Sabina I

The first life I took was my mothers. I did this innocently enough through the perfidious act of being born. Since that fateful day I tread the line between darkness and light, sustaining impeccable balance, but this was not always so.


My father was in the room when I was born and though it may seem strange I’ve always felt that something transpired that day. Something superb and sinister to which I credit my uncanny prowess in the arts of death magic. Of this I spoke only once before to my beloved brother Malach. Ten years my senior he was always something of a confidant and companion when we were growing up - raised at the Hall of our Father on Battle Isles. Malach and I share the same mother. His memories of her are as precious to me as if they were my own, yet I take no solace when I am told how much I resemble her: uncannily too much.

Our memories of our father are disparate even though we grew up in the same household. I think that he exuded characteristics best suited to propel his children to the pinnacle of achievement in our respective disciplines of study. Malach’s strength is in controlling the elements. It is a formidable power that coupled with his grasp of necromancy leaves him a force to be reckoned with. When I think I have forgotten how to smile thoughts of my brother strain unfamiliar muscles of my face. Unwittingly I seek my reflection in the glint of my blade, surprised at the crescent curl of pallid lips that greets me.


Malach and I share the same mother. This sets us apart from our brother Ateuchus whose mind is as nimble as his body and who, born in distant lands, remains eternally ‘set apart’. I often think it is his perpetual displacement that allows him to view the world from without, to think abjectly. It is what renders him a brilliant and ruthless tactician and yet forges a longing to belong that is like a ceaseless hunger gnawing at his soul.





I embrace this hunger. I welcome it for I have seen this man, my brother, command armies and would not wish him for an enemy. So long as Ateuchus thrives in his yearning, so long as I feed his craving I…we…are safe.

Ateuchus I

I am no scholar.

The words I know are those of power over will and flesh... not the arcane twists of ancient tongues but the clear, ringing tones of war cry and command. So expect no masterpiece of literature. I've broken three quills already writing this. When is a feather like a practice maul?

I suppose, as with all things, it is best to start at the beginning. I was raised, and presumably born, along the banks of Elon under the shadow of the Jahia Bluffs. These were harsh lands, unyeilding and severe, where youth was no escape from labor and the freedoms so enjoyed by children in the wealthier provinces just upriver a bitter dream. There are the tasks that strengthen limb and back and there are the trials that test the spirit. To an overgrown boy with pale skin in that sun-darkened place, there was no solace from either. My stature, much as it amuses Malach to no end, served me well then and those that endlessly sought to torment an outsider oft found the prey not so willing. But write no sorrowful songs of broken youth, for this was the forge of fist and rage where respect was hard-won and loyalty bought in bone and blood.

Blood. I suppose the word cannot be mentioned with reference to the father to whom I owe so little and yet, in a way, so much. He was around more than I would have expected from his demeanor. A quiet, distant man of brooding brow. Malach speaks of other faces and in this he is correct, but I remember the face of my father...

Bah. Another quill broken. Perhaps some time in the yard will ease the ache in my fingers. And to think some might actually enjoy this...writing.

I am no scholar.

Malach III

Perhaps I will write a little about family. Gives me a chance to organise my own thoughts too.

First sister Sabina; the apple of my eyes, the marrow of my bones. Of us all, she is by far the most proficient in the arts of Necromancy. That is to say, we all have an innate grasp of the mysteries and spells and can do them well, Sabine, however, has the most intricate knowledge of death itself. She has the amazing capability of actually infusing herself with renewed energy each time some being dies near her. This is something we have not managed to duplicate yet.

Then brother Ateuchus; a mystery of sorts. He, unlike us, doesn't hail from Ascalon - not even partially - but instead from one of the Elonian territories. I do not know which of the three, I'm not even sure he knows so himself. He has proven himself to be a true Scarabae, however, when he wielded one of the Hourglass Staffs without problems. Like all of us he has an innate grasp of Necromantic power too. He merges this very effectively with a warrior's prowess.

And then there is father.

Lokutus Scarabae is the name we've known him under - Loki to some of his older friends who came to visit him when we were young. Some think he always wore a bone mask, but I know it was living bone and it was his true face. But I am not sure if it was his only one though. When I came to Ascalon for the first time, I was amazed at the statues of my father in many places. They called him Grenth there. I was oh so young and thought father was a honoured hero there. Later I learned that these statues were depicting the God of Death. I never had the guts to ask father about this - surely he couldn't actually be him, could he? The Gods had left Tyria many, many years ago, hadn't they?

