3. Tacticum Vita

Tacticum Vita


  • Entry 37 - War

    _You can no more win a war than you can win an earthquake.

    • Jeannette Rankin_

    Just as I begin my holy quest for the Red Knight, to win a holy war for a distant nation, war comes to my home nation of Narfell. Norwick has fallen to the bugbears and their allies, led by the bugbear king Ostromog. Hundreds have died, and hundreds more will die before this is finished, and as I think of how it has started and is proceeding, I admit it worries me.

    Grag has asked me to become his Advisor, to organise the strategic plans and tactics for the Legion during this war, and I have accepted. Lady Daisy has made me a Knight of the Order of the Divine Shield, and so now I have many different hats to wear, many different roles to consider. The combination is keeping me rushed off my feet, I fear that by the time the war is over Bill will have forgotten what I look like.

    There are several groups working to free Norwick, but whilst all seem to be willing to work together, I fear that it may end up being a situation of too many officers, not enough grunts. There is the Norwick Remnant, led by Havon. The Shesae, led by Ama. The Legion, led by Grag. The Peltarch Defenders, led by the General. The Dwarven Hold Remnants, and I'm not sure who leads them. The Silver Valley Dragoons, led by Junior. And then you have the different adventurers who are involved without any ties to a group.

    Aelthas has offered the use of the Gypsy lands in the pass, and has called a meeting to discuss the plans for their defense. Tomorrow I will attend that meeting on behalf of the Legion, to see what we can do. Afterwards there will be a meeting that I have called at the Legion Tower, to discuss the offence, of what is to be done, and who will be best placed and equipped for each role.

    Beyond these things, I do not know what will happen. I'm still waiting on reports from my scouts, and we do not know what the bugbears intend, beyond holding the town and trading with Oscura. We do know that many civilians who have been captured are being put to work, some treated better than others. We also know that Marty's duplicate, the Gardener of Death, has cultivated several fields of poisonous and noxious plants, and that working those fields is leading to a lot of sickness and death.

    I've never taken such a direct hand in a war before, and it is tiring as well as worrying. I am constantly double guessing myself, checking every decision I make to ensure that it is the wisest choice, that there is nothing I have not foreseen about its possible outcomes. Sometimes I think it would be good to pass such a duty on to another, and then I remember, that there is no other, and that my Lady would have me here and now.

    Perhaps this is the test she's been preparing me for, for my entire life.


  • ~Untitled~

    _However many holy words you read, however many you speak, what good will they do you if you do not act on upon them?

    • Buddha_

    This day, I begin another quest for my goddess, the Lady of the Lanceboard.

    This day, I set aside what remained of my old life, to embrace the new.

    This day is the day I have prepared for, trained for, scrimped and saved for.

    This day, I begin the fight to save a people who have set themselves asides for my Lady.

    Whether by my life or my death I can serve her, I shall.

    We cannot fail; to do so is unthinkable.


  • _The red haired woman stepped boldly through the darkness, stalwart companions just behind her and to her left and right. They had come a long way; she, the devotee of the Red Knight, Celia the Priestess of Torm and Taniko of House Ishikawa, and the red haired woman seemed to know that they were not far from the surface.

    They had begun in the Norwick Crypts, home to a thousand undead forms, and cleared it easily. Onwards and downwards, they passed through the level controlled by Fendon, then onto the old abandoned Svirfneblin city and the equally abandoned Illithid Mines. All was quiet, asides from a scattering of goblins slaves who were hiding after escaping from their bugbear masters.

    Climbing the great stair had taken its toll on their energy, but she knew how to keep a unit moving and had sung a marching rhythm to keep up spirits. And now, they had fought their way through the Formians who kept creeping up to try and attack them, hoping to drag them off to become food for the nest.

    Casting her steady gaze this way and that, the red haired woman motioned for the others to follow her, then suddenly, a flash of movement!

    Quaggoths!

    A hunting party had left the solitude of Arnath, and set out to look for prey. The only question now, was who would be the hunter, and who would be the hunted?_


  • Entry 36 - The Goddesses Gift

    _God, who foresaw your tribulation, has specially armed you to go through it, not without pain but without stain.

    • C.S. Lewis_

    It is done.

    Tonight my son Bill, sleeps the sleep of the healthy. And it is all by the gift of the Red Knight, she who loved me enough to call me from Tempus and reveal my true purpose to me.

