Journal of Croidhamsa

 

#28 Betrayal

Where are entries 12 through 27? Perhaps I left them at the Lodge after my last visit. -- Croídhamhsa

#11 The Black Dragon

#10 Battle with Shukak

#9 The Swamp

#8 The Lizardfolk

#7 The Ebon Aspect, Part III

#6 My Return The Lodge

#5 The Ebon Aspect, Part II

#4 The Ebon Aspect, Part I

#3 Further Brutality

#2 Descent Into the Mine

#1 The Observatory

 

#28 Betrayal

 

Words can scarcely describe my perspective on the unfortunate series of events that unfolded today. However, I must try.

 

Darl Quethos, the Cleric of Vecna who we defeated at Tilagos, sent a message to Talin using divine magic. He asked us to meet him at noon outside of the inn for further negotiations.

 

The final battle at Tilagos was a brutal one for everyone involved. When Quethos finally fled, we were confident that we had not seen the last of him. However, as usual, we were divided on what course of action to take. Should we hunt him down and finish him off? Or should we first continue with the quest against Kyuss and worry about Quethos later?

 

I had mixed feelings on the issue. On the one hand, I hated to see a man like Quethos get away and wreak havoc in the world, especially since he still possessed that abominable Hand of Vecna. On the other hand, if Kyuss rises and lays waste to the entire world, then the question of Quethos is largely irrelevant.

 

So, we talked. And we quarrelled. And we voted. And we talked and quarrelled some more. Ultimately, it was the sending from Quethos that gave us our only clear resolution. Talin's divinations revealed that Quethos had set no trap for us at this meeting, so we decided to meet with the man and see what he had to say for himself.

 

Quethos met us outside of the inn and lead us through a portal to another plane. For a few moments, we walked through a dark, rocky, windswept landscape -- Pandemonium, a plane of chaos and howling madness. Just a few paces away, however, stood another portal which lead to a remote location back on the prime material plane. Soon, we found ourselves in an open field far to the west of home, alone with Quethos.

 

The negotiation itself was the first debacle. I have no doubt that Quethos sought to weave discord among us with well-chosen words and manipulative arguments. However, given our own mish-mash of eccentricities, he hardly even needed to bother! Bastion seemed to take the situation very lightly, seemingly more concerned with Quethos' fine robes and nefarious artifact-of-a-hand than the actual content of the conversation. Quethos sought to convince us that he had no intention of pursuing us any further now that we were no longer competing for the secrets of Tilagos. He had his own business to attend to, and we had our quest against Kyuss to attend to, for which he urged great haste. In fact, he even offered his aid in the fight against Kyuss! For a moment, I was tempted to ask if we were going to let him join our party -- but I dared not ask aloud, lest anyone actually seize upon the idea.

 

For a moment, it seemed that we might just be willing to go our separate ways. However, given the nature of Quethos' goals and methods, several of us sought some form of assurance that Quethos would not be doing anything too horrible while we were off trying to save the world from the threat of Kyuss. Talin's approach to this was to ask Quethos to send her messages about his activities. She said that we didn't deserve to remain blissfully ignorant of his evil plots, and that she would only walk away if we had some line of information telling us what he was up to. Someone mentioned that his "reports" might contain some bits of information which would make Talin quite unhappy. Quethos, with a slight smirk on that hideous face of his, said that he would have to leave those parts out of the report then, wouldn't he?

 

At this point, all hell broke lose. One moment, we were having a tense and argumentative -- but largely peaceable -- conversation with Quethos. In the next moment, before anyone else could do anything, Fern suddenly rushed Quethos. She leapt behind him, activiated her antimagic device, and ordered him to surrender.

 

For a moment, I think that everyone but Fern was in shock. However, one by one, in rapid succession, we gathered our wits and launched into various conflicting forms of action.

 

Liam, being a man of few words, needed no further explanation. There, right in front of us, was one of the most dangerous men we've ever met, his greatest powers held at bay by an antimagic field. Liam raised his bow and went about his trade, pummeling the man with a barrage of arrows to the chest and shoulders.

 

Arijen also took the offensive. Once he realized what Fern had done, he charged toward Quethos with weapon in hand, only to be tripped by Kendra along the way.

 

Bastion played his lute in order to weave his bardic magic, but otherwise sought to avoid involvement in the conflict.

 

As Fern struggled with Quethos, Arijen struggled with Kendra, and Liam proceeded to shoot Quethos, Filge tried to separate us all for long enough to keep us from fighting with one another. He split the battlefield in two with a wall of force, delaying Liam and Arijen a bit in their eagerness to kill Quethos. Unfortunately, Liam decided to react by shooting at Filge.

 

Thomas, I think, never fully regained his senses until after the battle. He was standing a bit farther back than the rest of us to avoid being too close to Quethos and his magic, so when we started fighting amongst ourselves, he was left one step behind.

 

As soon as I saw what Fern had done, I decided to go in there and attempt to stop her. Truly, I had no love for Quethos -- and mere minutes before, I had even said aloud that I wouldn't be sorry to see him dead. But this was simply madness! However evil Quethos may be, it simply isn't right to attack someone in the middle of a negotiation. And even though she hadn't laid a hand on him, Fern's antimagic field had rendered him largely helpless -- and Liam and Arijen were intent on finishing the job.

 

As I was about to challenge Fern and intercept Arijen, I noticed to my horror that Liam had started shooting Filge. I know I've never been terribly fond of Filge, but we've been travelling together for months now and saved each other's lives along the way. So, I set thoughts of Quethos aside for a moment and stepped to the edge of the wall of force in order to have clear aim at Liam. I shouted at him that if he didn't stop shooting Filge, I'd drop him. To prove the point, I attempted to cast a spell that would slow Liam down and sap his strength to keep on fighting. In an uncommon moment of strong will, however, he resisted my magic almost effortlessly, simply shuddering a bit before looking back in the direction of Quethos and Filge with violence in his eyes. I was just about to follow through on my threat when Filge relented and dismissed the wall of force.

 

By this point, Fern had tackled and pinned Quethos, making it quite difficult for Liam to hit him at range. However, Arijen was shaking loose of Kendra's interference and stepping toward Quethos.

 

The struggle over Quethos was fast and furious. I tried to pull Fern off of him, but she slipped out of my grasp. Fern only meant to keep Quethos pinned, but as Talin approached, she pointed out to Fern that Arijen was about to clobber him. Arijen proceeded to beat Quethos with the flat of his blade, intending to knock him unconscious. Talin tried to drag Quethos to safety, and Arijen proceeded to beat Talin too!

 

In that moment, I would have gladly unleashed whatever destructive magic I had on Arijen. I would have blasted him with fire, and when I ran out of fire, I would have turned him into a toad! To his good fortune, however, he was still standing in Fern's antimagic field. Therefore, in a fit of rage, I descended upon him with my axe. Given his armor and martial prowess, I knew that I had little chance of even distracting him from his quarry. But what else was I to do?

