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Notes from the North [Journal] - Melkire - 07-13-2015
Thirteenth Sun of the Fourth Astral Moon,
I have decided to keep a journal. Time slips from me here in the frigid wastes; a fog or a blizzard can last for bells on end, and I am not accustomed as I once was to tracking Althyk’s passage in absence of Azeyma's Light. At the very least, by these entries I shall not lose the suns or moons. The bells themselves matter little up here, it seems.
We have come north in search of much. Our friends, our comrades in arm, are yet missing. Korofi, Xinkei, Sazi, and Farchild have yet to respond to any hails over the company pearl. Our contacts reported no sightings, no word, from any of them in the south. Neither Vylbrand nor Thanalan have seen hide or hair, and the Shroud is far too wild and treacherous to ever know for sure. There is a chance we may yet find them here in Coerthas or the lands beyond.
That said, they are not the only reason for this sojourn. Ishgard calls for aid, and I would have the Dauntless answer, given the state of affairs back at home. Ul’dah is quiet, and what word we have of the internal affairs of the Syndicate speak to stability. Yet we, the company, are not stable. We have lost a third or more of our men and women to disappearances, unaccounted absences. Those left to us are too young, fresh recruits for the most part, and I mean to see their steel hardened and tempered. There is no action to be had near the Jewel for some time yet, so where better than in the cold, facing the heat of Dravanian fire? At least by offering up our arms, we might help to stabilize the Holy See and, in doing so, keep the Empire at bay.
There is also the matter of mutual profit to consider. Renewed hostilities have Ishgard throwing open their gates to outsiders, and so men and women of worth - artisans, craftsmen, merchants, and so on – will flock to the city in droves. Procurement of allies, partners, resources… these are vital for a fledgling company. Though we have built ourselves a small reputation, we’ve yet to prove ourselves to the Hall through any large-scale efforts. The good we might do here for ourselves and the Jewel might win us valuable considerations.
Alas, Ishgard must needs wait. We rode long and hard, and circumstance saw us leaving some of our number to follow in our wake. Kahn’a, I am sure, will have no issue; he is familiar with the Shroud, and should timing prove fortunate, he might find himself accompanied by Anzio, who knows these cold lands better than either of us. The demon Nergahl was absent at the appointed hour, which I find myself thankful for. He is an imposing and intimidating figure, most unlike Seitsuda. Anyroad, we must take our rest at the Observatorium for now; though they are loathe to confess it, Gladepetal and I are both weary, and I would not push on when the little one clearly needs her rest.
Thankfully, Evangeline Primrose proved herself graceful and practical tonight, and was awaiting our arrival, having arranged for a minor reception of sorts. This “Ser Mar†she introduced us to seems the very heart, soul, spirit, and spitting image of our northern allies. A courteous guest, he, though his offer of lodgings in Dragonhead, while appreciated, do not bode well. I had hoped we might be offered a place in the city itself, where we might do the most good and benefit well therefrom. Alas, no such offers from the state. We shall have to take Eva up on her suggestion; I am told there is at least one inn of note that might serve.
Kanaria has seen to arranging our dinner; we shall feast and then likely collapse. The morrow will see us in Dragonhead and, pending the resolution of logistical and political obstacles, perhaps Ishgard itself.
I have never been religious; spiritual at best, one might say. Nevertheless, I cannot help but be thankful that Oschon has guided us this far. I can only pray that Halone might shield us from what is to come.
Chief Flame Sergeant
Osric Melkire
of the Dauntless
RE: Notes from the North [Journal] - Melkire - 07-21-2015
Twenty-first Sun of the Fourth Astral Moon,
There is not much to record for posterity's sake where goings-on are concerned. Eight suns have passed since we reached the Observatorium. Two nights hence found us on the last leg of our journey to our lodgings here in Dragonhead. That we spent half a fortnight recovering was a given, considering the distances involved in reaching Coerthas from Thanalan by natural means. The usual method as employed by adventurers was not an option; several of us had yet to attune, and so we took to our steeds.
Anyroad, we are here now. There is a room set aside for the family, and bunks aplenty upstairs for the rest of the company. There is food and drink to be had, and warmth by the hearth, and many a soul with which to converse. Though the camp itself is sparsely populated, this keep houses most who are stationed at Dragonhead. The Ishgardians seem amicable on the whole, if not overtly friendly. We've had little trouble with Master Gladepetal's... unusual circumstances... but we expect this to change upon arrival in the city proper. To ignore the inevitable would be unwise. He and I have discussed the matter at some length. Measures will be taken for his protection.
