Category: Journal Entry

Journal Entry – Inquisition

The Inquisition is here, and they are here in force. They hold the Owl’s nest. People could not keep their mouths shut and they know if not everything, then close enough to it to damn us all. If we do nothing about them, then the best we can hope for is horror and watching friends and family murdered after we have defeated Chiropoler. I don’t see a good way out. At least with Chiropoler our choice is simple, we destroy the monstrosity or we die. So let’s take a look at our options.

Throw ourselves on the Mercy of the Inquisition, and repent for our so called sins.
If we do this, we might be able to save the most devout Benalians. There is a chance that doing this would save myself, Sophie and Julienne. Doing this would also doom any of the Circle who couldn’t flee, including Pascal. Not to mention that Sophie would never stand for it. Doing this is a Cowards option.

Flee the inquisition before Chiropoler is defeated.
If we delay until the inquisition is fully engaged fighting Chiropoler, we will have our best chance. To flee. If they are hurt enough in the fighting they might not even be able to properly pursue us. That could give us enough of a head start to separate and get to some kind of safety. The only upside is that this present a reasonable short term chance for most of Louisant to survive.

I have concerns about this option. The inquisition defeating Chiropoler is by no means certain without our aid. While they are no doubt capable warriors, they do not have the experience we do in fighting our way through Chiropoler’s body. We cannot leave until we know that an awake Chiropoler is not left behind us. If the inquisition does win, I suspect they would come after us all the harder for letting them fight it alone while we ran. This also feels like a cowards choice.

Flee the inquisition after Chiropoler is defeated.
It is possible that the fight against Chiropoler might do enough damage to the inquisition, that we stand a chance of escaping afterwards. With sufficient preparation, we might be able to flee to safety. Fleeing gives us a chance to preserve life without sacrificing inquisition lives.

The problem with this plan is that a focused inquisition would have a much easier time running us down. We must assume that they have the advantage in terms of logistics and communication. We also only have a vague idea of where we can flee safely. There is no guarantee that waiting to flee will work. Of the available plans this has one of the lowest chances of working. However, it is ethically acceptable, and is one we can at least attempt.

Convince the inquisition that we are right.
This is possible in theory. Anything is possible in theory. If this was to work, it would be the best option both from a moral and a practical standpoint. Practically speaking, our chances of pulling this off are nonexistent, laughable really. Even trying is likely to bring about the worst response from the inquisitors.

Fight the Inquisition.
We could fight, even being significantly outnumbered. We have potential allies they would not be prepared for and we know the land. We also have capabilities they will not be prepared for. Mages, the rites of the circle, recovered ancient weapons, newly designed weapons and whatever capabilities are still hidden from me. I think we would have a chance against what they have in Luisant.

But this is a bad plan. People would die on both sides, and I find the very concept of killing Benalians for our own benefit repugnant. Even if it would be self defense. I also know Sophie would hate it. Worse than that, I don’t think it would do any good. Even a clear victory would just bring more and more people hunting for us. Eventually we would lose. This should only be a last resort, and only to buy time to implement a better plan.

Throw the Inquisition after a better target.

If we could convince the Inquisition that there is a better target, they might leave us alone, at least for a time. This plan has many problems. First, the inquisition will not be easily fooled. Any target we send them after will need to be real. The only viable targets I can think of are Chriopoler, the Werewolves, the Spider Vecatrans and the Vecatran traders. Beyond Chrioploler and the werewolves, I don’t believe revealing any of those groups would be practical or ethical.

To an extent this is what we are already doing with Chriopoler, as they have to prioritize a resurrected Witch King over anything else. Most other plans will take time to implement and will benefit from distracting and delaying the Inquisition. So if we need to buy time beyond focussing on Chiropoler we should let them know about the werewolves.

Restore the Mists.

This is probably the best overall solution, especially if we can manage any control of the mists. It preserves our way of life, holding the community together. Of course I have no idea how we can accomplish this. We know very little about the original creation of the mists, beyond the fact that it involved both Benalian priests and a Vecatran circle.

Even given our ignorance, I think we need to pursue this goal while also expecting to need to follow another plan.

The market had been a bit chaotic. So many new faces. So many expressions of fear on the familiar ones. A general feeling of a noose tightening. Disquieting rumors of things done in the woods. Unfortunate tales of monstrosities awakening, and then being put once more to slumber. There had been a teen girl filled with bees that had said lil Hughie an’ Lou-net had done it. There had been a vision of the future, old cycles starting again. Of pain and death. A bespeckled gal who had wanted to teach one of the chillins how to be a lady. Giant flesh tentacles, like leeches the size of buildings.

