Stoian's Journal

[tanikozo]

[Among of sea of notes, reminders, numbers and fairly thorough descriptions of certain persons of interest, a substantively more personal page is sandwiched]

Am I even getting somewhere? Yet again I feel as I've had felt for the most of my life - a follower, a stupid, unremarkable and entirely insignificant Barovian peasant who's way over his head. Yes, I have seen and done things which most ordinary people would have a hard time wrapping their heads around, perhaps only hearing tales of them. Still - my deeds, experience and knowledge did not further my wish to feel free, powerful, important, unbound and the master of my destiny. I simply feel bizarre and disconnected from my countrymen, though is that not what I wanted? Did I not want to be some trembling little cur that runs away from confrontation, out of fear lives in willing ignorance and gets nauseous of smelling goat dung all day? Is that not perhaps the most telling profile of my people?

I might be the stupid one though. For all negative traits, fear which I most brazenly scorn upon and to this day I fight with every single day, the common Barovian is durable, continuing to live in this blighted cesspool, having a family, even managing to scrounge up moments of happiness or at the very least contentedness, all the while living a bleak, monotonous, insignificant life devoid of freedom and agency. How come I can not do that? How come I have decided I am special and that I am to somehow "play the system", outwit powerful men and women, crafting the image of a plain boy from Krezk "making it" and sticking it out to the corrupt wealthy families, the usually arrogant albeit astoundingly powerful outlanders, the Devil's unliving servants who call people like me "cattle", the strange cultists....why do I get to harbour the burning desire to prove a point while for example my good uncle was content with running his little store, living a life just slightly above the common serf in terms of quality? Would I do, feel and think the same things I do right now if my uncle was still alive and if I was still working in his store?


[The tone of writing appears to change, with each paragraph arrogance emanating more and more in a stark contrast to what was written above. The handwriting appears as if done in a hasty and frantic fashion, words etched into the page as if the author was stabbing it with his quill, possibly these sentences written during some sort of inner tantrum]

There is no point in reminiscing and thinking about what might have been though. This fairly uneventful though perhaps comforting path of life was taken away from me, I was left trembling and toothless, had no say in what happened, couldn't do anything, didn't know anything. Some thug or a couple of them, presumably connected to politics and dealings that to this damned day I do not know of, simply nabbed my uncle in the ribs, leaving me with a thumb in my mouth simply to ponder over what happened and why.

Completely alone, completely toothless, completely powerless, completely insignificant. The lowest of the low. Never again.

Was this the catalyst? Did I love my uncle that much for me to embark away from Krezk in the hopes that I put whoever did this to the sword, trample over him, have him beg for his life, see him cry like a child as he sees his life being extinguished by MYSELF?

...Or is this pursuit merely a symbolic one? Merely the first crucial step in battling the feelings of inadequacy and mediocrity? Does not matter. I SHALL do this, I have been getting distracted by my other schemes who were supposed to make me feel accomplished and whole.

The Citadel's both confidential and rank-and-file logs had nothing for me, the people who I told my sob story to, sometimes due to feeling attached to them for some stupid reason and at other times because I wanted to manipulate them, had NOTHING for me. I shall try to seek new sources of information.

There is no other way, it has to be done. Being a Garda Corporal in some fishing village does not satisfy me, being moderately wealthy does not satisfy me, being more knowledgable about the world I live in does not satisfy me, martial prowess does not satisfy me, newfound skills in subterfuge do not satisfy me. Vengeance shall satisfy me and shall embolden me in my quest of making a mark on this world.

There is no time for me to dream of simple life, I am not fit for it. My skillset is vast, my knowledge is vast, I am able to be cruel, I am able to have no mercy, I am able to outwit this blighted land and cut out a piece of it for myself. I am Stoian Stanciu.

[tanikozo]

[After a long while, yet another ramble finds its place amongst the usually ridden with numbers, reminders and gossip pages of the journal of Stoian Stanciu]

Seems like I'll be going back to Vallaki soon, my personal matters have been dealt with and the menial job I had is no longer demanded from me.

I felt nothing when my father died. He died as he lived - reeking of booze. Tsuika was not his murderer though, apparently the old oaf looked at some local big shot's wife the wrong way, tried to woo her and he promptly got his throat slit and his kneecaps broken. His entire face and body was also ridden with scars and bruises, his usual expression - that disgustingly cheerful and smug inebriated mug was replaced with a barely recognisable bloated mess. I almost puked when I had to see his lifeless sack of a body and by all means I am not squeamish - back in the Vallaki Citadel I didn't avoid torture and executions like some of my comrades, perhaps that's why I got all the way up to being a Corporal. Still - my father's corpse was revolting, his pinky fingers were missing as well. They were cut, forcibly. Not a fresh wound though, as I guessed, he financed his passion for booze and loose women with petty crime. I don't know if I'm a more moral man than him, but it's amusing that I am for sure at least a better criminal than him. Moron couldn't even fence stolen silverware, pottery, household goods or whatever he was nicking properly and his handlers had to discipline him twice with a tigan's punishment, as it is called. Meanwhile I somehow dodged the gallows when I 'deserted'. I outdid you, dad - if you knew this you probably would've been proud, useless sack of shit.

