The Lost Journals

Fiction about Ravenloft or Gothic Earth
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High Priest Mikhal
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Re: The Lost Journals v2

Post by High Priest Mikhal »

(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Mordentshire, Mordent, July 22, 729 BC)
I believe I've made a breakthrough! While studying some of the tomes stolen from the Fraternity in search of an answer as to how to teach the Words of Creation in the Shining Force's library two weeks ago, I developed a nosebleed from the dry air. In trying to staunch the bleeding some of my blood fell on the ground and I noticed something strange in the Near Ethereal. A hole, or tear, formed where the blood had fallen and energy seemed to trickle inwards. This one-way gate to the outside still meant the power of the Upper Planes could be coaxed forward. Enough to grant the power of pure, unadulterated Good to those who had proven worthy.

But that was the library. One of the most important, and secret, portions of the compound. It was the one place I had spent enough time in that I had to literally anoint everything in it with a drop of my blood to counter the deterioration of reality I seem to cause after long periods. There was one other place I spent more time...

In the temple a few of the members were praying. The altar was packed with small shrines to various gods: Ezra, the Morninglord/Lathander, Hala, Mishakal, Corellon Larethian, Moradin, Garl Glittergold, Yondala, even Bahamut. Here, too, I had had to anoint everything that went in it with a drop of my blood. Though the material was firmly protected, the spiritual was still prone despite the strongly positive ethereal resonance. It was also here that new members were formally inducted, standing in a ritual circle. So I decided to slice open my hand and let enough of my blood pour out to fill in the circle. Some of othe others were whispering about my behavior but I was too distracted on using the Words of Creation to call on the celestial realms to lend a tiny drop of power. I felt my entire body cramping up, my amulet regenerating the fatigue, and the pain returning. Over and over for what felt like an eternity. Finally I felt my strength give out and all I could do was lay there stunned for a few seconds. But it worked; the combined power of all the Upper Planes was flowing through.

In the time since then several members of the purest heart have begun manifesting abilities that can only be attributed to the heavens. Including knowledge of the Words of Creation. The first was a gnome bard, Glastor, who immediately realized the power inherent in combining his music with the Words. Fortunately he didn't try to do so! That can be one of the most exhausting uses of the Words. I had to commission a ring of regeneration for him since it wouldn't help if he inspired his allies and then collapsed from exhaustion. Ren and Kaylee even formalized the bond of wizard and familiar, the greatest sign that this was a true gateway for the power of the Upper Planes to manifest. But I had to remind the others that such blessings never came without responsibilities. Most important was to walk the path of righteousness at all times; even a single act of evil would cause their heaven-sent powers to disappear permanently. The second was not to let this go to their heads. The powers of good have favored them, but that favor must be maintained. Arrogance always led to a fall from grace.

Finally there's something no one besides Dratha, Niela, Orwin, or myself know just yet. Each of us has gained the ability to use a power akin to daylight at will. There's also been some sort of epiphany in each of us, an innate understanding of the nature of the planes and of this world. This isn't exactly a boon; the exact meaning behind what we've discovered so far is now far clearer than before. As is the sanity-rending truths. Each of us felt our minds trying to wrap themselves around what we suddenly understood. Fortunately none of us snapped, but if that's the price everyone who achieves such must pay...I can't help but wonder if there's more going on. For just a split second I would swear I felt something...alien in my mind. And emotions. Bemusement? That's what it felt like most.

The need for a more organized hierarchy is clear. Better to prepare those who may reach the highest rank in the organization for what must ultimately be paid. And to ensure those who would use such knowledge for ill are never allowed to realize it.
(End transcript)
"Money is the root of all evil...I think I need more money."
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High Priest Mikhal
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Re: The Lost Journals v2

Post by High Priest Mikhal »

(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Mordentshire, Mordent, Sept. 10, 729 BC)
For the past couple of months I've devoted most of my time and energy into the Shining Force and its hierarchy. A slow, steady trickle of applicants has necessitated that we divide the Core into four parts and the four of us take charge of a particular piece. Orwin has taken the southwestern portion of the Core, particularly Sithicus. Dratha has taken the northeastern part, including the eastern half of Darkon. Niela has taken the southeastern part where the Church of Bane (Lawgiver, Iron Tyrant, it's still Bane) rules. I've taken charge of the northwestern part of the Core and already begun a campaign to filter out word of our existence. Although we do need anyone of stout body and pure soul, the risks of being discovered by those who would oppose us or, worst of all, the darklords, is simply too high. The Dementlieu cell has already begun a major misinformation campaign that will discourage all but the most determined.

To date there have also been some serious political and metaphysical changes that concern me greatly. The first is the fall of Bakholis, darklord of Invidia, to a peasant uprising and his murder by a young half-Vistani woman named Gabrielle Aderre. The second is the sudden death of Prince Kethmar Bolshnik of Nova Vaasa, rumored to be at the hand of his son Othmar. Perhaps the man saw this coming because Sir Tristen Hiregaard has also been named regent during his five years in power, effectively cutting him off from power. For now, at least. What will happen in another twenty-five years when his time to rule comes around again? I fear this has only delayed the rise of another tyrant in these lands. When I made a brief visit--goddess, I hate teleportation here--to Nova Vaasa I didn't "feel" any change in to the land's tenor. The same was not true of Invidia as Bakholis's tyrrany was gone and replaced with a feeling of laissez-faire and passion left utterly unchecked. The characteristics of Gabrielle? Time will tell.

For now the Archer Trading Company has found new inroads into Invidia. Without Bakholis to tax trade so heavily it's proven profitable to expand business. Not even the Boritsi Trading Company was fast enough to get there ahead of us and the biases the people have towards the Boritsis is certainly helping keep them from making any real progress. More money in my coffers translates to more money for the Shining Force. Plus our Halite allies no longer have to worry about a mad tyrant coming after them. Just the superstitious locals, unfortunately.

Then yesterday, as I patrolled the streets of Mordentshire as a favor to the sheriff, I realized I was being watched from the mists. The footsteps were a bit heavy, but still light enough that it was certainly a woman. One with a strong physicality at that. Maybe I was just being paranoid, or I was plain afraid, but I immediately used my rod of stealth and circled around to take on my would-be stalker. I let instinct take over at that point and scuffled with them until I managed to pin them to the ground.

Imagine my surprise when I found out it was Maxine!

She'd finished her training in Paridon and ascended the physical teachings of the Divinity of Mankind. When she left to return home the Mists descended and she was forced to walk about in total blindness. She hadn't meant to startle me like that, she'd been Mist-led and couldn't be sure I wasn't a threat. If she hadn't wrapped her head to fight off the cold I might have been able to recognize her earlier. That shock of red hair is pretty unique in Mordent. Putting aside our mutual misunderstanding I couldn't stop myself from embracing her. I haven't talked much about her for years but in my heart I was always worried for her. That she'd reached the pinnacle of what she could learn was...well, amazing. In fact if I hadn't gotten the drop on her I'd probably be the one who got pinned.

Our little reunion was short-lived, though. On the night air we both caught a strong whiff of fresh blood. That's when a mottled little gray humanoid appeared, brandishing a curved dagger that reflected red in the wan moonlight. Not just blood, but etchings filled with what had to be ruby dust made to look like blood. A dread doppleganger, carrying something that made me very uneasy being near. I've committed the blade's description to memory so I can research it later. At the time I could see the creature wanted to murder one of us and soon. Maxine had noticed it following her through the Mists, perhaps thinking her an easy target. When I loosed a mind arrow at it that left it blinded by bright light it turned and ran. Maxine was faster than a horse at full gallop but it still eluded us somehow. The rest of the night was thankfully uneventful.

As I write this, Maxine and I have just finished talking for what turned out to be nearly twelve hours straight. In just a couple of years our lives have changed so much. I knew she would fit right in with the Shining Force and didn't hesitate to offer her membership. Her formal initiation is set for tomorrow. For now we both just want to get some sleep.

(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Mordentshire, Mordent, Sept. 15, 729 BC)
Maxine's initiation was...powerful, to say the least. The celestial energies coaxed through the tiny dimensional tear had a profound effect on her. Static electricity filled with the room and all of us present could feel it coursing through our bodies. It wasn't unpleasant, actually. It felt like the first time I'd visited Mt. Celestia, the raw power of law and goodness filling my body, mind, and soul with righteous strength to fight evil. Maxine was held, transfixed, for several seconds until she fell limp into my arms. As she came to she described herself as feeling "stronger." There was also a name that filled her mind: Pistis Sophia. I had to ask her to repeat it in case I'd misheard the first time. There was almost no way she could know that name; Pistis Sophia is one of the Celestial Hebdomad, the ruling body of Celestia. The Aescetic herself had invested her with the beginnings of one of her Initiates. Were the Hebdomad actual gods I would doubt such a thing was possible. The Unspoken Pact forbids true gods from interfering with this world. But not god-like beings, it seems.

Further she had broken past the wall most achieve in their abilities as a result. That called for a special pair of items I'd been saving for centuries. The first was a quarterstaff seemingly made out of solid gold, a rod of the gold wyrm with its ends enhanced further with holy power. The second was a sling that created its own bullets and was especially baleful to the undead. I couldn't think of anyone more deserving. After all that she had gone through, from the transplant of her very soul into that of a living flesh golem to completing her training despite the outright racism she'd faced as a foreigner in Paridon to resisting the lure to evil so many others like her faced. If one of the Celestial Hebdomad saw fit to trust in her, it would be a grave insult if I didn't do the same.

Since then I've been teaching her all that the Shining Force has learned of the true nature of this world, of the unique rules that govern it, and of its ultimate rulers and prisoners. As well she brought some more information to the table. The dread doppleganger we'd chased off and its odd dagger were actually popular rumors in Paridon. Supposedly the little beasts were everywhere in the city, killing people and taking their place as they wished and to breed more of their kind. One rather dark rumor painted them as having a dark artifact in their possession, something called the Vampire's Tooth or the Bloody Fang.

That jogged my memory. In one of the many tomes taken from the Fraternity of Shadows was a sort of catalogue of dark magical items. One of them was called the Fang of the Nosferatu. The illustration in the musty old tome matched what we'd seen. It was a true artifact, cursed to feed on the power of its owner if it wasn't "fed" regularly by killing others. There was also an odd ceremony one could perform once every thirteen years with it. By killing one person at the stroke of midnight over the course of thirteen nights, the owner was "blessed" with immortality, the ability to resist magic, and other dark gifts for exactly thirteen years before it had to be renewed. Bloody Jack! It wasn't a vampire, it was one of the dread dopplegangers using the Fang!

When Maxine had left Paridon there had already been nine killings. By now either the ritual was complete or had failed. Either way we had missed a window of opportunity that comes only once every thirteen years. Even if we'd gained the cursed dagger, there was nothing about how to destroy it. We needed to build up not just our numbers, but the quality and diversity of those who were part of our organization. Furthermore we needed allies. Not just the witches and warlocks of Hala or even localized organizations like the Noble Brotherhood of Assassins. We need to reach out to other groups that share our goal of fighting evil, especially those who would use the dark truths of this world to seize ultimate power. That is something no one should possess. Those both established and versed in the means and necessities such a grim struggle will entail.

Corick had heard rumors of a group calling themselves alternately the Circle and Knights of Shadow. I nearly choked on my own tongue. The Knights of the Circle?! Here? I'd never dared imagine they were still around. Not after Morgoroth destroyed them nearly ninety years ago. But...it made a certain, sick sense. The necromancer had disappeared suddenly, beyond the eyes of even the gods. As had Elena Faith-hold during her War of Evil. Two souls so utterly and unrepentantly corrupt would have made fine additions to the horrid menagerie this world seems to be. Yet if they were here as well...Lussimar--Ebonbane--could be here as well. It's a chapter of my life I'm still ambivalent about. One the one hand I loved Lady Kateri Shadowborn as all that paladins and anyone else who aspired to pure goodness should strive to be. Fighting beside her against Lussimar and its minions taught me more than two centuries of formal education, about the true nature of good, about forgiveness, and especially about sacrifice. On the other I feel only utter revulsion for Elena Faith-hold for letting her hatred blind her to her own evil. Because, but for the grace of Detriana, went I.

