Ravenloft: Prisoners of the Mist

Within the swirling Mist (IC) => Biographies => Topic started by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on April 11, 2012, 12:56:58 PM

Title: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on April 11, 2012, 12:56:58 PM
4/11/767

Spring has come to my homeland. The longer daylight hours as yet do little to thaw the bitter cold of this country.  I might have enjoyed remaining in Darkon, but such petty preferences, as to the weather, are not to be indulged by the truly devout.

I find the congregation here, to be in greater strength than when I was last serving here. The work of Inquisitor Poisson can be seen; the heretical and unorthodox ways of the second revelation extremists have been cast out of Her Holy Refuge of Fifth Light. Ezra be praised.

I have suggested, however, that some effort to reform the lost followers be made.  I am uncertain of the circumstances surrounding such a challenge, but I have urged the Home Faith to open their doors so that Ezra's children can return to the light.  They would have to choose their love of Holy Ezra over their love of pagan blood witches and their taint, however.

I have considered the vow of Chastity. I had, at one time, looked forward to being a father, but with the Revelation of the Time of Unparalleled Darkness, I cannot bear the thought of bringing a child into this world, knowing they may not even reach adulthood before the Legions of the Night come forth.  Service to Our Guardian in the Mists can be lonely.  Pleasure demons, as the holy Inquisitor warned of, can be seen here, by the swath of broken faith they cut in their path.  Constant vigilance and endurance of faith are required for our very survival.

I am displeased to learn that the Home Faith in Barovia has been performing baptisms to other sects.  This unorthodox practice is harmful, at large, as I am certain that some amount of bias is transmitted. I have come to know some of the Home Faith wardens, and I am confident in their knowledge, but you will not see me officiating the baptism of anyone outside the Fourth Revelation.  I am to understand the Church ruled in favor of this fringe policy, a ruling I expect comes from the Praesidius himself.

The matter of my investigation into the ordination of other sects, however, has been met with no compliance. I have been directed again and again to the church records... which are severely lacking.  I understand that, in such a rural area as Vallaki, the conventions of more educated and populated congregations are not observed, but perhaps this is due some consideration.  Warden Hyde of the Pure Hearts will for now be my sample to work from.  If he was given his anchorite trial by the Home Faith, they will have severely overstepped their bounds, in my opinion.  These, heretical ordinations, may in the end help to serve and educate the community here, but it is just another black mark upon the leadership of the Sentire, whom the Inquisition has reprimanded directly. I feel a great sympathy for Sentire Constinus, because one man can only do so much to keep order in the midst of so many heathen religions poisoning the minds of the people, not to mention the ever-present threat of the Legions of Night.  The unity of the flock is critical.

I am planning to address the congregation, to assert the point that the Mission of the Church of Ezra in Barovia, is that of the Home Faith. While many of other sects, seem to interpret this to mean, they are not in the Home Faith's jurisdiction, this is wildly mistaken.  The duties of conversion and charities should be directly overseen by the Home Faith, and the efforts of other sects should be complimentary to this. There are too many free agents. There must be order. To refuse to submit to the authority of the Home Faith in Vallaki, is to refuse Ezra. With some proper organization, and planning, I believe we will accomplish much together.


I would also write of the profound change in Templar Heris. When I suggested he request assignment in Barovia, I wasn't certain the Pure Hearts would oblige.  I intend to work closely with him to temper his wisdom.  His compassion could be easily squandered on caliban, or other wretches, and I don't intend to let that happen.  He will also help me to, at least in appearance, soften the Fourth Sect views that are so heavily scrutinized.  Whatever demon has villified the holy works of the Fourth Revelation to this congregation will be stamped out, in time. I will do whatever it takes.

Beata Ezra,
Warden Ovidiu Lacusta
Title: Re: Shepherd of Locusts
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on April 16, 2012, 01:08:52 PM
4/16/767

I am pleased to write that I have met a few Fourth Sect members.  I am sure they have suffered from a lack of proper leadership; I don't know the whereabouts of Warden Creek, for that matter.  While our vows are, without a doubt, made to the Fourth Revelation, I believe it to be of critical importance that the followers of the Fourth in this country know the parameters of our mission and what is expected of them.

Free agents acting on their own, is unacceptable.  Despite our differences in attitude or theological opinions, our role in Barovia is to supplement the Mission of the Home Faith, not pursue our own desires.  I cannot reiterate this enough, as there seems to be some ongoing confusion about this.

Last night, I was standing in the lobby of the Rectory when a hooded woman wearing anchorite robes walked up to Warden di Morello and I.  The woman inquired, to confirm Warden di Morello's identity, and turned to me saying, "Sorry, wrong place, wrong time."

"Caterina di Morello, it is time for you to die."

My veins surged, my mind recalling my training.  I snapped out Thruster, a shortsword I have taken a liking to, favoring it in this instance because I could free it from it's sheathe easier than Ezra's longsword.  The extra few seconds proved to be critical - the assassin was skilled and had nearly reduced Warden di Morello to a bloody heap in no time at all.  If she had been alone, there would have been no hope.  I was able to time a few well placed shots, and opened up more than one vital artery.  The Borcan woman turned her blade on me, giving Warden di Morello preciously needed time to recover herself.  A distillation of wolves tail and bleak cap was also a great help as I fended off the assassins blows.

Finally, invoking the light of Ezra, Warden di Morello smote the woman a killing blow, ending the struggle.  There was blood all over the lobby, splattered upon the walls.  The grout between the tiles in the floor mosaic still needs to be cleaned more, but I didn't notice this until this morning.  The Borcan woman had only a vial of Hemlock poison on her.  Her body is being kept under supervision in the upstairs shrine.

We were shocked to learn that Warden Milea and sister Carina had also been assailed.  Their would-be killer had the same poison and may have also been a Borcan, perhaps. We have for now agreed to keep this attack private to the congregation... it would not do Her church any service to be further associated with the Borcan stereotypes we struggle against.

In Ezra's holy name I write,
Beata Ezra
Warden Lacusta

Title: Re: Shepherd of Locusts
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on April 19, 2012, 10:28:05 AM
4/19/767

The sermon is tomorrow.  Since the arrival of the Borcan Ambassador, the attacks seem to have subsided - but I can't sleep soundly yet.  He and that Inquisitor seemed to fawn over our two Borcan anchorites - was it that they were surprised to find the Wardens alive?  I am known to them now.  I suspect the next attempt will be on my life... and I am ready.

Our work must proceed.  Warden di Morello spoke wisely, to say that all our activities must remain as they were... as if we suspect nothing.  I am reluctant to write of the acolyte I am now training, I would keep him secret from these Poisoners if I can.  The laymen, too, will be an exciting addition to our chapter of the Fourth.   Perhaps these corrupted swine are just what we needed to galvanize us. You weren't expecting the Fourth Revelation, were you, Duloq?

I know that you tried to have my sisters removed before your arrival... I can sense your wicked thoughts, I can hear the flick of your serpents tongue. O'Ezra, you sharpened me to see this iniquity cleft from your flock.  We are but a scattering of dim scars in a sky of deepest black.

In Ezra's holy name I pray,
Warden Lacusta
Title: Re: Shepherd of Locusts
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on April 23, 2012, 08:20:16 PM
4/23/767

To date, there have been four assassins sent.  The latest news is that we believe our Sentire may be the next target.  The flock grows in spite of this.  New laymen seem to arrive, as old wardens return, every other day.

I am... so frustrated at the bureaucracy, though. I feel it necessary to take matters into my own hands. This is why, when I requested to be sent to Barovia, after my ordination; my superiors must have seen my purpose in the Grand Scheme.

Ezra, make steady my blade.

Warden Lacusta
Title: Re: Shepherd of Locusts
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on April 25, 2012, 06:43:45 PM
4/25/767.

What's done cannot be undone.  The mutilation of the Heretic was a viable alternative to ending her life and that of her caliban child.  They all suspect me, some of them fear me, and I would have it no other way.