    I have recorded what happened, so that when Bill is older, he will know the truth regardless of whether I am still around or not. Some details I have omitted out of a concern for his safety and the safety of those involved, but I have no doubt that if he needs to know more, he will find it.

    Tonight I pray to the Red Knight, thanking her for her loving kindness, and for the many gifts she has bestowed on me; for trustworthy allies, for good health, for insight, for wealth and prosperity. But most of all, for family.

    I am not alone, and I will never need to stand alone against the darkness again.


  • _The red haired women beheld the wonderful amulet as her adopted son slept, watching him as he was at peace. That such a simple thing could have so powerful an effect truly awed her, and she knew now that she would forever be indebted to her goddess. There was nothing she could do that could ever repay this gift, nothing.

    The costs, the pain, the hardship, all paled into insignificance before this one fact; her son would grow up strong, and know a normal life. For that, she would give all that she has, and more… everything for the Red Knight._


  • Entry 35 - The Rules of Engagement

    _He who is prudent and lies in wait for an enemy who is not, will be victorious.

    • Sun Tzu_

    I have seen combat in most of the realms of this continent, and I have killed more than my share of foes who sought to do the same to me. Kill or be killed is no true measure of success, although it can be a part of it. Rather, success is determined by what you set out to do, and the methods you use to achieve it.

    To that end, I thought it wise to record some of my Rules of Engagement. Perhaps in the future they will aid whoever reads this, and I pray that the Red Knight will use my writings to that end at some point.

    Overall Rules
    1. Never set out without a concrete plan of what you wish to achieve. Make sure you have a backup plan, and an escape plan in case things go poorly. Those who fail to plan, plan to fail.
    2. If you do not know what lies in wait for you, find out before you engage in combat. Forewarned is forearmed.
    3. Ensure that all who are allied with you know their part in what is to happen, and that they have the resources to complete their role. If they do not, then they either should be reassigned, or retreat.
    4. There must be a clear chain of command so that all know who to look to in the event that the leader becomes a casualty. This ensures the greatest chance of survival for all.
    5. Retreat is not failure. Retreat is making a tactical decision to conserve resources, rather than wasting them futilely.

    Combat Rules
    1. When combat cannot be avoided, it is to be completed as quickly as possible. Extending a combat any longer than necessary simply gives the enemy more time to work out what your strengths and weaknesses are, and to exploit that knowledge.
    2. When engaging your enemy, it is to be done by the most efficient and morally upright method. Poison is not to be used, nor are non-combatants to be harmed deliberately or used as a resource.
    3. Engage your enemy in such a manner that his weaknesses are exploited, and your own strengths evident. This is not immoral, it is simply good sense. Tripping your opponent, holding him in place with magic, or striking his limbs to weaken him are all valid tactics.
    4. If a defeated enemy asks for quarter, give it to him. If he later proves deceitful, then he has earnt a swift, merciful death. Note that this does not mean you should be stupid, an enemy who is incapable of redemption should receive no quarter. Specifically, this refers to evil outsiders and undead.
    5. Submission is preferable to death, unless your submission would cause the mission to fail, or sensitive information to be disclosed. The body can endure all manner of hardships, and every man that is employed to keep you prisoner is one less that can face your allies.

    Non-combat Rules
    1. No one person can be an expert in all fields. A commander must listen to his subordinates, and accept their advice when it is warranted.
    2. Likewise, a subordinate must accept the orders of his commander without question while in the field, unless they believe that the commanders orders will undoubtably lead to defeat.
    3. In that circumstance, he is permitted to voice his concerns to his superior with respect and ensuring privacy. If his superior ignores his concerns, then he must speak with the two next most superior officers, and if they agree with his analysis of the situation, they together approach the superior officer. Should he still ignore their concerns, he is to be removed from his position and the next most superior officer is to take command.
    4. There is to be no negotiation with the enemy in the field, regardless of the cost. All combatants are aware of the risks associated with taking part in a mission, and by setting out they are signifying that they accept those risks. Non-combatants may not be what they seem, and by equipping the enemy or allowing them to escape you further their evil.
    5. On a mission, everything that is done is about the objective. If it does not advance the objective, then it is surplus to requirements and can be put to the side.


  • Entry 34 - The Art of Creation

    _Art is magic… But how is it magic? In its metaphysical development? Or does some final transformation culminate in a magic reality? In truth, the latter is impossible without the former. If creation is not magic, the outcome cannot be magic.

