Chronicles of the War Surgeon
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Chronicles of the War Surgeon
par Rycen Lun 25 Sep - 20:31
*Pour votre joie et bonheur, ce texte est ecrit pour qu"il sois traduisible par google translate. Vous pouvez donc apprecier les chroniques dans la langue de votre choix. Je vais ecrire au cours de l'anner ou je ne pourrais probablement pas etre present, dans le but de garder un peu de Arkadia dans mon coeur. Aussi, le but de ce texte est de partager un style de vie. Bonne lecture!*
Dear journal. I am now on my way to the imperial camp. Nervosity seem to be my only companion on this journey. I have heard that I would be trained first before reaching the front. Formed to what, they would not tell me until I get there. I tried to sleep earlier but I had strange dreams, fragments of a life that is not my own. I don't know how long this trip will be, but I just left today and I am already eager to go back home.
Others are with me, they look miserable, broken, sad and lonely. I tried to talk to one of them, but he had as much conversational skill as a kettle. From what I could understand, they were conscript with the imperial infantry, peasant torn from their familly, leaving wifes and children alone to fight a war that is not really theirs. They are scared of dying, they are scared of never going back home, they are scared of what will happen if their son become old enough to be conscripted themselves before the war is over. I am not afraid of those things, my fear is far worse. What I fear while going there, is to loose myself. I fear I might become something I don't want to be.
I don't know how long I will be there, but I hope it will be short.
Dear journal. I am now on my way to the imperial camp. Nervosity seem to be my only companion on this journey. I have heard that I would be trained first before reaching the front. Formed to what, they would not tell me until I get there. I tried to sleep earlier but I had strange dreams, fragments of a life that is not my own. I don't know how long this trip will be, but I just left today and I am already eager to go back home.
Others are with me, they look miserable, broken, sad and lonely. I tried to talk to one of them, but he had as much conversational skill as a kettle. From what I could understand, they were conscript with the imperial infantry, peasant torn from their familly, leaving wifes and children alone to fight a war that is not really theirs. They are scared of dying, they are scared of never going back home, they are scared of what will happen if their son become old enough to be conscripted themselves before the war is over. I am not afraid of those things, my fear is far worse. What I fear while going there, is to loose myself. I fear I might become something I don't want to be.
I don't know how long I will be there, but I hope it will be short.
Rycen- Messages : 18
Re: Chronicles of the War Surgeon
par Rycen Dim 1 Oct - 19:48
I arrived two days ago and I already want to leave. I don't think this place is for me... The others that travelled with me were placed in platoons according to their talents. I joined the 5th Imperial Logistic Regiment, along with other priest and healers. Our barrack is in the middle of the camp, which could definitely be worse.
On day one, they took my things, said they would be stored until I am done here. I tried to tell them that I needed my tools to work, but the only thing I got was a very unpleasant, one way conversation with the sergeant.
The concept of comfort seem to never have reached this place, I can feel the wind through the walls and beds are really just bags of hay on a flimsy frame. The room I sleep in has about 20 other persons in it, privacy is apparantely another foreign concept.
On day two, things were not looking any brighter. The sun was not even visible yet when they came to wake us up. After 3 laps around the camp, we had 10 minutes to eat. I have to look at the bright side of things, the heavy infantry platoon is having it much harder than us, they did the same thing as us but in their armor. I talked to one of them that has been in this camp for a month now, they live in those armor. One of their new recruits fell down during the run. I remember him from our travel here, he is only a farmer, can't be more than 18 years old. I tried to help him, but they wouldn't let me. His instructor was yelling at him to get up but the poor boy was already exhausted. I don't know what happened to him, but I have been told not to worry, apparantely the weaks don't last long here...
The rest of the day was interesting, we learned how great the empire was and how dying in the name of the emperor was the most glorious thing someone could possibly desire. They also mentionned that only death await traitors and deserters.
Will I end up like them? I hope I will die first...
On day one, they took my things, said they would be stored until I am done here. I tried to tell them that I needed my tools to work, but the only thing I got was a very unpleasant, one way conversation with the sergeant.
The concept of comfort seem to never have reached this place, I can feel the wind through the walls and beds are really just bags of hay on a flimsy frame. The room I sleep in has about 20 other persons in it, privacy is apparantely another foreign concept.
On day two, things were not looking any brighter. The sun was not even visible yet when they came to wake us up. After 3 laps around the camp, we had 10 minutes to eat. I have to look at the bright side of things, the heavy infantry platoon is having it much harder than us, they did the same thing as us but in their armor. I talked to one of them that has been in this camp for a month now, they live in those armor. One of their new recruits fell down during the run. I remember him from our travel here, he is only a farmer, can't be more than 18 years old. I tried to help him, but they wouldn't let me. His instructor was yelling at him to get up but the poor boy was already exhausted. I don't know what happened to him, but I have been told not to worry, apparantely the weaks don't last long here...
