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Author Topic: Fable of a Barovian Soldier  (Read 669 times)

Alan Hunter

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Fable of a Barovian Soldier
« on: August 11, 2020, 05:20:40 PM »
Journal of Valentin Krezkov

"I do not know where to begin or why I am writing. I feel my thoughts should be kept in paper as I lay here in my small camp away from Barovia in a nation not even my home. I have left with domna Manishie to the land of Dementlieu beyond the mist. I admit the decision was rash and rush but my time in the Outskirts has left me bitter and hating my life. I was once a Garda, a father, a Barovian. Yet it is not my Barovia and not my Vallaki anymore given the rise of the outlanders and the constant leniency to them."

"There is a hatred and a rage for them yet in Manishie I have found a liking for these foreigners and freaks. My brief time in the mist camp of the vistani enlighten me to the horror they endure and yet the truth that even Outlanders do not even trust each other. What a horrible people they are with a kinship of being all lost and yet trifle with such pointless dramas as even murdering themselves. It pains me to say I hated them but they hate themselves more than I do."

"Frankly the poor here are worst than the slums of the Municipality as every man, woman, and child of Port is eager to rob you at the moment of nightfall like the rat neuri along the city of Vallaki. Yet the nobles here turn a blind eye entrance in their false fairy tales. I even went to this Belker theatre of wax and witness how they view our Count. I almost wanted to punch the actor in the face."

"Alas I can't say that I am truly bored here there is wood and game about. I know domna Manishie encouraged me to live in the city and rest at a hotel but my first impression of the cost and the unnecessary things was disgusting. I could not believe people would pay for such unnecessary fineries. For the price I could live in Bianca's rooms at the Lady's Rest for five days with the cost. And I sought this thing called an apartment to only find the place run down and riddled with Tigans about."

"So I chose to camp outside the City hidden away where none could find me preferring isolation than integration with the people just yet. Aside from the muggers that walk the roads at night and the various streets of the city I find myself uncertain but determined to get a job with domn Gray. I'll need to learn the language if I am to find work and if at all to see her...."

"Manishie reminds me of my young wife. Before the Outlander witch's vraja of acid and thunder claimed them we were happy. Her smile, her humor, her mirth reminds me so much of  my wife I often am delusional thinking she is still here. How she demands me to treat all outlanders and freaks with kindness and yet I find myself trying too. Perhaps to consider my lost wife's way of life. I pray this city does Manishie no harm for I could not bare to see her smile fade for no wrath is worst than a Barovian man's heart blacken with anger."

*Eleventh Day of the 8th Month, Second day of the Week* Krezkov Valentin
« Last Edit: August 11, 2020, 08:28:37 PM by Alan Hunter »
"For Evil to win is for good men to do nothing."

Alan Hunter

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Re: Fable of a Barovian Soldier
« Reply #1 on: November 26, 2021, 03:31:52 PM »
*illegible date and title in a worn book*

I've forgotten this book for some time left to wallow back in my home of Vallaki. I had tried to watch over my people. I have tried to watch over the fools of the Citadel. Children mere sons and daughters of Barovia to young to comprehend the foul nature of outlanders. My fists tighten so often they begin to sound like the leathers of my gloves. I am not growing young and as I sit and watch this town I recall why i left with Manishie. Though she is not here anymore swimming in the riches of Port that murdered my people last year. It sickens me how these outlanders complain of Burgomiestier yet his laws and views protect them. Were the laws of the Count enforced if I were given permission of by the Devil himself I would whip every outlanders to pay the due taxes of the Count and to the betterment of Vallaki. Outrageous are the prices of the wares of outlanders hundreds of thousand for a measly belt of Vraja with such wealth capable of envigorating the Slums and the poor. No, too long have they endured on the pity of others to long have they not suffered the wrath of the people of Barovia. The wrath of the Count.... I alone could not do this. I would break the law acting above my station but the injustice of my people and my Count burns with in me.

How long must I watch and suffer as I see what I cherish suffer. I watch these so call clergies of the outlander gods enter our city and I watch as they do nothing but pine over for followers trying to convince these outlanders and the people of falsehoods. When will it be enough? When will it be our time? Hell I sooner work with a Gunderkite than another foolish outlander disobedient and disrespectful to our land and people. How it sickens me to see them like golden fleece sheep and yet none with a sheer to them. I know i must wait I must become stronger for my people and for my Count. He is of the land, he is the law, and I his sword so I swear one day I will avenge this land and its people. Till then I will wait and I will watch etching their crimes onto my heart till it bleeds me dry of sympathy.
"For Evil to win is for good men to do nothing."