In this thread I will be posting entries from my family's diaries from the viewpoint of different members to give insight in to our experiences here and interactions with other characters in the game. I hope that my storytelling will provide some entertainment for you all, if it goes well I may just incorporate voice acting to read the entries so you can just listen along while playing the game. Please feel free to play along with me in game if you should see a Bloodstone character and I will be sure to include our venture in the journal entries. Thanks. Please see http://uorforum.com/threads/a-family-introduction.6031/ for details of my family history and how we arrived here.
A journal entry from Ozara Bloodstone reads... It has been a little over a week since my family has crossed through the gate to this new world. The journey, though quick, was far more taxing on the body than we ever could have imagined. We arrived outside of the Sweet Dreams Inn in Britain and it was a good thing too. We were so weakened by the experience that we could barely summon the energy to stand. A few of the locals saw us in our pitiful state and came to our aid. They were even so nice as to pay the inn keeper for a night’s rent so we could recover. I must admit that the people of this world are far more polite thus far than those of the lands we hail from. The next day we came to realize why we felt as though our life source had been tapped and drained. As I was walking through the fields on the outskirt of town I came across a wild horse. As I approached the mare, it began to be rather spooked which I had not experienced since I was a child. I tried to calm and reassure the animal that I meant no harm and to gain its trust but off it ran in to the wild. What was happening? I possessed the powers to soothe a dragon’s temper and command wyrms to do my bidding and this measly mare ignored me as if I was a common peasant! Flustered, I began making my way back to town when Ivan ran up to me in a panic. He explained to me that he had been caught peeking in to someone's pack while at the bank, something that has not happened to him since he was a young boy. Later than night the whole family gathered at the Cat's Lair tavern in Britain for food and drink. Each person had stories of the same nature where they could no longer perform the skills that were once as easy as breathing. It became obvious to us that not only had our energy been sapped but also our talents as well. I began to cry at the thought of all of those years honing my skills - gone. Ervin placed an arm around me squeezing a shoulder as he reassured me that hope is not lost, we will survive. The rest of the night was somber as no one had the energy or the will to engage in conversation. You could tell it was on everyone's mind, how were we supposed to survive if we have no skills to earn a living? I did not sleep well that night on the hay behind the stables. Our last coins spent on the last meal we could afford. The next morning I was awoken by Ewan as he handed me a basket and informed me that he had spoken to some men that morning at the merchant’s guild and was told that picking cotton would provide an income for our family. It wouldn’t be much but it would be enough to allow us to stay at the Inn and put food in our mouths. Since then Ivan and I have been picking cotton to give to Ewan who has been making cloth to sell to tailors and warriors for coin. My poor hands cramp at night from this manual labor, I worry that they will lose their softness with all this work! Ervin has been spending much of his time trying to locate Irvin who ran off in to the wild just two days ago with a pitchfork after he thought he saw another assassin…I say just let him go, you can’t fix someone that broken. On a positive note I have been spending what chances I get in the cotton fields to talk with the animals that venture there. I can feel myself becoming more adept once again; I guess it’s almost like a memory that comes back faster now than it did when I first began taming creatures. Hopefully all of our skills will quickly regain as we train them. Hopefully… -Ozara Bloodstone
A journal entry by Ervin Bloodstone reads... My body aches, my mind's a wreck, and my soul feels drawn and quartered. I'm trying to keep up a facade that all is well and will be but my own belief wavers while we try to make ends meet. Whether we made the right decision to come to this world is irrelevant, we couldn’t go back now if we wanted to as our powers have been diminished. I feel guilty for what I have done to my family as I knew the dangers that accompany traveling between worlds and was not forthcoming with all details. I felt that this world would be a better place to live out our days than that cesspool of depravity we resided. I did not know the precise side effects that we would experience and I certainly did not expect to have to re-train what we once knew. Starting over with no worldly possession is one thing, but to be a newborn with no skills to assist is near unbearable to imagine. Ivan is too light-hearted to be discouraged long, Ian has the will of an Ox and does not know defeat. Ewan is very frustrated that his once masterful craftsmanship has been reduced to a clumsy fingered fool but his love of creating things will push him to succeed once again. I will be fine and Irvin, well, I don't know how he will be and right now I really don't give a damn. That blasted fool has left us to chase his demons. But it is Ozara that I find myself worrying about when I lie awake at night. Not being able to connect with the creatures she has such a deep love for is wearing heavily on her soul. She tries to hide her emotions but the redness in the eyes and puffy skin around them tells the stories of her tears. Tonight I will attend a festival of some sorts. There were people running through the streets of Ocllo today talking of a "resist" party at a local's keep, a sir Blaise if I remember correctly, that will be free to all to attend. They said that it would be a gathering of like-minded people there to concentrate on developing their abilities to resist magical spells. Being that I am in need of such, I shall take advantage of this opportunity and hopefully meet a few friendly folk over good food and wine. -Ervin Bloodstone
