A Earthen Brown Leather Tome with Dwarven Runes and an Open-Palm Hand

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 20th, IY 7789

Ulfgrim brought me flowers again today. It is a small thing, but it fills some hollow space in me, if only for a moment. He said he does it because he knows that it makes me smile. I wonder what brings him joy? He has seen so much suffering, buried too many to count. How does one endure such weight without breaking?

Perhaps we do not. Perhaps we only become something else, shaped by what we carry. I fear what I am becoming, and I fear what he might become too.

"One can only shoulder so much, before they are changed by it." - Ulfgrim Grimgarson.

---

Haknar and I spoke of the Rathgan formation. The charter is in order, but bureaucracy moves slowly, as it always does. I must meet with Gold Legate, Vellyn, to finalize the process. Then to speak with the White Legate, Alexandria. Back and forth we go, dancing on a thin line to make things move. Politics frustrates me. So many words, so many steps just to reach the inevitable.

Yet, I know it is necessary. The Rathgan must be recognized, given structure, and given purpose beyond the battlefield. If I must wade through the mire of governance to see it done, so be it. It is not war, but it is still a battle, one that must be won.

---

The Spleen Eaters.

And the war drags on. The Spleen Eaters held firm in their Fortress. Ulfgrim, reckless, relentless Ulfgrim, charged as he always does. [A hesitation.] He may be reckless and relentless, but he is also brave, stalwart, and courageous. He does not fear death, for he tells me that there are many on the other side who are eager to greet him again. But, what about me? Whatever.

As he always does, he fell. Not dead, not yet, but wounded enough to be forced to rest. This is where I failed. To be fast enough to mend his wounds. To react to the Voidcallers voids. So, I will sit by his side, mend what I can, and watch over him until he is well. A task that should bring me peace, but does not. I have seen too many slip away, even as I held them. Not from their physical wounds, but from the wounds inflicted upon the mind. The psyche. I must find a way to bring him joy, and fast.

And so I lead in his stead for now, moving forward because there is no other choice.

But how long before there is nothing left of us? Before all we are is duty and loss? I wonder if he thinks the same. I wonder if he sees what I see.

Where is our joy, our happiness? Our win? I remain vigilant. Tired, exhausted, but in the morning, I will bounce back. For I must keep moving forward.

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- Lost amidst the void.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 22nd, IY 7789

Ulfgrim is up and about again. It didn't take long for him to be better, thankfully. I guess my tactics for healing him were potent methods. Though the blessings of Izzakhar accelerated his healing, he now has two new scars to add to his already massive collection. More stories etched into flesh.

After he did a bit of board work, together, with a few others; Remi, Tyg, Olga, Rodor, and the two of us took to the Dalzoc. Tyg used this intricate strategy with one of the Helmets of Whispers, with the so apt name, Wounding Whispers upon it. He charged into the center and I watched as he took down an entire legion of Hobgoblins just by standing there and letting them swing at him.

Regardless, Ulfgrim has been feeling a bit better, the wounds are still fresh, the bruises still tender, but I'm just glad to see him moving around again. I was worried for a time.

---

The meeting with Vellyn went well. Understandably she is upset about her situation regarding her emotional outburst in the Hall of Jurisprudence. She was upset. We all would be if someone as close as Inanna was to Vellyn were to pass at the hands of another, by someone we passed in the streets many times over. It's so easy to forget, but we are all living lives. We pass by one another, touching lives in unknown ways. It's hard to remember that in the blink of an eye, all can change. Taking the life of another should be no easy thing, ever.

Either way, she approved the official charter of the Rathgan. While the Stele was temperamental and wasn't accepting it, she told me that she would speak with Alexandria and get us some way of being official. We're trying to continue in some way the goals of the Duunthall, but we are learning from its history. We are being more open and public with our moves and goals instead of secretive.

We don't want a repeat of the Treason.

---

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- The Shadow Realm of my dreams nightmares.
---

Then, the War Council. It was good, longer than usual. I've offered myself for Faith's task should Theo not be able to make it. He said he would be interested, but now he just has to tell Faith that himself. I am also of the opinion, that when the attack on the Flame Palace is to take place. That the Rathgan should attempt to assist in some way. We need to get our names out there, and let Ephia know that we are here to help.

