Aria

Last journal of Jara the Eridian

Erid, the golden city, has fallen to the golam hordes. Through treachery and guile they breached our walls, and have moved house to house, slaughtering all they find within. As far as I know, only those of us who escaped the initial bloodbath and sought shelter at the door of Janu’Kovir yet live.. The sacred shield admitted those of the blood who offered the pious greeting, “Il eliyah El a Istha a mardu samiir, yori e abeywah.” (By the grace of El, Istha and the divines, a friend approaches.) And yet holds the enemy at bay.

3rd day: They have tried and failed to breach the barrier many times. Their blood prevents them from entering this holy place. But we cannot leave. Few of us have arms, and a horde awaits us just beyond the shield. We shall pray to the gods for deliverance, and place our trust in our patience. They will soon give up and leave.

7th day: The sky is gone. The earth has arisen and swallowed the city. A great and terrible magic has been wrought, and the sky is gone, buried beneath and untold amount of earth. Only the strength of our bulwarks and the shield of our faith yet preserve us. The only exit we can see is the through the market to the east. but we have been bottled in, and the enemy have kept it well-guarded.

8th day: Alaha (Blessed is He/Sighted of the Gods) Janu’Kovir has not returned. We fear he is dead. Unless he or another sage of sufficient wisdom returns, we cannot enter his door. It is closed to us. Thus we find ourselves stuck between the swords of our enemy, and the equally unforgiving walls and security of our esteemed friend and savior.

11th day: There are no warriors among us now. Bhata, Sura, and Yudvahn attacked the enemy in the dark of night, for the guard is lightest in the early morning. But the attack failed. The golam, though slaughtered. were able to call for reinforcements, and now Pavana blood cools on the ground in the market entry, the glittering tiles mere stone now. The golam have learned not only to kill us, but also to destroy our works. Their cruelty and malice is without end, and I weep for the world we have left to them.

12th day: We are trapped. The enemy gave up and left. However, first they destroyed the columns preserving the entry to the market against the weight of unknown earth. Buried three of their own in the process. One survived, for a time, and mewled piteously, until the unfortunate wretch suffocated and was overcome. But it appears the enemy has left. All is silent, save for our prayers.

14th day: We have cautiously probed the entrance to our prison. The rubble is not difficult to dig but more stone and dirt ever takes its place as we dig, and more expeditious measures only created another collapse. But we hold on to hope.

21st day: A few days ago, we concluded that there is no hope of digging ourselves out from the way we came. But perhaps if we could pass through the house of Janu’Kovir, we might find another way out. Among our number is Vayati, an apprentice Paeshweaver. He has worked on many projects Mal’achemiir (for the glory of all that is good), and is resourceful. He must find a way to deactivate Alaha Janu’Kovir’s securityworks.

23rd day: Vayati worked with grace and care, but it was not enough. Something went wrong, and he and his 4 assistants could not even escape. Amid their cries of shock, and screams of terror and agony, the door of Janu’Kovir has again closed to us.

47th day: I awoke to screams. It seems Durbhala and Laghu gave into despair. While the rest of us slept, they slit the throats of the younglings under their care, and then turned their knives upon themselves. We are now down to three. I counsel them to not give up, though in truth it seems the gods have forsaken us. Perhaps our prayers are useless. Perhaps without an Alaha’durai (Blessed Sage/Sighted One of the Gods), the gods cannot hear our cries. All we can do is wait,

167th day: Even with just the 3 of us and rationing, supplies are dangerously low. Perhaps because of this Balaka took Laghu’s knife. He did not rise with us this morning. May Ishta take him and keep him, for he was yet young and new to this world. It should not have been his time, but his sacrifice has given us a few more days.

183rd day: Between the two of us, there is only food for a few more days. We are already beginning to starve, I can feel it. There’s nothing for it, we must escape or we will die.

185th day: This shall be my last entry. Rogi and I attempted to dig our way out to the market. We are gaunt now and only needed enough space to crawl, carefully shifting rocks aside, praying that the earth held. We could feel outside air, tantalizing, tempting, just out of reach. But the earth shifted. Rogi cried out in surprise. It was the last thing he did. I think his head was crushed. I almost escaped, hah, escape where? Back into my tomb. Almost. my legs are pinned and crushed. I don’t have the strength to free them. I can feel my blood leaving, sluggish and thick. Soon the cold will overcome me. May Istha take and keep me. My final surprise. I thought my death would be different. I expected to feel angry, terrified, cursing the enemy, cursing those whose failings have brought me low. I expected… …to feel.

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