I can't believe how poorly educated the Ezrites are here.  That the pretty one would be defending the Druids as if she herself were a pagan, is rather shocking to me.  Any "bond with the land" is invariably a bond with the Hollow and thus the Mists of Death.  Calling upon the earth and the "Natural" elements is inviting the daemonic host of the Legions into one's very body.  This is not unique to the Fourth Sect, either, my dears.

Regardless of that matter, the Sentire did not seem displeased.  In fact, quite the opposite.  As I have broken no tenets, broken none of the Count's trei laws, and shown my willingness to commit self sacrifice... I believe I have found my role in Barovia.  I have in fact sworn to defend the faithful of the church... let the treatment of the Heretic send a message to the Borcan charlatans.

Warden di Morello is a little safer.  If a threat against any good Ezrite falls upon my ears, the instigator will wish, truly, that they could have died in their sleep.  Such is the punishment I offer to these, heathens, these heretics, the witches and the unclean.

In Her name, Ezra bless.

Warden Lacusta
Title: Re: Shepherd of Locusts
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on April 26, 2012, 02:55:04 AM
Outrage on the Fifth Day.

"They had me arrested during mass!"

"Blasphemy!"

"They've no proof..."

"Why'd they give you up so easily?" that gracious garda asked.

Then he came, and he took away all my burdens...

"...act of heroism..."

"champion of Ezra..."

The delirium, as the torture began, the cutting and the burning, the savage imprecision. Nothing like his art work. And not the lashing the Inquisition wanted, either.

The blood and humility! The suffering!  Then... Visions of the Guardian... of the Mists...

Of things to come.
Title: Re: Shepherd of Locusts
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on April 26, 2012, 04:54:41 PM
Deep in the Citadel of the municipality of Vallaki, where no light can enter, the man named Ovidiu awakens from a deep slumber.

He dreamt vividly... blurring the line between what really was, and what could be.

"Our mission has begun..."

Were those words real? Or simply an echo of his hearts desire?

Pain. His face, chest and thighs, brutally carved up, badly burnt, cauterized.  He had lost so much blood.  His eyes were swollen shut.  If there was a torch light filtering in between the bars of his cell, he wouldn't have known.

With trembling fingers and blood-caked lips, the broken man sits upright, writhing into a posture worthy of invoking Ezra.  He knew the words to ease his suffering...

He recited the words for several minutes.  Yet it seemed that deep in the bowels of the Citadel, isolated from the rest of the world, no comfort would come to him, despite his earnest plea to the Guardian in the mists.
Title: Re: Shepherd of Locusts
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on April 28, 2012, 02:01:54 AM
4/27/767

As I write this I am ordered by the "interim Sentire" to retire to the Rectory.  I am the extremist? Her title is still Toret until she is made a Sentire.  Yet here I am, censured by her, she won't even acknowledge that I've already confessed. That I've already repented. She won't let me speak. Do my actions somehow call into question my loyalty? I am fiercely loyal... Even being absolved, I still feel the weight of this. These wounds mend slow, they need to understand... As the inquisitor said, the ways of serving are multifold.

I can see Ezra's light, better than ever before.
Ezra bless,
Warden Lacusta
Title: Re: Shepherd of Locusts
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on May 01, 2012, 03:56:01 PM
5/1/767

The Festival approaches.  I'm making preparations for the distillations I will offer to the congregation, and other little mundane details. In her wisdom, the acting Sentire has graciously offered to lift my censure on the upcoming holy day.

Perhaps she believes this will relieve the pressure upon anchorite Costinus... I do wish that were the case.  As flattered as I am to earn the attention of the Borcans, politically speaking, my agenda is not political.

I will drive the proverbial nail into Mugur's coffin; a nail he cast himself from his own inadequacy.

And they will defend his heresy with misplaced loyalty.

In Ezra's holy name I write,
Warden Lacusta
Title: Re: Shepherd of Locusts
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on May 09, 2012, 01:37:33 AM
5/8/767

I had a disturbing vision.  In it, I locked eyes with none other than the heretic.  I sensed that she was aware of me, much as I am aware of her.  Very disturbing.  Detestable wretch!

In light of this I am taking a short hiatus to reflect and pray.  Sinister forces are at work in my homeland, moreso than ever.  A man proclaiming himself the Clarion of the "Fifth" sect has made himself known.

When I have gathered myself I intend to interrogate him.  There is much work to be done.

Beata Ezra,
Warden Lacusta
Title: Re: Shepherd of Locusts
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on May 15, 2012, 02:01:54 PM
5/15/767

Fifth day... I have prepared a fine enough sermon.  There are many seeking the Fourth Revelation in this forsaken country and I am so pleased to provide Her salvation to them.

Training continues on it's course, but we're still poorly equipped.  I had almost beheaded that werewolf, but the others kept attacking... I need to submit my report on that incident, still.

If I suffer that Morninglord Priestess and her audacious preaching again, I may just bloody her lips, that woman should know her place.

Beneath Ezra.

IIII

Title: Re: Shepherd of Locusts
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on May 15, 2012, 07:48:25 PM
Lacusta's Anatomy chart

Quote
This document for Ezrites contains a summary of contents to broaden a knowledge of medicine in the reader.

It is to be noted that due to the demonistic mutations present in many living Servants of the Legions of the Night, a contrast of different anatomies is necessary for the serious student.

Creatures such as trolls, caliban, or the Beasts that Rend, are equally comparable for their "near human" physiology.The Anchorites of the Last Redoubt have battled and overcome all sorts of terrible incarnations of evil.  See next a skeletal comparison of a human with a horrific servant of a legion.

*A sketch depicting some training material possibly used in Nevuchar Springs, Darkon.*
(http://img849.imageshack.us/img849/3504/humanvslegiondrawing.jpg) (http://imageshack.us/photo/my-images/849/humanvslegiondrawing.jpg/)

These skeletal comparisons are a necessary foundation to understanding that, the bodies of all beings in the Hollow follow certain laws of composition, as you see here, the exclusion existing in the unliving Legions of the Night, a topic to which this document is not relevant.  To the conclusion I present the points of critical anatomical importance; those ones usually targeted on the field of battle.

*The document seems to exclude the reproductive organs completely*
(http://img36.imageshack.us/img36/6107/organanatomy.jpg) (http://imageshack.us/photo/my-images/36/organanatomy.jpg/)

The document is left unsigned.
Title: Re: Shepherd of Locusts
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on May 21, 2012, 11:14:36 AM
5/21/767

Today I write of a prediction.  That the mistakes of the predecessor will be exceeded by the successor.  I have seen the face of corruption in this church, and I know it's name.

I pray, Ezra grant me the resilience to tolerate another day of listening to that sore upon Her Faithful. 

I have more than once, secretly wished the Time of Unparalleled Darkness would just come, and purge all the vileness I see before me!

I am interrogated in Ezra's church, for an "incident" where all I did was decline to tithe to the Morninglord!  I am villified at every turn!

She shows them more patience than she shows me.  I hate those heathen scum!  Why should I try so hard to avoid them, only to have them "report" to the Sentire about me.  Why wouldn't they.  Her door is always open for heathens.  And witches, that whore Roxanne, the list goes on!  I hate them, Ezra, keep them away!

Now the Sentire defends those laity who were in a pact with a Daemon.  That little imp, Salera, betrothed to a fiend!  There is little left to doubt of the diminished moral capacity in demihuman races.  Now the congregation is harassed by age-old Legions of the Night.  It seems it was quite a mistake to invite them back, the consequences of this are impossible to meter, for now.

I have just watched the passing of my nineteenth birthday.   What a meaningless occurence.  We never celebrated it when I was growing up.  After my mother died to carry me into this world, my father always resented me.  After all is said and done, he's still just a heathen who doesn't accept Ezra. I don't need his approval.

I only need you, Ezra.