Lady Kateri's sacrifice was what inspired me to face Tyriana in Thanatos when I realized I'd been duped and led me to become a prisoner of Elisime. I sacrificed my freedom, my mind, potentially my soul to try and free her from Elisime's corruption. In the end I guess it worked, because she was the one who freed me and even helped Kyra escape. If I seek out this Circle and discover it's the same one I once joined nearly two centuries ago I'll open old wounds that cut far deeper than almost anything else. Yet it's not just me; it's everyone who dares fight against the tide of darkness. Those who trust me to guide them in our struggle to stem the evil. What other choice is there?
(End transcript)
"Money is the root of all evil...I think I need more money."
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High Priest Mikhal
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Re: The Lost Journals v2

Post by High Priest Mikhal »

(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Il Aluk, Darkon, Nov. 28, 729 BC)
My covert search for the Circle has led me from Valachan to Lamordia to Barovia and now to Darkon. So far all I've gathered are stories, anecdotes, and rumors. I knew the Circle would be a secret society in the Land of Mist but I hadn't anticipated how well they would hide. Normally a paladin is not skilled in stealth and social trickery. The demands of survival in this world, I guess. If not for the common threads of the Shadowborns and even the Phantasmal Forest in most of what I've been hearing I'd have given up by now. Yet there are too many kernels of truth in the things I hear to be simple stories passed along. Too many consistencies across lands hundreds of miles apart.

There's another constant that fills my heart with hate: Elena Faith-hold! That blackguard is still alive and here! Stories of her razing helpless villages match her extreme tactics during the War of Evil to a tee. Many explorers now claim she rules over a land called Nidala, a matriarchy where only women may hold positions in the church of Belenus, the One True God. Exalt him as she might, the simple fact is he turned his face away from her and stripped her of her powers. If not for something else taking his place and duping her she might have realized the truth and even sought redemption. Instead she continues to heap moral edicts on top of one another in a futile attempt to destroy evil in her kingdom. She's strangling the life of her people and all too many outsiders fall prey to laws they could never have known about and end up in Faith Hold to be tortured as heretics. I wonder what sort of punishments Belenus would inflict on her if not for the Unspoken Pact?

As I write this an early blizzard has blocked the roads. If I knew where to go I'd teleport to this Nidala and spare myself all this time. Perhaps there, closer to the source, I might find those who belong to the Circle. As is I have no idea if an attempt would take me there or dump me in some other land. Or worse, in the depths of the Mists themselves. For now I've set up a meeting with an adventurer who claims to have been there and survived Faith Hold's torture chambers. No real name, no mention of gender, just "someone who's been there." At least it's slightly more solid than any other lead I've had so far.

(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Unknown, Phantasmal Forest, Dec. 21, 729 BC)
As I write this I'm being accompanied by the deathless shade of a paladin called Priscilla, once a knight of Elena Faith-hold's, now murdered by her so-called Church for "heresy." There was no heresy as far as Belenus is concerned! She hadn't even formally vowed celibacy so much as had the expectation forced on her. And who could blame her? She was in the bloom of youth and expected to withstand a drive so basic, so natural it inspires poets and playwrights alike? If she hadn't surrounded herself with innocent--if deluded--priestesses and knights I would have killed Elena Faith-hold myself. She murdered one of her own and yet didn't even try to kill me for my part? Why?

But I get ahead of myself. My last entry I was stuck in an inn in Il Aluk waiting to meet with someone who claimed to have been to Nidala. That person turned out to be Priscilla--Priss--who was on her own quest to gain practical experience and become a full-fledged knight. When she'd heard about my search she contacted me via courier. Our initial encounter was tense, filled with mutual distrust, but slowly we began to see past our own petty biases and the truth that lay just under the surface. This young, rather sheltered girl couldn't have been more than twenty and yet she was wandering the Realms of Dread alone? It seemed ludicrous but I could tell she wasn't lying. At her side was a sun blade further enhanced with the ghost touch enchantment to boot, as well as a moderately enchanted suit of ghost touch full plate. She had been prepared well and certainly she was not as inexperienced as I'd have expected. Not as powerful as some lifelong adventurers but still moderately skilled.

Her initial intention was to kill me in honorable combat for daring slander Elena Faith-hold. But as soon as we met I could see her reevaluating that decision. For nearly a week we talked, about the true teachings of Belenus, about my connection to Faith-hold, about what she had done and become in her wrath and zeal. It's hard to see someone whose faith is so profoundly rattled but it had to be said. Over that week she changed and began to question why she was following a series of rules that were not those of a god, but of a mortal? She stopped tying her strawberry-blonde hair in tightly woven buns and even began to experiment with simple rouge and eyeliner. I had to help her not to overdo it by tastefully touching up things here and there. In hindsight the physical proximity and growing mutual attraction should have let me know things were taking a dangerous--for her--turn. But I didn't. Instead I let things progress and by the sixth night I was showing her the beauty and joy of physical intimacy.

That changed everything. It awakened feelings she'd long ignored and tried to sublimate. Now she no longer tried to hide or downplay her femininity or her feelings as a sexual being. For the next two weeks as we traveled to a Mistway that led to Nidala she shared my bedroll nightly and even during the day she was never far from my side or afraid to voice her sudden urges. As we got closer to the Mistway, and then into Nidala, I knew she was playing with fire. If the Church found out she would be tortured and executed. But she didn't care; she was still giddy from the high she had discovered that first night.

Eventually we did reach Nidala and she did her best to appear as she had before. But as soon as the group of knights, led by Elena Faith-hold herself, found us wandering the road it was too late to hide anything. Somehow Faith-hold knew everything just at a glance. The next thing I knew I was standing in front of Priss, holding the knights back. I had to remove my hat of alteration before the fallen paladin finally recognized who I was. There was a look of total disbelief. She had assumed I was killed when I turned my back on her War of Evil. Now she seemed to realize I had turned my back on her. That was how she justified a celestial turning away from what she believed to be a righteous cause. Now here I was again and, for a split moment, doubt filled her heart. But it was quickly washed away by wrath and anger.

Suddenly the knights attacked. I was able to loose mind arrows to knock a few of them off their steeds, stunning them, but I couldn't stop the others or Faith-hold before I found my hands held fast by shackles of pure magical force. Another knight rushed me to the ground and I could just barely get up on my knees before Faith-hold herself sat on her maddened unicorn mount, Addar, and took a halberd from one of the other knights and poised to thrust it through my throat. All I could do was warn her she couldn't kill me so easily. Not here. Nor could she destroy the evil of Nidala for she was the ultimate evil in the land. Fallen paladin. Traitor to Belenus. I swore a litany of such invectives at her, attacking her own doubt, until she thrust.

I felt blood spray on my face but no pain. Priss had jumped in between us at the last moment and been impaled through the heart. Death was instantaneous. Seeing that my mind once more bent and finally snapped. I felt white-hot rage fill me and power coursing unbidden through my body before it all went blank.

As I came around several of the knights were dead and I was covered in numerous wounds. Only Faith-hold and Addar had survived and even they were truly terrified. My entire body was sore but I stood and swore I would return to exact just punishment long overdue. For the evils of the War of Evil, for what she had done to the people of Nidala, and for her hubris. At that she turned and rode off at a full gallop. My legs gave out when she was out of sight and I knelt before the still-warm corpse of Priss. Tears filled my eyes and grief filled my heart. I had only known her for a short while but it still felt as if something in me had died along with her. Only a warm hand on my shoulder roused me. The armor and blade she had been wearing were gone, and instead were adorning her ethereal form. In my mind she spoke, saying she felt herself being drawn to a land of silvery seas of holy water and a giant mountain but resisted, unable to leave me to my fate at the hands of the woman who had betrayed everyone. Instead of the cold, lifeless connection to the Negative Energy Plane, her righteousness was rewarded by the warmth of the Positive Energy Plane. She was now a deathless geist.

Still weary, I picked up her corpse and carried it away into some woods. There, under her own request, I used my psionic powers to burn it in white-hot flame until nothing was left. Not even ashes. Now there was nothing for Faith-hold to desecrate. Or for the fiend Lussimar to corrupt as we entered the Mists and found ourselves in the middle of a domain so fluid, so satured with its ancient evil I had to unleash my own reality warp just to navigate. This was the Phantasmal Forest, so utterly corrupted it made me physically sick being there. Worse still was that we were not alone. The Ahltrian--the bodies of those who died here and were brought back as intelligent ghouls by Lussimar's evil--lurked everywhere. Instead of feeling that gnawing dread that comes whenever I encounter the dead or undead, I felt heartened.

What I hadn't prepared for were the folks and beings that the fiend had corrupted and drawn into its own perverse web of power. Everyone and everything Lady Kateri had been associated with in life had been corrupted by Lussimar. These pathetic beings seemed to be genuinely agonized by my effect on reality. But not the Ahltrian unless they came too close to the holy radiance I emanated. Even then I took down dozens before running into a group of living beings. In the confusion of my fight with Faith-hold I had not replaced my hat of alteration and they saw me in my true form. Instead of panic or swords drawing, they knelt and referred to me as the Angel Alexander. That was the informal title the Circle had given me so long ago in the Great Kingdom. Dear goddess, I had found them!
(End transcript)
"Money is the root of all evil...I think I need more money."
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High Priest Mikhal
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Re: The Lost Journals v2

Post by High Priest Mikhal »

(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Standing Stones, Avonleigh, Dec. 24, 729 BC)
Finding the Circle has proven to be a mixed blessing. They were able to fill in many gaps in my own knowledge of this land, of Nidala, and even rumors of Shadowborn Manor where Alexi Shadowborn still holds Lussimar captive in his flesh. Mentioning the fiend by its True Name caused some of the Knights to blanch as a result of superstitious fear. I had to demonstrate that I was versed in the Words of Creation for them to stop making protective symbols. Maybe their beliefs are true, maybe not. But to me it's a weakness for the ancient obyrith. A weakness that I had to put to use in aiding the Knights. They were here on an annual pilgrimage to renew the magic that binds it to Alexi and prevents its escape from even these dread lands. I hadn't really considered that before; Lussimar, Progenitor of the Loumara, is a being of pure energy. But within its prison it's can't escape. Justice even for something vile by the standards of fiends. Few other beings, such as Tharizdun, are so universally hated by good and evil alike as Lussimar. Its very essence spawned wholly incorporeal demons in the Abyss even long after it was trapped in a magic sword and then a human body.

Once it had been successfully bound for another year, we retired to the Standing Stones where the Circle, also called the Knights of Shadows, gathered to induct new members and discuss the year's events as well as next year's plans. I pity anyone who dares try and find this place on their own; Avonleigh, though not the true prison of Lussimar, is still saturated by its evil. Truly no words outside of Dark Speech can adequately describe the sheer hate it feels towards Lady Kateri Shadowborn and all people and things even remotely connected to her and how that hate has manifested metaphysically. But worse than those corrupted and granted a tiny piece of the Phantasmal Forest to the north as their own little prisons, worse than the horrors that stalk Avonleigh independent of it, are its horrid followers, the Ahltrian. In talking with the Knights I had the bad luck to recall some of the more gruesome battles of the Heretic Wars. They claim these were glorious battles against evil; I call them horrific experiences I would have been better off never experiencing.

The Battle of Bloody Sand was one they wanted me to tell them about. The Ahltrian had built an obscene fortress of bone, brick, and fleshy mortar that had to be razed if we were going to stop the onslaught into the Great Kingdom. By then I had completed my training as an illumine soul and was already a general leading one portion of the armies amassed. The sight of my ability to detonate a flare of positive energy that turned even the most potent Ahltrian into ash had given me an undeserved mystique. The soldiers believed me invincible and, while the high morale was a benefit, the simple truth is the fortress was going to be costly to destroy if we tried to take it head-on. Countless clerics dedicated to Lussimar were among the Ahltrian garrisoned there and had the entire fortress under simultaneous desecrate and unhallow effects, in addition to having all manner of spells ready to rain down destruction or heal and bolster the others. This required some unconventional methods if we were going to avoid a slaughter.

