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#Post#: 242--------------------------------------------------
Caleb's Journal (Age 21-24)
By: Caleb Norwill Date: April 10, 2015, 9:58 am
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((This is a compilation of 3 years of Caleb's journal entries,
reaching a total of 117 pages. I'm likely going to return to
this format, because I do really like writing IC journals. Thus,
this thread will be updated with diary entries as they happen;
this link is just fo the context of the other entries from over
the course of three years of RP. ))
HTML https://docs.google.com/document/d/17cN1P76t05Ip4kaJOEK36c0QEZjjEdwMkcq6lCXewXM/edit?usp=sharing
((I would love your feedback! Please use OOC brackets, as this
topic is both IC and OOC - IC for entries, OOC for feedback!))
#Post#: 243--------------------------------------------------
Re: Caleb's Journal (Age 21-24)
By: Alvarik Date: April 10, 2015, 12:09 pm
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((Caleb you are like an RP God now. I didn't have time to read
the whole thing yet but I'll read it tonight and tell you what I
think!))
#Post#: 245--------------------------------------------------
Re: Caleb's Journal (Age 21-24)
By: Caleb Norwill Date: April 10, 2015, 2:24 pm
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[quote]I have decided to resume the practice of writing diary
entries. The major subjects will be addressed in these entries;
my position within the Silent and its affairs, my relationship
with Daniel Iddear - Id, henceforth - and the ebbs and flows of
a mental state that toes the luge between the helpful and the
absurdly evil. Even writing that phrase fills me with revulsion
because I am reminded of something she said, something that she
told me; "laugh hard at the absurdly evil." Have I reached the
point where I am more comedic than anything else? And if so,
what does that mean? All of these issues need to be addressed
somewhere and this is the best of places. I am attempting to
structure it into three categories because without structure I
will collapse and be dammed to reciting the same poetic visions
over and over and it will not be helpful.
Let us begin with the Silent. I do not know how Mouse found me,
but I assumed my infamy proceeded me. I don't know why she
sought me out. Perhaps she needed a figure out of (mostly)
forgotten legend to add a mystical element to an already
supernaturally shrouded order. Nonetheless, I met her in the
Catacombs like she asked me, and she proposed I join her member
base. I accepted ; but not for reasons that were good and noble.
I joined first and foremost because I had nothing else to do.
After I came up from the ocean for the second time, I spent the
majority of my time pouring over old documents in Varian's
library, and even made some excursions to Dalaran's special
collection - the mundane wing, not the magical one. I was being
foolish. I was looking for anything that might strengthen my
claim, but the laws of succession do not apply anymore. Even if
they did, I don't even have the barest makings of a claim. I
have a stolen identity that is more than universally reviled.
There have been worse claims to the throne than mine, but those
were the claims of ursurpers and I am not an ursurper.
Nonetheless, it wasn't a healthy attitude, to sit and pour over
these books and wait for all the world to recognize me for who I
am. Or who I was. I was grateful for Mouse's message even if I
didn't think anything would come up of it. I thought I would
meet with her, speak with her, and then politely decline. But
that is not what happened. She explained and she was such a
young idealist that how could I say no? Even if it turned out to
be cruel and pointless; I could have always left. I am very
skilled at leaving orders behind. As it stands, however? I have
been in this order for close to two months. I find that it
satisfies something in me.
It's probably easy to pinpoint what that is. The Silent has
given me a sense of leadership that I crave. It's the only time
I really feel like I belong in the world. Because I lead,
because I get results, and because I'm good at it. I have led
several missions with the Silent. First, the expedition to
Silithus to investigate Twilight activity, second, the recovery
of Elinie Star-something, thirdly the investigation of Lord
Oakheart's estate, fourthly the capture of Atheun's blade and
his own execution. I have led teams to save members from
themselves and I even led the Silent's members when Mouse was
held for ransom. I am good at leading. I enjoy it and I am good
at it.
Alvarik Shieldbreak was talking to some junior members about me.
I thought was he said was... Meaningful, and thus I have decided
to record it here so that I might remember it. We had quarreled
for a bit, Alvarik, Id, and I and I found it strange because we
never argue. But he was deliberately provoking me, because he
wished to know about me. It reminded me, with some discomfort,
of her: that was what she would do. Philomene too, Lady Asteris
was fond of such games. I am not sure if Alvarik is more clever
for it, or more foolish. He has been engaging in suicidal
idealization, and professes to have a death wish. Perhaps the
study of Knights is one he should abandon, as it seems to be
scarring his person. But. What he said.
[hr]
"Caleb and I rarely argue: mostly this is out of fear of him. I
would advise you to fear him too." He called me a sadist. I am
not sure if that is true. What Id said to him in response was
haunting. "You shouldn't be afraid of Caleb; you should be
afraid of me. Caleb rarely does his own dirty work."
[hr]
Id. Let me talk about Id. Daniel Iddear, called Id, was born in
Darrowshire, to a paladin and a priestess when such unions,
particularly with children out of wedlock, were frowned upon.
These days I don't think anybody would bat an eye, but at the
time, it was a thing that could end reputations. After his
brother died and his father was killed in the raid on
Darrowshire his mother aimed for a fresh start in Corins
Crossing. I should have warned him. But I couldn't have, because
I didn't even know him. Even if I had known him, would I have
saved him? I doubt it. But in retrospect I curse myself and I
curse his mother for taking him to that place. He killed his
father when he rose from the grave, and he killed his mother
with his father's sword. We are kin killers, both of us. Our
shared history is part of what draws me to him.
Id is not tall, and heavily built, with a wealth of musculature
that suggests a lifetime of battling ; but more likely, working
farms. His is heavily decayed and would fall apart if not for
the ice that holds him together. He is very cold to the touch,
but it doesn't fit him. He's cold to Alvarik, but Alvarik was
being antagonistic. Nonetheless his issues with the living
exceed my own. He loathes them and holds them in barely
constrained contempt. The living wronged him. His lover left him
upon his return from the Scourge. Id strangled him to death. He
is a slayer of his beloved and I sympathize with that, given the
fates that my lovers met. Our shared experiences draw me towards
him, but more importantly what draws me towards him is the way
he handles me.
