Secret Lives of Warlocks [Solheim Society]

[Rosencrat]

Spoiler:

This thread is for Solheim Society members who want to catalog their in-character actions and character development.


The thread is particularly useful for diary entries, letters, memos and other short written items.

We ask that only Society Members post in the thread. If you are involved in a Society Storyline, however, you can also post so long as it is pertinent to the Society role-play.

Marianna's Apartment
Society Manor

Marianna felt old.

The warlock was spread out across her bed, her head propped up on a pillow. She had wiped away her make-up and her coat was half-unbuttoned, the white suit's broad lapels pulled apart. She felt old and tired and stiff.

She turned onto her side and reached out for her little box of pills. Black pills for mood. Red pills for pain. Orange pills for the head. Yellow pills for the heart. Each segmented neatly in their own little chamber. She pulled out a few of the pain killers and one of the mood pills and put them in her mouth, swallowing them with a good measure of spit. The chemical coating burned her tongue and she took a sip of water to wash it away.

There. That will keep the mood up. Dull the pain for another hour. You have a few moments of clarity before the lethargy and the useless joy sinks in. Get some work done.

The old warlock slid off her bed and shuffled over to her desk. She began to rifle through the stack of fresh memos and letters, picking a few odd sentences from each.

Lucille, Dastin, Lanus approved for position of Hunter...

...Stephan beginning valuable research...

I would like to complain about the violent actions of Svenn...

...Charity Tournament possible opportunity for...

Injuries & Break In caused by mysterious...

The woman pushed them back into a stack and dropped them into the rubbish bin. She knew all of this. She had glued herself to her seat long enough to listen to everyone yammer on and on about this all. The paperwork was only useless repetition.

Marianna sat down and pulled out a fresh piece of paper and pen. Replying to the memos can wait. She still had her head. And she had been meaning to write another letter for a while now.

My dearest daughter,

I do hope you are staying safe & healthy as you continue your life's goal of getting yourself killed and keeping your womb barren...

The woman pushed the letter into the rubbish bin with the rest of the memos and began again.

My dearest daughter,

I do hope you are staying safe & healthy as you go on your little adventures. It is my hope that you will get this desire to be a soldier out of your system soon. True war is looming and I would much prefer seeing you at home than in a shallow grave.

Marianna set her pen aside and rubbed at her jaw. The numbness was already setting in. Her face was growing slack and she could feel the chemicals start to bubble at the edges of her consciousness.
She picked up her pen again and returned to the letter.

My private project is going well. I know that it seems dull, compared to the high-treason and villainy that our family was involved in before the Cataclysm. But it is a necessary dullness. For the sake of my kind and for the sake of myself.

The black pill was kicking in. She could feel the warmth start to fill her head; a senseless, unreasonable happiness that radiated outwards through her slowly numbing body. It felt good. She wanted to share her joy. Pour the sudden revelation of deep, baseless happiness out to fill the gap between them.

This will help me, at least in a small way, to make up for my past sins. I want to be a better mother. A better person. I want to put my past behind me and change. And I will. For you. For your brother. For the people who trust me and the people who don't.

I'll be the woman that I should be. And I will not slip back and become the woman I was before.

Carry this knowing it has my eternal love,
Mother

The woman leaned back to admire her work. The medication had her in its sway completely; she was happy, numb, every muscle nearly putty. Her smile would have hurt if she could feel her face.

Marianna pushed herself up and wobbled back over to the bed. In a few hours, when the pills wore off, she would read over the letter again and burn it. It was useless sentimentality. Until then, however, she was happy to have the chance to try to re-connect with her daughter.

The old woman sank into the sheets. She thought it would be nice, as she sank into sleep, if she dreamed about her family. She hadn't dreamed about her family in a while.

In a few moments she was dozing peacefully. If she dreamed, she didn't remember it when she woke up. All she felt was being old and tired and sore.

[WindZealot]

Lucille began to pace her part of the room, her earrings dangling from her ears as usual. She stopped suddenly as she heard a familiar voice yell from the halls.

"DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW UTTERLY TWISTED I COULD LIKELY MAKE YOU, LUCY-DEAR?"

