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My progress [08 Feb 2005|12:06am]
[ mood | restless ]

Today I started to look through the Mystic historical archives.

The Mystics, in my experience, are not a people given to scholarship. They have their sages and their wise men, but few creatures in this culture are interested in serious research, or for the most part, preserving history and lore for the ages. Thus, while a great many historical documents have been collected in the library of this castle over the years, they're not in any discernable order. I would bet a significant sum of money that before I first came to live here they hadn't even been touched for decades except to add to the pile.

I believe there's a saying (appropriately ironic, coming from me) about not knowing history and being doomed to repeat it.

Anyway, I'd been dreading coming to the point where I had no choice but to look through these for possible clues, but at this point, anything is better than sitting here another day and brooding. Life is better for all people concerned when I am not allowed to dwell on things too long.

I haven't found anything of use yet, of course. I'm not sure if I even expect to. But I can't just do nothing.

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[05 Feb 2005|01:24am]
[ mood | morose ]

During the war, this castle was never quiet.

Hm. During the war. I... don't usually like to think about it much.

But this place was alive then. Or perhaps undead would be the more proper term, but at any rate, it was always full of some kind of noise. Back then I'd've had to retreat up to the highest tower parapets to get away from the hustle and bustle of troops marching around, orders being shouted, and noise of the mess hall. For those of our soldiers who still required earthly sustenance, at least.

The skeletons didn't talk much, but their bones always clattered against each other as they walked. It was at least as distracting as anything any of the living soldiers ever did.

They all mingled together like they hadn't a care in the world, as if it was perfectly normal for flesh-and-blood creatures to fight alongside the enslaved undead. They were always more ignored than anything, the skeletons. I noticed the living soldiers tended to treat them like objects. But then, few of them had magical prowess or magical senses anywhere close to mine. I wouldn't be surprised if they were simply incapable of sensing the pure malevolence that held together the core of each Decedent.

If I had been thinking clearly in those days, I never would have summoned so many. All of them had been humans once, and all held a great grudge against me. If I had ever lost my grip on the spells keeping them in thrall, the consequences could have been... unpleasant.

But I wasn't... I don't believe it even occurred to me at the time that I could lose control. I was still young enough to be drunk on my own power and at any rate, I had more weighty concerns on my mind than whether four or five thousand corpses of my deceased foes would turn on me at any moment.

Hah. Funny how one's priorities change.

I have no idea what happened to them all, after we were swallowed up in that Gate. After I, apparently, singlehandedly lost us the war by disappearing. By the time I returned to the castle, the whole Decedent army had seemingly disappeared as well. Perhaps the time travel nullified the effects of the spells I had cast and their souls were finally able to head to their rest.

The time-space continuum is odd like that.

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good morning, as the case may be [03 Feb 2005|01:29am]
[ mood | blank ]

Still awake. I was never one to let the witching hour pass me by.

Spent a long time reading this evening, was accosted by a certain purple fuzzball, and then ventured out onto the balcony closest to the ocean to watch the moon for a while.

I've done little for the past few days, since I returned here. It's been restful, almost pleasant even, after spending so many months in constant travel. Even I get tired eventually, shocking as that might sound to some people who are apparently convinced I never sleep (not that I would want to disabuse them of that notion).

But if I am completely truthful with myself... Well, I wouldn't be dawdling around and wasting my time if there were some better way to spend it. I just don't know if there is anymore. It's been a year. I've gone over all the same leads, or rather the lack thereof, a thousand times.

I don't know... I don't know if there's really any point in searching anymore.

I still believe she's alive. No, I know she's alive. Until the day I hear the Black Wind blowing for her I will never accept otherwise. But wherever she is now, I am beginning to believe she's far beyond my reach.

What this means for me, I don't know. I hardly know what to do with myself anymore.

I suppose if I was terribly bored I could stage a coup on the Mystics again, lure a second army to my side, and make war. I'm sure somewhere in whatever little rat holes they're hiding in, those three would be entertained. Maybe they'd return and fight me for the title of leader, who knows. Maybe I would take over Guardia Castle. Assassinate the King. Now that I've been there as an actual guest, I know all the best ways to slip in and out without being noticed.

Most of these ideas would've brought a chuckle to Ozzie's bloated lips and perhaps a grin to my own, back when. The idea of it all just wearies me now. I am even moderately glad our conquest attempts were cut short, because when I first agreed to help them fight their war as if I had a choice I certainly hadn't the faintest idea what a large, messy pile of shit I was stepping into.

If I could just have a battlefield, just one, without generals or bureaucrats or strings, or little children crying for their parents, or women crying for their husbands, or any of it--just pare it down to the dance of blade and magic, shouting and sword crashes and blood flying all around, a beautiful bit of chaos to conquer under my will... Perhaps that would be something like happiness.

If we were to meet again, I think she would find me a monster.

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Musings. [02 Feb 2005|05:36pm]
[ mood | contemplative ]

So, I decided to start keeping a journal.

When I figure out what exactly possessed me to do this, I'll let you know. And perhaps seek out an exorcist while I'm at it.

Maybe it's the quiet. I must admit I had begun to grow used to the chatter of those annoying kids while I was stuck with them... it works in much the same way as dosing oneself with poison to build up a tolerance, though I have a feeling the poison might have been more pleasant.

But at any rate, it's often seemed uncomfortably quiet since I parted ways with them. Nevermind the strategic advantages of quiet; now that I've gotten used to the other way around, I suppose it will take some time to get reaccustomed to my normal living habits again. In the meantime, if I want for 'conversation' or close enough, I suppose I can just jot my thoughts in here.

It makes me feel less stupid than talking to Alfador, at any rate


At present I'm sitting in the library of the old castle. Unfortunately, I don't think this place has a great deal of time left... there's only so much one can do to prop up a building with magic alone, and I don't know the first thing about architectural repair, so I suspect it won't be too many more years before I need to start evacuating my things and find a safer hiding place for them.

I can't say I will be unhappy to leave the castle. I stay here more out of habit than anything, really.

As little as I'm really ever here, it's funny to think so, but I suppose this is still, these days, the place I would come closest to calling 'home'.

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