Painted Moon for one, perchance. That the Hall sends new "recruits" after us is somewhat of a surprise; that they send us the dregs of society, somewhat less so. We seem to have earned ourselves a reputation. The Dauntless began as dissenters, and said dissenters have had a history of rehabilitation, whether themselves or those whom they are close with. Moon seems a rough sort: muscle, enforcer, the kind of individual that Ki might appreciate, the sort who is in for the coin and not for the glory or the honor or the duty. I do not anticipate difficulties at this time. She is of a sort familiar to me, and though the cycles grow long, I am not so far removed from my past as to have forgotten how to converse with such folk. Matters might take a turn for the worse once she is introduced to Primrose or Grimsong, and I am certain that Korofi will have his troubles, but for now the chain of command should prove sufficient. She will prove an efficient guardian, I am sure.
I cannot abide waiting much longer. If there is no word soon from Evangeline or her knight in shining armor, then I shall take with me those who wish to experience the Holy See and make for Isghard itself. At the least, I should like to station someone therein before returning to Dragonhead. If I have my way, our company entire will be housed there within the next few suns.
The weather yet weighs on us. "Pissing cold," as I am wont to say.
Chief Flame Sergeant
Osric Melkire
of the Dauntless
RE: Notes from the North [Journal] - Melkire - 08-01-2015
First Sun of the Fourth Umbral Moon,
We are well situated now, I believe. Having fetched Seitsuda from Dragonhead not two nights past, our complement here in Ishgard now numbers a mere four individuals. Five, if we can rely upon Althea Mourelz. No one in their right mind would count the child, and so I exclude her, though I feel a mention necessary for the record.
I have gotten ahead of myself. One should always start at the beginning unless one is spinning tales of fancy. To be honest, at times our lives are so hectic that they may as well have been penned by a mad goddess. In short: Nymeia, you heartless bitch. From the beginning, then. Althyk would deem that wise.
We set out from Thanalan a fortnight ago. As this record attests, we were offered lodgings in Camp Dragonhead. There we abided, awkward though our situation was. We had come north in search of friends and in search of challenge, to seek allies and to hone our skills. To earn coin and to recruit those of like minds. To grow, both on individual scales and as a company. Apparently, I failed to make clear the extent of our purpose here to our gracious hosts, and so we found ourselves sequestered, humbled by generosity and yet rankling with resentment at having been barred from our destination.
Several suns ago, we took matters into our own hands. With the exception of Master Gladepetal, with whom we came to a consensus to leave behind, we set out for the Gates of Judgment. That damnable blizzard had not yet let up, and so it was slow going, though the distance was not nearly as great as those we had already traversed and we had the advantage of familiarity with the terrain, given our recent contributions to the defense of Whitebrim. Anyroad, we saw ourselves to the Gates soon enough, and a few quick words with the knights on duty made the matter clear. Though passage is permitted to those capable of lending aid to Ishgard, either in her defense or in her succor, the city is filled to the brim, nearly to capacity. The stores may not hold out, and the Temple Knights are having a logistical nightmare in keeping things organized. For this reason, apparently, are those such as ourselves not offered lodgings within the city itself. There are simply none to spare, and what there is to be had can only be had at great expense.
I came north prepared for such expenses.
We are quartered at the Cloud Nine inn as I write; it is a small, humble affair within the Forgotten Knight. The rooms here are not as luxurious as those of the Hourglass, nor as comfortable as those of the Mizzenmast, yet they will serve. Pretty coin for not so pretty accommodations is a minor matter until such time as my purse lightens.
We were pleasantly surprised to encounter Althea on our first night here. Though we were disheartened to learn that she has had neither word nor news of our friends, her account of the local attitude towards Seitsuda's people raises hopes that a demon will not readily be mistaken for a dragon, and that even if such confusion comes to pass, it might readily be resolved so long as he takes care to walk with friendly company about him at all times.
Miss Mourelz herself is somewhat of a mystery. We first met her during the hunt for Hound; since then, she has proven a willing friend and ally, though the extent of her skills and prowess are not truly known to us. Her garb of several nights past made me wonder whether she'd laid her staff aside for more martial pursuits.
As mentioned at the outset of this entry, we have recently fetched Seitsuda from the camp. He and Painted Moon should prove sufficient to look after the others while I am gone. Painted Moon in particular has shown a soft spot for our little girl; having witnessed that, my apprehension has eased somewhat where the ruffian is concerned, though the thought of our coming trials has me feeling somewhat nauseous.
Kanaria intends to seek out the dragoons in order to build upon the scant training she once had under the tutelage of an old friend. I have found mercenary work for the company to pursue in the meantime, a job that might earn us some coin and recognition. Truth be told, to catch the attention of one of the Great Houses would be ideal. As for myself... there was an altercation some suns past, down in the Brume. I find myself caught between a rock and a hard place, forced to comply and tasked to aid an old acquaintance in his efforts to stomp out a mutual threat before it festers and poisons us all. I shall be gone for a few suns, twice every fortnight until such time as I am released from obligation and the threats to myself and mine have passed.
Here, now, at my desk, writing by candlelight, I find that my shivers have little to do with the cold that is associated with these frigid lands.
Chief Flame Sergeant
Osric Melkire
of the Dauntless