Chaotic. All over the place, really. But the stand out had been the effect of the inkysishun coming to the valley.

For years, they’d been a boogey man of sorts. ‘Don’t snitch on your neighbors, or the inkysishun will come and burn everyone alive’. It had been the chief concern of his flock when considering properly joining the children of the forest with the children of the lion. It hadn’t seemed real, so many figments of the night proved to be just that.

But they were here now. And they seemed to come to purge this place with fire. Many of the most stalwart of his friends, those he looked up to and admired, were making terrible choices in the wake of this news. Many planned to leave as fast as they could. Some planned to hide. Some planned to plead innocent. For the Friar’s plan, he intended to climb the burning pyre himself before anyone in his community was lit aflame.

It all seemed so dreamlike and… meaningless. Why were humans lining up to butcher one another over petty differences when anyone with eyes to see could clearly tell the dangers that surrounded them? Did they not hear the voice of God soothing them? Whispering that we were all once cut from the same cloth, and it was to that cloth we must return? That these sorts of fears and disputes and conflicts drove a greater wedge between humans, when the whole purpose of humanity was to unite?

The preacher sighed to himself and began his long walk once more. The great beast had been put to sleep once more; they had bought some time. Time for him to travel. To… see his beloved home, very likely for the last time. He could feel his Purpose fast approaching, and while it should be terrifying, he was frankly elated. Henri only had a murky idea of what was to be expected of him, and he was just terribly relieved that it had fallen to him rather than his loved ones.

Soon it would be time to see this thing through.

It was a strange thing, to largely being able to ignore pain, but keenly aware of an irritation. It was the same with being afraid. He didn’t really get afraid anymore, but he felt concerns and worries. Those feelings were like cousins, or seemed rooted in the same bucket of… stuff.

The Friar hadn’t slept in months. Instead, he walked and prayed. Sometimes alone. Sometimes with someone wandering the countryside. Sometime with a family that he just happened upon. It didn’t really matter. He just walked and walked and walked. He was supposed to tend to the fringe anyway, so he did just that. All the while, the back of his mind replayed the last market over and over. It shouldn’t hurt, this feeling of being alone again. But it did smart a bit.

Dwelling on it wasn’t something the preacher could afford, so he just keeps walking.

“You were appointed what?”

“That’s right,” Valko hummed, chest puffed out. “Reeve of Trade.”

Ianthe rolled her eyes. “Ugh.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. It means someone recognized my importance around here.”

“Teles certainly is generous…or desperate.”

Valko only sounded a little indignant. “Well, there’s been a growing need to organize the trickle of outsiders passing through Luisant, what with the Mists growing weaker.”

“At least you won’t go wandering off in them again.” Ianthe scoffed under her breath before admitting, “It is troubling, though.”

“Yeah,” Valko fretted. “Things have been rather hectic.”

Even if he believed he was competent enough, there was still a thread of insecurity that wove itself through him. Yet he clung to the feeling of being helpful, wishing to contribute all he could, especially when his superiors were busy with more pressing matters.

“Well maybe it will finally manage to keep you out of trouble. You may even come to be respectable– if you’re not careful.” Ianthe teased before a realization dawned on her. “Aren’t you not supposed to handle coin?”

Valko was, unfortunately, often in the habit of embracing the new, especially with so much change happening around him. He sought it out frequently. His passion had always oscillated between the archaic wisdoms of the past and those that the future held out as a lure. Presently, his inner pendulum had swung to the latter. It wasn’t like he was the only Vecatran to find allure in the modern, either. So much change wouldn’t really affect him, would it?

Still, Valko was not keen on losing his mind this early in life. He’d at least hoped for another decade or so before that happened.

“Uhm, well, technically yes. I mean, I can handle things in a pinch, but if it becomes a regular thing, I could really use-“

“My help?” Ianthe asked. “After everything, you want me to do favors for you?”

“Yes, exactly, you get it!”

“I don’t know,” Ianthe mused, checking her nails. “Why should I?”

Valko stooped just enough to look up pleadingly at Ianthe. “Pleaaaase? I can make sure you get your pick of fine goods before anyone else.”

Ianthe raised a brow.

“After the town is provided for. Great spirits, you think so low of me?”

A beat of silence hung over the two for a moment.

“Okay, yes, fair point,” Valko waved his hand, before taking a more sincere tone. “Please? It would mean so much to me.”

Ianthe regarded him sternly before a smirk twitched her lips. “Fine, I can help you.” 

Valko lit up. “You always were such a peach! Thank you!”

He reached to embrace her, but Ianthe shoved him away, turning in a huff. “You owe me!”

