Planning:
The Maldesia Chronicles: The War of Two Families (In Progress)
The Maldesia Chronicles: Firestorm
The Maldesia Chronicles: The Rift
A Vengeful Rain's continuation, if I can think up a few more characters.

This post is subject to change.

Grin and Bear it

I believe myself to be someone who does not complain. I do not like people who whine about their miserable lives and how they wish they were dead. Trust me, it is not any more fun. Look, look, I will even smile for you and let you know that perhaps your life is better than you thought. You have one, live it well.

P.S. Malicci has enchanted his dagger with flames. I am not easily scared, but...

The Trainee

I revealed my true self to a person I met long ago. He remembers me as a friend and that... breaks my heart. I hate to say this, but I'm actually rather sad for him. If he knew what I did for a living, that would break his poor, tender heart and I will not have that. He remembers a holy man who did not have to feed on people to unlive. It is just so adorable, I might die. Again.

Smile now, that was a joke. If you don't, I just might get the tools again. Oh, good, that's a wonderful smile.

Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the adorable young paladin. I did make myself so sympathetic in his eyes, I believe. You know better, don't you? Oh, but I hardly lied! I simply disguised the facts I didn't want him to know and told the truth when it was beneficial to me! Oh, are you saying that sounds like a lie? Hmm. Well, then. Perhaps I lied a little. It doesn't matter, does it? I really am servant to the Belroth, I made that clear to him. So. Much. Sympathy! He asked if he could free me. Isn't that cute? I thought so.
I did have to cry, though, not something I like doing at all.

Naughty, Naughty

Klara-Luchia, you naughty girl! Stealing a child for me. I hadn't asked for food yet. Oh well, this one has a lot of life to steal, not to mention the innocence of a child is simply divine.
----
That boy is an idiot. That is all I have to say about that.

Spirit of Memory is taking a long time to perfect. It burns like a mother- what? All right, I guess your ears are too sensitive.

Priory Point Arrival

So this is where they ran off... I have to be honest, the place could use a little sprucing up.

So it turns out, Tyval is now the Captain of the Guard, and not a very well-liked one. If he continued to get on people's nerves, he could have been lynched by a mob that would leave nothing left for me. I could not have that happen, now could I? Even so, some citizens will not arrange any appointments to his interviews simply because it is him. The solution is obvious, isn't it?
He needs a new face, someone they do not distrust. My story will reel them in, make them sympathetic. A creature of the shadows will not easily harbor ill will toward a wraith. It should work. This plan will be said to Tyval as soon as possible.

As for the other residents of Priory Point, I must say I enjoy looking at the women in this quaint town. Lovely Lilly's Magic Emporium I recommend going into just to have a look at the chest on that seraph. Buy a few things if something catches your eye, but the lady running it is surely divine. Do not tell her I said so; She has told me that fire is her specialty. I am rather averse to that particular element.

As for Malicci and the others of his ilk, they are attending a meeting in Morte. I am supposed to be watching Matthias while they are gone, but I have plans I need to put into effect here. Namely, my plan for Tyval. Klara-Luchia can watch the child for me. Matthias has learned to lie for me and so I will not receive punishment for shirking my duty to the two-headed coin that is Malicci Belroth.

He really does not look like a Norton

Malicci found out that I did not watch Matthias like I was supposed to. It turns out, he reads this journal. Perhaps I should choose a better hiding place.

In any case, after a close encounter with that flaming dagger of his, he asked exactly what plans I have for a certain paranoid paladin. You, the reader, will simply have to stay in the dark until the plan is carried out. He, however, was told extensively. The fact that that plan was what kept me busy got him to put away that dagger before he did anything rash with it.

He had several suggestions for this plan, some of which I considered. Others I rejected outright. My plan has to do with stealth. An army of zombies would not help in the slightest.

As for the stage in my plan to become the City Guard's paperwork man, it has to be approached in a different manner. How? I could use a bit of help on that matter.

Scratch the above, being in the guard requires being in the Fighter's Guild. Malicci can fight and he did say he wanted in on my scheme. Okay, if he wants to, he could become the spy in this case. If he wants to.