The rest of the day was interesting, we learned how great the empire was and how dying in the name of the emperor was the most glorious thing someone could possibly desire. They also mentionned that only death await traitors and deserters.
Will I end up like them? I hope I will die first...
Rycen- Messages : 18
Re: Chronicles of the War Surgeon
par Rycen Lun 16 Oct - 20:47
Has it really been two weeks? Time doesn't seem to have a lot of meaning in this place. I am not sure how long this will last, or how long I will last. It is like they are trying to break us, mentally, emotionnaly and physically, like they are trying to reshape us into something they want, caring not for who we are.
The physical exercise are harsh, and now the cold of the coming winter is making things worse. Some are sick, we are all exhausted, no one is enjoying their time here. Is it a game they are playing? If it is, there doesn't seem to have any rules beside the one they choose, something that is true one day is false the next, and they call us naive for believing them. Why are they doing this? What is it supposed to acheive? "Why", that's a word they hate... I learned to stop asking why on the first week when the whole platoon went on a forced march for a day because I asked why. I did not make friends that day... But then, is that what they wanted? Did they wanted me to feel guilty by involving everybody else because I was too stupid to keep quiet? Or is it that they felt the others should have kept me quiet? I don't know anymore, I am too exhausted to think.
I have not been sleeping well lately either, those weird dreams are haunting my nights again. They are vivid nightmares of torture, but I am not me in my dream. Who am I then? Why do I still feel the burning iron on my skin in the morning, why does the screams somehow sound familiar, like a memory long forgotten? The first part of the dream is always the same though, two people, a men and a women, killed violently before the eyes of their childrens. A cry for help pierce the night but I can't make out what they say, nor can I see who scream.
Is it this place that does this to me? I am not sure of anything anymore and I feel like it will not get better in the near future. It is hard to keep going but what other choice do I have? Like the others, I have people that I care about. Last week they had a chat with us, individually. One by one we went and one by one we got out of there feeling less in control. The content changes but the speech remained the same; we have people we care about and they know it, and they threatened every single one of us of taking those thing, and make them theirs. Guenievre, Thomas, Serge, they know of them. If I am not going to comply, one of them might. But I won't allow it, and for that I keep walking, I keep fighting. But I am so tired... Will they break me?
The physical exercise are harsh, and now the cold of the coming winter is making things worse. Some are sick, we are all exhausted, no one is enjoying their time here. Is it a game they are playing? If it is, there doesn't seem to have any rules beside the one they choose, something that is true one day is false the next, and they call us naive for believing them. Why are they doing this? What is it supposed to acheive? "Why", that's a word they hate... I learned to stop asking why on the first week when the whole platoon went on a forced march for a day because I asked why. I did not make friends that day... But then, is that what they wanted? Did they wanted me to feel guilty by involving everybody else because I was too stupid to keep quiet? Or is it that they felt the others should have kept me quiet? I don't know anymore, I am too exhausted to think.
I have not been sleeping well lately either, those weird dreams are haunting my nights again. They are vivid nightmares of torture, but I am not me in my dream. Who am I then? Why do I still feel the burning iron on my skin in the morning, why does the screams somehow sound familiar, like a memory long forgotten? The first part of the dream is always the same though, two people, a men and a women, killed violently before the eyes of their childrens. A cry for help pierce the night but I can't make out what they say, nor can I see who scream.
Is it this place that does this to me? I am not sure of anything anymore and I feel like it will not get better in the near future. It is hard to keep going but what other choice do I have? Like the others, I have people that I care about. Last week they had a chat with us, individually. One by one we went and one by one we got out of there feeling less in control. The content changes but the speech remained the same; we have people we care about and they know it, and they threatened every single one of us of taking those thing, and make them theirs. Guenievre, Thomas, Serge, they know of them. If I am not going to comply, one of them might. But I won't allow it, and for that I keep walking, I keep fighting. But I am so tired... Will they break me?
Rycen- Messages : 18
Re: Chronicles of the War Surgeon
par Rycen Mar 19 Déc - 22:06
How long has it been since I wrote? I can't remember... I look at the dates in this journal and they now make no sense even to me. I haven't written in far too long, and been in this hell for what now seem an eternity. Much happened since last time, where to begin?
I guess a good first is that I am now officialy an imperial soldier. My formation was finished and I left battle school. I don't know why I haven't took the time to write, maybe it was because the war already catched up to us... To go back maybe a month ago from now, we were already down to 30 candidate out of 54, things were not going very well. Our instructors were probably clinically insane, but my diagnosis has no bearing over the events that occured. It was simply grueling. Sometimes we were inspected, then they would disturb everything and would give us 20 minutes to prepare for another inspection. Of course our stuff could not be better then what it was! And they knew it, but they would yell at us and punish us nonetheless. Remember when i said war catched up to us? Well it was the last day, during the graduation parade.