And here we reach the point of discussing the grand delusion. I
have been in and out of consciousness since my death - and
before hand - which leads me to believe that the trauma of dying
leads to the acceleration and worsening of mental conditions. I
treated Id very cruelly at Atheun Overland's manor, to the point
of letting him take a blow that I could have prevented as a sort
of payment for his attempt to command me - for attempting to
steal a victory that I believed was mine and mine alone. I was
on the edge of my hunger. He confronted me, and he told me I had
gone too far. He was right. I had gone to an extreme.
But the strangeness arises when he tells me that there is a
power imbalance in our relationship. He tells me ; we are not
equal. I am greater than him, because I am of royal blood. At
Invincible's grave I told him that was a lie. He and I both know
I am not of royal blood, and h told him as much. What he said
was very strange and very beautiful. "If it is real to you, then
it is real to me." Later, he would tell me that his loyalties
lay with the Crown. And he meant me, he meant me and I could
have kissed him for it and I did. Our relationship is neither
healthy from a psychological Standpoint or healthy from the
standpoint that I am worried about my soul for the first time
since I went out to sea.
Alvarik asked me if there is love after death. Probably another
thing for his damned book - which is apparently, a gift for me -
but I don't know if I have an answer. I love him, I love him, I
love him but I worry that I should not, and more than anything I
worry that he is not aware of what the price of loving me is. I
worry he does not know that I have no limits. I worry he does
not know that he has opened the floodgates of everything
terrible in me. Because now I care about him. Because he is
mine.
Historically, I betray the ones I care about. Historically,
nobody I love has made it out alive. [/quote]
#Post#: 250--------------------------------------------------
Re: Caleb's Journal (Age 21-24)
By: Caleb Norwill Date: April 11, 2015, 4:04 pm
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CONTENT WARN: Character Death, Gore
[quote]Alvarik was executed in front of me. Laetari cried, Ryhek
fell to his knees and went feral and I carried the body away,
feeling nothing. Harkon passed me as I was loading the corpse up
and said something about how the world isn't fair. No. The world
isn't fair, but ultimately; I think we all know and accept that.
Alvarik knew that. I don't know why he brought us in for
testimony. He had the Argent Crusade on his side. They didn't
even show up at the trial. The only people who testified were
us- the Silent. I saw neither head nor hair of our prosecuter,
and even less than nothing of the witnesses. All of our
testimony were character testimonials, but what does it mean
when your testimony comes from the mouth of thugs and murderers?
It means nothing. Less than nothing, and it is why Alvarik is
dead now.
I dragged his corpse to some secluded slum and rubble of
Stormwind, hiding him under a burlap sack. I went back and cut
down a piece of his noose and wrapped it around Alvarik's neck,
tying the rough rope into a bow. I saw Id, as visions of
buildings burning flashed behind my eyes. I told him I ha a
present for him. I don't know if i meant to give Id to Alvarik
from the moment he was cut down, or if I had tied the bow for
some other reason. Id was happy he was dead, but then, happiness
turned to horror; he couldn't bear watch Alvarik decay in front
of him. He shouted at me, with his eyes wide and wild. It's
true. I didn't think about it. I didn't thinks that Id might be
sensitive.
Id's body was forgotten in the Scourge's vaults for a longtime.
When he woke up, his body was half rotted, half putrid. If he
did not freeze himself, he would have fallen apart. I did not
rot in the same way he did so I did not even think of what it
must be like. What -must- it be like to see bodies decay into
nothing and realize that was almost your fate? I am fortunate, I
suppose. I was raised right after I died. I didn't even realize
I was -dead- for a year afterwards. Alvarik's body is a median
between Id's and I's extremes. I didn't know what to do with
him, so Id froze him until we decide what to do. Then, we parted
ways, less amicable than last time.
I walked home to my house on the hill. I broke in, the fungus
had overgrown the door again. I sat there and waited for
something but I don't know what I was waiting for. It took me
two hours of staring at the door, ignoring that Leoric was
inching closer and closer to my foot to realize what I was
waiting for. I was waiting for her to open the door, and bring
me Alvarik's body, all dead and cold but alive too. I was
waiting for her to come to me at the gates of Stratholme all
over again, waiting for her to bring me another solider for my
army.
I left my house on the hill at three morning bells and walked
down the main road in human skin. Argents stared at me as I
walked by, and I realized that people's memories of me had
nearly faded. This was an Order of Strangers. They did not know
Caleb Norwill, kinslayer and accursed. They did not know Caleb
Norwill who had killed so many of their brothers and sisters.
One of the recruits smiled as I passed; "hello, ser. Are you
making pilgrimage?" I didn't even know what to say. I remember
what the judge said, after I gave him my name. It meant nothing
to him.
I have closer friends and deeper loves than I have had in four
years, but I don't think I've ever felt less real. [/quote]
#Post#: 256--------------------------------------------------
Re: Caleb's Journal (Age 21-24)
By: Caleb Norwill Date: April 13, 2015, 12:50 pm
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[quote]I have done the unthinkable and consigned another to my
fate. I gathered Marus, the warlock who so foolishly tried to
bind me - Haxwizzle or something equally ridiculous -, and Id.
We stood there in my diapered house gathered around Alvarik's
frozen corpse trying to decide what to do, how to proceed. I
knew we could raise him, and it looked as if we should. But the
question that emerged was whether or not he would emerge from
the process in tact. Id and I were both raised with
imperfections. But Alvarik had been suffocated without decay or
sword. He could have passed for sleeping, he was so well
preserved. But he was dead, and the consequences of that were
now under my purview.
I stood over him and drew the runes, the runes that would hold
him together and give him something to live upon when his
necromancer failed him, as necromancer a are apt to doing. Marus
weaved shadow info him, filling his blood vessels and organs
back up again, as the blood had long gone cold and still. Shadow
would repair him. The warlock pressed fel darkness into his
chest, establishing the bond between necromancer and subject,
something that only true death could break apart. And Id leaned
over him and kissed him, willing him back into existence. The
body shook for a moment, and then went very still. But I could
see the twitching in the fingers. I could see the life we had
made for him and the responsibility that would come from it. But
while he sat there, twitching, Marus jumped.
