Navaar Family/Cayden/Cayden Navaar Roleplays
Contents
Aspects of the Flame
8/23/2020
Cayden had started traveling from Aix toward the evening with a goal of the capital. The recent cold snap made it harder to get supplies as everyone was rushing for warm clothes, blankets, and coal. The only time he was glad for his appearance was when it caused him to get better prices, or hard to find goods. He accidentally intimidated a few extra blankets out of a shop keeper that may have been his own. Though he had not spoken with the realm at large, he was already being sent confusing missives, and while he rode in a carriage he had taken to chronicling his adventures.
Day 1: Today I started as a knight of Aix. Lord Lucius seems like a good lord, even if he shares a name with that annoying brother of mine. Oddly, the nobility seems obsessed with eggs. I'm not sure if this is a new food trend, or if I should be concerned. Either way, eggs do not travel well with military units, so I should be happy to be left well enough alone for the remainder of my trip at least.
As the ink dried, he placed a marker in the journal and set the book aside. What kind of people was he going to meet next?
8/24/2020
There was something in the air, something dangerous. He reached out and his hand found the grip of his axe. Dimwood was supposed to be a quick travel on the route to Perdan. It was supposed to be easy. Get to the city. Choose his path. Become someone. He had plans. His vision swam in front of him, became misty. He swallowed before he could vomit all over the carriage and released his axe. He fumbled for his journal on the seat next to him and began scribbling at a quick pace. Perdan, Day 2: Another bout of adscaea my illness. I have to get away from the men, and into the woods for a bit. As always, I hope my mind returns.
He slammed the journal shut without waiting for the ink to dry. He'd be lucky if anything was legible. His hand instinctively grabbed for the great axe by his side once more. It dug into the wood of the carriage as he dragged it along behind him leaving a peel of lumber as it came loose when he stepped into fresh air. Lucidity returned to him for a moment as his driver stopped at his charge's sudden exit. "I'm going to try my hand at hunting for dinner. Tell the men to take a break!" The scribe sitting by the driver nodded and hopped down to go speak with the men. Cayden didn't watch to see that his orders were carried out. Instead he swung the axe over his shoulder and began stalking toward the forest. His driver shrunk back as if seeing his charge for the first time.
From the previous journals of Cayden Navaar Ren Madragas, Volume 4, Date Unknown:
Today has been a wonderful day! My training is coming along nicely, and the sages of the Tower tell me that I have a talent for handling the ancient scrolls found around the land. They want to begin my training as one that may seal the portals of Daimons...
From the previous journals of Cayden Navaar Ren Madragas, Volume 4, Date Unknown:
I successfully called down a beam of holy light to obliterate the undead! At least one of the undead. The scroll crumbled to ash when I was done. It was a feeling unlike anything I'd ever known!
From the previous journals of Cayden Navaar Ren Madragas, Volume 5, Date Unknown:
I found a unique scroll in the archives. No one at the Tower recognized it. I requested the ability to study it as I found it. My teachers, wanting to encourage me let me so long as I make sure they are made aware of everything I'm doing! Let's see what this does...
From the previous journals of Cayden Navaar Ren Madragas, Volume 5, Date Unknown:
The spell failed. I don't know what happened, but I've heard that spells can backfire on the caster. I should have determined the nature of the scroll a bit further, but.... The remainder of the page is torn.
From the forest, the sounds of a deer screaming could be heard. It was the unnatural noise of an animal caught unawares by something that shouldn't have caught it. Cayden's mind returned slowly, satisfied with his hunt as he began his return from the trees. With each step his looming presence returned to the studious demeanor of the intimidating knight, but that did not stop any of them from looking on in horror. Blood stained the axe he balanced on his shoulder with one hand, and had splattered on his cloak and clothes. In his other hand he was dragging the carcass of the deer. It had been beheaded with the head nowhere to be seen, the decisive blow, but not the first if the gash in the poor creature's side and twisted leg were anything to judge by.
Perdan, Day 2: Another bout of adsca a my illn ss. I have to get away om the men, and into the woods a bit. As always, I hope mnmmd rsdans.
My mind returned, though I believe I will need to hire a new coachman, and I may need to seriously consider my future once again...
8/29/2020
"Something is coming!" Cayden bolted awake from a restless slumber.
In the early hours of a false dawn, he pulled himself together and got dressed. He did not know why, but the urge to look toward the ocean was unstoppable. As he rushed outside, he pushed his way past the maids preparing the first meal of the day, and to the door of the inn. As he burst outside, unsure of what to expect, he stared into the distance. Thick smoke still welled up from the islands. His usual smile faded and his mind started to blur. No journal to help him. He stepped back and leaned against the building, taking short, quick breaths. Hold it together, he thought.
From the Journals of Cayden Navaar: Perdan
Strange portents are happening across the continent. Something is happening, and I wish I could get to the bottom of it. I've begun listing the ones I've heard about. Could it be Daimons? Gods? Only time will tell.
Images flashed through Cayden's mind in such a rush that he barely any time to make sense of them. Each one was slightly twisted as he blamed it on his magic addled mind.
