Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Date:           Therendor 998 YK

Day:            14^th, Sunday

Time:           Way passed my bedtime…

-

Atxius had informed me that I should start writing a journal log, or “diary” to be more accurate, so that the future ages can read upon my successes and failures from my own ink-filled words rather than how history will make of me.

So, let me start with an introduction.

--Psst!  Scroll down to “End intro” if you want to skip my boring life.  You’ll thank me for it.

My name is Rosalith Siannodel named by my Elven mother, Althaea, but raised by my human father, the Earl of Arundel in the kingdom of Breland.  Growing up in a nobility wasn’t my true calling, and so I left home as soon as I reached adulthood.  As of last month, I am now 76-years old, and that should tell you enough that I grew up in the Last War. 

For those of you who don’t know the Last War, it was a devastating war that lasted for over a century in the continent of Khorvaire.  It only recently ended about two years ago, so the scars are still fresh in everyone’s minds, including those old enough to have felt its effects as a child.  Still, we move on.  We have to.

When the war ended, a courtier tracked me down and informed me of my inheritance.  My father had just passed away at a solid number of 98 years old.  I was surprised because we had a falling out since I last saw him 30 years ago, and I regret it… so much.  Instead of giving the title of Earl/Count away to his human-born children of his first wife, he passed it down to me.  At first, I wasn’t interested, but after meeting my half-siblings, I decided they didn’t really deserve it.

And so, I took the title of Earl, and became the Countess of Arundel.  There’s only one problem: I had no lands.  Apparently, my land was swallowed up by the Duke of Sharn over disputes of fraud caused by my half-siblings.  Still, they wanted to give me a land, and to do that, the Duke of Sharn decided to send me into an expedition.

--End intro.  You’re very much welcome.

So, here I am today, and let me tell you this: after traveling to---not an empty land, but a-fucking-nother world through the gates of some shady, decrepit ruins, everything was a fucking shit-show, I kid you not.

--2 Therendor 998 YK, Tuesday ß Just so you know

First off, we’ve lost a small patrol of explorers through the Nexium, which is the strange plane with over a hundred Elven-crafted mirrors used as portals to a world called Thedas.  One of the individuals of that patrol is a very talented artificer needed for the city development of the new territory found beyond one of these mirrors.  Currently, Aust, the artificer’s hired bodyguard and true Eldritch Knight, has left our encampment to search for the half-elf.

Second, magic is frayed here in this material plane, or rather it’s clogged?  It feels like there’s some sort of barrier between the physical and the weave---magic source, I mean.  Because of this strange realm, the output of magic is rather weak compared to our world, Eberron.

Third, another magic-related problem are these spirits and demons that seem to plague our dreams every night since our arrival to this strange world.  To my surprise, they only seem to haunt those that knew how to cast magic, so most of the soldiers under my command are safe.  So far, the worst thing that happened to us spellcasters was insomnia.

And lastly, fourth, I found a warding spell and taught it to all spellcasters, so that they can finally have a restful night without any entities bothering them in their dreams, though in exchange, they wouldn’t be able to dream for the next 8 hours or so.

Why is the warding spell a problem, you say?

It’s a huge problem specifically for me, because you should be asking where I learned the warding spell.

See, I am a warlock.  Now, I know what you’re thinking.  You think I sought out a fiendish patron in order to sate my need for knowledge and power.  Well, you’re wrong.  My fiendish patron found me during the war when I faced a dilemma that— [ink splatters]

I cannot divulge.

Regardless of how I came to know him, he’s the reason why I can cast spells just by invoking his name.  And, he’s also the reason why I knew about the warding spell that guards against the meddling of spirits and demons during sleep.

One would think that I was lucky that my patron decided to help me out a bit, but it’s because they don’t know him like I do.  Ever since I formed a pact with him, not once did he meddle with my affairs.  In fact, he left me alone and let me do everything I wanted without him demanding some kind of compensation or obligation.