Valko stood there stupidly as he watched her stomp away. More-so than any semblance of pride at his new responsibilities, it was the ever so subtle softer look in Ianthe’s eyes that truly lifted his spirits.

I am new to faith.

From what I understand, there are many gods in the world, formed through the faith of people over time. For whatever reason, humans are better at channeling their faith into the world than other creatures, such as elves, and can do so much more quickly.

Benelians follow a spirit that seeped through the cracks in reality and merged with a white lion, led by priests devoted to various task-related archangels.

Vecatrans theoretically follow a spirit of nature which they seek to honor, led by a group of priests called Mothers who interface with a person who used to be human but is now merged with a spirit called a Crone, who communicates with the spirits on their behalf.

For most of my life, I thought that these religions were a method of control that “leaders” used to ensure people fell in line. For some, that was Father Vellete, Father Clement, Cheveille, and the like. They came with expectations of following a proscribed path. They knew best and would dictate that path to others in a way that none really disputed.

As those people have fallen away, replaced by Granny Jo, Isabella, Sophie, Henri, and Etienne, it has become much clearer that they are doing their best but also failing along the way to a degree unseen by those who came before. They even change fundamental truths about the faiths of the area to accommodate difficult realities which were in conflict with prior iterations. With a less clear understanding of the faith, I imagine that this will muddle the spirits and their power over time, much in the way we have struggled to properly shape Primus.

Yet in a world where faith is so mutable and the realities of our situation so harsh, it is foolish not to turn to our creations for strength.

The story of Primus is unlike the other faiths of Luisant. Primus is born of several things, primarily a spirit of the Red Stag which watched over the forests of Luisant and the spirit of those in the area who have suffered for the hunger of the adversary. The adversary has brought great suffering, consuming lives, hope, and faith, but from that suffering, a new force emerged.

Primus represents the resilience and defiance of the people of Luisant. Unlike the rigid doctrines of the Benelians or the mystical reverence of the Vecatrans, Primus embodies the adaptable and indomitable spirit of the oppressed who refuse to be broken. Our faith in Primus is not about blind obedience or ancient rituals that we have long forgotten the reasons for; it’s about survival, unity, and the shared strength of a community determined to protect its own.

I have seen the toll that blind faith in gods and corrupted spirits takes on people. I’ve watched as once devout followers of the Benelians falter and as the Vecatrans lose themselves in their futile attempts to appease the Crone. But Primus is different. Primus is a god of our making, a manifestation of our collective will and determination. We feed Primus with our memories, our struggles, and our victories, forging a god that is as resilient and determined as we are.

When we call upon Primus. It is not as a supplicant begging for mercy, but as a co-creator, channeling our rage, defiance, and hope into something greater than myself. The rituals we perform are not mere traditions; they are acts of empowerment, binding us to Primus and to each other, building our legacy for the future with our memories and intent.

As I stand with my family, House Chanceux, I see in their eyes the same fire that burns within me. We are bound by more than blood or circumstance; we are united by our shared faith in a god that truly understands our plight because it is born from it. Together, we will shape Primus into a force capable of standing against anything that would seek to control or destroy us. In this mutable world, where so many have failed us, we have created something that will not. Primus is our legacy, our protector, and through our faith, we will see Luisant endure and thrive.

*Laying in a meadow looking at the clouds*

*Sigh*

What the fuck even happened? Everyone was on the same page. Pierre was going to take on a curse in order to cleanse the grove of corruption. It was decided and done. But then Etienne just decided kill a folkwise spirit on the behest of the fucking werewolves to resolve it? Hadn’t we spoken to the spider crone who said that doing so might be a ploy by the werewolf crone to empower the werewolf crone? So he isn’t too keen on working with the Benalians to work on town problems he doesn’t see as affecting him, but he will work with the fucking werewolves? So it will be easier for them to hunt and kill us? I honestly hope he doesn’t think that just because he believes in this truce the circle has with the wolves that the wolves believe they owe us any thought. He is supposed to lead us, but I haven’t heard from anyone in the circle who actually understands what he was hoping to accomplish.

The circle should be preparing to leave Luisant. I don’t know how they expect to keep their activities a secret when the mists vanish. I know they have an attachment to the land and the grove, and I understand their desire to try to keep the spirits around as long as possible, but we are going to be killed. And the spirits have said that their strength is weakening with the mists and they won’t be able to manifest anyway. I understand the spirits are manifestations of Vecatra, but they are not Vecatra herself, and we must remember while we revere the spirits, we worship Vecatra. Vecatra is more than just Luisant. I don’t even know how much we should be paying heed to the spirits. They hold power, but their word isn’t law. They don’t understand humans and what we need. They just understand their domain. I just feel like we have given them too much. Instead of keeping balance with the forest, sometimes it feels like some in our circle have given themselves up to the forest without question. Given the spirits too much power. And maybe that is the way to be a good Vecatran, but it doesn’t feel correct. The way they were begging for Ash to come back, and willing to give in to her demands, even if they were unreasonable. I guess there was some negotiation because we didn’t kill the Benalians. But if it was her choice to leave because the way we were progressing as a people was so against who she is as a being, then why not just let her leave?