    • Hans Hofmann_

    Sometimes I am asked how it is that a musician can create magic with their notes or words. My normal reply, is that there's some music in my magic, and some magic in my music… those who have heard me perform or seen me battle would know the truth of that.

    But there is something more than that to being a minstrel, a bard, a skald... it is that we strive to change the world around us through the gifts that we have. Not just the lives of the great, but the lives of the small as well. An evil bard may use their music to ensnare the minds of the weak and thus create a position of power for themselves, a good bard may use their music to embolden the poor to strive for greatness, but always a bard is an agent of change.

    Do not mistake my words for thinking that I accept the path of the evil minstrel. I find it abhorrent, abominable that anyone would take advantage of a position of power to exploit others. I am not, however, naiive enough to believe that it does not happen. Nor am I narrow minded enough to say that the evil bard does not create change, even if it is for the worse.

    Thus it is that the true art of the bard, is the art of creation. For to change anything, is to create something new and different. The disciplines we have are many and varied; stringed instruments, brass instruments, wind instruments, percussion, singing, story telling, oratory, drama, painting, sculpture, the list goes on and on. Yet they are all part of the art of creation. From the creation of a piece of music, to the creation of mood and the inspiration of the individual listening to the music, a bards art is the ultimate expression of creation.

    I have sought throughout my life to create as much as is possible, to leave the realms a brighter place for having been alive. Weapons, armour, shields, helms... they may be items of warfare, but they can also be items of beauty. Thus, I make them and equip others, allowing them to change the world around them. Songs, poetry, music pieces, I write them and perform them for others, inspiring their moods and encouraging them on to greater deeds. Tomes of lore and history, I record them that the past will not be forgotten and I write them in a way that is palatable for even the novice historian.

    Foremost in all of these things, is the creation of the magical item. For I have found that it is in these things that my song will become eternal. Each ring, sword, belt, or amulet I create is empowered with a portion of my soul, my song rings through them. Even when I am gone, my flesh and bones turned to dust, these talismans and artifacts will remain. Thus I will inspire future generations on to greatness.

    Even though I love the law, I love the change that brings about the light, pushing back the darkness. My art will ensure that both of these things will be upheld long after I go to my eternal rest.

    The art of creation is the ultimate expression of what it is to be a bard, and through this we find eternity.


  • _Another week, another trip. She had to regain what was lost, she had to ensure that her strength returned to her. Slowly but surely she was gaining her edge again, honing her skills at arms to become more than she was.

    Something was different this time… she had a new found confidence in her abilities. Whether it was the trust engendered in her by her companions; the mighty Shallyah or the effervescent Rith, she knew that she could face most opponents without hesitation now. New magics, new tactics, these things had come to her with prayer and introspection.

    This trip though, saw something different for her. A part of the massive sprawling cave system beneath Narfells soil that she had never explored. A massive cavern, big enough to swallow most of Norwick whole. Populated by the small spiny aberrations most refer to as Magic Eaters and their trainers, the frog-like monstrous humanoids whose skin dances as they move, it was dangerous, but not beyond her skill.

    Pushing deeper and deeper still, eventually the cavern narrowed and ended in a gate, guarded by a pair of Drow. They fell easily, but neither of them had a key for the gate, and it was warded against passage.

    What lies beyond that gate? The red haired woman could only guess, but she knew that one day she would find out... every boundary had to be pushed, every limit tested. She had to become all she could be._


  • Entry 33 - A Setback

    _Why do we fall? So we might learn to pick ourselves up.

    • Alfred, in Batman Begins_

    Six months in a coma, eventually passing from the living to the dead, only so that Shallyah could bring me back again. My Faith Sister checked on me daily, fed me, gave me water, cleaned the sheets… she did what she could for me and I am grateful.

    I have learnt much from what happened. I need to be smarter in terms of my magics, I need to train my body to take hits better. I need to find ways to dodge attacks no matter the circumstances. I'm going to search my song for new magics to use, and discard the old ones that have so rarely helped me.

    I need to become the Tactician.


  • _The red haired woman moves about the Peltarch docks, enquiring here and there for a ship. Most reply with curiosity and a no, but she moves on and continues searching anyway. A hundred ships, and a hundred captains, she wanders to and fro looking for the one that her Lady will have prepared for her.

    When she mentions her destination most shake their head immediately, and those who do know the location do so even more firmly. Rumours reach her ears of violence, of racism, and of weapons bared in the night. Still, she searches.