 

As Fern caught up to Talin, the antimagic field swept over Talin, and she started to swoon and stumble. Apparently, her magical protections were the only thing keeping her standing after taking a beating from Arijen, and the presence of the antimagic field suppressed those spells. As Talin stumbled back a step or two, Fern stood defensively over Quethos, who was now lying motionless at our feet -- still breathing, but apparently unconscious.

 

At that point, we knew that the battle had reached a momentary conclusion. Few if any creatures in this world can make their way through Fern's defenses if she doesn't let them. Once she had secured possession of Quethos' prone form, she proceeded to tie him up, and we began our argument over what had just happened and what we should do with Quethos.

 

There was yet another surprise left for us in that battle. But for the moment, I will leave it at that. The day has been long, and though magic has healed the wounds of my body, the wounds of my heart have left me weary still. I must rest a while and prepare for what tomorrow has in store for us.

 

#11 The Black Dragon

 

Sadly, another poor soul had fallen victim to the worms. For a few moments, chaos ensued as a few of us kept a wary eye on the corpse while the others sought to understand what had happened. I do declare that if even one of those worms had come more than a foot away from the body, it would have felt the wrath of my remaining bolts of lightning. Luckily, the worms do not survive for long outside of their host, and none made it more than an inch or two away from the fallen lizardfolk. So, after a bit of investigation, and a bit of wrestling with a nasty underwater vine of entanglement, we found ourselves in the lizardfolk's egg chamber.

 

To our surprise, we were soon greeted by a black dragon!

 

The dragon, it would seem, had been sent to protect a black dragon egg nestled among the eggs of the lizardfolk. Upon discovering our presence, it proceeded to toy with us through witty banter and subtle deception. The more it spoke, the more confused and frightened the party became. Soon, it started turning the details of our personal lives into sarcastic humor. I kept my mouth shut, knowing that little good could come of trying to outsmart such an intelligent and diabolical creature. Magic revealed that it didn't seem to be reading our minds, yet it knew things about us that it had no logical way of knowing.

 

The party discussed several options for responding to this threat, but the dialog was complicated by the fact that the creature was standing right there before us, his silver tongue wagging to no end. The details of this conversation are a bit muddled to me as it was rather convoluted and chaotic, due no doubt to this creature's masterful wit and penchant for mischief. The end result, however, was that we agreed to swim back past the vines of entanglement and meet the creature at the back entrance of the lizardfolk encampment to retrieve the egg.

 

For a moment, I almost believed that the creature intended to cooperate with us. After all, black dragons are said to be power-hungry creatures who would sell their own mothers for the right price. As we emerged from the channel with the vines, however, the creature blasted us from behind with his acid breath, and combat commenced in earnest.

 

One rather unfortunate but practical lesson that I learned from today's combat with the dragon is that one of my favored animal allies, the wolverine, is difficult to keep under control when fighting in close quarters. I summoned two of them to our aid, and for a moment it looked as though they might help to turn the tide in our favor. Alas, one of them misjudged its swat at the tail of the dragon and ended up hitting its sibling in the face with its razor-sharp claws! Had it been any other sort of creature, our wounded ally might have taken the blow in stride and returned its attention to the dragon. Wolverines, however, have a penchant for uncontrollable rage when attacked. The wounded one took an equally harsh swat at its accidental foe, and soon the two creatures were locked in mortal combat, oblivious to the presence of a black dragon a mere foot or two away from them.

 

The sight of their accidental duel would have been almost comical in a more peaceful setting. As it was, however, we were all quite tired from the earlier battles of the day, and the black dragon was all too eager to take advantage of our weakened state and inexperience with such a powerful foe.

 

For a moment, it looked as though at least one or two of us may perish, if not the entire party. Then, Chaim stepped forward and started speaking to the beast, tracing some arcane sigil in the air with his hand as he spoke. To our complete amazement, the beast suddenly started laughing! This was surely one of the most bizarre and absurd sights that I've ever seen -- a black dragon rolling around on its back, caught in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. After staring at the creature in shock for a moment, we resumed our attacks in earnest. Since he was so busy laughing, the creature could scarcely defend himself, and soon suffered several punishing blows.

 

Just as the dragon started to regain his composure, Filge emerged from shadows and cast some sort of necromancer's curse on the beast, rendering it more vulnerable to our attacks. Our melee combatants flew into a frenzy, lashing out at the beast with renewed fervor. For a moment, the creature started to shake loose of the spell's effects, but by then it was too late. The beast was felled, and all of us had lived to tell the tale.

 

I wish I could say that this was the end of it. Unfortunately, we had barely a moment's rest and healing before our lives were once again placed in peril. The black egg began to hatch -- and soon, we discovered that it had been infested with the worms.

 

By this point, our party was perhaps stretched beyond the point of good sense. Chaos ensued as the foul green worms splashed through the air and threatened to turn the whole lot of us, along with all of the lizardfolk eggs, into soulless zombies. Malformed lizardfolk hatchlings came at us, taken by the curse of the worms. We set fire to one of the infected eggs, then actually carried another of the infected -- worms and all! -- and tossed it into the flames. It all happened so quickly that I scarcely knew how to respond. In the end, though, we dispatched the zombie hatchlings and finally had our moment's rest.

 

After the battle, Hishka the Druid aided us in our healing and spoke with us about what had happened to bring the sorrows of Shukak and the worms upon them. A bit of investigation revealed that some of the healing potions had been tampered with, leading to infection by the worms. Soon, we also feasted with the lizardfolk to celebrate the victory and fill our bellies for the coming journey. At last, it was time for an evening of rest and reflection.

 

From what I gather, there were several important heart to heart conversations amongst the members of our party. Perhaps it was the brush with death, or perhaps it was simply the inevitable friction created by people with different perspectives and goals working together so closely for weeks at a time. In any case, it was good to see us talking amongst ourselves rather than simply hacking at unspeakable monsters.

 

I'll have more to say in the morning about a particular conversation related to the worms. In the meantime, however, I must rest. The day has been long, and sleep will come easily...

 

#10 Battle With Shukak

 

Aside from the Ebon Aspect, Shukak may well have been the most imposing foe we had faced thus far. He was built like a mountain, with lean and massive muscles bulging beneath a hide of black scales. Yet the spark in his crystal-clear eyes revealed a glimmer of intelligence that set this man above the status of a mere mindless brute.

 

For a moment, as he laid eyes upon us, it seemed as though he were about to speak. With one look at us, however, he understood the situation immediately. I could detect no trace of fear in him -- not even the faintest hint of surprise as our front line fighters leapt into action. Instead, he set about his task with a cold precision that I suspect we all found quite chilling. His goal, quite simply, was to do maximum damage, both to the hostage Marzena and the new intruders. In the blink of an eye, he stabbed the prone Marzena with his trident while simultaneously biting and clawing at the approaching combatants.