A small journal entry by Ervin Bloodstone reads... I was in fear that I would never return to my family again. I arrived at Blaise's keep only to be told "Die" by someone at the door. "Excuse me? I'm here for the party my friend" I replied and was again instructed to "Die". It seemed that to gain entry you would have to manifest as a ghost to pass through locked doors and then would be resurrected inside the home. An enormous spider was nearby so I closed my eyes and walked toward it gritting my teeth, it had been a while since I felt the cold fangs of a spider or the excruciating pain of death. I tried not to scream as the spider began gnashing at my skin and poison seeped in to my veins. "Stand here and take it like a man" I told myself, "people are watching". Within a moment or two I felt that old familiar sting in my spine as my vision faded to black, death my friend we meet again. I gained entry to the keep and found a healer calling forth to gain passage back to the living. Ahh the feeling of being revived once again, like a cold baptism as a newborn. I greeted the person next to me and out of nowhere a meteor struck me in the stomach. Then another, and another! I tried to gain exit but found I was trapped in the home! I asked for assistance, this was not the kind of party I was accustom to, but almost everyone stared blankly without emotion or speech as the storm pelted downward. I felt my body trying to resist the magic and I could tell from a small tingling on my skin that I was beginning to resist. For two long days I was brutally abused and beaten down with magic until I finally felt my body had reached it's capacity to resistance. I begged the healer, "No more!" and I was shown the door. I never met Blaise but I will assure you that will be the last party of his I attend! Why did I come here?! -Ervin Bloodstone
A journal entry by Ivan Bloodstone reads... I'm so bored. If I'm not picking cotton for coin then I'm helping Ian clear land to make way for our home we are going to build. Ervin has decided that it would be best if we all just lived under one roof here as we don't know anyone, but he better not try to act like our Father and tell me how I'm going to live by his rules! He's got Ian clearing brush off a parcel of land and planning to build a huge keep! He's been bartering between a couple of sisters to get the funds to build. Something about a contract of employment for commision. Anyways who cares. I'm just bored to tears. I have been working on re-sharpening my talents in the shadows of the night. I was able to hide in the corners last night and stealth away from the inn without anyone noticing and hopped a moongate ot Ocllo. Walking that old familiar cobblestone road and the hustle of people around me felt good. I took the liberty of inspecting the packs of a few nefarious looking gentlemen, you know, for security reasons. Nothing worth noting. I purchased a few goods from the provisioner, just a backpack and some empty bottles, with a few coins that I earned for myself from all that hard work in the fields. I think I should be able to practice lifting the bottles from the pack at night to sharpen by pickpocketing ability. The trick is to see how many you can lift efficiently without them clanking together and alarming people. Soon I will be myself again and then oh the fun I am going to have! I can't wait to discover what goodies lie in wait! When sneaking back into the Inn that night I saw Ervin and Irvin talking lowly at a table near the fireplace. The glow of the embers on their faces fighting the shadows on their backs. Their strong facial features and the bend in their brow told me the tone was of a serious nature. I decided I should get a closer positioning, the anticipation of what was being said was killing me. I managed a few more steps undetected. Ervin handed Irvin a cloth wrapped item with a wax seal and talked of a herbalist that claimed he could help with Irvin's temperament and delusions. Of course Irvin just argued that he was not the one who was crazy but that we all were. After a few minutes of pleading politely, Ervin slammed his fist to the table and yelled "Take it damnit! Or by the Gods I will strike you down this very instant and be done with you!". Standing up hovering over Irvin with a glow of hellfire in his eyes, Irvin lowered his head and agreed to take the medicine reluctantly. I decided that as curious as I was at what was going on it would be in my best interested to skedaddle before I was noticed and then there would definitely be Hell to pay! I lied awake the rest of the night replaying what I had seen in my head over and over. So many questions! What was that all about? We had all written Irvin off as the crazed lunatic murdering brother we disowned. I don't even know why Ervin brought him along to tell you the truth, and then he ran off in the first few days! Why is he interested in medicating him? I know they are twins and they say there is a bond that outsiders can never understand between twins but for all the bad blood that has been between them, this does not make much sense. For years they did not speak, and now he is trying to save him? I do not know what to make of this yet but it can be rest assured that I will keep a close ear to them in the shadows for when they meet again. What is that sound? Arghh....Ian is snoring again. There has to be something bigger at play here, but what?... -Ivan Bloodstone