To my horror, he came to me in my dreams one night.  He was investigating why our connection seemed a bit frayed.  Him being my patron, I had no choice but to tell him everything, especially about the part that I travelled to another world.  He was completely ecstatic over the idea that there was another world so very different from ours.  He kept me in a dream-state for ours on end as he interrogated me over everything of this other world so far.

He was very interested about the ethereal creatures that lingered in spellcasters’ dreams.  After explaining to him about the problem, he stated that these creatures might try to possess me, and that is something he will not have done.  Right on the spot, he gave me a warding spell and dismissed me, prompting me to wake.

Since that night, though the spellcasters of my expedition have better nights now, I suffer frequent visits from my patron, who criticizes me for not doing any more malicious activities since after the war.

Still, I should be counted lucky that I still wasn’t burdened with any demands or obligations, and I could solely focus on building upon the land that I found right outside the mirror we travelled through.

At this moment, this land has no name yet.  I was thinking of just naming it Arundel, just to save me the trouble, but most of my court advisors shot it down.  So, for now, this encampment is temporarily called Arundel until we can find a better name for it.

Is this log entry getting too long?  I should just end it here.

How does one end a fucking diary event?

I’ll ask Atxius about this.

Till’ next time.

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Chapter Text

Date:                   Therendor 998 YK

Day:                    26th, Friday

Time:                 Just after dinner

-

Atxius scolded me for already breaking my routine of writing a diary after the very first night.  But really?  He expects me to keep writing it nightly.  I can’t do that.  So, we reached an agreement that I’ll be writing an entry in to the diary at least once a week.  He pleaded twice with me though, so that should be only occasionally.

He also berated me for not describing him, because you readers would want me to elaborate on who he is in my point of view, because it’s my diary.

--Start of Atxius.  Skip to “End intro”, if you find it boring as well.  I know I do.

Forget it.  I’m not writing stuff about him.  This is supposedly my diary.  I will write what I want, and if I want to say shit about him, well, I can always say it straight to his face.

--End intro.  Again, you’re welcome.

Nearly two weeks passed by since my last diary entry, let me see if I can summarize everything in one go.

First, we’ve met the inhabitants of this world in a not so idealistic situation about a week ago.  It seems like no matter where we go, slavery exist in some shape, or form.  In this case, we’ve found some humans hauling out some elves and another tiefling-like creature through a winded path through the thicker parts of the forest.  If they’re trying to be discreet, it must mean that slavery is look down upon here and someone would surely interfere.  It also means that we have the right to intervene.

And so, our first contact with the locals is an outright assault upon their very criminal lives.  Quite hypocritical of me since I’ve done worse acts during the war, but let’s not get into that.  Repentance is for anyone.

We easily got rid of the slavers.  Having my appointed general and warden by my side makes the battle even more so easy, like rocks smashing eggs.

None of the slavers survived after the skirmish.

Can’t really blame some of us when our blood boils to see such inhumane actions as humans would say.

Anyhow, we rescued the slaves.  As soon as we cut off their ropes and unlocked their chains, some of them already made a run for it, which we didn’t give chase.  If they wanted to go, they can.  No problem.  The rest stayed as they were confused, looking like lost little lambs as if deciding whether or not they should run, or trust their saviors.

Thankfully, Derek, my quirky unofficial diplomat, asked if any of them were hungry or thirsty.

So, we took those willing enough back to Aidar Fort.

Right.  The fort, I didn’t mention this in our last entry.  Atxius did say I have to be very specific with my descriptions so bear with me

So, I did mention that we travelled from a portal gate called the Gates of Aidar, and through there, we came upon what we called the Nexium.  It was a sort-of ethereal plane with winding paths and places leading to mirrors.  Most of them were shattered or non-functional.  We found this one mirror that was working and walked right through into a decrepit temple yet still holding up despite how much time had passed.