It was another cold, miserable day, surrounded by mud, dirt and snow. The same landscape that witnessed our ordeal as a class, was now the background of a day that should have been the only happy day for us in this place. We were proud that day, proud that we accomplished something that we all thought impossible, proud of surviving this ordeal, as a team, as a familly... The bond that we created during our moment of suffering and misery would likely last a lifetime, and I knew, I knew most of those people would be dead within the next year. I knew we would all be deployed on a front very shortly, me included. But to go back to that day, well the front came to us. We were attacked in the forenoon by an unknown ennemy, unknown to us at least. A quarter of the camp was wiped out, the rest managed to escape. I was leaving this place with the rest of my troop towards the nearest imperial camp and I can still see the flames over the trees, that eerie orange glow through the falling snow. I can still hear the scream of those less fortunate, those who fell to an inglorious death.
The camp was just as comfortable as battle school, I found myself reassured by the similarities. What an odd feeling... We got dispatched to our new unit the morning after, only a few of the other healers came with me. We were a small platoon walking toward Fort Hordrigg, our new home for the foreseeable future. That was two weeks ago.
Now I do what I can to stay alive, and to keep those around me healthy. I don't think it will be enough.
I guess a good first is that I am now officialy an imperial soldier. My formation was finished and I left battle school. I don't know why I haven't took the time to write, maybe it was because the war already catched up to us... To go back maybe a month ago from now, we were already down to 30 candidate out of 54, things were not going very well. Our instructors were probably clinically insane, but my diagnosis has no bearing over the events that occured. It was simply grueling. Sometimes we were inspected, then they would disturb everything and would give us 20 minutes to prepare for another inspection. Of course our stuff could not be better then what it was! And they knew it, but they would yell at us and punish us nonetheless. Remember when i said war catched up to us? Well it was the last day, during the graduation parade.
It was another cold, miserable day, surrounded by mud, dirt and snow. The same landscape that witnessed our ordeal as a class, was now the background of a day that should have been the only happy day for us in this place. We were proud that day, proud that we accomplished something that we all thought impossible, proud of surviving this ordeal, as a team, as a familly... The bond that we created during our moment of suffering and misery would likely last a lifetime, and I knew, I knew most of those people would be dead within the next year. I knew we would all be deployed on a front very shortly, me included. But to go back to that day, well the front came to us. We were attacked in the forenoon by an unknown ennemy, unknown to us at least. A quarter of the camp was wiped out, the rest managed to escape. I was leaving this place with the rest of my troop towards the nearest imperial camp and I can still see the flames over the trees, that eerie orange glow through the falling snow. I can still hear the scream of those less fortunate, those who fell to an inglorious death.
The camp was just as comfortable as battle school, I found myself reassured by the similarities. What an odd feeling... We got dispatched to our new unit the morning after, only a few of the other healers came with me. We were a small platoon walking toward Fort Hordrigg, our new home for the foreseeable future. That was two weeks ago.
Now I do what I can to stay alive, and to keep those around me healthy. I don't think it will be enough.
Rycen- Messages : 18
Re: Chronicles of the War Surgeon
par Rycen Mer 14 Mar - 21:38
It has been a while since i wrote my thought down in this journal, everyday seemed to be the same and an unescapable lassitude overtook my life. The winter month were mostly quiet, the worse we had to fear was some wild beasts looking for an easy meal or thieves trying to steal supplies.
I now established myself as the medical authority of Fort Hordrigg. Our commanding officer, Commander Ortona, was a good man and I was very pleased to be under his command. He was a tough but fair individual with a keen sense of justice. In comparison, his second in command, Lieutenant Kaladar, was an insidious character. I constantly have a bad feeling about him, I couldn't prove it, but he looked like he had a hidden agenda.
My duties were rather simple but it is the only thing that brought me a sense of joy in this monotoneous place. The thieves raid became more and more frequent in the last few week after the few warm day we had. Lots of injuries a very little people to help me, most of the other healers were dispatched somewhere else. Commander Ortona believe there is a small raider outpost nearby and he was planning to take it within a week. I was told a special team would be called in in the coming days for help.
I miss everyone back in Wolfencrow. The few friends I have are the closest thing ever to a familly and being so far away was difficult. The loneliness and boredome are just as bad as physical exhaustion and injuries. Most of the soldiers are left to themselves when they cry at night after seeing their brethren die in their arms in combat. There is nothing I can really do, but I wish everynight for a way to help them. Maybe in another plane of existence they are happy, but I know that in the infinity of realities, some are far more grim than this one... As a matter of fact, I am not alive in a lot of them. It's hard to say if my fate is not worse...
I now established myself as the medical authority of Fort Hordrigg. Our commanding officer, Commander Ortona, was a good man and I was very pleased to be under his command. He was a tough but fair individual with a keen sense of justice. In comparison, his second in command, Lieutenant Kaladar, was an insidious character. I constantly have a bad feeling about him, I couldn't prove it, but he looked like he had a hidden agenda.
