3. Journal of Shane Andryl

Journal of Shane Andryl

  • S

    Well Rescue - Part 1

    "Have you heard from your husband already, Shane?" Rith's voice was calm and soothing as always, yet it betrayed the growing concerns. The knight shook her head lightly, looking at the ominous well in worry. Three weeks had already passed since they left. The first days she had still heard his voice through the magical link brought forth by the rings they wore, the symbol to their wedlock. Then all had fallen silent.

    "He still lives I am sure, so there still is hope, Rith. We must have faith in their success." The look in Rith's eyes told her the same things she herself feared. Three weeks were a long time, even for a venture such as the one they had left on. Her heart told her well enough that he still lived, but that was all. For all they knew, the whole group could be trapped somewhere, lost, or worse. It was the silence that worried her the most.

    It had been a large group to venture on. He had called upon the finest of the land to aid in venturing into the dark crypts, into the underground. The intent had been to find out what was causing the disturbances within the Norwick well, what had caused the wild magic to appear. The knight would have gone along herself, had not other pressing matters required her attention as well. She had relied on his safety in numbers, knowing the abilities of many that went along all too well. Sam, Belthor, Maythor, Gruff, the druid Davin, Braeth, the mysterious Kharbeh, Linah, Sasha and even the vile-hearted Yurana, the bard Adam, Bacelar and Nefiri had all been in their numbers. Surely that would account for something!

    "Perhaps we should go in and see for ourselves." Rith spoke out loud what the knight had been thinking herself. For a moment, the silence between the two remained. Then, the knight sighed deeply. "Aye, perhaps we should. It has been too long. I fear for their lives." She looked around for a small moment. The town was completely empty, save for Frago, who himself kept a respectful distance from the well, remaining to the back of his open air market. Jore stood quiet near the gates. Either he had not heard their conversation or did not wish to acknowledge. It did not matter. The two councilors to the Divine Shield exchanged a glance, both knowing what was to be. If they went, they would be alone. "I'll be at Fred's in prayer for a while." With those words, the paladin turned away. There was no more need to speak. They would prepare themselves, and leave.

    "You're intending to go down after them? If something happened to them, do you really think that just the two of you can manage?" The Peltarchian Senator Ayanie sat on the bench next to Rith upon her return, looking at her in disbelief. "I know Ayanie, but we have to try. For all we know they could be trapped down there, starving" Ayanie's face grew troubled as well, and though her heart was fearful, her will was strong. "Allright then, I'll come with you." The paladin merely nodded as she heard the words, glancing but briefly at the Senator. "Thank you Ayanie. We'll need all the help we can get." It were the only words she offered.

    The latest events in Jiyyd had thoroughly severed the good relations that the knight had shared with the senator. Ayanie looked at her both in trouble, discomfort, and slight anger at the situation at hand. Rith looked between the two a moment, then stood and left to prepare for her own. "Leave your problems for another time or solve them both. We have more pressing matters to attend to." The paladin knew that all too well. Ayanie's mastery of the Arcane would be sorely needed if they ventured forth. Many rumors had come from strong undead contructs, and drow had been sighted before. If they would encounter any of them, they would need all the strength available. "Very well. Let's set our differences aside for now, Ayanie. We can talk later. Yet we should talk soon." The senator responded with a light nod, uncertain for a moment. Then, she offered the paladin to speak on the matters now briefly, until the Dawnbringer would return.

    The discussion was heated. The paladin could at first scarcely believe the words spoken, and in disbelief had allowed her own words to become harsh. Yet in the end, both could at least reach a conscensus on their differences. With Rith returning, the discussion was ended sharply, both agreeing to set it aside for now for the common good. Their differences could not endanger the task ahead. Grudgingly, the knight accepted her presence with them in this venture. This one matter, this difference of thought, did not mean that the senator was to be shunned. She still saw the right ideals, still knew which path to take to further a cause of good intent. She was still Ayanie.