In the meantime, I'll do what I can to get the others stronger. To search for scrolls for Tharrik. To find new weapons for Yorin. To tend the wounds of Ulfgrim. To bring in new recruits, brothers, there are some promising options. Sevor, Klaus, Burdumz. That's the best I can do for the time being. Just until we are strong enough. For the Orc'ah are always improving.

And we need to be better.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 23rd, IY 7789

"Sloth, disinclination to action. A deadly vice – spiritual apathy. Loves not, hates not, cares not. Interferes with nothing. Lives for nothing. Dies for nothing." - A totem made from the teeth of a Bodak.

---

The day the howls of pain silenced.

I had the opportunity to join a mission set out by the Warmaster. Faith brought me along on the mission to free the beast chained, tortured, and imprisoned by the Orc'ah. The creature they were using to birth, mould, and shape into monsters against us. Beasts capable of breathing flames and with a deadly bite.

We met with Zyn, he told us that the route to the Forge had been discovered, and  that we were to go in and 'stop the Bronzeflesh from ever seeing the surface of the Disc again.' There would be no second chances.

It was no easy battle. Ariixaka, a Gudari of the Sukaitza, perished. While she was not exactly the kindest of souls, she had passion, gusto, and was willing to work with us Rathgan for our projects. The fireballs just continued to fly in, and before I knew it, a Bronze beast had her in its maws.

Further in, after some very close calls, we arrived. Some smith spoke to us, offering to serve us if he could continue his creations. Doing so would mean the 'prison' would remain, pained, tormented, suffering. We declined of course. After the harrowing battle, and more close calls, we prevailed. I'll not forget the look of relief upon Faith's face to see the smith fall.

Evanderall's excellent shooting, paired with Itzalle's ingenuity allowed them to get the far northern chain, one that was suspended above molten metal. Without their quick thinking, we'd still be stuck in there, trying to free the beast.

As the charges went off, Faith was a hero. She returned to where Ariixaka fell, carrying her body to the defence position whilst the rest of the building and tunnels collapsed. No one left behind. Even the dead. It is good knowing that Ariixaka will return home instead of being buried in that molten tomb.

The Sukaitza will make sure of that.

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- The Bronze Beast, free.

I am grateful that those on this mission could witness Baalera's mercy and, in their wisdom, set the Bronzebeast free. Though it may have seemed fearsome, monstrous even, we did not let fear dictate our actions. Instead, we showed it kindness, proving that strength is not merely in the sword but compassion. I am grateful, too, to be alive, so that I might return to stand once more at Ulfgrim's side and with the Rathgan, to continue walking the path set before me with purpose and faith.

There will be many trials ahead. I'll need to be ready, and so will the Rathgan.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 24th, IY 7789

I was nearly injured today.

Not in battle against a Titan of Dawning, nor in some arcane duel against Yr'kel, a warlock of great and dark power. No, it was something far simpler, and yet, it nearly spelled my end.

Upon the boardwork jobs of Hufaidh, alongside my trusted companions, Evanderall, Olga, Faith, Remi, and of course, steadfast Ulfgrim, we were beset by pirates. Not mere bandits of the sea, but warriors attuned to the storm, wielders of lightning whose arrows struck with the fury of the heavens. Ulfgrim is of belief that they are of the Ṉ̴̃̔i̷̗̜̟̳͍͕͙̦̘̯̩̙̟͉͊͌̒̚͘͠͠͠n̷̩̮̣̲̐̐̈͛͝͠t̴͚͎̫̺̘͖̖̺̳̑̿́̽̂͛̇̏͗̾̈́̆͠͝h̴̢̡͎̣͙̺̜͍̜̖̒͌̈́̀͗̃̇̊̌͝ That is possible.

Foolish of me, I strode forward, seeking to unravel their fears, to pierce the veil of their bravado and expose the trembling souls beneath. But wisdom delayed by arrogance is no wisdom at all. Spells take time, and in that time, they struck. Their arrows bit into me like the storm itself reaching forth, and their big-muscled brutes swung at me, fast and hard, and in that moment, I was reminded of something all too often ignored.

Mortality.

Dwarves live long, centuries upon centuries, but we are not immortal. And more often than not, it is not time that claims us but battle. Too much confidence, too much belief in one's own invincibility, these are the failings that send even the mighty to their graves. Today, I was fortunate. My companions, my dearest allies, stood by my side. Without them, I would have fallen, and that would have been the end for me.

Let this be a lesson to myself, some wisdom gained. Strength lies not only in knowledge, not only in power, but in the wisdom to know when to use them. Never again shall I underestimate an enemy, no matter how crude their methods may seem.

