260th of Scion, 1325AE

Too tired... notes to self..

• Searched villages for Bataar and Talus
• Went to Ashford to kill shit
• Ordered Bataar to take some days off.

217th of Scion, 1325AE - Family

*SNAP*
“GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” In a flash of movement, a broken quill flew across the small room and struck the metal wall with a slight twang. The two pieces, split roughly in two, were left where they fell out of spite from the charr who had tossed them. Karra harrumphed and shifted in the seat at her desk as she pulled out a replacement. This thing.. she would conquer it just as she conquered all the obstacles that have stood in her path. With a grunt, she dipped the new quill in her ink well and began a new page...

My “father” was a traitor to charr before I was even born. I had no say, no chance, and his weakness curses me from afar.

Before my mother and father met, they were not of the same legion. Mother, Kaelar Strikeblade, was of Blood Legion with every aspect of her being. She fought for the legion, bled for the legion, and would have died for the legion just like any respectable charr. Her loyalty and honorable actions make me forget the mistake she made with my father.

Just thinking of him makes my blood boil and horns itch.

Father was of the Iron legion though a poor inventor and soft of heart. How he seduced my dame is beyond me. Nevertheless, my parents were in love. An odd type of love where they thought more of each other than of their warbands.

Traitors...

When my mother grew with cub, my father convinced her to elope with him into the Diessa Plateau. Before leaving, he publicly announced his desertion to his warband and spit in his legionnaire’s face. Mother howled at the sight for it meant surely her family would cast her out just for associating with such a coward. Without waiting to face the humiliation, she left immediately with father.

Karra quickly placed down the quill before she snapped this one as well. A long, overdue sigh escaped from her muzzle as she rested her forehead in her paws. Memories began to swim inside her head and the bottled up emotions slowly began to escape from their cages.

“Mother...” she whispered silently, hiding her feelings in that single word. She was charr, she did not feel human sentiment for family, but the damage her father had done was a deep scar. Resolutely, Karra picked up her quill and began again. 

At the time of our birth, my twin and I entered a lonely world. We lived high in the mountains with only our parents to care for us. At first, I must begrudge that I found no faults with our way of life, but mother soon blessed me otherwise. She spoke of the charr in such high regard, I would always ask her to why we would leave such a great world. She would stop her story, frown, and then bark at me to go practice my swords. Father, on the other hand, did his best to belittle charr society at every turn when mother wasn’t looking. Auror latched onto father like a tick and he swelled up with father’s love.

Then the best and worst day of my life happened.

As we slept, father’s warband invaded our home. They came in at a rage, smashing our things and calling for the Deserter. Father tried to escape, but mother grabbed him by the scruff and knocked him down at the feet of his warband. The look of utter betrayal on his face somewhat pleased me. 

Auror looked away as they chopped off his head in our den.

For a moment, the Iron legion warband seemed to consider attacking mother, but she growled loudly at them, baring her teeth. The Legionnaire mumbled something about us going to the fahrar and mother promptly replied that her cubs wouldn’t join Iron while she still breathed.

Nevertheless, the warband offered to escort us back to the Citadel.

Karra stared at the pages written before her and laid down her quill. How far would one go when writing these journals? She wasn’t quite sure. Leaning back, she smoothed her mane down on top of her head as she stared at the dent in the metal on her ceiling. Auror...where was that maggot now? Karra snorted, grabbing her quill.

Before we reached the gates, a group of grawl attacked the warband. The battle was little more than a skirmish, but at some point during the fight, Auror ran off into the wilderness. That day both Mother and I were confused. Deep down in our hearts we weren’t sure if we wanted chase after him or not. When the warband regrouped, we spent the rest of the day trying to track down the blasted scrub, but there had been no rain recently and he weighed so little, he made little tracks.

Karra paused, unsure if she wanted to write what her heart told her. Did she feel remorse for her brother? The charress wasn’t sure. 

As soon as Mother and I entered the citadel, she led me directly to the Blood fahrar with Primus Korax. I flourished under his tutelage and my years flowed like a sweet honey to me.

Finally, I was among my own kind instead of cooped up in the middle of nowhere.

On the eve of when my band would be titled, I had been heading back from a particularly enjoyable bar fight. When I turned the corner, a ghost stood before me. The years had aged everything about him save for his eyes. Those loving eyes...

Karra shivered in her chair.

Auror spoke of family bonds, of love, of sadness, of sorrow... concepts I cared little for and never thought twice about ignoring. He wished for me to join him on a quest to explore the world. “I miss you,” he said, “I miss your blunt personality as those around me nowadays are far too slippery for my liking.” Briefly, I wished to burst out laughing at his jokes, remembering such times when we had grown up... but I did not.

