Art by apoplectic_atom & birdmandean 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 Ralomir The Rising Tide Mage I (08/10/2026) 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 A Steadfast Hold. ـــــــــﮩ٨ـــــــــﮩ٨ــــــــــﮩ٨ــــــــ General Information Primary | Ichor Anima | 8 Patron | The Dreaming One, Khammedol Mentor | Caleb Citranitas-de Marchesí Cantrips Bloodrush (Primary) - “The silver ring of a racing pulse brings no other focus like it.” Self Delusion (Patron) - “I can be brave. Do not feel fear. Reject your cowardice.” Whisper (Precedent) - “Prying ears shan’t know what this ashborn crow will hold.” Hindrances (The world of such magicks is new to him. Who knows what capers and misadventures he’ll run into…) ـــــــــﮩ٨ـــــــــﮩ٨ــــــــــﮩ٨ــــــــ "The pact you choose, the oath you bleed, sows roots as deep as family seed. The water dries, the blood shall spill, whose crimson turns the sovereign mill. The bond of choice, the forge's stain: make raw the pulse, Claim the Vein."  

I wouldn't say it went well, but it hadn't... gone bad, either. Perhaps I should start from the beginning.  After Professor Liatris had so kindly lent me her knowledge and equipment in the practice of alchemical infusions, I had returned to Casa De Marchesi to make my preparations. It was there I met a fellow student of Ser Caleb, who went by the name of Denali. She was very kind, if a little dry in tone, though I suppose that simply added to her charm. It troubled me to have cut our conversation short once my potions had been completed, but I was unsure how much longer the spectre would remain in the woods. Bearing her goodbyes, I left to pursue those rumors.  The darkest guts of the Southern Forest had crowded on all sides as I began my search for Ser Caleb. I followed nothing but the scent of smoke and the smoldering holes left behind, trailed by the sonorous screeching of the cindered-crows. The rumors of the poltergeist were true, just not in the way most people thought.  A camping site, with signs of a fire once-raged. He was there, in the flesh, bloodied and bruised, and the conviction in my heart had wavered. No, not in the face of his weakness, but the fact that he could still have so easily killed me, even in that state. However, I knew there was likely no other way to hold his attention for long enough to answer my questions, so I had. Challenged him to a duel. (The handwriting trembles, far from the neat script it once was.)I would like to have said that my plan was rock-solid. I would like to have said that, at the moment, I had no fear, for I knew Ser Caleb would not kill me. If I say these things, I would be struck down, for the shame of lying laid heavily on my chest. It was no small combination of sheer luck, underhanded tactics, and several alchemical brews that I managed to reach… a sort of understanding with him.  I had asked why he deemed it necessary to leave. He had said it was part of knighthood itself. To protect people, one had to distance themselves from them, lest they are damned alongside. That knights, despite the light they carry, hold the darkness as well, as they march forever onwards.  I had hoped this talk would give me clarity. I had hoped… it would illuminate some questions I had, with my own experiences with knights. I suppose, in a way, it had.  (A few pages seem to be missing. It continues.) On the bright side, I am intimately aware of my over-toxicity symptoms. I shall have to include charcoal on the regular in my first aid kit, just in case… I further pursued rumors of fake sheep with Sodalite and a newcomer to the Spire, which I’ve come to realize I hadn’t asked for their name. A bad habit I must work on, I realize… regardless, the lure had been exactly as described- a trap, for a mutant hunter. We three fought valiantly until the hunter retreated back into the woods, and we decided not to pursue, on account of our injuries. We hurried back to the hospital (I was unaware that Professor Liatris was also employed as a doctor there, though I suppose it makes sense. I did also see she runs a bakery… how does she have the time for all this, I wonder…?) to report what had happened and have our wounds tended to. I suppose my next course of action would be to thank Sodalite for saving our behinds and look for the unnamed warrior to learn of their name. By and large, a rather productive week. I suppose I shan’t ask for more.   

