Author Topic: Journal of a Butcher's Ax  (Read 402 times)

Alan Hunter

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Journal of a Butcher's Ax
« on: February 08, 2022, 12:31:52 PM »
(My Beginning)

To read and write it seems all so odd given how long I used me wits to remembering anything and everything till my brain hurt. It's still not as easy as I thought it would be and suppose as Yue told me once it all comes in time and practice. Surely my brother Yolven and my friend Karis would find it funny the old oafish barovian writing and reading books. These spectacles Alusand gave me came in handy especially when reading the tiny words in some books. I once thought all writing to be chicken scratches less it was pictures to be reading. Now I read things such as a Dead Man's Campaign or things of Ezra. Frankly dislike the god books they're always boring. So, I figured I write myself a journal in case something happens when this is found it be brought to my closest family my Daughter Ophelia and if she's not alive to my dearest friend Tinu. I'll record all the important things of my past and my present so maybe somebody learn something from this old oaf.

I spare over details but I'm not truly Barovian. No, I came out the mist half craze with no addle thought in me mind other than survive covered in wasted and aged clothing. I wandered the outskirts like a savage eating the entrails of Fire Beetles and mauling wolves like some confused wild man. I don't know who all was in my past as what had happened, I guess scared me to the point of forgetting. I watched and observed folks of the outskirts for some time. Violent and hateful bunch self-indulging in their own stories without a care of others about them. I watch as a knight murder a man in the streets of vallaki, a man kill a Barovian Garda, and a woman lay waste to all the outskirts with fire from her hands. I knew even then in my addled mind I had to become strong or else I end up like those who died. Were it not for a domn who a man of nature was I would not have begun to learn words or dress better than I did. A much younger Yue strove to humanize a beast like me but in reality, the man whom made me Barovian was Lucca Petrovich a Ratter by trade but a cunning man. Knowin what I now know he used me for my big body and strength to do his work and more than that Lucca introduce me to the Streets of Soloban and the Nymph even the Gaping Wound. My upbringing was not in the least good and whole hardy tossing my size and strength about. Bullying folks and anything smaller than me.

Were it not for Private Dragomir Lupei and Lance Corporal Rodica Stolojan I wouldn't be the Barovian I am today it was thier discipline and thier encouraging shouts in Barovian that I learn the language and the ways of Barovia. I suppose being a manipulated outlander it wasy easy for them to conform me to be their eyes and ears.I didn't mind I was treated as one of them, I spoke like one of them, acted like one of them. Though one look of me yah could tell I wasn't so I grew a beard and tanned my skin working at the docks. I learned to smelt steal first to help Lucca with his Rat Catching. Though the name Jack is not Barovian the Vallakian accepted me more than the outlanders who murdered and lied to each other outside the outskirts. Then I sooner live in the streets of Vallaki's slums than lived out there with the constant fighting among these refugees of the mist. I hated them with a ferocity that burn like a smelting fire. They mistreated the Garda and the people of Vallaki so badly with imposing their customs and ways inconsiderate of the ways of their hosts. I never found it right so a mny of my troubles is when I killed or piked an outlander or pitic like the Great Strahd. I wanted to be strong and powerful like Strahd yet I was too daft to get things right with the Garda though Dragomir and Lance Corporal Rodica would reprimand me they knew I meant well but I had to learn to obey the laws and not overstep. Reminds me of the ginger elf who bad mouthed Vallaki and its Garda in the temple of the Morning Lord. I done beat the boy to death and toss him on the alter without hesitating. Back then I had no leash fer my rage I did what any one strong would do and that in turn made me a bully by some. Sure, as hell lead to me to some trouble with outlanders and folks.

Most considered me Barovian and I was fine with that. I harass and beat up every outlander who caused problems in my city. Lucca could atest then I had pinch for violence and gore. Had strung up a domns friend pitic who accused me of being some puppet to the Garda and told him to mind his business and he drew his knife on me. I tore into the feeble pitic like a rabid dog with my bare hands and strung him up on poles with rope like a puppet mocking him and other outlanders in how wrong I was to be mocked. I garner a lot of hate from the pitic community and none more so than from a liddle pitic woman Ali some priestess of a pitic goddess of fortune. Think it was Ali it's been so long in years names have become hard to remember and the Curse on me makes it hard to remember things other than hunger or rage some days. Those close to me an anchor to whom I was and whom I redeem to be. No, who I want to be. Without my precious friends and loved ones I'd had fallen to the Curse long ago and massacre all of Vallaki and Port. It sits like a beast in the den waiting smiling laughing like my father for me to fail. But my rage and my will are too stubborn for some ole Curse to think it get the best of me yet. All I know just one more push and the man known as Nimir be gone.