My duties were rather simple but it is the only thing that brought me a sense of joy in this monotoneous place. The thieves raid became more and more frequent in the last few week after the few warm day we had. Lots of injuries a very little people to help me, most of the other healers were dispatched somewhere else. Commander Ortona believe there is a small raider outpost nearby and he was planning to take it within a week. I was told a special team would be called in in the coming days for help.
I miss everyone back in Wolfencrow. The few friends I have are the closest thing ever to a familly and being so far away was difficult. The loneliness and boredome are just as bad as physical exhaustion and injuries. Most of the soldiers are left to themselves when they cry at night after seeing their brethren die in their arms in combat. There is nothing I can really do, but I wish everynight for a way to help them. Maybe in another plane of existence they are happy, but I know that in the infinity of realities, some are far more grim than this one... As a matter of fact, I am not alive in a lot of them. It's hard to say if my fate is not worse...
Rycen- Messages : 18
Re: Chronicles of the War Surgeon
par Rycen Dim 18 Mar - 22:59
*Si vous avez pas le gout de lire tout sa, vous pouver utiliser ce site web https://www.naturalreaders.com/online/ Faite juste copier coller le texte en gris, selection la voix british de Peter, mettre la vitesse a 0 et ecouter 
*
I cannot believe it. Of all people they could have requested how can it ended up being him?
Commander Ortona requested the help of the imperial reconnaissance regiment and his called was answered. But the section that was dispatched was no ordinary section. It was the infamous black beret squad. They are authorised to use any means possible to acheive their mission. Torture, mass murder, blackmailing... Nothing was too extreme.
They arrived at Fort Hordrigg like ghosts in the middle of the night. Barely anyone was aware that they got in the fort. Each of them came to see me for a pre mission medical evaluation, but nothing could have ever prepared me for that. I saw him again... It was like looking into a mirror, except perhaps the stone cold look he gave me. Sergeant Alder Stein, black beret squad, imperial reconnaissance regiment... My twin brother.
I couldn't speak, i couldn't move, i couldn't think. We were seperated a long time ago after we became orphan. He got adopted by an imperial familly and I was adopted by a Rakuzan one. I never saw him since, until today. We were only five years old when it happened but I kept a vivid memory of the event. He broke the silence that was now weighing heavily on the room. After 24 years, he said: Please go on with it, I have other matter to attend to. When I was done, he said we needed to talk more in the coming days, then he left.
That night, the nightmares that has been plaguing me since I left Wolfencrow has left me with no energy. I saw us, me and Alder, but it was through the eyes of another. And there was that women screaming over and over again. My arm rose in the air and with a swift hit, she stopped screaming. I felt her warm blood splashing in my face, i could taste and smell the foul iron of the hemoglobin. I know it wasn't really me, but why did it felt so real? Why did I seem to enjoy it? What is wrong with me?
*I cannot believe it. Of all people they could have requested how can it ended up being him?
Commander Ortona requested the help of the imperial reconnaissance regiment and his called was answered. But the section that was dispatched was no ordinary section. It was the infamous black beret squad. They are authorised to use any means possible to acheive their mission. Torture, mass murder, blackmailing... Nothing was too extreme.
They arrived at Fort Hordrigg like ghosts in the middle of the night. Barely anyone was aware that they got in the fort. Each of them came to see me for a pre mission medical evaluation, but nothing could have ever prepared me for that. I saw him again... It was like looking into a mirror, except perhaps the stone cold look he gave me. Sergeant Alder Stein, black beret squad, imperial reconnaissance regiment... My twin brother.
I couldn't speak, i couldn't move, i couldn't think. We were seperated a long time ago after we became orphan. He got adopted by an imperial familly and I was adopted by a Rakuzan one. I never saw him since, until today. We were only five years old when it happened but I kept a vivid memory of the event. He broke the silence that was now weighing heavily on the room. After 24 years, he said: Please go on with it, I have other matter to attend to. When I was done, he said we needed to talk more in the coming days, then he left.
That night, the nightmares that has been plaguing me since I left Wolfencrow has left me with no energy. I saw us, me and Alder, but it was through the eyes of another. And there was that women screaming over and over again. My arm rose in the air and with a swift hit, she stopped screaming. I felt her warm blood splashing in my face, i could taste and smell the foul iron of the hemoglobin. I know it wasn't really me, but why did it felt so real? Why did I seem to enjoy it? What is wrong with me?
Rycen- Messages : 18
Re: Chronicles of the War Surgeon
par Rycen Mar 10 Avr - 22:41
I have seen hell. This raid, how can such horror be allowed to exist? We left last week for the raiders camp. It was supposed to be swift and with very little casualty on either side. The plan was simple but efficient; setting fire to a storage of hay to force them out in the middle of the night. Then we were supposed to round them up and capture all of them. Commander Ortona often said that no plan survive first contact with the ennemy, but this was not even close to what we had in mind.
The Black Beret squad went ahead to scout and stayed there until the main force arrived. When we got there, the fire was already burning and the casualty count was way beyond expectation. Childrens, women, elderlies... No one was spared by the flames. The entire camp was burning. They attacked us as soon as we were in sight and a bloodbath of unspeakable proportion ensued.
