Journal Comments on self
Across the table from you sits a woman whose age is difficult to discern. Perhaps she is in her late 20’s. She is small in stature, curvy, but quick and extremely graceful. Her movements almost seem choreographed and calculated, but that must be your imagination. Your new friend, smiles warmly and her blue-grey eyes are friendly and open.
You know that she has few possessions and is new to your homeland, but you are too polite to bring up the question of her happiness and optimism. Instead you say “Tell me where you came from, Catherine,” and lean forward eagerly. Before she begins her tale, Catherine frowns slightly and grabs at her unruly, dark brown hair, blowing at a curl that has fallen onto her face. Her eyes turn a bit sad before they grow distant, cold and filled with dark knowledge.
The Chocolate Loving Paradise of Darkesia is a nation-a nation in a universe far from this place- a universe in decay and on the brink of death. Darkesia is home to men and women of great political savvy, deep, often secret, knowledge and many dark but necessary skills. Some citizens gain the fame of heroes among other nations, while a few gain infamy and well earned fear.
The Darkesian people are skilled chocolatiers, building entire cities of the rich confection and are known to launch into civil wars over closely held recipes. Being a nation filled with diplomats, assassins and spies, those civil wars are seldom large, military affairs, but rather they are wars of words, back room political maneuvering and the occasional “accidental death.” The most popular toast in Darkesian pubs and bistros is “May there be Peace or the swift hand of an assassin.” Darkesians do not relish war; rather they do what they must to aid outside nations to find peace at any cost.
“We do what we must, “she whispers.
Then she brightly laughs and her warm smile returns.
My world was dying. Now I am here. I have nothing, yes. But that means I don’t have duty and expectations of my behavior either. I can be what or whoever I am able to become here.
My loved ones and home are vanished beyond my reach. Therefore my constant fear for their safety is vanished. My colleagues are beyond my aid and consultation. Therefore I have no obligation to seek out duties and guilds in association with them. If I wish to be a cook, rather than an assassin, I may.
In this place, I am free.
She raises her glass with a grin and when you join her she joyfully says “TO FREEDOM!”
Many, many years ago there was a land beset by tribal warfare. The land was brought to peace with a strong conquering hand. It united the land under one banner and one, all consuming, religious fervor. The land named itself after its beloved conqueror and bound itself together in love and servitude to its new god.
After several generations the powerful priest class became corrupt and demanded more and more abject servitude from the people. They insisted that purity can only be gained by showing one’s love to their god. Of course, they said the way to show that love was to serve them, the priests of the religion. They jailed and executed any who did not fall to their knees in the presence of the priests.
These priests were lead by the most insane of them all. A direct descendant of the original conquer, he wore his family name as a crown. This wretch believed all but his god to be beneath him and forced even the arrogant priests to press their faces to the floor in his presence.
One night the wretch woke from a dream convinced that the lands needed cleansed of all impurity. And in his insane mind that meant death to any who did not serve his immediate and personal needs. He believed himself to be the only creature close enough to his god to deserve life.
The next morning as the obedient, blind people pressed their servile faces to the dirt at morning prayers, the wretch released a terrible weapon upon the lands, killing most of the population outright. The wretch, seeing what he had done became concerned for his own life and escaped with a few priests into a neighboring land.
The few survivors of this terrible act were mostly those who had been imprisoned for being disobedient and the large protected family network of the same wretched priest. As the survivors emerged, the family vowed to hunt and destroy their patriarch for the crime he had committed. Eventually, this family became successful in their task, redeeming the honor of the name.
The society did survive, though in an extremely altered state. But that is a tale for another time.
One Free heal token - Gargant
Endless Cookie tin - Gargant
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