For the time being, Tyval's face looks as if it was chewed up by a demilich and then spit out. Malicci has no method that can make you look like that. Let us keep it that way, shall we?

Tomorrow being Saturday, I will spend my time in Maldesia, sparring with Matthias. It is also the day Malicci arrives in Priory Point. I must say I am relieved to know he will not be around me at that time. I am not afraid of him... I am completely terrified of him. He has quite the temper... or is that how he shows he is aroused? It may be both.

Never Again, I Promise

Today, Matthias brought up a very good point. "If you hate Uncle Mal so much, why not just eat him?" Well, I will tell you something. If you have ever wondered why he looks ten years older than how many years he has spent on this earth, that is because he is. When I fed from him, I took ten years of his life-- Never will I do that again. Never again.

When he becomes a lich, which I do not doubt will happen because he enjoys following in the footsteps of his father, he will have his immortality... At the cost of his humanity. It must mean nothing to him to be human. [Some words have been stricken out thoroughly.] If he saw what I have written there, I would never leave his family tomb. I do not need that right now, no thank you.

From what I heard from him about his time at Priory Point, he nearly fudged the interview with Tyval. I did not think that was possible. Tyval is the most gullible paladin you will ever meet. If I may be so bold, perhaps bringing in Norton Maelstrom was not the best of ideas...

Like cat and mouse, the Brennan and Belroth families of Maldesia continued to chase each other. The Brennans were warriors of good and holy light and followers of the Goddess of Nature, Liia. They fought for what was good and just, as Paladins of their Goddess.

Conversely, the Belroth followed a God known only as Mann, the God of darkness and undeath. Known as Necromancers to the outside world, but as Ritualists within their circle, they were the Brennan family’s polar opposite.

A Ritualist was a Necromancer whose bloodline was unable to do magic on its own. Instead, they would do blood rituals in service to Mann and gain their strength from Him. Some members of the Belroth family did not have that problem. Most did.

As for Maldesia itself, the best way to describe it would be a world in which several large countries resided. This story only focuses on one named Houvis and it begins in one of its cities; Morte, where a ten-year-old boy woke up to a bright, new day.

Across the room from his bed was a four-year-old girl who looked similar to him. She played with her blocks; an adorable sight the boy tended not to like. Cuteness was icky. While he rubbed his baby blue eyes, the little black-haired boy walked outside of his bedroom into a hallway. His eyes did not yet adjust to the light and the mess before him remained out of his knowledge. He opened them once he walked into the dining room and saw older twin girls and a younger boy with their heads down on the table. The boy did not question this occurrence. However, he did question why there were so many broken dishes littered across the floor.

“Was Papa angry?” he asked the other children. “Malta?”  The boy prodded one of the girls at the table. “Come on, Malta, wake up,” he told her. “Come on, this isn’t funny.” Another push and the girl simply toppled over. Green bubbles escaped from her mouth and smeared on the table.

The boy backed up quickly before he ran down the hallway to an empty bedroom. The mattress was a tattered mess and the walls were covered with blood spatter. “Papa…” His heart pounded like a jackrabbit as he ran toward the office of the city guard.

“Good morning, Malicci,” a guardsman greeted. He leaned toward the child as the boy attempted to catch his breath. “Is something the matter?” the guardsman asked.

The boy said in-between shallow breaths, “Mama and Papa… gone… Help…”

---
Making Papa Proud
---
The children grew up with the aid of the man in silver. He brought them food and taught the boy how to handle himself in battle, should he ever need to.

Malicci grew into his teen years and began to wear a dark leather vest and pants with a blue silk shirt underneath with a symbol on each shoulder; the symbol was a red circle with two triangles at the bottom pointed upward.

As for the little girl, she was still six years younger than he was; why would that have changed? The little girl grew to 11 years old.

One day, when the man in silver was about to leave for the night, Malicci told him, “I am no longer in need of your services. I… I am going to make Papa proud of me.”

The man turned around and asked, “How do you plan to do that, Lord Belroth?”

