Journal - A Classification of Life and Geology

Journal Note: This is the journal for Voriel Phaelis. What is posted here may include written journal pages or roleplay scenes. Feel free to read. Please do not reply in the thread. If you have comments, post them in the Story Chatter thread or PM me. If there is a scene, and you are involved, you will know that information. Thank you.


A moment to pause for breath. I believe my traveling companions must constantly move else fly apart. The further we adventure into these lands, the Castanics delve into every request, contract, and urge with a relish only seen upon children with a toy. They gnaw upon the experience, Alektos even accepted a dare to lick some body part of a downed beast looking far more bug and animal simply because it may generate euphoria. And once we rest, they are nearly unable to wake, consumed with pillows and blankets.

Unfortunately, Alektos has come to call my breasts pillows and often requires them for an uplifting of spirit, resolving insomnia, aiding aches and pains...I begin to wonder if she simply is using my kindness to cop a feel. Ah, I am far too kind. Perhaps I shall charge her, but she expects such a demand, and would only leap upon the opportunity to drop coin into my clothing to remove it. Fiends.

These contracts Arawn has found through the Federation seem simple. Typically the populace has had issue with creatures risen and attacking. With a mass reduction in city guards or a painful toll of loss with the on-going invasions in the far north, these villages depend on us. The avarice in the brothers burns brighter than our campfires. And their idea of such "little fires" is laughable. Thankfully I rarely feel so cold.

But there is a concern I have. Arawn at times looks upon me with a similar alarm. There is a terrible truth the First Expedition learned of. The fateful end of a champion among my own. Allemantheia mourned the loss of Elleon and his kin. Mother's letter demanded any information I could find while abroad to send to her. Tomes of his warfare were called for by the grand library. But she hinted at something more, for the Mysterium. Why would they be interested in a warrior's life exploits?

I do hope to pull Arawn aside to discuss this. Though I am unsure if he would understand what turns my mind. He may only see profit, and those glances of his merely calculations. But I do feel he sees the deeper seed of it all.

Something is not right in our world.

Strange how quickly my situation has changed. Mother's letter constantly vie for reply, yet I have not the time to focus upon them, or her bickering. Those veiled threats of involving my uncles into my life for the betterment of my virginal preservation has become most taxing. It cannot be sidestepped much further. Yet writing of my current enlistment borders on perversion.

The crew of Castanics has continued their little bets regarding my person. I find it appalling how they make these declarations regarding my underthings and bathing in public and before me. Could they not even take it elsewhere to gloat or plan compromising my person? Must it be before a proper breakfast?

Verael has found various reasons to lean upon things near me, giving a grin, and some moderately witty phrase. The other women around him nearly fall faint or tear off their clothing at what he offers. I merely find it boresome. I nearly lost my appetite one morning. Dreadful. Though he does provide a lure for Arawn's demeanor. The two are twins fraternal, sharing some aspects, and not others. He seems the more approachable for my own interests. I have actually met his eyes with my own. A feat it seems among their own to not stare below.

The company is deeply working upon issues of some villages, contracts to build trust in Arcadia and the neighboring provinces. Many townships whisper and discuss rising prospects for vanarch. I do hope these lands receive a fair minded one. Currently, these lands and goods are ripe for the picking. I wonder at times which hands will take them.

We are sent to investigate issues of these strange followers of Lok. Fanatics for the gods. I cannot believe how riled these men and women are, and changed. Leander was correct in his concerns of a strange taint upon his brother's sword, speaking of the findings being a precursor for something greater.

I found a few nice stones, mostly minerals. I wonder if these bits of jasper could be refined for settings. I grow bored of the stones and metals. Far too difficult to locate good specimens. But I have heard of legendary digs south of Allemantheia. Oh how I hope I can turn us that way.

Yet again I woke with dreams of being at a party with my uncles taking turns listening to my heatbeat commenting about how it thumped even and well. Their ears pressed against my chest, leaving me perplexed and uncomfortable...to then wake and see Alektos had snuck into my bed, and somehow, under my covers to cuddle my...well it was most unseemly!

I may have to find a way to shackle her to her own bed. This odd fascination of hers with my breasts is enough to backhand or smite. But oddly I think she hopes for that as some sign for intercourse. Monstrous wench. Just last week she had hidden all of my underthings leaving our adventure a tad bit dangerous. I had to wear the most uncomfortable dresses bound to the neck to compensate.

