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

[CrimsonMedicine]

Iyar 27th, IY 7789

Today, I learned a great deal about those who care for me. The day began slow, as they often do. Quiet moments of contemplation are spent inside the Hall, reading, writing, and painting. It wasn't until I heard folks begin to gather for board work that I emerged. It seems that people are beginning to look to me for enspellments, of which I am happy to provide. It helps pay the rent, and I can protect whatever manner of beast they are going to face.

Besides that, though, the 'care' I write about came in the form of words and actions. In particular, a new dwarf who arrived not too long ago at the Well, Olmon, said 'Love you'. I don't think he understood the intensity of such a statement to a Kulkund Dwarf, but he later made it seem more casual. I was definitely flustered at the time, though.

Another instance came in the form of physical affection. Raven, a 'Moon Elf', hugged me after receiving the blessings of Izzakhar. That's likely why, though. Most likely, gratitude for providing magic to aid in succeeding on one's task. I enjoy helping, and if coins, affection, and smiles are my rewards, that doesn't seem too bad.

I know my ancestors would disapprove of me, and my Ma and Pa would frown upon the man I have become am.

---

More battle, more war. The Rathgan's duties continue.

The Zrubrurzid.

What a name for a Clan. This time, Aurelio led the charge. To no ones surprise the raid went smoothly and efficiently. However, near the end of such a battle Ulfgrim charged ahead. A section of bridge leading to an area teeming with Orc'ah. I thought he wasn't going to make it, dread settling into my heart, but then the Void-callers beckoned dark thoughts manifested outwards, and in his fear, Ulfgrim ran to me. I was able to lay a healing hand upon him before he fell.

But, in those moments I worried for him. As I seem to always do.

---

I went home today.

An expedition to visit the places I could not usually go without grapple and rope. Many joined me; Norska, Kiran, Nela, Theo, Emmony, and of course the members of the Rathgan. We found a wayward camp for kin. I always wonder a melancholic thought when I enter into areas such as that.

How long has it been since this place heard the sounds of laughter? Who's footsteps am I walking in, and are they around to make more? How much history does this place hold?

Some of these questions are hard to answer, but they always fill my mind.

'Sing the song they seek to silence.'

That was written on the walls of the caves, the caves I used to crawl around as a beardling. I wonder if it's the song the Elder sings?

I should speak to him again; so much to learn.

I've run out of painting supplies, so it's another trip to the Souk on the morrow. For now...

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Iyar 28th, IY 7789

The island of Ait Tujum.

A beautiful place, despite the cursed aura that lingers in the air. A place of verdant forests and greenery. It seems that a new job on the board has opened up. Guess the Captain found a route and with it danger. So, the Pyramid posted a new contract. I was able to rally some folks: Serhiy, Cordelia, Cogsworth, Freya, and the Lonely Lieutenant Rennik.

It was wonderful. My working theory is Wyldwalkers experimenting with the aspects of rot. The island is coated in an aura of potent negative energy. Of course, with that comes the undead. Though where it is usually found in the form of humanoids, these were of bestial forms.

With the tome of Forbidden Numerology in my possession.

I now set my sights on other forms of dark magic. I think that with constant study, there may be a way to counteract them with positive energies to neutralize them out. There was an altar that required a bit of prayer to sanctify; however, in my haste to utter the words, I must have messed up, for the altar remained blighted.

I'll need to revisit these blighted isles to attempt a different prayer to cleanse the altar. It might bring a bit of peace to the Isles for a time and give me a better understanding of the dark.

---

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



- Ait Tujum, the isles of blighted crimson.

---

The Sandstone still holds many secrets. I was able to wander around some of their more hidden quarters with Raven. Her eyes are more perceptive than mine are. We located some slacking students playing some sort of board game. What was most interesting, though, was a man named Deadhe, or Beadhe?, I don't quite recall.

He was acting odd and strange. I wanted to inquire if he was studying anything Esoteric, but he wouldn't tell me. Based on how far and distant he was from most of the faculty, I am in belief that he is studying something that would be of great interest to me. Raven suggested we find someone who has a pretty good knack for persuading others, or maybe a big beefy man who can intimidate him into telling me.

No, that's mean. I think I'll just look for someone with a softer and sweeter voice. Either way, it's interesting to me, and I feel the need to know. It feels like now that I have graduated from the Sandstone, I am getting closer and closer to what I wish to know.

To understand how to wield and control dark magic. For one to defend against the dark artes, one must know them, But one also must be careful not to be consumed by what one studies.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 2nd, IY 7789

A time where unions of love are formed.