Malicci smiled. “I will slay the head of the Brennan family. That will make Papa proud of me and I will have earned my title,” he answered.

“Good luck with that, Lord Belroth,” the man replied before he walked out of the manor’s front door for the last time.

“Smith!” Malicci called. A walking skeleton in a butler’s outfit answered the Belroth’s call. “Get a team to track Montlet Brennan.”

“Already done, sir,” a hollow voice echoed from the undead. Its mouth did not move, but it still spoke. “He has not been in Maldesia for large amounts of time, sir. He is training a group of students, focusing on a specific student of his.”

Malicci turned his head toward the undead. “A student?” he asked. “What is this student like?”

“He is a coward, sir,” the skeleton responded. It did not move one bit as it spoke. Its lifelessness would have scared a normal person, but not a Belroth. “He is a sub-species of angel in his world, closer to a human than a divine soldier.”

The teen nodded. “You are excused,” he said as he walked toward a flight of stairs at the end of the main hall. One led upstairs while a door nearby led downstairs.

He opened the door and walked down the steps past it.

The space underneath the Belroth manor was a dull grey place with many hallways scattered with thick, iron doors every two meters. The ground was dirt and stone while the walls were plain iron.

Malicci finally stopped at one of them. From his pocket, he took out a nondescript key. He placed it inside the lock and turned slowly. Click. He took out the key and opened the door ever so slightly with a slow squeak.

A woman’s voice cried out, “I’m sorry, Lord Belroth! I’m really sorry! I won’t stand in your way again!”

The black-haired teen walked into the room. His blue eyes looked on a woman in tattered rags with his brows downward. It was not an angry look, however.

“You are not sorry enough,” he said. His voice was cold and low as he said those words. The woman huddled in the corner and whimpered when he said them. “Otherwise, you would be willing to scream for me.” He drew closer to her and knelt down. His hand reached for her face and she jerked away. Despite her moving away, he held her chin tight and moved her head so that she would look right into his eyes.

“So, Dia Claro… Are you willing to scream for me?” he asked her.

The woman he called Dia whimpered and closed her eyes. Tears streamed from her eyes as she shook in his hand. Her red-orange hair fell in front of her crying face as she curled up into a ball.

Malicci stood. “I will take that as a no,” he whispered.

The moment he turned around, Dia rushed over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He held her arms tight.

“Nice try, but I am not carrying my dagger,” he told her.

She stammered, “I… I was not looking for a weapon…” She moved her hands into his pants. He jumped and backed into a nearby wall.

“Yeah, um, you can go, I forgive you, goodbye,” Malicci uttered, his eyes wide. “Go on, go home now,” he urged when she did not leave. “The door is wide open.”

Dia gawked. “What?”

The teen tried to mend his words. “It is not that you are not pretty! You are very beautiful, but, um, I do not feel right doing that… with you… Really, go home. I insist.” He did not need to tell her again. She bolted out of the room as fast as her legs would allow.

Malicci sighed and sat down. He looked up at the ceiling and said, “I apologize, Papa. I know you want this… I know… But I couldn’t… I couldn’t do that… I will try again, Papa. You will be proud of me. I promise.”

Steps echo against hard stone in the light wind in an even beat; One-two, one-two, one-two... stop. The first invading thought echoes in the mind, a mild disturbance to the lonely soul. The guidance of another speaks loud to the soul, telling it the patterns it needs to follow. It follows the pattern, but the thoughts continue to invade. Erratic, irrational, "What am I doing here? Why do I follow this path?" Nagging, pulling, several forces tug the soul their way, but still the soul keeps on its pattern. The soul retreats into itself, ignoring the loud nagging, until it can take no more. The soul cries out for all of it to stop, asserting its pattern and accepting no other.

The loneliness seeps back in and the invading thoughts return, only to mirror themselves as the soul cries out again. The soul sees the truth in these thoughts; the pattern is disrupted. The guidance of another is gone; the soul is the guide!

The guide to whom?

The soul stops where it stands... None are left but the wind... Yet, even the wind will fade. The soul cannot deny this truth.