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[ Back to essays and letters | Back to Insula Maledictus ] JournalOf Bearnard Ex Miscellanea, Insula Maledictus IntroductionThis is my journal. Now that you are holding this book, I am probably already dead. Consider this book a last farewell, my testament and the reason why I am (were?) who I am. I will bypass the time before my gauntlet and apprenticeship; for the memory of those times is sometimes still too hard to bear. I hope I will be able to write it down somewhere, but this is the wrong time and place for such a thing. After the unfortunate events in my home covenant, I travelled far and wide in search of a new home, a safe heaven, a sanctuary. I hoped to find a place to settle down, maybe find a person or two I could call a friend, for sometimes it feels like the world only wants to hurt me and everything I come in contact with. Returning to my homeland, the highlands, I started to hear rumours about a new gathering of witches on the Calf of Man. The stories of them did not make them sound like thieves or murderers, hedge wizards, vitkirs, but hermetic magi. I decided to venture a look at the covenant they had decided to call the Insula Maledictus, the Cursed Island. I arrived early, when the covenant was still accepting new members, namely as grogs. They were peasants fleeing the oppression of the local norse lords. I arrived to their boat and hitched a ride to the island. I don't think I need to mention how the mundanes looked at me, presuming me to be a diabolist, witch or some other freak of nature. Poor things, how little do they know. Insula MaledictusArriving to the island was a relief for the crew and the passengers, since they had a chance to get away from me. It is weird how some of us are blessed with the most wonderful thing, and how in some people it does not bother anyone then there are magi like me, whose Gift is strong enough to be smelled from paces away. Because of this, I was almost immediately approached by people, who clearly were the people I had heard stories about. Their clothes were different from the peasants and their behaviour was familiar to me. These men were clearly members of the Order of Hermes. They addressed me in latin. I was not surprised, for even if I don't wear brightly coloured or decorated robes, carry magical trinkets or expensive jewellery, I wear the mark of a magus in the air around me. After a long discussion at a very old fireplace, they decided to give me a chance in their covenant. I was introduced to the founding members, Tomas, an Irish Verditius magus, Nelly, a faerie-blooded Merinita, and Dughall, a Tytalus magus from the highlands. A Bjornaer magus, Murchadh, belonged to the covenant as well, but he was not present that time. Later I was introduced to him as well. My skills with the elements, especially with the Mother Earth, were widely appreciated. I moulded the rock to be as soft as clay and the grogs constructed buildings with the lead of Perry, a mason seeking refugee from the island. During my stay at the Insula Maledictus, we were attacked by the norse warriors; they wanted to banish us from the island, being the owners of it; the magi had rented the island from the local hersir, but it didn't seem to matter. We were attacked a few times, but since we were not an easy catch, the attacks ended. I too was party to blame for this, since I sunk one of their boats with twenty people on it. The ones that could swim with their armours on were easy targets for our archers. Trouble on the Green IslandAfter a few peaceful weeks, we received a strange visitor. It was a raven, familiar to Dalton Ballaugh, a magus from Lombard, a large covenant in Hibernia. The beast delivered a message from its master, a cry for help. In Ireland there was evil afoot, and strangely enough, they needed help. Actually the message was not meant for us. It was meant for another covenant, older than ours, which had been destroyed earlier by the norsemen. I will write about this adventure later, since its tale would be too long to tell here. We had to travel to the Hibernia, find the holy smith, find the cross that appeared in the sky, have a sword crafted from it, join the legions of the Crom Cruagh, the demon himself, and at last, be the last sight of the bastard in this world. On this journey we stumbled upon a irish warrior, Ewan O'Connor, in the Wiklow Hills. We rescued him from the hands of three Gallowglasses, champion soldiers armed to the teeth, and travelled back to his village. There some of the clansmen agreed to escort us. Ewan later asked for a permission of their leader to accompany us in our travels. Apparently the poor man had no family left there. He was a skillful warrior, hunter and a marksman, a good and virtuous man. At some level we struck a connection, and after that day I have called him my custo. There is a small problem though. Ewan O'Connor has developed a strong liking to the alcoholic beverages, and while he can tolerate excessive amounts of them without being intoxicated, he usually consumes them at the same rate. An unfortunate accident at the town of Port Erin cost the life of Dughall. He was injured in a battle against the renegade magus Rosby and his allies, and passed out from excessive spellcasting. The building we were fighting in suddenly collapsed, and the roof came down on us. Most of us were able to jump aside, but Dughall was in the middle of the house. We tried to cast spontaneous spells to save him from a horrible fate, but it was of no use. I too passed out trying to save him. Back at the covenant during one of our council meetings, someone realized that our High Council was one member short because of the early demise of Dughall. Other members of the council were taken by my skill, and elected me to that honorary position. I was thankful; for the second time in my life, I felt like I had found a place I felt comfortable in, and people I could call my friends. New acquaintancesJust like I at my time, we received a visitor, coming on our boat from the mainland. The man was a lesser noble, with arms and armour, horse and a squire. He addressed himself as Sir Argyle McBrannigan, was disappointed in our covenant, but decided to stay - without asking us. We decided to give the man a chance, altough the chemistry between us was not the best. He was arrogant and presumptive, presuming he had some rights. We continued the building of the covenant, acquired tools and lab equipment, and even had time for some studying. In the Fall of 1171, a new magus arrived at our peer. He was known to Sir Argyle, so we took him in with open arms. Profanus, a young Tytalus magus, had been a friend with Sir Argyle during the time of their apprenticeship in Agnus Coctus. My hand is getting tired and I am growing weary, so I shall continue to write this at an later hour.
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