    "May Helm guard us all this day" The knight looked upon the crypt doors with mixed feelings. The dangers that lurked beyond were unknown, yet the rumors bore no good tidings. Chances were high that none of them would return with their lives. Yet they had to at least try. More lives than their own were perhaps at stake, if they could be found at all. Determined, the three looked upon the dawning sun one more time. Then, the old rusted gate cracked open, and they stepped into the darkness below…

    The magic wards on the door were still intact. Tarian had spoken of it being the entrance to caverns below the crypts, where evil lay that was so unspeakable they had warded the door to keep everyone out. Yet it was where they had to have passed through. The 3 had hoped the wards would have been lifted, yet their hopes had not been answered. "A splendid way to start this venture already" The paladin muttered, turning for the exit again. "Tarian had a key to this door. Let me check if he still has it. Perhaps he has merely unlocked it for them."

    But Tarian did not have it. He had given it to the others, and there was no copy of the single key that could bypass the wards. Once again, fate was against them. They would need to venture into the old crypts themselves, where a lich was told to reside, and find another way. Yet fortune was still present as wel, as the ranger Shyrae crossed her path on her return, and upon hearing of the expedition decided to grant her bow in aid. The help was more than welcomed. Instead of just herself and the Dawnbringer, four would now try their chances.

    "Trap!" Shyrae's warning came too late. Allready, the knight had felt the stone under her foot shift away, filling the hallway with poisonous gas. "Splendid. Just splendid." The knight muttered again. Traps had never been her strong point. She'd need to learn to watch the signs of their presence better if they were to undertake more of these ventures. If… "Shyrae, you walk first. At least your eyes see something here."
    Coughing as the gas burned her lungs, she moved on. The poison would wear off soon enough, and the others didn't look like they had breathed anything of the gas themselves. A minor misfortune that would prove to be only a small trouble. Yet they could not afford it, and they all knew it well. They would need to spare every bit of strength they had, and in doing so, traps as this could wear them down too soon. Slowly they moved on, allowing Shyrae the time to look, and warn.

    "Nothing. Only deeper darkness. But all for the better perhaps. I could hear the water flow below" Shyrae climbed over the edge again, aided by the others. Quietly, the knight untied the rope, placing it back in her pack. It would have been too easy, no doubt. If they had had another length of rope they might have made it. Now, nothing else remained but to continue and find another way down.

    Dust and small rocks tumbled down from the ceiling as the ground shook underneath them. "We must hurry. These tremors are getting too frequent. Soon enough this whole place might collapse on us." Quickly, they darted past the charred remains bones once living. The boneling constructs and devourers had been troublesome, but not unstoppable. The statue in the middle of the room however, did worry them immensely. It looked like it was breathing, it's eyes followed their every move. Yet it remained immobile, as if awaiting something. None of them wished to find out what it was. With haste, they rushed past it into the hallway on the other side.

    The passage deeper in the crypts was right before them, blocked by rubble. The tremors had caused more damage than they had expected already. For a moment they reviewed their options. Then, the peace was disturbed again. The shadows around them appeared less than harmless as they slowly came to live. Red piercing eyes opened as shadowy claws and teeth protruded and gasped at them. Ayanie let out a faint cry in fear. Shyrae backed away, her bow being of no use against the misty talons. Quickly, the Dawnbringer grasped her symbol, calling forth Lathander's might to at least hold them off, while the knight lunged forward. Soon the fiends retreated back to where they came from, and the shadows stirred lifelessly once more. The ground shook again for a moment. Quickly, with combined efforts, they cleared the passage and ventured deeper below.

    "Blocked!" The tremors had collapsed parts of the ceiling, blocking their way further. "Great. Now what?" They would have to head back to the upper floor and find another way, meaning they would need to pass the stone being again. They'd been lucky so far. None of them felt like trying their luck too far. "Let me try." Ayanie's voice broke the moment's silence, swallowing away her fears of the place. "I know how to alter my form. Perhaps as an Umberhulk I can move some of these rocks aside." They agreed, stepping back to allow Ayanie the necessary space. A few incantations later, a low growl echoed through the halls of the ancient crypts. The knight averted her eyes from the beast for a moment. Although quite used to these kinds of Arcane spells by now, she still held a distaste for them, they still made her stomach turn uneasy. It was extremely helpful for now, but still, she could but scarcely understand how anyone would even wish to become such a beast.

