Scribbles from The Old Journal

“Scribbles from The Old Journal” is the storyline of Oakerd Arkoden, and his life, which is all laid out in the official stoneworks discord. This page only acts as an archive for the stories

Entry #1
* Scribbles from the old journal pt.1*

** Descent into insanity**

* Oakerd rested on the mighty Aesingar Peak, jotting something down in his journal - an old, torn, and yellowing paper purchased in a Tortugan flea market many years ago. Maybe the only reminder of his humble beginnings.

This man is not who he once had been. No longer a mighty warrior, but instead a brittle old man with the last pieces of his decency and sanity already deteriorating.

All this money, the admiration, the respect that Oakerd had once praised so much, was now too little to satisfy his ever growing needs. Some could say that greed was taking the best of him. And this was the general belief among his fellow townsfolk, who had been in anticipation of Oaken’s, Oakerd’s only son’s, rise to the throne.

No industry in Celtenn was enough to fund the man’s ambitious projects. Right behind him, on the same Aesingar Peak, cranes have been lifting tonnes of stone for weeks now, in preparation for Oakerd’s biggest and most lavish whim - the New Arymond Castle.

So, Celtenn’s leader turned to banditry - something a man in his seventies should have never even though about. Oakerd, however, was not fazed by death.

Not even with a shiny blade, held close up to his throat.

Not even with a bow, aimed to pierce his heart.

Not even with the fate of an entire city at his hands.*

** You can only call this behavior foolish**

Entry #2
* Scribbles from The Old Journal pt.2*

** Ouro’s promise**

* As a new day dawned in Celtenn, Ouro, Oakerd’s companion and trusted friend, was called into the mayor’s place to discuss an issue. Oakerd had begun to fear that Oaken - his son, was becoming too independent and straying away from his home and family. Deep inside, Ouro felt like a burden was lifted off of his chest, as for a second he thought that Oakerd finally had begun to care about something other than his possessions. But that was all swept away, as he realized Oakerd’s true intentions. While on a walk along the street, the man shared his concerns with his trusty friend*:

** Oakerd**  - “*So, as I’ve been saying, Oaken’s distrust concerns me*”

** Ouro**  - “*How so? He is just as you have been in your youth, right? Rebellious teen, with his own thoughts and problems. That Nomad spirit never dies, even after generations*”

** Oakerd**  - “*No, no, I don’t care whatever he does and what his views are, as long as my position isn’t at risk…. and I’ve been feeling like it is for a while now*”

** Ouro**  - “ *Well, now I understand. Listen, bud. No mater what you think Oaken’s intentions are, he is a nice fellow. We’ve known each other since he was a kid. Remember those little ship replicas I’d help him make? Simple times, eh! ”*

** Simple times. Times. Simpler days. Simple times**

* The phrase echoed, through Oakerd’s mind, flooding it with age-old memories. Among them one figure stood out. Dazed and confused, he barely managed to pull himself back from it*.

* The discussion started to drift away into other topics, as both started reminiscing about the past. *

* But, seemingly out of nowhere, Oakerd got scared again. His usual paranoia. Shaking Ouro by the shoulder, and nearly hitting him on a nearby lamppost, Oakerd said the following*:

** Oakerd** - “ *Focus, Ouro! THIS matters. I want you to promise. Promise that you shall stay loyal to me, and only me, and until I perish at the hands of fate, you shall stand by my side. Do you promise?*”

Ouro, sighing, wondering what was going on with Oakerd, lazily said*  **“I promise, Oak”**

Entry #3
* Scribbles from The Old Journal pt.3*

** Simple times**

* Oakerd found it hard sleeping. How could he, after all, let his guard down? He saw shadows out the window, slowly creeping up to him, and then disappearing into the night as fast as they appeared*.

* On the occasions that he seldom did drift away into his dreams, he would find his past retuning to him in rapid flashes. So many memories that he was trying to forget all would effortlessly creep back into his head at this time*.

> A young Oakerd, hastily passing “Tom’s Bar” bumped into Bjorn on the street. The day was busy, the citizens were busy, but Bjorn was particularly busy. He mumbled something to Oakerd, and passed on, towards the gate. From that point on, the young man was never seen by any Celtennenian.

* Bjorn was one of the first great citizens Celtenn had lost. One of the closest advisors to the mayor, he would form a strong friendship with the young Arkoden, who, as a nomad, was making friends almost for the first time. City grew, and the friends grew with i t. Nothing seemed wrong with Bjorn on the day of his disappearance. He left without saying a word, leaving Oakerd in disbelief. The distraught young man will keep to search for Bjorn for long, and even though some evidence came from it, at the time Oak could not obtain any additional information on him*.

* This story is an old one, that Oakerd barely remembers anymore, but in the present, only this has been on his mind*

* We will later return to Bjorn’s story, but for now, you shall be left to speculate for yourself*