 

As usual, my gut reaction was to rush forward and join in melee combat. When I first met this band of adventurers at Filge's tower, I was far more reserved in battle. I didn't quite know what to make of them, and I was happy to let them take the lead in any combat. But since that terrible day, I've become almost as quick to battle as they are -- not because I'm headstrong, but simply because I've seen how quickly the battle may take a turn for the worse. I can take quite a beating, and I'd much rather feel the sting of some villain's blows than to watch them deliver an equal amount of punishment to one of my companions.

 

So, I often charge headlong into battle. However, this situation called for a more calculated approach. My Druidic studies are advancing to the point where I'm becoming more confident in the power of divine magic to protect me and the people dear to me. I've waited many years for the day when I will no longer have to watch helplessly as the people I love are struck down before my very eyes. There are still many dangers in the world, and I am not strong enough to face them all -- but I have a growing faith that divine magic will grant me the power to aid my companions and serve the cause of good in the world.

 

As the battle began, I called in the power of lightning to aid us. My good friend Insight stayed back from the fight, but tilted his head in curiosity as he noticed flickers of electricity sparking in my hands. Before anyone even noticed what I was doing, I pointed at Shukak and spoke a single word in Druidic. With a brilliant flash, he was struck from above by a bolt of lightning. For a moment, he convulsed slightly, and a bit of steam started to rise from his shoulder where the bolt had struck. Alas, the blast had barely dazed him, and the battle continued.

 

Shukak's two companions were worthy adversaries -- but in the end, it was the man himself who gave us the most trouble. As he seemed on the brink of death, he made one last desperate attempt to slay Marzena, knowing that he would not otherwise survive long enough to do so. However, we managed to heal her a bit and keep her alive long enough for the others to finish off our mighty foe. We all took a bloody beating, but in the end, we all survived, emerging from the battle victorious.

 

After such a taxing battle, we all would have surely liked to take the time to rest and heal. We did, in fact, take a few moments to start healing each other, along with tending to Marzena's broken jaw and hands. But alas, the day was still young, and a good night's rest would have to wait. For just at that moment, a dazed lizardfolk stumbled in our direction -- and as he fell to the ground, we discovered that he was infested with the worms.

 

#9 The Swamp

 

Our adventuring party has proven itself in battle many times over -- and yet, with each new encounter, we come dangerously close to defeat.

 

The journey to the lizardfolk settlement was interrupted briefly when we stumbled upon a group of alligators. As we walked through the swamp, I was the first to see a lone snout protruding from the water in the distance. The creature had not spotted us yet, so I made a quick motion to the party, and we approached the gator slowly, drawing our weapons for battle. Just as we were about to reach it, I was suddenly attacked from behind, snatched up in the jaws of a second gator.

 

What an incredible experience! For a moment, I panicked, suddenly finding myself underwater with piercing pain in my belly and back. My fear, however, was short-lived. I had every confidence that I would soon break free, and I found myself marveling at their cooperative hunting strategies. Could there be more trouble on the way?

 

As if on cue, a large monstrous alligator joined in the flanking effort. Now, animal cunning would be aided by brute strength. Alas, even this would not be enough to spare the skilled hunters from a swift demise at the hands of our party. With a bit of irony in mind, I summoned a few alligators to aid us in the battle, and the rest of the party had the situation under control before my friends could even be of much assistance.

 

After two days of travel through the swamp, we found ourselves at the gates of the lizardfolk encampment. What a sight to behold! I had seen the folk before on several occasions, but never had the good fortune of visiting one of their encampments. Even though there are primitive Druids among them, the standing animosity between lizardfolk and other humanoids of the region has made contact between us difficult. Therefore, I had never seen the fruits of their unique approach to architecture. Rather than living in pure wilderness, or living in a humanoid city, they have adopted a happy medium between the two. Through weaving of mud, root, and vine, they create a living structure that blends quite well with the surroundings. Even with powerful Druidic magic and stout lizardfolk laborers, it must have taken quite some time to accomplish such a feat.

 

With Harry's aid, we found the entrance and waited for a gap between the lizardfolk patrols. Rather than rushing headlong into the usual frontal assault, we sent Chaim and Vincent along under protection of invisibility to investigate the situation. Alas, even our caution was not enough to prevent the outbreak of battle.

 

For a moment, it seemed as though we may need to lay siege to the entire settlement. Chaim and Vincent were caught inside with rescued hostages in tow, and the rest of us charged in to be greeted by numerous armed lizardfolk. Then, in a stroke of genius, the lizardfolk named Hishka used Druidic magic to raise a field of woody spikes that essentially brought the combat to a halt.

 

Hishka explained that the lizardfolk leader, Shukak, was leading the tribe to its doom. We declared a mutual truce, with the understanding that we would head off to the throne room to attack our common enemy Shukak. Without further incident, we made our way to the throne room, and the battle ensued.

 

#8 The Lizardfolk

 

After a few day's rest, it was time for us to continue our investigation of the worms.

 

In the hours before our departure, I was wandering the wild near Diamond Lake with my animal companion, a shocker lizard named Insight who frequently walks at my side. Together, we were on the trail of a local wolverine who I have tracked on many occasions. The chase was a casual one, but my intention was to follow the beast one last time before our journey so that I might better be able to assume its shape in battle. Ever since I witnessed my parents' death as a child, I have always longed to become adept at melee combat. Alas, though I have quite the stout constitution, I fear that my muscles are not strong enough to deliver punishing blows in battle. Therefore, at long last, I have succeeded at the art of shifting into the shape of a wild beast with far more strength and ferocity than my gaunt human frame can deliver.

 

As Insight and I travelled through the woods, we eventually came upon the necromancer's keep. When we approached, I spotted Fern digging in the grass, planting flowers all around the otherwise dreary building. Though I suspect the gesture of goodwill is lost on Filge, I must say that I'm glad to see a bit of good cheer brought to his otherwise dreary accommodations. Perhaps it will aid him in his reformation. I'm still hesitant to trust the man, given his past, but I must admit that he has been a diligent companion, aiding us in difficult times with a few well-placed crossbow bolts or bits of arcane magic.

 

In any case, we all found our way back into each other's company. Upon meeting with us, Allustan asked us to accompany him to a keep in the same direction that our Ebon Triad investigation is leading us. We agreed, and soon we were on the road.

 

The journey itself was uneventful. It had been some time since I had traveled this far, much less in the direction of the swamps, so I found it rewarding to watch the gradual transition from a more temperate woodland setting to the humid air and thickening foliage of the swamp. My companions, of course, took little note of the scenery. But as Insight rode with me on my horse, I pointed out a few of the more unusual species and whispered their names to him in Druidic. He cannot speak himself, but he likes it when I play the tour guide and tell him tales of woodland adventures.