The trapdoor underneath the stairs had opened.
That's where her things were - that's where I had put all of her
books, all of her things that littered the plague wood. She had
left pieces of herself strewn across Lordaeron in the hopes that
when I killed her - and she knew I would kill her - that they
would be enough for her to return. Her body was burned, of
course. But I took the ashes away too. I took it all. I gathered
them and locked them away; I made myself into her jailor. But
something woke her up, all that was left of her, and the door
slammed open. She was eyes and teeth and anger, and she was
ready to destroy each and everyone of us. Id managed to stop her
- to splatter her across the walls- but I do not think that will
stop her.
She will return and she will find us. I shook and trembled like
a frightened child. Even after she was gone. I dropped my
runeblade. Id turned to me, and told me that she wasn't real,
that she wasn't there, and that I was on the throne. He was a
liar. He was lying to me and I was angry. I pushed him when he
tried to grab me. Marus asked what was going on, and Id
explained it as a game. He assured me through braintalk that it
was not the case, it was not a game, but this was a way to make
it more palatable to the ones on the outside. I played along. I
said that it was a grand game: because I could not remember my
past, I professed that I had invented one in order to make my
life make sense. This was not a lie. But nonetheless, the
priestess saw through me. She shook her head ; "Caleb is not
playful." She was right. I am not playful. Not ever. Because my
life is not a game.
She asked me who I was, and it was Id who answered. She refused
it, she shook her was ; " I reject this identity." And I felt
myself saying though I did not move my mouth: "Even if you
reject it, it will still be me." I was furious because how could
I not be. I was hysterical because I was watching my world fall
apart. Marus would warn Mouse that I was unstable and I would be
treated with institutionalization once again. Or, perhaps more
simple, Mouse would give me to the Ebon Blade and explain what I
had done, and then I would be finally, truly, killed for all the
evil I have done. That would be the more elegant answer. But I
do not want to die. I grabbed at Id and cried and whined at him.
How could I not? My identity was falling into pieces; and the
paradox had showed itself once again. I wanted to be real. I
wanted to be valid. I wanted to rule and be loved too- because I
was king. But I also knew that it was a lie, and that it always
had been.
So I propose this question to you, oh diary of mine; "How does
one reconcile their own understanding of their grand importance
in the world with the crippling belief that they are not real?
These two factors, arrogance and unreality, should not
cohabitate. They should not mingle." But they do. And now the
proof of it is in the world again. Meduna is here. Light save
us. Light save us all. [/quote]
#Post#: 282--------------------------------------------------
Re: Caleb's Journal (Age 21-24)
By: Caleb Norwill Date: April 15, 2015, 1:26 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
[quote] My conspirators have ended their conspiracy before it
really has a chance to begin. I walked in the Catacombs after
attempting to smooth things out with the Argent Crusade, with
mixed success at best. The knight I spoke to - Ser Damask - was
less then enthused with the Silent's performance but agreed that
if a warlock's influence was present it was likely unavoidable.
He is taking my personal letters of apologies to Fording, who
will likely throw them into a fire before even considering
reading them, or even more remotely, forgiving me. I came to the
Catacombs to do the same thing- to attempt to take
responsibility, and in order to calm a panicked and splintering
Silent. The reports from Id and Eveya were less than promising.
But I knew the moment I walked down those steps what I would be
dealing with.
I did not think that they- Alvarik and Ryhek- would actually
wish to kill me, but Marus' fingertalk told me everything I
needed to know. They were conspiring, and sought my rank
stripped from me, and they would not stop there- they wished for
id's head. Marus and I argued against them for a time, but
Alvarik eventually was not able to stand his hunger and leapt
atopt Ryhek, attempting to kill his co-conspirator because he
needed to kill something and I was taking too long. I pulled him
away from Ryhek, and we fought for a time, with me preventing
all blows to my person save for one gash on my leg. I will bear
the scar as a reminder. But after a bit of fighting he changed.
He returned to himself. He became Alvarik again.
And he begged me to kill him. I understood in that moment, I
understood what a terrible mistake that I had made in trying to
make him like me. There are no death Knights like me, and for
good reason. We are unstable and prone to collapse. We do not
have runes to temper our endless hunger, and we have no swords
to sate it. Just because I can exist like this, in an in between
state between being real and not, doesn't mean that anybody else
should live like this especially an old man who does not deserve
this fate. But he asked me to kill, so Marus removed some
residual shadow magic, in order to conserve her strength and
make it all the easier to chop his head off- which is what I
did.
He returned in the form of a beacon of light. I was reminded ,
uneasily of my mentor Nathaneil Roderick, and of the cook,
Merriweather Verric. Both of them haunted the halls of where
they died- and the people they loved. I miss Nathaneil
sometimes. I am sorry that I murdered him. Alvarik told me that
he forgave me - that he forgave us all. I did not need his
forgiveness, but it likely removed any trace of a conspiracy.
Ryhek is alone in hating me, and his voice is quiet. I have
support. And if a schism is to break, I will break the schism
with my own two hands I will not tolerate dissent. It distracts
from what is really important. I cannot afford distraction. I
must succeed.
[/quote]
#Post#: 318--------------------------------------------------
Re: Caleb's Journal (Age 21-24)
By: Caleb Norwill Date: May 2, 2015, 1:49 am
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[quote]Much has happened since the last time I wrote in this
book, and truth be told I have been too busy to write. So Let
this be a record of the feelings I have no, rather than a
recollection of the feelings I had when these events occurred.
At the moment, I write this at the side of a brook that bisects
the forests of Lordaeron. Id is not with me - he is slating his
hunger on the Scarlet Crusaders in the far North. I, on the
other hand, am here in Lordaeron to clear out whatever of my
country men claimed that they could make it out alive and avoid
me. Nobody ever really avoids me. Int he end, they’re always
mine. But I am thankful that I do not have to see Id in this
exact moment because I am ashamed and weak - I look weak and
shamed. I must not be weak and shamed, I cannot be like that.