Nothing of substance about my uncle's assassins. Yet again nothing. As in Vallaki - I made a couple of contacts here and there, I either charmed them with my woe-is-me sob story and I made use of their pity for me or they were promised payment. Again to no avail. I don't think I even wish to pursue this anymore, I am unable to find the point in anything, I have already theorised why I am obsessed with this plot of vengeance. Power? My intrinsic wish to feel free and unbound and be somebody manifesting into me being the one who takes away life from people and plunges their close ones into grief, instead of the other way around? A simple impulse of having to rectify me being screwed over and left weak? Familial duty? Love?

Whatever. I am tired of trying to find the meaning behind this and why I obsessed over my uncle's death. I don't remember crying when it happened, just like I didn't weep when my father got himself in a casket. I don't feel like I particularly 'loved' uncle Florin, I certainly felt really angry and sad when he was assassinated, but looking back it was probably out of selfishness - simply being mad that my handler had his breath stolen, that my life suddenly became difficult, my only family being gone. It was all about me, most things are about me. I don't feel ashamed to admit what most people don't wish to. My crusade of trying to avenge him is too tiresome and taxing both mentally and financially. I tried to find a meaning in life by chasing after some degenerates, but I do not think I even need a meaning. You grab what you want and can get your hands on and then die in this scummy pile of filth called Barovia, that's what I think I am about to do from now on.

As for my ambitions to feel free, knowledgeable, unchained, powerful and better than the average serf? There's always going to be someone more powerful than I am, always someone that I need to bow down to, it's a useless quest as well. Didn't feel any content when I got promoted twice in the Citadel. I wanted more. Didn't feel any better about myself when I had tons of fang. I wanted more. My mistake has always been trying to do things and reach certain milestones in order to prove something to myself and the others, putting meaning behind everything, telling myself I am going to finally feel potent and important, a master of my destiny, "happy" even. It will never happen, but it's fine - I will simply do whatever I'm good at and keep my psyche distracted by the minor triumphs I manage to muster. I feel liberated in a sense, I will never feel content but I will do whatever it takes to make my life adequate and to feel a modicum of superiority to my peers. I will always be terrified of certain people, but other people will be terrified of me as well.

Should be packing my belongings now, it is already dawn.

[tanikozo]

[A third entry, as with each one, in a very different tone compared to the rest - the Barovian spewing his thoughts which often enough contradict eachother]

First Ophelia and now Kiyosa - why do they think I am a 'good man', whatever that might mean? When I came to Vallaki the plan was to be feared, powerful and respected while I was pursuing vengeance for my uncle - something I've come to think of as futile at least for now. Seems like I did an awfully poor job doing that. Sure, I happily whipped outlanders, tortured some of them, broke fingers, got myself following around an old man way out of his depth as he was serving vroloks, blatantly lied and spewed half-truths to get out of trouble, took bribes - yet here I am being "not so bad". Have I pulled a good enough facade deceiving them? I am selfish and will do what is necessary and what is in my best interest, though selfless people like them seem to gravitate around me. It makes me feel uncomfortable, weird even - though I do kind of like their company. Sometimes it frustrates me, I don't need attachements, it is much more desirable for people to despise and/or fear me rather than 'like' me. Nandru for example had his attachements and the people he loved and respected were taken away from him by this iadul reality we live in. Similar to Nandru, I am too deep in dung and have meddled in affairs above me to afford myself to have close ones that certain powers be it from His family, be it Noapte horrors or hidden tigan blades will take away from me. At least I know how to play by this world's rules unlike him and many others.

[The first letter of the following sentence appears to have tiny blots of ink around it, the letter itself more vivid than the rest - as if the author kept his quill too long on the parchment, perhaps hesitant to write what's on his mind. The sentence appears to be very hastily written, in poorer handwriting than the rest]

I simply hope that a certain few people don't stand in my way or cross my interests, I will try to prevent it. But if it happens - poor luck then.

[tanikozo]

Finally - did some real work, I can say I enjoyed it in some aspects. It reminded me of my Garda days, the way that woman feared for her life when dealing with me - a weird feeling, but I must admit I liked exercising my power over this insolent hag and besides the whore had it coming. People should know who they're dealing with before running their yappy mouth, I came from the mud and have achieved and experienced a lot. Didn't even have to use vraja or frolick with iadul spawn or whatever to get here, I deserve more than literal nobodies acting smug, dismissive or rude towards myself.

The way she suddenly started mouthing her words and losing her bravado as I used the knowledge I have...it was so amusing for some reason. Back in the Citadel I did not derive much enjoyment from throwing my weight around. I just didn't mind doing what had to be done, for example I did not get off torture like some of my more loony colleagues did. This time though, I enjoyed overpowering and intimidating someone with words alone, mixing lies, truths and half-truths to get things going my way. Perhaps lying and twisting the truth has always been my forte, why run away from this aptitude of mine? Some people are fit for charity work, others for beating monsters with a stick, third are destined to simply toil the fields until they drop dead. Seems like I am fit for a life of skullduggery.