 

As we approached the tower, we were dismayed to spot billows of smoke rising in the distance. I was among the first to notice it, but soon the entire party was discussing this unfortunate turn of events. Within moments, we were rushing across the last few yards to the tower, and the battle was upon us.

 

The tower, we discovered, was under siege by lizardfolk. I had seen lizardfolk before, but not so close, and never in so many numbers. Allustan cast a few defensive spells on us before leaving to warn the garrison of the situation. As usual, the chaos of battle lead us to scatter in several directions. I was surprised for a moment to see Talin flying through the air, apparently with the aid of some magic I had not witnessed. Fern, Chaim, Thomas, and Filge headed off in various directions, and I found myself with Vincent in the presence of numerous lizardfolk.

 

I never cease to be amazed by the combat prowess of Vincent, and a few of the others for that matter. It takes every bit of focus I can muster to swing my scimitar with precision, and every ounce of my strength to do even moderate damage to an opponent. Vincent, on the other hand, can tumble into battle with both weapons swinging, and all manner of monsters fall to the soil before him. It's a bit like watching Fern, though in her case, I find even the most bloody of her chain-twirling dances to be oddly alluring. Dancer of Death indeed!

 

With so many foes upon us, I knew that it was time for a few good allies. I summoned wolverines to aid us, and they fought side by side with Vincent to tear the invaders to pieces. While they kept the closest band at bay, I pushed ahead to see where Chaim and Fern had gone off to.

 

Soon, I saw why they had hurried ahead. Several lizardfolk were on the verge of breaking through the tower's door. I summoned a bear to aid Fern and Chaim in melee combat, but to my surprise, the battle was already turning in our favor. Apparently, the party had done quite well at fending off the attack, and the lizardfolk were starting to retreat. As my bear friend bounded off into the woods after a lizardfolk, I headed into the tower to tend to the wounded.

 

I can't write for much longer because the rest of the party is awakening for today's journey into the swamp. But before I finish this entry, I do want to mention the Druid.

 

Apparently, there was a Druid among the invading lizardfolk. I have no great love of the lizardfolk, due in large part to their cultural tendency to eat the flesh of other humanoids. However, they are natural creatures, not abominations, and thus I find it unfortunate when we must battle them. They are simply creatures of the swamp who have little care for outsiders, and I can empathize with them in this. But I found it especially unfortunate to discover that a Druid lay slain among them.

 

I would have liked to speak with her -- to learn of her understanding of natural magic, and to see if we as fellow Druids could discover any means to seek balance in relations between the lizardfolk and other humanoids. Alas, it was not meant to be. Apparently, Thomas chased her down as she fled, presumably hungering for her valuable magical treasures. I suspect that he could have just as easily requested her surrender, or let her flee into the swamp peaceably, rather than taking her life. However, once the berries that he looted from her body clued me in to the fact that she was indeed a Druid, at least he had the decency to lead me to the body so that I might perform Druidic rites for her. Thomas has a good head on his shoulders; I just hope that his headstrong haste, and his hunger for treasure, don't get the best of him.

 

All in all, I would say that we fared well in battle. There were a few casualties among the local soldiers, but our own party members took well to a single night of rest and healing. Now, as a new day starts, we prepare to push further south into the swamp in search of four human hostages and any answers to our questions about the Ebon Triad. A surrendering lizardfolk who we call Harry has agreed to lead the way, and with any luck, we will reach the hostages before the hour of their ritual sacrifice and consumption.

 

#7 The Ebon Aspect, Part III

 

Allow me to step back in time for a moment to our final battle with the Ebon Aspect.

 

As soon as Thomas spoke his words of defiance in the town square, the very ground trembled beneath our feet. We did not know what exact horror awaited us in those dark depths, but we knew without question that something had risen. As the townspeople scattered in every direction, we looked to each other knowingly and made our way back to the mine.

 

At the mouth of the mine, we found ourselves joined by Allustan, a local wizard who has been of great help to the party, along with a Cleric of Hextor who the party had allowed to surrender back in the mines. For a moment, I felt quite disturbed by the fact that we would be fighting side by side with a Necromancer and a Cleric of Hextor. My trepidation passed, however, when my thoughts turned to the unknown abomination lurking in the tunnels below.

 

We could debate philosophy and theology tomorrow. Today, however, we would stand united against the Ebon Aspect.

 

After sharing some protective magic with us, Allustan hurried off to town to alert them of the situation. As he left, I had the sinking feeling that he would also be making preparations for the town's defense in the event that the whole lot of us were slaughtered by the beast below. Then, with a few quiet words of prayer, I followed the party into the mine.

 

As the elevator descended the last few feet of the shaft, we were surprised to note that the shaft itself now had a gaping hole where the back wall had once stood. Turning to face the elevator's new exit, I beheld a sight that will be with me to the end of my days.

 

The inky pool of blackness before us was surrounded by carnage. Some tremendous force had broken through solid stone as though it were brittle clay pottery. Several of the stone pillars has been fractured or shattered to pieces, strewing rubble about the cavern floor in every direction. The first flight of stairs up to the unholy sacrificial altar had also been damaged, as if battered by a thousand hammers. And there, standing defiantly amidst the carnage, stood the Ebon Aspect.

 

This huge abomination was clearly the bastard child of its unspeakable patron gods. Its hideous face gleamed with a dark aura of hatred and malice that would have made Erythnul proud. When the beast saw us, its six massive arms raised in a mighty display of power, followed by a battle cry that Hextor and Erythnul alike would have celebrated. And to my great disbelief, three of the arms were missing their hands, and the creature's lone right eye glared at us with an unnerving watchfulness, bringing to mind the treachery of Vecna.

 

For a moment, I was filled with a terrible fear, unlike any fear that I have felt since the death of my parents when I was a child. But as I looked into the beast's terrible eye, and as my companions leapt into action all around me, that fear was transformed into a relentless certainty.

 

No matter what it took, this Ebon Aspect would never see the light of day.

 

My first impulse was to simply charge the abomination, heedless of any danger to myself, or my ineptitude with the scimitar. However, I knew that my swift demise on the front lines would help no one, and our group's discussed strategy required me to hang back a bit for the sake of healing and support. So, as the battle commenced, I reluctantly held back and did what I could from the rear.

 

Even after several good battles alongside these people, I still found myself amazed by their valor and prowess in combat. It all happened so quickly that I can scarcely even recount the details! Fern leapt into the fray like the Dancer of Death that she is, with her spiked chain twirling to deliver punishing blows to the beast. Thomas enlarged himself and Fern using a magic wand and proceeded to challenge the creature in his own right. Talin, Chaim, the Hextor Cleric, and even Filge all circled around the beast to unleash their various attacks. And for a moment, even in the face of this monster, I felt renewed hope.

 

Then, we felt the wrath of the Ebon Aspect.

 

By some miracle of its unholy making, the beast seemed capable of absorbing massive damage while suffering little or no harm from it. Clean cuts that slashed deeply into the beast healed before our eyes, even before the blade had fully left the flesh. Without warning, the creature howled and went into a rage, its muscles swelling to absurd proportions. A magical flail appeared in midair, smacking at our poor front line combatants without mercy.