A lake drained of water and filled with salt. Wastelands, uncharted and devoid of life. Flooded fields. People, choking, smothered, lost.
More visions came, as he stumbled into the back alley of the inn. Thankful for the early hours, he retched in a corner until there was nothing left in his system. Finally, he came back around to the front of the inn and sank to the ground as he found a place on the front steps to regain his composure.
8/31/2020
Cayden had locked himself in his inn room for days now. The visions he had had before kept assaulting him, but today he made his way outside. Doomsayers could be heard on the corners, calling for salvation. The religious turned to their gods. Everything was so tense a pin could be heard dropping in the streets as everyone spoke in hushed whispers. He had taken time to study his visions between assaults, linking it up with accounts he could pry out of the innkeeper. The ocean was draining. He was sure of it. New land was coming in a way that no one could have foreseen. He wanted to tell someone, but who would believe him? A darker voice chimed in the back of his mind, Who would I have to kill after being declared a heretic? The only thing he could say he was happy about was that the visions were holding back his episodes.
Once in the streets though, he found himself slowly plodding along, trying to pick out words and rumors. Were there more people? A refugee situation would only make things worse. Food would become scarcer soon. He made a note to stock up on extra provisions.
9/2/2020
Battle. Battle. Battle battle battle battle...
As the soldiers lined up, the word beat through his skull in a rhythm. His body urged him to resist, but strange phenomena were overtaking the world. A pulse from another image flashing through his mind as people vanished beneath a sword made of water caused his resistance to falter. His breathing slowed. His eyes dulled. Shortly after meeting her, he warned his Captain that she may need to do more commanding in battle. Not that he wouldn't fight, but he may not be as useful as a leader. As they prepared for combat, his last thoughts were a sigh that he was right.
The rhythm changed. Battle slowly slipped away, only to be replaced with the word kill.
When he came too, Cayden was surrounded by a ring of corpses, blood covering his armor and his axe. His men were rallied not too far away. He sighed and swung the axe up to rest on his shoulder as he started trudging back towards his men.
9/8/2020
The Citadel of Flames, was what the returning population began calling the newly reformed region of Chaos Temple. A stronghold, standing tall over the only path to the Perdan Mines, overseeing swaths of volcanic territories from its peaks, and off in the distance even a small city could be seen. From here, he could see why people believed there was something special. The towering citadel in the region was a perfect analogy for the meeting of the earth, sea and sky, centered around an old temple. The local guards had blocked off the center of the citadel from most people out of caution, not having taken the time to fully explore the new unblocked corridors. That didn't stop Cayden from entering though. Quickly flashing an official looking seal and with a strong glare, the guards relented to the man with the axe that looked like he might crush them, and only collected a minor entry fee as if he were there on business.
Ash and dust lingered in the first new corridor, tainting the air with a thick cloud that could choke out a man of smaller stature. With his height he only had to deal with the lingering staleness of the air. He swept his gaze back and forth in the torch light as it revealed perfectly smooth obsidian with scattered pillars of granite. He wondered if the signaled rooms sealed in molten rock as he moved deeper into the new corridors.
From the Journals of Cayden Navaar Perdan Day 17, Summer
Another wave of visions hit me. They seem to be overtaking my rages, as if something changed. I used to dream of days when I wouldn't lash out at the world, but now... Now, I wonder if they were a prelude to the events that changed the world. The empty ocean exists where the volcanic isles once rested, and the volcano has uncovered many things once lost. I feel myself drawn there now more than ever. Joining the expedition was the right choice, I feel.
Oh, right! My visions. Everything burning. A fire without end. Eyes that gleam in a myriad of colors, but it's the red eyes that stand out the most. They feel familiar, as if they were a part of my rages all this time. The closer I get to the citadel, the more I feel I need to go there, as if something is calling out to me. I see them every night in my dreams, and every day... Am I finally losing it?
After a point, the torches died out. Cayden hesitated as he looked down a pair of pitch black hallways. Judging by the prints his boots made in the dust, no one had gone much farther, waiting to get supplies, and probably some miners to judge the integrity. He drew out his lantern, prepared to strike it. He had to continue. He couldn't make it to his flint before the next wave of visions hit him. Red. Bright red. Something screaming for freedom, to be known to the world once again. His grip started to loosen on the lantern, and he barely caught it in time, focusing on reality once more. He turned left and started walking.
It wasn't until he was in pitch darkness that he realized he had no idea where he was, or how he hadn't hurt himself yet. Taking his flint, he fumbled with his lantern until it opened. The sparks didn't burn his hand, and after a couple, he had an idea as to where the wick was. When it finally took, Cayden was still encased in darkness. Everything around him was obsidian. Unsure of his whereabouts, lost, confused, he leaned against the opaque wall... and fell.
