Kessmiah's Chronicle
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"I fight for my people, and I fight to defeat myself. Any other good that comes from my effort is merely a positive byproduct of my efforts."
Unlike the phoenix that rises from the ashes, much like the devastation that has wrought the land time and time again, the fall of the People's camp, my home, has proven to stay such. Spirits of my people for all these years wander about tormented. One had myself and Rary as we explored old Norwick.
The Vision.
I had a vision. High priest of Corellon Raryolder and I, after I had taken it upon ourselves to investigate the outskirts of the elven camp. The vision I pray to the Seldarine is not a precursor to events to come. He had been attacked by shadows of my past, ones I could not recognize, but had a deep familiarity. One would ominously watch as he fought the other three. Once the three figures had fallen, the one that felt more familiar than any of the others had approached. In one swing, the spectre attacked.
Death.
He had fallen, I snapped out of my vision only to find myself in the ruins of old norwick once more. We had made steady pace then to the elven camp, only to see something that completely contradicted everything I had been told about the death cult subjugating my brothers and sisters.
Rebellion
The spirits rebelled against their bugbear oppressors. We aided the tormented spirits who managed to fight and slay them from across the gap between us and the camp spanning its border. One spirit, one that bared similar familiarity to the others managed to will itself out of the camp much like the one that had attacked us earlier did. Raryolder used Corellon's might to strike what looked like fear into its heart. It comprehended us, we asked what we could do to help, we explained what had been done already.
Do more.
This is what it told us before vanishing. No other spirits then attempted to follow or attack us, or even traverse the elven encampment's border. What did it mean… do more. Raryolder is almost certain that the death cult that supposedly has had them under control originates from a place called "the lost city", and defeating them would lead to their liberation. Though he is wise and experienced, he was not one of the People that had lived their most his life. I am almost certain their liberation will require more than just slaying their oppressors. Sacrifices might need to be made... but of what tipe, I am not certain.
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Anger, passion, channeled rage, destruction. The desire to see all those in your path who cross you consumed in burning flame.
I am completely livid. But focused… the goal will continue, through the tragic events of today, I have found new resolve.
There will be no peace for me. I have accepted this.
No peace for me should I free my people.
I am truly beginning to understand Kossuth's teachings through the Order of the Salamander. As a slave, I merely made a friend of their faithful, and practiced exercises that offered distraction from the rigors of servitude. Something to distract my mind from the pain and sorrow I felt.
I was taught to empty my cup before I can learn the truth as I perceive it. My problem is I have left my cup empty for so long, only to let things trickle in since I have been freed.
Now I am beginning to see. Now, after being broken for so long, I am beginning to feel, to truly feel.
Love for the Seldarine, my fallen family, my people... love for my sister, even love for Hen. And love even for baby Vladmir, the child of the kursks who had so much potential; who I cared for as a slave, who I fed, took care of, and even allowed to use me as an outlet for his frustration... I could take it.
Unbridled hated for demons, for the drow, for those who would do my loved ones harm.
Anger... rage, towards the ignorant, towards those who cannot learn from their mistakes. One who I should revere and respect for the services he has done for our people, but the fact he shows no remorse for mistakes made, the fact that he will not be able to admit faults and blame others, and the fact that he is willing to blind himself to the fact that we committed a horrible atrocity by accident, that we sacrificed a soul of my people to resurrect a demon as an experiment, and has shown denial and tried to make justifications and hypothesis that it could not have happened leaves me in bitter disgust. I will continue working with him as he means well to a certain extent, but should his pride and volatile nature cost me any more of my loved ones, I do not know what I'll do...
I stand at a crossroads now.
Could I make the sacrifice to truly become a devout to the Order of the Salamander and watch those who stand before me, defiant, burn by my fist. Sacrifice my mind, body and soul to living flame and rise from the ashes like the phoenix.
Do I continue walking this path, and continue trying to be one with my people, to continue to uphold my oaths, and continue remaining calm, patient whimpering omega pup who will always feed last and remain submissive. To just stand back and fire my bow, knowing.
My vision...
My vision is to see that my people can live in peace, no matter what the cost is to myself. I will not barter with demons, devils, for power to do so. I will continue to show mercy to the weak, should they ask upon it, though should what they ask is false, they will find me shepherding them to the afterlife with my bow or my fist. I will continue to improve myself, and transcend limits that others can only break with the use of petty magics.
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Searching… searching... searching...
Myself, Raryolder, and a few other good people have been searching for a way to find what we need to release the spirits of the elven camp. We have found information. We have travelled all the way up the giantspire mountains to the far west.
I don't like the cold...
I am rarely one to complain, but when you spend most of your life in a temperate climate, rarely does Auril's bite phase you. Then, the wolves that breathe ice... the giants who when you went near you felt your body temperature sink. Unpleasent.
What we have found...
We found hieroglyphics of a time long past, where man and demon and monster were among each other. They make little sense to me, yet, living in Oscura, such a concept does not surprise me either where human, devil, and demon interact often.
My children.
Not too long ago, I had adopted another bow that Rary had offered to me. She is the most keen of the three, her arrows striking true upon my targets more than either. Three children now, three bows, and I love them all. I take care of them, I nurture them... they are my children.