    For her son, it is worth the cost._


  • Entry 32 - Doing the Impossible

    _Because a thing seems difficult for you, do not think it impossible for anyone to accomplish.

    • Marcus Aurelius_

    Much I have accomplished in my life I would have said was difficult, or at worst nigh improbable to complete. But this tenday I have done what I thought was impossible, by the strength of my faith and my trust in my Faith-Sister.

    Shallyah and I have been training as much as is possible with our different commitments. She is now a recruit for the Peltarch Defenders, and I am splitting my time between the Senate and the Order of the Divine Shield, as well as the troubles in Norwick. We know that we can face Skindancers and Magic Eaters together without fear, as long as we are wise and use tactics to do so. And we can now add another accomplishment to our list; we cleared the Cold Caves, from top to bottom, something I would have said was impossible for just the two of us.

    We started poorly, against an Ogre Shaman. He dispelled many magics we had running, and left both Shallyah and I bleeding badly, but we persevered and with fight after fight, our confidence grew. Eventually we reached the bottom level, where I found my first vein of gold to mine, and we were able to clear their temple and loot their shrine. Now, Shallyah has an amulet to protect her from cold, just as she had one to protect her from fire.

    Having completed this, it has proven for me that the Red Knight is with us, she blesses our partnership and she is working within both of us to make us strong together. As time goes on, we will complete more impossible tasks, and when we are dead and long gone, our exploits will be spoken of with awe.

    The Red Knight be honoured by our deeds and thoughts.


  • Entry 31 - Children

    _Of all nature's gifts to the human race, what is sweeter to a man than his children?

    • Marcus Tullius Cicero_

    I have no husband, truly, I haven't thought of finding a partner in decades. And yet, some things are embedded deep in my heart. One of those is the love of children, and now I have my own to care for. I only hope I can prove Moonie right, for she said that I would make a good mother some day.

    Havon has decided in his infinite wisdom, that the dead sun god Amaunator should be restored to life. To that end he has employed the town criers of Norwick to go about praising Amaunator, in the hopes of converting people to his worship and thus resurrect him. The smallest of those was a young homeless boy named Bill. His parents died years ago, and he was living between a stone and a cliff.

    Ten days ago, he was at the South Gate, praising Amaunator when he was struck down by lightning. Shallyah paid for his resurrection, but his little body and mind were affected by his death, for his spirit was too young to take such a burden without being harmed. Now, he has a limp and a speech impediment, his eyes are hollow and he seems to almost have one foot in the afterlife.

    When I saw him at work, I knew I had to do something, I couldn't let him live like that. Cecil, Ardent and I followed him to his "home" where he told us that he was alone and homeless. Cecil and Ardent didn't seem to know what to do for him, but I did.

    Putting him on my shoulders, Bill travelled north with Cecil and I, back to the College. As I write, Bill is curled up asleep in the spare bedroom off my room. He and Waddles (my penguin) seem to get along well, the two of them played together for half an hour after Waddles watched him curiously, trying to work out what to do with him.

    If Bill settles in here and he's happy, I'm going to ask him if he wants me to be his new Mother. I'll adopt him, and give him my family name. I'll give him every opportunity I can. But more than that.

    The Lady of the Lanceboard has given me two blessings, firstly, the blessing of a child, even if he is not of my own body. Secondly, she spoke to me, and she has told me that somewhere there is a talisman that can undo the damage done to Bill, so that he can grow up without his impediments. Now, it is a matter of faith for me to locate and recover this amulet, so that he can be whole. Cecil has sworn to aid me, and I know that others will as well.

    The first time that the Lady has spoken to me… and not because of prowess in battle, or skill in strategy. But because of the love of an innocent child who had no-one to love him.


  • _The red haired woman found herself walking the streets of Peltarch, humming quietly, thinking quiet thoughts that seemed to echo in the back of her head. She knew she was becoming withdrawn, could see that she was pulling back from others, but that as with all things in life, other things were becoming more of a focus.

    Her sword arm was strong, stronger than it had ever been before. Her words held conviction and faith, and there were some who looked to her for direction and support. Shallyah was chief amongst those, someone that she knew she had to work with, not that that was any hardship.

    The Red Knight had altered things somehow, so that Shallyah came into posession of a holy relic of the Red Knight, a pair of beautiful red bracers. They were wonderful, enhancing her defenses and giving her more power within battle, truly a gift worthy of the faithful. Whilst Val did not covet such a thing, no, she was pleased for Shallyah, there was still the little voice at the back of her mind that said to her that perhaps her own faith needed more work.

