Journal of Alyssia Kanath

[Alyssia Kanath]

The binding of this book is deep glistening black dragon skin with the seal of House Kanath embedded upon the face in glittering silver. The dragon in the standard seems to magically twist and move if looked upon too long, and if examined magically it is realized that the materials used to create the emblem are actually composed of pure elemental air...much like the same symbol upon Alyssia's sash. Bright turquoise silk ribbon sticks out from the top, working as a book mark, and a platinum latch exists, locking the book closed. If inspected, the latch glows brightly with magic, pulsing with protective wards unknown in Sosaria. The magic radiating from the book is powerful...elemental...and originating from Alyssia's home world of Barsaive.

Upon opening the book one finds the pages made of slightly yellowed parchment, signifying the age of the tome itself. Glancing at the very first entry, it is obvious that this journal was begun in the first year of Alyssia's Arbitership of her people, possibly to give her an outlet for the day to day stresses of leading an entire clan and one of the largest mercantile trading cities in her world. This means that this journal is well over 300 years old. One would think that the book would eventually run out of pages...but one of the magical properties bestowed upon this book is the gift of unlimited pages...and the writer, using a series of simple command words can jump to any page they wish and it will magically appear. If asked about the journal...Alyssia will easily tell anyone that it was a gift to her from Pauldo Argorn, elder of her clan's house of sages and record keepers.

The script is slanted and slightly messy in spots, as Alyssia was never known for her penmanship. Some pages are long and full of personal thoughts and information...some consist of only a few lines of jotted annoyances and mutterings, reflecting the Thunderlord's ever swinging moods. Pages written when she was happy and content are in relatively good handwriting and full of description, whereas pages written in the depths of depression and anger are short, crisp, and full of scrawled words that drip venom and nearly pulse with violent rage. Anyone who read the entirety of the journal would most likely be instantly struck with the realization that the writer struggles constantly with bouts of psychosis and insanity...albiet well hidden to those around her...

A few small personal treasures can be found pressed between the pages.

A lock of golden hair.

A thin silver necklace chain

a strange uniform patch torn from the arm of a jacket

various small drawings that look to have been made by a multitude of children

Three love letters, each from a different man. Aaron, Jamie, Etrirc. The one from Aaron seems to be the most handled.

A purple silken ribbon wrapped in another love letter written in Alyssia's hand to a woman named Genevieve.

A folded piece of parchment torn from a book on botany. It seems to have been handled a great deal, the folds weakened and the page tear stained.

A small, locket sized, unframed painting of Katryn exquisitely done by her daughter Fiona

Often Alyssia will carry this journal upon her person, so she can write down things that she's afraid might slip her mind. But when she's not carrying it...the book resides at her home, locked away in a magical golden chest and hidden in a secret compartment within. Only someone who knows the command to open this compartment could get at it. The book also contains wards that if anyone other than the owner were to try and open the book, they would be smoked like bacon....crispy style....

[Alyssia Kanath]

OOC: This entry is entirely IC. Aly can be a crazy bitch. *grins* Get used to it.

**This entry is scrawled in agitation and with a touch of dark amusement. The penmanship is heavy, somewhat jerky. The typical coherant and formal writing style replaced with ranting and explosive language**

Déardaoin, 28th de Eanáir

Fiona told me all about her little meeting with Aedon.

Laughable. Asinine. Unfortunate.

First, he tells her that Sage is not gone. Which means she irresponsibly shut Fiona off and out, and for what? We have yet to really even know the truth of it.

I loved that woman like a sister. And then she took my daughter's life, her memories, her ...sanity in her hands with the promise that she loved Fiona as well. That she would give her this cherished position out of that love and protect my daughter in every capacity that such a position, given it's vulnerability (both Fiona's and hers!) due to it. Fiona was her dreamer. Few know the intimacy of such a relationship. And the consequences of it being severed.

And then it all got flushed down the privy with a bucket of slop. Thank the Goddess that She was taken in before her enchantment wore off. The fear she felt, of losing her memory of everything Fae over the past years, terrified her. And rightfully so! Knowing how Fiona cherishes her memories of the Fae. ESPECIALLY of Sage, who she loved dearly, the thought of her losing such a large chunk of her life. Such a happy one. I was afraid the experience would completely unhinge the girl.