A gold coin tumbles effortlessly from finger to finger, index to pinky on one hand while the other slowly combs a bearded face. A single candle upon a writing table casts great big warm shadows on massive cold stone walls. Slouched in his throne staring at a leather bound journal closed on the table before him, the coin stops and stands on end before sinking into the creases of the fingers like a victim of quicksand. He leans forward, takes a deep breath and releases the book from it's dusty captor. The flick of a wrist and the journal opens to the exact spot of the last entry, like a paused memory ready to finish the tale. A quill and ink nearby stand ready for duty, he stops for thought then reaches for the tools. "It has been so long....where to begin?" he whispers to himself. "No need to think about it, let us just begin." A drop of black ink releases from the quill and splatters upon his white tunic... "Damnit."
A journal entry by Ervin Bloodstone reads... So much time has passed, where do I begin? Memories flood my mind when I think of when it all went wrong so quickly, they say hindsight is as clear as a mountain lake but the details still seem murky. I remember sitting by the fire the night before not able to tell whether it was the radiant heat of the flame or my temper that was making my brow bead with sweat. I had given Irvin a flask filled with a foul concoction that frankly I did not bother to inquire of it's contents. An herbalist and an alchemist were contracted for a large sum of gold to deliver to me a medicine to cast out the demons that haunted my brother's mind and hopefully return him to us as we remembered years ago. He wanted to argue with me once again that he was the sane one and we were all delusional. In my frustration I sprung to my feet and demanded he comply, I was so close to ending these years of constant fighting with him, one way or another. He took the medicine and retired to his quarters. I finished off another bottle of wine questioning myself as to why I even give a damn about him. You see, Irivn and I are twins. We were born only minutes apart, only on different sides of the Winter Solstice as I am told. The midwives said it was an omen to be born that way and sometimes I believe that to be true. It is true what you hear about twins having a bond that is almost paranormal. We could finish each other's sentences or know what the others' next move was without discussion. Not in a telepathy sort of nature, but more of a feeling of what was to come. As expected we were very close throughout our childhood and as young adults but as we aged it became more noticeable the personality differences between us. I was more analytical when making decisions, Irvin was rash and emotional. If wronged I would grant forgiveness once the wrong was made right, Irvin would hold a grudge and bitterness would dissolve relationships. Before our father's death and the events that lead to Irvin's mental instability and insanity, I had caught him late at night torturing Ozara's pets for the sheer pleasure of dominance...more than once. He was turning sick and twisted long before he turned insane, I suppose the midwives were right about the omen. But even after all of that and knowing how many people he had murdered in our previous lands, I still felt love for my brother and knew no matter how bad I wanted to, I could never really ever give up on him. We were in a new world now, a chance to start fresh. I wanted to get to him before he became known as a murderer once again. I felt this was my last chance. The next morning I awoke where I had left off....a bottle of wine in my hand, slouched in the chair by the fire that was now cold with streamers of smoke. My head hurt, my back ached, and my legs cramped. Old age brings more than just wisdom with it. As I put some wood on the embers and sat waiting for the fire to rebirth, Ewan burst through the door so hard the top hinge broke lose and a pin almost took my head off as it shot against the wall beside me! "Ervin! Something is wrong with Irvin....I think he's DEAD!" The cold tingling shock that went up my spine as I leapt to my feet nearly left me paralyzed with fear. I ran out the door on Ewan's heels to the stable yard where Irvin lay motionless in a pile of hay. An empty flask in his hand. No pulse...pupils dilated, I remember the sweet odor from the medicine lingering by his mouth as I listened for a breath. None was found, and no spirit as well. This is where my memory fades and only bits and pieces remain, so let me pen them out before they are gone forever. Forgive me if I ramble.... I remember loading Irvin quickly on to a cart as his body was still warm to the touch. As fast as my steed could pull I rushed to the healers nearby in Britain. When I arrived I was met outside by a healer who after looking over Irvin told me there was nothing he could do. "You're a healer! What do you mean there is nothing you can do!" I shrieked in a frightened tone. I snatched the healer by the robe, slamming