    Looking around, she realised she had wandered to the Temple of the Triad without even thinking about it. Nodding to herself, she headed inside to spend time in prayer._


  • Entry 30 - Arrival, Victory, and Loss

    _Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure… than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much, because they live in a gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat.

    • Theodore Roosevelt_

    So much has happened in the last two weeks. In some ways, my life is as chaotic as it was during the troubles with the Calculabe, and I had not thought that such could happen again. At least I've not ended up locked away somewhere as seems to happen too often for my liking.

    We made our attempt against Vaxin. Sent'lia gave his life, Aelthas nearly gave his, but we still failed. Perhaps war is unavoidable now, but we have one last chance to stop him, if you could even call it a chance. I've only been to the hells once, and that was to help save Benji, now we may have to go there in the hopes of finding Vaxin and stopping him before his ascension, if it's even possible.

    The trouble with the Illithids seems to be escalating as well, with a group of the greatest heroes of the realm going into the Norwick Crypts to recover something of apparently great value to our enemy. Five died to bring it to the surface, but victory was achieved. I am sad to say that I was not able to go with them on that trip, but I lent what aid I could in the form of spells. Perhaps now we have an edge, with the recovery of the totem piece, but only time will tell.

    The Red Knight has seen fit to lay her blessings upon me. Words cannot describe how pleased I am by this, and humble, that such a person as me could become a holy warrior. Shallyah says that she is proud to be my faith-sister, but I can't help wonder what the Red Knight has in store for her.

    I don't know if I will continue this journal or not. Much I have written on has been history, or topical discussion, and now that I have arrived at my destination of becoming a holy warrior, I'm not sure what I could write that would add to the volume of work.

    Perhaps in time, something will come to me. For now though, I will focus on other things.


  • Entry 29 - To be a Knight

    _Be loyal of hand and of mouth, seeking to serve every man as best ye may.
    Seek ye the fellowship of good men, hearken unto their words and remember them.
    Be humble and courteous wherever thou goest, not talking much, neither being dumb altogether.
    Allow no women or child to suffer by thy default, so that if ye may lift thy hand to assist one, do so. If thou must draw thy sword to defend them, do so unto thy own death.
    If thou come into fellowship with boys or men who speak in a disrespectful manner of any women or maiden, let them know in gracious words that this displeases thou and thy Lord, then depart their company forthwith.
    Thou art to defend and protect those who seek to worship in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and promote faith in Him throughout this earth He has made.

    • The Knights Oath (Circa Middle Ages)_

    I continue down the path I have walked for many years now. The path to becoming a holy warrior, a Knight of the Red Knight. Little steps every day take me closer to my goal, and I can feel it now, like a spark within me growing. I don't know what it's going to feel like, when my Lady empowers me with her gifts, but if it's anything like how I feel at the moment, then it can't be bad.

    Three times I've taken part in the jousting tourneys they have started to hold here in Peltarch. Twice I've won the Duelling tournament, once the Archery, and the last time I came second in Archery and Sir Mariston passed the trophy to me. I'm hopelessly unskilled at the jousting, but I still take part every chance I get.

    I've found a fellow follower of the Red Knight as well, a skilled young woman from Vaasa named Shallyah. She seems to have developed a bond to her weapon, a greataxe, and she uses it with supreme skill. She too, takes part in the jousting tournaments, and although she doesn't win she still takes everything in her stride. I can't help but feel that I'm watching a future champion develop.

    Speaking of Sir Mariston, he seemed very impressed with my skill at arms, after I won the last Duelling tournament. He congratulated me, said that I was upholding one of the finest traditions of knighthood. To be able to compete under the watchful eye of my Lord, and impress him in such a way, meant a lot to me.

    I've been trying to take the time to reflect on what it means to be a Knight, to become something like Sir Rath, Sir Mariston, or Sir Rico. Each of them is a Paladin, although with a different deity supporting them, which means that they each put a unique twist on the way that they live. Having never met a Paladin of the Red Knight, I'm not 100% sure of what I should aim for beyond the standard vows, and the dogma of the Lady of the Lanceboard. In this circumstance though I guess that whatever I do, as long as it follows those guidelines, will be what a Paladin of the Red Knight would do.