That's when it hit me: rain! Not just a storm but axiomatic and holy storms. The Ahltrian would have their flesh eaten like acid unless they took shelter. It would also provide cover for the druids aiding us use soften earth and stone to undermine the foundation at key points. The constant rain would also trigger a landslide from the nearby sandstone rock formation. Destruction of the structure would force them out into the storms as well. The next day we implemented the plan; almost two dozen Ahltrian were destroyed before they could get inside. At that point the druids went to work and the outer wall shattered when the bedrock it was on turned to clay. That's when the sandstone failed under the torrent of the storms and the main structure was crushed by the landslide. None of our forces were hurt, but those Ahltrian who survived were forced into the open where the storms finished killing off the weakest and the strongest were shadows of their former selves. In a single charge we killed off the entire garrison remaining without a single casualty. A mighty fortress laid to waste by humble rains is the legendry, but the truth is without the aid of everyone there it would have been a disaster.

For that decisive victory I was knighted into the Circle. More battles followed but none were as clean as that one. I lost count of how many men and women under my command and those of Lady Kateri and Elena died fighting against Southern Empire soldiers and the Ahltrian alike. For weeks I heard their screams whenever I closed my eyes and I was unable to fall asleep due to the horrific, intruding memories unless I subjected myself to my own sleep power. For what felt like an eternity we fought against the fiend's forces until at last Lady Kateri faced down the Grand Caliph and banished Lussimar from the Material Plane. I dared believe it was over.

But three Alhtrian had survived and summoned their master back into a magic sword--the Ebonbane--and in this form Lussimar dominated a monk that was friends with Lady Kateri. I was helping out with the last of the cleanup from the war when I heard what had happened. Some of the monk's compatriots had followed him and witnessed the duel, returning with stories of how she had been cut down by the Ebonbane and how Shadowborn Manor had simply disappeared in a rise of mist. Even back then I'd heard tales of the Land of Mists and put two and two together quickly. Elena Faith-hold, her ego swelled by the accolades she received during the Heretic Wars, declared her own War of Evil and gathered fanatics to follow her and Belenus, the "One True God." Corrupt priests did their part to spur an inquisition against those who dared follow any other god, but it was her own self-righteousness that resulted in her fall from grace. I made my own disapproval of her beliefs and methods clear from the start and refused to join her, but with the withdrawal of her powers by Belenus I knew she was too far gone.

Her crusade found other targets in those not allied with her, and then those not human. My own disgust turned to revulsion as I tried to repair the damage she left in her wake. Then I heard she had disappeared like Lady Kateri had and assumed (correctly) she had damned herself to forever be trapped by these lands. Without her, her armies fell apart and resistance forces pushed their oppressors back until they reached the priests who had goaded her on. Their own powers gone, it was all too easy to bring them to justice to face trial for war crimes. It was at that point that I paid one last visit to the former site of Shadowborn Manor, remembering how Lady Kateri was tortured by Lussimar as he possessed another, how the assaults had left her with child, Alexi Shadowborn, that she gave to others to raise so she could stop Lussimar. Rather than abort an innocent life, she gave it a chance and sacrificed her chance at motherhood. In fighting the War she sacrificed much of her own livelihood to stop an ancient fiend. And in the end, she sacrificed her own life fighting the very thing she had given up so much to stop.

From those memories I drew the strength needed to seek out Tyriana in the Abyss. I would give up anything and everything to redeem her. The hordes came to know my name and fear me as much as they hated me. Yet time is a subjective thing among the planes and this all took place while Orcus was still the undead near-god Tenebrous. By heading to Thanatos to find the ancient demon I fell into a trap Tyriana and Elisime herself set. The Knights were rapt as I told them about Kyra, about Tyriana's change of heart that let us escape, and of all that I had done up to that point. I spared them some of the more graphic tortures and debaucheries I endured in the Abyss. Those are things that still haunt me to this day. But upon hearing that I was trying to organize a new force for good, the elders of the Circle gladly swore alleigance to the cause. It meshed too well with what they were already doing not to join. In exchance the Shining Force would lend aid in their own overarching goal to keep Lussimar sealed. Knowing what I do about extraplanar beings in this world I wondered if it, too, had a phylactery. If so then destroying that would destroy it forever.

Yet it doesn't seem likely. The forces that rule this land can only contain Lussimar while it's in a corporeal prison. When Alexi drew it into his body he ensured it couldn't escape, perhaps aware it would be impossible to hold while in its true form. That just makes the Knights of Shadows' annual pilgrimage all the more important for both them and us. I tremble at the thought of that thing escaping. Only Elisime can compare in terms of pure evil. With our alliance cemented I gave them one of the enchanted pins that mark true members. A sword pointing down against a burst of light set against a black background. Something only true paladins could help create as a sort of crude measure against forgery. Likewise something that only the pure of heart could activate.

Tomorrow I return to Mordent and begin making things up to Maxine. She was not happy that I left so soon after she came back. It wasn't something I really wanted to do, either, but something I had to do. The Shining Force needs allies in its fight against the darkness. Other groups are out there, I'm sure. But for now we have gained an invaluable ally. For the first time I feel as if we have a chance of making a lasting difference.
(End transcript)

Editor's Note: While reading and publishing these journals we came across a group who had pins very much like the ones Alexander described. They gifted us both with our own, saying we were now considered allies to the Shining Force. The pins activate an effect like the paladin spell holy sword once per day. Reports of those who gain such pins but are not pure of heart being put under geas spells to rid themselves the pins have likewise cropped up. Apparently not everything about this Shining Force is benign. But such measures are often necessary when fighting against evil. -- Laurie Weathermay-Foxgrove
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Re: The Lost Journals v2

Post by High Priest Mikhal »

(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Mordentshire, Mordent, May 5, 730 BC)
It feels odd to take pen to paper again after everything that's happened since my last entry. Life has been hectic, to say the least. The Archer Trading Company ran into some trouble in a newly formed land called Verbrek; the place is not unlike Arkandale but is under the firm control of the werewolves and the locals have little that I can't acquire elsewhere with less risk. Then there's a continuing fiasco in Invidia where my own merchant trains have been hassled by Falkovnian soldiers nominally protecting a trading colony of their own. Gabrielle Aderre has been no help in reigning in those fools and to compensate I've had to start outfitting my people with guards that far exceed the usual level of skill and expertise necessary. Bandits and thieves are not a problem for most, but trained soldiers? That's a very different story.

Then there's the Shining Force. I had hoped that dividing the group into the four corners of the Core would disperse us enough that numbers wouldn't be an issue. In that regard I did achieve a measure of success. Only it's now become clear that many, many other groups like ours are out there and they want to join. Safety in numbers and all that. Practically every coven of Halite witches has declared formal alleigance to the Shining Force, as have groups like the Order of the Guardian and the Stygians. Membership isn't swelling in one particular region but all of them and in a very dispersed manner. The group's collective power is likewise growing but our name is being subsumed under the guise of others. The most recent group to join us are clerics of the Morninglord in Gundarak calling themselves the Heralds of the Dawn. They're so dedicated to the eradication of vampires it's scary. Duke Gundar and Strahd rank at the top of their lists, though I had to make it clear the latter was off-limits if they went in under our collective aegis. On their own, I really don't see a problem.

This is all well and good but getting the disparate groups to coordinate and work together is an epic undertaking. Communications are so poor as to be nonexistent. Messengers are too slow and we don't have a reliable way of communicating magically. At least not yet. A magical chalice used by the "nobles" of Richemulot proved to be a model to work from. The cantrip message is simply too limited in range to be of use to what we need, but research into an existing or new spell is underway. Hopefully we'll be able to sort out that problem soon; the Fraternity of Shadows, among others, are already making moves against us. So far we've stayed several steps ahead of them so their efforts have been for naught. So far.

Finally there's an "issue" between me and the true lord of Mordent, Wilfred Godefroy. Not a week after returning to Mordent after my time searching for the Circle, Priss found herself drawn to the House on Gryphon Hill through some sort of ethereal vortex. I was vaguely aware of some sort of phenomenon but hadn't investigated it before. Her geist told me of the constant draw on her spirit and I knew I would have to do something. Only I didn't know what until I did some studies on local folklore. Apparently the House is a sucking maw of evil in legends, drawing those whose spirits haven't yet left the mortal world into it. If the House itself was the source, then it would be a simple matter of destroying it to end its pull. "Easy" since I wasn't holding back. This was war! I would tear the walls down by hand if necessary!

I don't know how long Godefroy has been collecting other ghosts and then beating them into submission, but it just steeled my resolve further. Blowing out a wall with an energy wave of sonic power to get in certainly got his attention. His army of geists couldn't bear to be near me as the holy light I was emanating seared their ethereal flesh, nor could he stand to get close thanks to my effect on reality. Not that he wanted to after my mind blade left a searing gash on his ghostly body. Someone opposing him was bad enough, but to hurt him in a very real way touched on his inner coward. He just floated there, holding his wounds as I turned walls and rooms into rubble until it became clear I could--and would--destroy the entire Manor given time. He was practically begging me to stop before I finally did.

My terms of cease and desist were simple: let Priss go and keep out of the affairs of mortals in Mordent. Even as he was eagerly agreeing an old grandfather clock struck midnight. His ghostly flesh turned even whiter--if that's possible--as the ghosts of his wife and daughter appeared. To my grim satisfaction they set upon him with tearing hands and cutting invectives that he was helpless to resist. So he was lord of Mordent, lord of the ghosts he collected, but ultimately the victim of those he betrayed in life. His curse. It wasn't in good taste to watch him until dawn when his tormentors disappeared, but his humiliation at being seen during his most vulnerable moment was too tempting to pass up. It also told me the best time to return when, not if, I did return to finish destroying this accursed place. That much was clear to us both from the start. It wasn't over and never would be until one of us had met true death. And given that an extraplanar being touched by good could override even the connections to the land that all of the darklords possess, it seemed unlikely I would be the one who went to their final fate. Until then I'm just glad he let Priss go and hasn't tried to take her back. As is she, though she did give him far more trouble than he anticipated. Maybe he's learned not to mess with the spirits of paladins.

For now Godefroy seems to be licking his wounds and nursing his hate and anger. Next time I go I'll be sure to take cannons and explosives. On my own it would take several days to tear the place apart completely. But a few cannonballs and petards at key structural points would do so in minutes. But I'm a man of my word and I agreed to leave him and Gryphon Manor be. Until he breaks his side of the agreement. Cowards like Godefroy are nothing if not predictable; he'll have plans to retaliate and will break his word in time.

Next time it's for keeps.
(End transcript)
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Re: The Lost Journals v2

Post by High Priest Mikhal »

(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Martira Bay, Darkon, June 3, 730 BC)
Affiliation with so many other secret societies has proven a true blessing in disguise. Or rather, a blessing of disguise. Our overarching goal remains distinct but our means and methods allow us to masquerade as members of other groups and pursue some of their goals readily. In this way it's nearly impossible to distinguish the Shining Force from the Order of the Guardian or from the Heralds of the Dawn. Sometimes it does lead to problems, though, like what happened to bring me to the lich-king's domain. Though insulated from the strange memory wiping effects of the land, I find being here very unpleasant since I signed that damned contract with Azalin. Not that I had much choice; the wise pick their fights, and that was a fight I wouldn't have had any chance of winning. But it still irks me that I must stay my hand from helping the people of these lands if he is responsible for their suffering.

But I digress. I was working the bogs with the rest of the workers, taking advantage of a dry spell to harvest as much peat and clay as possible from one of the bogs, when one of the men came running like he'd seen a ghost. It turns out he had, one bearing a scroll addressed to me. It seemed that Azalin was having trouble with a pair of elves causing havoc for the Kargat in the area around Martira Bay. He had assumed I had a hand in it and demanded my presence at his castle. The Shining Force doesn't even have agents active in Darkon! Lamordia is of greater and greater interest, especially the work of Dr. Mordenheim. The standing orders are to avoid Darkon for now. So whomever this pair is they're not associated with us or even our allies. Otherwise I'd have heard something by now.

So I left the workers to do what they could before the next rain and cleaned myself up for an audience with a king. He probably hadn't expected me to simply teleport to his throne room like I did. Certainly his guards were quick to draw weapons and advance before he commanded them to stop and leave so we could chat in private. I could see past his illusions and see what it truly was I was talking to. Never a comforting experience. What he had to say also left my sick to my stomach. The Kargat had found out about my hiring Alanik Ray to investigate Sonia Darkleaf and her Cult of Elisime. Now he wanted me to look into the arrival of an avolakia allying itself with the Cult, destroying it if I could. I'd wondered what had happened to the one I'd encountered all those years ago. Now it was back and this time I was determined to make sure it didn't escape. Worse still, in the lich's mind, was that someone had broken into his castle and crossed out Sonia's name with a quill of law in the Book of Names. He suspected it was the creature, as several of his corporeal guardians had been eaten in the assault. How it broke in without Azalin knowing I can't really say. But if he was preoccupied with something related to escape that would explain it. I'm not too sure I want to know.