My hand is shaking on the pen, and that is because only
twenty-four-hours ago, I was dead. Dead, and not buried, but
dead. I watched myself die though, from outside of the
constraints of my body. I watched myself take that fireball to
the chest and fall over. It was amongst the mot terrible
experiences of my life. I am sure it will be brushed off as
being unconscious - as just a momentarily collapse. But no - I
saw myself die. I have died four times now, and every death
brings me a little closer on that Light-forsaken boat without a
bottom. I still have my entries from that book. Let me find
them, and compare them with the current mentality.
[hr]
“I don't have a very good memory, but I remember what the sky
looked like, on the day that I died. It was a bright, clear sky.
The orange trails from an Eastern sunset emblazoned the sky, the
stars were just beginning to peek their feeble light through the
haze. The sunshine had died many hours ago, as the battle raged
around us. My lips were flecked with blood. Somebody was holding
my hand, curling their fingers around my knucklebones in a
gesture that I suspect I should remember. I remember my last
words. I remember pronouncing each syllable, saying each letter
and believing that they had purpose. I remember them closing my
eyes, as I fell into the ocean of sleep. I felt all the
blackness stripped from my skin until only these lines were
left; a framework of somebody who I have long forgotten how to
be. I was dead, and I felt the last breath leave my body,
shuddering out of my chest and sliding away. I remember then,
the realm of the dead and what I saw there. People say that we
can't know what comes after the end. When we die, when we are
gone, we do not know what lies before us. Nobody knows. Not me
or you or anybody in the world. But that's not true. I know what
comes after. I died.
I don't have a very good memory, but I remember I stood in the
centre of the void and the solar radiation from a faraway black
sun cooked my lungs from the inside, the blood boiling around
this volcanic gap where something important was, once. My teeth
will begin to dissolve into latticeworks of carbon and calcium,
my fingernails will turn yellow and curl, before they fall off
into the infinite void like scales off of a fish; flensed beyond
recognition. If I had heart, I'd feel but all I seem capable of
is ice and sea-water.Were there anything there, I would turn
feral and gorge on their hearts. But there was nothing there,
just blackness; and me, opened up for a chaplain's quest to find
the premature source of death. The darkness goes on forever in
all directions, and no amount of blonde hair and blue eyes will
change the fact that you are alone, and you are small, and you
are in the darkness without any light. There's nothing, nothing
but the darkness and eventually, it begins to creep into you as
well; making your fingers turn black from rigor mortis, deprived
of the nails they sought in life. My knucklebones had just begun
to erode when I heard a voice, a voice in the darkness. In the
murklins, I’ve rowed to the center in a ribcage with no heart;
all the bacteria of my gut rising up to sing to me.”
[hr]
That is what death is like, but its also what it is not like.
because I was not writing with clarity there, I will attempt to
shed some clarity on the godless, emptiness of death. When you
die, the paladins and priests always claim that you ill be one
with the Light. This is a lie. There is nothing in the void,
except an endless black void. It is made of dark water and it is
silent and still. There is a boat in the water, and it is i a
boat without a boat, so the black water floods up and chills you
to the bone. In the center of the darkness, is an island with a
single light. You know you need to get to that island, but when
you get there, you know that there is no coming back. And that
is more terrifying to me than anything else. I suppose I should
write about how I ended up there - and then not there. Let me
organize it into two sections: Meduna, and Laetari.
Meduna
My necromancer returned to me as I knew she inevitably would.
She burst out of my basement and I wondered for a solitary
moment how long she had been crawling around down there. She
moved to Death’s Breach to recuperate her health and gather her
allies - illusionary ones of course. But the Breach was where I
had died, so it fueled her. My death has given her power
meaning, and all of her magic was entangled with my death. In
reality, the world beneath the dark cloud had all just been a
giant trap for me. And I, the foolish fish took the bait on the
hook. I had to (humiliatingly) be rescued by the Silent.
They do not know the extent of the damage that she did. She
tortured me. And I knew it was her. Median Crombeck, called
Bronwen Newport, the one who polluted me and killed me all with
a single, simple trick. It was an easy trick, and even easier
for me to swallow - all she had to do was make me believe I was
somebody important. And who doesn’t want to be important? I
wanted to be. And so I was. But I did not know the cost. So when
I sat there in her ritual circle - painted with the blood of the
Argent Crusaders who had come to investigate this spot before me
- she tortured me. I watched every horrible thing that I had
ever done lay infant of me. She needed these memories to
strengthen herself. She told me, by the strength of my belief,
she would become real - and I wouldn’t have to be burdened with
the terrible responsibility anymore.
And some part of me wanted to give up and not be real anymore.
It would be easy. And she had my heart, and I knew that was my
weakness given form and flesh - Yumna and Berthroy tried to take
it away from me, claiming it was powerful - but it was not
powerful. My heart is merely a reminder of somebody who is now
dead and buried. My bones are in the Stormwind graveyard along
with all of the others. But Meduna made me remember, for a
solitary moment, who I was before I went out to sea for the
first time, before that first death. I remembered swearing on
cookies - and then, I lost it again. I remember the words, but
not the meaning. No torture in the world is quite comparable,
with reclaiming every memory you’ve ever had - and then, losing
it, only to remember what you already knew. There’s this strange
sense of longing for something, anything, to fill the gaps. And
so you invent. It makes me do exactly what she expected me to,
and I hate it. I hate it, and I hate her. I’m glad she’s dead.
Id took my heart away. I don’t know what he did with it, and I
don’t care. The only thing that’s important is that the heart is
not destroyed. I know that I will lose something important if it
is destroyed. Maybe I’ll lose my last, human, weakness - but
maybe I’d lose something worse. Something essential to this
entity. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.
Laetari
Laetari, on the other hand, is not my responsibility and I have
made that clear a half dozen times to various people and yet I
still felt the absurd sense of responsibility to chase after her
in the Firelands. I should have refused, and let the others go,
but as always I must have a hand in every action that the Silent
takes. Laetari, for context, was possessed, or so the popular
narrative goes, by the firehawk she raised from egg, and was
attempting to summon the firebird Raganaros. I find this
narrative frustrating for the following reason: possession is
never something that is entirely overwhelming tot he person’s
psyche in my experience. From what I understand, the possessed
person has to want the same thing that their parasite wants, on
some level. I have never seen so perfect an overwhelming, and I
resent Laetari actively for giving into Din. Or I did - and
then, I went to the Firelands.