The screaming of a young girl could be heard, and Lucille literally saw herself as a twelve year old run into the room and bury herself in the bed, then fading away, the 26-year old Lucille merely stared and shivered a little.

"…But that was…so long ago…Damn you, Crugeth, throwing me down the dark path…"

Hopefully nobody saw.

She moved to the book upon the desk, that was near her bed, and opened it up, there lay all the notes she had taken since she joined the Society. All of them. Some hastily scribbled in, and one was underlined, and written much more clearly than the others.

NEVER INTERRUPT MARIANNA'S MONOLOGUES. EVER.

Lucille smiled, and walked back to her bed, and climbed into it. Sleep would quickly overtake her…

[FlyingSquirrel]

"Bauglir." The Paladin, Kathleen, stood before the Orc, encased in her dark grey armor, as she always was. She had the face of a shrewd, calculated woman, with dirty blonde hair tucked into a lazy, yet effective, bun and eyes that stood out like cerulean pools amongst a field of grain. Her armor was bent, with the naked joints of it showing the red cloth beneath, cloth that was mimicked by the tattered cloak that hung around her sunken shoulders. She stood before the pew that Bauglir sat on, viewing the orc with the apprehensive look that she reserved specifically for him. "We need to talk." Without another word, she turned, making her way to one of the siderooms of the church.

The Blademaster looked up at her. He sighed as she left, steeling himself for the less-than-joyful encounter that was to come. Kathleen had the advantage of authority, seniority, and the trust of the members of the church. The trust part was one that Bauglir was particularly disdainful towards, but few other than Malberry and Jill stood behind their words, after what happened to Jack and Reinhart. She was the one who'd stimmied every action he'd taken, and he was confident that she was going to continue, as long as she could. Nevertheless, he picked himself off of the bench and, with a bonepopping shrug of his shoulders, followed her into the room.

She had already sat on the opposite end of the desk, sitting on a small wooden chair. He looked at the chair that he would have sat in, but immediately knew it would not work. So, he merely leaned, raising an eyebrow at the woman to let her know he was listening. She took a sigh, exhaling out of her nose. She locked her eyes with his, the red and the blue conflicting like lightning and water. "Bauglir, I need you to stop coming to the church." She let the words hang in the air like a death sentence, and they might of well had been such. The blood in his system that had ran like a river froze at the words, slugging down to a crawl. He looked at her, trying to make some sense out of it, but all that he could muster was a choked "What?" The connection of their eyes broke as she looked away, finding interest in the floorboards. "The bandits have been following you from the hills. That, and the fact that this coven that you've been ranting about has already proven to be too much for us."

Bauglir narrowed his eyes to slant, taking a hand off of the chair to throw it skywards. "You can't be serious. This isn't something you can just toss as-." She dismissed his words with a mere raise of her hand, bringing her eyes back up to meet with his. "I don't know what you expected from us, Bauglir, but a coven that has the ability to force one into complete silence and shatter the other's ability to commune with the Light? We can't handle that. You know that. Perhaps we could have, when we had people like Je--" Bauglir sneered, his voice skyrocketing to a yell. "You can't bring him into this! This has nothing to do with him!"

She stood up, revealing a sword hanging off of her hip. Her own voice raised to match his own, a shrill yell contending with his own booming voice. "Doesn't it?! I'm sure you would know all about that. You're nothing but bad news to his children! One of them turned out alright, sure. The other? You come back after years of hiatus, fill his head with visions of grandeur and he comes back so messed up he can't remember anything from that time?! He's been here for over a month and we still have no progress! Why?! Because of you! And that's what you'll do to the church! You have been nothing but bad news ever since the day that -he-" She let the word hang in the air, saturating the air with the Orc's guilt, "found you. Since then, our membership has either been slaughtered or fled, our original church has been destroyed by Undead and now we cower instead of fight! All since we found you!"

A silence filled the room. Kathleen took the opportunity to scan his face. She sat back down, her own face being replaced by a mask of apathy that she wore by default nowadays. "I'm sure that if things all go like you've been saying they will, you'll find a way to stop it. There's not a single person in this Church who doesn't believe in you and your ability to solve problems, but we simply can't match you in bravery or strength. We simply cannot offer the resources to help." She gave his face one last glance, before looking downwards, into her own lap.