Finding the location of the Cult proved easier now that I knew what to look for and who to ask. I think Alanik Ray more than earned his fee in that regard. Spying on Sonia and her new "friend," who had taken the form of a dapper human calling himself Malleus. It seems he's a cleric, too. An unsurprising fact given avolakia society; many are clerics of the obscure demigod Kyuss, once a lich who had ascended to godhood. A god associated with worms, maggots, death, necromancy, and evil. Elisime was an ally of sorts, more because Kyuss perverted the natural cycle of life and death. That also seemed to be what Sonia and Malleus had built their own association on: utter perversion of, and in, life and death. However, being in Sonia's actual presence, I gauged that she was far more powerful than she appeared or let on. The avolakia may be beings of deception but even Malleus was out of his league here. Her power didn't just come from running a major cult but also a command of magic, both arcane and divine, that even Azalin couldn't match. The lich-king was right to send a pawn to investigate; without his powers as both a lich and the lord of Darkon she would be able to destroy him--or worse, control him like a puppet--without effort.

She was also aware of many of the mistakes those who grow powerful make. She was keeping a low profile, working through proxies, and not attracting too much attention. And to think this all started from a seed of hate...

On her arm, though, I noticed a scar formed from repeated healings. Even as they talked she cut the scar open with a dagger like it was nothing and rubbed powder into the wound before healing it closed. Luhix! She was taking one of the most potent drugs in the multiverse. The pouch she'd drawn the powder from had given off an aura of creation magic; likely it created a dose every day, feeding her addiction. When Malleus finally left the private room of the inn they were in she popped a glossy black leaf--the drug darkleaf--into her mouth and began chewing. Although not as potent as crimson jelly toxin, it was likewise an aphrodisiac and highly addictive itself. When it was treated and the active compounds concentrated it would cause permanent brain damage that left a person a slave to lust and unable to care for themselves. Apparently Sonia didn't like the idea of losing control, even to her own drives, and simply chewed it instead. Before pulling a hidden trap door open and descending a hidden stairway. I made a mental note to look into this place later and tracked Malleus as Azalin had told me to.

He meandered around the town for a while until the sun began to set. In the darkness he went to the town's cemetery and began animating corpses before transforming into his true form and then hungrily consuming each in a mass of slobber and sickening smacking sounds. This thing was a serious glutton. Once it had finished that first course it began to attempt to animate more for seconds. Until I drew the Dream Staff and activated the consecration and hallow effects. Its attempt failed and, still both hidden and invisible, called down a column of fire on it. That left "Malleus" hurt, badly, but it was still alive and I had to call down another, and then another, until it was destroyed. The stench was indescribable and the sight enough to turn my stomach as its charred flesh seeped sickly pus-yellow "blood" on the ground. Not a very climactic end but reality rarely is. This time I had the tools to counter its greatest strengths and end it as quickly as possible.

The fire had drawn attention from the local militia and likely some Kargat members as well. I snuck back to the town and found a room at a reputable inn. That smell is still stuck in my nose and I couldn't stand the thought of eating.

There is one thing that bothers me. The avolakia I faced years ago was apparently nurturing larva. This one had different markings on its hide and didn't seem as powerful, despite the effort it took to destroy it. Did I kill the original? Or one of its offspring?

Come to think of it, why did he send me a message about a pair of elves and then send me on a mission completely unrelated? When he mentioned an avolakia and Sonia Darkleaf I was too distracted to even think about it.
(End transcript)
"Money is the root of all evil...I think I need more money."
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Re: The Lost Journals v2

Post by High Priest Mikhal »

(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Il Aluk, Darkon, June 5, 730 BC)
As I lay trying to fall asleep two nights before I remembered that avolakia are resistant to fire. It hinders their regenerative abilities but I'd forgotten about that slime on their bodies. This whole affair has me on edge. An avolakia and worshippers of Elisime; two different things that set my teeth grinding working together. My anger is getting the better of me.

Then there was another visit with Azalin. Just as I had finished my meditations to recover my psionic strength I was visited by two Kargat agents who didn't even have the decency to knock. They just barged in and demanded I head to Castle Avernus immediately. So I did just that and left them behind when I teleported. The lich-king was expecting me this time. It seems that the whole thing yesterday was a test of my abilities and motives. That, and a way to ensure my loyalty in this matter. I do what he wants and he gives me everything his secret police have on Sonia Darkleaf and her burgeoning Cult of Elisime. Finally he explained what he'd meant in his message about a pair of elves.

One was apparently a powerful cleric, the other a young paladin and a dhampir. What did he need me for? Dhampir are not that powerful. Or the ones I'd faced on other worlds weren't. This was apparently a kind that inherited far more of their undead fathers' powers and prowess. As if that weren't enough the cleric was surrounded by an aura of positive energy that turned undead away. Things were beginning to make sense. A cleric, or paladin for that matter, strong enough to radiate such an aura would be more than capable of causing even Azalin serious problems. So he was sending someone who could meet them on more even footing to "deal" with them.

It wasn't hard to tell that he wanted me to kill them. Or that even his vaunted Kargat had little to offer me regarding Darkleaf or the Cult. He was as constrained by the contract as I was. So long as we both adhered to the letter of an agreement then no sanction would come to either of us. I've always hated that Law was so literal it left no room for maneuvering unless specified in an agreement. And if he thought this was clever, he'd never met a baatezu. Strahd, at least, did have some experience with the workings of fiendish contracts; that was why his own contract is so much more restrictive than Azalin's. I would "deal" with them my own way. But first I had the task of tracking them down. The Kargat had harried them and kept them inside the Forest of Shadows. Yeah, great. A couple thousand square miles of terrain to track them through. And if the cleric was as powerful as I suspected then both would be under a mind blank spell that blocked mystical tracking.

With that I took my leave and began by tracking their trail from where the Kargat had last seen them. Neither of them must have had much training in stealth; they had left a mess that was not at all difficult to follow. But they still had a massive head start and I was forced to camp in the woods when I grew too tired to continue. Both of them were elves so they wouldn't need an eight hour night. But if they had to prepare spells they would still need eight hours of rest. That was going to be my only break since my people, too, only need four hours of rest. Further I could recover my own power in just fifteen minutes. Once I'd slept and recovered I continued to track their path.

By midday the trail was becoming fresher and fresher. From their tracks I could tell they were women from the depth of the imprints, one in heavier armor, and the other walking with a limp as well as a cane or walking stick. Likely the cleric. Her degree of power wasn't something many could achieve without a great deal of time and age must have been catching up. I figured I was maybe four miles behind them and could catch up in an hour. Then a disturbing thought entered my mind. What if Azalin was using me as a beacon so his own forces could track them down? I'm protected from mystical tracking but not mundane. Werewolf Kargat agents could be following me by scent or by my own trail. Technically that wouldn't be a violation of the contract to use me like that. But it would be a violation if I tried to help them when I found them since they would be under Azalin's orders.

Unless they attacked me first.

Calling on a simple power I'd developed I cleansed myself of all manner of dirt, grime, and scent. Then I hid among the branches and waited, eyes and ears open. Several hours passed before no less than six werewolves in hybrid form came loping to where I'd been. The sudden loss of my scent left them confused and unable to track me anymore. But they did have the trail of the two elves. Knowing I had to get them to attack first I dropped down and began taunting them. They didn't exactly have a lot of self-control and all six tried to pounce on me. That was it; I was now free to dispatch them. My mind blade, silvered by my bracers, took down two easily. The largest must have realized what I was doing and ordered the other three to follow the trail while he took care of me. He must have expected a clean fight since I was able to use my rod of stealth to come up behind him invisibly and launch a psychic strike that cleaved his heart in two. Death was instantaneous.

But that still left the three others. By now the moon, full and bright, had risen. It wasn't hard to follow them as they'd broken off branches, left massive tracks in the soil, and were making an awful lot of noise to boot. I caught up with them as they cornered two elf women, one an older woman who could easily be mistaken for a maiden in priest's vestments, the other wearing full plate armor and wielding a silver bastard sword. Or maybe one made that way by magic. There was no time to assess much beyond the basics. One Kargat I took out with a silvered mind arrow to the brain. But the other two attacked the elves. The young woman was holding her own well enough but the older woman, as strong as she was, was unable to hold off the beast even with a volley of spells like searing light and even a sunbeam. Its injuries just enraged it and it ripped a massive gash in her belly before I landed another silvered mind arrow, this one to its back and through its chest. It fell backward dead.

That's when things went crazy. Suddenly the younger woman threw her sword aside and began to bite her attacker on the neck! She was literally drinking his blood and growing stronger for it. Then, with a slam, she knocked it into a jagged broken branch on a tree, impaling it. That's when she came to her senses and ran to the older woman's side, healing her wounds. But that wasn't enough. Her ragged breathing and inability to move her left side meant her heart was failing. Her time was nearly up. She used that time to comfort her young protégé and seemingly to no one in particular, asked for the "angel" to quit hiding and lead her "child" to her true destiny. Then her eyes closed for the last time.

This young woman was crying over the body as I let my aura of holy light shine free and walked towards her. She noticed the light and literally threw herself at my feet, begging forgiveness for her sins of consuming blood. Of getting her "mother" killed. Of even existing. I knelt and told her she had no sins to atone for. Half-vampires must consume some quantity of blood, her mother had died of old age, and that her existence was no sin. She may have been born of the union of a vampire and a mortal, but her parentage was not her fault. That she had been chosen as a paladin was a sign that she was not corrupted. If anything she was doubly blessed. To become a holy knight as the offspring of an undead monster meant that Fate had chosen her for greater things. She just needed to learn to turn her abilities towards goodness.

And, admittedly, it was a chance for me to learn what half-vampires in this world were. This poor girl, Brianna Sunblaze, needed the closure of a proper funeral for her adoptive mother. From the symbol on her neck I realized she was a cleric of Paladine and I was able to conduct the rites her faith used. Though I had no real equivalent of a dust to dust spell in my repertoire, it was easy enough for me to use disintegrate to emulate the effects by selectively turning the body to dust but leaving everything else intact. From there I teleported us both to Il Aluk. Azalin would no doubt send out a search party when his agents failed to report back. He'd no doubt be furious that they'd been killed and the first place he'd send agents would be into Mordent. I sent a written message ahead to the Shining Force to be ready; since the fight would be on Mordentish soil and not Darkonese, the contract wouldn't apply. A taste of what we were truly capable of and, if the lich-king was smart, a warning not to reach beyond the safety of Darkon. If I knew him at all he wouldn't consider that I was hiding in his own backyard. Brianna needed time to grieve and I needed time to consider the ramifications of these events.

As I think about it he might just break our contract by attempting to retaliate. The sanctions he wrote will hit him hard, the least of which will be the utter destruction of his current corporeal body. The rest will forever put him in a position of weakness against me. It was arrogant of him to invoke the Pact Primeval for something so frivolously. Not even the mightiest of the powers use it except under the most dire of circumstances. For all his knowledge of this plane, he has no idea of the secrets the outside holds. And now he may have to pay the price.
(End transcript)
Last edited by High Priest Mikhal on Thu Jul 04, 2013 7:30 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: The Lost Journals v2

Post by High Priest Mikhal »

(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Il Aluk, Darkon, June 7, 730 BC)
There's been something of a furor in Castle Avernus for the past two days. A flurry of activity yesterday and then a sudden lockdown today. Last night I awoke to the sensation of something being lifted off my chest as well. A freedom to act without restraint. I can only surmise that this means Azalin has broken our contract and not just suffered the sanctions, but freed me from the bindings as well. With things now null and void I can order the Shining Force to begin operating in the most discrete manner possible within Darkon. The lich-king is not known for forgiveness or even admitting his own errors. If the histories I've read are correct it's this pride and arrogance that damned him to this world in the first place.