That's what they say, at least, but I am unsure if it is true in times of war. I suppose connections and companions are found amidst the battle cries and clang of steel. If that is the case, then today is no different.

Tonight was a grand step for the Union of Kardesler. A historic moment. We shattered a hole in the walls of the Abulmahhu using the Kusatma. It cried out in power as the Stonefolk Tenth Legion sang to it. Our way was open, and what lay ahead? A massive fortress, larger than any we had scaled before.

Yet, we did not cower. I was afraid, of that I am certain, but I didn't let it hold me back. Being broken up into three groups to take down the fields. Ulfgrim, leader of the Rathgan, Aurelio, Balladeer of the Rose, and Rhuk Nor, Sergeant of the Jannisary.

We three teams took each our own path, left, right, and center. I cannot say for certain what the other paths encountered, but I believe that ours was the hardest. The Middle. We had to fight through a valley of Whisperers and break through a Molten, then it was up to us to claim the field and open the path for the other sides. Theo was in charge of the bombs; without him, we would have been stuck, separated from the others for who knows how long. I'm grateful to have such strong and stalwart warriors by my side.

I felt true fear during the next field. A large Titan, unlike the ones I have faced thus far. These were twisted, tormented, evil. A Titan of...night? Whatever the opposite of Dawning could be. It got worse when an Orc'ah knocked my crook from my hand, and I was separated from Izzakhars light for a time. Running around the field blind and useless. Faith found it and handed it to me amidst the chaos.

But in those moments, I was afraid again.

At the end of it all was a tree. A remnant of the Old World. The superiors in charge demanded we fire the Kusatma upon it. So, our Warmaster did as such. I don't understand why we did such a thing. To destroy an ancient piece of nature. What would the Silent Ones say? Probably nothing, but they seem to worship a tree.

I didn't feel good. Sure, we won against the Orc'ah, but why did we destroy the bones of the old world? Luther said they charge some sort of invisible barrier? I don't know how much of that is true. Some say that to make way for the new, the old must go. I don't feel good about that either.

It's something to ponder as we move ever closer to Bet Nappahi. The war reaches it's final hour. And whilst it isn't quite the witching hour, we draw ever closer.

---

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



- The Ancient Faced Tree from the Old World, burned by the Kusatma.

What other beauties must we destroy to see ourselves victorious? What other options do we have? Peace? Mercy? Is that something that can still be given? Is that something we want to? Could I, after all the Orc'ah have done to my people? Perhaps only the Gods know.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 3rd, IY 7789

Today was a good day. Whilst not a lot happened, it was nice after the chaos and uncertainty that was yesterday.

I was able to take a few new folks on the relaxed work. It's a nice surprise that the Pyramid and whoever or whatever mysterious folks get the board jobs posted jobs that are a bit easier occasionally. Allows for newer folk to get into the swing of things. Plus, if I am healing them, it's a bit safer, too.

From there, I sat around. Relaxing. Pondering. I thought of painting, but the only thing on my mind was that strange Titan, Titan of Dusk? Titan of Noon? and I had already painted the tree that was burned. It still weighs upon me. This guilt. The weight of watching history, ancient, be washed away in fire. Like scripture turn asunder never to be known or read again, such knowledge lost and scattered to the wind. To Ash.

Aided the Accord with Cort, Theo, Freya, Evanderall, and Selwyn. It went quite smoothly. We all work quite well together. Theo and Cort are in the front. Freya was doing her spinning maneuvers. Evanderall shoots the casters from afar. With Selwyn and I on support. Still nothing for a Speaker, though. It's fine. We children of stone are a patient sort.

---

Whilst I had already participated in the boardwork, we, being a large mass of folk. Katya, Evanderall, Theo, Selwyn, Cort, Nessia, Rodor, Emmony, Faith, Maqqari, and a new Awoken, Garen. They all went on the job to aid Frostport. Hopefully, now the Drakes won't be too much of a problem for the explorers and citizens of Frostport.

I remained behind, gathering milk from Halfdan. Buying it, mind you, not... never mind. There was a halfling that was craving it, so I think a soft and caring gesture might be something I'd want to try. I know my ancestors will roll around in their grave, but times change.

---

Ulfgrim and I chatted. We have a plan. Something big for the War. Something significant for the Rathgan too. Something that the Rathgan can aid with that has the potential to be a monumental turning point for the battle against the Orc'ah and Iakmes himself. I just need to find a way to meet with the Warmaster, or with the Legates themselves and arrange a meeting. We can't go offering things we don't have permission to.