There was this bizarre brief moment though, which happened after I did my job. My expression morphed into a cold and detached one and I suddenly disassociated with what had just happened. Was it guilt? Don't think so. Perhaps I struck useless parallels to my uncle, it is more than likely he had to experience the same terror I had just unleashed on that ugly "businesswoman". Mayhaps his death was because of a similar event.

Whatever, it is useless to divulge into nonsense thought exercise like this. I am not the victim this time around, that's the only thing that matters in regards to comparing what I did and what my uncle possibly experienced.

[tanikozo]

My native Krezk has seen much traffic these days, ever since the roads have been cleared for a while and methods of travel have become less cumbersome. Said traffic, regrettably consists mainly of the ignorant outlander scum that is found in the Western Outskirts of Vallaki and the Mist Camp. Such wanton disregard for everything, such indiscretion - yesterday was the first time in many months in which I have been incredibly vexed by a couple of outlanders, who were obviously touched in the head. Touched in the head - multiple times, by a shovel, most likely in infancy.

They spoke of neuri and magic in the Smoldering Embers. Did they not realize that vraja is punishable by death in Wachter territory? Maybe they are used to the slaps on the wrist they get back in Vallaki. I do not know why, but such occurences anger me immensely - it is not that I particularily care about the native patrons and their possible reactions to such unpleasant discussions, neither do I care the slightest about what could happen to the outlanders, should a Wachter militia-man hears of their ramblings - I am also not particularily shocked by talks of the supernatural, considering what I've been through. The problem perhaps is that they just do not care, they do not realize which land they live in, I also despise the indiscrete and foolish. They were obviously fairly new arrivals to Barovia, how come they speak of such things so casually? How come they get to be so unafraid and unconcerned? How come I had to endure hardships, journeys of soul searching, lengthy philosophical dialogues, had to do a lot of reading, had to hone my martial and subterfuge skills - and all that just to be not as afraid as most of my countrymen and be aware that even though Barovia is a dunghole, some dangers may be averted and some foes may be defeated - but of course, one should not test Old Noapte or Him.

Yet there they were, flaunting how indifferent they are to the supernatural and frightening in a tavern full of Barovians. It was as if they were making fun of my countrymen, rubbing it into their faces, more importantly - making fun of me by extension, since I was also present. I told them to shut their traps. They listened, even if one outlander woman threatened me with bashing my head in or something. Stupid insolent whore, I am a wolf, and she is cattle. I am -- [The following several passages are redacted multiple times in a crude fashion - leaving only an illegible mess]

I have also talked with Nandru in Krezk, after some sunkisser ceremony I barely cared about. He appears to be broken and purposeless, yet again confirming my view that you'd be foolish to want to make some kind of "change", struggle against tyrants, criminals, Old Noapte and whatnot -- you'd eventually lose and will be swiftly forgotten. It is much wiser to play the cards you are given and to play by the cosmic rules that dictate the world. Nandru failed. I feel sorry for him, he has helped me quite a bit in the past.

Then again, I do not like how I behave around this man - there are still some sentimentalities that are present in regards to Anghelescu. A sunkisser "chosen one" or something, sometimes acting holier-than-thou, a strongly moral and noble man and yet -- I happen to respect him and he happens to return said respect to me. If only he knew what I'm all about. He'd probably shun me, alongside other amicable faces I know. Would probably be for the better, I don't need my path being challenged, criticized and discussed to me by them through the lense of useless morality. Their influence is dangerous, I should be wary.

On the other side of things, my current associates are solid. They are a lot like me, even if some are outlanders, I do not have to question myself and my actions in their presence. I can be...myself?

[tanikozo]

The mask has fallen. If people really thought that I'd be content with being a simple nobody, no different than the Vallaki Outskirts vagrants, after I bolted off from the dung infested Citadel - they were wrong. I did not expect being granted such a position I admit - though I'd be unnecessarily modest if I say that I do not deserve it. In fact I do deserve it. Good days are coming for me and my subordinates I can sense it in the air already. After the current debacle is settled, I shall put the wheels in motion for the numerous ideas I've had in the back of my head for a while now.

Family above all.

[tanikozo]

[During an eerily quiet night in the Red Vardo headquarters, Stoian opens his sparringly used personal journal..Before he gets to writing a brief entry in a blitz of a pace, he wets what appears to be cut pinky finer in ink, imprinting it on the pages.. Beady eyes on Stoian's face, as if he is a man possessed, the rush of a recent event still eminent in the air - the Barovian drugged on feelings of grandeur, the opiate of a power trip, never seen before even in the heyday of his Garda days, scarily morphing his visage..a far cry from his usual dour or bored disposition and an even farther cry from his rare moments of wamth, sincere appreciation, honesty and humanity - said attributes being witnessed by his few and now mostly estranged friends or certain past foes, whom he had learned to respect. The ruthless Lieutenant of the Vallaki Red Vardo Traders now devoid of said, brushing them aside as "weaknesses", unless he has carefully buried them away for now]

Ally or not, FUCKING AROUND with me is not an err that is to be left unpunished.