    Quickly, the beast that was Ayanie set to work. With feral strength, the claws pushed the heavy rocks aside, slowly but certainly creating a passage for the rest to pass through. The corridor was ridden with traps, and each tried their best to avoid them.

    The knight felt it as they moved further. A strong evil source was near, stronger than the taint that was all around, gradually increasing as they ventured on. A moment later, Shyrae alerted them all to a halt. The corridor ended into a large room. They peered inside to learn the threat that lay ahead. "Remnant" Rith uttered the word with hatred, holding Lathander's symbol tight. For a moment, the Dawnbringer and the Helmite exchanged glances. Then they both charged forward to put the fiend to rest.

    "I wonder how the others passed here" The 4 stood silent for a moment, examining the iron bars that blocked the way beyond. Indeed it seemed impossible for the others to have gone passed it without leaving permanent damage. But Bottesini was a strong mage. Perhaps he had been able to use his knowledge of the Arcane to guide them through. It did not matter to them. Shyrae pointed out heavy tracks at the other side of the gates, proof of a large group passing by. The beast Ayanie growled, attacking the bars with all the strength the magical muscles gave. A few moments later, they had a hole large enough for them to fit through. With a few soft words, Ayanie cancelled the spell that had given her shape, returning to her normal self. "If it is indeed her normal self" The knight shrugged lightly, not speaking the thoughts out loud. With all these mages and their Arcane tricks, you never knew.

    They wandered through the dank halls for hours, trying their best effort to follow the trail ahead. Time and again the trail faded, only to be picked up again a bit furher. The crypts seemed endless, and it's dangers even more. But finally, after hours of battle with the constant plagues of undead and traps around, they found it, the passage to even lower parts. Tired and hungry they decided to make camp. Surely, it must already have been night already above ground, or morning even. They didn't know, and didn't quite care either. At least they were on the right track.

    _"Dead magic"_Rith spoke out loud what the others had feared. The passage they had found had opened up into a section of caverns of large caverns, leading them away from the ruined maze of crypts above. They had made their way into the unknown Underground. The knight nodded silently, grasping her blade tighter. "We'll need to be extra carefull now. We cannot afford to waste our strengths when our prayers can no more be heard." Ayanie's face contorted in light fear. "If… If my spells won't help, then... " All remained silent for a moment, understanding all too well what she meant. Nothing, no spells to aid them from behind, no prayers of healing if battle grew dire. Only what already was appeared to remain. The knight uncapped a small vial, one of Vroka's light healing brews, and set it to her lips. Nothing again. The brew was bitter and cold to drink, but that was it. The warmth it would give that aided in healing wounds was gone. "Not even this will work. Try to avoid battles if they are not needed. We cannot turn back now." All nodded. This could prove troublesome. The fleshling constructs that lay defeated had been a minor problem to their blades. But what else was to be encountered? "Wait here one moment. I'll be right back." Quickly, Ayanie turned back to the passage from where they had come, away from the dead caves. Rith looked around at the charred remains of the undead priests. "At least Lathander's light still holds them off. Not even this dead zone can stop that." Again, the knight nodded at her words in silence. It would take more than just dead magic to stop Lathander or Helm from exacting their will upon the undead. Helm's watchful eyes would show Lathander where to shine His light in this vast underground if needed. Shyrae took a few steps forward, searching for the remainder of the trail, and motioned forward. "We'll need it. More undead are a bit further. Their smell is all-present." Behind them, they heard a soft growl, and the shuffling of flesh upon stone. They turned quickly, only to see not Ayanie, but a huge troll return from the passage. It growled lightly to them, looking around with fearful eyes. "Atleast I won't be so useless for now." The knight bit away the unease again at the sight of the huge monster. This time, she was right. This way, her chances of survival were vastly improved. "Allright, let's make haste." Quickly they set forth, ready to dispatch the sighted undead from their existence.

  • S

    Orc Truce

    "Thank you all for coming. As you know Vroka and several of our children have been kidnapped by the Orcs." The paladin looked upon the Council Speaker in shock. She had just barely made it in time for the called meeting, having excused herself from her work in Peltarch for it. Seeing the looks upon many of the faces gathered she was not the only one in unknowing of it. She knew the meeting had been called in regards to the Orcs, but this… It couldn't have happened long ago.

