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Journals of a Vagrant [Two Grave Tongue]

Entry of 14th First Seed
Stead of the Warrior

The Legio Luporum has fallen.

How is it that five simple words, arranged in such a fashion, can convey the certainty of such a tragedy with little regard to the gravity of it's implications?

Yet, although I desired more from those five words I had to realize that the truth was an emotionless and indifferent beast.

The Legio Luporum had fallen.
And that was that.


My memories of the last few months range between a gamut of extremes: to one end, I bore witness to the annihilation of the legion I once commanded and the slaughter of those I had considered my comrades, to the other, I existed in dull moments within the quietness of a impoverished room and confined to the embrace of a rigid and indifferent bed. I have learned that I cannot trust myself in my current state, as the emotional tempest which swirls within me allows me no berth for a return to normalcy. In short: in a moment's notice and without reasoning I burst forth into fits of rage or lament over what has transpired.

Which sensible individual wouldn't?

I had awoken within a quaint room of which I would later learn to be within the Rosy Lion establishment of Daggerfall. Within the meager confines of the room was gathered a scattering of rustic furnishings with more functionality as opposed to charm: a rickety bed, an armoire which had been scarred by a myriad nicks and stains of unknown or forgotten origin and a pathetic and flimsy appearing table and chair. The chair was currently occupied by a young colovian whom, with head held low, claimed the countenance of one whom was lost in troubled thoughts.

Maximilius Larum.

Maximillus Larum, a miles of the legion, had a natural affinity with medicine and claimed a steady hand. It was due to these facilities which he possesses that the lad had been assigned to the medicus regiment, under the guidance of magister Jah’Halarin. In time and to his credit, miles Larum had begun to earn a reputation for himself of being a mender of great competence. This surge in popularity for the miles was something which magister Jah’Halarin always gloated (a vain attempt to fool the unaware that he had some influence in the lad's fate) even though the poor lad was frustratingly modest and became flushed with embarrassment when spoken to upon the subject.

My senses had been dulled as I hadn’t noticed the colovian had been looking at me with a dumbstruck gaze. I returned the look in kind.
He broke the silence.

“Le…legate!” He uttered, seemingly in disbelief.

“Miles Larum.” I began, although my voice was distored, hoarse and broken. The pains of a parched throat from a weakend soul. "It seems as though I have been overlong upon my holiday. I hope you came here to remedy that."

The lad, whose golden hair fell over his piercing blue eyes, smiled as tears began to gather at the edges of his eyes. "Legate Two Grave Tongue!" He said as he stood from upon the filmsy wooden chair and made his way to my bed side. A shaft of light, a protrusion from a hole within the nearby wall, fell upon the lad and gave him a divine aura.
"Legate, there was little hope that you would return to the mortal plane." He said from behind a bittersweet smile.

Through a fit of coughs I softly replied, "Milady Dibella would be amiss if I wasn't around to spread her faith within Mundus!"

In reaction to my response Miles Larum chuckled at first, yet, as his bottled emotions claimed him, his chuckling turned to laughter until, weary of struggling with his grief, he began to cry. He stood there and cried in baleful wails, until he fell upon his knees and cried heartedly. And I did nothing to hinder him.

I eventually stumbled back into a troubled slumber, yet the thought of Miles Larum did bring some solace to my worries.

The Legio Luporum had fallen and within this defeat a great sacrifice was made by our comrades and allies of which we could never repay. Yet, although we had fallen the Legio Luporum wasn't extinguished - the miles was proof of that. We would survive. We would endure. And when the time came we would repay our enemies their kindness, for our fallen friends, ten fold.

The Legio Luporum had fallen.

True! But...

The Legio Luporum wasn't conquered.

Five simple words.
Edited by jarnkoldur on March 14, 2018 11:31PM
"And when the truth finally dawns, it shall dawn in fire!"
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