W.L.
IIII
Title: Re: Shepherd of Locusts
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on May 29, 2012, 11:20:48 PM
5/29/767

What a peculiar thing it is to watch, as the spider responds to a vibration in it's web.  First, Warden Morello moves in to ask me how I'm doing. How I'm feeling. What sentimental women they are, they place so much emphasis on a truly fairy tale church.  Warden Morello is like a blunt tool for a precision task anyway, it's not hard to see she's soliciting my opinion about the Sentire.  It's interesting that you empathize with bias against the Fourth Revelation, in spite of your bias against the Fourth Revelation, Warden.

What unclean, profane things unfold! I can see it clearly.  They've accepted donations from none other than the scheming, conniving temptress herself, SERAFIM! *a few droplets of spittle seem to hit the journal here*

*...another piece of paper, copied lightly*
Quote
« on: October 15, 766 »
...serafim, seems to have some sort of demonic shadow entity around her. -- described it as darkness and black tenticles around her. I am not sure, I do remember that Inquistor Meisser spoke out against Serafirm when I last saw him. It is possible this is her own fault then, nevertheless, it is probaly good to look into the whole picture and what exactly this darkness around her might be.  I suspect this might be some form of the Legion of the Night, it does after all sound similar to the shadows in the sullen woods.

How many eye-witness accounts like this does it take, to prove what a daemonic harlot, what a living extension of the Legions of the Night Serafim truly is!! And now! They're going to build Her sacred church atop a pile of wolf fangs, which were earned in that den of ill repute!

The loathing I have for such negligence is unspeakable!  How can we dare to dedicate this effort to Ezra, and then take funds from whores, from those despicable, lewd folk!  Art commissioned entirely on the fees for the pleasures of the flesh...??

I won't be able to look at it.

IIII
Title: Re: Shepherd of Locusts
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on August 16, 2012, 01:31:19 PM
My sabbatical has ended.

Traveling, and living the capacity of the anchorite always broaden the perspective, especially together.  I cannot say that Krezk feels the same to me anymore, and I felt no more welcome in Teufeldorf.  Given my heritage I've no intention of going so far as Invidia, though; a mission to Sithicus could be interesting.  I have my doubts whether those Elves may be truely saved, but there are those of their kind enough in Darkon.

The work to be done in Barovia, in Vallaki in particular, cannot be stressed in it's importance.  The mission in Darkon thrives, yet in Vallaki, it seems the Legions of the Night and the Mists of Death have influence in every layer.  While the burden of service here is a great one... I've found no other calling to be so fulfilling. 

Everything will be scrutinized, the vellum will be held up against Her light, and the pin-holes of inadequacy will shine through.

W.L.
||||
Title: Re: Shepherd of Locusts
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on August 17, 2012, 03:06:07 PM
8/17/767

I return to Vallaki to learn of the following "policy"

Quote
...a new policy regarding sermons given by visiting clergy.  The senior presiding anchorite must approve all sermons given by those outside of our parish before they can be delivered.  I cannot give specific guidelines on this, just use your better judgment.  Any sermon that may appear to incite or inflame local authorities or citizenry, or be offensive to our laity, should be scrutinized.

It seems that all visiting anchorites are now under censure.  I'm quite sure this doesn't apply to the Home Faith, or their ambassadors, and most certainly targets the Anchorites of the Last Redoubt, and their inquisitors. Perhaps someone spoke out about the tragedy of the death of Heris Jarian.

Heris was a good man, and I will never forget the intolerance and opposition, and the lack of support he was shown by his supposed brothers and sisters in faith.

I certainly have no intentions to forgive it, either.  His blood... is on all our hands.  Watch over me, brother, and may your soul rest in Her Grace.

W.L.
||||
Title: Re: Shepherd of Locusts
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on August 18, 2012, 05:29:31 PM
8/18/767

It is always a whirlwind, coming up to speed with the current caseload of work in this city.

I saw a demon woman in red yesterday, pale like the moon, nearly kill a heathen of an outlander religion...  I've seen Caliban in broad daylight, she-devils the color of soot running around freely... All of these, signs of the impending doom upon the land.

People are nonchalant.  The Legions of the Night creep so slowly into the senses, a werewolf becomes a normal affair! One must harden their resolve to regard these things as the vile filth they are and remain acute in our position against it!

Help arrives from Darkon, the call is being answered... Thank Ezra, we need all the support we can get in these dark times.  Now we must make ready our sword edge, make fast our shield arm... for the war is soon to come.

W.L.

||||
Title: Re: Shepherd of Locusts
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on August 21, 2012, 11:35:46 AM
8/21/767

The heretic brags.  She flaunts aloud that she will rejoin the flock.  The churches camp of long-time supporters of this damned woman, this living extension of the Legions of the Night, surely attempt to subvert the will of the Inquisition.

"It's a matter I would leave for Inquisitional debate," Marcus had said.  There is no debate!  This blight upon the flock has been condemned... Yet, they would unravel my holy work however they can.

If this daemon-thrall, this woman of the night, were actually allowed to re-enter the fold, does anyone think it would truly last?  Do they really imagine this will be successful?  That she won't simply hold the door for any iadul fiends to walk freely into Ezra's house?

I am surrounded by opposition.  What little support we receive, is drowned by the current of Borcan corruption.  Acolytes and laity alike, seek the church and are turned away.  The Borcans discourage and belittle the Fourth Revelation, they'll use their little congenial facade to smear us into the black.

You frightened devils are not perfect, and thank Ezra you do make mistakes.  As your Templar Commander has taken it upon himself to deny the training of one of my templars... you know exactly what we're going to do.

And Templar Commander... I could vomit.  Your pursuit of unlawful carnal knowledge sickens me endlessly.  I will watch as your faith is devoured by that insatiable whore.

W.L.
||||
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on August 27, 2012, 07:17:51 PM
8/27/767

Ezra mourns those who shun the light, who are thus beyond Her reach... but Her scorn falls heavy upon those who turn against Her, those who take up sword against the living gospel...

Mercy does not shine upon their blackened skulls.  Yet there is a role in the Rationi Magna, for each of us... For some, the price of failure is worse than death.

I am to learn that our Sentire will soon face all charges against the church, in the Village.  I pray to Ezra... for an outcome that best serves the congregation.

W.L.
||||

Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on September 07, 2012, 09:12:13 PM
The Warden lit some rosemary incense, as he studied the weathered, heretical book.

The outlander who gave it to him, seemed to know little of it's vileness. Well meaning, the man turned it in to the lawful authority of the church.

The files regarding the heresy were all sealed.  The book was Lacusta's only glimpse of the depravity... and it was quite enough, no, too much for one man to bear.  He had heard much about it in Darkon, but never details.

He closed the book.  There aren't enough hours in the day, he thought.  He couldn'tl make sense of it right now, in the midst of everything.

His attention turned to his road-worn robes.  The robes of the anchorite. In spite of numerous washings and all the incense he could burn, he could not get out the smell.

The ceremonial cloth had become saturated by the thick brown smoke; that smell of burning hair.  The day he would never forget.  A day of true betrayal and loss to the church.  He thought of the blackened skull left over from that day, and the place where it was buried.  He thought of the aspiring templar that he invested so much in, the man he lost face just to defend.

Only to have the same man turn on him and his precious acolyte, and attempt their murder.  As the thoughts cascaded through his mind, he habitually made a sign in the air over himself.  Ezra keep him, Ezra hold him, Ezra insulate him from this wickedness.  Ezra keep this secret.

Ezra bless the brothers that sprang to action... the limbs that rush? No, no...  Fold it up, store it with the wolfsbane and the belladonna, yes, keep it hidden, with the cyanide.

He looked at his other belongings.  Among them, a silvered steel sword, forged by none other than the former templar commander himself.  The blade had to be forged by one of Ezra's children, to be fit for it's intended recipient.  Another artist guilded the precious metals onto the steel, gold letters that shine powerfully, reading "A SCATTERING OF DIM STARS IN A SKY OF DEEPEST BLACK."  Ovidiu had at that time considered the former templar commander to be one of those dim stars... But after seeing the bias that he had for his base urges, toward that whore, the harlot, the viper in the flock... Ovidiu had to consider him forfeit.  His dismissal from the commander position would be muted and downplayed, another cover by the Borcans to keep their precious attack dog safe.