A few key things happened when we came to the Firelands.
Firstly, after a few encounters with hostile elements, Alvarik
Shieldbreak, in his spectral, ghostly form abandoned us. He has
been acting strangely and I suspect that the spirit is being
corrupted by lingering too long in the mortal world. I will
speak to mars about sending him to his final rest, as the time
is long overdue. He has out-stayed his usefulness, and he
abandoned us when I was bleeding on the ground. He stepped over
me, and that is no way for a spirit of Light to behave. I will
see him gone and exorcised before the month is out, or at least
receive an explanation for this erratic behavior. It is
beginning to compromise the integrity of the Silent’s missions
outside of Stormwind.
As for Laetari herself, when we reached her inner sanctum, she
had a half-dozen hostages that she intended to sacrifice to
awaken Ragnaros - we attempted to rescue them, only for them to
ignite in our hands. All of this smelled and felt too familiar
to me - it felt like I was there again, in the streets of
Stratholme. The screaming was similar, and for a moment I felt a
certain pleasure in it - and then I realized it was my own. The
pain was overwhelming as she battered me into oblivion, until I
felt my spirit slip out of my body, and hover vaguely around
before finding a place to rest in my rune blade. I managed to
summon Glory with my dying hands. But she was gone soon enough.
I can’t feel her anymore. I rode Hierodormu here to Lordaeron,
and he said the same Light-damned phrase to me. Mel andilar
borun miranol. I must remember to ask Yaragosa what that means.
But in any case - I was dead, and Glory was gone. Laetari was
“possessed”, so any punishment I could bestow upon her is
ultimately moot. I cannot take out my anger on her, and that is
more angering than the anger itself. What’s worse - she’s
Mouse’s current interest, after Elinie was pushed to the side.
Thus, if I seek advancement, I can only smile and say how happy
I am to have Laetari back with the Silent and how I hope she has
learned her lesson. I am so tired of forgiving people. I am so
tired of welcoming back people who have done the unthinkable
back into my arms. Why must I forgive the people who kill me?
When Esmond Chasten and Martigan Lighthammer buried the swords
in my lungs, I was forced to apologize to them. I am not going
to apologize to Laetari - I did all of nothing to her. I am
losing my powers. I am becoming decrepit and old, and boring and
I hate the living so horribly much. Id kissed me back to life,
and for it shall suffer greatly. He wanted me to live, but
ultimately, what’s the point of my continued life? I want to
avoid that island. I want to avoid that final death, but every
one s taking me a little closer, and I cannot bear when my foot
finally lands on the shore.
I am scared to die because I know what comes after death. So I
have to smile, and bow to the people who murder me. Death means
nothing, now. Caleb dies, and the world moves on. But it doesn’t
for me. Every death - every death is a reminder for me, of that
damned island in the void. Alvarik Shieldrbreak knows nothing of
death. Laetari knows nothing of death. And I will never be
allowed to make them understand. I am a King in service to a
mouse, and it is uncomfortable for all parties involved. I can
feel the time coming, however, for oaths to be broken, and Kings
to be crowned. Is that vague enough? Or is the threat still
there? I do not want to be unclear, but saying that I can feel
Mouse’s grip ending and I feel mine clambering seems too
threatening. I refuse other leadership. I am in control, even
when I’m not.
A caravan passed me. I’ll attempt to remember this book in the
future. [/quote]
#Post#: 344--------------------------------------------------
Re: Caleb's Journal (Age 21-24)
By: Caleb Norwill Date: May 15, 2015, 5:32 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
CONTENT WARN: Character Death, Mutilation, Sex Mention
[quote]I have not neglected you i have been trying to put all of
my thoughts together but i cannot write down everything i feel
and everything i want to say. I want to say how angry and
frustrated I am, and how I will never, ever, feel anything like
this again but I know that is not true. I have been angry and
frustrated for a large portion of my life, but this frustration
reaches new levels. I thought that things were going to get
better, after I knew that Laetari had been banished from our
order. But that is not the case, and now I have to deal with the
consequences of it, as always. Mouse has lost her mind and I am
here to pick up the few, remaining pieces. I feel guilty passing
judgement on her like that but I honestly do not see another
option and I do not believe there is another choice.
So first came her idea for a council. She wishes to form a
council upon her death, to leave the Silent in capable hands.
There will be myself, Eveya, and two or three other members.
Eveya is officially in control of this council, but she and I
both know that is not the case. She and I both know that I will
take control the moment the council is formed, and that is
exactly what Mouse expected and exactly what she wanted. To deny
me that leadership is ultimately pointless because I will take
it anyway. Nobody listens to Eveya, and a good many people
listen to me. Not because I am always right, but because I make
a choice and I do it, with the consequences of it, and I live
with it. I move things forward and I am a familiar face - which
is more than I can say for Eveya. As I will tell anybody who
asks: in order to be a leader you have to be present. In order
to be worthy of my time: you have to have presence. Mouse is
dangerously slipping into that territory. I know it is her
illness. But a choice presents itself: she can choose to lead
and die or she can choose to be sick and dying and then die.
It’s not really a choice. She can’t lead like this,
and she knows it.
She has given the same speech three or four times, where she
shouts about how she cannot be leader when people question her
every move. I have heard it enough and I am growing very tired
of it. A leader doesn’t shout about being a leader, a
leader just does it. Besides, people question leaders. I
question Darion, I question Mouse, I question Varian. When I was
a paladin, I questioned Uther, I questioned Daenal, I questioned
Nathaniel, I questioned Lucavi. I expect people to question me -
I am a little disturbed when there are no questions. Thus I have
been playing the game of questions with the people of the Silent
- attempting to give them the opportunity for them to voice
their complaints and questions before hand — and then I
respond. I know that this will not rid them of all questions but
it will add a layer of trust to their acquaintance with me. Or
so I hope. I miss Philomene Asteris more and more with every
passing day, but only because I know she could solve the
Silent’s problems without a word. And I know I could do it
too - but I am not as ruthless as Asteris. I wish I was,
sometimes, but I am not.
