a worldly paradise for all to see. That's what we were taught, and that's what I have now seen for my own eyes.
Schola wants a full report on the BDP phenomena in non-Alstalsian soil. Thanks to the Southern riots, the Mage Guild webway has been shut down, so I guess we're going to be making the journey by ship. I don't feel the need to bring much with me aside from the essentials. And my grandfather's gun, of course. Monsters count as large game, after all. Anyways, this will likely take quite some time, so I'm going to request a grant to cover any living expenses. With any luck, we won't be here for long. I've already said goodbye to my parents, and there wasn't really much to do beyond that.
It's been a long time since I wrote in this. I had almost forgotten that it exists, in fact. A lot of things have happened over the years since I came here. Friends came. Friends left. Friends died. I can't go home now, but I can at least try my best here. While there's still something left to save. All the research points to it. All the scholars I've hired, all the work I've put in. They all say the same thing. The Graves are indestructible, and therefore its ultimatum is inevitable. I've tried for years and years. Then Meddie left, too. I have a fairly sizeable estate here. In fact, it keeps growing larger and larger somehow. I just wish I had people to fill it. All the people here, living in poverty or resorting to banditry. I've opened my doors, I suppose. For free room and board, and quality meals, and an ear to listen. It's all I can do, after all.
It's galvanizing, in a way. The possibility that it could all end tomorrow. The thought that at any moment, all life outside of my home could end. Then again, Alstalsia isn't my home any more, is it? I've made my application to join the Guard. It may not matter in the end, but ultimately, I'll have at least made a difference, however small. That's what matters. Inaction and indifference, it makes me sick. If I can make things better for anyone, then I've made a difference. The world ending can't erase the past.
It's been a while, again. I keep forgetting this exists. Life in the Guard has been fair, I suppose. Still, there's this troubling issue with Law's End. The entirety of it, in fact. Am I to accept that the rapists and murderers and slavers that fled the Empire are to simply live free in a town that supports their lifestyle? I refuse to accept it.
I killed a man today. Well, I suppose it wasn't a man. A vampire. It wasn't misted. It's dead. Crumbled to toxic bits. The void shells appear to be working properly. Even though it was a vampire, it still displeases me. Vampires will survive after the end. The less of them to prey on the survivors in Alstalsia, the better. I do what I can, because I must. I still don't like it.
I have made a few friends among the Guard, I believe. It is hard to tell, with how stoic many of them are. Then again, I haven't been sharing much, either. Now that I'm tenured and have a few black marks against my name for my indescretions, I suppose I should write a will. After all, it's not like I'm going to live forever. That is the domain of leeches and the mad. The problem is, who? Medraut's gone. Presumed dead. Roje, perhaps? I doubt he would want any of my possessions, but I'll keep it in mind. On another note, I've seen that people fear the Guard. That we're somehow less than people, in a way. More like things to be feared. Perhaps if I find an admirable persona to put on in public, we'll be seen as more personable in general?
Well, I am seen as an incompetent, loudmouthed, brash baffoon with scarcely any grasp of any intellectual pursuit. I kind of like it, to be honest. It will likely inspire more Guards to be better than me, while making us seem less... imposing to the common folk? I feel I put on a wonderful show, sometimes. Especially with Roje's influence. It's a bit intoxicating to my senses, to be around him. Sometimes physically painful. But it's worth it, I suppose. He's a good person and a friend. Perhaps, my best friend. And after all, most people here sear my senses to some degree or another. None of these folk are any good at covering up their aura!
It's been a long time, yet again. It feels fitting to dust it off, I suppose. Medraut returned. I had long since feared that she died. Her Void Poisoning is getting worse, however. Luckily, I know a doctor or two. I really hope she'll let this obsession go, however. There are no winning scenarios, and if there were, I'd latch on like there was no tomorrow. Sadly, there aren't and tomorrow really might never come. Still, it's nice to have another person consciously living here. I know a homeless thief who comes around and takes a few things on occasion, and rests on a warm bed, but that is no substitute to true liveliness. I'm rambling, I suppose. Suffice to say, it's good to have her back.
Well, Roje was kidnapped. We've got a good idea as to where he might be. Bloeden's den, Law's End. Hey, that rhymed, didn't it? Now, if Roje gets to show me around his place and tell me his life story, then I mean, I'm obligated to save the guy. If only so he can suffer through my long and melodramatic past, as well. We're suiting up to go, but truthfully, I do not know how combat will go with the Guards I'm heading out with. One's a medic and one's half-blind. Why'd it have to be you, Roje? We're supposed to be the partners here. Anyways, I've almost filled this journal to the brim. I'm going to hide it. Meddie, I bet you'll be the one finding it. I mean, if I don't come back. The Will's in order. I'm leaving it to you. And if somehow you kick it, too. I'm leaving it all to Roje. I mean, if he hasn't died. If both of you are dead, I give it all to charity. With Love, Virgil Alighier.