I was tending to the wounded on both side but nothing could ever have prepared me for this. A little boy, no older than 12, saw me treat his mother, but he didn't understood what I was doing. He tought I killed her. His tiny hands firmly clasped around a short sword that looked still to big for him and ran toward me with blind rage. I tried to tell him that I was helping his mother, that she would be fine, but he kept coming. That is when I noticed his eyes, injected with blood and with constricted pupils. Drugs. He couldn't hear me, the drug in his body wouldn't allow it. As I looked around, the only persons fighting were under the influence of that drug, and they would fight to death.
I raised my dagger, the one I reluctantly accepted from Alder and tried to look as threatening as I could. He kept going, until he got to me. The short sword was still too heavy for him and he couldn't swing it, but he tried, and ended up impaling himself on my dagger. I was horrified, I couldn't say a word, I couldn't move and I couldn't do anything but watch his frail, undernourrished body twitch on that blade like he was still trying to claw my face off. Then he stopped. He was dead, and I killed him. Once I woke up from the horror, I tried everything I could to save the boy but it was too late. Soon after, my brother arrived at my position, I was crying over the corpse of the unknown child like he was my own. He looked at me, told me to stand up like a man, and to keep doing my job.
The rest of the raid was just as bloody. Of all the 130 people in that camp, only 23 survived.
I killed. I killed a child. How can I live with myself? How am I supposed to to live with the fact I KILLED A CHILD!!! Even now I still mourn the child and cry. I am the monster I have feared to become.
The Black Beret squad went ahead to scout and stayed there until the main force arrived. When we got there, the fire was already burning and the casualty count was way beyond expectation. Childrens, women, elderlies... No one was spared by the flames. The entire camp was burning. They attacked us as soon as we were in sight and a bloodbath of unspeakable proportion ensued.
I was tending to the wounded on both side but nothing could ever have prepared me for this. A little boy, no older than 12, saw me treat his mother, but he didn't understood what I was doing. He tought I killed her. His tiny hands firmly clasped around a short sword that looked still to big for him and ran toward me with blind rage. I tried to tell him that I was helping his mother, that she would be fine, but he kept coming. That is when I noticed his eyes, injected with blood and with constricted pupils. Drugs. He couldn't hear me, the drug in his body wouldn't allow it. As I looked around, the only persons fighting were under the influence of that drug, and they would fight to death.
I raised my dagger, the one I reluctantly accepted from Alder and tried to look as threatening as I could. He kept going, until he got to me. The short sword was still too heavy for him and he couldn't swing it, but he tried, and ended up impaling himself on my dagger. I was horrified, I couldn't say a word, I couldn't move and I couldn't do anything but watch his frail, undernourrished body twitch on that blade like he was still trying to claw my face off. Then he stopped. He was dead, and I killed him. Once I woke up from the horror, I tried everything I could to save the boy but it was too late. Soon after, my brother arrived at my position, I was crying over the corpse of the unknown child like he was my own. He looked at me, told me to stand up like a man, and to keep doing my job.
The rest of the raid was just as bloody. Of all the 130 people in that camp, only 23 survived.
I killed. I killed a child. How can I live with myself? How am I supposed to to live with the fact I KILLED A CHILD!!! Even now I still mourn the child and cry. I am the monster I have feared to become.
Rycen- Messages : 18
Re: Chronicles of the War Surgeon
par Rycen Dim 10 Juin - 10:25
It has been a while since I wrote anything down in this journal, again. I wrote a letter to Guenieve, I am not sure if she received it or not, I have not received any response. I will try again shortly.
Summer is still very shy here, some days are still cold but sometimes the weather is on our side. The bandits have been more active and the new drug they are using, the Dragonswrath, seem to be spreading everywhere. Incident now appears in the surrounding village. I don't know who keep producing and distributing it but it has to stop. I hope this thing hasn't made it's way to Wolfencrow. I actually managed to run some tests on it, a few samples got brought to me after a bandit hideout raid. It is a fairly simple drug that mimic the natural fighting response of the brain. But it also inhibit most other cognitive function, which result in that blind rage. I did manage however to find a use for it. When used in a very small quantity on someone unconcious, the patient seem to come back to a decent level of conciousness. More tests are required however before making use of it on the battlefield.
The kid I had to kill a month or so ago still haunt my dreams and my memory. Some nights, I see with eerie accuracy what he could have become, should he still be alive. Some of his future were bright and filled with glory, but some other were dark and unbearable to watch. Sometimes I even feel like I might have made him a favour, but who knows what future he would have got in this reality?
My brother is still living in Fort Hordrigg but we barely talk. His personality somehow disgust me. But I am not sure if it's the traits we share or the one we don't that revolte me the most. Some day I see him come back from missions, covered in blood, but he doesn't even have a scratch. Lieutenant Kaladar seem to have taken a great interest in the Black Beret Squad. More than ever before, I feel like he is up to something terrible. Commander Ortona doesn't seem to realise it, but he has other things to think about. His health is slowly becoming a concern of mine. How can you be vomiting blood once in a while and not think anything of it?