To our surprise, it was an Elven temple, but really ancient.  Our scholars are still researching into this place, but otherwise, we were using it as our main base of operations.  No renovations needed, just more restorations, which the scholars are than happy to make happen.

Anyway, we took the ex-slaves back to the temple.  And from there, we gave them food and water.  We had our healers also patch up any wounds on them, or give them medicine for their sickness.

As we were taking care of them, my councilor, Erevan, pulled me aside and began to take not on our Elven guests.

They were slightly way too short, too slender, and their eyes were just slightly too big, like how cats’ eyes were bigger than their heads.  He said they could be another sub-race of elves that has changed over time due to the environment.  He theorized they could also be descendants of High Elves that were broken off from Khorvaire, but for how long, we didn’t have that information.  Yet.

The Gates of Aidar was something that was kept secret for many eras even before the Last War.  So much of it is unknown to us, except only the promise of a new land far away from Breland.

Why did I, and so many of us, take such a dangerous risk?

I can’t claim to know what other people reasons are, but what I do know is that I wanted to start over.  Like everyone in Khorvaire, I just wanted to move on.

For the next several days, we started questioning the elves and they were more than happy to provide us answers.

This world was called Thedas.  Humans mostly ruled the continent, and there was so far only one Dwarven Kingdom that remains standing.  As for an Elven Empire, it fell thousands of years ago.  There are still elves today, but they are scattered.  They either live in alienages of human cities, or they travel in nomadic clans called the Dalish.

Wow, does my Elven ancestor have the worst of things here.  Erevan, my councilor, didn’t look so happy to hear such things.  Even the Head of the Arcane Department, Lucan Mystralath, wasn’t so pleased with the idea of the elves’ situation in Thedas, not when they’re so pitiful compared to the elves in Khorvaire.  There were at least two great nations of just Elves in Khorvaire, and sure, there was always conflict between humans and elves, but half-elves do exist.  My race is the bridge that forms between them, and it is proof that co-existence can be reached.

So, when I started talking to them about half-elves and asking if they had any, they were stupefied, especially when I told them I was half-elf.  When I called Derek over, who’s also a half-elf, they were just as stumped.

Apparently, half-elves didn’t exist in this world.  Here in Thedas, when humans and elves copulate, their babies will look like humans.  No pointy ears at all.

That… that was horrifying.

If I, a half-elf, make babies with an elf, our baby comes out as an elf, because he’d be three quarters elf.  Vice-versa if I were to mate with a human, we’d have a human baby.  Genetics, people.

But here… here.  What did it mean?  For the Elven gene to disappear after copulating with the humans here…  Were the elves of Thedas too far from the Elven Ancestry?  Or were the humans here come from a different make?  We’re not sure.  This worried my elven and half-elven compatriots.

Also, they were shocked to see Derek with a beard.  Though we did explain to them that he is half-elf, it’s still a wonder to see a pointy-eared being with a scruffy beard.

Here’s another shocking discovery, before I end my entry.

Out of nowhere, I started asking their ages.  Usually, I’m not one to ask another person’s age, especially women, because it’d be rude, but I asked an older fella this time as he was teaching Erevan and other alchemists and druids about the herbs and plants in the Free Marches of Thedas.

I didn’t outright ask him, but I sort of said, “You must know so much considering the centuries you lived in these parts.”

He laughed weakly and said that he wasn’t centuries old, and that I jest too much.  Then, he outright said his age.

65.

He was 65-years-old.

It left my jaw hanging for quite a while, because I was eleven years older than him, and still in my prime young adult life—at least I’d like to think so.

Even Erevan was shocked and nearly keeled over hearing the old elf’s age.

So… the elves of Thedas have the same lifespan as humans.  Oh, that also counted the dwarves.  Everyone here in the world of fucking Thedas has the lifespan of 80.  Great.

I wonder if that meant I’ll be aging rapidly from now on.

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