3. Journal of Caelian Thunderhawke

Journal of Caelian Thunderhawke


  • The writing in this dark brown leatherbound book is in an ink with a greenish tint to it, perhaps created by certain leaves and berries being ground together and dampened. It has nothing on the front, except what seems to be like random scratches from talons of some kind.


  • _Jerrick was right, all I needed to do was talk to Eli calmly. I told her what I felt, how I believe a relationship should be treated. I asked her why all of this happened. She just told me that at the time, she had different views of the situation… but after speaking with Thorn and myself, she knows better. She feels ashamed.

    I don't want her to feel bad.

    We worked it all out, made up, and headed back to the gate. It was rather quiet, other than a quick playful sparring match between Vash and Dana (Who was in bearform at the time.) It may not have started so playful, with a lot of growling and anger being shown. I stepped up, for the first time in I don't know when, and told them, as a member of the Circle, that we are all family, and if they are to spar then do it and be done with it. There was to be no hard feelings afterward. They actually listened to me. That felt good.

    Vash hits like an Oak, and made rather short work of BearDana. After smiling and picking her up, he insisted she get healed up. This made me happy to see. We have enough godsbedamned fighting to deal with, our family needs to work on sticking together.

    I challenged Vash to a sparring match. I was expecting to get knocked cold.

    It was a very close fight. He hits much harder than I thought, and I think that I was harder to hit than he expected. In the end, I was able to take him down... but hells, I could barely stand afterward. If he had gotten just one more hit in, my ass would have been on the ground.

    Eli was watching the whole thing, and made me go to the healers with her at my side. I love when she takes care of me.

    After getting all healed up by the healer's abilities, and a short run into Master Z we decided to head back to the gate.

    That's when I ran into him.

    A man with short dark hair... and one eye missing. Apparently he saw my fight, or something, but he made it a point to run into me. Asked what I do. I told him that I am a hunter and a protector, Warden of the Rawlinswood. He scoffed, and said that nothing that is weak enough to be protected should be allowed to live. He called himself a hunter. I knew almost immediately what he was... but I let the conversation continue. I need to quit jumping to conclusions, after all.

    Eli grabbed my hand, and whispered not to do anything. I squeezed tightly, and nodded. Letting her know that I wouldn't do anything stupid, and that I was just talking to him. He said I should go on the "Great Hunt" with him, and then I could be a true hunter. I explained to him I had already been on a Great Hunt... hunting his brethren when they attempted to hunt and kill an innocent gnome in my woods. He seemed a bit shocked about this, but just kept speaking.

    Honestly, I can't remember much of the rest of what he said... my adrenaline was pumping, but I was staying calm with my fiance by my side. Without warning, he leaped at me, and began to claw at my face.

    That was all I needed.

    My fists came smashing down into his face. He clawed at my eye, damn near took it out, and I followed through with a shot to the kidneys, bending him over... and sending a hard right to his jaw. This went on for a couple minutes, him clawing, and me blocking and punching... until finally he lunged forward just a little too much, and I caught him with a strong right uppercut underneath his jaw, which sent him on his back.

    I took a deep breath. I could barely stand again, and damn was I tired. But I wouldn't let the Malarite see that.

    After Eli dragged him off to jail, I leaned against the wall of the crafthall and spit some blood. I remembered the old Malarite hunter who said that Malar made him stronger than me... apparently, that just wasn't true.

    I went to the jail and spoke with the man afterward. He actually seemed somewhat receptive to hear what I had to say. I told him that protecting someone does not make you weak. It makes you stronger. Not only do you rely on your own natural abilities, but you push yourself even harder when you know someone else is relying on you.

    I told him, if he was ever sick of just feeding on blood and hatred, that he should find me.

    To be honest... I think there's a good chance he will._


  • _Why?

    The harder I try, the more I find myself put in situations that I don’t understand, or cannot control. I’m trying as best I can to be a Warden of the lands, to protect those that I care about, but I guess no matter how hard I try, one thing is true no matter how strong my shield is, or how sturdy my scale:

    You simply cannot protect yourself against the ones you love.

    Love is bringing someone inside your defenses, lowering the wall so that you can attempt to share yourself with someone that you trust to not take advantage of your hospitality. The moment you put the wall up to that person, the love is not there any longer. You are unable to love through a wall of insecurity and protection.

    What’s even worse is the damage that loved ones can cause.

    When you love someone, they know everything about you. Every one of your secrets… every strength and every weakness. They know exactly how to build you up, or to break you down. They can carry you across the river, or cut your legs out from under you and leave you to drown.
    Why do I bring weakness upon myself?

    I’ve been trying my best to learn from my weaknesses, to learn from painful experiences. If I am cut down from using a particular tactic when fighting, I’m sure not to use that tactic in that situation again.

    But what if I don’t –want- to learn from this?

    What if the act of prevention is worse than the painful experience?

    I don’t want another wall to be built in the same place that I tore one down just a few years before. But I guess right now it’s not up to me. It’s up to her.

    Godsbedamned, I hate waiting and relying on others._


  • _I’m an idiot.

    I’ve been worried about unleashing myself, letting my inner beast run wild. That is just as bad, even worse than being a domesticated hound. A feral wolf is no good to anyone. It bites the hand that feeds, and turns on its own pack. That’s not what I want to become. That wouldn’t make my mother or father proud of me when they look down on me from above. Nor would it make me any closer with Eli, my children, or any of my brothers and sisters.