I fear I may be making a mistake. I had been granted the prestigious honor of being Ser Caleb's squire after a terse bout at the Pit. I know- he was taking it easy on me, with his imposed restrictions, but I had passed. The strangest thing did occur after- though I must confess, I was hardly conscious to bear witness to most of it, and what I did, I do not understand.But I digress. After Ser Caleb had returned from the siege, something in him... changed. Like the man had been suppressed, leaving only a weapon in its wake. He had felled both Sir Azuran and Sir Angelo back to back, with nary a break, speaking of- of being cursed, that his fate is out of his control. That he is nothing if not a weapon to be commanded, if only to save his family from his own misfortune.I must confess. I do not understand this sentiment. Is this not the time when your connections are the most important? Is this not the time when they would share in your misery, to bolster you, to fortify your shores as you suffer the slings and arrows of grave misfortune? It is unthinkable.My hands tremble. I am making a mistake. I didn't speak up during the spar. I didn't say a thing when he left. What can I do? What can I do, in the face of a roaring pyre, ready to burn for all he deems true? I am hardly a squire, hardly a person. Would what I do matter, in the end?I will not let the fear rule me. I will grab it by the horns.I will not let the fear rule me. I will grab it by the horns.I will not let the fear rule me. I will grab it by the horns.I must make amends for my cowardice.Tomorrow, I go for the SIA. Professor Liatris, as I've heard, has some expertise in alchemy. After that... I pursue the rumors of a soot-stained poltergeist, haunting the surrounding forest. I know it is him. It must be.Now, the question remains.How do you convince a dangerous man of his worth? How do you form a connection with something so adamant to burn it all down?Perhaps that talk with the fable had more insight than I thought. 

To the Learned People of the Spire: I come to you with a request. I wish to learn the knowledge most desired, of herbs and the effects at their behest. The where to learn, at your command,but you may find me at the Cask.  If Crowns decreed, then I shall pay, on the decided day. Your most Thankful Student, Ralomir   OOC: Looking for alchemists or healers to teach Ralomir about alchemy! Feel free to message me on Discord (@Apollo_13) or ping me in the server if you’re available for this 🥹 thank you!  

Day 5It has been a while since I last wrote, and many things have happened in the interim. I suppose I should not have mentioned the lack of activity in my previous entry, as the Fables seem to have heard me. I've taken to attending some lectures at the SIA, which had mostly revolved around Ichor magic and the mundane knowledge meant to support its use. Why is this magic so shunned back home? It clearly has so many uses in healing and eradicating diseases, which would be very useful on long voyages. Surely it can't be just because it uses a little blood in casting? Isn't any sacrifice worth supporting the whole?I do digress, but I will be attending more lectures, if not to learn more about rudimentary medicine, but to know more about a branch of knowledge left stifled in the Pearl Coast. As I spend more of my time in Spire Town, it becomes increasingly difficult not to sense a pace of urgency about. There are many more soldiers and knights than I am used to. Upon inquiring with the tavern and other available locals, it seems to be because of various skirmishes on the borders of the Southern Reach. I suppose when the Adra Sidhe of this area suddenly disappeared, several groups would have liked to take the land for themselves. I attended one of these battles. Again, far too in over my head. My father would have called it recklessness instead of bravery. But the other, more experienced fighters had been kind to me. Caleb, the commander, is a sort of blind jester-knight-mage. I felt at that moment that I could trust him with my life. Cadayle is a fierce warrior who similarly faces trouble with her sight. Quite a strange but serendipitous coincidence.(Note to self: still need to return the equipment.)I must confess I do not remember much of the battle, other than the thundering of my heartbeat, the rachet-fire of bolts and arrows, and what felt like the rise of a second sun. I think I killed someone. I find myself disturbed that I do not feel much more than that. I had shot down someone's sibling, child, parent. They'll never live to see the stars in the sky, to feel the sea breeze on their face, to laugh and chat with the people they hold most dear. And yet, and yet, I feel nothing but relief that it was them, and not me. It was them, and not anyone in our contingent. The battle suffered minimal casualties. We all headed back to Spire Town. I lay this tale to rest.