Big things are in store. An end to not only one war, but one that has raged on for eight centuries may be in its closing moments. One can only hope. Maybe this age is the one where Kin, Cousins, and Clan bonds are reforged again.

Will I have the resolve to see this through?

Just maybe. A dwarf can only hope. Either way, the folks are coming back from the caves, and the cold is quite chilly. Time to head back to the Well.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 5th, IY 7789

Today was the day we went to Ait Tujum on an expeditionary effort.

I went with Nessia, Maqqari, Tharrik, Ulfgrim, Theo, and Faith to the Isles of Ait Tujum. It was Nessia's idea to study and map the islands. I had already been there, but perhaps it would be interesting to see other people's perspectives. Plus, it's always nice to hang out with friends.

Theo does a good job at keeping the mood positive, always cracking jokes and silly puns. We got to exploring, and I was able to name the entry landing. 'Ziggurat Cove'. It's got a nice ring to it, and seeing it, it makes sense. What with all the Ziggurats right by the dock.

I am beginning to have my theories about the island. The old and dead trees seem to have new trees growing from them. It is as if the Necromantic energies on the island are focused on nature. I've witnessed the Isle's coastlines host a Dark Wyldwalker. One who is potentially using the remains of what used to be here on the island to feed nature again. Perhaps in an unnatural way. There are bones and bodies scattered about the isle, perhaps these are a source of power?

There are large skeletal draconic remains further in the heart of the isle. It would be a potent energy source for all kinds of magical rituals.

---

Do people think I'd make a good Magistrate?

It was asked of me whether I would be willing to have my name put forth for such a role. The weight of justice is no light thing. It is one matter to uphold laws, another to be the arbiter of their execution. Dolling out punishments, ensuring fairness. It is a heavy burden.

Would I be just? Would I be fair? I would try, at the very least. It is a duty that demands not only knowledge but wisdom, and I have seen both just rulers and tyrants wear the same robes of authority. If I am to accept this, I must ensure I am never the latter.

---

Last night, I dreamt of Ulfgrim.

We stood in the halls of an ancient forge, the glow of molten metal casting warm light upon stone walls lined with runes. He was working, hammering away at something I could not see, but I felt the reverberation of each strike deep within my chest.

The rhythm of his work was steady, comforting. I stepped closer, but he did not turn. Not until I reached out, and then he looked at me, his eye reflecting the firelight. There was something unspoken there, something neither of us dared to name, yet it lingered in the air between us, hot as the forge's breath.

I woke before I could say anything. Perhaps it is for the best. Some things are easier left to dreams.

It is Hziran after all, yet I must remain focused. There is so much still to do. For Kin and for the future.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 6th, IY 7789

I awoke in the Hall this morning. Sitting up and looking around, I realized something. We have no windows. Without the braziers, the Hall would be shrouded in darkness. Then I think of home, Kulkund. My mind drifts to the deepest and darkest parts of home. That of Deep Kulkund. How dark it must have been, how frightening, how scary the dark can be. Especially when you are not alone in it.

It's why we're doing what we are doing. We were able to speak to the Warmaster and the White Legate. They seem on board with our goal. Now we need to think of a suitable gift to exchange. Is it dinar? How much dinar? One thousand? Is that too little? Ten thousand? Is that too little as well? How much is too much, or how much is too little? What of an object? A weapon? A material?

What would the Deep Dwarves want that we can provide?

---

I was able to return to Ait Tujum for contract work. Allowing me to go deeper into the island than usual. I returned to the altar, determined to make it work. I tried the verses of Salhin, I tried whispering praise to Kula, and both of those have failed. I believe that in appeasing the shrine the negative energy that flows through the roots and leaves of the forest will abate. If only a bit.

My studies in the School of Necromancy and its weaknesses continue. This will be an important discovery, similar to the counter-song that Cordelia sang to slow and cease the necromantic chanting when we assaulted a fort controlled by Yr'kel. My hope is that a certain prayer, an abjurative script, can be used to aid in removing the dark aura entirely.

We'll see. I had to cut through swathes of undead beasts just to reach it.

---

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



- The Warrior, Ulfgrim, at rest.

My painting supplies have been restocked. Which is good because it has been a while since I made anything. Felt good to create again. This one took some time, I wanted to get the proportions right. Dedicated the work to a close friend of mine. To kin.

We'll see what tomorrow brings. Perhaps more painting inspiration? Until then.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 7th, IY 7789

Politics, I'm not the biggest fan of politics, but one does what they must. I spoke about the need to meet with Legate Vellyn regarding an import matter to Rathgan. While I waited, I wandered the Well. During my wanderings, I stumbled into a Dwarf who had arrived from the sands. Yorin, an older gentleman who is quite the fighter, it seems.

