Board Thread:Character Journals/@comment-27275075-20160206083812

The best time to raise a corpse is immediately after burial. The sooner the better as the soil above the buried body is still loose, and the dead hasn't yet had time to decompose. Cromm preferred the newer dead to the long dead, as decomposition led to a weakening of the minion (skeletons are more brittle than full-bodied zomibes). Also, they stank less.

Cromm's first foray into necromancy began quite accidentally during a raid by local raiders. One of his father's guardsmen, and a friend of his, Gareth, died fighting the raiders. In the confusion and heat of battle, Cromm attempted a number of spells simultaneously in order to save his friend, inadvertently raising the lifeless body. It was as if a rope had been placed connecting his mind with Gareths, though Gareth did naught but stand where he had been raised, slack jawed and lifelike, though lifeless. Cromm was surprised at first, but would later come to understand the implications of what he had accomplished.

Cromm's experimentation with the undead was fueled by the graveyards of the local villages, where he learned the possibilities and limitations inherent in commanding the undead. His training was further supplemented by the hermit magic users of the borderlands, those with enough talent to excel at small tasks, though too little power to afford the Academy's notice. Cromm sought out those with experience in earth magics, using this knowledge to further aid in his raising of undead minions, who became increasingly useful in fending off the raider forays, though not the notice of the Academy.

Merson, Cromm's father, knew something of his son's magic abilities, but paid little heed to them, caring instead to nurturing his vast and growing fortune. The talents and quirks of a third son to a third concubine were of little concern to the man. His attentions turned to Cromm only when the Academy attempted to steal his son away (as he saw it), a thing he abhorred. Merson had no love for the academy, having lived in the shadow of her walls all throughout his childhood. His negative feelings were rather unfounded, but all Merson could see was the pompous and overbearing nature of the self-proclaimed "great ones" and his distate for them smoldered and grew. It was a certainly a factor in his decision to leave Rivillian and foray into the Borderlands in search of greater wealth and power. He would not allow progeny of his to be taken. Time and again the Academy representatives came, and each time Merson would rebuff their efforts. Seeing the utility of Cromm's abilities, Merson encouraged his son to grow his power and further explore their possibilities believing he would find a way to profit from those same skills.

Cromm never acquired his father's distate for the Academy, and at times found himself wondering what he'd be able to accomplish under their tutelage. However, he did gain many of his father's political views, and was fiercly jealous of his own individual 'sovereignty,' not lightly giving his allegiance to any person or cause.

Time spent in the woodlands of his father's vast estate with any number of his 23 siblings allowed Cromm great opportunities of learning and experience. Strange coincidences and odd happenings seemed to follow the boy, but it was all valued to him for experience. His skills as a naturalist also grew, and his ability to heal others was greatly supplemented by the many injuries attained by the adventurous children. The guidance of the wild-mages steadily increased his magical abilites as well, and many recognized a unique capability in the boy.

As Cromm grew older, the realities of life as a lowly third and third son soon became apparent, and he entered his father's employ; apprenticing to one of his elder brothers as a trade broker and information gatherer for Merson. Merson maintained his old trade contacts in Rivillian, and cultivated a number of friends, contacts, and allies in both Napolia and New Kalia as well. His wealth remained sizable thanks in large part to his efforts as an illicit middleman between the rich and noble families of the two warring nations. Cromm had many opportunities to experience and absorb aspects of High Society in the social courts of both countries while on his father's errand.

It came to Merson's attention that a secret meeting of sorts was to take place in Moira's Victory between the nations of New Kalia and Napolia. Understanding that any negotiations between these warring powers would inevitably affect his businesses, Merson sent a few of his sons, including Cromm, to oversee the proceedings, and return with any information they could gather. ____________________________________________________________________________

2/5/16

That damnable fool of a hobbit! I found myself stuck in a barrel, though alive. No idea how long I had been in there, long enough to have ...released... on myself. No matter, there were others investigating the wreckage that freed me from my stupid prison. Apparently they call themselves "the People of the Ash." I find them entirely too trusting and completely discourteous. None had the werewithal to offer me new raiment, though many complained at my state. What a bunch of self-centered and entirely uncharitable lot.