While I was waiting things out I had long, heartfelt talks with Brianna. Her real mother was a priestess of the Eternal Order and her father is a nosferatu Kargat agent. Contrary to what the other races may believe, elves mature at the same rate as humans and she was born barely forty years ago. For the first few years of her life her mother tried to raise her as a "proper scion of a vampire." Thankfully she didn't have the time to instill anything; the cleric of Paladine, Nimitha, rescued her when she was six. But being dhampir made for a rough childhood. Especially when the Eternal Order was always searching for them. Brianna has powers and abilities others do not, including the ability to regenerate depending on the phase of the moon. Some failed while she was in direct sunlight but these seemed to by distinctly supernatural in nature. And to add insult to injury she must drink humanoid blood daily or those powers fail. She'd never been too comfortable with that but it was a necessary evil. Especially when she revealed herself to be a budding paladin in adolescence. With her cursed heritage's abilities she made for a terrifying holy warrior. Yet that same heritage stunted her development. Until Nimitha helped her work through it.

The two had stuck to fighting minor creatures of the night in Barovia, Borca, Invidia, Mordent, and even Lamordia. At least until Brianna was strong enough to face her mother and hopefully her father. That's what had prompted them to return to Darkon and begin causing a fuss. Finding her mother wasn't hard; she was still acting as a cleric in the same temple, only now she was a nosferatu herself. Putting her down was difficult and emotionally draining, but it was also cathartic for Brianna. With her mother granted peace that only left her father. But he proved to be a far more difficult quarry to find. Plus Nimitha knew her time was coming. She had lived for almost as long as I have. She died how she wanted: fighting evil as the Platinum Dragon had charged her to do. Now it seems it falls to me help this young woman reconcile her status as both a paladin and a dhampir. Something that she still struggled with. And, most importantly, to help her find and destroy her father.

While not green, Brianna still has a way to go before I would call her abilities fully developed. And that is what it will take if she hopes to face her father. Especially since he's a nosferatu. With a resistance to sunlight and mesmerizing abilities they are one of the most difficult strains for an undead hunter to fight. Plus as a Kargat agent he no doubt had some sort of formal training in the martial or mystical arts. Either Nimitha was acting foolishly by bringing her young charge to Darkon or, and I find this more likely, she knew what would happen and was fulfilling a step of Brianna's destiny. Especially when Brianna mentioned her numerous visits to Vistani seers in the years prior.

As much as I would like to take Brianna back to Mordent and formally initiate her into the Shining Force, I can't just yet. There's the not-so-small matter of Azalin's breach of our contract. Unless I can be sure he knows that any further attempts at retaliation will result in his own forces, or even himself, being slaughtered by the sanctions he wrote in and is now forever under I don't dare make a target of myself or the Force. And that requires him to possess a corporeal form again. I can't breach the wards around his phylactery to discuss this with his spirit.

Goddess willing, I won't have to come back here for a long time. Azalin will probably feel the same.
(End transcript)
"Money is the root of all evil...I think I need more money."
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Re: The Lost Journals v2

Post by High Priest Mikhal »

(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Mordentshire, Mordent, June 9, 730 BC)
It's taken two days of waiting but finally the lich-king has regained a physical form. To say Azalin was not happy to see me after he pulled himself together again would be a gross understatement. Regardless, he didn't move to act against me or order his guards to attack. His understanding of our contract was incomplete but not so much so he'd risk his unlife. He played with powers he didn't fully comprehend and he got burned. His understanding of planar matters is woefully limited in regards to anything outside this damned demiplane. Now he's in a situation of utter powerlessness. And there's no one to blame but himself. Yet I doubt he will; it would be too much for him to bear. Such is the price of hubris.

Assured that he knew the consequences without even exchanging words--well, he had a few to say to me but I just scoffed in disgust--I teleported out of Castle Avernus, picked up Brianna, and returned to Mordent. She has expressed extreme interest in joining the Shining Force. But of course there's the matter of her half-vampire nature. I remember reading something about it in a text liberated from the Fraternity of Shadows but didn't actually finish it; I thought I knew about dhampir. It turns out I was horribly wrong. I'll have to search the Force's library for the book and come to a decision about this after I've had time to fully digest what I've learned.

Plus Brianna herself is still in mourning over her adoptive mother's death. She'll need time.

(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Mordentshire, Mordent, June 20, 730 BC)
No one mourns the same as anyone else, but certain common stages do exist: denial, depression and/or anxiety, and acceptance. Brianna passed through denial and into depression just a couple of days after arriving here. Maxine, having mourned the loss of her old life when she was turned into a living construct, has been helping her when I've been busy running the Force or the ATC. It never does get easier, mourning any kind of loss, but in time she should recover. Memories of Nimitha will become joyous again and she'll learn to go on with her life.

In the meantime I've learned what I can about vampires and half-vampires in the Land of Mists. They aren't magically created with necromancy but sired by vampires directly! That left me with some mental images I'd rather not have. Their spawn are powerful, very powerful, sharing both a bit of their fathers' powers but also their curse. The strain of vampirism of the father determines their exact powers, but rapid healing, increased physical and mental abilities, and resistance to the elements seem to be universal. Nosferatu dhampir are blessed with greatly increased physical beauty and force of personality, but their regenerative abilities only work at night and only when it's not the new moon. Further all dhampir are cursed to rise from the grave as vampires when they die unless prevented in the same ways one brings true death to normal vampires.

Rudolph has shared some of his own insights into vampires and half-vampires, though I'm a little wary of his theories being biased by his own hatred. Most of what he's shared confirms the texts I read. Further I never mentioned Brianna's existence as a dhampir. Once more I'm concerned his hate may lead to serious consequences. Especially in light of everything he's learned through his research for his planned Guide to Vampires. In addition he's planning on publishing a Guide to Ghosts as well! The nature of the incorporeal undead doesn't necessarily require someone of my unique talents, but he feels his research would be greatly aided by someone who can see, hear, and interact with them. My own curiosity has likewise been piqued. The rules regarding the nature of vampires and dhampir are so much different here than other worlds that any chance to learn more about other beings is worth the risks. One can only learn so much from books.

I've asked him to give me a couple of weeks to put certain affairs in order before I join him on his quest for knowledge. The Boritsi Trading Company has learned its lesson to not mess with the Archer Trading Company, but a new Falkovnian merchant colony in Invidia is another matter. The nature of it means that any sort of actions could provoke a military response from Drakov or his cronies. Unless I instill a greater fear of me in them than of Drakov. That shouldn't be too big of a problem if I use planar embrace to show them who and what they're dealing with. If that doesn't stop them from harassing my own traders and caravans then I can't think of anything that will. All I want is to scare them into leaving my own alone, not provoke a war!

Then there's some disturbing news out of Lamordia. A group called the "Syndicate of Enlightened Citizens" is pushing for something far more than simple rationalism. Rather their goals include the genocide of all nonhumans and those with supernatural powers. I doubt this group has even a snowball's chance in Phlegethos of ever pulling off its agenda but better safe than sorry. Plus it's a good bet they're just as much a pawn as the monster hunters they hire. The Fraternity of Shadows isn't one to dismiss a useful tool like them, especially if it helps do away with those who would cause them problems. I admit it's a rather paranoid thought but the Fraternity has far greater reach than any of us suspected. A trip to the University of Il Aluk while I waited to hear if Azalin had pulled himself together had an encounter with one of the Umbra. The head librarian had the ring of two silver asps encasing an onyx and it had an aura of evocation about it. With that business with Azalin taken care of I'm moving agents in under deep cover to infiltrate the University and begin funneling back as much of its knowledge as possible. Given how expansive it is it's a good bet it's another repository for the Fraternity as well. That's something we can't pass up.

My one major concern is Brianna. She's at a delicate stage right now. Yet if I'm able to travel to her own nightly meditations through the Veil of Sleep I can do more to help her than I could with other telepathic powers. My mind is simply too "alien" for mortals to contact unless it's through dreams. I'll talk to her about this first. The other matters are secondary right now.
(End transcript)
"Money is the root of all evil...I think I need more money."
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Re: The Lost Journals v2

Post by High Priest Mikhal »

(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Mordentshire, Mordent, Oct. 20, 730 BC)
Damn it! Our last ghost hunt was successful in laying the spirits to rest, but at the cost of the life of Gedlan Ironheart. Some thieves had stolen amulets from the graves of wealthy aristocrats in Borca--gold and silver affairs studded with gems--but in doing so they angered the dead and were hunted by their ghosts. I'm not sure if it's just the fact that tangible wealth of any kind is a serious advantage in Borca or there was something more. But the theft brought them back as quite potent entities. Rudolph referred to them as "rank three magnitude" ghosts. A bit general of a classification but it is somewhat accurate in measuring their power. Especially a shared ability to cause instant death by touch.

The thieves had tried to sell them but the ghosts had killed everyone who dared touch them. It's a testament to these thieves' skills that they were still alive themselves. When we learned about them and sought them out, they all looked haggard, exhausted, more like the recently dead than living beings. Yet they still refused to give up their ill-gotten goods, forcing a tense showdown until the ghosts arrived. In the confusion Rudolph was able to steal away the pouch holding the amulets while we both fled. I'm not sure what happened to those grave robbers, but given what had happened to the fences they'd tried to use it's a fair bet they paid the ultimate price.

We knew where the graves were located--fairly fancy for Borca, where most have a simple post marking their final resting place until their descendants can't pay the "rent" anymore. Turning was ineffective, holy water didn't do much, and even the dream staff's consecrate and hallow effects were doing little to slow them down. It was a mad dash to return those amulets to the graves. One of the ghosts in particular, whose amulet was gold and platinum with several perfect rubies ringing a diamond the size of my thumb, was proving especially powerful. If I had to hazard a guess, I'd call it a fourth magnitude spirit.

At the graves Gedlan, Kevlin, and I worked to hold them off as Rudolph put the amulets back in their proper places. Kevlin was able to harm some of them with healing spells while Gedlan used his axe. That one ghost I faced off against with my mind blade split into two blades. Every time it touched me it was jolted by positive energy and caused it to wail in pain even as my mind blades found their mark every time. But it just wouldn't die! Even positive energy bursts did little to stop it completely. I was so engrossed in trying to take the thing down I didn't notice as one of the spirits retaliated for Gedlan's successful sweep that harmed three of them. A touch to the brow was all it took. For a moment he seemed fine, then he cried out and fell to the ground dead.

In a sudden fit of rage I turned and attacked the spirit that had killed Gedlan. Its ephemeral flesh was sliced in two and it dissipated. As it died I noticed faint lines of energy tying each ghost to its amulet. Until they were returned they were literally healing the ghosts. No wonder that one I had fought so hard was able to keep going. When Rudolph placed another amulet in the proper grave another ghost just dissipated. Kevlin was doing what he could to help, but I was fighting the remaining three alone. What was probably less than a minute felt like hours as I did my best to hold them off. One more dissipated, then another, until it was just the most powerful ghost left. For all that I was hurting it, it was hurting me as well. Black was filling my peripheral vision as I fought back. Not even my amulet could keep up as I felt a black out coming on.

Until the ghost dissipated suddenly.

Whatever Rudolph had done had put the restless spirits at peace. Kevlin, who had been holding the dream staff, handed it back to me where I was forced to use it as a walking stick just to stay upright. All the adrenalin in my system was fading and my strength was failing me. There was no place nearby to spend the night and we had Gedlan's body to carry. Rudolph and Kevlin did they could to haul him away until we were all too exhausted to go on. Kevlin had cast a gentle repose spell on the body, allowing us time to return it to his family for proper funerary rites. But that was for a later time. For the time being we had to rest and recover our strength.

As I fell asleep all I could think was, "We should have done more research." That wasn't quite a possibility with the thieves on the run but our ignorance had cost us dearly.

As dawn arose the next day we finally took stock of what had happened. Gedlan was dead, we'd nearly died ourselves, but we had also successfully put the ghosts to rest. I remember remarking that next time we hunted down ghosts, thieves or no thieves we researched what we were up against better. For that matter, what exactly was with those amulets that they'd caused ghosts of their owners when they were stolen? The bodies were mere bones, the graves were more like crypts, and the warding symbol of Andral had been carved into the lids as well. Borca had lost faith for at least three centuries prior to its appearance here so these had to be truly old graves measured in centuries. Literal ghosts of the past.