Spent a good portion of the day with him, getting to know him, and outfitting him for his work. Brought him around the Hall and he found an axe that was of use to him. Told him a bit about the Rathgans goals to reclaim our home, in turn potentially granting him one whilst we are here. To fight in the war, and bring victory against our enemy, the Orc'ah.

I can tell he's a good man. It's why I told him to meet with the rest of the Rathgan. He likely has my vote to join us, should he wish for it. Let's hope he remains in the Well long enough to be accepted into it. Dwarfs seem to come and go. I've always wondered, though, if they don't stay here in the Well, where else do they go?

---

The Kolgrer Da Clan.

Dead now. During the raid, they seemed to have some sort of large, bronze-like creatures. People were shouting that they were the ones that took a woman by the name of Greta. Killing her on some kind of mission. They are somehow related to the dog-like bronze creatures that breathe flames.

The battle was fierce. Fire and steel clashed as we stormed their fort, the air thick with the scent of burning wood and scorched flesh. The Orc'ah fought like cornered beasts, but our discipline and resolve carried the day. The bronze creatures, whatever they were, proved to be a terrible force, breathing fire upon our ranks.

It's always a hard stench to remove from one's nose. Thankfully, I always seem to get lucky and find the Royal Favour Flowers. What a pleasant smell.

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



- The Bronze Monstrosity.

Another victory for the Well. Another fort was taken over and cleansed of the Orc'ah.

---

Overall, it's been a good day. A bit of boardwork. Warred upon the fields of the Scald. Met new Kin who has the potential to become Rathgan. Meetings proceed with Legates. Talks and rumors of a Magistrate position. Things have still been on the positive side.

Though, Izzakhar would state that one must be ready for the truth, that with good so to comes bad. I prepare myself for it, but for now, rest calls to me. Ulfgrim snores so loud though, maybe I'll give him a shove before I too fall asleep.

Wisdom, light my way.

[CrimsonMedicine]

Hziran 8th, IY 7789

Defeat.

The call for a grand raid echoed through the Well, and we answered. Another wall, as formidable as that of Abulmahhu, rose before us, another challenge, another test of our will to win. To beat the Orc'ah. The Kusatma roared to life, its fire a beacon of our intent, and thus began the battle. I still can't get over how loud the scream of it is.

But war does not bend to intent alone. The weight of siege demands many hands, and ours were too few. The gears turned slow, the ranks too thin. The tide of the Orc'ah was unrelenting, and as the battle stretched onward, it became clear that victory was slipping from our grasp. One by one, we were whittled down, some slain, some scattered, all tested. In the end, the order to withdraw was given, and so we yielded the field.

Defeat.

A bitter thing to some, a revelation to others. For me, it is but the confirmation of what I already suspected. The numbers did not favor us; we needed more, and we needed to be more prepared for such a raid. And yet, knowing does not lessen the weight of failure. I do not mourn my own pride, for pride is not my concern. I mourn those who sustain wounds at the pride of others.

Yorin, Aurelio, Tharrik, Shum, Catalina, Tacitha, so many were hurt in the battles. It will take a bit of time before the Well is back to it's full strength.

---

Yorin.

He is a promising Dwarf, one we seek to bring into the Rathgan. There is heart in him, a fire that does not wane even in the face of defeat. More than that, he understands what many warriors fail to grasp, that strength is not only in the strike of a hammer or the edge of a blade but in standing guard over those who cannot do so for themselves. He shields those without armor, the ones who work in the shadows of battle, ensuring they may do their part.

He shields me.

It is a rare trait and a valuable one. Given time, as he settles into his place, as he learns and grows, I have little doubt that he will become a warrior of great renown. The Rathgan would be fortunate to have him. And in truth, it is warriors such as he that shall see us through the long war ahead.

But I do not leave the Rathgan behind. Nor do I abandon those who remain, those who still have the will to fight.

'One battle lost is not the end of war.' - Ulfgrim Grimgarson

The Orc'ah have won this day, but the days ahead belong to those who endure.

---

I found something. Something interesting. Something that belongs to the dark. It came from the Scald, a piece of armor that looks as though there are pieces of it still missing. Not that it matters though. Speakers of the gods cannot wield such armors. Besides, I watched her pick it up before I could claim it and study it further. In those moments, though, I recorded the writings upon it.

"We are the children of the deep; Birthed dreary deep and far from sight, In the darkness we find restless sleep, Now do we enter into the Age of Night." - Unknown.

Still, I must know more. What is the Age of Night?

Wisdom, light my way.