I just. I just feel so disconnected from them. I don’t want to disappoint Ma or Pa. And I have tried to be a good Vecatran. I have tried to be there for the circle and attend the gatherings. Just don’t understand how they think. I don’t understand how they believe. I understand tending to the earth and respecting Vecatra’s gifts. But I don’t understand the spirits. I don’t understand the rituals. I don’t feel Vecatra outside of the earth or the trees or the stones. Just how I don’t understand the Benalians. They speak of God and angels and meaning and purpose, and I don’t understand what they mean. It is like they can feel something I can’t. At least with Vecatra I can feel her under me. How can you feel an Angel? It’s not like you can visit them. So I guess I am a Vecatran? Maybe not a good one, but maybe that is what I am. It’s just the point of a circle seems to be about feeling connected in our beliefs and connected to each other, and I feel so hopelessly disconnected.

Cadence is talking about leaving Luisant when all is said and done. Maybe I will leave with her and Milo. Maybe I just need to get out of here and understand more of the work. She says I don’t need to stop being Vecatran. And maybe I don’t. But can you be a Vecatran just on your own? And can I call myself one if I don’t keep up with the practice and worship? I would be a Maiden without a Mother. I guess I would be less Maiden and more Orphan. I guess I have been one before and it wasn’t so bad. I’m gonna miss Ma and Pa, but it will be ok. I’ll find them again someday. But nothing needs to be decided now. Chiropoler first, then the rest of my life.

Milo grins as they stand back up. Blood is dripping down their death as they grin.
“I didn’t hear a goddamned bell!” They laugh, hands forming signs and channeling magic faster than thought. Dimly in the back of their mind a cautious voice warns them of the anacrusis, but there’s no time. A n anacrusis beast is tromping around the woods hurting people, and if their body isn’t going to move correctly on its own then they’re going to wrap the damn thing in strings of magic and puppet it like a fucking marionette.
The spells wash over them, strengthening their body, reducing the swelling in their joints, numbing the pain. It was temporary, they knew. Barely a hairs breadth from being psychosomatic. But they had a job to do.

Milo sat at a table with their wife and a few vecatrans. They resisted the urge to sneer. These fucking tree worshippers were barely more than screeching monkeys, throwing their shit around and calling it power. Why were they even talking to these things? It’s not like they had any good ideas, or like they could recognize a good idea if it was waving a banana in front of their stupid faces.
They feel their mouth open to say something, but their hands were faster. In less time than it took for them to breath in, their hands had woven the sign for Seal. With the final motion, they felt clarity come over them.
Empathy returned. The vecatrans were scared. Worried. A Mage had come to town and nearly killed their whole pantheon on accident. They felt unseen, they felt threatened. Milo could empathize.

They frowned, eyebrows furrowing. Such an acute and targeted lack of empathy. Their studies in psychology, both mundane and arcane, had warned of this as a side effect of Anacrusis resolution. They’d had quite a bit channeled out of them just last market. It had probably amplified their feelings of general annoyance at the vecatrans into a perceived lack of humanity. Not difficult. The disgusting creatures wanted so much to live like animals then why shouldn’t Milo treat them like-
Faster than thought, another handsign. Clarity returned.
They’d have to talk to Cadence about that later.

Milo stood quietly, bathed in darkness. Chiropolers lungs were horrifying, yes, but honestly no worse than the rest of him. Eventually it stopped being gross and just became What This Place Is Like.
Milo fidgeted nervously with a pebble they’d plucked from their boot. Their father had come again. Appeared in spectral form to remind them that they were a danger. But they were strong this time. They knew what they were worth.
“My body will be a prison for disease. The place they go to die.” They’d said. The word had leapt unbidden to their lips in the moment, but they were true. Milo was a natural at magic. They could manipulate disease like it was second nature. They’d already killed several just that market, pulling them from others and then locking them away until Sophie could burn them up. They weren’t a danger any more. The only thing they’d ever been good at was killing, and now they could even kill disease.
With a casual toss the pebble flew from their hands, guided not by magic but by their dexterity. It clattered against the far stone wall, knocking some loos rock from it and making a terrible clatter. The Anacrusis Beast stalking them from the darkness turned towards the sound and charged, buying their group a little extra time

Spring 609 –

The mists weaken around us day by day, and I fear not only for what our present holds – but our future as well. As hypothetical – say we do manage to succeed in our conflict against Chriopholer? What then? The mists will still recede, and the old conflicts of the lion folk will rear their heads again in our peaceful valley. There will come a time where we of Vecatra will need to once again fade into obscurity lest we be subjugated to the judgements of the outside world. I fear what will become of our friends amongst the town who do not share our views – will they be persecuted for suffering us to live? Or will they be given clemency?