    "The Orcs have demanded a pink orc's head, a pink orc from Jiyyd they say." Lens Undon, the town's Council Leader, continued the explanation after the first murmurs died out. Immediately, all stirred again. A pink Orc? In Jiyyd? At first, none grasped it, yet the paladin knew as well as others who was meant by it. Bruno… The thought of the name alone made her stomach turn.

    "They say we, or rather he, broke the agreement to battle only in the fields and declared open war on them. Would not listen to their representative and in fact cut his head off and chucked it over their gate with a note. I would have thought this was typical Orc treachery but other news makes me suspect there may be an element of truth in it"

    The knight listened on as anger rose upwards. She felt the calming touch of her husband's hand on hers. He liked this as much as she did. The paladin remained silent. Zak was called to explain. He'd been there with Bruno when the events occurred. The knight had already heard some of his words, and knew how ashamed he now was of even having been there. She remained silent, listening as the brave hin stepped forth, shame apparent.

    "Jiyyd wants war with you Orcs!" The Council roared. Those had been Bruno's words to the Orcs when he had, according to the explanation, cut off the Orc messenger's head and tossed it over the gates, calling them cowards. It was not surprising that the Orcs had responded in kind. This murderous fool had broken the truce that had been gained through hardship and the blood of many. The truce had been sorely needed by the town, Jiyyd was on it's last breath against the Orcs, only a handful proud defenders remaining. And now this had been broken by the act of one not even coming from the Commonwealth, speaking words in name of the town he had no right to speak, leaving Jiyyd to suffer the consequences. One more crime on his list of atrocities.

    The meeting stirred on as more was told. A Peltarch Senator had been along with them, the description all too clear to the paladin. Sadness came over her at the knowledge. A black clad white haired elven woman had aided the Orcs in kidnapping the children as well. She knew of only one to match the description given: Tassabra. They would need to be wary. Options were called for, questions raised if Bruno's head should be delivered to the Orcs as demanded. Yet she knew as well as the others it would not help. It would only show the weakness of Jiyyd to the Orcs, tell them that they could get away with anything if they just took the children.

    The children… perhaps it was fortunate that Vroka had been taken with them. At least there was a kind heart near to calm them and give them strength. She could only pray they were still alive in the Stronghold. Bruno could be dealt with later. They needed to focus on them now. All out assault was out of the question. They would be dead before Jiyyd's defenders would even breach the gates. Perhaps a small group covered by the guise of arcane magics would be able to sneak in and retrieve the prisoners. Options were called for, considered, but the planning progressed too slow. Day turned in to night as the meeting erupted into nothing more than a squabble over this Bruno. The knight could not believe the words spoken there, from Sam even at times. Time and again order was called for in an attempt to remain with the children. The knight could feel the anxiety of the commoners growing, their fears being worded as night progressed. The children would be dead before a solution was reached!

    The diviner of the Emerald Circle was called for to discover the location of the children: deep within the Fortress. The battle would be hard if it came down to it, and surely the Orcs would be ready for it. The situation seemed endless. Then, Sam spoke of how the Orc Leader's brother had been caught and kept in chains in the inn's basement. Perhaps he could provide a solution, or at least be forced into telling of any other means to gain access to the Stronghold unseen. The Orc was brought forth.

    At first he was questioned, but the Orc was too proud to be willing. Merin tried to weaken his resistance with magics, but his will was strong. This Orc did not fear death, and saw himself above them, only fearing his brother's wrath. He would be a hard one to deal with. Then, the option came. The Orcs followed strength, and the strongest lead. Yet in their own dark ways they knew honor as well. In their own customs, they would not break a bond of honor forged between warriors. If the Orc was to challenge his own brother and win, he would gain control over the Orcish forces. The Orc shrugged at first, then listened as reason came to him. Apparently he liked the idea of being the one to lead his brethren instead of his brother. He would be the one to command, not the one to bow to others. Sam made sure he would understand. Once again, and agreement was made. He would call his brother to Grut Mak, strengthened in mind and body. He would defeat him, and become the new leader to the Orcs. In return for Jiyyd's help in acquiring the position, he would order the children and Vroka released, and the truce reinstated. The paladin was not in liking of the deal, yet they had no choice. The enemy needed to be trusted for the sake of the innocent. Once again, a pact with the Orcs was made in the dead of night...