his body against the door of his quarters. There must have been something he saw in my eyes because almost immediately he began stuttering."Uh..um..uh..uh..he..uh..um .his..uh.." ,"WHAT!?" I screamed to his face. I could feel my brother's warmth fade as he lay lifeless on the cart behind me. "His death was not natural, it is beyond my ability to heal!" he said, and with that I threw him down on the cobblestone road. I had done this to my brother. I had killed him. It may have not have been my hand that took his life, but it was my insistence that forced him to drink that concoction...that poison. Guilt weighed down upon my shoulders with such force that I collapsed to my knees, sobbing like a child who lost a pet. "But there may be a way..." the healer suggested, "but the price could be hefty". I was out of gold, spending all of my earnings on the damned medicine but no one knew that, perhaps I could find a way to pay later. "How much gold? Name your price and you shall have it!" I pleaded with the healer. "It's not me who can help you, and the price you would pay would not be in gold but if you wish to bring this type of death back to the living there is one who can help. A necromancer is the only way". I did not have time to comprehend what was said or what he meant by the price being other than gold, I only begged him to tell me where to find this necromancer. "He lives in a cave just north of dungeon Despise, follow the trees as they go from full bloom to dead and rotten and you will find him. Do not delay for every hour that passes it is less likely that he will return to you as you recall." With that I quickly rode to the North towards Despise. A necromancer? Stories were told of sorcerers that could reanimate the dead but I had not heard of bring the dead back to the living. And to my knowledge this was merely children stories to scare and spark imagination, there were no known necromancers I could ever recall. As I rode down the path I remember thinking I would find no one in this cave and it was hopeless. He was dead and I had just better accept it. I felt the reality of it sinking in and I almost stopped the horse to bring his lifeless body back to his family for a proper funeral. Then there was the part of my mind that kept on...what if? What if there was a chance? Could I live with myself knowing I was given a chance and gave up before truly knowing? This is what kept me moving forward. Before long the trees began to wither and as I passed the way to Despise, the trees along the mountainside began to bare no leaves. I started to get nervous and excited in the same moment. As the trees became more dead, I felt like life was a possibility. A cave emerged in to view down a small hill against the mountainside. As I halted the cart in front of the cave, an old hunched over woman appeared from the depths. I sat upon my horse in disbelief and not knowing what to say. I could only look at her face as she examined Irvin's body and thought to myself, "That's what a necromancer looks like??" She had to be nearly 100 years old, her back had grown crooked as she hunched in half to move around. One eye brown, one eye white, and hair like straw but faded of color. The saddle that sat upon my horse looked faux compared to the leather of her face. "It can be done" she croaked in a gravely voice, "bring him in to the cave. Place him on the bear rug by the fire, quickly!" she barked. As I entered the cave carrying my limp brother, the smell overwhelmed my senses. I bit my tongue to try to take focus from the stench that filled my nose. As I laid his body on the bear rug the old hag continued barking orders. Since time was of the essence, I did as told and questioned nothing. "Tear his shirt open and remove the hair from his chest, just where there heart lies beneath. Stop looking for a knife and just rip it out!" she squawked. "Good..good. Now you do the same and lie next time him". As I stopped to try to think what she had just said and why, she struck me with her cane. "Quickly boy! No time to waste if you want to see your brother again then move!" I did as she commanded, my mind racing in circles but not able to process anything. I looked to my right and Irvin stared back at me with those cold, blank eyes. his lips had begun to turn blue at this time. I took his hand in mine and squeezed as hard as I could, "wake up Irvin" . I had hoped the pain of my grip would bring him back to life, it did not. The last clear memory I have of this incident was looking over to the necromancer woman and seeing her preparing a long slender dagger with a leather strop and then dipping it in to a jar of black ooze. I closed my eyes and prayed to the Gods. I could hear a slicing of flesh and cracking of bone coming from my brother's chest but I could not bring myself to look. I squeezed his hand harder and harder with every crack of a bone. Then I felt something cold and slimy on my chest above my heart. It must have been something being applied to me but I clinched my eyes even harder shut. The smell was horrendous, and the last thing I remember hearing her say was "Try not to scream..." Ervin placed the quill upon the table, his body was in a cold sweat. Hands trembling he reached for his chest to feel the scar, hoping it was a bad dream and wasn't to be found. He collapsed back in this throne chair with one hand over his mouth the other over his heart. "I....I need to rest. Perhaps I will finish this entry another time". He leaned forward and snuffed the candle out with his fingers and off in to the darkness he retired for the night.