There is a certain amount of wonder in my mind for places beyond the mists – I recall stories my father would tell, passed down from generation to generation – of the sea, of the mountains, of the wonders of the world outside our little valley and our way of life. This last market a group of traders and wanderers found their way through the mists to Luisant – a strange bunch, who followed the ways of Vecatra while still living amongst the lions. From them I obtained two things – the first was knowledge – that it was possible to live our lives outside the mists, that we can make ends meet – I’m no trader, but I believe a wandering tinker would prove useful to the outside world, and would be a good way to have a degree of anonymity. The second was a map – it depicted rivers, pathways, and cities, all outside our world – of the much larger world – of the world my father would tell me stories of when I was young.

I’m still not quite sure what our plan for dealing with Chriopholer is – we keep delving deeper and deeper into the caverns, performing tasks that feel like we’re helping it rather than hurting, and while it confuses me, people much more competent and/or confidant than I say it is the right thing. I’m not sure what the town guard can do to it – there are many beasts and monsters living within, which they can surely help with, but I feel that their swords and pikes would be but toothpicks to it. My uncle and I currently labor towards larger weapons – devices that can launch wood and steel with great force – enough to topple stone, yet I fear that still is not enough. I know that Auriane is working to create bombs, that could be more promising, as could whatever ancient lion device that cousin Isabel is working towards. I still worry that our efforts may be in vain, but really – what else can we do other than fight it in our own way?

Aspen came to me near the end of the last market – they would like to see me become a mother, provided I can aid in the destruction/ dissolution/ whatever descriptor is applicable to the demise of the ancestor entity known as “Truth”. I have not met them, but I have heard the tales, and how they stand as anathema to Aspen’s will. I know not how an encounter with them will end, how it will change me and the people of the Veneaux family, but I do believe that the only way to fight them is with a greater Truth that can persuade them to end their cycle of using the truths of the world to harm others. I may create a weapon that can end Chiropholer, I may find a way for my people to live safely in the outside world – but if I can’t lead that weapon to and in battle, and if I can’t lead my people to safety, then what good is it having these devices and ideas? While things are moving faster than I could have possibly have imagined, in a vector unseen to me, I think the only way forward is to have the strength and wisdom of the standing folk, guiding my arrows, my voice, my people – Me.

Svart had been in the woods searching. First, to find the blocked paths. He had gathered what he could, and then returned to find the rest of the stones needed for repair of the broken cairn. They cairn couldn’t be fixed without Svart. Svart wondered if those were what THEY had told him to seek, but he did not think so. There was still something else to find. But first, he would rest.

Svart got up from my rest. It was time to go to court. He usually misses court, but he needs to fulfill his duties and know what is going on in his city. He gets up from his bunk and puts on his best tunic, and dons his regal wolf-bear cloak. Satisfied that he is looking his best he heads to court.

He tries to enter without making any sound and stands in the back. Still, when he enters a hush spreads through the room as the various factions realize Svart is there. Those that followed the Witch’s orders knew fear and began to worry. Others wondered what it meant. Knut, Svart’s friend and ally, gave a nod to Svart knowing he was there to support him in court. The room tried to regain its composure and continue with its conversation.

The Mages tried to befuddle his attention. They had been casting spells on Svart to keep him between markets from remembering that they are mages. However, Svart is overcoming their enchantments and is able to remember now. The green mage had switched to a blue outfit to try and enhance his magic, but Svart saw through his attempts. Svart was becoming immune to their spells and remembering who they were.

Various issues were brought up on monster hunting at court. The mages wanted to be put into a position of handling this as they could manipulate it for their own advantage. Knut saw through their lies and made it a matter for the fighting men like us. The matter of the Master of Coin was brought up. Ever since Victor had been manipulated by the Witch to make bad decisions, nobody else had been able to handle the city’s coin as well as he could. Svart has always paid his taxes. Svart is hardworking and dependable. Others, like the Gothics must not be pulling their share. Looks like they might have Ragnar work things out. He’d sort things out. He’s a good Njord with a sensible head on his shoulders.