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- The Coast of an Unknown Isle in the Sea of Pearls.

If anything though, I will say that the islands of Hufaidh are beautiful. Their waters shimmer with the light of the sun, their skies vast and unbroken. The Sea of Pearls glistening, and for a time one forgets about the edge of the world, and the Ash burning away at life. But there is not enough snow here, not enough stone.

I think a trip to Kulkund is in the coming future. I miss home. I miss [There is an ink blot that lingers, but the rest of the sentences does not come.]

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 26th, IY 7789

The trip to Kulkund occurred.

We of the Rathgan, save for Yorin, went to the Mountain. To gaze at its beauty for Klaus had not been to such since his arrival in the Well. That, or perhaps he does not remember it, what with his amnesia and all. We were able to show him around, reading reports from Inquisitors, investigating the breached mines, and finding the old dwarven hovels.

It was nice visiting again, though I thought I saw the collapsed tunnels I escaped from. But I can't be sure. It was a while ago now. It's been almost two months since I arrived at the Well. Twelve days, and then it will be two months.

In that time, I've met so many people, become somewhat of a heretic to my people, made friends, found kin, discovered passions for alchemy, and graduated from College. It's been quite the journey thus far. Running into burning molten forges to rescue a creature from torture. Warring against the Orc'ah. Creating a home for Dwarves of the sands. It feels good to have found myself under the light of Izzakhar.

My truth.

---

After much work, patience, and back and forth conversations, the Rathgan has been officialized as a position within the government. Whilst we are mainly a guild of sorts, the Stele has issues making that sort of thing. So in its place were titles made. The Legates are aware of our charter, and I suppose Aurelio is now too. For some reason he was interested in knowing how much wage we make.

I feel an uncomfortable pit in my stomach were I to tell someone such. Gold make me uneasy, which I understand how that sounds being a High Dwarf. But, learning of my people and their propensity to hoard it, much to the harm of others, the Deep Dwarves for example, I worry about jealousy, envy. Things of that nature. He looked at me suspiciously, which in truth hurt, then merely said he would go around me and ask another.

I won't be like my ancestors before me. I'll use the coin I have earned through Izzakhar's creations. Potions, wands, and scrolls - maybe even alchemy too now! and help voice my kin. To help others, to give people goals and quests. I've even offered to give coin to people who help retrieve alchemical supplies for me.

Shadowstone is always in great need. I've managed to make a shadow chameleonic potion that coats one in darkness. It's useful, I guess, to people who are naturally sneakier than I. If anything though, it's quite fascinating. I've also managed to acquire some more alchemical based gear, so once I acquire more Shadowstone, I can test out my more difficult recipes. Who knows what creations I can make to bring aid. To be useful.

That's what I tell my Brothers; Be useful. Let the Well know of our talents, so that we are not forgotten. So that we are seen.

We'll see what the rest of the day brings, but so far, things are looking good. I know I've scolded myself in the past for writing early diary entries, but, I just had to write and paint whilst the Well was in its hours of quiet. The sun still has not risen, not yet at least, but when it does, I'll be ready to capture it.

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- The Demons Gaze, Pra'raj.

As the dawn comes, we will see what else the day holds. Perhaps more work, more trials, or another discovery waiting beneath the sands. Whatever it may be, I will face it as I always have. With purpose, with faith, and with the will to carve meaning from the stone of each passing moment alongside friends.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 27th, IY 7789

Once more, we journey to Qadira, this time to contend with pirates. Their ships are curious things, each bearing the mark of a life lived on the edge of law and chaos. I wonder how many have sailed under their banners, only to meet their end upon the waves.

Ulfgrim spoke, in passing, of vacations. A fleeting thought, but perhaps one worth entertaining. Yet, where on this Disc could one find true respite? Certainly not the Well. A place of heat, dust, and ceaseless scheming. No, it does not lend itself to peace. But then, do any places?

Maybe our Hall could serve as a place? I'll have to think on this more. I'd love to go on a vacation with just Ulfgrim. I think I've only ever seen his actual smile once. It'd be nice to see it again.

---

In other news, we were able to purchase Klaus a Voice. This is good. He should now be at least somewhat protected under the laws of the Well. Safe from being Voiceless. It also means that our political influence grows too. Whilst I detest the politics of the Well, it is an essential game to play.