So she shouted about this council for a time, and said that
Eveya would be acting as the leader. I was angry, of course,
because i have been maintaining order int he Silent since
Mouse’s sickness, and Eveya has done very little, if
anything at all. Marus agreed with me, and i believe that Alefir
did as well - but one cannot be sure about anything Alefir does
or says. I do not trust him, but I wish to put faith in him. He
is capable and that is something I trust more than anything
else. I trust he will listen to me if I ask him to do what I
need him to do. That aside, Marus and I raged and ravaged at
Mouse for a time, while Yumna condescend and belittled with
every word, and while that is to be expected, it hurt more than
I expected it to. I thought we were friends, nearly. But
friendship is quick and brittle - like iron forged too thin. I
was monstrous in thought and word, and Id appeared, feeding off
of that. I let him off the leash - i maybe should have held him
in, but at the time, I saw no reason to. He is not a tail, to be
dragged behind, he is sword, to be swung and to hurt. But I do
not think we did too much damage.
Later we went to Lordaeron, and had sex infront of my
father’s crypt. I stared at the ashes while it happened,
and waited for his ghost to appear, to tell me of my sins. He
never showed up, and I wished very much for him to. Id
didn’t seem to notice my fixation upon his urn, which I
suppose was a good thing. I am glad he did not ask me. After we
were done, I left Lordaeron behind again. The journey was long
and unpleasant, and I miss my horse more than life, more than
anything else in the world. I rode the dragon instead, who was
happy enough to lend me aid. Maybe happy isn’t the word.
Maybe resigned is the better word. Hierodormu spoke to me again,
and I wished to cut the tongue from his mouth, but I
didn’t. I watched Lordaeron get smaller and smaller as I
flew away from it, and I remembered the last time I had left,
drenched in rain water and mud, feeling strong and powerful,
able to break anything I touched. But that wasn’t how I
felt now. I felt… small, and insignificant. I didn’t
mean anything outside of Lordaeron. I returned to Stormwind.
When I arrived in Stormwind, Berthroy - the mage - explained
that he has been possessed by the Viscount - a water elemental.
I have no reason or room to judge him for this - but I will
remain cautious. This situation could cause another Laetari
situation, and if it does, I will cut the elemental from him
myself, and then I will kill him without hesitation. Laetari has
proved to be a constantstant headache, and one that I should
have rid myself of when I had the chance. The Viscount, at the
very least, seems affable and pleasant enough, and shares my
world view in at least some respects. I told Berthroy his secret
was safe with me, and he kindly informed me if he ever troubled
the Silent i could cut off his head myself. I found that very
comforting. I wish all problems were solved so smoothly.
Laetari returned to the Silent, and Mouse has alleviated her
banishment. I was enraged and remain so to the very moment I am
penning this - by the shores that lap up at Menthil Harbor. I
died for this, and yet the popular opinion is that nothing has
happened to me. Because I am standing and acting as I do - I am
fine. I see, Silent. You do not believe that nothing is wrong
with me because unlike Laetari I am not burning cities to the
ground? Or, like Marus - I am not summoning Old Gods from their
deep and endless sleep? Perhaps I should act your definition of
insane. Let me describe exactly what would happen, Silent, if I
acted how I felt:
Ryhek would be dead. Mouse would be dead. I do not know who
would kill them first, for I might ask Marus to do it and she
might respond, or I might ask Id to slay them on behalf of his
king. I would give Laetari to Marus - for her anger rivals
only mine, and Naidra would be mine. I would remove their heads
and feet, and stuff them with bitter herbs and stones, and hurl
them into the ocean so that they would sink. Their torsos would
be tarred and burnt so that they could not return. I thought for
a moment I should add Stratholme Lilies to Nadira’s corpse
— but that would dignify it, and the last thing I want to
do is dignify her. Mouse made her apologize to me, but I have
never heard something as hollow and false in my entire
existence… But I would never enact on any of these violent
thoughts. I take out my anger on smaller things and present a
professional face to the Silent - the truth is not something
they could handle.
Here is a list of the physical symptoms that come with each
death, and what I have noticed this time:
Tooth decay and accelerated decay in general. My fingernails
fell off last night, but i have attempted to replace them by
pushing them into my bloated, bleeding cuticles. My teeth,
especially the molars and premolars have rotted from center out.
I spat one out yesterday. I am missing both of my back molars on
my right side. Hallucinations are becoming more and more of a
problem again. I remember them from my first death, and from the
second, but this third one is perhaps the most unpleasant. I see
Glory in shades of blue grey behind my eyes. A dark shadow
passes between my nose and what I’m looking at, and for a
moment i can feel it breathe on me. Reading is impossible, at
this point. But I can write, still, even if my own handwriting
appears jumbled and backwards. It then, smears off the page as
if waterlogged. The ghosts have returned.
Mouse named me Exarch, and when she did, I could feel the edge
of the crown on my head, the cold metal against soft, long hair.
I could hear faint laughter in the distance - a woman’s
laugh, but it wasn’t mouse, it wasn’t Marus, it
wasn’t Telamira. It was Calia, and nobody will ever know
how much I miss her because I cannot express how much this death
has effected me. When Ryhek refused to kneel before us, I could
feel the edge of the blade against my lung, which aborted both
life and breathing and began the apnea period. When Mouse
severed her fingers - as if that would pay Ryhek’s refusal
and Laetari’s failure - I felt the familiar fingers on my
shoulders, I felt his mouth against my ear, and he whispered
indistinctly to me. I do not recall most of what he said, but I
remember that I didn’t say anything in response, because I
could not let the others know he was in the room with us. But
they couldn’t see him and so I knew it wasn’t real.
Not real for them at least.