Perhaps I will afix girly lace to all of her armor.

Business fares well, though we could use many new hands. the rate of contracts requires picking and choosing, which means lost work. Certainly we would take every single one.

Arawn has hinted of some issue with a danger. He retreats at times to his office, pouring over old maps and stacks of papers. Of course to others he is the life of the party. Yet I can sense something troubles or occupies his thinking. I imagine it must deal with the tomes and deeds I found tucked away in the books of the Lokians. They hinted at a dark deal made, and the name only laid in old runes of the god languages.

Anyone wishing to hide their name in the old runes feared uncovering or worse...sought to sell their very soul.

Nothing good could ever come of such a struck deal. Even the castanics have learned this lesson painfully. I wonder, if it affects Arawn so for other reasons. He never speaks of his past, nor does Verael. Baeshra has pulled them aside at times, the trio of them discussing ventures with sharp eyes. Perhaps it is only greed that makes them serious, and not some dark design or fear of a past's reprisal.

I do hope to see Malani soon. The rare moments spent with the sorceror were kind.

And I could do for chocolates.

I never realized how shrewd they could be, or perhaps he is truly different among his kind. But things...have changed.

The night or two before, time is difficult to tell, had the lot of us relaxing in the dreary heat of that damned jungle. Thankfully we found a spot with a bit of breeze. I thought I would melt into my shoes. The deserts are far more dry than the soupy mess Ostgarath leaves me in. Yet all the while, conversations of work moved from simple contracts to talk of brothels.

Of course.

They cannot go a full day without considering where to lay, and be laid. And now they have it in mind to earn funds, locate connections, and open a private brothel in the heart of Allemantheia. Are they mad? Certainly. I may contact Uncle Aurellon regarding the matter.

Later that evening, Arawn called me to his office, a fine letter, curt and simple, requesting my presence. His wishes began with review of contracts, and offering something of castanic delicacies. Perhaps that is the reasoning for my inability to determine exactly which day it is since. Or it is that private affair.

Suffice to say, we have a new understanding regarding the business. The contracts regarding this scheme of his with wolves and sheep has merit. And it tests his financial and business acumen.

But it was the hidden note and series of maps I found shoved into a large book behind his desk that gave me pause. The look in his eyes as he found me reading over the pieces held a touch of danger and lurking spite. My curiosity of course got the better of me. But our talk after resolved matters.

Arawn seemed worried, near fretting, and unsure for once if the matter set before him should be claimed or left. Unfortunately, his hunger for power and place moved him to accept the contract before ever thinking it through. I only hope we can handle this caper well, and leave it alive.

For a tense moment, Arawn and Voriel stared at the other, she sitting in his leather office chair, he just inside the room with a glass in hand. Without words, he filled the glass, walked to his chair and offered his hand.

Taking his hand, Voriel stepped aside to let him fall back into his leather chair. The wood and hide creaked as he slid back, resting his arms on the armrests fully. He kept his stormy eyes on hers as he guided the elf to stay close, not to walk away too far. As a compromise, she simply sat on his desk, crossing her legs and leaning back.

His fingers tapped the curled edge, gulping back the liquor. "Read it?"

She lifted each page she found, scribbled notes along the edges, perhaps in his own hand yet it seemed careful and stylized. In the center, the first page seemed to have a message, traded between hands discussing ceremonies and a name. One she noticed before, the one they found in a bookcase of the Lokian cult. A second page she could read easily enough, a set of orders with a map drawn on the back. No clear names, no evidence to come back to anyone.

Her brows raised all the higher. "Tell me what happened? Have you accepted?"

"This once, we may not have much choice." With a hiss he stared at the glass, giving one of those tugged grins. "And I'll find a way to turn it for profit. You...handle the rest."

* * *

The Valkyon Federation headquarters bustled with people, rushing back and forth with purposes of state. Arawn moved through the press of people almost with a whistle on his lips and glint of victory in his eyes. One major assignment completed, to keep things nice and civil. Normally he would have shoved off returning the paperwork to another, but it paid to show his face, make contacts, even if have the taverns knew him by it to wag a finger restricting his entering...or at least just at night.