Not only that, they seemed to think that freeing me from that damned barrel was enough to enlist me in the assassination of some local lord or other. "Blah blah blah, super powerful, can not be killed, but we are going to do it," whatever. I entertained the idea of being helpful to their cause in an attempt to free myself from this new island prison to no avail. Their leader is entirely intent on killing the one called Leopold. I think. I can not remember. I attempted to enlist the help of one of my barrel prison saviors in an attempt to understand what the hell was really going on by getting the other side of the story but to no avail. He seemed intent on being loyal to these curmudgeons for whatever reason. No matter.

Some woman was also in this little secret meeting, but she is entirely useless. Also, someone is lying to me. After I left, this woman came to me stating that they had planned to send her and I to this Leopold on some hair brained mission. Once confronted about it, this leader of the ash people denied the whole story. Bunch of filthy liars if you ask me.

Also, something about a worm. That gods damned fool hobbit. I swear to dad if I get my hands on that rat bastard... ____________________________________________________________________________

2/19/2016

The worm comes in.

Word got out that a group was planning to go on an expedition to study the obelisks on the island in an attempt to gather information and hopefully unlock the secrets to escaping this place. I found that the archer woman who had lied to me before was apparently in charge of the expedition. My requests to join the party were rather rudely rebuffed; she very clearly explained to me that she did not trust me. As if I was the one who had been lying through their teeth nonstop since meeting. No matter, she also revealed that she had planned to forgo her mission to the keepers, which created a greater and better opportunity for me.

I sought out Skaihl to communicate my intentions about going to the city of the keepers. He seemed surprised at first that the archer woman had decided not to fulfill her mission to the Keepers, then acted as if he had suddenly remembered that they had come to some accord about her no longer going. Lies upon lies it seems; regardless, he was open to allowing me to attend the party headed to the keepers, a messenger to Leopold was being sent, apparently with a treatise for peace (likely more lies) and Skaihl saw no problem allowing me to tag along. This man is far too trusting, and it will likely get him killed.

I found an unlikely ally in a man named Joryn. He seemed very interested in my expedition to the city of the keepers and appeared truthful in his desire to aid me on my journey, however, our plans were soon discarded as he would be unable to approach too near the city for fear that he would be recognized as one who had fought against Leopold's men. We agreed upon a cipher for communication in the event that either of us encountered information pertinent to our goal of escaping this island.

The journey commenced the following morning and was entirely uneventful. I was not sad to see the last of that bakerless place, or the lies and thirst for blood of its people. We were granted easy access to the city of the Keepers, and were immediately granted audience with this Leopold himself. Turns out the "messenger" was a runaway keeper herself. More deceptions from the people of the ash; I imagine I could have learned a great deal from this young girl (whatever her name was) on our journey if I had been privvy to this information.

Leopold himself was well comported and truthful. I found that there was a captive of the ash people who was to be put to death the next morn. My attempts to bargain for his life were for naught, though Leopold was open to answering any questions I had and offered me free access to the city for the duration of my stay. He seems overly trusting as well, though he is in a position to trust easily, surrounded as he is by his great city, guard, and certainly by his own power.

Another of Leopold's subjects is a young mage called Jerith who was assigned as my personal guide (read: babysitter) in the city. It took some convincing for him to trust me, but I believe we will make fine friends given time and circumstance. He claims to specialize in body control magics and was very interested to know the nature and background of my own abilities, which I was all too happy to give. We toured the town for a time, sampled some rather forgettable cookies at a local bakery and perused the wares of the local vestment shops. I need to replace my armor for something lighter else the heat of this island will be the death of me. I look forward to expanding my ability and knowledge in the peerage of Leopold and Jerith.

Things to do:

•Purchase more appropriate raiment

•Find better cookies

•Find better accomodations as befitting one of my stature.

•Something about blue hair.

I do it man! Business is business! Skeksis. Skeksis. Skeksis. GARTHIM! ATTACK!! Skeksis. Skeksis. Skeksis. IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD!!!! Or the beginning! Look at that wall!

The Barrel goes out.

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3/4/2016 - Non-journal Notes

 •burrow dream

 •woke up in forest, burrow leads back to town

 •aquabats song

 •ripped off by merchant

 •found graveyard

 •teaching jareth

 •kicked out of palace

 •palace has baker

 •weird dream

 •wake up on beach

 •taken to leopold

 •chamber

 •cut ability

•beat to a pulp

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3/4/2016

 Her name was Talitha; and I loved her desperately.