Sage is fortunate her folly did not cost my family so much. For I would have enlisted an army of every enemy to the Fae I could find to tear it into it's foundations. Find a way to open the door to it's Balefire and invite every banal creature. Every dark conciousness that holds within the flames of it's malace a hunger for the destruction of the very weave of glamour through that door and towards it's endless extinguishing and revel in the chaos and destruction with nary a tear to the eye.

IRRESPONSIBLE! Bordering on traitorous!

I do not take betrayal to those I love lightly.

She will be even luckier if I do not cut her down the next time I see her! It will take all the control I can muster.

Then....THEN...when Fiona mentions how the children are not allowed into Aegis, Aedon feigns hurt? Oh...he may be hurt now...but it did not dawn on him that initially it was BY HIS OWN REQUEST!

“Do not allow the children in Aegis until the Liches are no longer a threat.”

Well HE OPENED THE GODS BE DAMNED DOOR!

And he calls me senile. The old fool. His loyalty. His friendship. It wavers like a silk thread in gale winds. If someone or something confuses his addled brain he lashes out at it with tooth and slicing tongue. And yet he calls me on doing the same? HA! At least I don't accuse people of shit they aren't even guilty of. Beleg a drunkard? SERIOUSLY?

**The last word shakily scrawled as if she was laughing as she wrote it**

No, even his own request is not the reason. I do not trust him with members of my family. I don't trust him at all. He hurt Fiona. That was all it took. I will not give him access to any more precious of our brotherhood or my line.

I don't give a flying rat-fuck about his precious little tavern. He can keep it. I never wanted it. Fiona was proud of what he had given. Proud to be a caretaker if the time ever arose. It brought her joy that someone would have faith in her. And yet it was revoked without word or care. And we had to find out second hand no less! When the words were whispered sadly to me...I was shocked.

NOR do I care for their failing illusion of “Aegis”. This is not Aegis. This is not once was. There is no honor, there. Not any longer. What it is now flies in the very faces of the Knights of Yew. And worse yet...the very CORE of what was Shadowmoor. My brethren defended Shadowmoor for generations...along beside the Shadow Rangers who were our brothers and sisters, but as a promise to Nathan when they faded to the mists. I have allowed too much. I have been reticent in my duty. To my promise to my dear brother Nathan Longbow. But every time....the land reclaims itself. Much like the Spiritwood does. Every rule, Every unstable mockery that sits in "rulership" of those woods eventually comes to an end. I have been patient to wait it out. But my patience is near an end.

The land will be cleansed.

One way...

or another.

[Alyssia Kanath]

For this entry, Alyssia seems to be in one of her more lucid moods. A quiet grief and longing in her words as she writes slowly the memories.

Dé hAoine, 4th de Feabhra,

The show went on. After the Lich were run off, Aedon thought it best to continue with the stories for the sake of the patrons who remained. I saw the look on little Chryssie's face when she thought that she had attended for naught. I was glad that he decided to pursue it anyway, it made the child happier. I can never stand to see sadness or disappointment in any of the cubs eyes.

I haven't participated in anything like that for a long while. I usually don't care to stand up in front of people and do such a thing. That was my brother Jerec's talent, not mine. When we were children he taught me the art of entertainment. We would both do street performances for coin out of a sense of fun. Our parents approved of the pass-time, as da' told us it would build character. So, out of a sense of adoration for my dear older brother I was taught to sing, to dance, and play the fiddle and lute. But the true love of such things was his to embrace, not mine.

I especially don't compete. I feel such things inane and a waste of my time. I am old enough now that I do not feel the need to do such a thing. Be it in entertainment or martial tournaments.

But something compelled me, as I listened to the stories of love and longing, to stand and speak. I don't know why. Especially to share a tale so close to my heart. But I did.

Perhaps it was my beloved Aaron who urged me from beyond the veil. He was always encouraging me to do such things. I remember as he would stand to the side and watch quietly with the softest of smiles upon his lips as I would tell stories to the children. Play for them my fiddle in our private chambers from within the estate. I remember well their wide, smiling eyes and giggles as they would beg me each night to reg-ail them with tales of my past adventures.

I would occasionally look up to him and my husband and I would share quiet, tender glances as we shared our love for one another in those gentle moments of family. Those were the days of my life when I felt more peace than I have ever since experienced.