A secretary gave a slight smile and nod, leaning across her desk as the suave Castanic neared. "So Mr. Tyri'da, for what do we owe the pleasure?"

Taking up a candy from the lady's desk, he flipped it in the air and caught it with his teeth. "It pays to make appearances. Besides, I love candy."

A tiny look between them left her right in the palm of his hand. These random flirtations always paid off with the better contracts, or inside scoops on something happening. Today was no different. "They are certainly testy in the office. Do watch your step today."

Finger laid to his lips, he wandered through the double doors into the inspiring hall of champions and heroes. Still he marveled how they not only allowed him access, but needed him for their ventures. Every assignment a contract, no matter if a village needed protecting or bandits capture. The final work completed on a previous assignment, his crew located what seemed a minor disturbance endangering trade and routes from Lumbertown to Cresentia. What they found, he brought to the powers that be.

The commanders spoke with new recruits, a group of humans and high elves, each eager to receive orders with the look of easy prey. Arawn almost choked on the looks of adoration they fawned upon others. He moved past the throngs, until finally his steps led to the far table where the real work took place.

A frazzled centurion glanced up to Arawn, a lancer's shield and weapon worn with use strapped to his back. Men and women rushed around him, offering papers, taking assignments, quick replies and requests as a team of bookkeepers took judicious notes. With a glance, he caught sight of the smuggler. "Yes?"

"Onyx Rose Company, I have our report for the Obsidian Woods bandits." Arawn held up a parchment carefully penned by Voriel, detailing every scrap of evidence and actions taken.

"Ah fine, thanks. See the petty officer for another assignment." He would have turned if not for Arawn clearing his throat.

"I have one other report, may be nothing. But we found some letters there, it didn't seem ...typical." Something in the Castanic's eyes gave pause.

Led to the side, the officer took Arawn to a man he never expected to spend much time with. Dougal, the right hand man for Samael. Arawn pulled forth a sealed parchment from a pocket, letting the commander look it over. The two officers shared looks, then considered Arawn with a deeply intense glare.

"Have you shared this with others?"

Arawn merely shook his head. "Just those with me when we found it in their base. Not your typical bandits. In fact, I'd say they seemed like a cult."

Dougal raised a hand, leaning closer to keep his words private. "This isn't the first letter of this kind found. And you are certainly not the first to report strange activities. But we are keeping the number of companies sent to investigate to a minimum."

There are moments Arawn knew were life changing, a gamble with a pay off to challenge even his avarice. This was one of those. "So gentlemen, what are we talking about?"

"We need help finding...a traitor."

Maps unfurled from rolls, each reviewed with a jeweler's monocle laid over an eye. Voriel, inspected each from the traveling merchant as if seeking something terribly specific. The further she studied in the libraries, did she realize the city of gears cared more for scholarship than the world around them. The fine professors prized their hoard of knowledge through the odd system an older man seemed to keep with a simpleton's look and memory sharper than any she had encountered. Yet, they could offer so little of what the company needed, and the flight to Allemantheia meant crossing paths with an overwrought mother who could verily well try tying her down again.

Fingers rubbing the linen weave, the texture spoke of age upon one, and falsehoods on another. The trick laid in showing interest for the cheaper forgeries and watching for a tell. Everyone lied in the trade. Everyone. And forgeries could sometimes hold a truth to them, easily tweaked with a bit of ink and travel.

Parting with far more gold than she wished, the elf finally slipped free three sizable sections. "You drive ever a difficult bargain, Dugas."

The human scratched as grimy layers of scruff, some of it longer than the rest, as if he never could quite grow in a proper beard. Or he suffered from some mange. Voriel made note to wash thoroughly.

"Seven."

"Four."

"I can't go lesser than six."

"Five then and a sampling of salves for the desert."

The man made hisses between his teeth and a bit of pick held in their snaggled spaces. "Fine. The last batch lasted well enough." They made the exchange in quick order as if unwilling to touch the other overly long.

Voriel never glanced over the finds for terribly long, lest he think she bested him in some way. Slipping them within a case, the top smacked into place with a thump. "Where next do you travel?"

"Chebika bound, elfling. You should turn your friend's eyes to the desert. There's been a strange amount of men and arms seeking a treasure. Never seen so many idiots willing to bake the ovens of silver armor."

His chuckle and words brought a sharp look. "Truly?"