 We met shortly after my father moved the family to the borderlands. I was immediately struck by her emerald eyes and raven black hair; her natural, carefree nature in such stark contrast to the beleaguered stagnation and distress apparent in that place. She was my light in the darkness, my flower in the desert; her skin like honey, sweet and fragrant, her laugh the soothing babbling of a young stream. The way she loved me abolished all worry and doubt, her passion like fire, her grace unmatched. She was the envy of women, and the covetous desire of men.

 And she was mine.

<p class="MsoNormal"> Though we were young, my father saw fit to grant us a small parcel of land upon which to live. Her parents, being impoverished farmers, were thrilled at the prospect of their daughter marrying into so prestigious and wealthy a family. We were young, but we were happy. As I was away conducting a mercantile trip into Napolia with my brothers, I received an unexpected correspondence from Talitha. This prompted me to return early in order that we might begin planning our future. The letter explained that I would be a father: she carried my child.

<p class="MsoNormal"> They say love is a burning thing. I say love is a damning thing.

<p class="MsoNormal"> The smoke was my first indication of trouble. I moved as quickly as I could to our humble home only to find it engulfed in flame. There, before the threshold of our sacred space, stood 4 very large men whose build and equipment revealed their station as marauders. They held my Talitha between them having viciously beaten and violated her. She hung slumped in the grip of one of the men, sobbing, covered in mud and blood and tears. It was apparent that they had beaten her so severely that the child she carried had slipped its place in her womb to soak the ground with their blood.

<p class="MsoNormal"> It was then that they noticed me, one motioned to the others. I fell to my knees numb, confused, and lost, pleading with them for her life. They laughed. The brute holding her unsheathed his weapon and held her aloft by the arm. I cried out, but my pleas seemed only to spur them on. The man sunk his sword deep into her side. She gasped, her head flung back mouth gaping wide in a silent cry robbed of air. The man dropped her to her knees as he pulled the blade from her side. Her pained eyes met mine as she fell forward into the mud, the final vestiges of life leaving her body.

<p class="MsoNormal"> I found myself in a state of stunned despair. She was gone. It was as if I had lost connection to my own spark of life, my will to live, my soul, my sanity. As the men turned their attention to me, I felt something rising within myself; a boiling, white hot rage. It burned through my being, a raging inferno of hate-fueled power rising up into an unearthly howl of bitterest rage and violence. The earth shook with the power of my fury; stones flew through the air piercing through the men in a shower of mineral death. The very ground cracked and groaned, rising in some areas and collapsing in others. Hills of earth moved across the space like the waves of an angry sea, swallowing all things in their path: the blood soaked ground, the burning home, the men, the woman.

<p class="MsoNormal"> As quickly as it began, it was over. The terrain before me was now shaped into a large jutting mound of earth and stone, no longer the flat expanse of good earth it once was, now a solitary reminder to the beauty and grace with which the earth had once been crowned. A resolute memorial to my Talitha. It was two days before they found me there, unmoved from my vigil at her side, a broken man. They carried me home to my father, ignorant to the horrors which had befallen that place. Out of that tragedy came the discovery of my magical talent, and the madness which so often accompanies such abominable devastation.

<p class="MsoNormal"> I can only describe the loss I felt at the hands of Leopold in comparing it to the experience of the loss of my beloved: a rending of the soul, a crushing of the will, a smothering of the spark of life. I was, again, a broken man. Upon Talitha’s death, I had the satisfaction of the utter destruction of her killers. I have, as of yet, attained no such satisfaction upon the head of Leopold. I can only imagine that this is why I yet live. Contrary to my best efforts, the sweet release of death for the reunion with my wife was once again stolen from me. To my perception, Leopold has again killed my Talitha and delayed my reunion with her. In one moment he has both stolen from me that which gave me purpose, and supplied me with renewed ambition.

<p class="MsoNormal"> I yet live, though by what means, and in what state I do not know. However, I live. My blood boils anew, my rage rekindled; fueled again by the continued existence of that megalomaniacal traitor and liar.

<p class="MsoNormal"> Cromm will be reborn again, a new man. What came before is now of little consequence.

<p class="MsoNormal"> My breath has purpose.

<p class="MsoNormal"> I am SPITE.

<p class="MsoNormal"> I am PAIN.

<p class="MsoNormal"> I AM VENGEANCE. <ac_metadata title="Cromm"> </ac_metadata>