Maybe I should let the illusion end. Maybe I should be weak and
crying and dead and miserable and then they will understand the
price I pay for each and every death. The ships are coming in
from a long day of fishing, and I can see a boat without a
bottom coming for me. He stands at the prow, and the dying
sunlight catches his white hair, and I know he is smiling. There
is something rising in my throat and my fingers are shaking on
the page. I am grasping my fingers to try to steady my hand on
the pen. I think Id will come for me soon, and then I can
— I can’t be me for him either. I can’t be
anyone. I am an Exarch of the Silent, who dies and then moves on
with his life because he is not effected by such things. I am
Mouse’s right hand, who approves of all she does without
refusal, without feeling like I am chewing off my own arm to
escape the trap. I am nothing and I am no one, and I am watching
my past sail to me, in a boat without a bottom, and I know that
the end is coming. For me, for Mouse, and for everybody
else.[/quote]
#Post#: 380--------------------------------------------------
Re: Caleb's Journal (Age 21-24)
By: Caleb Norwill Date: May 28, 2015, 11:16 am
---------------------------------------------------------
CONTENT WARN: Sex mention, Caleb talking about rot, judgements
of new members.
[quote]The last time Id and I had sex I showed him my hands
afterwards. He hadn't had the chance to look at them, to really
look at them, they have returned to how they looked in the
Servitors. The nails hang on by disconnected flesh, and dark rot
colours the tips down in a gradient of infection. He kissed each
finger in turn, and slowly the rot began to slip back into the
nail, but not even Id can vanish it for long. It is the curse of
those who die and return. The rot never ever really went away,
it just retreated to something sustainable, and this rot will
too, once mortality has been denied once again. Id looked
concerned, but it's hard for me to tell sometimes. I think his
motives are the most inscrutable of any person that I know.
Eveya, on the hand, is easy to understand and I loathe her for
it. I never knew my mother and I have never needed a mother or
wanted one. I had an older sister who I loved and lamented, but
I get the sense that Eveya wants to be everyone's mother, or at
least wishes to be this overwhelmingly positive matriarch in
everyone's life, but that is not her duty and it's not mine
either. Our council should not mother our new recruits; instead,
we should deliver justice and judgement, as well as gentler
support and encouragement. We cannot be their friends. We have
to be their leaders. My tooth fell from my face infront of
Eveya, and I think she was more distressed she couldn't heal me
than she was about the tooth. Kait managed to stitch it back
into my jaw, but it's a pointless endeavor. The tooth will fall,
and though I am not a fatalist, I know that it is destined to,
along with the two premolars and my index and ring finger's
nails. The last time I was rotting, actively rotting, I only
lost some skin on my torso, throat, and a few vestigial organs.
Now, it feels as if I am losing more.
The last time, she pulled me from the earth. I wonder if Id
would pull me if I died again. I wonder if he would prefer to
give up. I know I might. But that's not what will happen. I need
to be in place, and I need to be the one to lead the Silent
forward. Mouse promised it to me and I will do my best to be
deserving of it. I know I am. But now I have to prove it to the
entirety of the Silent all over again, now that old allies have
died or been otherwise lost. I will attempt to organize the new
recruits that stood out to me in this diary, for the sake of
preserving a record of my own, undistorted by the beliefs of
others.
Kait, a shadow caster, is useful and cheerful, and she sees me
as a natural successor to the Silent's chain of command. On the
other hand, I do not believe she takes anything seriously; and I
question that. I am sure Marus will instruct her as to the
importance of certain aspects of the world. Not everything
deserves or needs a smile and an easy laugh. Vyeria is a Draenei
Mage, with a wilting, shaking voice, that doesn't raise her
voice but quietly condescends from her powerless position. I
have yet to be convinced of her usefulness. Berthroy is a
kindred spirit, possessed but rarely distressed by it, pleasant
but also eager to act. Perhaps I like him so much because he
saved my existence from her. I suspect that's true. Though,
truthfully Berthroy has been with us awhile.
Zindara handles demons on her wrists, and is quiet and curt, but
I have seen her in battle and she is adept at handling those
fel-touched monsters. I would like to believe that she is going
to be a trusted ally - much in the same way I would like to
believe that all warlocks can have their qualities. I have yet
to see this principle in play, truthfully. Ghaoithe strikes me
as not understanding what the Silent is about, and the fact that
we do not care about adventure, we are not a cheap paperback-
like Graymind used to write- we handle the grim and unpleasant,
we are not a triumphant adventure tale. We are in the darkness
of every politician's shadow. Our relics are skulls we take for
trophies, and no more. Eva- some paladin title that I don't
recall or care about - is utterly uninteresting to me. Mostly
because I believe I have heard her open her mouth all of twice.
Zakkuen is an interesting new recruit. He engaged in a ritual
with myself and Aleifr, and I watched spirits dance around us. I
though, for a moment, they would restore me to truth, because I
was inbetween the living and the dead. I could feel myself
breathing - breathing for the first time in three years. But the
truth was already there, plain on my face. The spirits agreed to
help Aleifr and I made them into my enemies by mistake- and
Zakkeun Informed me of their threat. I am not worried about
Zakkeun, nor his spirits in truth. I have ghosts of my own that
will protect me from whatever they do, and as the rot continues
they whisper every more urgently to me, in distinct and distant.
I wonder if they are asking me to turn back, like I once
imagined. Maybe one of them is Elsiere.
I haven't thought about Elsiere in two years, and I haven't seen
her since Martigan's funeral, where everything fell apart in my
hands and I watched her walk away from me and I knew she would
not return. I saw Emmery and Elisere and I even saw Belethial-
but their faces were different than I remembered. They had all
ages and I had stayed exactly the same. But I watched Asteris
make the break, and I knew then I would never see my children
again. Martigan and Maria. They would be three now, if they
lived. Elsiere told me that Maria got something warlike from her
father, and perhaps would be trained to be a paladin. She has
likely been baptized, and in four years will be dedicated. I
miss them, sometimes, but I think what I miss more is the idea
of family. I miss having a family , my family.
But I killed my father, and the kin-killer is accursed in the
eyes of the Light. My sister fled, my brother fled, my mother is
dead, my would-be-wife and her children are lost, quel'dalah I
must refuse, and my brothers are scattered across the Eastern
Kingdoms and some of them are dead. I have Id now, Id and
darkness and that is a comfortable state for me to be in. I can
accept that. I will never be a father to the Silent, and I will
never marry Id. Those are mortal things, and I will never have
them and never want them.
