Lacrimadia Journal

From Arsmagica

Current revision as of 08:01, 4 July 2007

Winter, 1215

Met with V. (SPM!) Such a kind and gentle man, despite his size, but with such a powerful presence! [ED: Explicit musings on Vir Mons redacted.] Renewed optimism for our future prospects in the north.

Fengheld sent 1000£ silver and two grogs. Redcap came with V.: Tanner. Keep forgetting he's underfoot, looks very useful, unreliable. Seems like he'll do anything for money or vis, must remember that. V. says H. of Mercere doesn't trust him. If we treat this man well, perhaps he will prove himself to us. If he can grow accustomed to the strength of my Gift (and V.'s), he would well be our greatest asset.

Irencillia is sending "magical equipment" with H. (says the letter). Do they expect us to outfit our labs with their faerie folderol? Or do they mean faerie devices that will pop with fire and light when we pull the string and scatter heinzelmännchen throughout the covenant? And why is H. so cold in her letters to me? Faerie maga. I bet she hasn't aged at all since her Oathday. Bitch.

Crintera gave us vis: nearly eight queens, of every Technique and Form! Wonder what they expect from us in return. Apprehensive about L. Must disguise my dislike of her. These Mystery magae think they're so superior! Will try for sake of covenant. M. says Bjornaers are easily manipulated, but I'm no good at that sort of guile. C. says to try to find common ground. Does Crintera expect something of her, too?

M. is giving us our pick of the library. She is so generous! How will we ever repay her.

Spring, 1215

Everyone's met together in the same place now. We are resolved. The barge leaves tomorrow.

H. and L. are not so bad.

* * *

Succumbed to V. on the barge. I feel so dirty, like a white cloth stained black with blood. It's a delightful feeling. I wish I could write to M. and tell her all about it. Pity she's so prudish. But oh, remember: [ED: explicit descriptions redacted]

* * *

Day 11 I think I'm going to die of exposure to this filth. This is the most abominable journey I can possibly imagine. I'm stuck in a closet with L. and C. and about a hogshead of manure. Everything smells like animal. Constantly sick from the motion of the water. I seriously want to kill these friekken mares. Will go and get some fresh air. Better now. Gave one of the sailors the bloody flux.

Day 13 I will never again be clean. My hair feels like a broody goat's culus. I think the mares have stopped crying, but C. keeps suggesting murderous activities that are not helping my mood. Maybe I will slit their throats, just to shut him up. I think V. sunk that pirate ship! By Saint E., I wish we could have gotten close enough that they could hear my voice. I would have made sure those bastardi died screaming.

* * *

We have reached the covenant. H. would not rest until the hall was clean. While she was outside and L. was exploring the forest, V. and I quickly celebrated our arrival next to the fire. [ED: more of her explicit prose redacted.] So tired.

* * *

Signum, Theoderich and Pancrestis are dead, though only one corpse (P.) in the grave. Everyone was attacked and killed. We seem to be in mortal peril. Now Corvis is hungry. When a monster attacked us in the forest, V. and L. fought it off. Some mutated human corpse? Seeing them in action was breathtaking. L. tore open its chest in a bloody fountain, and V. wields an axe even better than he wields his [ED: redacted]. I will spend the rest of spring studying the corpse of the creature. It should yield great insights into my studies of the Art of the Body. V. might help too.

C. says L. wants to talk to me about improving our covenant, but only through him. Ugh, how annoying. Nothing like images of intestines and eyeballs thrown into a serious discussion about our long-term prospects. Oh stop that! Stupid bird. Yes, he is, he's always going on about the taste. I'll try to stall her until we can speak as a group.