The Orc rubbed a hand over his forehead, using the other to balance himself on the small chair. After a deep breath and a few seconds of pause, he looked up at her. "Don't give me all that bullshit about bravery. If you knew a thing about it, you wouldn't be here, and nor would I. And don't tell," his face transformed into a sneer, "me to be strong. I am not strong. You know this. If I was strong," He put emphasis on the word, letting it hang in the air for a second before continuing, "I would not be here and I would never have met you all. No, I am here because I am nothing more than a craven weakling, and you know this!" As he made his way through the last four words, his voice raised into a shout, a mixture of spittle and his own tears flying across the desk. His hand rose to cover his eyes, specificly the tears. The last action he could muster was shaking his head, his voice a bare whisper. "Oh, my dear, dear Kathleen."

Kathleen watched this all, not a flicker of emotion betraying the mask that she wore. When he was done, he was given a few seconds of calm, before she stood up. Silently, she pulled the sword slightly out of it's sheathe. She looked at the Orc, allowing a glimmer of empathy. "Bauglir, I need you to leave." Their eyes met again, hers a cold stare and his, starry from the tears that had quickly flooded them. He knew he could overpower her. But what would that get him? He took one last breath, shuddering from the effort, before offering her a small little nod.

He took one last look around the church. Jack was sitting in a corner, eyes closed, and likely deep in meditation. A pang of guilt passed through Bauglir's system as he walked by the man. He was almost out of sight of the church before he heard a yell coming from behind. He turned around and waited, watching as Lily ran towards him. As she reached him, there were no words to be said and no actions to be done. She threw herself into his arms, gripping the Orc tightly. "Jack told me you were leaving. Don't worry, I'll come see you there." She grinned as she felt his jaw opening against her shoulder, cutting him off. "Don't worry, Father Malberry would have me go whether you objected or not." She pushed herself away and offered the Orc a weak smile. "My duties here will likely keep me busy, but don't worry! I'll visit you!" She nodded and turned, returning to the now distant church. Bauglir watched her until his retinas burned. Then, he turned and made his way back to whatever fate Marianna had been planning for him.

[Rosencrat]

Marianna woke up hung-over.

The warlock’s brain felt liquefied, a black sludge suspending a yoke of poison that pressed against her sinuses. She turned carefully so as not to disturb the thin sack, so that it didn’t rupture and spill pain through her head and liquefy her brains out of her ear.

She stared at the glass oil lamp on the nightstand for the three seconds before the light began to hurt her eyes. She picked up the book from the table and set it on the top of the lamp, starving the fire and putting the flame out. The yoke rippled but didn’t break.

The woman lay for a few moments in the darkness before she clawed out from under the sheets and dragged herself over to the desk. The notice she had written after dinner, when she was still riding that bubbling warmth of joy and camaraderie, was on her desk atop a new stack of memos.

The woman carried it to her apartment door and leaned outside, just long enough to tack it to the outside of the metal door. She left it there along with the other petitions and letters stuck to the doorway before crawling back inside and to bed.

To my dearest friends,

Let me be, if not the first then at least one of the multitudes, to congratulate Lucille, Lanus and Dastin for their elevation to the rank of Hunter.

The Society does not stand on rules. The Society is rules, our code of conduct being the skeleton that maintains and advances our energies and actions. And, to safe-guard this core, the Hunters have been created, under the care and compassion of our council member Rainoth, to act as police and punisher.

As a Hunter, each of these three exemplary individuals can no longer count themselves among the cause. They are now the consequence. Each Hunter has been granted the capacity to execute their duties as agents of the Society’s will.

You may not respect the laws of The Society. You may not agree with the laws of the Society. But the Hunters are tasked with enforcing the laws of the Society. Respect their duty and do not blame them for their actions, for they are simply serving as agents of order.

May they never need to see use.

Sincerely,
Marianna Bisen
Society President

[WindZealot]

If one were to inspect the thin booklet laying upon the desk of Lucille's little…enclosure, they would find several parts that appear to have once held pages. If they looked in the waste bin…they'd find the pages. Filled with insane notes that Lucille had taken down…which shall not be detailed.