3. New Life, New Chapters - Post Attonement of Ronan & Mare

New Life, New Chapters - Post Attonement of Ronan & Mare


  • Looking over his old journal and reading its various entries, Ronan shakes his head and then tosses it in the fireplace at the bard college. He then pulls out a new book, all pages blank, and begins to write the first chapter.

    ((Each entry is dated in Narfell time))

    Entry 1

    This day, I've officially and quite literally burned away my past mistakes. The hiding, the shadows, and the deception are things I no longer need. It has been a few months after the ritual. Has life been easier since then? No, not at all. It is even more difficult. Every day is a struggle and every day is filled with decisions I must make for the greater good. This means I have to care. I have to care about others, I have to use my power "carefully" and for unselfish needs. I have to prove, not only to everyone else, but to the gods that I will not be a threat to what is "right" and "just."

    But am I happier? Yes, in a way I am. I've more friends, more folks who care about me. No, I dont intend to use them as shields or pawns in my own silly games. Things are a lot simpler when I dont have to lie. My purpose is not to prove I am superior to everyone else, no. It is something else. Something large. Huge. I can feel it. But I've yet to figure out what it is still. I am young and my gifts have grown beyond what I could imagine and are growing still. The power is not meant for myself, but for something greater. I am just a vessel for it. A host, if you will.

    Though aside from that, the support I receive from Mareann makes me all the more happy. Her shining smile is motivation enough to better myself. The more I see her, the more happier I am with my decision. She has a strange power of me. A power I could never obtain. And I love it.

    Another such woman is my adopted sister, Celestria. Well, we just sort of said that we are adopted siblings, but it isn't anything official I dont think. Surprising that she was the complete opposite of what I was before all of this. She was my enemy, someone who'd I manipulate for my own gains. But no, her constant belief that I was not some horrid individual, even after ill rumors, surprised me still. I spent more time with her, beginning to think that this game I play is a waste. I listened, and eventually she guided me. She is different from all the paladin-like individuals who have broom sticks up their bottoms.

    If not for Mareann and my adopted sister, I might be travelling down the shadowed path still.

  • R

    ((bump))


  • lays a glossy black feather that seems oddly different from a normal raven feather on the desk in front of her picking up her quill and writing

    I've stared at this feather over the years. It was once a source of frustration. Then it became one of comfort, a tangible thing to hold onto to help me remember. Then it brought me frustration again and then again comfort during my time with its original owner. I realized that I was remembering its meaning to me and not the meaning of the feather itself.

    The feather you see is supposed to be from the bird of truth. It was supposed to be a representation of truth from my love to me. A certainty that it was true. The bird of truth is a myth. The man spoke a lie to save the woman he loved from harm. He was cursed by his god, the god of truth. The curse was such that he would never again be able to speak a lie. He asked if the curse would ever be lifted and Tyche found him. Tyche transformed him into a raven. A raven that spends his eternal life flying around speaking the truth. The raven could be real or false. The feather could be real or false. I mean the feather might have just been dipped in sugar water to make it stiff and sparkle. The sentiment behind the feather was false and likely will never be real. So the feather really is the best summation of the whole relationship isn't it? Something solid that has two meanings. It was a perfect gift ironically.

    she sits back in the chair looking at the feather again

    I was so stupid. Oh well, it was fun and real for me anyway. No time for regrets must keep moving forward. I think I will start with the founding of Norwick for my first history. I already know a little about Syndders…

    she rambles on about old history of norwick


  • Urges

    I still have the urges. The urges to gain what I desire through less than good means. To hide, I want to hide. I dont want them all looking at me, expecting me to do the right thing. Just stop looking at me, just for a moment.

    I cant even get what I desire most, not like this I cant. One little lie wont hurt, right? Just one… Gods, just one lie. No one likes the truth anyway. The truth hurts more than a fantasy created in one's mind. A fantasy is perfect, its just what we want, what we desire. Why cant I tell one little fib to protect myself from more pain? Is that really evil? Someone even told me they preffered me the way I was before this attonement. Was it evil to tell this person it was all a fantasy that was created by me? To cut them so deep? That seems evil to me. They felt warmth and happiness within the fantasy world I created for them. Then when the truth was told, their world grew cold and depressing.