Anyways book thanks fer listening to me and letting me write in you. Book Crafting is new to me but I like crafting things. Something I thought I couldn't do I did and I tell yah what book. I'm gonna get that Forge and Shop. I'm plum going to ask the Dryad Keep if I could open such on their land as the Mist Camp could use one. Figure since my hopes in Blaustien are gone and lord Bluebeard won't respond to a Barovian git like me and opening such in Port be jus' a hassle I dun think no better place be better. All I need to do is keep working and maybe my dream comes true. The Mists has been good to me before and its been bad to me but its the one place I feel at most at peace and fair grounds. Some think me crazy of living and building a shop in the mist. Tell you what with so many that get lost in the mist and so many folk needing safe harbor maybe it ain' such a bad idea. I think the Mist gets lonely sometimes. Folks forget not all monsters were evil senseless beasts we are simply human once its the monsters in humans that turn us wicked on our own.

Yer pal Nimir,
"For Evil to win is for good men to do nothing."

Alan Hunter

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Re: Journal of a Butcher's Ax
« Reply #1 on: March 23, 2022, 02:11:51 PM »
(Past Life)

Back again book. Been busy these days. A lot gone on since my last writing. I'm employed by IIona now kind girl with a slight wickedness normal of one who survived a Slums. Think we are kindred spirits that having been Slummers. Guess it's why we get along and she lets me train her folk in crafting. I admit she does take good care of me. She's kinda like a Sugar Momma spoiling me with funds and ores. It's kinda nice fer a change dunno what she sees in an old git like me. After the war with the Black Army I been bitter guess war does that to folk. I don't hate gundarakites at all got a daughter Annaka whom I adopted and am fond of. Nu, I'm mad at the Port Folk and Gundarakite Black army Rebels for all the harm that left such a girl homeless, parentless, and lost in our own lands. While they left to hide in Port Lucine hiding by their benefactors for their crimes their people suffer here even the barovians who supported them. I won't let them forget the truths they choose to ignore the dishonesty and cruelty they left behind. Pains me to know all the dark secrets of all that its why I spoke with my pal who does the papers. Was happy to read the paper though seems my words are a bit different but he did mention some things need changing since I don't speak trade well. Hecks hard enough to sit here with a Book of Words to find the write way to right the right way to write things. Still not good at it yet but I'm trying when I'm not wandering.

Reminds me of the old days. The old me wouldn't be interested or do the things I am doing. Been a long road since then. All I cared for was coin then till I met my wife a Paladdin. Her name is hard to remember but that is the cost of being consumed by the Mist. When we had been taken Yue, her, and I separated from our mountain home by the Silver Mines and into the mist I never knew fear for something I loved. When I was able to escape months later, I come to find time had passed a lot my wife was dead, Yue was alive, and I had a son and daughter of blood. My son had wanted nothing to do with me and died in a campaign for Vallaki. My daughter I spoiled as a young woman she was more like me seeking fame and fortune. I tried teaching her my new life as a merchant, but she wanted to gallivant with a would-be hero. That same hero would-be hero would do something like have someone summon a Balor he could defeat but it all went wrong, and he was marked as a criminal fleeing to Port Lucine like most criminals do to become a well-known man. Eventually he left my girl high and dry there she died surviving in that Fopp hole. I nlamed him and warned each of his new betroths. We fought twice I defeated him once and then out for revenge when he was much stronger with vraja defeated me. However, my brother Yolven would not stand for it. He eventually like his ego got the better of himself and got himself killed which Yolven did something with the body he never told me of. Good riddance I say I had lost all I had love and though my brother and Yue were supportive I was a very dark and evil man then working for my Jabress Mo'jar the dark elf.

Even then when my Jabress bit off more she could chew she too got killed and I was once again alone. Having returned to Vallaki I decided to be my own boss and merchant the Dwarf Borval an excellent mentor to forging and crafting. How much I miss my old friend and mentor who kept me on a path I enjoy to this day. Hope I do him justice and be a better crafter soon. To my disbelief I regarded this new generation of Misters as sheep all so frail and unknowing I felt bad for them. That's when my reputation changed from mean old Jack to the nice guy I eventually became. How I am proud of Lance Marino listening to me and surviving, I miss Alex and her friends, and I am quite proud of my Bell my dearest Ophelia for surviving and being such a hard worker listening to me. I had also lost sheep whom I taken in as family such as Fox, Hihachi, and a score of young ones who strayed and did not listen I ache like a Father should knowing his flock is gone. I want to say those were the best days of my life at a peace as I tried to listen to Yue in being a better man.

Then Molly came into my life a child Vrolok whom some feared. And yet my dumb arse braved into her den only to see a child, no. a woman trapped in a child's body. At first I sought to kill it as it had hurted several of mine. In the end after offering it my blood to keep it nourished I learned her terrible story as a vampire drank from child and abandon its spawn. She had no friend, no father, not even some one to play with or lament her tale. It is from that point on did I learn what "Monster" meant. Vroloks cannot help their nature they cannot help themselves of the evil with in it is a curse one whom thinks it should eliminated and never nurtured. If Vroloks and humans can co-exist Molly and I found a slight way to do so. But, it would never be. Sheep bleat and fear the wolves but are naive to the truth of things. When they had discover us the Mist man who occasionally attended Molly had warn me of such a day. I tried to stand my ground and explain there was no harm. But fools who want to be heroes never think straight. One of them shiv me with his short sword and a fight ensued. I remember that day well as we nearly fell them and I ask Molly to spare them they didn't know any better.