    "Helm forgive me." It was with mixed feelings that the knight cast the Guardian's blessings upon the Orc. Here, Helm was needed to strengthen His enemy for the further good of innocents, of children. The Orc gloated as his muscles strengthened and his mind grew a solid wall. Helm would see him through, and what Helm could not provide, miss Lilly's own prayers would. The mystical armor called forth by the Keeper of the Emerald Tower finished the incantations invoked. His brother would be no match for him. The paladin prayed that they were right in the Orcs's motives, that indeed he would honor them high enough to make good on his part of the bargain. She drew her blade just in case.

    With loud growls and cries of war the two Orcs clashed. Sickened, the knight watched along with the others. Here they were again, for the second time they decided who held the might amongst the Orcs. The Orcish Leader was no match against the prayers of Jiyyd. He fell swiftly to his brother's blows.

    The Orc let go of a loud warcry as his brother fell down to the ground. Quickly, he gathered his fallen brother's remains, his armor and sword as symbol of his new gained power. The paladin turned towards the Orc, not feeling the same cheerfulness the others did as the battle was won. Still, she was wary of treachery on this strengthened Orc's behalf. Yet he held true to his own honor, affirming the truce between the two parties. The fights on the plains would be allowed to continue, but no more at one another's gates. And the prisoners, they would be released.

    It was with mixed feelings that the paladin watched as the children returned home. The Orcs' feast drums sounded far into the night. Soon, they would again turn into drums of war, she realized that all too well. But until then, Jiyyd was safe. And foremost, they would have time to strengthen their defenses as well. Jiyyd could breathe again for the coming months.

    A soft smile showed as she aided in showing the children home. Now, all that remained was Bruno, and Sam…

  • S

    ((edit: double posted))

  • S

    Murder in the Narss

    “Kill Bottesini. He is in Norwick - Mysterious shadow.”

    The knight trembled as the whole world crushed down upon her. The words were short, but all too clear. It had been him they’d been after, him that had been marked to die, not the respected Chancellor of Norwick, Belthor Troff. Cold anger came over her as she roughly dismissed the note Belthor was holding up to her, found in the mines, covered in blood. His body lay lifeless in her arms, blackened by the scorches of lightning. No more did she feel him near, no more did his voice call out in the silence of the night. He was gone, and with every breath they took she could feel him slipping farther away from the last bonds that held his soul bound to this world. ”Very well then. War is on.” The words were cold. No more could she care for them. The Black Hand had made it’s move, and now her husband was dead. Enraged, she cried out over the Nars, for all to hear. ”YOU HEAR THAT? YOU'LL HAVE YOUR WAR !!!”

    Without a further thought the knight moved on. They had to reach Peltarch soon, before all would be lost. Her body ached with the pain of his loss, his pain, the pain of his own demons facing him as they tried to lure him into the afterlife. He would not hold to life much longer, and she knew it well. Belthor was right, they had to stay close together lest they would not reach Peltarch at all. Yet she couldn’t care, not anymore. Whatever would hold them from their path to the grand city would either run away or fall in trying. Behind her, she could hear the others hurry to keep pace. Jaroo, Belthor, Gruff and even that power hungry mage Isaac… all were silent.

    The argument before seemed so futile now. She had been angry at him, tried to make him understand why he’d been wrong in traveling with Bruno into the deep Rawlins woods. He understood all too well, but his stubborn neutrality had nearly brought them to fight had Belthor not come by. The discussion had continued in the Chancellor’s office as they tried to make him see the effects his actions might have caused. Months of work in discussing politics, guild allegiances and even Norwick could have been destroyed by the mere fact that he was friend to the Chancellor, and husband to her own. The argument had stopped as swiftly as it had begun when first Gruff and then the druid Jaroo requested Belthor’s attention as well. Then, -he- had come…