I have asked for some leave to go back to Wolfencrow but it got denied. Apparentely Fort Hordrigg is too far to let me go even for a few day. "What if something would happen here?" is more or less the excuse I got given for the multiple requests I sent. Maybe I should just go anyway, leave it all behind. I was forced into something I hate, killed a child, met with my long lost brother which happen to be a bloodthirsty asshole. Wolfencrow was a lot of nonsense; Lich necromancer, dimensional portal, undeads, plagues... But it was my nonsense. I miss it.
Summer is still very shy here, some days are still cold but sometimes the weather is on our side. The bandits have been more active and the new drug they are using, the Dragonswrath, seem to be spreading everywhere. Incident now appears in the surrounding village. I don't know who keep producing and distributing it but it has to stop. I hope this thing hasn't made it's way to Wolfencrow. I actually managed to run some tests on it, a few samples got brought to me after a bandit hideout raid. It is a fairly simple drug that mimic the natural fighting response of the brain. But it also inhibit most other cognitive function, which result in that blind rage. I did manage however to find a use for it. When used in a very small quantity on someone unconcious, the patient seem to come back to a decent level of conciousness. More tests are required however before making use of it on the battlefield.
The kid I had to kill a month or so ago still haunt my dreams and my memory. Some nights, I see with eerie accuracy what he could have become, should he still be alive. Some of his future were bright and filled with glory, but some other were dark and unbearable to watch. Sometimes I even feel like I might have made him a favour, but who knows what future he would have got in this reality?
My brother is still living in Fort Hordrigg but we barely talk. His personality somehow disgust me. But I am not sure if it's the traits we share or the one we don't that revolte me the most. Some day I see him come back from missions, covered in blood, but he doesn't even have a scratch. Lieutenant Kaladar seem to have taken a great interest in the Black Beret Squad. More than ever before, I feel like he is up to something terrible. Commander Ortona doesn't seem to realise it, but he has other things to think about. His health is slowly becoming a concern of mine. How can you be vomiting blood once in a while and not think anything of it?
I have asked for some leave to go back to Wolfencrow but it got denied. Apparentely Fort Hordrigg is too far to let me go even for a few day. "What if something would happen here?" is more or less the excuse I got given for the multiple requests I sent. Maybe I should just go anyway, leave it all behind. I was forced into something I hate, killed a child, met with my long lost brother which happen to be a bloodthirsty asshole. Wolfencrow was a lot of nonsense; Lich necromancer, dimensional portal, undeads, plagues... But it was my nonsense. I miss it.
Rycen- Messages : 18
Re: Chronicles of the War Surgeon
par Rycen Mer 29 Aoû - 21:32
I think I lost my journal. But with this page I am starting anew and I hope this time I won't loose it again, who knows, I might find it again. I think war is coming. I heard something about black orcs, I am unsure if they will ever come through here. I really hope not.
The summer has been an interesting one so far for me, not all bad I must say. The distribution of the illegal battle drug known as Dragonswrath has slowed down a bit. Many raid has been conducted by the Black Beret Squad but very few prisoner were made. I would rather not think about the fate of those who stood in their path. I prefer to believe that I don't have a brother rather than having this monster as a relative. But there was one moment that brighten my life in those dark time; a birth. The woman came as a refugee, heavily pregnant at about 37 weeks. I knew the baby would come out very shortly. Commander Ortona accepted my request to keep the woman here until she gave birth. It was an uncomplicated birth and on the 18th of August 118 at the crack of dawn, a little girl was born. She was a small baby, about 4 and a half pound, but she was crying vigorously. I think I cried a little that morning. But that was the only good thing so far.
I heard some news of Wolfencrow, something about spiders. I am not sure what that was about but I can only hope that Guenievre, Thomas and Serge are ok. I am not even sure they will recognise me... I still wear my regular clothes, but now I seldomly go around without some kind of leather armor and a dagger. It is an odd feeling, I never really worn any kind of armor before but I got used to it. Casting a spell was very awkward at first but I got quite good at it.
I am now sure that Lieutenant Kaladar is a traitor. He started to leave the fort in the middle of the night and was only coming back much later. Whatever his activities may be, there is now some physical symptoms that are appearant, bloodshot eye, dry mouth, pale skin and sometimes his hands are shaking uncontrollably. He said it was the lack of sleep and the stress of combat but I know better. Unfortunately he is in the chain of command and an officer. I cannot bring up anything until I have a concrete proof of wrongdoing. But I have seen those symptoms before, it look like withdrawal symptoms from Dragonswrath. Gods have mercy on his soul.
Perhaps the dead are the lucky one, they are the only one who seen the end of war and conflict.