That was the first of many mistakes I made trusting in people. I eventually learn not to do it again. But, they pursued us all the way into the Mist. Our second fight was bloody more of the Paladin's friends showed up. Five in total everything was but blood, rage, and gore and as they all fell and the blood of my vision from my rage faded the coldness of death clung to me. As I bled I fear dying out here Molly had to leave cause the Mist was calling. The Mist Man sacrificed himself to keep me breathing entering my chest to keep me talking and breathing. Molly's gift a vial of her blood was in my hands her small cold ones holding it in my palm. "You are human. You are going to die Jack. But, of all the humans I have met your rage is feral and your heart was kind. I don't wish you to die but there is nothing more I can do. They will be coming and I cannot stay here. They will kill you and the decision is yours to make of my gift. If you feel death to claim you only you can decide."

I was scared, I was angry, I was filled with hate and sorrow. As I lay there dying the thought of my brother, Yue, Karis, and my liddle one made me weep that I would not be there to protect them. My father's rage fueled me my hatred for these sheep unrelenting as I shouted at the mists. "I want justice! I want revenge! I won't die o' mist if old Noapte is to take me let me come back to even the scores! Give me life!" And I didn't pause I pop the cork of the vial and drank Molly's blood. I didn't care then what happen if I become a Vrolok or not. I remember the Mist Man screaming my lungs in pain as the mists drew into my breathes. The fire in my blood boiled and everything was pain I never knew but my rage and hatred would not let me pass out till the Mist grew dark enough I felt like sleeping. When I did wake I was relieved my body was repaired stronger than before. I felt lost and confused I checked my mouth for fangs but I wasn't a vrolok. Then a pain came to me a hungry pain. I crawled as if possessed to the first body the paladin's body and remember desperately trying to remove his armor. That pale chest and my fingers just dug in ignoring the flesh and the bone desperately digging for something. And that was my first heart I consumed it was like the juiciest apple of the world the taste like the best bacon ever. When it was gone it was like coming out of opium and drinking all in one. Then I scrabbled for the other bodies doing the same. I became stronger more vigor in my body than I ever had. I was stronger and for a moment I did smile then I recalled the Mist Man's sacrifice and Molly's gift.

When I looked at the bodies, I screamed in horror what I done what I was. I caught my breathe and had to realize I didn't care these fools we the evil ones they had deserve it and if their lives fueled my own so be it. Like killing devouring, became easier with time and practice. The boon Molly gave me the Boon of the Mist kept me alive. When I had returned, I told everyone, plain and simple outlanders tried to kill me, and I had done them in. No one messed with me then not for a long while and I kept in secret my Boon what was to be my Curse from my family and friends. I only devoured the hobgoblins at first, then hags, and then bandits only the bad things that got in my way. I only devoured what I hated most. And I suppose maybe that is what made me meaner. When I tried for a cure years later it was in the fear I was losing control. And like always some hero wanted to kill me betrayed by my friend who was in love with our friend who was trying to save me. The man Jack Wilson burned by the decision of the criminal Jean Renaud and those who spurned him. A man who found in horror the price of a Boon seeking redemption. That is why I'll never like heroes always self entitled and ignorant of the decisions they make. I don't regret the lives I took in order to survive and live. If anything I understand the vroloks need to feed and the pains of not feeding. I never understood why some one else's friend to be cured of vrolokism was any different than my need to be cured. I suppose I wasn't as important or loved.

I was wrong for many came to free me of my wrongful death and nurture me. Many came to heal me whose names I don't dare speak in case someone wrongful got my journal. They took a risk and I'm eternally grateful even if the cure was not a true cure, I saw what I must do. Through redemption I hope to purge the evil in my heart and for a time I thought it would work. But my friend Tinu was right there's no white and black of it only grey. My Curse and I are one there is no evil to it no good. I consume Boons to the Powers is twice. I know by the third there is no going back. I want peace from my past life and my rage. I don't want to be like my father and abandon my kids. Some deity help me if anything were to happen to what I love I become that monster they all feared me to be. If I lose her, my precious Grimm Flower, no vrolok not even Strahd, no human even some one like a paladin, no entity would be spared my rage. I am a Wilson forever cursed with the Fury who hungers for Power and yet I'm the only Wilson I know who yearns for peace in his soul. I am tired of my struggles Redemption or Fury take me I hope one or the other decides. I am tired of these threats and tired of these Sheep. It takes all my will to not kill some and to help some. I am tired journal all I want is my little shop my little crafting hall to call my own. I'm happiest when I'm making things especially for my love ones.
"For Evil to win is for good men to do nothing."