    Sir Rico has a great heart for the downtrodden, for women, and for those who can be redeemed. Sir Mariston is a fine student of the law and loves his city with a great heart. Sir Rath is zealous for his god and will die before he lets evil walk away unchallenged. Each of them inspires me in a different way.

    I love Peltarch, and I will give my last breath to see that it stands free and strong. I will adhere to the law where it is just, and fight to change it where it is not. I will protect those who cannot protect themselves. I will serve the Red Knight with everything that I have, and all that I am.

    I have one more test, one last thing I must do before I can complete my journey. I don't know if I will survive it, but regardless of the outcome, I know that I will have done what was right.

    Red Knight, guide me this day, whether to victory or eternity.


  • Entry 28 - Family

    _If you look deeply into the palm of your hand, you will see your parents and all generations of your ancestors. All of them are alive in this moment. Each is present in your body. You are the continuation of each of these people.

    • Thich Nhat Hanh_

    It has been long since I considered my thoughts to record them, although I have been far from idle. My time has been taken up with matters related to my blood, and my ancestry, more specifically my parents. Whilst I spent many years absent from N'jast, they never forgot me or turned against me even when others did. And when I returned to them, they welcomed me with open arms.

    Why did I go home after all these years? Well, I have Troff to thank for that. After the issues with the Shadovar were resolved and we had defeated their general, he and I were talking in the commons in Peltarch. As often happens when one is recovering from a trip to the fugue, I was feeling melancholy and my thoughts wandered to the past. He and I spoke of family and of childhood memories, which made me realise that I hadn't seen my parents in nearly 30 years.

    So, I put my affairs in order. Left the Crafters Union, completed the enchanting orders I still had along with the crafting orders, and asked Sir Thel for a leave of absence so that I could see my family, which he gracefully granted me. The final piece was to put the college in the hands of one I could trust, and so Eowiel agreed to look after my duties there whilst I was away.

    I told no-one that I was going, for I knew that they would simply try and keep me in Narfell. My friends love me, I know this for true, but saying goodbye would have been too hard for them. They'd be sad, and they'd ask me to reconsider, and I know I would.. I'd put it off for a few weeks, which would become months, which would become years, and I would never leave to see my family.

    The trip back home took me through the ruins of Jiyyd which thankfully were quiet that day. I saw the odd undead or imp, but such things were no more than a distraction which I shot down easily. The long road was a little more annoying, with wolves and bandits… although when I took my helm off the bandits ran for their lives. That was moderately amusing and gratifying.

    After some weeks of riding I arrived in N'jast, a city that had barely changed in appearance since I was last there. The guards waved me through with barely a glance, and so after putting my horse into a stable and tipping the stableboy generously made my way through the streets and alleys to the inner district and my parents home.

    At first they didn't recognise me, with my red hair, lack of voice, and the fact that I had barely aged, but after I cast a spell of comprehension on them, they were able to understand my speech and welcomed me back with smiling faces.

    We spent the next two years together as I re-learnt the business and we shared what had happened since we were last together. Some of my tales astonished them, others left them confused or distressed, but I would hold nothing back from them.

    Of all the people I have ever known, there have been so few who accepted me as I am, flaws and all. Of those people, my parents were the first and I have no doubt that they never stopped loving me, not even when I was announced as a traitor to the crown.

    I went with my father on his last trip to sell silks and cloths, we even employed a translator so that I could conduct business on his behalf. Those days and nights were magical, and I will remember them for all of my days. The pride in his eyes to see the woman I had become, and that I had triumphed through adversity. Even more than that though, I was known everywhere we went that there was a tavern or school, something that only the heroes and villains of the stories could ever claim.

    The second last night of our trip, my father took ill with a cold snap. After checking him over, I could tell that this was not something that would pass, that his body was finally giving in to old age. We skipped the last stops and rushed home so that he could be comfortable before he died, and he spent his last few days with my mother and I at his side. We sang songs, told stories, laughed, and wept together. One night he went to sleep, and never woke up. He was 85.

    My mother took this very hard, they had been very much in love throughout their entire lives and so now she was without her soulmate. Her health diminished rapidly, until only one month later she too, went on to the afterlife.

    I did not mourn their passing, nor do I mourn them now. The living mourn for themselves most often, for if we are true to our gods we will be reunited with those we love when we pass over ourselves. My parents were at peace, and I know they are together in the heavens, so why would I grieve their passing? Instead, I remember with fondness the time we had together before they died, and I know now that I have redeemed myself from where I was once long ago, the Historian of Tempus has become the Singer of the Red Knight.