The summer has been an interesting one so far for me, not all bad I must say. The distribution of the illegal battle drug known as Dragonswrath has slowed down a bit. Many raid has been conducted by the Black Beret Squad but very few prisoner were made. I would rather not think about the fate of those who stood in their path. I prefer to believe that I don't have a brother rather than having this monster as a relative. But there was one moment that brighten my life in those dark time; a birth. The woman came as a refugee, heavily pregnant at about 37 weeks. I knew the baby would come out very shortly. Commander Ortona accepted my request to keep the woman here until she gave birth. It was an uncomplicated birth and on the 18th of August 118 at the crack of dawn, a little girl was born. She was a small baby, about 4 and a half pound, but she was crying vigorously. I think I cried a little that morning. But that was the only good thing so far.
I heard some news of Wolfencrow, something about spiders. I am not sure what that was about but I can only hope that Guenievre, Thomas and Serge are ok. I am not even sure they will recognise me... I still wear my regular clothes, but now I seldomly go around without some kind of leather armor and a dagger. It is an odd feeling, I never really worn any kind of armor before but I got used to it. Casting a spell was very awkward at first but I got quite good at it.
I am now sure that Lieutenant Kaladar is a traitor. He started to leave the fort in the middle of the night and was only coming back much later. Whatever his activities may be, there is now some physical symptoms that are appearant, bloodshot eye, dry mouth, pale skin and sometimes his hands are shaking uncontrollably. He said it was the lack of sleep and the stress of combat but I know better. Unfortunately he is in the chain of command and an officer. I cannot bring up anything until I have a concrete proof of wrongdoing. But I have seen those symptoms before, it look like withdrawal symptoms from Dragonswrath. Gods have mercy on his soul.
Perhaps the dead are the lucky one, they are the only one who seen the end of war and conflict.
Rycen- Messages : 18
Re: Chronicles of the War Surgeon
par Rycen Dim 11 Nov - 23:11
It has been a year now since I have been put into this mess. I am unsure how I am still alive when so many have died in the last year. I wouldn't even consider myself lucky.
Today there was a ceremony to honor our fallen comrades. It is hard for someone who hasn't been exposed to the horror of war to understand the significance of this event, but it brought tears to my eyes. All of the soldiers who died, trying to create and maintain an ephemerous peace, I am left wondering if it wasn't all in vain, if all the effort that those who fell have been wasted. My brother was also there, oddly enough he was stern and quiet, as if the loss of life burdened him as much as it did to me. He seemed oddly human contrary to his cold calculating self.
The rest of the day was grim, as fall is slowly becoming winter. There was some snow on the ground and the cold wind was biting me as we stood in front of the makeshift monument we erected for the ceremony. We held a minute of unreal silence, as if for this one minute, everyone present felt the same way as all the others, like a quiet understanding of each others pain.
The last few weeks were otherwise dreadful. Last week, I was awoken in the middle of the night by one of the other healer, her father didn't feel well. The wind was stronger that night than any other and only a few torch provided the much needed light I needed for my work. When we arrived he was already comatose. There was no pulse to be felt and I knew what that meant. Without loosing a moment we started working, as his daughter watched powerless. We worked tirelessly for almost an hour, pushing our effort well beyond what was reasonable. Twenty six minutes past midnight, he was declared dead and our effort stopped. She cryed for the rest of the night and our effort to console her were all in vain. He just died, just like that. His dead eyes fixating a distant point in the night sky, half closed, might haunt me forever. We took solace in the fact we did everything we could and beyond.
I don't know how long can keep doing this. The death and misery is gnawing at my soul like a thousand hungry vermins. Each familly torn apart, each mutilated corpse, each injury that leave a man deformed and lame. But today we prayed to the dead, so that they know we have not forgotten them and it makes me wonder, if anyone will pray for me.
Today there was a ceremony to honor our fallen comrades. It is hard for someone who hasn't been exposed to the horror of war to understand the significance of this event, but it brought tears to my eyes. All of the soldiers who died, trying to create and maintain an ephemerous peace, I am left wondering if it wasn't all in vain, if all the effort that those who fell have been wasted. My brother was also there, oddly enough he was stern and quiet, as if the loss of life burdened him as much as it did to me. He seemed oddly human contrary to his cold calculating self.
The rest of the day was grim, as fall is slowly becoming winter. There was some snow on the ground and the cold wind was biting me as we stood in front of the makeshift monument we erected for the ceremony. We held a minute of unreal silence, as if for this one minute, everyone present felt the same way as all the others, like a quiet understanding of each others pain.
The last few weeks were otherwise dreadful. Last week, I was awoken in the middle of the night by one of the other healer, her father didn't feel well. The wind was stronger that night than any other and only a few torch provided the much needed light I needed for my work. When we arrived he was already comatose. There was no pulse to be felt and I knew what that meant. Without loosing a moment we started working, as his daughter watched powerless. We worked tirelessly for almost an hour, pushing our effort well beyond what was reasonable. Twenty six minutes past midnight, he was declared dead and our effort stopped. She cryed for the rest of the night and our effort to console her were all in vain. He just died, just like that. His dead eyes fixating a distant point in the night sky, half closed, might haunt me forever. We took solace in the fact we did everything we could and beyond.