9/9/2020
Cayden remained in darkness, his lamp flickering out as it clattered to the ground before rolling off. Having hit the ground, he could only assume he'd fallen into another passageway, one obscured so deep in darkness and black stone that he could not distinguish it from the walls around him. Still, he lived, and that was something. He rolled onto his knees and checked his pockets. Flint? Check. Carefully, not wanting to fall into a hole, he began carefully crawling around, looking for his lantern. Each breath made him want to choke as he kicked up centuries of ash and dust. It had to be here somewhere.
From the Misplaced Journal Entries of Cayden Navaar Beluaterra, Ren Madragas Date Unknown
As much as it pains me to admit, I did not immediately leave and disappear into the unknown after... The incident... My first instinct was to reach out to my brothers, not my Tower brethren, but my own flesh and blood still serving there. Soren told me to return. Things could be fixed and forgiven. I killed ten men with an axe. The axe sitting in the corner across from me. What happened? Something inside me changed. One might think it's a Daimon's influence, but this feels different. It was as if I opened my mind to the earth and felt the call of something ancient and powerful. I have to stay silent until I can flee somewhere safe. What I write here may easily be read, but I fear if I do not I may lose myself completely. The pen and page are my only safe confidant, and that is a safety I would not test right now.
Lucius is sending me my journals. I've had to make due with regular parchment, scribbling down my thoughts until I can recommit them to something safer.
9/9/2020
Cayden found his lantern after what felt an eternity fumbling in the darkness. He quickly tried lighting it once more, the wick being stubborn to take the flame after its poor treatment. Skritch. Scritch. Skritch. He sighed. Skritch. Skritch. Skritch. Nothing. Skritch. Skritch. Fss. The flame sprang to life with an attitude, threatening to almost immediately die out. It dimmed. Then, a miracle. Cayden stared into the flame, only to realize it was black. A black flame? His eyes widened, and he almost threw the lantern away, but managed to catch himself. It was his only light source. What sort of magic was this? He examined the lantern, looking for anything that may have caused the change, but only found ash from the ground within. Ash?
Cayden looked himself over, surprised by how much light a black flame could provide. He was covered in ash from the floor. Dusting himself off , he scooped some up from his clothes and studied it. Nothing seemed special. He looked back at the flame and wondered, curiosity slowly winning over whatever sensibilities he had. Cautiously, he opened the lantern and threw the dust inside.
From the Journals of Cayden Navaar Perdan, Day 15, Summer
The flames are all I see in my dreams some nights. I'm surrounded by fires in a never ending swirl of color. It's the red flames I'm wary of the most. From within I hear the call of a woman. She tries to tempt me to her, but the flames speak of my days in a rampage. She is the daimon that corrupted me. I can't sleep any more tonight.
When the flame erupted in blue, Cayden did drop the lantern this time, and once again barely snatched it from the air, nearly knocking out the flame. "The ash turns the flame?" he wondered aloud. Seeing the floor around him looking intact, he began to make his way around the room. Several books rested on a shelf to the side, but the moment he opened one, its pages began crumbling to dust. The ink long burned and faded from existence. Holding the lantern to the walls, he began to see carvings. People worshiping a fire. The volcano? The blue light cast unique shadows on the etchings making him more interested if the light cast a different story. Another pinch of ash went into the lantern causing a golden light to cast down on the little worshipers. It seemed right, somehow. He cast the light over more of the wall, but few of the markings survived the ages. When he got to the back of the room, a small altar rested with a series of twisted candle holders, at least hoped that was what they had been. No candles would have survived.
The golden lamp light cast up at the walls, revealing another survived carving. He smiled and studied it. Something about it seemed familiar. A figure coming out of what looked to be a pool. Maybe the volcano itself? The words carved beneath it were in a strange tongue, but some of the letters he recognized. He might be able to find a scholar that could pronounce them, or so he hoped as he set his lantern down to scribble them into his journal. Looking at the looming figure on the wall, he remembered how the image looked right under a different flame. Taking a pinch of ash from the altar, he threw it inside the lantern.
From the Journals of Cayden Navaar Perdan, Day 15, Summer
Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, or so I heard the saying go. But I've seen real insanity in the eyes of a burning, red, creature from beyond the world.
Red flames erupted to life bringing the shortest-lived smile he had ever had the displeasure of wearing. As he looked up, the figure on he wall was cast in a new light. He immediately turned his head and vomited. His breakfast lay mingled with the ash, soaking it up into a disgusting paste on the ground while if felt like the room was watching him. His temperature spiked. It was getting warmer as he broke out into a full sweat. The demon plaguing his mind wasn't just a figment of his imagination. Those eyes, bathed in red, were something he'd worn before. Images flashed in his mind. The eyes, over and over taunted him as they slowly pulled back. A daimon! Wait. A Goddess? A woman wreathed in flames reached out to him, looked at him with immovable eyes, and pressed a finger to his forehead. "Say my name..." the voice demanded. He didn't know when he started screaming, but as he fell to his knees, and then to the floor a single word escaped his lips. A name. "Galtea." Darkness consumed him.
From the Journals of Cayden Navaar Perdan, Day 15, Summer
There is power in a name. I fear giving such power to that which haunts the shadows of my mind, but it has a name...
