I have been busy over the last months traveling for the Prince. I have spent much of the winter in Lindur gathering information on the people, culture and their success against Manath. The Prince plans to compile this information and sell it to the western kingdoms. War is profitable. Death is coin. Since the fates didn’t seem to want to take me, I thought I might as well find some sort of profit in all this misfortune.
Archive for the ‘Campaign Logs’ Category
The true power of the crystals lies not in what wonders they can perform but in what atrocities they can compel a person to do. They are a tempting power. They make one desire to do things which one never thought to desire before. When I first fled from the temple in Mercan over two years ago, I had sworn solemnly two things. I would let nothing stop me in my pursuit of the true knowledge of the book I carried and that I would never tolerate those of the kind who had destroyed my father. I owed his memory that much, I thought. I had never assumed that I would thrust myself into a situation where I would need to compromise one of those principles for the other. Had I, I am certain that I would never have believed that I would compromise the latter for the sake of the former.
It has been months since I have had the courage to take up my quill and put my thoughts to words. My mind roils between rage and despair. The mother that I once loved has become nothing but hate to me. Her delusion and insanity has burned itself into my mind’s eye; sleeping or awake, I see nothing but her sobs and screams. It has drained my soul. If it were not for Crebain and Daidra, I am sure my soul would have already been won over to my tormentor. It is only the wit of my feathered friend and the kind understanding of my lover that have kept my hold on this last shred of sanity.
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The book has now made its purposes known. His purposes, I should say. He has offered me my own soul and I have taken his deal. I have been trapped by him for nearly three years of my life now. It would have been three years in twelve days of this writing. The worst part of this infernal bargain is that I knew it to be foul from the first day and since then I knew that I could not escape this fate.
After my time with Den in Doomsbridge had come to a close, I returned to the nation of Spaartha. I had some business in the libraries at Salynndra. My friends had been summoned to the city on other business and they tell me that they had something of an experience there. I have arrived now in Eregant, and ancient island city with a history both rich and dark. The city seems to suit me quite well. Before I chartered my ship to this island, I had spent some time with the druids in Mastillan.
30
Mar
Mauril’s Journal, Part 6
My entry this day will by necessity be brief. I have joined one of my companions and what can only be described as a horde of refugees into Ehrenland. I had heard much of this place - thought not much recently - and had long looked forward to visiting. I had, some time ago, learned their curious alphabet and their dialect. There is much to say in regards to this place and its interesting people but much of that can be found in other texts so I shall not waste ink here. I feel compelled to relate the events that preceded my arrival in Doomsbridge.
It never ceases to amaze me that I have been selected as some sort of hero. Almost as if I was chosen by the gods for this purpose. I rest now in the incredible city of Arcada. Never have a seen a city more dedicated to the gods, and thus to their beliefs and writings, in all of the Kingdoms. Equally as fascinating is Leonardo’s and the Vodan Steel Works. Though smithing was my father’s profession, the shaping of useless raw materials into a finely honed edge or a bulwark of defense interests me. But I have not set down here to write a companion’s guide to the city. I have taken myself from my studies and my wonder to relate the events following the summer of 194.
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I write you this letter from Queen’s Landing. I’ve just returned here from the Barony of Halswood in northern Staenland, after concluding the business your last letter requested my companions and I deal with.
28
Nov
Mauril’s Journal, Part 4
As I sit in the grey dungeon that has become my home over the past several weeks, I have come to two conclusions. The first is that this power that I have fated upon is dark and treacherous and it has no business being in the hands of any mortal. This is the very power of the gods, unrestrained. I have stared into the face of the divine and walked away with its glow and its stench. I am unfit to know such things, to be who I am.
10
Nov
Rath’s Letters, Part II.
More of Rath’s letters from the Grand Campaign.