A tiny flame is born out of darkness. Dancing all alone atop a small piece of kindling, teasing with flickers of light to disappear in to the night. A pair of glowing eyes emerge from underneath a tall straw hat, reflecting the faint light of the flame. With a few puffs from a pipe the flame is shaken from it's perch and gone forever. Ervin Bloodstone sits again at his wooden throne, the leather bound journal waiting on the table in front of him just as he last left it. He stares silently at the book, puffing the pipe just often enough to keep it lit but never removing his eyes from the memories printed on the pages before him. His mind pushing through the fog of details that surround him in order to tell the tale. Ervin leans forward, opens the journal, dips the quill, and with a large plume of smoke the ink stains the paper. A journal entry by Ervin Bloodstone reads... Try not to scream she said....at that moment all I wanted to do was scream. Not in pain but in sheer terror. The fear of not knowing what was to come, the regret of the choices I had made, and the sounds of flesh and bone being cleaved still fresh in my ears coupled with the foul environment we were in overwhelmed me. I began choking on my own vomit, my nerves so frayed that I couldn't control my own functions. As I scribe this entry I can recall the sounds of the cauldrons slowly bubbling through some thick liquid, making a loud "blop" at the surface. The sounds of things skittering and crawling around me, perhaps reptilian or arachnid but certainly unsettling. The necro-witch's gleeful humming as she worked to prepare me for what was to come. I can feel my hands begin the shake just thinking back... The slap of what I assumed to be a horse haired brush dipped in a cold slimy ooze against my chest replaced my nerves with the paralysis of fear. "Try not to scream" the necromancer cackled with a smile in her tone. I felt a numbing sensation where she had coated my skin, and a slight sting. I could hear my flesh being cut open but I could not feel any pain. My heart began to race faster with each passing second, I could feel the stinging sweat run into my eyes from my brow. "I'm afraid this is going to hurt, my magic can't numb broken bones" and with that I felt a heavy thud on my chest as if a war hammer had smashed down upon me snapping my sternum like a twig. Screams of agony shot from my mouth and all memory of what happened that point forward is lost. Many days passed before I regained my senses. I faintly remember short lived episodes of consciousness like windows peering into a nightmare. The candles lining the shelves, a cat enjoying a sewer rat meal next to my face, bandages being applied to my chest, and the moans of my brother Irvin from another end of the cavern were just pieces of the puzzle that I have recollection of. When I came to full alertness I found myself tied down to a wooden gurney supported approximately twelve inches above the cave floor by stones. I struggled to free my hands but found no strength in them. During my struggle the gurney slipped off on one of the stones and smacked on the stone floor catching the ear of the necromancer. "Don't bother trying to escape Ervin Bloodstone" she called out from somewhere deep in the cave, "you are in no condition and would surely die before you reached the sunlight." I lifted my head up to examine my torso and found that connected to my chest were tubes that ran along the floor and at the other end connected to the neck of an elderly man. I could not tell if he was alive or dead, but his eyes were shut. "Do not be alarmed Ervin Bloodstone, he was going to die anyway. He was sickly but his blood was good, his family was in need so I made the arrangements". "What kind of price does a man sell his soul to a necromancer for these days?" I scoffed at the witch. She began laughing loudly and shaking her head, "First of all, let us be clear, I did not purchase his soul....you did! And it cost you the deed to a lovely home outside of Trinsic!" she cackled as she hobbled her way further back in to the cave. Another man's blood was pumping through my veins. I knew not his name or his story but I now carried his bloodline within my own. I closed my eyes and tried to regain my strength, my brother's constant moaning kept rest at bay. A few days had passed and I began to spend more time awake than asleep as my strength returned to me. The witch visited often and we