A Record of Duty

[Raksha]

The journal that lay on the desk of the Four Lanterns' corner room, the one now under near-permanent rent by the Order of the Vigilant Eye, would have been considered remarkable only because it was a journal, a book bound in leather in a land where even a sheet of paper or parchment was a luxury. It bore no special detailing, not even the gold embossing on the spine that was common for the blank books of its kind.

The first page bore a single line, centered in the middle and written in a strong hand:

A Record of the Duty of Tamara Roth

A blank page, and then the writing began, in the same hand though with less emphasis.

Death is a curious thing. Sometimes, I wonder what adventurers lose in seeing death as an obstacle or an inconvenience rather than an end. For the common folk, and for those who do not regularly dine with monarchs, death is indeed an end; for thousands who die alone in the countryside, or with family around their beds, or on battlefields as part of the rank and file, there is a last rite and a burial and that is the end. At least, for the fortunate ones.

For those of us who have ascended beyond, however; who have the means to cheat death for a time, it becomes... nearly trivial. Not quite, but nearly. We gasp in horror as we see our friends fallen on the field, then instant ask... who has a scroll? Where is a cleric? There is no mourning or celebration of the deeds of the fallen, no final rest, no... conclusion. Perhaps this is for the best, but it insulates us from the reality of what it is to come to an end.

I thought my end had come. An ambush, a dark cleric, and a death spell -- no one to pull me to the land of the living in time, and my soul was cut free. Torm sheltered me, took me in his arms to the House of the Triad, and I thought that I would live the rest of eternity in that blessed place. As it was, I was called back once again -- to fight, live, love. I do not begrudge it at all, for I was able to keenly appreciate on my return what true death does to those who are not prepared for it. I realized how much pain my passing had caused for my friends, for my family. For Kai.

Therefore, I am writing this journal as a record of my duty -- partially for myself, to expunge anything that is on my heart that I will not say aloud, and partially for those who survive me when I do fall for the last time. Perhaps it is an act of pride, but I wish for them to have something of me that is more than a sword to hang over the mantlepiece. Something that expresses who I was as a person, not as an animated sword of Torm.

Let this stand, then, as a record of my ongoing duty -- my successes, my failures, my dreams and ambitions, and my life. May whoever reads this find something of value in what I have written.

Tamara Roth

[Raksha]

17 Tarsakh 1392 [Wild Magic]

There is not much to write in this entry, for I have said most of what I needed to say of "deep significance" in the introduction. Heh. I hope this doesn't become required reading for would-be paladins, or anything like that. Paladin-candidates, if you are reading this and some stuffy priest is making you find deep meaning in it, show them this passage and then hit them with the book. Hard, like you mean it. Go ahead, I told you it was okay.

I sometimes marvel at how well Kai and I fit together. Were I a different person, I might convert to Sune. How else would I have met him as the first person in the land, after collecting my pay from the wagonmaster? I still remember how he looked in his adamantine uniform plate... long purple cloak... just standing near the gate, looking around. Vigilant. He is much the same man now, at least to the outside. When he is with me, though, he is... gentle, passionate, loving. At times, I wish he would show that face to the world more often. There are many who complain of his callousness; I simply smile and shake my head at them.

If he ever kisses me in public, and he initiates it, I think I will die of joy on the spot.

Came to a conclusion today about my stance. It's too open. I need a shield to cover my off-side when I'm facing foes that can take advantage of it, which is difficult though not impossible to work with a greatsword. One of the Lionhearts showed me the technique once, the forward grip and more controlled strokes that allow a greatsword to be used one-handed. Seeing it and doing it are completely different matters, though, and I need practice.

One of the vampires dropped an axe on my body as a grave offering up in their foul lair. I still have it, fastened to the side of my pack. It's a fine weapon, better balanced than anything I've seen at Foulbreath's. The blade is chill, also; I suspect it originally belonged to an Unthgardt. Perhaps if I am able to find a suitable heavy shield at Immovable Objects, I will be able to begin practicing the technique. An axe is head-heavy enough that I can almost pretend it's a greatsword.