    I often find myself distancing myself from people. Sitting away from the fire, on my rock, in the dark. I watch them, they seem happy wth their lives. Joking and such, laughing. There is nothing for me to laugh at these days. No time for rest. No time to persue what life I truly would like. I have to help these people, I cant hide or run...

    So alone..


  • The young woman slouches into her familiar chair reading over the last entry. Her ring has changed hands. Yet, she still wears it. Starting a fresh entry in her private journal. Her battered college journal sitting near by.

    I was both wrong and right. He holds in himself all the lies and unkind things he did to me. I knew some of the things he confessed. I mean I can add just as well as anyone else skimming some gold off the top of the things we had gotten. He says he cares for me, but he isn't sure he is in love with me now. He doesn't see how I could care for him knowing he lied to me repeatedly, knowing he kept not just gold from me, but other things.

    Either way my dreams of an us may well be shattered beyond repair. He cares for me, but isn't sure if it is love or just attraction. I loved him, but now am faced with how many things he said and did that I didn't know were lies. I believed I was different. That he and I were the only good thing in his world. He told me he wanted to be a better man because of me.

    a pause and blot of ink before the pen moves on

    He told me he wanted to be a better man because of me.

    the ink widens on the dot as the writer pauses again

    So now he is better. Celestria and I saw him to this person he is now becoming. He feels guilt for what he did. He works to not treat people as things for his amusement. He attempts to make amends where possible for his deeds. Which is wonderful, but I'm still left shattered or cored out. I'm like a melon for a buffet all rind and no fruit left, maybe I will be filled with a fruit medley? a small laugh at the image burbles out of the woman even as tears slip quietly across her face

    Worst yet he thinks he might love another. All the time and work and dreams and he might not like me enough to stay. I do all the work and get all the crap of helping him, but someone else gets the good stuff. That just leaves me furious. It is so unjust. How can I ever trust him again though? I mean now I know and how can we move forward while I'll be waiting for the other shoe to drop?

    looking at the words on the page for awhile she adds a final line

    Time will out


  • the red head sits slouched in a chair staring at a ring on the desk in front of her.

    He still comes to see me sometimes. I tell myself the visits are not as frequent because the distance between Peltarch and Norwick is so much farther than Oscura and Peltarch. I think I lie to myself though.

    When he is here he isn't here. There is something missing. There is a look in his eyes. Part of him wants to be here with me. The smaller part of him, the thing I see only in his eyes and the small changes in his touches, it blames me. I'm not sure what he is blaming me for. The one misunderstanding he'd said he'd forgiven. He has been with me all these years since.

    It feels as though he feels the gods have forgiven him and so he has forgotten almost all that went before. Worse yet he cannot forgive others despite the forgiveness he seeks. He forgets who tried to keep him sane in jail. He forgets who accepted him for who he was and didn't reject him for his past. He forgets all the times I was warned off such a nasty piece of work. He is throwing away the greatest gift anyone can give another, unconditional love. I accepted him as he was broken and flawed when no one else did for more than a casual or calculated frolic. He forgets or tries not to remember…

    A heavy sigh as she slumps further into the chair

    I had a dream the other night after your last visit. I had stayed awake to watch you sleeping. When I fell asleep, I dreamed of us. Our future, we had a house of our own. It had a small garden in the back and a large music room in the front. The upstairs were sleeping quarters for us, our son and friends. The final room was yours your library on the top levels of the home. Our son had black hair. It was odd and friends would tease us that he should have pink hair. I knew this in the dream although no one was there. The name Sebastian was what I thought when I saw him. He was four or five in the dream he was running for your study. We were racing as one races with a child laughing. You had locked the door. We were locked out and I woke in tears. You left later that day and I haven't seen you since. I tell myself it is the distance between Norwick and Peltarch, but it grows harder to believe.