    Here, in Narfell, I have another family. Troff, Rith, Moonie, Fadia, Caelisar, and others. They are the brothers and sisters I never had... different races, different ages, but all with the same heart. I may have to come and go, but both of my families have a bond to me, and I will do them both proud.


  • _More than four years had passed since the red haired woman had written in her journal. Memories too precious to write now filled her thoughts, a single tear rolled down her cheek. She was back in the Bardic College, although only the gods themselves knew how long that would be the case for. Her estates in N'jast would need her again, in time.

    With her thoughts so focussed on what had been, she picked up a piece of fine charcoal and began to sketch her parents as she remembered them in her youth… her father, smiling and holding her mother close. It had been a rare occasion, when neither of them had needed to be on the road... they'd had a grand meal in a restaurant around the corner from their home to celebrate and her father had given her a silk cap that he'd hand-stitched himself. She still had the cap, although it had been years since she could wear it.

    Time passed, she couldn't be sure how much, but she finished the portrait. It did her heart good to put such a thing to paper, where it would remain even when her memory failed her. With a kiss on the corner, she turned her thoughts to what had been, and what was to come._


  • Entry 27 - The Value of Life

    _Believe that life is worth living and your belief will help create the fact.

    • William James_

    As we move through the world, things around us change. Time passes, and the more aware you are of your place in things, the more you realise just how little you can control, how much is in flux. Some people react to this realisation by panicking, and trying to fight against it. Others ignore it, hoping it will go away. Others still accept it for what it is, and work with it.

    The worst response that I have seen to where someone realises that they cannot control the situation that they are in, that what they want to happen will not happen, is to attempt to take their own life. It gave me pause, and left me a little shaken. Of course I have heard of suicide, even seen the odd report of it during my time in service, but I have never had to confront it head on.

    When I think of what I found in that room, the first thing that comes to mind is the blood. Burgundy red, and slightly sweet… it was everywhere. The floor, the bed, and on my hands. The second thing is the faces of those who care for her. Fear, worry, guilt, panic, sorrow. So much sorrow.

    When Corwin brought me to her, I had no time to think. A woman I knew only by name lay dying in a pool of her own blood, my training took over. Stitches, bandages, and healing magics. The most powerful spells I had at my disposal poured into her, sewing the wounds closed and restoring vitality to her body that was teetering at the edge of the brink.

    I do not know what could have happened to her, to leave her so desperate for death that she would try to take her own life. Honestly? I don't think I want to know. I pray that it was simply a momentary lapse of sanity, a plea for help from a lost soul. I know that those who care for her will stay with her, do everything that they can for her.

    In the end though, she is the one who is responsible for her life and death. She must learn the value of life, and decide if it something worth fighting for. For me, that question doesn't even need to be asked. Life is something worth dying for, but even more importantly, it is worth living for.

    We cannot hide behind stone or wood walls and huddle together, afraid of the darkness. We must be bold, we must choose to live, or what point is there to even having walls? Let us show them all the value of life, by living every single day to its fullest.


  • _The red haired woman sat in her room, pouring over plans that she’d drawn in conjunction with some dwarven stonemasons that worked in Peltarch. She had had many places that she could live in since she came to Narfell, from the Dancing Mermaid Inn, to the Legion Tower, and currently the Bardic College. But times were changing, hells, it was her that had changed the most.

    Recent discussions that she had had with others in the College had led her to feel that perhaps she was no longer the best person to lead the other bards. Her own ideals had changed so much from the person she once was that she was almost unrecognisable, and so the bard that she was, was no more. Instead she was a singer, and a loremaster. She may be a warrior, a leader of men… but she was not a bard.

    Three stories of stone… two above ground, one below. By the mastery of the dwarves a tree could be placed in the main living room and with a little magic from the druids, it would live and grow as well as it might in the wild, perhaps even better. Here, an enchanting lab. Here, a library and office for writings to be completed and stored. There, two bedrooms. One for guests, one for her. Maybe in time she would share it with someone, but she doubted it.

    This would be her fortress against the cares of the world, a place where she could relax and look out over the Icelace, to imagine her old home in the distance, to think about everything that she had chosen to leave behind. It was like the person she was, was no more, stripped away by the many, many returns to life that the Red Knight had given her. She was no longer Valerie, the Temposan scholar, but rather, she was Valkyrie, the Red Falcon.