For a long moment I stared at him. A younger version of the same charr that had took us away from our people and aimed to keep it so. When Auror opened his arms for me, I froze. A demon inside me remembered his embrace when we’d be each other’s protector, how warm it had felt...how safe. With great force, I cut the emotion from me and spat on the ground in front of him. The look on his face caused a smile to etch itself upon my maw.

I have not seen him since that day. Nor do I wish to see him ever again and to be reminded of that poison called love.

The charr closed the fresh leather bound pages and cleaned her quill silently. It was late. Tomorrow she would be leading her warband against the ghosts of Ascalon for the upteenth time. As she got up, she blew out the candles in the room and the room fell into a comforting darkness.

217th of Scion, 1325AE - The Grim

Karra eyed the open letter on her desk, reading its contents for the hundredth time. It had been confusing to say the least, but the lack of detail did not halt her that this morning. Decisively, the charr dipped her quill in her ink well to start the first page of her journal.

The day I met the Grim Warband was an... interesting one. The first Grim I met was outside our barracks. I was training Barar during our off-duty as I have been since I initiated him into the Scar.

Barar was only freshly out of the fahrar when we first met. His young warband had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and it was the Scar passing by that which saved the Night from complete annihilation. It was then that I got the scar that runs down my left side... Fucking Ettins coming out of bloody nowhere. You’d think something THAT tall wouldn’t be hard to miss.

Karra sighed and turned the page.

Anyway, the first that I met was Rragar Grimblade. He was relatively tall for a male charr and well-built. However, he wore the most uncharr-like armor I’ve ever seen. I had to keep myself from laughing too hard at the flashy get-up. Nevertheless, when he challenged me, he agree to remove the ridiculous thing and fight me with only his weapons. Oh it was a nice adrenaline rush, but the male couldn’t keep up with my dexterity. And some say females should go back to just making cubs and cooking.

She chuckled outright before continuing.

Once his pride was patched back up, he gave this speech about joining some guild or trade union. To be honest, I wasn’t really that interested. My sights were on being a tribune.

Nevertheless, I took the scrap of paper he handed me and headed down to the ruins to where which the paper had indicated.

I never visit the Ruins of Rin. Don’t see much of a point, it’s a -human- ruin after all. Who gives two shits about their leftovers?

It was down there in that creepy pit that I met up with the second, Aquesta Grimheart. She was a curious little thing, younger than me, but held a certain confidence. If she hadn’t been a necromancer, I might have grown to like her. 

She told me more about the Blade and how it seemed to run. Now my interest had been perked. This Blade would be a perfect way to sharpen my skills. She tested me in her own fashion and I destroyed three of the minions she set on me. The fourth I tossed off into the ruins, ahahha. 

Unlike Rragar, Aquesta seemed interested in answering my questions. Most of the time when I asked something, there was more to ask about though. And it was then I learned the worst part of the Blade.

Humans.

Those disgusting, flower-picking, god-worshiping bags of meat were going to be in the Blade too. Oh and that’s not the best part, some of them would be HIGHER ranked than me. Aquesta earnestly told me I’d have to listen to their orders!

The charress laughed so hard she had to flip the page for she smeared her ink on the current one.

If any human decided to order me around, higher rank in Blade or not, they’d better watch their back.

Now the third, Urok Grimjaw, he was some piece of work. Definitely, didn’t seem the age that Aquesta put him to, but she was young, maybe everything felt old to her. Well save for me. She and Rragar commented on my age... saying that I was a -young- legionnaire. What rock did they crawl out under? Meh. Not important.

Me being me, I decided to stick my foot into two doors in the Blade; the Battalion and the Armory. For the Armory, I’d have to create a piece of armor. However, that wasn’t going to happen. Now I’m great with a blade... but I can’t create shit. Now if you want me to repair it, I’ll do that. I find more passion in returning things to their original state so I’ll leave the creativity to those who have it.

For the rite, Urok gave me one of the most damaged pieces of metal I’d ever seen. Apparently despite the holes, dents, and cracks, the wearer had miraculously survived whatever decided to beat him up that badly. Nonetheless, I repaired the armor. Took me the rest of the day in fact. It surprised me that when I set my tools down, Aquesta was there waiting. Surely she had at least done something? To each his own. We discussed more about the Blade.... but I was getting to the point where I started to realize this whole get up just didn’t scream me. I couldn’t be a soldier again after almost 20 years in battle, especially since I was a legionnaire. That necromancer, I do commend her for putting up with my shit, took every insult I threw at her Blade... Aquesta offered a position as a “Outrider”. A scout type supply officer. It was perfect, I could use my warband for advantage in both the Legion and the Blade. 

Now I can officially call myself of the Blade.

Karra put down her quill and fingered the amulet around her neck. Interesting days lay ahead.