conversed in smalls bits as she kept herself busy tending to her potions. Her name was Azryelle and she did not claim a profession. She seemed to be a necromancer, an enchantress, an alchemist, a healer, and a seer all in one crippled old body. Azryelle told me that all things magical intrigued her and why should she have to be defined by what society deemed she should or should not practice. That many years ago she was banished from Magincia after she was found sacrificing wild boars in order to practice black magic and wandered the lands like a gypsy for years until finally calling this cave her home. The case of the Bloodstone Brothers, as she so affectionately labeled us, was in her words "divine deliverance" to her. Twins are not common by any means in these lands. Not that they aren't conceived, but most do not survive childbirth and those that do more often than not pass on from being premature soon after birth. But to have two adult male twins, one alive and one freshly dead to experiment on was indeed a gift from the Gods in Azryelle's mind. She explained how it would only have worked with twins and that she had cut each of our hearts in half and exchanged my half for his and his for mine. The surgery was messy, mistakes were made but corrected, and in the end the only way to bring my brother back to life was to give him half of my still beating heart. Much blood was lost in the surgery and the old man was used to sustain us both. Due to how rare this opportunity for her to experiment on twins was, she did all she could to keep us both alive. Lucky us I suppose but it worked. My brother Irvin and I share the same scar but we are both alive. But not like it was before, things are different now. There are parts of my personality that he now has which is refreshing, but there is a hatred that sometimes flares inside of me that was not there before. We not only share halves of hearts, our emotions and temperaments are alike as well. We are now cut from the same cloth. We remained patients or prisoners depending on the day, for as best as I can recall about eighteen months. We had tried escaping a few times with no success, a magical spell locked the gate barring the cave entrance. It wasn't until one morning when Azryelle did not arise from her quarters did we ever think we would again taste freedom. The witch had passed away in her sleep and after several hours of working at our bindings did we free ourselves from captivity. The magic was gone from the lock of the cave and we walked for the first time in nearly two years in the sun. The warmth of the sunlight brought a smile to our faces and we knew at that moment it was over, we were free. We gathered what we could from the cave that might serve us in the future and set out to make our way down the mountainside to reunite with our family. Surely they would be surprised when they saw the long thought dead Bloodstone Brothers walk again!
She could just barely make out the foundation of the tower as nature had grown over the remains of the ruins. Vines snaked through stone blocks holding them firmly in place. Saplings sprouted where the beds use to lay. Nature has a way of taking what man steals from her bosom and returning it back to it's rightful place. An old wooden sign lay wedge in between two stones, Ozara kicked free the placard and read "Bloodstone Manor". She was at his home, or what was left of it. It had been a while since someone had lived there and like all things, the tower had decayed to rubble. Sifting through the remains of stone and trash left behind from raiders and theives, something caught her eye in the pale moonlight. A small piece of bronze barely glinted behind the dried leaves on the ground. She knelt down and swiped away the leaves revealing a leather bound journal, clasped shut by a bronze lock.....it was her brother Ervin's journal. Her eyes filled with tears as she clutched it to her chin, it still had the faint smell of his pipe. It had been years since she last saw him or his twin brother Irvin for that matter. She quickly stowed the journal in to her pouch and mounted her steed, "Let's go home" she whispered in his ear and away they went. Her mind raced back and forth thinking of the journal, hoping it would explain why Ervin disappeared, and that it might lead to him again....alive she prayed. Her thoughts came as fast as lightning, the horse on the other hand was enjoying a winter's evening trot.