I don't know how long can keep doing this. The death and misery is gnawing at my soul like a thousand hungry vermins. Each familly torn apart, each mutilated corpse, each injury that leave a man deformed and lame. But today we prayed to the dead, so that they know we have not forgotten them and it makes me wonder, if anyone will pray for me.
Rycen- Messages : 18
Re: Chronicles of the War Surgeon
par Rycen Mar 12 Mar - 22:54
Soon, it will all be over soon. I am looking forward to freedom, as I haven't tasted it for quite a while.
The winter was harsh this year, the snow made it difficult to bring food and equipment to the fort. Rationing was in effect and beside a few officer, the meals were light and the nights were cold. While I was able to gather a bit more food for the sick and wounded, Lieutenant Kaladar was eating like a prince. I found myself not hating the man anymore, I pity him instead. Even Commander Ortona was rationning his food, and that snake Kaladar was hoarding all the ressources. No matter, spring will be upon us soon and the snow is finally melting. The famine was unfortunatly not confined to the fort, many village around was also afflicted, and many raider's outpost. We could only do so much to protect the villagers, but we lacked the ressource to help them all. 3 villages were ransacked and destroyed, all the villager murdered in their sleep. I can only hope that they didn't suffered very long.
The battle drug known as Dragon's Wrath is still circulating. Some of the mens report that the raiders give it to childrens and turn them into soldiers, thinking that the imperial won't strike them down. Some soldiers did die that way, victims of their own mercy. Some less scrupulous individual, namely my brother Alder, didn't share the concern for the childrens. I try not to think about it too much, the image of that child who died by my hand still haunt me and will likely never leave me. I find that I have problem interacting with them now. I feel as if I will hurt them accidentaly.
There as been report of a gathering of raiders nearby. An assault will be mounted and executed next week. If luck is on my side, this will be my final mission. I dread to leave the safety of those walls again. The stone foundations are the only thing shielding me from the horrors that only mankind know how to inflict on each other. But once more I will leave. Once more I will walk across the battlefield of nightmare through the field of mangled corpses, like the quiet observer of a bloody harvest. I will hear the screams of the innocents pierce the night and impale my soul, the cries of childrens who witness their parents die. I will, hopefully for the last time, witness the inhumanity of the human beast, killing, bleeding, raping, screaming, dying. I am the vessel of the bloody tears of the nameless victims, victims of a god far more powerful than any deity or demon, a primal force that is unstopable and absolute, who reign over the hearts of weak men. Violence. The ultimate equalizer. May I die by its hand, I can only hope for it to be swift, and that my departing soul will know peace.
Peace... I haven't thought of that word in a while.
The winter was harsh this year, the snow made it difficult to bring food and equipment to the fort. Rationing was in effect and beside a few officer, the meals were light and the nights were cold. While I was able to gather a bit more food for the sick and wounded, Lieutenant Kaladar was eating like a prince. I found myself not hating the man anymore, I pity him instead. Even Commander Ortona was rationning his food, and that snake Kaladar was hoarding all the ressources. No matter, spring will be upon us soon and the snow is finally melting. The famine was unfortunatly not confined to the fort, many village around was also afflicted, and many raider's outpost. We could only do so much to protect the villagers, but we lacked the ressource to help them all. 3 villages were ransacked and destroyed, all the villager murdered in their sleep. I can only hope that they didn't suffered very long.
The battle drug known as Dragon's Wrath is still circulating. Some of the mens report that the raiders give it to childrens and turn them into soldiers, thinking that the imperial won't strike them down. Some soldiers did die that way, victims of their own mercy. Some less scrupulous individual, namely my brother Alder, didn't share the concern for the childrens. I try not to think about it too much, the image of that child who died by my hand still haunt me and will likely never leave me. I find that I have problem interacting with them now. I feel as if I will hurt them accidentaly.
There as been report of a gathering of raiders nearby. An assault will be mounted and executed next week. If luck is on my side, this will be my final mission. I dread to leave the safety of those walls again. The stone foundations are the only thing shielding me from the horrors that only mankind know how to inflict on each other. But once more I will leave. Once more I will walk across the battlefield of nightmare through the field of mangled corpses, like the quiet observer of a bloody harvest. I will hear the screams of the innocents pierce the night and impale my soul, the cries of childrens who witness their parents die. I will, hopefully for the last time, witness the inhumanity of the human beast, killing, bleeding, raping, screaming, dying. I am the vessel of the bloody tears of the nameless victims, victims of a god far more powerful than any deity or demon, a primal force that is unstopable and absolute, who reign over the hearts of weak men. Violence. The ultimate equalizer. May I die by its hand, I can only hope for it to be swift, and that my departing soul will know peace.
Peace... I haven't thought of that word in a while.
Rycen- Messages : 18
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