Disclaimer: The ones you are about to read are commentary by Eryn Michaela Rodocanacchi, a character belonging to the Codex Venator campaign of the city of Livorno. You will find in these pages all the summary of the first season played, so if you are new to the world of Codex Venator, I suggest you to pay attention to any spoilers. If you don't know the world of Codex Venator, we refer you to Official site and to a very small one presentation written long ago.
Codex Venator's Ordo Fabularis thanks Magister Sermonis Alice Gritti for editing the texts.
My name is Eryn Michaela Rodocanacchi and I demonstrate about thirty years of men, but I belong to the noble race of elves and have lived on this earth since before many of my fellow Cacciatori were born.
I remember Livorno, my city, when it was just a tiny cluster of huts, the scent of the sea everywhere ... Then the abominations arrived.
Livorno - Dawn of January 17th
I have never kept a journal.
I have always seen myself as an excessively changeable soul to be able to spread one that possessed a minimum sense, however, after tonight, it will be for the transience of existence, for the danger that has escaped or the Unnamed knows what, even I feel sudden need to pass on those events that I learned about.
I'll be honest. Allowing me to write is the hope that someone, finding these mine, one day will understand how dangerous the lower feelings that move men are. This thought gives me the courage to go into the dark lands that the mind can reach.
At the dawn of a new day, after the night of what was the most difficult battle in which I found myself involved as a Slayer, I still wear the armor and the stench of battle. I do not deny myself that seeing so many of my brothers in arms fall, thinking of the loved ones left inside walls that were believed impassable and instead are not, is something that even the soul of those who were raised for hunting endures with the stoicism that one would expect.
Last night was a long ride in the dark. Perhaps only for the highest will of the One to whom we entrust our souls it has not proved in vain. The harsh reality is that we are powerless in the face of evil ... We owe everything to the salvific arrival of the Chief Inquisitor, who has provided us with time to attempt a last desperate sortie, united before the end as we have not been for weeks.
Livorno is lost, lost in strife and betrayal, drowned in the blood of innocent people and invaded by those monsters that we all fight, yet a small light still remains on, like a beacon placed on the edge of oblivion; as amazed as I am to tell myself, this light is surely faith.
What a ridiculous thing ... rereading my last lines it almost seems to hear Nicodemus' voice utter one of his infinite sermons on Dogma!
I have always found his excessive and foolish blind zeal for a human with intelligence. Even we Elves (who, according to legends, have seen the first sunrise of the world rise) are not able to entrust our survival to something invisible, however it seems the only viable solution. The next one will almost certainly be a mission to martyrdom. None of us were aware of what the Cathedral of the City conceals in its depths and nothing has been communicated to us, as usual, as if we hunters should be barred from knowledge.
Too often I have wondered if we are mere pawns in a bigger game, nothing but meat to send to the slaughterhouse. It is certainly my wary mind to ask so many questions rather than act, but I am a woman of science, not only a fighting animal, and both sides are part of me, whether I want it or not.
The only thing I have the certainty of is that I will not step back by allowing someone else to risk everything for me. I understood it just tonight, in front of that filthy chasm, infiltrated in that sea of senseless humans ready to sacrifice themselves in the name of ... what? How can a being think he is more useful by dying, for the sole purpose of spreading chaos? There is really nothing that binds these people to earth and life, if not their own city, whose good should be placed above the individual good. Only by staying united do we have any hope, but most seem unable to understand it.
Even in the darkness of the tunnels and with the danger at the gates we Hunters are unable to remain united, to do teamwork for good. I have seen Hunters retreat, disappear citing the most disparate reasons and reappear, I tremble at the mere memory, in the form of abomination themselves! How we can save the City and ourselves remains a mystery… Yet we can only continue to go towards death, perhaps redemption, perhaps knowledge.
I'm not afraid, it's hard for me to feel real, I'm just worried about the ineffable and inscrutable that always accompanies the Hunt. Pray for us if you can. The unnamed protect us all.
The inquisitor calls, and with him fate, as long as it exists. There is no more room for words, now the time of the sword is coming.