Yet, it is far from a game. People live and die by it, and some are made and unmade by its very schemes. At least now, the government will recognize Klaus as Rathgan. It is good to know the history of the Duunthall, and attempt to learn from their past mistakes. Walking more publically in the eyes of others, instead of so secretive and hidden.

---

I feel as though I am on the verge of a breakthrough in my studies of dark magic.

'Unbound, we circle this dance and still can not escape. Our will is fleeting when evoked by the art old. Each path forward is another back. So they dance.' - Anima Restrico.

Jealousy. Envy.

These are negative emotions most time, and yet I cannot help but feel them. Shum has found the answer to a question that I have been seeking for quite some time. Somehow, he has attracted the attention of a seemingly neutral entity that has bestowed upon him a gift.

A gift of power; Knowledge. Knowledge that I lack, and desire all the same.

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- The Shadowed Storyteller, name unknown.

I am jealous. I'm aware enough to at least acknowledge that. Not of Shum's path, but of the knowledge he is granted. To wield darkness, to shape it rather than be shaped by it. This is power worth seeking, what I seek. But wisdom tempers ambition. I must be patient. In time, all things will be revealed.

Instead, I will turn my gaze to the ruins surrounding Formoria, to the secrets buried beneath its stones. The dead remember what the living forget. Perhaps they will yield the knowledge I seek. I wish to understand the dark, to stand near its power, but not to lose myself within it. I will hold to the light of Izzakhar, as a flame that tempers the shadow. One must know both, lest they be consumed by either.

If anything though, it was an honor to be in the presence of something so old and ancient.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 28th, IY 7789

"A curse in the hands of the righteous becomes a blessing, a curse in the hands of the enemy remains a curse." - The Storyteller.

I think about these words often.

Darkness. Light. Walking the line between with knowledge gained. One could burn life away with an overabundance of positive, as well as wither away disease with negative. Too many times, people look at the surface of something and call it good or bad. I think of the Crucible beast, begging to be saved. Its appearance caused a few to stumble, to question. Yet, I still believe its intentions were good. It wanted to be free, free of the suffering the Orc'ah were causing it.

Good can look bad, and evil can look good.

Izzakhar teaches that wisdom is the key to seeing beyond illusion, to recognizing truth where others see only shadows. I strive to walk that path, though I wonder how often I falter, how often my own prejudices blind me. Still, I trust that understanding will come, as long as I seek it.

My alchemical specialty is, after all, focused on the dark shadow energies of the realm. In and of itself, it is quite a terrifying theme to work with. Evil, some might say. Yet, the blessings and magics of a Speaker make one naturally resistant to the awful effects of failures. Instantaneous death is quite a deterrent for academic study. Still, whilst it is an area of esoterics that I study, I still walk in the light. I have at least been able to find some useful recipes.

An Eclipse Stone - Capable of calling forth pockets of darkness. Paired with a Mass Ultravision and one is concealed in the dark and able to see.

A Shadowray Rod - Potent negative energy channeled to a focused point and aimed at ones enemy.

A Jar of Shadows - A recent discovery, and very difficult to make. Offers a versatile option for magics from the plane of Shadows to be implemented. Though, it does require some practice to wield properly by those of light.

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- Jar of Shadows.

---

The Night Annihilators.

The Prime Rippers.

More forts fall to the Union. The trees of Auld burn as we progress towards Bet Nappahi. I prayed and prayed during my absence on the raid of the Wall. For those who fight bravely to remain safe.

But I grow weary. The weight of war presses heavily upon my shoulders, on all of us, and I long for the end. Let it be near. Let the battle's toll be counted, and let the dust settle so that we may see what remains.

When the blood has dried and the war songs have faded, I will turn my gaze to the Holds of the Dwarves. To Got Valdhazr. A place to reclaim. A home for my kin; Ulfgrim, Tharrik, Yorin, Klaus. The names I hold close, the bonds that keep me moving forward.

I must persevere. I must lift my head, though it grows heavy. Wield the light, though the darkness closes in. To falter is to fail, and I will not fail. Not now. Not when the end is within reach.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Tammuz 1st, IY 7789

'In which lovers shed their tears.'

I think today is the first. I don't wish to shed tears. Truth be told, I'm a bit lost time wise. I thought it would be a good idea to wander the Ramparts. To seek the Dwarven hold of Got Valdhazr. Yet, I've quickly come to realize that was rather foolish. Especially not telling anyone where I've gone to.

