Tarvala Sul'Morin Journal Entry 1

The book is simple. Bound in a dark brown leather with the wolf head insignia of house Indoril upon it as well as a simple lock and key latch binding it closed. Tucked away safely among her belongings, often wrapped up in her small clothes in the bottom most drawer.

“Starting over, a new chapter, requires a new book. Hello new book. My name is Tarvala Sul’Morin of House Indoril. Contrary to mother's wishes and self delusion, Sul’Morin is of some import but no where upon the scale she believes. Locally it is known, but few outside Necrom would know of it. There will be time later for mother though.

I’m at the Abbey. Under a Magistrix Sebaya Indoril, who is of the actual house, not a faker and hanger on like so many others… myself included. I’m here as an Ordinator, or will be, for now I’m nothing more than a recruit. It is a far step down after two years at Temple to be a priestess. The Commander and the Archons shout and yell and are very confusing individuals. They get onto me for their failures in leadership not having even informed me what I did was wrong before hand. No orientation, do’s and don’ts… At first this vexed me, greatly… now though, I wonder if that is not the point.

A test of our competence and current level of understanding and the correction itself is the actual teaching and leadership. Ordinators and the clergy are vastly different in their ways after all. The clergy were so focused on structure and etiquette in our devotion to the Three, were as the Ordinators are here to protect and destroy their enemies. There is no place for etiquette and polite words in a sword fight. I have only had this revelation two nights ago after a battle with a necromancer when I lay awake so sore and bruised sleep would not come. I am going to move forward with this thought in my heart and praying to the Three, I felt no nudge that it was otherwise. I will trust in them.

The fight with a necromancer, had me second guessing my choice leave the clergy but… I feel I was useful during the fight that ensued. I was one of the few standing at the end and so many were far more injured than I. I’d never felt anything like it though. The magicka was, twisted, evil to a level I’d never experienced in my life. The zombies, the weak ones, as they got killed empowered the rune. We know this, everyone does except N’wah’s and fools. The necromancer knew we would, and thus let his zombie charges soak for, what had to be days in a river. They fell apart like dandelions under a child's breath. The slightest touch, the barest shove, it was actually a brilliant idea. Evil, but brilliant.

The rune itself grew to such power even the Archons were unable to stand. It felt as though a nest of starved rats were released with in our guts and then those rats were set afire and eaten by some larger daedric demon dog that then started to dig a hole. Even that barely describes what it felt, but I believe you get the idea. In the end though, it exploded. Destroying a windmill and injuring anywhere near it. I was far enough away due to a Anorach I got hit with large pebbles and stones, the blast only knocking me over and ringing my head like a bell.

It was chaos. Everyone survived though, I can only imagine by the will of the Three, how else could so many survive so close to such a blast? Thank their divine grace for that. As much as I want to be promoted in the ranks, that is not the way. I will earn that.

For now though, I must get some rest. Standing at attention during a debate tonight was exhausting, not the standing itself, but rather listening to some of the “arguments” made by many of the people participating. It was entertaining, true, but far more enlightening. You can learn much from listening to others and more so when given a direct topic.

For now though, Mr. Journal, ALMSIVI in every hour.