Yet, there were more imminent threats than one corrupted templar.  The Borcans were guilty of so, so much more.  They had refused supplicants of the Fourth Revelation for baptism, for ordination, they had turned away those seeking Ezra's glory.  They had said they must be more educated.  They must have more training.  We must train them.  No, you can't go to Darkon, that's insubordination.  They had done the same thing to Heris Jarian.  And where was he now?  Then the Warden would learn that one of the nuns of that new order, a fringe heresy of its own, one of these nuns did not even know who the Praesidius was.  Did not know what the meaning of the word Bastion was.  Knew nothing of the churches holidays.

Was in fact illiterate all together.  Not a crime, but if she was taught nothing by word of mouth... the fault is on the one who allowed this.  The bias was now clearer than ever.

The blister, the sore, the pox upon the faithful.  The one who condemned him.  The one who tried to ruin him.  The one who put us all in danger.

Alea iacta est, he thought.  He closed his eyes in prayer.
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on September 11, 2012, 06:24:48 PM
Quote
4/27/767
*The letter is written in a diligent, fierce hand*

To his holiness, Inquisitor Meisser,

On 4/22/767, the Vallaki congregation became aware of a credible threat upon Warden di Morello's
life, a threat made in person, by none other than the hedonist defiler Serafim Ianescu.

Warden di Morello had entered the Refuge of Fifth Light distraught and frustrated that, in spite
of the threat posed by the League of Nine and the need for templars to protect the clergy closely, Templar Sinovia instead has chosen to keep company with Ianescu, neglecting his duties.

I voiced my own objections at the Templar taking counsel with heretics or apostates, saying that such efforts are exclusively the duty of the Anchorites.

The Vallaki congregation seems to possess such a great sympathy to this sensualist monster, Ianescu, and her pagan cabal, that her verbal threat to take the life of Warden di Morello fell upon deaf ears.  Warden di Morello herself spoke of ending the threat of this blight upon the faith, in a permanent manner, which others of the home faith criticized, then ignored.

The crimes of Ianescu, and her orgiastic, flesh obsessed predilections are well known by all.  Her livelihood earned running the house of ill repute in the Vallaki slums, has surely enabled her to spend even more time destroying faith and unraveling Ezra's will in the Rationi Magna.

As Serafim has placated, and poisoned the faith of so many, sympathizers, my mounting fear was that she would be able to pursue her threat upon Warden di Morello unchecked, and continue on to destroy any who she could not poison.  Warden di Morello has shown resilient faith and purity of mind regarding the defiler, and I suspect this is why Ianescu would escalate to a threat upon her life.

Among the criticisms defending Ianescu, was Toret Milea's remark that Ianescu carries the child of none other than the excommunicated pagan-witch, Krow.  Such a damned, caliban offspring would only bring further turmoil to the faith, and if carrying such an infernal minion in her womb insulates her from rightful justice, surely all dangerous enemies of the church could simply copulate to render themselves immune to the repercussions of their vile, disgusting conduct.

I, Warden Ovidiu Lacusta of the Fourth Revelation, ordained by Toret Francesca Boyce of Nevuchar Springs, will not abide this while there is breath in my body!

I immediately set aside the necessary tools for Ezra's holy work.  The defiler was easy to find. I had prepared to use the Inquisitive Purging verses, among other prayers, but I knew that prayers alone would not be enough to purge this monster.  I devised a collection of Darkonese Ezrite symbols, Sigilum, canonical to the Fourth Revelation, representing five moral virtues.
Of these symbols, I succeeded in branding her with, Devotion, Repentence, and Chastity.  I was interrupted by, and had to flee the witch Krow before I could complete the other two Sigilum.

Since the faithless political climate of Vallaki certainly prohibited simply ending the life of this wretched woman and her ill-begotten spawn, these Sigilum were deemed by me to be an appropriate level of force to dissuade any attack against Warden di Morello.  In carrying out this work I have made a great sacrifice of my progress, made by tiptoeing around the supposed sensibilities of the faithful, which are still detrimentally saturated by the fickle attitudes of the Pure Hearts.

Additionally, the appropriate placement of my Sigilum would have, in theory, inhibited the flow of blasphemous, pagan or arcane energies.  By marking Ianescu with holy runes of Our Guardian, I was intending to free her from the skeletal grip of the Mists of Death.  Her child, unharmed by my work, would have had a chance to develop rightly in that tainted womb, protected by the symbols from the forces that would twist it's likeness into the Legion-serving, flesh eating caliban that it's unholy parentage would otherwise ensure.

I knew I could trust none in the Vallaki congregation with the merciful piety I bestowed upon that horrible fiend.  Within a single day, the wardens silently ostracized me from meetings on ecclesiastical matters, placing all accusation immediately upon me without the slightest proof, only their speculation.  I offered them nothing in return for their lack of faith.

During the next mass, on the twenty fifth day of the fourth month, just passed, Sentire Costinus publicly interrupted worship to hand me over to the Garda.  It was truly blasphemous and a blow to our veneration of Ezra on Her Holy day.  I was summarily tortured for false charges of murder, the demonization of my holy work made complete, the garda refused to honor the sentence for assault, which I calculated, would have led to release after a few days.  They instead pandered to the, then present, deranged hedonist Ianescu, who because of the Vallaki church's actions, had the full support of the garda.  The Ezrites I had protected from Ianescu had now subjected me fully to her sadistic whims, now empowered by the cruelty of the Garda.

Instead of a conventional punishment, the Vallaki garda dared to emulate the symbology of Ezra as they imitated my Sigilum, upon myself.  They poured alcohol on my wounds, set me on fire, bludgeoning my head with gauntlets while shackled and naked, all in their effort to please the flesh daemon.

Her wretched influence far exceeds even what I originally thought.

Ianescu has surely set the Garda against the Church, such that they would dare to accuse Inquisitor Rowley of bribery and threaten him with a year in confinement. The Sentire's sympathies for her, at best, may be because of his previous failures and feelings of vengeance toward the Fourth Revelation, and at worst may be evidence of an even more base involvement with the sacrilegious, corruptive, half-Vistani desecrator called Serafim Ianescu!

In Ezra's holy name, your humble servant writes.

Warden Ovidiu Lacusta
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on September 13, 2012, 04:13:02 PM
9/13/767

The Defiler still thinks she is welcome in Ezra's holy church.

The Bringer of Ruin, she is truly a blight upon the efforts I make in Ezra's name.

Will she ever destroy enough?  Will her blasphemous appetite never be sated?

I do not think so.  Milea called Sinovia the harlot's Champion.  Why has he not been dismissed completely, now that his carnal nature is known?

Now I am punished, placed under censure again, because I set an example where none was set.

Call it my fault all you will, Milea.  You are the one who keeps allowing Serafim Ianescu to harm the church, even from a distance.

I will be patient and pray.  The Fourth Revelation in this country is nearly a dozen strong, now.  We are going to turn this tide of corruption and smite those who embrace the Mists of Death.

In Ezra's holy name I write,

Warden Lacusta - IV
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on September 14, 2012, 01:20:08 PM
9/14/767

A wounded animal gnashes it's teeth in desperation.  The bourgeois facade fails, as the pin-prick holes of inadequacy show plainly, as the vellum is held to the Light.

Bias.  It is the color scarlet, like Sin, Ezra sees it plainly.  And so do I.

Hubris.  When she suspended me, she actually dared to say, "This is my church."

Blasphemy. No, woman; this is not your church. 

Denial. Do you think the garda are the ones spreading this rumor?  Or is it the Defiler who would have every household despise the church?

I know the answer.

Caterina di Morello would make a most fitting Sentire.  Her demeanor is neutral, her judgement fair; she is approachable.  And she does not openly disparage other sects.

Alea iacta est.  Your move, Milea.

Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on September 16, 2012, 03:00:42 PM
Ovidiu looked once more at the report that his faithful brother had provided him.  Sister Misha had acquired a shadow in the form of this one-armed necromancer.  It had to be him.

DOSSIER # 3


Name: Unknown
Legion Archetype: Necromancer
Pre-Legion Species: Human, Barovian.
Region: Barovia
Status: At large

Known Affilitations: None

Appearance Assessment:This indivual is can be easily identified by the fact he is missing an arm. During the Writer's brief encounter, he appeared wearing furs. White hair, with a poorly trimmed beard.

Personality assessment:

Narcissistic. Legion believes himself to be of some sort of "repute" and subseqeuently arrogant in all mannerisms. Aggressive and quick to anger. Practices the necormantic arts and can raise formidable undead.


Lair Assessment:
 
Unknown, although he was sighted within the Sun Cultist church crypt and grounds. He has made mention of being a resident of the Village of Barovia.


Threat Assessment:

High Risk, given his obscurity and quick-to-violent nature and penchant for raising the corpses of the living to undeath. Ezra cannot tolerate such defilement of the peaceful dead. Thorough investigation and quick dispatch is recommended before this madman engages in more sacrilege.

There was no question in his mind.  His brother was wrong after all, when he said he didn't have that much enthusiasm for the church.  For the holy work of Ezra. Yet here it was, all on paper.  He had said that nearly ten dossiers were complete - it was a fine start to much, much more.

The warden was jumpy.  The necromancer confirmed well enough his identity when he began uttering necromancy in front of them all.  When he used magic to follow them around after they declined his company.  "Ezrites keep to their own," he had said.  He didn't want the arcanist, the living extension of the Legions of the Night, to know he was on to him.  It was too late for that now.  Now he was just another piece of what they were planning, to come.

An interesting finding from his very long day was an explanation for while the Defiler had the Vallaki garda wrapped around her thumb.  He had a rueful smile, having learned that Ianescu had pursued a romance with none other than a former Vallaki guard.  That the man had died, they thought her a widow.

He laughed.

Evidently, the Prancing Nymph gave a lot of special attention to the Garda as well.  Ianescu was well known to spread her legs for the coin.  Hearing it made Ovidiu's spirits soar.  It was no surprise to him that, yet again, her influence was the result of her despicable conduct among the lewd folk.
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on September 18, 2012, 06:32:43 PM
(http://www.exclassics.com/foxe/foxe108.gif)


Propagandist leaflets with vivid images of a Warden standing upright, lacerations on his body are sprawled in front of the large Temple sparing no expense in their appeal and printed typography - telling the tale of the exploits of a young Martyr Warden of the fourth revelation that hails from the wicked Lands of Barovia - dubbed as the greatest battlefield second to Darkon and the biggest threat of them all come the end of times.

The apocalyptic text recites in a romantic way, the struggles of a young Warden that stood up to the political corruption of greed and sensualist influence in those lands, betrayed to local law for standing up to what he believed to be right, sacrificing himself in body to torture with unwavering resolve in Faith. It follows with fervor about the need of aid in those corrupted, heathen-ridden lands - that it is every young anchorites' mission then to make pilgrimage to Barovia sooner than later to help a congregation 'in dire need of help and guidance' in what will be a raging battlefield of the Times of Unparalleled Darkness...

Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on September 21, 2012, 05:05:13 PM
(http://i46.tinypic.com/14j4x04.png)
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on September 24, 2012, 04:45:03 PM
9/24/767

With Milea's title degraded, it is easy to see who remains loyal to her.  Their new heresy festers, the Defiler is made bold by Milea's actions.  Vallaki and Barovia need a strong base to defend against their vengeful attacks...  The loose ends can be brought back into play.  Pieces that have been on the table can finally be moved.

Ezra's holy work continues.  We are making great strides, great discoveries.  We will need help... from the new arrivals, the new converts, and even from outside our fold.

I have much to do.

W.L. - IV
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on September 27, 2012, 04:39:12 PM
9/27/767

The dust settles.  I am less concerned of Milea's heresy now that the matter has been given to the Inquisition.  Face to face, she seems content to pray aloud that the church be safe from the liars, theives, and such.  It is a petty attempt to gratify her sense of failure, I am certain.  How the drowning splash when their lungs are deprived of breath.

Perhaps she should pray that the Church be insulated from the vain and self serving interests of those of her ilk!  Looking back upon the incidents involving the League of Nine, I find myself wondering if the higher circles in Borca had become aware of their corruption.

I have collected my thoughts and observations on the two recent cases of daemonic possession I became aware of, that resulted from travel to a place called the Nightmare lands.  In both of these cases, the subjects were aware of the name of the possessing entity, which is one of the most indicative signs that investigation into such matters can yield.  Both subjects seem to have recovered on their own, leading me to estimate that the influence of these fiendish agents is tied to the lands in which they dwell.

I have baptised Nelithia, in spite of knowing that she has worn thin the patience of the Garda and perhaps others. I have faith that she will embrace our teachings. I believe her to be a most valuable addition to the Fourth Revelation... I hadn't expected her to choose our path, it was a pleasant surprise.  She speaks of a miracle that swayed her to Ezra's light, an incident involving Toret Morello.  I was concerned that Morello did not report this incident; but I'm more concerned with the investigation by the Inquisition that considers Morello a suspect in the death of Inquisitor Blazevic. The matter of which, I would like to see closed, one way or another.

My visions of Our Holy Guardian have increased in frequency... for all my work, She still seems displeased.  Perhaps none of us are truly worthy to serve Her. I will redouble my efforts, I will prove myself worthy of Ezra, worthy of the highest office I can serve in Her Church!

In Her Name,
W.L. - IV
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on October 04, 2012, 09:19:22 PM
The rain slashed mercilessly at the men in their leathers, the boiled armors slickly reflecting the sparse moonlight that intermittently pierced the clouds. Theirs were not the colorful garbs of many other tribesmen, and moreso because they didn't wish to show any affiliation with the gypsies...

The youngest among them wasn't a day over sixteen years.  Dragging behind the small group, he struggled to keep up in the rain-drenched soil of the Old Svalich Road.  They kept a grueling pace, as his betters knew the way well.  At least the cold season hadn't arrived yet.

His "Uncle" Shandor called back to him harshly to keep up.  The self appointed leader of the group, Shandor was as cunning as he was despicable. Shandor had suffered the decree of their Rauni some years before the others, and was left with disgusting boils to show for it.  Ovidiu didn't even like looking at him.  Usually Shandor would delegate the fetching of some deer meat or other foraging to the inexperienced boy.  Tonight, Ovidiu would probably suffer Shandor's scrutiny as he was told to build a fire with soaked firewood.  If the others had to bother with such menial affairs, it might mean another beating.

The boy often thought that if not for his small, fang-shaped birthmark over his ribs, the others might just leave him in a ditch with a hole in his neck.  His father Emilian never protested at his mistreatment, but after the ignominious events concerning Ovidiu's mother, there was nothing but a silent emnity from him.  Indeed, Emilian had tried to take a wife outside of the blood, and he paid dearly for the disgrace... The details of the Vishnadd to follow were never revealed to anyone anyway.  The Rauni had obviously ruled that the spirits would punish Emilian - and just days after their banishment, his tongue fell out.  Love between giorgio's and Vistani had happened before; there had to be something more.  It had all happened before his birth anyway.

Perhaps his father worried that disgracing the blood even further would draw further attention from those vengeful, wicked spirits.  So Ovidiu reasoned, that's why he didn't end up floating on Lake Zarovich.  He definitely was not going to ask.  He'd thought of leaving before, but these were the only family he'd ever known.

They arrived at a crossroads, the croak of a raven echoing from somewhere in the dark treeline.  As they came to a stop, boots caked with mud, Emilian threw a shovel to the boy, or at him.  Fumbling as usual under the weight of their observation, he reclaimed it from a large puddle at his feet.  He knew what was expected of him, there'd be no wet logs tonight.

