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First-Shining, Day Twelve, Year of the Horn

It has been near a week that our king has remained in ill health and recovery seems an ever more distant dream. The council has taken to fighting over what will become of the kingdom. Our king has been blessed with two potential heirs, twin born Typus and Daedarus Argeon. Some push for a spar between the brothers to determine the physical and tactical dominant, though others suggest that a feat of academics would be more fitting a king.> Still, the final decision rests upon our king's shoulders. Yet I fear his years have mutilated his wisdom, I pray that his decision comes with good fortune for Greydomir.> > First-Shining, Day Thirteen, Year of the Horn> As I feared, the King did not make it through the night. However, before he passed he did decide his sons' fates. Twins they may be, Daedarus was still the first to breathe in Voravem's world. He will be the one to take the throne of Greydomir. His twin, Tyrus, will take the Fort of Ebinhall to the North. The youngest brother, Urock, will take charge of Sunderhall in the South. I will continue to keep record here in Greydomir under Daedarus' rule. The man has always had a taste for violence... Hopefully this will change under a crown.> > Eighth-Shining, Day Twenty-Three, Year of the Horn> King Daedarus, I pray that Voravem keeps you from these writings. The "Lord-King" has forced scholars to destroy many records as of late, targeting those containing the lineage of his kin. Out of fear we complied, though our eldest, Master Baelin, refused. Now his head hangs from the spike of a chandelier above the archives. Only one of my brothers would have his head placed beside Baelin's before the rest learned to hold their tongues.> None of us had thought the beloved King Thuuros could father such a demon as this. We are likely one of few that know of his plans against his brothers. I record the events and expenditures of Greydomir, I know of the army massing in this time of peace... I know only one possible use for such a thing. I have sent word to King Tyrus and King Urock. All I can do now is hope that it reaches them safely. Even then, they may prove too trusting in family ties.> > Eleventh-Shining, Day Eight, Year of the Horn> I count my blessings having sent my warning anonymously now that my messenger lies dead and pronounced a traitor. My failure is marked with his head impaled beside Baelin's. Now that Daedarus' men are armed, I fear time is running short if there is any way of putting an end to this man's plans.> > Second-Shining, Day Three, Year of the Sword> The Demon-King has broken Sunderhall. The youngest Argeon king is dead. With little army left after Daedarus' recruitments, they hadn't stood a chance. Walls reset under King Thuuros' reign now lay broken under his son's blood. Oromus' manipulation has played will here...> His army now marches to Ebbinhall, cutting back through Greydomir. The King will arrive any day now, so I will hide deep--in the tunnels connecting the city. Voravem guide me, need I escape tonight.> > Second-Shining, Day Five, Year of the Sword> Lords, I cannot believe my senses. The Demon-King rode near and in the sky I saw her, Lord Voravem, Soaring high above our walls as if swimming through the sky. Vast in her wrath she danced before calling on the wicked Daedarus to look high. From every limb, every opening they tore, bud and branch bloodied with his corrupt liquor tore him apart.> Not only he, but his armies now were torn into trees, roots finding soil, tearing stone, spreading to redeem the forest that had been destroyed by their hands. It was all I could do not to cheer, to let my joy overcome me. No, one does not distract the wild Lords when they bless you so. I will remain down here, beneath the archives. King Tyrus will be a just King--of that much I am certain.> > Third-Shining, Day Three, Year of the Sword> Some citizens of Gredomir remain; devotees of Voravem, mostly. Strange things have been happening around what is left of the town. Perhaps the magic used by our Lord touched us, as well. People have spoken of finding infant animals where their children were, looking for the child only to return to them sitting in place of the creature. Those nearer the castle ruins have been acquiring odd features--those of plants, animals... things inhuman. At first they reacted with panic and fear, thoughts that they, too, had finally succumbed to the curse placed on Daedarus and his men; fearing that they would join the cursed among the forest as vast trees. But this was no curse. Voravem's blessing has enabled us to take on forms of nature.> > Eighth-Shining, Day Nine, Year of the Sword> I have been preoccupied with those who remain in Greydomir. It seems many have given in to the bestial nature of their second forms, others managing passage out of the thick forest. Knowing of Sunderhall's fate, they head toward Ebinhall. I hear rumor that their people, too, have been touched by Voravem after drinking from the stream that flows from Sunderhall, through the forest and into the Ebon Sea North of Ebinhall. Only a handful of non-shifters remain there.> The other scholars, like myself, have few human qualities left. Our bodies have given way to leaves, grass, vines and roots; Eyes like pods and voices like soft wind through trees. We are relearning an old language with a weedy tongue made to fight us at every step. Text is the only means to communicate with the few left in Greydomir that we have.> > First-Shining, Year of Thorns> I've lost count of the days, waking only at night, unsure if one has begun annew. What purpose does this new form hold? It is alien and strange... Others have broken into hysterical rage, lashing out at the others over nothing. Smart men, peaceful men who once meditated on all that we know now roam, babbling with reeds, what laughter rising as a rustle eerie as a breeze on the forest of Deephallow.> If this is some form of test, I do not know how much more I can take. I feel my own sanity slipping.> > Sliver-Moon, Night Thaseus was killed> Violence has surged among my colleges. Scarcely a man left between the lot, I have found them attacking me more and more frequently. Thaseus--at least, I think it was him--came at me, unrelenting, so I tore him limb from limb. I drug what was left into the grove and threw it into the trees. No more of this. I cannot take it. Having locked and barricaded myself inside the Archives, alone, I will myself to solitude. I pray this saves what is left of me, of the damned Greydomir I've spent a lifetime recording.> Forgive me.