Normally it would have been fine. I can handle a few Orc'ah on my own. What I can't handle however is falling.

I found the Hold, and then I promptly found myself in the Hold. The sands shifted and now I'm here, stuck in a hole. Thankfully, my alchemical research means I carry vast amounts of Barleybread and liquids. Though, it's been some time. At first people bellowed for me. Seeking divine brews, now, grim things.

Dead allies, betrayals, politics.

What will the Well be like when I return?

---

I took a moment to reflect. I can hear things beyond the walls. I'm not sure if they are Orc'ah, or something else entirely. Spirits? Maybe. The dead? Most likely.

Perhaps, the spirit of the Flamebringer will keep me safe and warm in the coming nights. Hearthfires only last so long, and I'm out of oil flasks.

I wonder if Shadowstone burns well? Probably might attract bad things.

The bellows continue. Three dead. Qen, a man of whom I had spent little time with. I'll remember his laugh though. He had a good one. Dralnu, a Banda, and follower of Coordum. Yet, even though he was a Speaker of the Murderer, the lad often stood at my side protecting me, I'll remember that. Shame he's gone. Mansur, I didn't know him all that well. A skilled whip user, and follower of the Wheel.

Mortality.

It makes you think. Any moment could be your last. I'll cease my writings for a moment. I can hear Orc'ah patrols, or something...a voice.

---

The hole I am in is now sufficiently having a lived in vibe. Etching and writings line it with stone markings. My inner thoughts manifested outwards.

Mainly my thoughts drift to Kha'esh. What is going to happen to the Union now? Sometimes I wonder if we're on the right path. I hope my prayers will see the Rathgan safe through whatever the Well pulls us through.

It seems like things are still moving along. A raid led against another Orc'ah clan whilst I sit in the dark. Sooner or later, I'll need to pull myself free from this hole. Is now a bad time to write that I sprained my ankle?

Call it self-humor. I'll get some more rest, whilst others enjoy their 'fun' that these bellows speak of. Maybe a bit more divine light into my ankle too. Just a few more days. I'll survive.

In the night, shadows creep and sway,
Whispers in the dark, they softly say,
A voice in my ear, "Stay... just stay."

I think not. I'm eager to see my friends and loved ones faces again.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Tammuz 3rd, IY 7789

What a busy day. Just one day of freedom from my pitfall in the Nusrum and already so much has happened.

I, and the Rathgan fought many battles today, defended the camp, even though it was filled with the bodies of the Union. Members of the Rose, the Janissaries, the Tower, and other factions that make up this Union of Kardesler. I had to step over their fallen forms just to reach the war camp. There was no dignity in that moment, only necessity. Their blood stained the earth and the memory clung to the soles of my boots. The memory of the Well 'betraying' Kha'esh.

Was that what it was? Truth be told, the complexities of politics escape me. But, it feels wrong.

The defense itself went well. Not many were injured in the fights against the Orc'ah. Their numbers wavered as they sensed our momentum building. Afterwards, the moment came, Aurelio led the charge against the Walls of Abulmahhu, firing the Kusatma once more, paving the way to the last living Tree that stands between us and Bet Nappahi. For a human, he is rather striking in appearance. He carries himself with poise, and his beard is quite distinguished.

The battle was intense, but the left flank held strong. Faith led us well. She has a way of balancing wisdom with warmth, and people follow her not just out of respect, but affection. Thought, there was a halfling among us I had never seen before, who dove into the fray without hesitation. He was wounded twice, but no others fell. That sort of bravery, or perhaps recklessness, is to be expected when one leaps from a caravan straight into a war.

After the assault, the tree fell. The last of its kind, ancient and strange. With its fall, we put an end to the wards between us and Bet Nappahi. Then, it was on to the Kralzokh Clan. Another fortress, another stronghold of the Orc'ah, taken and cleansed. Yet I find no joy in this. Only sorrow.

A tree that stood long before our time, burned and broken. A relic of the auld world, now gone forever. Not even ash remains to speak of its presence. It fills me with grief, and a quiet fury, that Iakmes would hide behind such beauty. That he would use something so sacred as a shield. The loss of it will stay with me. From the first time these Trees were burned, to the last. Another piece of what once was, now nothing more than memory.

---

On a task with Hashem, Cogsworth, Izmail, Hanson, Katya, and myself, we dealt with trolls in the Pfaqa canyons. Again, Hashem was plagued by the Seekers, those strange voices that try to reach him across whatever boundary lies between us and them. This time, those of us skilled in the arcane stood together—three working in unison—and pushed them back. The ritual seemed to take hold. For now, they are silent.