"Followed by a score of mercs. Remember the black crow on scarlet rings?" Something in his eyes watched her own with a squint, a suspect look.

"Aye."

His lips set in a grim line. "Blood in the sand."

They stood for long moments, before fidgeting apart. She stood peering out across the docks. Within the hour, she ensconced herself in a booth nigh surrounded by papers held down with all manner of rock.

Shuba stood near with a glance of his unmarred eye, barking an order to the popori scouring the floor with a wiry straw broom. "Ever crevice. It's why I bought you. Close enough to the floor to find the teeth."

"Y..yes, master Shuba."

"You realize any of the Valkyon find your little stash, they shall indeed try to run you out of port." Voriel's voice lifted with an undeniable irritation.

"No vanarch's here. Never gonna happen. What's with those?" His ruin lip caught on his fanged teeth making a wheezing sound.

Quill twirling in fingers, only a grumble met his ears. A bit of weight and shadow fell as the grizzled Amani spied the markings. A clawed hand flattened over a labyrinth of marks and lines, odd symbols and crests added around it as some strange pictograph of a ritual gone array.

"Don't go there."

Voriel raised her eyes meeting the bartkeep's reptilian. "But we must."

"Arawn's getting too greedy. Stop planning, elf. Make as many potions and pray to the war goddess. You'll need it."

Before she could utter a question, he shuffled behind the bar, and out the back.

The sands of Chebika. I had not thought to see them again. The glimmering waters and red packed earth. So many thought the desert just a plain place of yellow dirty sand and limitless dunes. There is much more to the beauty, as if the earth held secrets and would hide them with every shifting breeze.

The power of these places can scour flesh from bone, hollow rocks till the whistling reminded you of ocean waves. You could walk for days with that sound, never realizing the thirst until your skin split. Thankfully I did not travel alone when scouting paths for our trip, else they would have to tie me to a horse and force me back to that blasted jungle.

Alektos never once complained. I expected nothing less than a squealing hatred and tossing of hands, or some meandering to slow our steps. But the lure of those crystal waters I think ended any frustrations. We spent many hours just whiling away on the rocks and sands. Hopefully Arawn does not find out, or he may charge us for them.

Gersaik met with me for a short time while Alektos was busy. He of course was thankful yet again, pressing palms and offering compensation. Eventually I may call him on the favor. He has long since replaced the questionable wife.

Arawn and Verael should arrive upon the morrow. It seems the Valkyon guards have a need of moving packages and freight into the deeper desert. I can imagine the horrors of that work, and the staggering losses. We may find ourselves aiding in cargo contracts soon. But why they send so many men and arms into the deep desert here is beyond me.

Aurellon has replied to my letter and has reminded me in so many stern words of my dedication to my mother's requests. But honestly, how can one ever remain a saint around Castanics so often? I have found this wonderful treat Arawn introduced me to, and cannot deny how very tasty it is. I realize it is not a simple treat, of rice and fish with a bit of spices. Yet after days of work, settling with a tray of them or Alek's chocolates are just...wonderful.

Baeshra sent word she travels with another, elf it seems. They are seeking the countryside and contracts, furthering the work Arawn started. At times the messages make his brows rise, or Verael grin wide. The friends perhaps need a fine party of their own to enjoy. Verael spoke at length of these parties, weeks on end, without memory of what happened. I still cannot quite understand the allure. I would rather hold the memory.

I have found a new ore, and word comes of a need to seek Allemantheia soon. Until we can depart for home, we must complete these contracts in the sands. So many have fallen, but we are not so sure it was bandits.

Standing upon the rocks, eyes scanned the distance of limitless crystal blue water. The sight never ceased to fascinate Voriel to see such far waves rolling in to shore. Rocks and boulders, literal chunks of mountains and hills torn apart and thrown littered the shoreline and well into the depths, a labyrinth that could easily tear apart the hull of unsuspecting ships. The kumas had perhaps lived upon these shores, slinging rocks to seek and destroy those captains attempting to near shore. The lure of humanity, their favored delicacy, drawing them further inland.

Wind salt tinged whipped at hair and clothing, leaving the elf wet and aching in the sun. Any protection applied to her skin long since worn away. A touch of pink suffused as she felt the sun sear the first layer of skin, a tiny voice in her head warning of cells blistering like a duck in an oven. She did not care.