    The Malarite was wrong. Yes, I hold myself back. That doesn’t make me weak. Controlling myself doesn’t make me a domesticated hound. He’s the hound. He’s a feral beast that is held by a collar. Malar has done nothing but keep him in a dark room, feeding him nothing but blood and hatred. He knows not what he hunts for, other than the passion of taking a life. And that is not the mind of a hunter. That’s the mind of a murderer.
    A true wolf does hold back. He controls himself. He doesn’t let another control him, or his actions. He must stay within the pack, listening to the packleader, and protecting his packmates. But he doesn’t do this because he is being controlled… he does this out of love, out of respect. But when the time for the hunt –does- come, that is when he decides to unleash himself, and feel the rush of the hunt. When thinking on this, the Malarite is both right and wrong.

    He is right in stating that a true hunter is not controlled by anyone but himself.

    He is wrong in that the true hunter is also not a wild beast that kills for the sake of killing.

    I am controlled by nobody but myself. I listen to my packleader out of respect, and I protect my packmates and family with my life. I am –not- a feral beast.

    I am a wolf.

    I will show the Malarites, that they are not the only ones that can hunt with such a passion. Show them that Mielikkians can be the scariest fucking thing in these lands when the things they care about are threatened. If another person threatens my family, my lands, or myself… I swear to Mielikki, I will defend them with a passion that would make a Malarite proud.

    Eli was hurt recently. In the mind. She kept calling herself Taena, unless I was around. I refused to call her anything but Eli, and she played along, though she looked very confused. I have an idea of what or what is causing this, and I damn near acted on it immediately. Jerrick was thankfully able to calm me down. Ever since I lost my dad, I’ve felt like Jerrick was a father to me. He trained me, taught me everything I know. The man I am today is thanks to my mother, my father, Jerrick, and Eli. My mother taught me to respect my goddess… my father taught me to respect nature… Jerrick taught me to respect others… and Eli taught me to respect myself. I can never thank these four enough for what they have done.

    Time to work on my tactics… I want that next rank in the Wolves. I’m gonna channel my damned anger into something constructive, for once._


  • _I’ve had a lot on my mind… Eli says it may be helpful to write it all down. Sometimes easier to deal with shite when you can look at it on a page, I guess. I –hate- writing. I never write reports… I never had a journal before. I guess I just feel there are much better things to do with your hands.

    But I need to get it out. Pour into this godsbedamned book. That way, if I ever lose it and go insane, at least someone can find this and say, “Oh… no farkin’ wonder.”

    I make stupid mistakes.

    I don’t know if I have a deathwish, or if I just like to think of myself as invincible, but time after time, I find myself running into a fight that I know I can’t win. I had always learned that “What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.” That’s all fine and good for a fist fight… or a breakdown. You learn from your pain.

    But what happens when it does kill you?
    Am I getting stronger? Or weaker?

    So many times I have found myself in limbo, waiting for my soul to make up its mind. Will I go home again? Or have I pushed my luck too far?
    During these few moments of waiting, which feel like lifetimes in and of themselves, the visions of how I died flash through my mind:

    Two shortswords through the lungs.
    A fell troll’s hand, burning into my chest.
    Lightning from the arms of an unknown caster, boiling my blood and searing my mouth shut.
    Head being caved in by a mace, Morningstar, or greatclub.
    Many more that I can’t even be bothered to remember.

    Why do I never learn? What keeps my legs running into these problems, when my mind knows better by now? I have a fiancé and children now. Eli, Eva, Tah, and Lala. What would they do without me? If I lost any of them, I’d be devastated. I can’t even stomach the thought of the things I would do.

    How long until Mielikki is tired of me?

    She came to me once. She told me to have heart, and keep strong, as I would be needed by her and my friends. She tells me that she knows of my wavering faith. She knows that my faith in my goddess is not wavering, but the faith in myself. How long until she just gives up and finds another faithful? One with stronger ideals, like Jerrick. Sometimes I worry I'm not even carrying myself correctly for the Lady of the Woods.

    I feel like a failure. I’m not strong enough to protect those I love. I’m not even strong enough to protect myself. I realized this, standing in the fugue last night.

    I had made yet another stupid mistake. I wanted to prove to myself that I was strong. That I am Tough. Not only prove to myself… but to everyone else as well. To prove it to Eli, to Jerrick, hell, even to Brendel and Ras and the rest of the Wolves. I went out, south of Norwick in the Rawlinswood. I went alone. I went at night. I wore no armor, and no shield, just bare skin and a scimitar in each hand. So many stupid decisions… but why did I make them?

    I’m an animal.

    I’ve always been an animal.

    I was called an animal long ago, by those who didn’t understand me. I loved it. I embraced it. The primal instincts of the wolf, the bear, and the hawk. I wanted to prove to myself that I was an animal. That I didn’t –need- the armor, and the shield. That I was the most dangerous thing in the Rawlinswood that night.

    That’s what I wanted. (This line is scratched out and underneath is written:)
    That’s what I NEEDED.

    All that I had proven was that I could get ambushed, and surrounded by greenskins, pounding my head in.

    This time, I sat in the fugue… and I felt weak. Weaker than I had felt in years. Then I remembered him.

    “You’re a fool, Mielikkian. You’ll never be a true hunter. Never be able to protect yourself, let alone your loved ones. You hold yourself back, and until you learn to unleash it all… you’re weak.”

    The Malarite. The one from 10 years ago. He hunted me, captured me, captured Eli… jus to show me he could. He broke in and out of jail, while I was imprisoned… just to show me it was possible. He said that man has no right to anything in this world unless he can take it for himself, and keep it from being taken from him. He told me that I was right. I –am- an animal. But as I am, I am no more than a domesticated hound, or a trained hawk. He said that I had the eyes and abilities of a hunter, but not the mindset. He told me that I would never be as strong as he was unless I learned to embrace the hunt, and follow nobody’s rules but Malar’s.

    For the first time since his words echoed through my ears ten years ago… sitting in limbo…

    I started to worry that maybe he was right.
    (The last line is written more jagged, as if the author's hand was shaking.)_