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Julia Heaslet
Books are items that are found in the world of Deepwoken and are a separate category from loot, tools, weapons, etc. Books can be obtained by looting the various bookshelves around the world or as a guaranteed item sold at a Traveling Merchant Ship. Upon opening a book, player's are given a small sum of Intelligence XP. Besides that, most books have no purpose besides providing additional lore and information regarding Deepwoken's world and history; excluding Intelligence Training Items and Weapon Training Items. Books can also be donated in a Guild Bases' library for future reading. With a select few books, you can read them and gain the ability to perform it's song, without lyrics.
Late into the night, Subject A rose from her slumber and released a deafening screech, waking every living being in the facility easily. The shaking floor somehow stirred even Subject C to an upright position, looking attentively toward the alpha.
Subordinate megalodaunts tend to pay close attention to the alpha of their territory, for reasons we cannot understand. Subject A has expressed the impressive ability to bring a creature as lazy as Subject C to his feet, a feat insurmountable to us, meager scholars.
As it has been a notably long time since Subject C has eaten, he finally began to motion toward his now hours-old dinner; yet, Subject A had seemed to deny this, taking the meal for herself. Astounding, isn't it? Faris wouldn't even believe me if I told him twice!
Last night's meal for Subject C was the last body on-hand; unfortunately, it is winter. Pathfinders tend to be.. shakey, during this time of year. It's more difficult to find gullible, bright-eyed, hopeful ones.
I used this opportunity to gain the best look I possibly could muster at the coarse coral along her back. A beautiful, natural weapon, capable of slaughtering hundreds of pathfinders within mere moments.
The world we live in - the world after the Canticlysm, the Tides, and the Drowning of Celtor, - is a world without harmony and peace, a place of great turmoil and unrest. For some, such as the tide-scattered Celtor, it is a place without a past and a home. The surface is slowly turning into a graveyard of once-great cultures, as the few surviving ones vie for supremacy in a sea-sundered land.
I myself, Mira Sokolof, am a descendant of the Celtor who survived the Great Drowning by fortune of being away from the city during the catastrophe. Despite that, the loss of our heartland - its wholesale disappearance to the Depths below, - left a great wound in our collective psyche, and an astoundingly vast rift in our cultural memory. Our traditions hardly survive after several centuries of diaspora, but they cling on to dear life, thanks to the efforts of individual Celtor. My family tried - and still try - their hardest to keep the Celtorian ways alive, passing old stories and customs down the family line through spoken word and repetition.
And then, of course, there are new cultures still emerging in the long wake after the Tides, forming up in response to the changed ways of the people of the New World. Where there was a lack of rooted national history and shared past, a variety of stand-ins arose - companies, labour unions, and guilds of workers and adventurers alike. Within these non-societal units, unique traditions, hierarchies, and customs take shape. They fight for their place beneath the sun, like any other.
Despite all this, our world remains at strife with itself, and destruction reigns over creation. We have proven, time and time again, that humanity can persevere in the face of incredible adversity, and band together during and after world-ending events. What we have woefully failed to do, however, is preserve the past - the circumstances did not allow us to do this well.
In truth, we do not know for certain what the future holds. Perhaps the world as it is may not exist for very long. Perhaps none are exempt from the fate that befell the city of Celtor, the Great Jewel - but from the shared, traumatic experience of the surviving Celtorian people, rebuilding will be a much easier task if at least a small ember of the past remains burning.
had to pause work due to wristt pain. maybe i should see the folks in the ambulatory wing about this or maybe i just need a break. i've been carving names all day, and the bloody list never ends! old Helsen just dropped like twenty names on me and Svarn, and i'm not even done crossing out names from my last rotebook yet! those divers need to stop dying so fast.
large gaggle of apprentices just pased by and interrupted my work, led on a small tour by one of the new black divers, Isma. if you didn't know any better, with her bright hair and mean scowl, yotrd think she was Klaris' daughter. seeing her makes me miss going to castle light to do maintenance work... having a cushy job as a designated memorial mason isn't so bad either, though.
either way, cheeky gits asked me a bunch of questions before they left for the next stop on their tour. they seemed a little scared of me, like a death omen. i mean... i guess we *do* wear all black, have rugged hands, and come off as rather nonchalant in such a morbid place...