Far in that distance, a ship listed. So far from sight, nothing less than magic or a Castanic device might have given details. Perhaps it ran afield those rocks, yet it seemed too far out for even the arm of a kumas. Yet she believed the longer she watched, keener she listened, maybe something would reach?

A sigh yet again filled her lungs and lips as she hated her lack of attention spent on her mystic's training in the realm of elements. She loved rocks certainly, and swimming in water. But those intricacies were still so difficult to grasp beyond her own intensive studies.

Sails billowed and fluttered as a scarf released and caught by the wind, the mast cracking hard and sending the ship upon its side. A distant boom shivered the air with sound to finally reach her ears. Then the ship simply exploded in careening planks and timber, bodies tossed like a doll across a room. Errant and strange to see. Another boom, so much louder yet still painfully faint echoed long after.

"Explosives?"

Alektos cracked open an eye as she laid back on the rocks. "Do what?"

Voriel nodded to the distance as another ship's outline neared far smaller than the first, now only a memory in the ocean.

"Do you think it pirates? Or the federation? Privateers?" Fingers curling into her hair, she pulled the tangled, wet strands behind her ears, still straining to witness.

"Galleon went down. The smaller a schooner." Arawn never even raised a hand to peer across, feet dangling in the waters. His fingers splayed over the splashing of water, as it licked at his palm. For a moment, only a moment, the tone seemed wistful. "We should get back with that report to the captain."

Voriel flicked her eyes down to the castanic before watching the meager details of pirates consuming the remains of their prey. "If they are near...there must be a port..."

"As I said, Captain, we deliver." Arawn gave that famous grin that colored his tone to become all the more friendly. Yet a shark laid in the eyes, so hungry for the gold coins set to a small chest.

"That you have, Tyri'da. As loath as I was to trust a Castanic, you have brought a certain appeal to these arid lands." The human had been in the desert long enough to darken golden brown in the sun. So long so, his eyes laid on the distant Voriel sitting on the stacked crates with crossed legs, just a touch of skin seen through the wrapped kaftan she favored. Pale skin, a turned ankle, high heels and dainty painted toes. It wasn't much, but left the man wondering wait laid under the cloth.

Arawn neared his side, watching and rubbing his chin. "You know, there are many contracts to be fulfilled. Your last mercenaries didn't stand a chance in this desert. It helps to have...the right touch in these sort of matters." His words laid around his ears like a prowling cat, just enough edge to keep the human captain watching the elf while tugging free contracts held down by a rock on the makeshift desk.

"The right touch indeed. So you are offering ...services?" The captain slid his eyes to Arawn, a dangerous glint in them.

That grin only widened. "Why yes. I can provide something beautiful, if you have consistent work. Think of me first, and I'll ensure you are never left wanting." The page fluttered before the captain held in Arawn's hand.

With a yank and signing, the captain ensured the company would have a year of road contracts, with the opportunity to sell flesh and booze, maybe even drugs to this little part of the world.

"I do believe we have an accord."

They shook hands only then did Voriel raise her eyes wondering just what the man was about. Shaking her head, she continued the boring list of detailed items. How Arawn could find this so...thrilling was absolutely beyond her! But at least they were far from that damned jungle.

Some gems hold a certain thrill to them. The color, clarity. Found in the deepest of caverns where earth folds upon itself. Mountains form, and age, the centuries giving a bounty of sophisticated beauty. Sometimes it is a stretch of sandy beach, offering the perfect mix of elements and heat to burn so brightly. Yet again, a fate of science.

And then, I learned, of a kind born. Literally born. It seems in the farthest frozen reaches. I never once thought the gems and stones were of a living race, yet it makes a strange if fickle sense. I may spend time with them, if ever I can spare it, to determine exactly what shall become of these "wendigo."

Perhaps it was quite ill of me to speak with him wearing a dress beaded with some of those spent crystals. Or rather, their generations dead.

Wonders never cease.

A jeweler's lens laid over one eye as Voriel held a shard that glimmered brightly in one hand. She spoke the same word over and over with differing inflections, trying to gauge if it reacted in those pulses of light in any discernible way. Could it have a language?