 

After several punishing blows, the Ebon Aspect was clearly wounded. But our valiant fighters were themselves at death's door -- and soon, they started to fall.

 

When I saw Hextor's Cleric fall to the ground, I felt tempted for a moment to ignore him and focus my healing efforts on the less nefarious companions. But seeing him prone at the feet of this unholy terror, I felt overwhelming compassion for the man, especially in light of his unparalleled valor in facing the beast. With a heavy sigh, I took a few steps toward the Ebon Aspect, making my way to the fallen Cleric. Thankfully, Talin reached him in time to bandage his otherwise mortal wounds.

 

At that moment, dear Fern was stepping behind me, and the Ebon Aspect was looming before me. A mere glance in Fern's direction was enough to tell me that she was near death, and the sight of her falling back from the creature only confirmed my worst fears. All of our front line fighters were at death's door -- and in a moment of bitter irony, it was my turn to stand between the Ebon Aspect and the heroes who had already saved my life on several occassions.

 

As I looked into the Ebon Aspect's lone eye, I knew that this may very well be my last moment in this life. The beast had already wounded me -- and if I were to feel the full brunt of its next attacks, I would surely be slain. However, I knew that the creature had to be stopped, and I knew that I would not let it advance upon Fern without putting up what meager resistance I had available.

 

So, although it must have been an absurd sight to behold, I fell into the most defiant stance I could muster, thrust my shield toward the beast, and pulled back my scimitar threateningly. As the beast took a step towards us, I spoke a single word of prayer. There is no good translation for this word -- but essentially, it means "I belong to Nature now," and it is often the last word of Druids who believe that their current incarnation is about to end.

 

Thankfully, the beast did not slay me! Before it had the opportunity, the creature was distracted by an attack from behind, and the party rallied for a final assault. As it turned to lash out at them in anger, I ran about to several of the others, binding their wounds with a renewed bundle of bandages tossed to me by Talin. Finally, under the weight of one last punishing blow, the creature collapsed. Even while unconscious, the beast's unholy magical weapon approached us, as if to strike another blow. Within moments, however, one of the fighters stepped forward to deliver a killing blow.

 

At last, the Ebon Aspect was dead.

 

After a moment's pause to stare at the fallen corpse, Talin and I set about the task of healing our companions with what little tools we had left. Before the beast's body was even cold, however, a debate ensued regarding what to do with its remains. Most of us agreed that we had to destroy them in some manner to ensure that the Ebon Aspect would not rise again. Filge, on the other hand, asked us in a meek, almost innocent voice if he might be allowed to keep the body.

 

What nerve! What madness! On the one hand, I must admit that I've almost grown fond of the man, in spite of his nefarious profession. He always seems to step into action right when we need him, aiding the party with a well-placed crossbow bolt or much-needed spell. But on the other hand, the mere thought of raising that beast from the dead was sheer madness! It chills me to the bone to think of an ordinary human being turned into a zombie. But for this beast, which is already an abomination, to be raised from the dead by his dark magic? I could scarcely even wrap my battle-weary mind around the macabre image of an undead Ebon Aspect shambling about at Filge's command!

 

Normally, where group decisions are concerned, I seek to be a diplomat, offering counsel through lengthy discussion of the pros and cons of any course of action. But in that moment, I felt no need for words. I approached the corpse of the abomination and simply proceeded to hack at its neck, seeking to severe the head from the body.

 

Oh, what an absurd sight it must have been! Filge, the party, and I spent what seemed like an eternity debating the merits of keeping versus disposing of the corpse. All the while, I continued to hack at the throat, endeavoring to use my meager strength to sever the head clean of the body. Even in death, the beast's flesh resisted my blows, which were none too powerful to begin with. And so, a macabre comedy unfolded, with the party engaging in abstract debate about the body's fate while I hacked feebly at the corpse's throat. In the end, however, my stubborn determination won out, and the head fell away just as the party came to the profoundly obvious conclusion that raising the Ebon Aspect from the dead might not be the best of ideas!

 

With the battle behind us, some of my lingering doubts about most of these people flooded back into painful awareness. However, underlying it all, I felt a depth of respect and cameraderie that I had never felt before. My past experiences with people of the towns and cities -- including the loss of my parents at such an early age -- had left me with a profound suspicion of all people who did not openly follow the Old Faith or other paths of reverence for Nature. But now, I see that these adventurers -- in spite of our quite serious differences -- are fast becoming my companions and friends.

 

When I entered that battle, it was sheerly for the sake of fighting a cultist abomination. And throughout the battle, I felt a fierce devotion to the cause of stopping this thing from reaching the light of day. But somewhere, in the heat of battle, I also felt something more -- a sense of devotion to my companions, and a sense that I would likely lay down my life for them in battle, even without the presence of this abomination before us.

 

My devotion to my own beliefs, and to the cause of Nature, is deeper now than it ever has been before. Above all else, I am a Druid, come to serve the Old Faith with my every breath. And I have no doubt that my continued investigation of the worms will at times lead me to be at odds once again with my new companions. But perhaps as my faith has deepened, I am also finding a deepening strength, and a deepening ability to understand and respect those who are different in their beliefs. We are all living creatures, after all. We are all children of Oerth, all equally deserving of the fruits of Nature. And it would seem that, to my great surprise, I've found a group of adventurers who have awakened a sense of kinship in me that goes beyond our common quest.

 

With that said, I must set aside my journal. Currently, I'm sitting under a tree near Allustan's, and it seems that while I was writing, someone has stepped in to speak with him. With any luck, the party is gathering, and our investigation of the worms and the cults will soon continue.

 

#6 My Return to the Lodge

 

The meeting at Bronzewood Lodge was not at all what I expected. Truth be told, I had expected a quiet discussion with my mentor, and perhaps a few of the other Druids of our Region. Instead, I stumbled into what may have been the largest gathering at the Lodge that I have ever seen!

 

Ever since I was brought here as a child, I have witnessed a number of large gatherings, either on the High Holidays or in rare moments of crisis. At all of these gatherings, I have either listened intently or dutifully performed my role in the ritual at hand. On this day, however, I found myself to be the center of attention, surrounded by no less than eleven other Druids, numerous Clerics, several Rangers, and many of the other friends of the Old Faith who call this Lodge home.

 

In a moment of great irony, it became clear to me that after years of willful seclusion, I had become the Lodge's connection with the happenings of the outer society!

 

My mentor, who had gathered the crowd on short notice, had already explained the details of my departure to investigate the worms. When I arrived, he stopped in mid-sentence and yielded the center of the circle to me, asking for the latest news in my investigation. For a moment, the sight of the crowd left me too stunned to speak! But after gathering my thoughts, I began to recount the tale.