    Now all that remained was to get approval from City Hall for the building to proceed, a process that she knew could take a long time. Thanks to the gifts of the fey, time was one thing that she certainly had._


  • Entry 26 – Honour

    _Honor is the inner garment of the Soul; the first thing put on by it with the flesh, and the last it layeth down at its separation from it.

    • Akhenaton_

    There are many aspects of a person’s character that go together to make up their identity. We are all defined by our choices, by the decisions we make, and these in turn are reflections of our character, but they are also the things that can develop us into the people we are. Kindness, cruelty, generosity, selfishness, honour, dishonour, and so on. One of the most important to me, is Honour.

    Honour is not just an ideal, it’s a way of life. Some say that they “honour” their business transactions, which is to say that they carry through on what they say they’ll do. Others give “honour” to their god or goddess, which normally means to do things that are acceptable by that deity. But there is another form of honour, the one that defines what I am to be, and that defines the life of the Samurai. I was reminded of this in a very poignant way recently and it moved me so that I had to write this entry.

    I mentioned the Samurai, the noble caste from Kara-tur. I have long been fascinated by their culture, by their way of life. To them, honour is an absolute; everything is done for the honour of their clan, their Emperor, and their ancestors. To be dishonoured is considered worse than death, and wars have been fought over it. Duels of honour are common, with the loser normally choosing to commit Seppuku, ritualistic suicide. Doing this restores their honour in their own eyes, and the eyes of their kin.

    Many, many years ago now, I watched a duel of honour between sworn foes. The man I knew was defeated by his opponent, who had travelled from Kara-tur to find him and face him. After the loss, his Katana and Wakazashi were taken from him, a great dishonour which his brothers swore to avenge, and he committed Seppuku with the aid of his brother. Those who watched the spectacle tried to intervene, to stop what was happening. They did not understand that honour is more than a matter of life and death, it is a matter of the soul. To the Samurai, if he has no honour, he is nothing, a ghost, a restless spirit with no home. His ancestors will not accept him, he is an outcast from his clan. Neither in life or death will he be accepted by his people until he regains his honour.

    By him committing Seppuku and his brothers regaining his weapons to lay to rest with his body, his honour was restored so that he could go to be with his ancestors in the afterlife. If such had not been done, he would have been doomed to wander the realms without cease as a ghost at best, or a Kami (demon) at worst.

    The Samurai are like what we in the rest of Faerun know as Paladins, holy warriors. To a Paladin, their honour is everything, although their honour is normally devoted to their god or goddess only, and sometimes a lord that they may serve. A Paladin’s word is his bond, he is sworn to never lie, to protect the weak and innocent, to fight evil wherever possible, and to lay down his life rather than betray his ideals.

    To see what happens when a Paladin chooses to break this code, one only has to look at the fall of Kara du’Monte, the Paladin of Kelemvore whose armour I now wear. The Divine Shield was captured by fiends, and she was given a choice… to swear allegiance to her foes, or see her friends taken to the hells and tortured for as long as their souls survive. She chose her friends over her honour, and thus damned herself for all time. She would go on to fall completely, become a Blackguard, and engineer the N’jast war that would see me come to these lands for the first time. We know from the time of the Second Great Misfortune that if she had chosen her honour over her friends, that whilst it would have been a high price to pay, that she would have stayed true to Kelemvore and became the force for good that she had sought to be her entire life.

    Tomohiro is a Samurai from Kara-tur, someone who has been in Narfell for longer than I. He has seen much, done much, earnt much honour. He is so dedicated to his role as a Bushi (Defender, I think) that he died to protect me, and upon his return he was crestfallen for he had failed his sacred task. No matter what Eluriel and I did to try and explain for him that he had actually earnt much honour in what he did, he would not accept it, nor would he accept a gift from me for his bravery. Instead, he demanded that he pay for it. Now he has the finest steel platemail and shield that I can make, and a bow of darkwood from Eluriel. These things, I hope, will aid him in his tasks to come.

    Every day I step a little closer to becoming a holy warrior, a Red Falcon in service to the Red Knight. I will model my goodness on the actions of Alexi, my honour on the actions of Tomohiro, my loyalty on the actions of Natalie. Each of them has an aspect that I admire, that I aspire to reflect in my life and actions. The lesson for me to learn now, is that honour is an absolute, that to die in service of those I have sworn to defend is not a loss, but a gain.

    How a man lives is a good judge of character, but how he chooses to face his death is a better one.