Thick furs muffled her from the cold, a pair of gloves over her fingers with warm mittens laid over to hold what little feeling she had left. The land was an unforgivable cold that left her stuttering as fast as her heartbeat. At times a shadow and voice neared, she could tell as Arawn only by the subject. Despite their ceaseless laughter she wore a pair of little covers for her ears.

Gripping her graphite pencil, she made quite strokes to draw out the shape of the uncut shardling. An incessent tap began on her head.

"Yes?" Voriel glanced up to Arawn still amazed and pausing in her drawing for just a moment. Why did he have to look so... Sighing, she raised her brows behind the jeweler's monocle. "Why are you not blue and frozen?"

The Castanic smirked, only in thin white leathers and bare chested in deep snow. "Can we take what you are doing on the road? We need to move on to the next stop with the goods before the winds pick up." His eyes traveled down to her hands, or so she thought.

"But of course. I need a moment to stow away everything." Her blues eyes glanced to the side and the growing stack of shards she tried to hide and basically take with her.

Kneeling on the balls of his feet, palming a few and shoving a few others into her pockets, Arawn gave a wry smirk. Maybe there was a bit of a thief in the woman? "I can help with that."

Her breath held, but she could not decided if from the cold or how near he was. Damned Castanics.

For days on their journey, the hooves of their horses plodded through the drifts. The happy seeming flakes that began as a marvel of beauty soon clumped into a heavy mess that threatened to lock everything in ice. None were safe from the hunger of this frigid chill that sneaked so slowly upon the unwary, a trail of the frozen dead left in the strangest of places along the roads or in the bottom of gullies. Even three travelers seeking the wealth of that land.

For days they moved camp to camp, a surety of purpose and riches claimed. Yet in every camp Arawn heard the promise of more gold, more contracts, leading them further into the endless frost. Rock and ice hid under wintry hills of snow, ever replenished from the banks of heavy clouds above. Rarely did the sun appear, yet those few days it glimmered left them blinded near entirely.

With every fire and camp made, Voriel tended their wounds made by beasts and environs. After she settled into her hide and studied the strange shards. As she rested, Arawn held to dreams of luxuries bound in words, founded in a tempered king's arrogance. He spoke of only a few plans, of which Alektos seemed keen to hear. Each evening, Voriel remained apart as they conversed until the third eve. Something of the pulses strengthened and lessened depending on how far they traveled. The mountains dress the brightest of pulses.

So it was they found themselves leaving the roads for hills.

The softest hum caressed Voriel's ears though the others could not catch it, mimicking the pulse of the crystal cradled in her hands. The elf hid from the cold in deep furs lost under layers of ice and snow. The longer they traveled, the more Arawn and Alektos snickered and yanked the horse ahead to cause a rain of icicles and fluff from her head.

Alektos though had enough of these hours spent in constant travel, skin and plate frozen together in terrible ways. She felt nothing in her limbs, much less her body. Reaching up a hand to her jaw, she felt her teeth chattering only by the staccato rising and falling.

"Arr rrr rrran. Fiirr rree now." The berseker jumped her horse closer to the man and beyond him, the pair glaring at the warrior with a desperate hope the sight drove fear through the intensity. When he turned his head in a slow languid stretch, the hide of some slain cat over his shoulders shrugging back to reveal the gleam of still bared skin, she could only growl the more.

"Feeling a bit...nipply then?" Her hand feebly sought the axe at her back to prove her intent. A chuckle mirrored the smirk on his lips as Arawn motioned to the distance ahead. "Fine. Scout ahead for a lean to of trees or an overhang of rock."

A flounce of snow drifted around him as Alektos spurred her horse into motion, the stallion's ears swiveling and eyes brightening with the promise of stopping soon to come. Brows furrowed, the warrior slowed Voriel's horse to a gentle halt.

Holding his hand near, he watched for a time before finally grasping the furs forming a strange dome over her. Pale glimmers of blue cascaded over the ice falling into the mystic's lap. Layers of white and black silk and wool, heavily woven to provide warmth under a blanket tucked around her crossed legs. Thick mittens a riot of faded colors cupped around shards she had stolen from the last stop.

When her eyes raised they seemed to glow a moment before she blinked. A shake of head, she focused on Arawn. "We're stopping?"

Arawn gave a nod as he shook far more snow from the hides. "Notice any change? Tell me we're closer. I don't want to go too far if--"

The shard pulsed brighter in her hand, held every steady. "I...think we are."