The others started fixing themselves into the terrain, as Ovidiu began to dig obediently.  Focused on his work, he didn't notice them vanish from sight. Sweat streaming from his face and mingling with the downpour, he worked exhaustively, digging a large hazardous ditch.  He couldn't see the moon anymore and lost his concept of time with the monotonous work.  Old Night bore down on him with a dense silence, only broken by the slurping sound of mud and gravel being pulled free of the packed road.

Palms blistered from the cracked and weathered handle of the shovel, he startled slightly as he heard from somewhere close by: "That's good enough."

It'd been a hard season and they hadn't seen any deer... the men were growing desperate for some jerky.  The ditch wasn't to catch any deer, though.  Taking the cue, the boy tied the shovel to his pack and found some nearby cover.  Finally his pulse slowed, and they waited, the only sound that of the falling rain, now.  His stomach rumbled.

He fought against sleep for what seemed like hours.  The thought of being discovered sleeping by the others was enough to keep him awake, however.  As he got older the beatings had become worse - he was more and more considered a man, expected to pull his weight, but they'd likely never acknowledge him, he thought.

The dark clouds lightened somewhat in hue.  Dawn was more or less imminent. His thoughts were interrupted by a most welcome sound, then a sight to follow.  It all seemed to happen slowly; the carriage rounded the bend, drawn by two black horses.  The driver called out in alarm out as the ditch worked just as expected - the horses fell in first, their own weight breaking their front legs, leaving them lame.  The driver cast one look about, looking right at Ovidiu's poorly chosen hiding place and locking eyes with him, before an arrow whistled right into his chest, then another.  The man crumpled forward with a pitiful gurgle of final protest.  Upset voices came from inside the carriage; there was a woman among them.

Ovidiu cringed; that domna was most unlucky.  He watched as the carriage door snapped open, a man stepping out, saying with hushed urgency, "Marilena, stay inside the carriage!"  He hadn't assessed their dead driver or the lame horses yet, but still removed a longsword from his sheathe.  After taking two steps out of the carriage and making the grim discovery, an arrow pitted itself into the exterior of the carriage.  The man ducked, the whistle of arrows cut the rain, the cruel aim of the Darkling snipers earning a hit to his thigh.  Blood sprayed from the wound.

"Now, go, go!"  The command from Shandor jarred the boy from his paralysis, his grim fascination with the dark scene unfolding.  His hand found a shakey grip upon his shortsword, and he hustled to close the distance to the carriage now that the moment was ripe.  The man was already pale in the face from the trauma.  He, at least, would see an quick end.  Raising his sword weakly, he presented no contest even for the boy, who knew only a life of taking what was needed.  Impressively the man survived the first blow, but it softened him up for the coup de grace.  Blood mingling with the rain and dark soil, the simple merchant, judging by his attire, looked up pleadingly at the boy as he closed his fingers around a silver pendant of some kind.  It was a moment that dragged on for an eternity it seemed, measured only by the sizzle and pop of the resin torches atop the carriage.  Not one to be accused of hesitating when he needed to pull his weight, Ovidiu cut the man's throat without further consideration.

His heartbeat raced with the excitement, but his spirits sank as he heard the opposide door of the carriage splinter open, kicked in by the others; then the woman screamed.

Enough was enough.  Those bastards were going to take turns with that woman, and if she was left alive she'd likely bear another hated son like himself.  He looked down at the merchant, eyes dull and vacant but still staring up at him, fingers clutched tightly around that silver pendant.  It looked pretty valuable.  He could already hear the woman's cries of protest as they began their sick, base ritual of victory.  It'd been months since they'd had a woman, and they never shared with Ovidiu.

He took the symbol and a small coinpurse, it wasn't much, but he was near enough to Krezk and his mother's relatives where he could possibly make a trade for it.  As he pried it from the mans still-warm fingers, he saw it was a longsword imposed over a towershield, entwined with a sprig of belladonna.
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on October 15, 2012, 07:29:22 PM
10/15/767

Drigor.

Salvatore Alurto.

Dimitry Bochinsky.

I looked upon them, those swift-moving Mists in the failed sanctuary of the Overseer.  Those Mists pulled me in... they showed me something I don't understand yet.

"My leg"

"Don't let the doctor touch me"

Inquisitor Noirgrim's pistol seemed far away when he fired that shot, but it was so close to my face I can still smell the gunpowder.  I shouldn't have let them in.  I didn't mean to let them in.

When I close my eyes I can still see those twisting, writhing images.

Ezra help me.
W. L. - IV
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on October 18, 2012, 05:11:57 PM
10/18/767

Vincent von Stravokov.

I have been keeping a daily log separate from my journal including the specific details of our current assignment.  I'm taking account of who has reported in and when, donations made, and the specifics of an investigation ongoing.

What I cannot write in that report, is the quickness that morale was lost.  Always feeling watched, in the long shadow of something truly vile, our numbers dwindled first, before we were attacked.  Our newest brother Grisham nearly lost his life that night... yet he has remained resolute, he never once turned heel to run, he would sooner die before abandoning this post.  Ezra help us, send us more devotees like this one.  We might not last another night.

Beata Ezra.
W.L. - IV




Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on October 19, 2012, 02:44:37 PM
10/19/767

I sent brother Virgil for a supply of paper and holy water and he hasn't returned in a few days.  I doubt anything happened to him - do I ask too much?  We are beset on all sides, I stood up to the apparition that almost killed brother Grisham, and felt the pain of death... It is a small miracle that we survived yet another night.  The risen dead are too many to count, their wailing forbids the mind to sleep... They cry of a Mistress called Nicoleta, one ghost said she lost her child... Another ghost told us it was unsafe to camp here, trespassing... It appeared to wear the robes of the Morninglord followers.  These spectres manifest fully enough to affect the material world... All of them, cloaked in these horrible daemonic mists... just like the fiend Alurto...

I've just been informed we're being spied upon, we've no choice but to continue our assignment, what interest our suffering could have to haethens is beyond me.

Beata Ezra
W.L. - IV
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on October 24, 2012, 05:22:00 PM
10/24/767

Our vigil continues.  I am pleased with the addition of a woman named Lana.  She has come from a land very similar to our own, it would seem.  She says that after a blow to her head her memory is difficult to grasp.  With her arrival in this crucial time, we can never be too sure of spies or the like, so I will be keeping an eye on this one.  She seems to have picked up the lessons of our faith well enough and her baptism will follow.  Also of note is the exceptional brother Grisham, who has already entered our fold. 

All in all, since we established this base camp, twelve of Her faithful have reported.  Including Warden Creek, whom I haven't seen since my ordination.  And half of that number, showed within the first two days.  The attacks during the night seem to have subsided for now, but we will be prepared for the fiends when they show themselves to Ezra for judgement, when they've mustered the boldness to come out of their dark hiding places.

Brother Virgil finally returned with supplies. With such a great faith in one so young, I can see the tension this brings... You've been a shadow for so long, just a little longer... The time for idleness is at an end, my dear brother.

So too, the time for division has ended. Templar Commander Misha and I share views on this, as does Warden Hyde. Going forward, our cooperation will be an example to be followed by all.

I am still unsure whether I have met the Boyar, or one of his sons.  A survey of their lands took almost an entire day, and I'm sure I missed some ground.  One site I found out in the woods seems almost certainly the former site of daemonic worship.  Further investigation shall follow.

In Her Name,
W. L. - IV

Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on November 13, 2012, 07:47:05 PM
11/14/767

I am tired.  Milea flaunts the stolen, necromantic blade Lamia, the disgusting implement being the sole key to Zebra's soul joining Ezra.  I cannot believe she is using this despicable sword as the symbol of her ill conceived order.

The Mists of Death cloud her mind, I can take some relief in knowing that the pending review over Milea's suitability to lead in the church is a closed case now.

Huntzinger follows like a lamb, it is shameful that their bonds of friendship are more important than the vows of their office.