bright-eyed, hapless naive... i'd bet Uriel and Svarn a month's worth of dinner each that at least 3/4ths of the rookies Will have their names on the wall by next year. though, i'm not sure they'd take the bet. Uriel's a cheapskate, and Svarn knows better than that. anyway, back to work
note to self: ask old Helsen to teach the new apprentices how to work new monoliths into shape; we've got only a couple left in storage, and Song knows well fill its sides up with names soon enough. Uriel came back this week; i don't know what he's been doing on his time off, but he smells awful, like really bad and stagnant morning breath. Svarn's away on a depths work summons, apparently castle light had an emergency and needs extra hands for maintenance. and then young Helsen nicked her finger quite badly while working with a chisel, so she's out of commission for a week or so. there go the two people i could have a decent conversation with in this place during lunch, aside from whenever old Helsen graces me with his brief presence, once in a blue moonseye. lousy week!
my my, it's been literal years since i've seen someone retire! didn't think old Surad was going to see the day, heard from old Helsen that the fellow's been getting on in years now. thought he'd have died either on the field, or of old age. figured he wouldn't become a convocant if he lasted this long, though. Svarn's not here today, i'll have to tell him all about it when he's back!
running out of space on the notebook now. Will have to get a new one from young Helsen over at storage before old Helsen dumps more names on Uriel and i. who am i kidding, he Will be dumping them on *me* - Uriel's away somewhere, being useless as usual. which notebook is this? my fourth one this year? i'm losing track...
Before I could even realize it, my unease had vanished and I had to immediately re-evaluate the person before me. This man is here not just because of his obvious combat experience, but his refined ability to move the hearts of others. I can only wonder if this man is really just an Adjudicator and not something more, but I have to shove those to the back of my mind and continue for now.
"Then, more of them started to appear in seemingly random clusters around everyone, I knew something dreadful was about to happen. I knew there were more people in danger. So I had to act, I quickly reached into my bag and pulled out one of the devices I had been working on before raising it into the air and yelling with all my might: 'EVERYONE, OUT!. Instantly the room went quiet, and although it took a few seconds for everyone to register what I was holding in my hand, some of the smarter ones were already running. Afte-"
I instantly forget about all the resignation I had felt just a moment before, that sickly fear from before rising up again. I fall backwards out of the chair before backing up with the palms of my hands, scraping them against the wooden floor. "Gods bellow, not again!" I cry out.
This was never an expedition. This was a setup. Chaser has gone mad. The Kyrsgarde have gone mad. No matter what direction I run, I'm met with the same adversity from those I'm supposed to 'trust', yet it ends in catastrophe. Chaser didn't take us here to find anything, he took us here to feed on us. The Kyrsgarde on the surface are kind, but below... it's all a facade. It's always been a facade. I can't trust anyone anymore, there's nothing in this hell which could absolve me of this fear now. Even as I'm writing this, I feel eyes watching me. I know one thing for certain: today, I will die. Whether it be by the hands of my 'leader', or by the hands of those who take us for fools, or perhaps the beasts resting above me.
This is my last day... alone. Alone in a wasteland, a meaningless death to be forgotten, just another number added to the infinite list of 'missing in action' Divers. Is that what all this means? Did Mother want this? Good for nothing.. rotten son, never made money or did anything for the family, dead in a cave, accomplished nothing, alone. Hopeless and abandoned, even in my final moments. I'm going to be forgotten, just as the countless times before. 'Azel Corbet' never existed.. he never did, never meant anything to anyone.. and alone. Alone! Each time I write the word I feel angrier at myself. I hate this. Maybe this is what I deserved. Maybe if I wasn't a good-for-nothing since birth, since childhood, since adolescence, since adulthood, maybe-
First of Moonveil, Entry #2. Curse Klaris for sending me to this godsforsaken place. This snow sticks like tar and doesn't melt from your warmth... Even knowing this, there was no reason to lose more than a single expedition team. According to the locals one of our own has occupied the tower above. It has to be Chaser.. He volunteered to lead the first expedition team with a fervor that I've never seen from him. If he's the only one left alive from the team, I can only imagine what became of the others. We can no longer trust that man. Should the Forbidden City fall into his hands, it could spell doom for all of us.