Envy is the scourge of the mind. I must not envy Kegan. It would be nice to have such control of the divine, but it will come in due time, when I am ready for it.

Kai is a wonder. He won the barehanded brawl competition, and he was barely sweating up until that match with Tass. And that was mostly because he had to guard his groin-- for which I am grateful, by the way. I have not given up on the idea of children yet. The man never ceases to amaze me.

The female vampire makes me uncomfortable. What in the hells does she mean by "play"? And do I really want to know? I sometimes think it would be better to smite her and have done with it, but unfortunately that's really not a valid option. I hate vampires.

[Raksha]

28 Tarsahk 1372 [Wild Magic]

I'm pregnant. And I'm not ready for it yet.

When I look back, it was less than a day or two after my previous entry. Two specters appeared to me and Kai when we were on evening patrol in the Necropolis. They appeared as versions of ourselves, but dark, twisted -- fallen. Or perhaps just with different fashion sense, but I could never see Kai willingly wearing spikes like that. They also seemed darker -- brooding. What disaster had befallen the land in the two years that my double claimed had past was not made clear, but there was something regarding an "Age of Shadow" and something dire sweeping across the land.

And there was a child. Leigh. Her name was Leigh. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, even distorted by whatever sorcery had conjured up these illusions, or whatever time seperated these visions of a possible future from the present. I retired to the room with Kai that night suffering from the pain of knowing how unlikely and impractical it would be to bring a child forth into this world -- especially now, especially with so much depending on me.

I forgot to take the birthsbane leaf. Just that night, it slipped my mind in the turmoil. We made love as we usually did...

And not five days later, my specter appeared to me again. She told me what I had forgotten. She told me that just that once had been sufficient. I was carrying our child.

I didn't believe her. I went to the clerics of the Triumvirate, to Melchior of Ilmater, and had him scry me. My shade had been telling the truth -- I was going to give birth. There was an anchor to another soul there, however weak.

My cycle is now nearly a tenday past due, and I have accepted the fact that this is truth. Part of me cries out against the timing, with Shesara revealing herself and the Necropolis brimming with as many undead as ever, with vampires roaming free and unchecked, with portents of this Age of Shadows about. Sometimes, I feel as though the crest of a wave of darkness is breaking over us, and the times that we know now will seem a bright and cheerful memory compared to what is to come. I would like to shake the feeling, but it has been a long time since I had any genuine hope. Duty and resolution are all that keep me going.

Now, I have a new duty. I must protect the child. I cannot surrender my others; that simply cannot happen, because there are too few defending the land, too many and too numerous that would tear it down. My training tells me that next to the lives of the people of Sundren, my life and the life of my child mean nothing. But -- somehow, I cannot agree with that assessment. What I carry within me... as well as Kai's life, and my own, have become precious in a way that I could not have anticipated. Perhaps this is why paladins are discouraged from truly bonding with others. It becomes difficult to throw away one's life in sacrifice when one appreciates how deeply it will wound others.

Dammit, I wish Kai would be more reasonable about raiding that place. I fear for him every time he goes into the crypts. I would ask why I couldn't have married a reasonable man, but I'm not one to talk. Heh.

I desperately wish that he would offer to marry me. I want to be his, and no one else's, for as many years as I live on the Prime, and in Celestia afterwards. In some way, I believe that the two of us fit together in a way that many will never find. I cherish it in the rare moments that he will show affection to me in private, and I see it in his eyes even when he salutes me and says "Sergeant". Love shows though. ...and now I sound like a Sunite. Blegh.

I'm wondering how much longer I can keep this secret. People are beginning to notice my drop in activity, in how much more cautious I am now. Perhaps it was never meant to be a secret; perhaps I should share it far and wide. But Abigale is already judging me for having conceived before marriage. I know that others will as well.

Ask me, Kai. Ask me. I want to say yes. I have wanted to say yes ever since you held me after the drow collared me and forced me to become their whore.

I'm not ready for this. Torm, help me. I want to do my duty. I just don't know how.