You have been taken by the Mists

Author Topic: The Journal and Diary of Joachim von Schrötter  (Read 3110 times)


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Re: The Journal and Diary of Joachim von Schrötter
« Reply #25 on: February 06, 2019, 04:59:58 AM »
Thirtieth Entry, 6. Februar, 774 BC.

     I recovered my Journal finally. I didn't think I'd still be alive to write another entry, after the rather unsettling incident in Ghastria. It seems like everything has changed, since then -- The dynamics of our lives as we knew them, changed, forever. How one man's actions can have an effect on so many more. It seems like we always overlook that.

I watched an old man hanging from a noose he wrought within a few minutes, just two days ago. The image never left my mind. His face was purple, his tongue hanging from his mouth, he'd soiled himself and the floor beneath. My first instinct was to try to cut him loose, and breath air into his lungs, for only ten minutes prior had I seen him alive and in sorrow. I told him the truth, and it took away whatever hope he had left to live. My only intent was to do the right thing, and tell him what transpired. I never imagined he would do something like this. May he rest in peace, now, and be reunited with his beloved.

This City needs something more than what I am, I begin to think sometimes. I simply am not, what is needed, here. The world manages to spin without my aid, and my influence on it wanes every day. I could have probably done more good in the world, if I'd compromised to evils deemed necessary, but at what point does promoting a smaller evil to handle issues I deem relevant become heinous? Formerly, I believed in every case it was. Now, I sit idly while the world passes by. Everything I desire, washing between my fingers, and the solace I find in duty becoming frustration at my inability to be at the right places, at the right times. If Imrae were still here, I'd have considered long since getting away from it all, and joining her elsewhere, though it seems she departed without me, never to return.

Those who I consider my closest companions, see me as prideful, and hot-headed. Easy to wound, and naive at times. Am I? It seems like it. Sometimes it seems like the easier answer is to lack compassion and patience, and act with an iron hand. Take no undue prisoners, spare not my hand, and remove that of which is a thorn in my side. Though that seems to belie a fall into darkness, and damnation. -- I was not born religious, I did not take to these things. I simply elected to rise to a greater purpose, to change the world, to make it better. To protect the innocent, and spare the truly repentant, if I can. To lead through example, though what example, /truly/ am I? I am a mockery of my own beliefs, and at best, a compromised man. No love falls upon me, nor do lips grace mine. No men follow behind me, whom know me truly, nor do I keep friends close to my side, for that none can I truly trust but perhaps, two. This existence is a lonely torture, and I pray to Ezra -- that salvation finds me. For if my heart should truly beat with faith, I must have some faith that the Grand Scheme will absolve me from this torrent of purposelessness.


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Re: The Journal and Diary of Joachim von Schrötter
« Reply #26 on: February 12, 2019, 06:29:38 PM »
[An entry written in a feminine hand, not in Falkovnian but in High Mordentish, can be seen on one of its blank pages. It is, without a doubt, an interloper.]



I haven't forgotten about you, friend.

I will rescue you. I will save you.

- V.