I have offered my aid to Katya. Tomorrow, I will journey with her and fourteen others to a place they have named the 'Fireball Palace', a name I find ominous. It was mentioned during the War Council. Ulfgrim and Tharrik will be among the group, and it falls to me, as Priest, to see that they survives. I know Ulfgrim's ways at least. Reckless, wild, claiming he was forged in flame. I was not. I am stone, not fire. But I will do what I must.

Later, I sat with Hashem once more. The last time we truly spoke like that was nearly two months ago. It was a comfort to be in his company again. I shared my intent to help him, though I could not promise anything, for the future remains veiled. Tomorrow I may perish, so I thought it best to promise to aid after...or not at all.

He offered me a ring. A simple thing, but etched with protections against elemental forces, and alongside it, potions that ward against flame. I accepted them, quietly, and with a touch of something I did not expect. The feeling of being seen. Of being cared for. Not out of duty or command, but affection. Until that moment, I did not realize how deeply I had missed that.

There are people here who enjoy my company. Who value me. And that truth has crept up on me like the dawn. Gradual, but undeniable. It's strange. When I think of the man I was when I arrived in the Well, and the man I am now, they feel like strangers to one another. Only some months apart, and yet worlds removed.

Now, I sit here, gazing at the painting I made as I write. A simple thing, but full of memory. Home. Kin. Friends. Loved ones. Kulkund. Each stroke of color a tether to something or someone lost or distant.

'A time where lovers shed their tears.'

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- An exchange, a promise, a gift of a Royal Favour Flower.

I never thought those tears might be for me. That someone might weep if I did not return. That someone might miss me, not just as a priest or a comrade, but as me. Korinthus.

This may even be the last of my journal entries. A terrifying thought. However, in that truth it has made one thing crystal clear.

I want to live.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Tammuz 4th, IY 7789

[Grime, sweat, and some faint bloody fingerprints adorn the page.]

As I sit in the Hall nursing my fresh wounds, suppose I have the Whisperers to thank for that, I cannot help but smile. After yesterday's thoughts of life and living, the trepidation in my own step. I feel as though Izzakhar heard my prayers. After the clamour of battles, the heat of the flames, and the Ash of the sands had settled, I still stood.

I live.

---

It began with the call to rally to the War Camp. There had supposedly been a report that the Orc'ah were on the move behind the walls of Abulmahhu. I rallied and found the Rathgan there too. The intel and reports were correct. The wall dropped to the South of the War Camp.

However, what I did not expect was for Iakmes himself to take the field. He offered a parley, an opportunity to speak, yet, whilst I wished to step forward, to speak to the man myself. To know of his knowledge, to ask him 'why'. So many questions, and now, no answers. Yet, I know my own importance, and it is not enough to warrant stepping forward to speak to him. Though I do wonder, what if?


[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



[A surprising amount of care and time was put into painting the image of Iakmes.]

- Iakmes, Son of the Heavens.

Oddly enough, as a follower of Coordum. I don't doubt that he would be willing to sit down and converse with people. Maybe even me. To give them yet another chance to surrender, to admit that he is the strongest. He even offered it to the Well in a way. But, my people, the Kin of Stone. Could we ever forgive him for what he's done to us? What his 'progeny' do to us on the daily. War. That is all the Orc'ah seem to be good for. While they make things, yes, Izzakhar would look at their ingenuity and crafts and shake His head, for they are made for one purpose. One intention, and it is not the kind of wonder He seeks. War, death, murder. 

It was Sorazin Bey who had brought the grand strength of the Legions to the field in our aid. Things were looking dire before he arrived, many wounded, and some dead. He brought the first, second, fourth, sixth, ninth, and eleventh legions. I even got to witness the might of the Geomancers. A beautiful, magical arte that I wish to gain knowledge upon, just like that of the dark.

With it, we were saved, and the Orc'ah were forced to retreat behind the walls once more.

---

The day did not end there, nor did the deeds of war.

'Fireball Palace'

That is what it was called. For its intense heat. Yet, while it may have been called a palace, a factory may have been a more apt name. Inside was large mining equipment. It seemed the Orc'ah were digging into the earth itself to pull forth ores and iron. Their intent seemed to have been more creations. Golems and Titans made from iron. They had made a few, some earlier prototypes may have been the living coffin that they placed Marcellus Saenus into. Dubbing him the Unifier.