They've laid themselves so bare.  There are no walls to place your backs against, Heretics.  You will be arrested.  You will be interrogated, you will be invalidated.

I am not concerned with the damage you do to Ezra's mission, deplorable as it is, the true shame is the irrevokable damage you've done to your own souls.  Damage that can only be reconciled atop the pyre, Ezra will cleanse your stained vessels when the flesh is transmuted to smoke and ashes.

I am very patient, justice however is not.

In Her Name.
Warden Lacusta
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on November 28, 2012, 08:50:52 PM
11/28/767

Perhaps it'd have been me, used as a bargaining chip, had the heathens decided to let me have my way.

Make your own decision, face your own consequences.  So concerned with the politics of the matter, who gets the credit, for Ezra's sake, is it not more important that order be restored?

I was asked to be present during the caravan to the Castle.  And what for?  To accept the credit on behalf of whom?  I am less and less inclined to deal with these so-called Wayfarers, even as it seems the Cult has reclaimed their mouth-piece.  That magus they have could simply lay them all dead again, just like the first time.

They had attacked and captured someone from the surface.  I simply followed, to observe, much as a doctor steps lightly to check on a patient as they rest... I wanted to see the fate of one in their grasp.

The hissing victim carried a sword that will unravel him, eventually.  I returned it after I returned him to his friends.

He was not even an Ezrite... so I am not inclined to repeat this gesture, even I did not forsee such entanglements arrising from that visit to the Raunie's camp.  I will continue with our vigil and await to hear of any developments... assuming any reach my ear.

-W.L.
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on November 30, 2012, 08:00:30 PM
11/30/767

Milea flaunts herself openly, and taunts me.  When asked about her purpose, her mission, it is clear it is only to harm the church.

All she can speak about is her loss, her imagined victimization - there is no theological premise she operates from.  A more vain, self serving woman I couldn't imagine.

She tries to put it all on me.  "Your actions, Ovidiu."  How it unnerves me when she calls me by my first name.  It seems to be inconceivable to this woman that I have never cared about her personal vendettas in my actions and service to the church.  It seems beyond her grasp that I am considered a hero by the Fourth Revelation and that her judgements of me mean nothing, to anyone except her sympathizers.

I challenged her, go ahead, spread Ezra's word. She said, "that's always been your gift, Ovidiu."  So Milea admits that she has no capacity to preach and gain converts, more alarming is that her existing converts are the remnants of her personal friends who follow after her like helpless ducklings.  They can't answer any theological questions.  They have no identity, they don't even know who they are.

I've learned they lair somewhere east of Vallaki.  That narrows it down considerably.  As difficult as it is to wait, I must'nt gather the faithful yet.

Milea chose the right color for her order.  Sin is like scarlet in the eyes of Ezra.

The Mists of Death rejoice in your work.  They will continue to reward your vanity, your lust for vengeance, your futile attempts to find meaning where you are meaningless.

In Her Name.
-W. L.
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on December 19, 2012, 04:59:55 PM
12/19/767

The final destruction of Zebra Colt.  The final destruction of Scurvy.

These are but small victories, but I revel in them no less.  Our coffers are full.  I have amassed a stockpile of blessed weaponry, and ammuition enough to supply a militia through a months long siege.

Even as great as this is, we must continue.  Our requirements for what is to come are impossible to gauge.

I am shocked and sickened to behold Ambassador Popovici working alongside the heretics in red.  Calling them "sister," accepting them as if they hadn't forsaken the church, how quickly do we all forget that Stefania is the reason why Zebra was ever lost to us to begin with?

It is out of control.  Fortunately Warden Ambrosius has returned to us after a long absence.  With his leadership, we will continue to eliminate our obstacles and clear the way for the true work of Our Guardian to be carried out.

It is said that most heresies die out with their founder.
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on December 31, 2012, 07:35:04 PM
12/31/767

The chill of winter and the closure of the Svalich Road are foreboding both.  Have I failed my mission?

The workings of the Grand Scheme are mysterious, indeed.

I am taunted and ridiculed.  Goaded, by the heretics in red.  They wish to force my hand... it could produce mistakes, then.  It will not be so.  They will become twisted mockeries, shadows of

My hand will instead produce beautiful works of art, all in tribute to Ezra.

All of my previous work will culminate with them, within them.  Without them, it would not be possible now.

Those who would humiliate, will suffer the ultimate humiliation.  I will be as your teacher.  I will teach you to fear, before your sentence is come.

Suddenly, everyone wears red.
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on January 10, 2013, 02:47:15 PM
1/10/767

Some things are unknowable, even with the sight.  The Heretics who once flaunted themselves cower and flee before the night.  A single bolt is enough to splinter their resolve, scatter them.

Next time, it should be covered in weep my lassie, perhaps.  I wonder if their rancid Borcan stomachs will simply find appreciation for the bitter taste of it, though.

Always movement.  The Fourth is strong.  Coffers full.

The subversion of the Heretics still infects the main church.  The Templar Commander reported Warden Hyde to the Garda, accusing him of stripping and beating the heretic Dredo.

Now, why would a Templar Commander do that to her only Pure Heart Warden in the whole country?

I never suspected you. Your vileness is clear to all now, Misha.
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on January 14, 2013, 04:20:49 AM
1/14/768

Mina's faith is broken.  She has thrown away the heresy that she thew away being a warden to pursue.

Her skin is vile, necrotic, flaking away with the taint of the Legions of the Night.

I can see it vividly in my mind, Milea's anguish as she prayed over Mina.  The same way she prayed over Zebra, to no effect.

They hunt their sister as I write.  They blame me, but they are still wrong about Mina's transformation.

Milea used another heretical, arcanist spell, "Mages Armor."
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on January 25, 2013, 07:21:16 PM
1/25/768

I have seen a promotion in the ranks of Her Church.  I predicted brother Creek would become Toret - to which he seemed surprised, humbled.

I am pleased to see he has been raised to Sentire.  The flock needs a wise and mighty leader to follow.  Not a vain one, like Milea was.

I have almost no time to write in this journal.  The increased correspondance with Darkon, and Barovia crawling with threats, many just outside our door, there is too much to do.   The other clergy seem stretched, or do they?  If they cannot document their converts, I will need to demonstrate my functions more clearly.  A waste of time considering what I am tasked with, but it will be for them to decide whether it is absolutely necessary. I have given them three days.

*the entry is left unsigned*
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on February 02, 2013, 11:02:42 PM
2/2/768
*The handwriting is brusque*

They attacked our keep and found nothing.  Fools.  I killed nine of them myself.

I.O.L.
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on February 03, 2013, 02:47:03 PM
2/3/13

There were ten slain between us, my newest Templar and I.  The vast underground complex was likely destroyed.  I have my doubts whether the Death Cult would truly stay dead, though.  Their patron seemed more than capable to dispense the needed necromancy to reanimate their hollow, paper bodies.  Drigor, I hear you're in Edrigan?

We will indulge an aggressive campaign throughout the Core - all civilized lands will be scoured for signs of these criminals, and the toll of their trespass on von Zeklos soil will be exacted from each and every last cowardly hide.  And that of their allies, their friends, the sympathizers that are just as guilty as the Cult of their wanton murders and ongoing debasement of Ezra.

Perhaps they should seek the Keybearer's promise. It's not too late for them to escape my grasp, if they believe the daemon's words.

They've little left to choose from, now.
I.O.L.
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on February 05, 2013, 07:36:54 PM
2/5/768

I do not know how he does it.  I have always admired the Inquisitor Veritas, and now I know the things I could never have imagined about his struggle. Our struggle.  His patience, his many years, I was shocked to learn he is almost two hundred and looks more youthful than I do.  The Grand Scheme is confusing.

Inquisitor Noirgrim once called me... poorly trained, after I was defeated by that thrice-damned servant of death, Salvatore Alurto.  If the Inquisitor had not been following me, I'd have died.  I begin to wonder why he was following me. In the months since that time I have trained extensively... pushing the limits of my body and faith.