It was difficult to share those memories, especially in a room of those who I did not know well enough. Oh sure I did some. But few there knew me so intimately. I wonder if anyone even realized I had been talking about myself. I tried to wipe the emotion from my face and my voice but it proved too difficult.

Oh Aaron I miss you so. Especially in these times where your quiet, wise council would be the one thing that grounded me. Oh how many distant rulers have their lives owed to my husband in those days! Diplomacy was something I had to learn. To him, a man of balance and peace, it came naturally.

I remember the day I first laid eyes upon him. Kneeling there beside Skywing after we had rescued my future griffon mount from a cruel trader who had wounded his wings considerably so he could not escape. The Watchers had found us, and their ancient pact with my people bloomed again to life as they found the rumors of Clan Stormwind perhaps rising again under a new Arbiter. They had found us, not the other way around.

He was not overly tall nor strong. In fact if I remember correctly he and I were about the same height. Soft dark brown hair tied back into a tail as he slowly rose from his kneeling position. When his eyes cast upon me, I gasped audibly. So did he. The ancient rites slammed into our bodies like an explosion of sensation. Memories filled us. Memories I could not place. I knew him. But not in this life. I knew him from a distant time.

I stared in wonder, like that of a child as his dark forest eyes seemed to swallow me whole. My heart pounded and I became so frightened. Frightened of a man? Ha! No...frightened of this alien feeling that I could not explain and did not care for. I felt...vulnerable... And I hated it.

I wouldn't let him near me for almost a month. Every time our paths crossed, and they did often as his Watchers pledged their oaths to my Clan and began helping me and the rest of the council build our army to go against Khelendrose. I made every excuse not to speak with him, or be alone in a room with him.

He knew I was running. And he was patient. By the Goddess he was patient. He knew our connection. I, did not. For he was mo Anam Cara. My soul mate. And he was mine. Since the beginning of our Clan, the Goddess had ordained that Clan Stormwind and the Watchers's destinies be forever entwined.

He had cornered me in one of the meeting tents in camp. I knocked over two tables and a weapon stand backpedaling from him as he slowly closed in on me. I begged him to go. I stuttered. I lost my breath. I told him no. But he was relentless. And as he finally got close enough and reached out to touch my face, our auras slammed into one another. And then they seemed to envelop us both, a thrumming vibration overtaking both our bodies. I could only stare as he smiled knowingly and said in the softest of whispers, “Feel this and know it to be true, Alyssia. For we are meant to be as one. I love you. I will wait for you until the end of eternity. But you must know the intensity of what we are meant for...” Like the souls of two great predatory animals twisting around one another, growling and purring, rubbing against one another's deepest and most intimate places our energy fields circled about one another. All I knew, I was suddenly in his arms. They wrapped around me and I felt safe. Few men ever have made me feel safe. But I was. I vaguely remember crying out in confusion and ecstasy as the merging of our souls gave one final push before the feeling dissipated and left us both breathless.

Ha! Jhadira and Erik rushed in along with two guards, wondering what was going on. All they saw was me in his arms, flushed, gasping. And his eyes sparkling with a happiness that I saw until the end of his life. Jhadira smiled softly and tugged the others away. As High Questor of House Martik she was well versed in our rites. She knew in her prophecy that this was the intended path. Erik, for his part, glared in jealousy at just one more thing he could not have along with the Arbitership of our people. He was the last to be torn from his spot and out of the tent.

From that day on, Aaron and I were rarely apart. After the War of Reclamation we were married. And I was deliriously happy. He stepped back, not wishing control or power. He was there to support me in the rebirth of our Clan. He took my name. Never once did he ever try and take the spotlight away from me. And each night, no matter how tired or stressed or upset I may be from the day to day business of leading a people and rebuilding our great city of Zakhar he would enfold me in his embrace and soothe my soul. He kept me so grounded.

Connor was born first. Then the twins. Shana and Caitlyn. We were a happy family. Until Connor was thirteen. That was the day my world collapsed....

*Many tear stains are upon this portion of the page. Smudges of ink and the words are written more shakily*

I can not speak of it. Not again. Passions....why did I do this? Why...? I'm terrified...but tempted to flip back into this book to those dark days for the first time since they happened... Can I? Must I? Goddess help me....but my soul aches....