That, Rudolph said, was one of the biggest headaches of hunting ghosts. Sometimes they were the spirits of people who had died well before the Mists had even revealed a country. They had resisted all attempts to use speak with dead and so we had little to go on besides the fact that the amulets each wore was their anchor, trigger, and something that empowered them. The idea of items being tied to particular powers was one I'd always associated with ancients, given that cultures who mummified their dead also interred them with grave goods meant for use in the afterlife. But ghosts having them as well? That was a new one for us all.

All during the hunt I had also been in contact with Brianna as she meditated nightly. Walking the dreams of elves and other beings that didn't actually sleep isn't hard. Penetrating the defenses of the mind to reach the subconscious is. Instead of simply finessing my way into the dark places she hides from herself I had to smash through the barriers with brute force. I wasn't very surprised to find nightmare-like thoughts of her thirst overcoming her, guilt over her adoptive mother's death, the fear of her father, or of the doubts she had about her worthiness as a paladin. What I did find surprising was fear that I would reject her in time. That part she was rather adamant about not getting into and I didn't try to press the issue. The other issues, though, I did tackle as best I could during the meager four hours a night available.

Fears of her thirst for blood and of her worthiness to be a paladin I could help allay and show her what she needed to see to overcome such fears herself. Overcoming the guilt will be a tougher issue. There's just not a lot I can say or do about it except remind her that her mother had lived a long life and died protecting her. To best honor her memory was to be what a paladin should be. What that meant was something only she could discern.

As for her father...I admit. That's something even I can't do much about except help her grow and prepare for the day she finally does face him. And it will have to be her. As much as I loathe vampires--the Kargat in particular--it's not my place to bring true death to him. That belongs to his daughter. Whether or not it's at all cathartic for her when she does destroy him is another matter. My only hope is to show her that revenge is empty and that his death isn't just about her. It's about the evil he's done and will continue to do so long as he's allowed to exist that he truly deserves to be destroyed for. If mere vengeance is her only motivation she'll burn out and find nothing to live for. That was a path I once walked myself; the empty shell I became is not a fate I wish her to experience. My own journey against the undead, and now illithids, I walk because if not me then who?

Finally Rudolph's bigotry against the Vistani prevented him from coming with me as I took Gedlan back to his family in the Mountains of Misery. The stereotype of dwarves as a somber, humorless people isn't entirely untrue, especially during funerals, but most would be surprised to learn how they celebrate the deceased's life with feasts, drinking, and storytelling honoring the dead. Gedlan Ironheart died an honorable death fighting evil. For that he has assuredly earned his place in the Soul Forge of Moradin. And his living friends and relatives won't soon forget him. For his sacrifice I've decided to etch his name as the first of honorary Shining Force members who gave their lives to oppose the darkness.

This one's for you, Gedlan.
(End transcript)
"Money is the root of all evil...I think I need more money."
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Re: The Lost Journals v2

Post by High Priest Mikhal »

Editor's Note: Though several more entries come before this, we have skipped over them since they aren't of particular interest. If the following comes across as being personally motivated, we would be lying if we said it wasn't. Also if anyone can help uncover what was blotted out, we would deeply appreciate it. - Gennifer & Laurie Weathermay-Foxgrove

(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Mordentshire, Mordent, Jan. 18, 731 BC)
It's been an uncharacteristically cold winter. So much so the omnipresent fog has turned to ice on the ground. Work in the clay and peat pits has halted as I grew concerned for the health of the workers in such ungodly temperatures. It feels like Stygia! Coal normally reserved for the brickworks has been used instead to heat stones and thaw the ground enough for farmers to give their livestock a chance to feed, not to mention keep barns warm enough so the animals don't freeze to death.

Brianna has been responding well to talk therapy in addition to further dream therapy. Yet she's been sending mixed signals. Off hand she'll ask questions about whether I could ever love a half-monster and then act like she didn't say anything. Or have a servant send me to her chambers with instructions to just open the door, only to act as if she'd been changing and giving me brief glimpses of her nude body. The latter in particular has been growing more frequent and she's been growing bolder in what she reveals. She may be a good paladin but she's an awful actor; I can tell by her body language she's doing this deliberately. Testing the waters of my attraction to her. So today I just told her outright that, yes, I did find her attractive and that I loved her. I meant it in a mostly-Platonic way--I'd be lying if I said that was all--but she just blushed a beet red color and was unable to really talk much. All she could do was smile slightly and avert her gaze if it met mine.

Maxine did much the same thing once. It's almost amusing how they're so afraid of rejection that they try to hide their feelings and yet still elicit some sort of reaction through "accidental" exposure of their bodies.

With her unwilling to talk I resigned myself to reading some of the notes Rudolph had sent my way regarding both vampires and ghosts. Much of what he'd discovered was really news to me. I knew older vampires were generally more powerful but often that was a result of training rather than anything innate. At least on other worlds. Here it seems that vampires grow more powerful with age, regardless of any continued work to improve their abilities. I find that terrifying; those vampires active enough to spend centuries growing in experience and from growing ties to the Negative Energy Plane? Maybe it's time I started working on positoxins again.

My reverie was interrupted by a frantic knocking at the front door. A young messenger sent by Rudolph was insisting I head to Heather House. Lady Estelle was in labor!

I'd helped Rudolph with her prenatal care and suggested that an anchorite be present when she was giving birth. Weathermay women are cursed with hips that often lead to internal bleeding as they're so narrow. But since no one could know when labor would happen it was really up to the anchorites to get there on time. Only they were swamped with others in need; close quarters in the cold weather had led to an outbreak of pneumonia among many people. I was the closest to a healer available.

Normally the ice would have simply speeded my journey, but I had to practically drag the servant so he didn't get lost in the dark and freeze to death. What should have taken me ten minutes instead took over an hour. By then Lady Estelle had given birth to twins! Yet as I arrived I saw her spirit being dragged away from Heather House and towards Gryphon Manor. Godefroy's little vortex of evil had claimed another innocent soul. Damn him to the Nine Hells! By the time I was able to make it to her bedroom it was too late. But Death was cheated this day. For though it claimed one life, two more were delivered into this world.

(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Mordentshire, Mordent, Jan. 21, 731 BC)
The weather has warmed up. Not enough to be considered anything but cold but certainly just enough that the ground has thawed. Lady Estelle was buried and her two newborn daughters, Gennifer and Laurie, are doing well. Rudolph has vowed to help raise them, as have I. We both feel some guilt that we weren't able to save their mother. So we will both do what we can.

Daniel Foxgrove is putting on a strong face, but it's not hard to tell he wants to break down and cry. I intended to tell him it was okay, but family and friends have hovered around him and his daughters all day. And I'm afraid I haven't time to stick around. The first annual meeting of the four leaders of the Shining Force is in ten days and the others are arriving before then. It's a time to take stock of membership, developments, and plan out the next year's strategy in each of our respective corners of the Core.

My instincts are telling me this decade is not going to be a peaceful one. Maybe it's just all that's happened. Or maybe it's that I found a copy of Hyskosa's Hexad, freshly inked, on my bedside table. Whatever it is I'm afraid. Afraid on a level I haven't been in decades.
(End transcript)
"Money is the root of all evil...I think I need more money."
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Re: The Lost Journals v2

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(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Mordentshire, Mordent, Feb. 28, 731 BC)
Ugh, what a nightmare! Four weeks of hearing reports about the various quarters of the Core and having to decide what to do. Niela has had nothing but trouble in the southeast thanks in large part to the Church of Bane. Other than a few Rashemani who had the courage to take up arms she's been unable to find many new members as she helps the Force dodge the Iron Inquisition. I thought they dealt with internal threats? Regardless they've taken to hunting us down in Nova Vaasa and Hazlan alike. Barovia has been a dry hole as that contract with Strahd means prevents us from working there and none of the locals are willing to risk their lives on mad ideals of opposing evil. Likewise Kartakass is still a no-go since we can't be sure the wolfweres there won't infiltrate. Not until more soul seeker amulets can be created and we've just one for each quarter for now. Bluetspur, Forlorn, and the Nightmare Lands are likewise unoccupied as far as we know.

In the northeast quarter Dratha has been running into trouble with the Kargat. Azalin is still quite upset and refuses to be a big man about it and admit he was outplayed. Instead he's venting his rage on the Shining Force wherever they can be found. Ironic, then, that Darkon--east and west--is one of our richest recruiting grounds. The elves of the Mistlands especially have quite a number of younger generations who pine for something more than just the sedentary lives of their fellows. Dwarves in the Mountains of Misery are likewise flocking to our banner after seeing too many innocent slain by the monsters of the dark underground. The Eternal Order is having a fit but they're not giving Dratha any real problems besides propoganda.

Elsewhere it's a different story. Arak, Keening, and Markovia are unoccupied while Tepest is still tepid. Some of the clergy of the good gods have sworn their magic to our cause but must then leave because the rest are suspicious. Numerous Halite witches and warlocks have joined us on the sly as well and slaying young, solitary hags has become an unofficial proving. That we allow followers of Hala in our ranks has caused problems with the Tepestani members, but those with open minds are able to look past the faulty legends and outright lies. I hope this continues, but it doesn't seem likely to spread beyond our ranks.

Orwin has had problems of his own in the southwest. The elves of Sithicus are so apathetic to their state it's maddening. Halflings, particularly a relatively large number of paladins, have joined us as we plot to take down Lord Soth. But we haven't the numbers to do so yet. In Gundarak we have found ready allies in the Church of the Morninglord, including an interesting sub-order called the Heralds of Dawn who are devoted to the destruction of vampires. Invidia has produced some rather impassioned applicants but only a few have the fortitude to see things through on a more long term. With Gabrielle Aderre being so disinterested in ruling it's easier to operate there. Not in the open but not like other places. Valachan is another story; the Black Panthers are a constant threat, as is the mysterious Cat's Paw, but some of the locals are willing to fight back against the tyranny of Von Kharkov and other monsters. Along with Arkandale the two are producing a great deal of barbarians and rangers. Verbrekers are too cowed by the werewolves to think of joining.

In the northwest, the heartland of our greatest enemy, things have been going slowly. I've been able to tie up the Fraternity of Shadows' resources chasing red herrings and false tips and given us some more room to find allies. Unfortunately there are other, less seen threats. Mordent is our own heart but has produced very few members beyond some supporters. Given that I don't want to attract Godefroy's attentions too soon that's actually a good thing. Dementlieu has provided an ally in the Noble Brotherhood of Assassins; character assassination, really, not that many of the nobles have very good characters to begin with. Some so-called "stage magicians" are turning out to be quite powerful wizards and sorcerers and a few wish to put their talents to good use improving the lot of others. The Brain is my biggest obstacle there, and given the raw psionic power demonstrated I may end up having to face them personally.

Borca has been touchy given the antipathy of the Archer and Boritsi Trading Companies, not to mention the feudalism that is the government. But that much resentment is actually good for producing folks who will fight back for basic freedom. Richemulot is nothing terribly special, save a heightened need to watch out for wererat infiltrators. Jaqueline Renier doesn't seem to see us as a threat and most efforts on her part have been fairly passing.

G'Henna...aside from a few people unwilling to bow before the oppressive theocracy, that's been something of a waste. One of the biggest problems with members from there is that they're often malnourished and must spend months building up their strength. Likewise Falkovnia has not been a realm I've pushed into very much; Drakov and I are on each other's short lists while most people are simply too busy trying to survive to offer much in the way of membership. A few of the insurrections are willing to lend support, but their methods make me wary. Especially groups like the Freemen of Falkovnia who are teetering on the verge of extremism.

Lamordia is less a source of actual members than of materiel and support. Those few who have taken up arms find the highly mystical nature of the Shining Force hard to swallow. Plus we've run into trouble from the Syndicate of Enlightened Citizens. Their goals are unattainable but that's never stopped zealots from trying and causing a great deal of death and destruction in the process. I'm not even trying to put any resources into Dorvinia. Frankly I won't be happy until Ivan Dilisnya lays dead.

Finally western Darkon has been both a major source of new members, as such things go here, as well as a constant game of chess with the Kargat and the Fraternity. Not to mention Sonia Darkleaf's Cult of Elisime. I'm trying my best not to let my fight with her turn personal but it's not easy when the Cult's very influence is toxic. The Shining Force demands much of its members and we're still trying to find out footing. So there's not much room for members to let off steam. The Cult offers them whatever they desire, they fall prey to their baser desires, and we end up with a danger of leaks at a critical time as well as former members who turn into everything we fight against. To wit we've had to engage in shadow wars against three different "temples." This is like fighting a hydra; every head cut off causes two more to grow in its place.