Regardless, we progressed into this palace/factory. Turning gears, employing shadow tactics of calling forth pools of darkness to hide in. All the while using Cogsworth's genius cooling inventions to stave off the skin-sloughing heat. In one of the narrow tunnels is where I sustained my wound. I could be angry at the defenders for their positioning, I could be angry at myself for allowing myself to be cornered off, away from the shields, but in truth I am grateful. Grateful that I still draw breath, for in those moments between life and death. I begged.

I begged to return, to draw breath again as the spears of the Whisperers robbed it from me. In that liminal space between, I vaguely remember Tharrik. We spoke of something, I remember laughter, longing, regrets, and something else.

It was here when I awoke from my state of death that I saw it. The fruits of our labors. A massive structure held in place by chains. A titan beyond titans, a colossus of iron. This is what the Orc'ah had been working towards. The Iron Titans previously were but pawns to the king who would soon take the field. Thankfully, with the aid of the Sukaitza and all who attended this palace. We managed to destroy it.

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- The Iron Colossus partially built.

On our escape, I lost sight of the Rathgan. Wounded I still was, clutching my bleeding side, and vision blurred from the heat of the Scald. It was only when I was upon the Ashsail did I notice that Yorin was missing. For two minutes the man was alone down there. I do not know how, but perhaps the prayers we spoke of before our mission were heard. He somehow managed to grab hold of the rope as we sailed off. The Rathgan live. The last of the Dwarves.

We live.

Now, I must tend my wounds before I bleed any further on this throne, or my diary. Perhaps I'll paint a bit before rest finds me, even still off the battlefields, my adrenaline surges. Tomorrow is another day and more boardwork is in my future. Another breath of life awaits, and I will not take it for granted.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Tammuz 6th, IY 7789

The wound I suffered in the Fireball Palace, stubborn and lingering, has stirred once more. I had thought it was well-mended and sealed by salve and spell, but pain is a patient builder. It remembers what the mind would prefer forgotten.

During our boardwork to the Serpent's Roost, I was struck down again. Not with finality, but with enough force to remind me of my fragility. These caves of Melek are unkind, winding and wicked in design, and their leader did not seem to like me mending the frontline one bit. I suspect I shall not return there, nor mourn the absence. Let them keep their shadows.

There is a lesson here, as there always is. Haste and unpreparedness are seldom rewarded, save with new wounds and older regrets. I knew not the depth of what we walked into at the time, but now I do. Knowledge is both shield and blade, and I carried too little of either that day.

I'll try to look on the bright side of things, to the light.

[Korinthus Dûngir's Painting Check Skills are Above Average.]



- Gazing up at the Firmament.

---

And yet, balance. Always balance.

Despite the ache, despite the frustration, the day was not without its gifts. Trying to find the light in the dark moments. I spent many hours beside Ulfgrim, and our conversations were a balm no healing could match. There were laughs, true laughs, the kind that remind the body it still belongs to the living. There are times I feel young again laughing with him and joking around.

Even joy, in pain's company. A strange pairing, sure, but perhaps a necessary one. One cannot wait for perfect days to find happiness. One must grasp it where it hides, behind a shared jest, a warm voice, a passing kindness, a lover's gaze.

Izzakhar teaches that the stars are constant even when hidden from sight. So too, it seems, is purpose. Life gives and takes in unequal measure, and often it feels as though it favors the latter. But if the scales are uneven, then let us be the ones who tip them, by giving. Just like the Shepherds would have it. By offering laughter when we have little reason, or care when it is not asked for. This, too, is magic.

Also, he let me punch him in the face today. To test out theories with Divine Power, of course. Of course, no other reason.

I am grateful for the Rathgan. Were it not for them, I cannot say where I would be. Likely lost in some labyrinth of doubt, following echoes instead of truths. But here, I have purpose. I have people.

Not only in the Rathgan though, I have found other people. People in the Well too. Despite the Wells hardships, there are good people in it. I know them, and I hope they know me.

Fate is a curious writer. Sometimes I think he errs in his lines, but then again, perhaps he simply writes in a hand we are not yet wise enough to read.

In humility, we remember. In openness, we receive.

What is given in wisdom shall not be lost.

What is spoken in truth shall echo beyond this age.

And what is etched into the stars shall guide us home.

So let it be written. So let it be shaped.

Wisdom, light my way.