 

Most of what I shared was similar to the reports contained in this journal. I did, however, avoid delving too deeply into the role of the necromancer in our adventures, and the tragedy with Sorin. Such thought-provoking topics would have surely derailed us from the essential matter of the cults in the mine.

 

When the telling was done, I must confess that I felt a bit embarrassed at the minor role I'd played in the whole affair. Melee combat was never my strength, and I had done little more than trail behind these bold adventurers with my healing kit and mild doses natural magic. My fellow Druids, however, seemed quite impressed, and thanked me heartily for the service.

 

After a bit of discussion, it was clear that the discussion of the cult and its deeper implications would last for hours. One of the visiting Druids suggested that I should meet up with the adventurers to discuss our own next steps in investigating these worms and the cult that spawned them. I was tempted to stay, but nodded in agreement.

 

With the meeting fresh in my mind, I headed back into town only moments ago, searching for my adventuring companions. It would seem, however, that they are still scattered and unavailable, recovering from the battle and making preparations for our next adventure together. For the first time since the start of our travels, I find myself feeling a twinge of disappointment at the thought that I won't be seeing my newfound companions today. However, it may be for the best, as I still have yet to write down the details of our final battle with the Ebon Aspect.

 

#5 The Ebon Aspect, Part II

 

Now that I've had a good night's rest among the trees, my body is rested, my mind is clear, and my heart is filled with joy. However, the battles of yesterday are still fresh in my mind, and the road ahead is filled with peril, so I must pause another moment to write before continuing my journey.

 

With the three cults defeated, we rushed into town to share the news and see what had become of the miners. After several days of battle in the mine, we must have been a terrible site to behold! However, we had important information to share, so we pressed onward.

 

The villagers were gathered in the town square, stirred into a fervor by the day's controversy. The crowd was filled with competing banter, but it became clear rather quickly that word of the cults had reached town, and the people had formed a haphazard mob to respond to the situation. The Mayor and the guards seemed incapable of calming the crowd, and a local Cleric was stirring the mob into a frenzy, calling for answers about the presence of such dark forces in our mines.

 

At this point, our party once again became scattered. Talin departed briefly to ensure that her family was still safe amidst the madness of the day. Filge slipped quietly into the background, seeking shelter in a nearby building to avoid the mob entirely. Thomas and Fern started discussing ways to get the crowd's attention. As for me, I was torn between all of the options, but decided that the most important task of the moment was to get the crowd's attention, lest the unruly mob act in a dangerous or uninformed manner.

 

The question, then, was simple. How do a handful of novice adventurers grab the attention of a mob filled with panicked villagers? I don't know whether it was a result of our extended time in the mine, or our own innate imbalances, but I do believe that the three of us were stricken by some form of feverish madness! Fern and Thomas scurried up the side of the nearest tall building, muttering something about thunder and giants, while I contemplated using my magic to summon some peculiar creature sheerly for the sake of startling the crowd.

 

Before I could take any action, a loud thunderclap exploded above the crowd. A young woman's shout echoed through the air, and we all turned to see Fern standing at the top of the building, her arm outstretched dramatically in the pose of a grand orator. For a moment, she had the attention of the entire crowd. But as she paused to collect her thoughts, a quizzical expression spread across her face. Someone near me muttered something under their breath, and the crowd returned to their bickering.

 

At this point, I knew that something had to be done. I decided that rather than summoning a strange creature, it would be best to summon an eagle. It could swoop over the crowd dramatically, then land on my outstretched hand, capturing the crowd's attention. Before I could cast my spell, however, I noticed the wizard Thomas next to me, setting about a magic of his own.

 

In the blink of an eye, Thomas grew to twice his original height! This time, his sheer size offered him the crowd's undivided attention. He ordered the mayor and the rabble-rousing Cleric to be quiet, then proceeded to talk to the crowd about the cults. He told the crowd that there had indeed been a cult presence, but that we had dispatched the cultists. He pulled out the holy symbols of Erythnul, Hextor, and Vecna, proceeding to shatter them in his hands, one by one. Even at the time, I knew that this course of action was rather arrogant, especially considering his melodramatic statement that we had killed these gods. However, I was also struck by his boldness and creativity in choosing to defy the evil gods in public with such a dramatic flair. I still have my worries about the man, but in that moment, and the moments that followed, I felt a newfound respect for him.

 

Alas, the sheer audacity of Thomas' actions were nearly our undoing. As soon as the words crossed his lips, Vecna apparently took the life of his own cult leader, triggering the early rise of an abomination known as the Ebon Aspect. As Vecna's holy symbol shattered before our eyes, the very ground shook beneath our feet. All of us in the party looked to each other with apprehension in our eyes, knowing that some horror must have risen from the inky depths in the mine below.

 

At this point, the crowd started to scatter in all directions. The town guard struggled to maintain order, and the various community leaders scattered to their respective strongholds. Those of us in the party scrambled to make a few last minute preparations -- but in the end, we knew that we had no real time to do anything other than rush back to the mine entrance to face whatever abomination may have risen in the dark corridors below.

 

There was a tremendous battle ahead of us -- and in the end, that battle would almost be the death of us all.

 

I have more to write about this final battle, and about my newfound understanding of the party and our shared mission. However, the time has come for me to share all of this progress with my fellow Druids. I have a feeling that my companions will soon be luring me away on the next leg of our adventure -- and before departing, I must be sure to bring the Lodge up to date on the situation so that they can offer me their advice and take any actions of their own.

 

#4 The Ebon Aspect, Part I

 

Now that I have a moment to pause and reflect, it seems rather odd to me -- and indeed, somewhat frightening -- that a haphazard band of novice adventurers may be the only ones who can save the world from the coming of a dark apocalypse. However, that seems to be the case, and we seem to be those adventurers.

 

When I wrote last, we had just emerged victorious from our combat with the followers of Hextor, and the half-orc Sorin had just slain the surrendering leader of the cult. The incident, and our responses to it, had left me with a mix of glimmering hope and renewed concern. Clearly, this lot still has much to learn -- myself included. Yet just as clearly, most if not all of us are open to learning.

 

After our encounter with the Hextor cult, we decided that there was no time for rest before moving on to the final wing of the dungeon. Thomas and I were both reluctant to move on without having an opportunity to prepare our spells, but in the end, we offered no objections and moved onward.

 

Our next stop was the stronghold of the cult of Vecna. At first, I was very optimistic about this battle because we took time beforehand to talk about strategy and decide who would lead the way down the narrow corridor. In the span of precious few heartbeats, however, we were scattered and separated in a maze of winding corridors, hounded by a dozen cackling Kenkus.

 

The creatures seemed to appear out of nowhere, and they taunted and confused the party with their parroting of our words. Apparently, some of us still stayed in sight of each other, but I quickly found myself alone and locked in one-on-one combat with one of the Kenku. I'm not much of a fighter, and that damned bird must have dodged my scimitar a dozen times before I finally laid it to rest. Luckily, though, the others fared much better, making quick work of these annoying but manageable foes.

