Dear Diary
February 3rd 2009 01:12
For each day during the month of February, I will write a diary entry of at least 1, 000 words from the point of view of Astarael, the Goddess of Death in the world of Jihad. These will be posted on my blog, one each day. This is yesterday's, today's will go up later tonight.
Dear Diary,
Life has been very interesting for the last five decades, and now the war is drawing to a close; soon, I sense, we must face our nemesis on the battlefield. I have not seen him since we fought last, since before the war. It makes me wonder. How has this war changed him? Has it changed him? I know it has changed us, myself and the other deities of Appollinia.
I fear that I will not be strong enough to perform the ritual. I do not know why I was selected to be a part of this. Why this is my duty. The others know that I may become weak; they seem to want me to kill the God I once married. I know that I am the Goddess of death. I know that I am powerful, I know that I am more powerful than most of the others.
But I am afraid of myself. I am not afraid of him, merely of my weakness towards him. The feelings for him that don't seem to disappear. It frustrates me, to be so afraid. But I am. Loki helped me before; me and Dracon both. He helped us send our troops to war. His kind words, his presence, have been wonderful for me.
But when we stand up there, together, how can he help me? We must perform the ritual to destroy him before he can properly react. The time is coming. Perhaps another decade of this war is left, but our countries are drained. Those who do not fight flock to the capitols. They are weak, they are ill, they are hungry.
And they need this war to be over. More so than we do; we in Phoenix drink and eat well, with no sign of poverty. But though we suffer to see them in so much pain, there is little we can do to directly influence the people of Appollinia, to truly influence their lives.
I wish that I could do more for them, but as the Goddess of Death-and the one who truly opened the doors to the one that is destroying their lives-I have no real power to help them. I cannot save them; I can only take their souls and give them rest. Though I can help with those on the battlefield, those suffering in the cities and the towns, and even the villages, I can do nothing for them.
Perhaps in a dream in some far off place I will be able to help them. But that is only a dream within a dream. And so I must watch them suffer.
The demons of my past haunt me, and show me the truth. They show me how I led our people down this road. And they tell me that if I could do anything for the people, they would not accept my help; they would be wary of it. They would not have faith in it. They would not trust me.
My people have lost their faith in me, and that brings tears to my eyes. It breaks my heart just to know that I brought them to this. I brought him into the lives of my people. And now he is destroying those lives.
The Drakor, they suffer; they fight at the front lines, ever side by side with the Elves. So close, those two races are; as though they were sisters. In a way, perhaps they are. They fight now together, suffering together. The races mourn their losses together, honour their victories together. No two kingdoms have ever been so close.
The Drakor behind the front lines are suffering, but not as much as the people of Appollinia. They are holding on, ever strong in their faith. Perhaps it is that faith which keeps them going-I cannot know for sure. But it keeps them strong, and they are still working, still farming, still trying to prepare themselves for any sneak attacks. Still surviving. Famine has come in Appollinia, and the Drakor can send them nothing, having only enough to keep themselves free of it.
The winter this last year was the harshest I have seen since long before the war. Indeed, since many centuries ago. Many people died, both in and out of the war zone. The winter was long, and now they are struggling for food. They could not save enough; too much goes to the soldiers who still struggle to keep our borders safe.
But I feel that soon the tides will change. Soon we will be victorious. We must be victorious, for not to be means total annihilation. They want to kill each and every Elf, each and every Drakor; they want to enslave the humans of Appollinia. They are going to try everything in their power, and they must not be allowed to succeed.
Today I had a meeting with the other Gods; they have the same sense that I do. This sense that it will all soon come to a close. I am grateful that we are in agreement about something for the first time in quite a while. This war is making even us at odds with one another. More fights have broke out in the council in the last decade than in the entire century before this.
Loki wasn't there. I am almost certain that he fought today; the crazy man went to the border and picked a fight with our enemies. I suppose it makes sense, for he cannot be defeated in battle. But at the same time, it makes me wonder. If the Gods fight to help the men, and yet we do not win, what is the power of the force we fight against?
For there are not just humans upon their side, though at first we thought there was all that he would possibly have.
There are demons; demons that are more dangerous than any I have created over the years, for I do not want destruction upon that level. These demons keep going; they are excellent fighters, trained like many of our Elves. They cannot speak, and thus their blades endlessly pierce Rasie's Truth Armor, though if they could speak it would not. Only if they are sliced into pieces do they stop getting up.
These demons are frustrating, yes, but they are not all too common. But there is one demon above all demons, and perhaps he can speak, though none have heard him.
He is The Black Knight, a being who rides a horse much like a Shadowmare of Loki's. He wields a scythe, and legend says that he also has a black blade, a sword with an evil poison in it, though we have not yet seen this blade.
The blade cuts through anything, flesh, blood, bone, armor; even Bannonite armor, the strongest in all existance. And the people are scared, very scared of this legend. This demon, which is said to have fought on the battlefield and destroyed entire regiments by himself.
And I have watched him. Oh how I have watched him; as he sliced through the soldiers on the battlefield. None who have seen his eyes up close have survived; he will chase them if he must, killing anyone who stands in his way.
He is a terrible monster, who kills without thinking, who kills without showing remorse or even the slightest care in the world. I do not know what to think of him, or where he came from; for his power, his aura, matches that of Loki in strength. But it is not the same as ours, the Essence of Those Who Are, which even our enemy bears.
What could this new enemy be? Is there a rival of equal strength, something that can challenge Those Who Are? The thought makes me shiver.