    I fear the boat has sprung a leak...

    the journal entry ends abruptly large splashes litter the bottom of the page and if anything else is written after that the ink ran and it is unreadable


  • Entry 3

    There have been a few victories this week. A mass murderer has been slain and taken back to where he came (a side note is on this sentence, saying: That rhymes). It was such an incredible joy when he charged at me, swinging his little sword and doing absolutely nothing. But should I take joy in that? Is that wrong? Is that being too full of myself? No, I'm allowed one little victory "dance" at least. Instead of him potentially harming friends, he decided to go after the "frail" mage. I am glad he made the wrong choice.

    Others are not celebrating so much. They seem to think it was all planned and staged. I dont get it. We gain a victory, and they act like we lost. Suppose I dont blame them, but still.

    I see the child Yana, whom the murderer killed. She is fine now, and it is nice to just watch her. So innocent. I was not very fond of children before she was killed and brought back. Though I dont mind them much so more, especially Yana. I am glad my mind is being changed about children, since I may have one in the future. Gods, me? A father? It is an insane thought, even to me.

    All my fr- a pause in the writing Now I forgot what I was going to write, since this waitress here is passing me lavender love body oil and staring at me in a strange way. Funny, since I am usually teased by every single woman out there, instead of just flirted with. But I did not feel great when flirted with just now. I almost felt guilty. Gods, I am changing too quickly, hopefully for the better.

    Now, time to see what horrible thing is trying to destroy this little town.

    Ronan closes his journal, smiling a little to himself. He rises from the seat, thanking the waitress for the glass of wine. Then, he heads out from the Grapevine inn, hoping to survive another day.


  • A red headed bard sits mulling her journal and a glossy black feather. Her head tipped, hair making a partial curtain to her face a gently pointed ear poking through.

    He wrote for so long in that other journal. It was a shock to see the burnt bits of leather and binding. I am suprised he burned it. I can only guess that he wanted to burn it when he was attoned as a symbol. It still makes me wonder. The thoughts and memories will likely still haunt him despite the burning. I'm not sure how to help him through this.

    a pause

    I mean lets face it, I never expected to be here. I'm still young. I thought he'd leave. It took him so long to realize I was taking things day by day; that I wasn't asking anything from him more than the day. Maybe I'm vain, but I think it changed him. Getting past the first issues with Rose and then the conversations in the commons. I think the day we talked to Celestria and Andrew really started changing things for him. We talked about love and sex and the differences, trying to explain to Andrew. It was different after that…not in a bad way, just different. We had spoken in the past about staying together or falling apart. He knew that I thought his life would drive us apart eventually. He's been changing ever since. I can't push or lead. He has to do it himself. I don't want him to blame me or say it was only for me. If he continues to walk this road of attonement it has to be for him and not for me or us. It is a marvel though the changes. I see more of the good thing, the sweet things daily. The small things like smiles or looks, the brush of a hand.

    I still don't understand how Jerr knew.... crap i still have to write that song.


  • _Everyone stands around dazed and blinded, while Ronan continues to see what goes on. The demons pound on defenseless adventurers. Panic sets in, and he seems to not know how to watch everyone at once. Screams are heard, many screams. Magic flings from his fingertips at a fast rate, which quickly begins to drain him. He is not fast enough to help a few, as the demons overpower them.

    Some adventurers come to, striking in the last blows of the weakened demons, our sorcerer completely drained. Once the dust settles, he sees the corpse of one who he cares for deeply.

    "I failed."_

    Entry 2

    This past week has been overwhelmingly tiring, both physically and mentally. I've no clue how to handle it. I find myself becoming bitter and angry. I can't go down that road again. But it is just so difficult. Not caring is just so much easier. I can see why these paladins and a few select priests are so lacking in personality now. They are forced to care about others but themselves, and it is just so incredibly draining.

    But I dont wish to end up like them, no. Where they hate the world, and dont enjoy life to its fullest. I shall need to figure out a way to vent these emotions, and just continue to be a "doof" as my sister called me. I'd much rather be a doof than a mindless zealot who is mad at the world. There are good things out there, and in my life as well. I cant forget those.

    I just hope this all ends soon.