 

The more memorable portion of the Vecna stronghold was to be found in their inner sanctum. The floor tiles and ornate pillars lent an almost regal atmosphere to the place, but the sight of many arms writhing on surface of the walls twisted this grandeur into a palpable air of high horror. Upon entering the main chamber, we were greeted by two acolytes of Vecna and some manner of ethereal undead creature that they tell me is called an Allip.

 

Now, I still have little knowledge of such undead abominations, and I knew that my weapons might prove ineffective against it. But the moment I laid eyes on this wretched spectre, I knew that it must be the focus of my attack. The thing muttered and whispered incoherent babble as it approached members of the party, as if to lure us into some dark world of shattered dreams and undead madness. But I simply paid it no mind and responded with a bit of holy water from the town Clerics.

 

As I focused on the Allip, the others made quick work of the acolytes. However, the leader of this cult, known only as the Faceless One, appeared from a nearby door for just long enough to summon a very large centepede. To his credit, Filge used his powers of necromancy to subdue the Allip -- and oddly enough, the writhing arms on the wall managed to grab hold of the monstrous centepede, holding it fast as they struggled in vain to emerge from their hellish prison. As a few of my companions started disappearing around a corner, I decided to follow them in their pursuit of the Faceless One. However, I had my back to the centepede, and as I stepped away from it, the dreadful thing gnawed on my torso! I wasn't wounded too terribly, but the pain was quite strong, and I felt the beast's unique variety of poison slow and stiffen my muscles almost immediately.

 

In an act of sheer bravado, our newer companion, Vincent, then felled the beast with a single attack! I was tempted to assume that he was acting in my defense -- but to be honest, I think that the man barely even noticed that I was there. Vincent weilds a blade in each hand, and he simply leapt through the air and diced the beast to pieces. His body moved with the nimbleness of an acrobat, and his blades found their mark with the ease and precision of a master chef chopping vegetables. I don't known the man well enough yet to be sure of his intentions or character, but I must say that he rivals even Fern in terms of combat ability and style. I was very grateful to see him lay to rest so quickly a beast which had taken such a painful chunk out of my own hide.

 

Alas, combat leaves little room for thoughtfulness or gratitude. Moments later, I found myself tumbling past a Flame Sphere just in time to revive dear Talin, who had been felled by some blast of foul magic from the Faceless One. Luckily for both of us, the strongest fighters of the party were already in the process of subdoing the cult leader. He refused to surrender, swearing that his dark god would be the death of us all. I almost admired his deep devotion, however dark the cause may be. But once he was bound and unconscious, he was much more cooperative.

 

For a moment, it seemed that we had handily dispelled the threat of these three cults. Two of the leaders were dead, and the third was in our custody. We did a bit more healing, then examined the odd alchemy lab and other peculiarities of the Faceless One's domain. However, the threat of a god's impending wrath lead us to believe that the cult's plans may yet be nearing completion. On our way out of the stronghold, we noticed that the odd circular disks on the walls had opened, revealing the many eyes of Vecna that were watching our every move. To be honest, I was tempted to pause a moment and jab each and every one of those abominable eyes with my scimitar! But I knew that there was no point in this, so I journeyed with the others back to the surface.

 

Our return to the surface was one of the greatest reliefs that I've felt since leaving my fellow Druids to embark on this mission. As soon as I spotted the light of day at the end of the tunnel, I was tempted to break into a reckless run. However, I kept a cautious pace as we noticed that all miners had abandoned their posts. Soon enough, though, we found ourselves once again bathed in the light of day.

 

As soon as my feet crossed the threshold of the cave, I fell to my knees and ran my hands across the precious few blades of grass at my fingertips. Without even thinking, I started chanting a prayer in Druidic -- an ancient devotional called Praise Unto the Elements of Life that I've spoken many times since I was a child. There was little time for prayer, though, due to the fact that the miners had gone missing, and we still were concerned that the defeat of the cults would trigger the premature completion of their hideous plans.

 

Alas, our fears would soon be realized. I'll write more of this soon. In the meantime, the journey has been long, and the battle has left me with barely enough strength to write in this journal. After a good night's sleep, I will write more of our encounter with the people of Diamond Lake, and our epic battle with the Ebon Aspect.

 

#3 Further Brutality

 

We are still in the mine, and the battles continue. I haven't long to write, for the party has chosen to push on without resting to heal and prepare our spells. This seems rather foolish to me, but it may be for the best. The remaining cultists are already alerted to our presence, and any delay now may give them time to seek out reinforcements. Therefore, let me make only two important notes about the cultists and the party.

 

First, the cultists. After we dispatched the Grimlock hoarde and rested, we moved on to another chamber where the disciples of Hextor had gathered. I am still learning about the peculiar practices of those who worship various gods rather than Nature's divine source -- but even so, I've learned enough to know that Hextor is evil. This cult of Hextor is party to the dark deeds, and they are surely involved in the work of the worms. I haven't had the chance to discuss the matter further with the party yet, but this new information will surely further our investigation.

 

Second, there is the party. I neglected to mention earlier that one of the freed hostages was a man named Chime who is apparently a friend of the others and is now travelling with the party. And for better or worse, the helf-orc Sorin has left the party for good over a lapse in ethics.

 

After a pitched battle with a Cleric of Hextor, the fiend knew that he had been bested, and he raised his arms in surrender. For a moment, I was stunned, never having seen the Cleric of an evil god surrender before. However, I would soon spin from stun to shock as Sorin -- still consumed by the rage of battle -- marched right up to the Cleric and split his head in two with one mighty blow.

 

I was close enough to the two of them that a bit of the man's blood splattered on me. Thomas and I had both born witness to the deed, but soon the others approached, asking what had happened. Once they found out, a debate ensued.

 

At first, I defended the action as unfortunate but excuseable, at least for the time being. I had never been in the situation before, and honestly did not know what to think. To her credit, Fern would have none of it, insisting that it was unacceptable to slay a surrendering person, even if they were evil. For a moment, Fern and Sorin were on the verge of a bloody battle! But in the end, the half-orc exercised what little self-control he had left in him to walk away from the party in peace.

 

This gives me much food for thought. I regret my indecisive and permissive approach to Sorin's actions, and am reminded that all living creatures, even people who have lost their way, are deserving of our compassion. Filge too has been a reminder of this, though I still suspect his efforts to befriend us are just a ploy to ensure that...

 

The party is leaving, so I will continue later. Just one more corridor to explore, and then I pray we will emerge once again into the light of day.

 

#2 Descent into the Mine

 

I may only have a few moments before the others awakens, so I must be brief. However, I feel compelled to write this entry in case I don't make it out of this abominable place alive.