Even now this musing still raises many more questions than it answers.

Malach II

The Searing. The Burning.

It was brutal, it was savage - it had a terrible beauty in its ruining. Even as ancient centers of learning and arcane knowledge burned and toppled, there was beauty. Still, I would've preferred to observe this from a bit further away. Our father came to visit those of us in Ascalon. And then, during the Razing he vanished. Disappeared or dead, we had no idea which. No spirits we could raise or demons we could summon could enlighten us to what his fate was.

During this time we allowed ourselves to be conscripted into the Ascalonian Vanguard; Prince Rurik's handpicked special agents. There was a lot of rebuilding and defending, revenge and assignments. We were kept very busy for a long time. Perhaps I'll write about them more one day.

After two years of this - and in this time no news, no commands, in short no sign of our father, we had tentatively decided to divide the various tasks and rules our father had between us - a sort of triumvirate until we had something more to go on. Brother Ateuchus assumed control of the troops and our defenses. Sister Sabine concentrated on the family lore and the Necromancers. While I divided my time between the arcane matters and diplomacy with different nations and groups.

During this time we also kept our presence in Ascalon though. Now if someone else is reading this and wondering how we kept going back and forth between Ascalon and the Battle Isles - a journey of many months by boat - so often, I can answer that. We have in our possession the Hourglass Staffs. Family artifacts. While non-family members can access the basic functions of them, like attacking, the higher functions are closed to them. Should they try to use them, they should remember that a family steeped in Necromancy has access to a lot of rather nasty tricks.

What powers do these possess that we know about? Time... First of all they slow our aging down to a crawl, I am 60 but scarce look older than in my twenties. Second they allow us to teleport from anywhere in the world to our Hall, and back again to where we were. This allowed us to be active in two distant lands at the same time.

Now, however, we decided to expand our search for father somewhat. For this reason we founded a new Guild, registered it with the crown in Ascalon and set out. While we appointed a distant cousin (mother's side) to the position of Guild Lord, the true power remains with the three of us. The Guild Lord is needed for keeping our Guild current, registered in all nations and in good standing with the various governments. We, however, can get some work done now.

Malach I

They say there are some things that can not be put down in words - because of subject, secrecy, or even distance. It is held as a truth in many of the lands we know. This, of course, was reason enough for the Family to invest some thought in the matter. What they came up with was the Codex of Ineffable Thoughts. Not truly a unique artifact, but still rather potent in its own right. Sounds familiar? It ought to be - you're reading it now.

Constructed with care, these tomes span time, distance and sometimes even secrets. Once I started writing in one, it bound itself to my soul. This means I can summon the book wherever I am, whatever I do. Whether I walk the burning ruins of Ascalon, the deserts of Elona, proud Cantha or indeed our Hall on the Battle Isles.

Ah, first things first though. Before I'll go on, writing some of our history and my musings, I will write the names of my siblings here too, so they can summon the Codex to read and write in it too. Ink made from crushed jade and my own blood - mixed with some rather special herbs - will serve to bind this book to their souls too.

Sabina Scarabae
Ateuchus Scarabae

There, this be done now.

Maybe a little history is in order here, so we can scan this and perhaps gleam some information from it. I'll leave you two, my siblings, to write your own fragments though.

I was born on the savage Battle Isles deep in the Fragmented Sea, in the Hall of my father - Lokutus Scarabae - some 60 years ago (I'll come to this later). Mother was from Ascalon while father hailed from... other places. Some reports say he founded the Hall himself, while others either claim he conquered it, was presented it or inherited it. From even a young age I have been interested in magic, all kinds of magic. From the Family's preferred power of Necromancy to Fire, Earth Air and Water magic. In my youth I've studied at several of Ascalon's primary Academies of Magic, as well as being tutored in Necromancy back in the Battle Isles. I found myself happy, for a while at least.

Then came the Searing of Ascalon...

I will continue this in a short while, some Grawl decided to attack me, so I cast this Codex back in the Aether...