So I've changed tactics, educating the members on exactly what the Cult stands for and how they prey on potential victims. This had the unforeseen consequence of inciting a righteous rage against the Cult. That has left me to direct that rage against major supporters of the Cult to cut off its biggest sources of funding and temporal power. It does seem to be working but the core of the Cult is proving elusive. And it's not just Sonia anymore; twin elven sisters, one a cleric the other a wizard, have become her top lieutenants, as has a eunuch caliban barbarian who acts as her bodyguard. Calibans are already big, hulking creatures, but this one is bigger still and shows the ability to inflict vile damage with his massive double axe. There are also a number of lesser members, a few dozen total, all of whom have proven to be seasoned adventurers armed with magic items and some showing similar abilities of vile attacks. Since vile damage can only be healed in consecrated or hallowed areas their attacks are especially devastating. Far more worrying is their mobility. I've personally located three different bases in Darkon alone and there are reliable reports of more in Lamordia, Dementlieu, Borca, Invidia, and even Falkovnia.

Plus Sonia Darkleaf herself is far, far stronger than I had anticipated. She has unlocked the full and devastating potential of a true necromancer. Even some liches don't have the same degree of command over the undead she has. Further she's begun to show powers akin to a nosferatu, including lunar regeneration and a dominating gaze. Yet she's also shown a weakness to roses and rose water, must drink humanoid blood daily, and the very presence of true innocents repels her. In some cultures roses are symbols of purity protected and the nature of Elisime's religion as one of corruption and perversion makes these weaknesses poetic. She's drawn the attentions of whatever fell powers rule this land and they've "rewarded" her accordingly.

That still isn't very comforting, though. She's still quite powerful, has a veritable living army at her beck and call, can summon an undead one almost at will, and commands foul magic above and beyond necromancy. Plus her influence is something altogether more terrifying. She's far too smart to threaten the interests of the darklords, but their own vassals are fair targets for sweet, forbidden fruits. I know that temptation well and it's taken every ounce of willpower to resist at times. Others might not have the faith and fortitude to resist.

Perhaps our only real edge is that she has made numerous enemies. The Kargat hunts her Cult as readily as they do us, the Lamordians have organized several attacks on her temporary holdouts when they find her, and the Talons have standing orders to kill her and anyone else who has any association with her. Borca and Invidia, however, have sheltered her and her following from time to time. In Borca only Ivana Boritsi and her emordenung are allowed to partake of the dark pleasures; if the depravity the Black Widow and her followers practice is even a fraction of what I witnessed in the Abyss I'm literally sickened just imagining it. Invidia is where they're allowed to operate a little more openly and they find easy converts among the peasantry and nobles alike. Only their willingness to capture Vistani for Aderre to torture and execute has caused them to start avoiding the country. Even Sonia Darkleaf rightly fears Vistani curses. Numerous Vistani caravans have agreed to feed us information about the Cult and its whereabouts simply because we share them as an enemy.

As I write this the four of us have finally agreed on what to do next in our given areas. I took on the northwest so the others wouldn't have to deal with the Fraternity and its machinations. But it seems like no place in the Core is proving easy for us. Now with the Cult of Elisime to deal with it's going to be harder than ever. We need more members and allies if we're going to survive.

Which reminds me, what happened to that avolakia? I've been so busy for the past few months I haven't put as much time into investigating it as I should. Dealing with one of the Cult's biggest allies would be a good start to hindering them.
(End transcript)
"Money is the root of all evil...I think I need more money."
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Re: The Lost Journals v2

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(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Sturben, Borca, March 5, 731 BC)
I received a letter from someone calling themselves "M. E." three days ago saying they had clues about the whereabouts of the avolakia. Something about this letter, written so tersely as it was, bothered me. Just two lines and a signature. Maybe it's the fact the writer referred to the creature as a "disciple of the Worm That Walks." So few people even outside this world know the title, name, or even existence of the demigod. Aside from aberrations like the avolakia who make up its biggest number of worshippers.

Brianna, Maxine, even Priss (where had she been all this time?) were goading me about it. I think they just wanted an excuse for a little adventure. What we all got was something more.

Directions to this mystery informant were simple enough: go east on foot into the Mists. I hate the Mists. It always feels like something is going to jump out at me. Despite the fact I repulse the vapors. But I wasn't being given much of a choice and I did need to start somewhere in my search. So with ropes around our waits to avoid being separated the three of us still alive went in. Priss followed as best she could. Getting used to the gray, unformed ground under my feet in the Mists is something I doubt I'll ever get used to. Who else has the misfortune to see the raw stuff of unformed creations? Besides those who travel with me?

As we walked I could see things in the Mists, some humanoid, others not, always on the periphery of the repulsion. My fears made to release more and more of whatever it is that causes that effect until we were surrounded on all sides by that same gray ground as far as we could all see. No sun, no lanterns or torches, but we could easily see as if it were high noon. It was just a sobering reminder of the unreal nature of this world and hardly reassuring. If anything it made us all more nervous.

Finally we could see the outline of large pines and Vistani vardos. We had been in the Mists just over an hour but it was already dusk and we had left before dawn. That's when I recognized the place we had emerged in; it was the Tzer Falls in Barovia. My fear suddenly hit a new height as I thought about the contract Strahd had me sign. I shouldn't have been there. Not that close to his demesne. But it wasn't exactly against the agreement to be in Barovia. I just couldn't do anything to oppose the vampire. And it was apparently the Zarovan who had sent me that message. "M. E." suddenly sounded a lot like "Madam Eva." What could she want with me?

A guard of three Vistani men greeted us and escorted the girls to the fire at the center even as I was escorted to Madam Eva's vardo. There was a brief pause until the guard said "the geist was welcome to come in." When I asked about the others he just said this was a discussion for us alone. At least until we left their camp. That was fine; somehow I knew then I'd need time to fully digest whatever it was we talked about. At least that's been my experience when it comes to any raunie, much less the Madam Eva.

Inside her gnarled hands were shuffling her tarokka deck and laying out the same cards each time she spread them, no matter where she drew them. The Dark Master and the Marionette, the Artifact and the Hero, the Spirit and the Prison, the Temptress and the Two of Swords, and the Mists the card influencing them all. I've no ability to understand the tarokka as the Vistani do, but the layout seemed to speak of something ominous. As she explained it the cards told of a time when, "One who travels the streams of time has foretold of great upheavals, of a dark king who is ultimately a puppet, a group of heroes who will restore some vital key, and of one who uses temptation to get her way meeting one who pursues good above all." What it all means even she honestly couldn't say. Something was blocking her Sight. If I understood anything of Vistani prescience, they were blind only to two things: their own fates and a Dukkar, an anti-messiah destined to bring ruin to all and especially the Vistani.

When I asked about whether or not this had anything to do with Hyskosa's Hexad, she seemed not to know about it. I provided her with the paper that had appeared next to my bed and all of the color left her face. This was apparently what the cards were trying to tell her about. I could be fairly certain of who the Temptress and the Two of Swords were, and the Prison had to refer to this world. What the Broken One meant was hard to say; a breaking of this world? Or perhaps a Grand Conjunction where it was turned inside out? Maybe both, depending on the other cards' ultimate meanings. But Hyskosa...who was that? The Vistani seer Azalin was rumored to have locked away in Castle Avernus? Initially I dismissed the idea because those same rumors said the seer was male, and only Vistani women could be seers.

Until Madam Eva told me the Dukkar was always a Vistani man gifted with the Sight. Suddenly all those rumors sounded a lot more plausible. Supposedly the lich-king had held him for nearly sixty years and kept him alive with magic. So the Dark Master could be Azalin but the Marionette was confusing; did that mean he was the puppeteer? Or the puppet? And what about the Artifact and the Hero?

She performed another reading, this time focusing on the prophecy, and got a different pattern. Another Dark Master held the Artifact but it was stolen away and had to be restored, while the Marionette seemed to cause the Broken One by doing something involving the numbers six and five out of order. The Fifth and Sixth Verses--the events--out of order? It made sense; planar events are predicated on a very specific sequence of events. Causing just one element to occur out of order or not at all would throw everything into chaos. But the Verses were so vague as to be open to almost any interpretation. All except the Fifth; Inajira is a name I've heard before. In the ranks of the yugoloths are the contractors of damnation, the arcanoloths. Four centuries ago there were rumors about an arcanoloth named Inajira who had supposedly lost his Book of Keeping floating around Sigil. An arcanoloth's Book of Keeping is their most prized possession and to lose it is the worst humiliation. But no one had seen or heard from Inajira for centuries by the time I arrived here. He could have been looking for his Book.

There was also the tale of how Strahd had signed a deal with Death and even convinced Death to let him hold onto their contract until such time as it was fulfilled. If true, that meant Inajira's Book of Keeping had traveled with Strahd to this world when it was consumed by the Mists. "Make his fortunes reverse, dooming all to live with the dreaded curse," means fulfilling his contract with Strahd and claiming his soul. Without his Book of Keeping, though, Inajira can't claim Strahd's soul so the bargain was never completed. But arcanoloths are planar scholars and this plane is known to be a prison where those who go in never come out. There is no way he would travel here willingly, even for his Book, if it meant being trapped and unable to return to Gehenna. And the fifth and sixth signs out of order just confuse me more. Especially that line about "travelling to the time before." Time travel to the past? Only the illithids have ever done so to escape the end of the Material Plane.

Even as I write it all it still doesn't make sense. There's so much still unknown. I--we, the Shining Force, have to do what we can to stop the Hexad. Preventing anyone, even a darklord, from using knowledge of this plane for evil ends is our core purpose. For her part Madam Eva did reveal the whereabouts of the avolakia and even found its name. Necris, High Priest of Kyuss. All those years ago those were immature avolakia and it's using the spawn that survived and matured as pawns in dealing with the Cult of Elisime. The creature is hiding in the sewers of Silbervas, raiding the mass graves of Falkovnia for bodies to reanimate as slaves and food. What it wants with a cult devoted to the corruption of morals and perversion all things I can't say anymore. At first I thought it was for easy access to food but in Falkovnia it has a near-endless supply of corpses to turn into the undead. Power? Maybe. There is always room for those who worship vile entities like the Worm That Walks in Elisime's church. If it serves the greater purpose of defilement then even the Goddess of Succubi is willing to share.

For now, though, I have to consider what I've learned. The Fraternity of Shadows are children playing with gunpowder compared to what Azalin knows of this plane. Even the Shining Force has only just begun to probe the secrets of this land. If he has kept this Hyskosa alive then he must have learned everything possible about the prophecy's meanings. This is the very reason the Shining Force was founded: To stop those who would use knowledge of this world for evil ends. Yet it depends on what the cards were saying. Is he the mastermind who will bring things about? Or is he just another puppet who will cause everything to fall apart at the eleventh hour?

Only one thing can help us know which it is. Knowledge.

Editor's Note: If what Monsieur Archer is saying is true, then the Great Upheaval was more than we had ever suspected. The world tearing itself inside out and unleashing the evils around us on other worlds? What my sister and I learned in researching our Guide to the Mists taught us that things far more powerful are at work than we'd dared believe. It seems even what we did learn barely scratches the surface. -- Gennifer Weathermay-Foxgrove
(End transcript)
"Money is the root of all evil...I think I need more money."
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Re: The Lost Journals v2

Post by High Priest Mikhal »

(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Levkarest, Borca, March 12, 731 BC)
The three of us have been journeying the eastern end of Borca for the past week, never staying in the same place two nights in a row. I'm terrified of staying in Barovia, but neither do I like the idea of staying in Borca. The land itself is toxic--figuratively and literally. And my last encounter with Ivana Boritsi still chills my blood just thinking about it. There's something about her that says she's more than just some mindless sybarite; there's a keen mind at work beneath that unaging veneer. Whatever it is I find myself terrified. Plus her ability to poison someone fatally with just a kiss makes me wary. If she's even half as wanton as the rumors say then anyone who catches her eye is doomed. Either to an agonizing death or transformation into an emordenung if they can survive a night in her bedchamber.