    They hadn’t seen him enter, and only Helm could have known how long he’d been there with them, listening to all that had been said. Yet there he was, his clothes dark, his expression warning them at once of trained discipline and experience. ”Pardon me but do ya have tha right ta break in my office? I think not.” Belthor did surely not appreciate this sudden intrusion into his own quarters, and neither did the rest of them. Instinctively, the knight’s hand went to her sword, loosening the strings of peace attached that held it in it’s scabbard, a custom of her homeland she stubbornly kept to. The man just smirked at them, replying in a calm manner that betrayed a strong mind. _”The contract said one to kill not four. I think i got screwed.”_ For a slight moment the four stood there, watching the man’s movements. ”Well what must be done must be done if you excuse me.” With those words he calmly rose, lunging out at Belthor. They all responded in kind. He would not be allowed to fulfill his contract and end the Chancellor’s life. Not while one loyal to Helm was near. The assassin quickly saw his mistake in making the effort, making good his escape out of the office and out of the town itself. They all set out to pursue him, quickly followed by Gruff and Isaac, who had been alerted to the battle inside. The chase ended at the old mines. The Dwarves had driven the bandits out before, yet the mines itself were not completely safe yet, as some still sought refuge within the vast tunnels underneath. Surely it would still take several weeks for all to be routed. A perfect place to hide.

    How foolish it had been for all of them to believe the Chancellor had been the mark. Even Bottesini himself had not seen it, nor had she. It was logical, the assassin had showed in Belthor’s own office, and the Chancellor himself had been the first target. It was him they were bent on guarding while they set foot within the mines, not Bottesini. They met with several remnants of the old bandit opposition, and with some creatures that had taken refuge within the mines. Yet it was the encounter beyond that alerted them to the true extent of the attempt: Black Hand. They came from the shadows quickly, trying to halt them and no doubt take their lives. Their presence in the mines was proof enough. They were behind it, but why? Why would the Hand be interested in taking the life of the Chancellor? Their goals were totally different, their aim on Jiyyd and on the gem! The only reason the knight could think of was Belthor’s allegiance to the Legion. He was general to it after all. They set forth in hopes of finding either the assassin or any other of them they could capture for questioning.

    The first one they saw. The knight had almost stepped upon it as she heard the calls from behind. ”Trap.” She froze instantly, allowing her husband to look at them before they set forth. Something must have gone wrong, because suddenly the halls were filled with poisonous gas. She set a foot forth as she tried to pull him out of it. The small movement under her foot alerted her instantly, the tiny click that gave way as a small twine crushed underneath her. It was too late. The lightning struck an instant later. The shock of electricity caught her shield, her sword, the plate she wore. It bounced off, guided by the metal, and sizzled forth. Then she heard his cry as the bolt hit straight in the chest… It was too late. Instantly she dropped her sword, trying to save his life as he twitched from the force upon him. Belthor and Jaroo dashed forth with inhuman swiftness, uttering prayers faster than they’d ever done before. But it was too late. The damage done had been too great to keep him alive. While the poisonous cloud lifted, along with it came his final breath.

    The Black Hander gloated as he saw what occurred. First, he tried to lure them forth, towards their own death no doubt. Yet the knight felt no urge to continue the fight. Not anymore… She took his lifeless body into his arm, turning to leave the tunnels. Yet behind her she could soon hear arguments and words being spoken, as the Black Hand captain was speaking to them. First he denied knowledge, claiming they were there to mine for themselves, yet the lies were certain to them. Obviously he gloated, and his words were only meant to allow his own men to draw near and surround them. Belthor had enough of it as well, and with Moradin on his lips he lunged forward. The enemy was dealt with harshly, none of the Hand sent forth were allowed to look further upon this life. The knight herself calmed only when they once again saw the stars in the open skies above the Nars.

    ”They can have their war…. It has been enough.” The words rang cold in Tyr’s halls, as they waited on the Head Priestess to come forth. This time, the Hand had gone too far. Now, even her own husband was marked as sacrifice to further their own goals. It could not, would not be allowed to continue. His pain grew stronger, and her own heart grew colder as she felt him drifting farther away. The words of friends and allies were comforting, yet it all seemed so futile now. For what it was worth, the grief of the others was sincere, at least she found comfort in that. She closed her eyes, uncaring for the tears she could no longer control, holding him closely towards him. With her final thought, she prayed Helm to watch over him, to aid him in keeping hold of this life.