And with that I must get some rest, for tomorrow will be just as exhausting a day as this.
~Astarael
Dear Diary,
Life has been very interesting for the last five decades, and now the war is drawing to a close; soon, I sense, we must face our nemesis on the battlefield. I have not seen him since we fought last, since before the war. It makes me wonder. How has this war changed him? Has it changed him? I know it has changed us, myself and the other deities of Appollinia.
I fear that I will not be strong enough to perform the ritual. I do not know why I was selected to be a part of this. Why this is my duty. The others know that I may become weak; they seem to want me to kill the God I once married. I know that I am the Goddess of death. I know that I am powerful, I know that I am more powerful than most of the others.
But I am afraid of myself. I am not afraid of him, merely of my weakness towards him. The feelings for him that don't seem to disappear. It frustrates me, to be so afraid. But I am. Loki helped me before; me and Dracon both. He helped us send our troops to war. His kind words, his presence, have been wonderful for me.
But when we stand up there, together, how can he help me? We must perform the ritual to destroy him before he can properly react. The time is coming. Perhaps another decade of this war is left, but our countries are drained. Those who do not fight flock to the capitols. They are weak, they are ill, they are hungry.
And they need this war to be over. More so than we do; we in Phoenix drink and eat well, with no sign of poverty. But though we suffer to see them in so much pain, there is little we can do to directly influence the people of Appollinia, to truly influence their lives.
I wish that I could do more for them, but as the Goddess of Death-and the one who truly opened the doors to the one that is destroying their lives-I have no real power to help them. I cannot save them; I can only take their souls and give them rest. Though I can help with those on the battlefield, those suffering in the cities and the towns, and even the villages, I can do nothing for them.
Perhaps in a dream in some far off place I will be able to help them. But that is only a dream within a dream. And so I must watch them suffer.
The demons of my past haunt me, and show me the truth. They show me how I led our people down this road. And they tell me that if I could do anything for the people, they would not accept my help; they would be wary of it. They would not have faith in it. They would not trust me.
My people have lost their faith in me, and that brings tears to my eyes. It breaks my heart just to know that I brought them to this. I brought him into the lives of my people. And now he is destroying those lives.
The Drakor, they suffer; they fight at the front lines, ever side by side with the Elves. So close, those two races are; as though they were sisters. In a way, perhaps they are. They fight now together, suffering together. The races mourn their losses together, honour their victories together. No two kingdoms have ever been so close.
The Drakor behind the front lines are suffering, but not as much as the people of Appollinia. They are holding on, ever strong in their faith. Perhaps it is that faith which keeps them going-I cannot know for sure. But it keeps them strong, and they are still working, still farming, still trying to prepare themselves for any sneak attacks. Still surviving. Famine has come in Appollinia, and the Drakor can send them nothing, having only enough to keep themselves free of it.
The winter this last year was the harshest I have seen since long before the war. Indeed, since many centuries ago. Many people died, both in and out of the war zone. The winter was long, and now they are struggling for food. They could not save enough; too much goes to the soldiers who still struggle to keep our borders safe.
But I feel that soon the tides will change. Soon we will be victorious. We must be victorious, for not to be means total annihilation. They want to kill each and every Elf, each and every Drakor; they want to enslave the humans of Appollinia. They are going to try everything in their power, and they must not be allowed to succeed.
Today I had a meeting with the other Gods; they have the same sense that I do. This sense that it will all soon come to a close. I am grateful that we are in agreement about something for the first time in quite a while. This war is making even us at odds with one another. More fights have broke out in the council in the last decade than in the entire century before this.
Loki wasn't there. I am almost certain that he fought today; the crazy man went to the border and picked a fight with our enemies. I suppose it makes sense, for he cannot be defeated in battle. But at the same time, it makes me wonder. If the Gods fight to help the men, and yet we do not win, what is the power of the force we fight against?
For there are not just humans upon their side, though at first we thought there was all that he would possibly have.
There are demons; demons that are more dangerous than any I have created over the years, for I do not want destruction upon that level. These demons keep going; they are excellent fighters, trained like many of our Elves. They cannot speak, and thus their blades endlessly pierce Rasie's Truth Armor, though if they could speak it would not. Only if they are sliced into pieces do they stop getting up.
These demons are frustrating, yes, but they are not all too common. But there is one demon above all demons, and perhaps he can speak, though none have heard him.
He is The Black Knight, a being who rides a horse much like a Shadowmare of Loki's. He wields a scythe, and legend says that he also has a black blade, a sword with an evil poison in it, though we have not yet seen this blade.
The blade cuts through anything, flesh, blood, bone, armor; even Bannonite armor, the strongest in all existance. And the people are scared, very scared of this legend. This demon, which is said to have fought on the battlefield and destroyed entire regiments by himself.
And I have watched him. Oh how I have watched him; as he sliced through the soldiers on the battlefield. None who have seen his eyes up close have survived; he will chase them if he must, killing anyone who stands in his way.
He is a terrible monster, who kills without thinking, who kills without showing remorse or even the slightest care in the world. I do not know what to think of him, or where he came from; for his power, his aura, matches that of Loki in strength. But it is not the same as ours, the Essence of Those Who Are, which even our enemy bears.
What could this new enemy be? Is there a rival of equal strength, something that can challenge Those Who Are? The thought makes me shiver.
And with that I must get some rest, for tomorrow will be just as exhausting a day as this.
~Astarael
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