 

Our investigation of the worms has lead us into a mine not far from town. As I follow my companions into this pit, I ask myself why this place exists at all. Why do men insist on burrowing into the land and pulling loose its sacred ores? I have no quarrels with the cave dwelling creatures of the natural world -- but this unnatural practice of mining leaves a gaping wound in the land, and that wound is inevitably filled with all manner of vicious infections. I have heard tales of such horrors, but only now do I have the dubious honor of laying eyes upon them.

 

In these dark, dank tunnels, we have uncovered the lair of cultists who worship gods of war and evil. Ever since we opened the doors of the elevator, we have been assaulted by the minions of these cultists. After the others dispatched the initial assault of Tieflings and Skeletons, we discovered a sacrificial altar and a pool of viscous black liquid that radiates a cool breath of evil. We had little time to pause, however, as a side tunnel soon proved to be filled with hostages and Grimlocks.

 

Ah, Grimlocks. The mere sound of the word makes my stomach churn. In my studies of the natural world, I recall a debate amongst my fellow Druids as to the origins of the Grimlocks. Were they born of evil sorcery, or did they evolve into such a form after generations of life in the dungeons? I know not the answers to such philosophical questions. Yet when I stare into a Grimlock's empty eye sockets, and smell their rotten stench, and hear their inhuman battle cry, I know in my heart that they are an abomination.

 

The others are stirring now, and the elf never seems to sleep, so I must be going. However, let me say that I fear the worst of the danger may yet lie ahead of us. I was nearly slain by a grimlock barbarian, and the charmed stone given to me by my mentor proved quite helpful in defending myself and another member of the party. My companions are still rather headstrong, and I worry that their eagerness for adventure may be our undoing. However, their skill in combat seems to protect them from any minor errors in judgement, and at times I simply find myself following after them meekly, striking a few blows in battle and working with Talin to patch everyone's wounds afterwards.

 

If I do not survive to make another entry, I ask any survivors to tell the Druids near town of my loss, and to inform them of the news from our investigation. Also, though Filge has proven to be a helpful ally, I remind you that he is a necromancer, maker of abominations. I am coming to see his humanity, but hold out little hope for his redemption, and advise the party not to trust him.

 

With that said, though, I swear by every ounce of strength left in my body that I will make it out of this accursed mine to see the light of day once more. After I sing a few songs of thanks to the trees and the fresh morning air, I will wash away the stench of these grimlocks, and our journey for the source of these worms will continue.

 

#1 The Observatory

 

I have not kept a journal for many years, since the earliest days of my Druidic study. However, today, I feel that I must start anew. I only have time to record the barest of details, but these may serve me later as I reflect upon these dreadful experiences and what they mean to the future of my path.

 

It has been several days since my mentor instructed me to venture into town and investigate the worms. Even among my people, who prefer to live in the woods, I am known for my dislike of the city. I have no quarrels with the people there, for many are simple farmers or laborers who spend a good deal of their time with the land. However, whenever my feet step from the heather of the land to the bricks of the city, my heart aches, and my eyes grow ever watchful for figures in the shadows who would have nothing but evil in their hearts. Perhaps this open wariness of the city is why my mentor chose me rather than another student to carry out this important task.

 

My search for the source of the worms has lead me into the company of a band of curious travelling companions. I still know only bits and pieces of their histories -- but since these emerging adventurers share in my quest to uncover the source of the worms, I have little choice but to join forces with them.

 

• Thomas is a wizard who aspires to be a fighter.

 

• Fern is perhaps the most outlandish of the lot, with the agile combat moves of a seasoned warrior, yet the naiveity of a newborn fawn.

 

• Sorin is a bit of a paradox as well. He claims to be a historian and shows promising signs of intellect in his quiet moments. However, his half-orc blood seems to fill him with rage, and even as we fight side by side, I find myself filled with a twinge of fear.

 

• Talin is among the most level-headed among them, with a keen eye, nimble hands, and quite the potential as a healer.

 

I had only just met these people when the search for the worms lead us to a nearby observatory. What we discovered upon our arrival there was almost unspeakable.

 

A necromancer by the name of Filge had taken refuge in this place, sponsored to a degree by some man named Smenk back in the city. Filge, too, was charged with the task of investigating the worms. However, his investigations took the form of research into the unnatural arts of necromancy.

 

The lobby of the observatory was guarded by animated skeletons! I had only seen anything like it once before in my life -- and had I been alone, the creatures would have easily dispatched me. Luckily, my companions made quick work of them.

 

Perhaps the greatest horror of all was to be found in the dining room. Seated around the table were a dozen rotting corpses. When one of my companions sat in the only empty chair, the corpses began to speak! It seems that Filge had taught them all to sing his praises. Worst of all was a young woman who had spurned him in life, only to have her lifeless body serve him in death. I dare not consider what may have transpired in that room when no one was there to bare witness.

 

At this point, I learned all too quickly that most of my newfound companions are quite headstrong, to the point of sheer recklessness. After a quick search for hidden treasures, which seemed all too important to them, they continued their charge up to the third floor without formulating a plan.

 

On the top floor of the building, we encounter Filge in all of his dark glory. My mentor had taught me a few words of Infernal, simply so that I might recognize the tongue should I ever stumble upon it. But nothing had prepared me for the sound of a pale, sickly ghost of man singing joyful songs in Infernal as he performed his dark arts.

 

I have no great love for violence against the living. In fact, I seek compassion even for humans who have lost their way. However, I must confess that I felt no sorrow when the first strike of battle brought his wretched singing to an end.

 

The battle was fierce, and in my inexperience, I feared for a moment that we would all be slaughtered. However, we had taken the fiend by surprise, and my companions made swift work of his minions. I did my best to aid them, but my meager few blows were among the least dramatic of the battle. More important, perhaps, were the goodberries and healing arts that I had to share.

 

As they descended upon Filge, I knew him only as a fiend, no different than his creations. However, when the half-orc Sorin gouged an eye out of the man's prone body, I felt a bit sickened. To kill in battle is one thing, but why this act of maiming? When Talin paused to defend him, it gave me pause to consider the fact that Filge was indeed still a living creature. Of course, her act of defense was at least partially motivated by a desire for information. Even so, the sight of a small Cleric standing to defend this man from a raging half-orc was quite the moving experience for me, regardless of her intentions.

 

I am pleased to say that we all survived the encounter -- even Filge, though his eye is still in the hands of Sorin. Once the undead abominations were all destroyed, my companions proceeded to loot the entire observatory, vowing to return with a cart for what they could not carry. They abducted Filge, carrying his unconscious body back to town in the hopes of gathering information and possibly more from the man.

 

Once we had emerged from the observatory, my only thoughts were of the forest. At the earliest convenient moment, I bid farewell to these curious people and walked into the woods. With the help of my favorite magic, I was able to take the shape of a tree for a while, relaxing and recouperating from the psychic trauma of the experience. And now, with my rest complete, I've paused for these precious few moments to write about the experience before heading back into town.

 

---

 

 

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