It has been easy.  All I need to think about is that swift moving, daemonic Mist... the foul, jeering faces, the twisted mockeries of life, all grasping, reaching... I think of those children, the poor souls that the Doctor and his cabal molested so.  Dimitri Bochinsky, Lilas Wurtbeich... and the writing on the wall says they'll be here soon.

I have tried to brief Sentire Creek.  I have tried to brief his Torets.  They do not understand - no, they cannot fathom the blackness that marches toward us. The putrid claws that stretch toward us.  The odious, corruptive touch of the Legions of the Night that visits us nightly.

The Templars are being attacked steadily. The Drinker of Blood is not subtle.  I am reminded that I am not a soldier.  We will tell them what we know... and pray for the best.

I.O.L.
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on February 18, 2013, 03:58:20 PM
2/18/768

2/18/768

The conspiracy I have stumbled upon is almost too troubling to write here, but I will hence commit this to paper so that another anchorite may pursue it after my service to Ezra is done.

I have slain a powerful shapeshifter, that was once known by the name Warn Windwill.  A cunning deceiver, this creature masqueraded as a Lightcarrier for a time; from the confidential dossier I have kept, I will rewrite what I have learned, Ezra help me.

Quote
Three outlanders were accompanied by the fair-haired lightcarrier, down into the dusty crypts below the Morninglord sanctuary.  They were in melee with the undead there.  I had followed them to sate my curiosity on what the mindless undead had evidently done to rebuild some of the lower levels of the complex - at the direction of their unseen masters, no doubt.

I followed after their party, not too close, but close enough to remain in earshot. I had all but lost interest in following their group - unremarkable warriors that they were - until I found the passage behind me blocked by some trick of the Legions of the Night... I would have to proceed through.

Catching up to the party of four, I noted they had closed with a group of undead warriors that fought with a closeness and cohesion that suggested they fought together in life.  They were cutting the outlanders down with measured strikes and methodical, predictable tactics... and were proving quite effective at the task.

Having no obligation to intervene, I may have resolved, at the very least, to extricate their corpses to the surface for burial, but I cannot remark on that, for what I saw next was truly horrific.

One of their women, she wore her armor poorly, was unceremoniously felled by the skeletal fighters... And it seemed that the very moment her dark blood hit the dusty floors of that place, as soon as the sanguine humor mingled with the sting of battle filling the nostrils... The Lightcarrier changed.

This was the sudden cascade of bone, of rippling flesh and an odious, avian cry! This was the shapechange of a Beast that Rends... but not like any other I'd seen. This creature was half again as tall as man... Bedecked with a plume of feathers, shining as black as night, and a jagged beak protruding from where the face of a man once resided.

No sooner did the man change into this abomination, than it lept upon the body of the felled woman.  As if any further show of its nature was required, it began to gorge upon the carrion flesh!  Snapping at its former companions, the outlanders did not seem to understand their imminent danger, instead thinking of this monster as their friend!

I could stand by no longer. I surged from the shadows, Ezra's blessings upon my lips, but I was only able to harm it superficially... Enough to make it flee, at the least.
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on February 18, 2013, 05:01:34 PM
Quote
I encountered a woman known as Rada, who is also known by the alias Adeline. She was doting all about her upcoming wedding in the Morninglord church. The woman was quite decisively a pest as I worked some supplies I'd received from Frenar Goldenhammer, who was not yet a layman - at first I had thought to simply be rid of the woman.  I had expected her to leave instead of answer my line of questioning which I promptly turned on her.

I accused her of harboring a Legion of the Night, a creature of vile darkness, and her demeanor was as defensive as could be expected.

I began to describe my experience watching the thing change down in the crypt, though I was careful not to mention that I'd seen Warn's human appearance in good detail, or that I knew it was a Lightcarrier specifically.

Sensing my intentional vagueness and falling prey to it, the vile woman quickly suggested that the Morninglord Vicar was the shapeshifting monstrosity.  It became instantly clear that this woman wanted to dispose of her high priest, even though she spoke carefully enough, she repeated her suspicion that the Vicar was the creature.

I asked, for her to describe the Vicar, to which she obliged.  I pressed the question, and she confirmed, that the Vicar does indeed have dark hair.

Goldenhammer spoke with me in murmurs, and sensing his propensity for this kind of work, I told him about the target having light colored hair. He was immediately a benefit to the investigation when he asked her if her husband to be, Warn, had light hair to match her own.

She said yes.

A new interest in this wedding forming, I resolved to attend and see for myself if her husband Warn was the shapeshifter I'd witnessed.  The time was not convenient though... I could not make the ceremony.  Goldenhammer showed initiative and told me he'd go to the wedding... I had not even asked him to.

I offered a pleasantry to Rada, I told her that I wished her husband Warg and she a fine ceremony.

She made no effort to correct my intentional misuse of Warn's name.  That someone else corrected me was unnecessary... I hadn't mistaken it.

She'd tried to deflect us into making a serious mistake accusing the Vicar.  She tried to protect Warn... but she'd revealed him every bit as much as herself.
Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on February 18, 2013, 06:26:38 PM
Quote
My Retainer, whom I later appointed after troubles of my own, reported back on the matter of Warn and Rada's wedding.  Indeed the fair-haired lightcarrier was just as I described.  I went to the Vallaki Garda and informed them of my ongoing investigation.  At the time, Sergeant Petkovich had agreed to make a typical arrest of the creature, then summon me to the jail to see to the important task of proving the nature of it, assessing any weakness, and finally disposing of it.

The Garda never did their part.  Weeks passed without any new leads, the case was growing cold.  We still had nothing as far as a weakness and, Warn hadn't been seen in the Morninglord temple, either.

Just when I it seemed the creature had slipped our grasp, my Retainer and I witnessed it lingering out in the open - in the western outskirts of vallaki, no less.  Some simple trade had outlasted the daylight.  This was it; we followed the creature and an elven woman into the southern wood.

We were summarily attacked by a fell Druid, a Bear-shifter, no doubt an ally of Warn's, as I confronted him and held him fast.  My Retainer succeeded in defeating the bear-woman.  I managed to cut Warn's hand off, but only after a second attempt.  Varja-using-Caliban huddled in the shadows watching while Warn struggled against the compulsion to change.  Let the Caliban see the proof.

His mastery over his uncanny forms should be stated.  It took stabbing Warn full of Belladonna extract, a dose lethal to a normal person, to finally prompt the physical manifestation of his taint.  Cries from the caliban sympathizers distracted from my task - but all were captured in silence as the horrid thing shifted forms below my very boot.  I was nearly thrown by it thrashing so powerfully, but Ezra kept me steady, kept the fiend pinned entirely under my weight.

Finally, despite the struggle I managed to get some of the stronger alchemical varnish onto my blade.  It was orders of magnitude stronger than the allergic properties of even the rarest metals, and I wasn't going to take any more risks in letting this fiend escape.  Severing a vital tendon that deprived it deliberate movement made dispatching it easier than expected.  I was not pursued as I made my escape with the thing in tow.

Title: Re: Journal of a Blackcoat
Post by: Ovidiu_Lacusta on February 18, 2013, 06:50:47 PM
Quote
Addendum:

Warn:
-divorced Rada, he called her wicked and unworthy of the Morninglord.
-deserted the Morninglord Faith, breaking his vows as a Lightcarrier.
-was transformed into a Raven monster in the wolf cave near the Fishing Lodge.
-was thoroughly convinced he was an ally to good creatures everywhere.
-denied any knowledge of others of his kind.
-had no noteworthy possessions.
-condition was known to many, including the caliban witnesses.

Anchorite, it is crucial that you now learn what I have learned, that in fact a secret society of these abominations dwells near the Village of Barovia.

The flock of Ezrites that have moved into von Zeklos are inexorably corrupt and hold the testimony of caliban over officials in the Church.

I am not a criminal, nor an enemy of the state, nor an heretic, nor have I committed any wrong deed so help me Ezra.  I am innocent.