My children are a winning point in a trivial game, my former
families are a triumph over others to remind them of one,
crucial fact: they don't know me at all. [/quote]
#Post#: 398--------------------------------------------------
Re: Caleb's Journal (Age 21-24)
By: Caleb Norwill Date: June 5, 2015, 2:56 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Content Warn: Violence, Implied Dismemberment
[quote]There is much to write for much has happened in a short
period of time: but I think I shall begin with a reintroduction
of Oliver MacGlynn into my existence. Oliver MacGlynn is unique
in a way many others are not : I simultaneously loathe and
respect him. I suppose that is not as uncommon as I might think,
but it singular in my feelings towards MacGlynn. Lady Marshall
Cyrell Lucavi I only loathe, Lady Marshall Philomene Asteris I
only respect. Perhaps I should loathe but respect those like
Ryhek, who have demonstrable skill but a personality that is too
petulant to be around, or anomalies like Yaragosa who hates all
mortals but is a member of the Dragonflight. Truly, I couldn't
say what my feelings at e about her. I do not think I have any
strong ones. But this was about MacGlynn, not about people I may
or not loathe or respect.
MacGlynn lived in Corins Crossing, one of the communities in
central Lordaeron. He's never told me but I always imagined that
he died there, and I imagine that I know that too. When he
greeted me, it was with plenty of sarcastic and over enthused
your majesties and titles of nobility ; but I know he was trying
to just be light and friendly in the way that MacGlynn is light
and friendly -- mocking and kind all at once. It was cruel
though, this lightness and friendliness and we both knew it. The
conversation had this time of vague humor, but all with a small
threat, and a small hatred beneath it, which makes the loathing
and the respect all the more complicated. Id appeared in public
for the first time in a very long while to meet MacGlynn. Id
told me he liked him. I'm unsurprised. I think there is a
strange mastery he has over other death Knights: a certain dumb
charisma that attracts the others and makes them cling to him
like maggots to flesh. I am not a death knight. I do not
experience the same feeling of obligation to MacGlynn, but I
judge him as a cautious equal: something else that was meant to
have the control of others. But he doesn't wish it. And I know
that.
I asked him about building houses mainly because I am
considering rebuilding my house in the plaguelands. Last time I
went to the plaguelands , a small contingent of Argents stood at
the wreckage of my house, and were combing through the rubble,
looking for what had caused the collapse. A harsh faced young
woman with cold eyes asked me if this was an intentional
declaration of ill-will. "By the grace of our Highlord, the
Crusade provided you with a blessed land to live out your final
days in comfort- and you have ruined this? Why, Ser Oathbreaker?
Has the Crusade been anything but hospitable and understanding,
despite the terrors and the damned that you have bright down
upon our gentle brow?" I didn't have much to say in response,
and merely told her that prior to the events in Death's Breach
the house had collapsed. The crusaders dispersed soon after, and
I looked at the remnants of the house. I picked up a bit of
wood, and held the point of it to my palm until I drew blood.
I have had much of my blood drawn lately. In the past two days,
I have been shot at three times. Once, in the foot by a radical
- who disapproved of my curse. Strangely, it was not the undeath
she took issue with. I have not had to deal with anger towards
my worgen curse since I was much younger, and I was surprised by
it. Nonetheless, I did not care. If only she knew that I too had
hunted worgen, setting their caves on fire and grinding their
false idols into the ground. I have fought worgen, and I have
set their hides to burning and strung their corpses above their
hunting grounds. I killed many worgen, and I had a man pay my
bloodprice for me to their packs so I would no longer be hunted;
he severed his arm and fed it to the beasts so I would not lose
my sword arm and all the potential that went along with it. I
cannot believe I remember this. I cannot believe there is any
recollection of this left.
Then I was shot three times saving Cogs from some goblins. I
didn't hit a single one. I am growing old and decayed. That is
the only explanation. I need an opportunity to have strength
again- a chance to show the quality of my leadership; not one
founded on empty promises. Cogs made a backup of himself or some
such thing which we discovered and aided. His memory was
removed, and this is not something I could recover with a
mentalist's help. He's too much of a machine and not enough of a
man for that. I could not express how glad I was to see him,
nonetheless. He does not remember our friendship and I cannot
help but wonder if this is how Belethial felt when I could not
remember her after my death. Death is traumatic. It wipes the
slate clean. But I remembered her in time, and maybe Cogs will
remember me. We need to gain his trust, so we can access his
laboratory and regain his memories. I'll spend time with him.
Whatever it takes.
I mentioned Id before, briefly. He came to me and confessed to
me that Elinie had pursued him after she and I had discussed the
nature of our relationship. She has dogged him and he did not
answer. But she knows now, the truth of who I really am and that
is not a truth I am willing to bear at this juncture. Id calls
her harmless and i disagree. Her powers have started returning
to her, including her mentalist abilities. When she healed me
last night I could feel her pressing against the boundary of my
mind, trying to push it open: whether intentional or not. I told
her it would never happen. She will never walk in my mind, as Id
has, as Berthroy unfortunately has, as I suspect Marus will.
She could not bear it, and I do not want her.
Eveya was declared Matriarch, Mouse is Sila again, and I am
still Exarch, though Mouse declared me a High Exarch which I
suspect was more in an effort to appease my vanity than it was
to truly make a statement. Ryhek has been stripped of rank- and
is missing. He won't be dead, though. Too much to hope for. The
list of candidates for the council of Exarchs is growing very
small indeed. Myself is obvious, Eveya is obvious, Marus is
obvious ; nobody else is. Amongst the new recruits the amount of
potential is minimal at best. I, personally, am considering my
options. I will outlive the Silent, I know that, but I must
choose when and how it happens. Depending on Mouse's death,
depending on Eveya's role following it, my place amongst the
Silent may change. I could go out to sea again and drown beneath
the waves. I could let the coral blossom in my residual organs.
But I won't go out to sea again. I know that, but I could.
If I left Id, he wouldn't bear it, and while the fate of all
else is in the hands of those who push me away, Id's fate is
mine. I will outlive the Silent but I will not outlive Id - if
anything, he will outlive me. He is better made.[/quote]
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