Fortunately a chapter of the Shining Force was founded here not long ago. It's not as elaborate as our Mordentish headquarters but it's safe enough. Hyskosa's Hexad feels like something that is out of my hands. Call it instinct. The Cult of Elisime, however, is another matter. Since Priss was there with me with Madame Eva she could recall things I'd forgotten. Like the initial prophecy of a dark king who is a puppet. I don't know why I didn't realize it sooner but Azalin qualifies as a dark king. But as a puppet? That's hard to swallow. Unless Hyskosa is the one ultimately in power. The Dukkar should easily be able to escape even the lich-king, yet he hasn't. Is he using Azalin as the vehicle for his prophecy? If this Hyskosa is truly dedicated to bringing about his prophecy it isn't implausible he would risk everything, even his own soul, to make sure it happens. And who better than a wizard with an ego big enough to believe he could try to escape the Land of Mists? Taking it like that then Azalin is the dark king and the one who both travels the streams of time and the puppeteer is Hyskosa.

A group of heroes who restores the vital key could be anyone. But as for the one who uses temptation meeting the one who pursues good above all, the readings bore out that's Sonia and me, respectively. So what part does she play in all this? Or does she? Am I being played by the Vistani? Questions without answers.

As I'm sure Madame Eva already knows, I'm determined to find my own answers. Even if she can't actually divine anything about me thanks to my cloak. Answers lie in Barovia, that much I'm certain of. Yet the contract Strahd had me sign is not so easily escaped as the one Azalin wrote. If there are answers they would be in Castle Ravenloft or with Strahd himself. I am forbidden from approaching either. It's those last two verses that concern me the most and they both involve the vampire. All I can really do is pass what I've learned on to Niela and hope she finds some answers on her own. The only other group who may have more information is the Fraternity of Shadows. If they even know of the Hexad. The more I think about it the more I doubt they do. Otherwise they would be far more active. That, at least, gives us an edge in that they don't know what to look for to take advantage.

Come to think of it, Madame Eva never did tell me a thing about the avolakia. That line about "the disciple of the Worm That Walks" had to be bait to draw me in. Well played, Madame. Well played.

(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Ste. Ronges, Richemulot, April 3, 731 BC)
The avolakia has resurfaced, the real one and not its spawn, seeding the Cult of Elisime among the "nobles" of Richemulot. Malleus is its true name after all, and its spawn use it as well when they deal with the Cult. The death of one of its spawn hasn't perturbed it much, but it does know it has an enemy aware of its true nature. I'm not sure if I should be relieved or insulted that it has forgotten about me. Perhaps the former as it's clearly grown stronger in the time since. It wields a variety of potent new spells that are serving it quite well in charming its victims or altering their very mores to make them more receptive.

Another representative besides Malleus, another jahi-possessed person, is taking control of what is to all appearances a hellfire club. This time it's a dwarf woman with dirty blonde hair and rich gray eyes. This jahi is no less powerful than the first and its host is herself no slouch, apparently a fighter of great skill. Maxine or I could easily take her on, but Brianna would be outmatched. Plus a straight-up fight would only bring problems in the long-term. This time, armed with the nature of what its creator was, we had a chance to find out where Sonia Darkleaf was. She had taken too many magical precautions for me to find using psionics or magic items, and her ability to cover her trail with mundane techniques is astounding. I needed someone who was in direct contact to get any closer.

Since gossip is the coin of Richemulot this club had a rather irritating rule: speak of what happens and face death. In essence, whatever happened there stayed there. It was also an excuse for most to "let their hair down" and revel in whatever debaucheries they wanted. Compared to the Hydra Club what they engaged in was tame, boring even. Or at least it was to me. Both Brianna and Maxine were horrified as people glutted themselves on sumptuous meals, visited a room that acted as a vomitorium, and came back for seconds. The writhing, sweaty pits of flesh on flesh. As well as rooms where those so inclined could indulge in their sadistic or masochistic tendencies and a room not unlike the opium dens of Hazlan but with a greater selection of drugs. What sickened me is that this was just the beginning. In time there would be things far, far worse.

Ironically it was Brianna who kept her cool while Maxine retched once we'd left our hiding places. The young paladin still has a long way to go before she matches Maxine in terms of experience but it seems that the things Brianna was exposed to early in life have prepared her for such horrid and grotesque displays. One more reason to hate the Eternal Order. Still they saw what we were up against--somewhat. It would take weeks or months but the horrors would be far worse in the future. And in Richemulot it wasn't uncommon for people, no matter how prominent, to disappear without explanation. The default assumption was that wererats had taken them. Perhaps that's the reason the club has a ward around it that repels lycanthropes of all phenotypes as well as all vermin. They know the wererats are in power and have taken measures against them. Jaqueline Renier wouldn't be stopped by such, but her kin and any rats she controlled would be. Such an obvious affront to her power is not going to be taken well. The two will be at each other's throats in no time.

For that reason I'm not going to try and stop the Cult itself but go after Malleus. It takes priority for now. And given the...oddities of Richemulot, it will need to leave the country itself to find dead bodies to animate and feed on. Given that we're so close to Mordent that will likely be where it tries to head. Given that there's only one graveyard close by on the Mordent side that's where it's most likely to go once it starts getting hungry. This puts us in the perfect spot for an ambush. We just have to wait.
(End transcript)
"Money is the root of all evil...I think I need more money."
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Re: The Lost Journals v2

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(Excerpts from the journals of Alexander Dreamfire, Marais d'Tarascon, Souragne, April 10, 731 BC)
Malleus did as I predicted and headed towards the Mordent border. The creature must have been quite hungry since it was practically dashing towards the border and the graveyard just on the other side. It didn't even notice the net we'd laid down to trap it. Hemp by itself is a fair conductor of electricity but I'd taken the time to weave in copper wire just to make sure. Then I used energy current to send enough electricity through the creature to char its flesh and cause the most foul yellow ooze to issue from the mouth that was its head. The net by then was destroyed but it didn't matter. It took a great deal of psionic power to kill the thing, though. Among its things in a crude canvas bag it carried we found a worm-shaped silver symbol, an unholy symbol of Kyuss. It had trained as a cleric of the Worm That Walks. Another item of note was a journal of its dealings with the Cult of Elisime. As I'd thought it was using its own spawn as pawns to get an in with the Cult, where it had easy feeding once a given cell was corrupted into necromancy and "consorting" with the undead. Once a given spawn had completed its mission it killed it so there would be no competition for food. Aside from the one I'd killed in Darkon there were three others left. Without its guiding hand, though, they'll be unable to maintain the charade and be put down by the Cult itself.

What little else was left was nothing new to me. But it did present an opportunity to give Jaqueline Renier a look at what's going on. I'm not sure I fully trust the wererat I gave it too, but if it hoards the book and tries to use it for its own plans then that will cause Renier trouble. Either way it's a win for me. The wererats tear the Cult apart or they tear each other apart. In a world where evil is ascendant I've had to harden myself more than ever. Those who possess free will and choose the darker path are all the more vile than even fiends for that free will. Cynicism is a trait I once felt was foolhardy; now I wonder if not being cynical is the true foolhardiness.

Our journey across the border back to Mordent led us into a thick bank of the Mists. Though they were repelled by my presence we still became lost until we found ourselves on an island amidst a marshy swamp. That's when the Mists departed and we could see somewhat better. Wherever we were it was night and the trees above were obscuring the moonlight for the girls. Not that there was a lot to see. Aside from a lake and what appeared to be weeping willows on a distant shore I saw nothing of interest. No lights in the distance, no sounds or smells of humanity, nothing. Then I realized there was something going on. Distances seem to expand and contract visibly. It was as if the land itself was trying to skew my perceptions but the strange effects I have on reality were disrupting its attempts.

That's when I heard a voice in sylvan asking what we were doing there.

A dryad dressed in a robe of leaves was standing there, looking ready to flee at the slightest bit of trouble. Until, at least, I willed my cloak to stop hiding me from mystical detection. She saw that I was a fellow spirit being and her demeanor relaxed. She identified herself as the Maiden of the Swamp and asked if I was another loa, an emissary spirit between mortals and the orishas (gods). To her minor disappointment I had to admit I wasn't. A guardian spirit, yes, but not a true loa. But it didn't seem to matter to her. She seemed grateful to meet another spirit and asked for my help in opposing someone called "The Lord of the Dead." That was a title I'd heard before, from traders from a distant land called Souragne. Some called him Anton Misroi, a "spellsinger" who had traded his soul for eternal life and the power over life and death. Spellsinger is a name for bards in some cultures, given how they cast spells. But they don't possess any real knack for what I'd assumed is necromancy by the descriptions.

I didn't like being in a place I knew so little about. But something told me we were there for a reason. The Maiden of the Swamp was loathe to tell me much more than to head east past an island to a human town. At least she gave us a rope-and-timber raft along with a pole to propel it across the water, the only things remaining of some foolhardy kids who fell to something called a nightcrawler, the hollow skins of children killed in the swamp filled with all manner of vermin by the Lord of the Dead. Once we got to this town I vowed to learn as much as I could about this land as well as this Anton Misroi, Lord of the Dead. To be so vile as to use children...

What should have taken only a couple of hours took us until dawn to reach a small town called Marais d'Tarascon. The locals seemed a bit spooked by our appearance from the swamp and spoke in a creole language containing elements of High Mordentish and others I couldn't place. Their biggest worry was that we were voodan, loa, or some accursed beings created by the Lord of the Dead. Hearing that we were Mist-led travelers put them somewhat at ease. Their next question was whether we were spellcasters. Brianna admitted to her minor abilities and they promptly warned her that, by decree of the Lord of the Dead, only healing and necromancy were allowed in Souragne. I could honestly say I wasn't a spellcaster but I doubt they'd know, or care, about the differences between spells and psionics. If Anton Misroi had really declared this ban then he would likely not care either. This seemed to be why voodans were feared; depending on their patron loa they could easily access other schools of magic and bring the wrath of the Lord on them all. When I pressed how he could know, they wouldn't say.

We signed in to the Full Moon Inn in town and the girls decided to stay there, exhausted by our trip through the swamp. I was too wound up to sit around and decided to look around the place. One of the first things that struck me was that Souragniens are a mixed group of humans, some with pale skin and others with skin that ranges from light brown to ebony. Some have parentage of both and are called "mullatos." It's rare to see two different ethnic groups so well integrated in less cosmopolitan places. The only true divide is between those who own land and those who do not. Landowners, no matter how humble their assets or how poor they may actually be, are the aristocracy and expect to be treated as such. Those who do not own land are treated as little more than slaves, and some actually are slaves. Nominally slaves are to be treated with a certain dignity but behind closed doors and away from peers I don't doubt for a moment there's no limit to what slave owners do.

Personally I find it repugnant and infuriating. More than once today I lost control of my temper and lashed out verbally at those abusing slaves, sometimes even intervening physically. In such a small town word quickly got around after just the first incident that I was more than willing to break certain rules of etiquette. And that I had "magical" swords that appeared out of nowhere. It didn't come to the point that I used actual psionic powers, but the temptation was there. Even my mind blades may have bought me serious trouble. Questions about whether I was lying when I said I wasn't a spellcaster have risen. Like I said, I doubt they know or care about the difference between magic and psionics. Both are supernatural powers and would likely draw attention from Anton Misroi however he learns about banned magic. Before I even have a chance to study who or what he is. My best guess is he's undead, but that's of little help in and of itself.

In the end I did mollify the majority by stating, actually rather honestly, that I had thought this would be a place to establish trade with but was reconsidering given how they treated their own. If any emotion is more potent than fear, it's greed. All at once the nobles and freemen alike began to vie for my goodwill. Perhaps moving a cell of the Shining Force in here as well is a good idea. In this place are secrets that lay hidden and I loathe the idea of the Fraternity of Shadows being left unopposed here. Not to mention pushing for the abolition of slavery, or running an underground to help them escape if necessary.

I retire for now, having been redirected to a larger town up north called Port d'Elhour. Maybe there I can find answers about Misroi and possibly even why we've been directed here. If needed I'll openly defy this ban on "magic" to find out the truth. Or search out a voodan who can help me. Provided the price isn't too high.
(End transcript)
"Money is the root of all evil...I think I need more money."
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