    ”Oh no!” They looked up as Lady Daisy’s voice sounded through the halls, compassion showing. The knight rose to her feet at her presence. She asked the Tyr’s aid to his rescue, as had been her part too many times already, yet The Priestess’s voice cut her off, her words driving the dagger that wounded the paladin’s heart. ”I cant raise him….something holds his soul to the Afterlife.” The proud knight’s world collapsed as the words came. Her face paled, all thoughts fled from memory as the icy cold of death clasped her heart, aching every vein as if she herself was dying. It couldn’t be! Here they were with but a moment’s time left, at the mercy of Tyr’s grace. And it was forfeit? He could not return, being held back? Her mind screamed out to Helm in pain. ”No…” It was all she could utter. Nothing remained. Defeated she listened to the Tyrean. His soul was held back by a vile force, a presence so dark Tyr could not reach it. Someone would need to venture beyond life itself, and break the bond. Someone would have to die…

    ”Whatever the cost, m'lady. Speak and it will be done, Helm willing.” The knight was determined. Not even death itself would be able to keep her away from this. She would not allow him to be held in death by the mere whim of some unknown presence. Daisy’s words of warning meant nothing anymore. Aye, her own soul might be lost if failure was upon her. But then so be it. Without a further thought she stepped through the portal, the small rift created by Tyr’s will, allowing passage between the realms of the living and the dead.

    The knight needed a few moments to regain her senses and focus on her new surroundings. Faint, she noted the others coming as well. It strengthened her own resolve even more, warmed her knowing that those she had come to know as friend and ally were ready to face death and damnation itself as well in order to save a friend. Even this Isaac… the knight could hardly understand him. His heart was proof enough of his own egotistical desires, and she could bare no trust to him. Yet again he proved himself willing to aid beyond normal measures. He had spoken on her behalf when she had struck down Keeper Myell unwillingly, and had stood aside when they had ventured to close the portal that had been spouting the Slaadi. Even this man was able to perform actions of unselfish good intent. Perhaps she was mistaken in him after all.

    ”What the…nature is run by dwarven kin in an inn?!” Jaroo’s wondrous outburst was almost amusing had the circumstances not been so dire. Here they were, on the threshold of the life beyond, there where all lost could finally find oblivion: an inn. It was almost unbelievable, it all seemed so unreal, a trick played upon the minds of the living to deceive and torture, yet here they were. And before them stood the beast, a boned creature towering high above them, welcoming them to death, and a drink?

    The knight scowled upon the sight, calling upon Helm’s might to purge it from their sight. The words of banishment, the power summoned by them, they were strong. In their mortal realms they would have destroyed most of the unliving without a further glimpse. Yet now she felt weak, Helm’s might far away, as if unable to penetrate the mystical barriers that surrounded the place. They were in Cyric’s realm, and here, only the Lord of death and darkness ruled. The creature laughed at the motion, and in sickening kindness invited them further. It even pleaded them to be nice, as he’d already dealt with ”a bunch of bandit and Black Hand wannabees someone just killed.”.

    The knight roared at the obvious insult. ”Where is he?” The question was harsh, stern, direct. There was no time for idle talk. Each breath spent here diminished their own chances of return, and weakened Bottesini’s chances of salvation. At first the creature claimed ignorance, then it claimed he’d given himself to the abyss itself. It couldn’t be true, she knew it. It was drawing for time no doubt, keeping them here, yet it soon saw it was to no avail. The paladin was steadfast, determined. The beast pointed up the stairs to the back. "I tell ya i saw him go by this way"

    Without further thought she rushed on, followed by the others. The dark force at bay soon became apparent. Creatures neither living nor dead were called forth to stop them, to hold them off and draw them into their own pitiful existence. It wouldn’t help. Strengthened by resolve and faith, they were dealt with. She scowled lightly at the sight of the quivering Isaac, hiding behind a plant, but it did not matter.

    The shade summoned lay destroyed before them, the last whiffs of etherealness spreading out as they uncovered a tiny shard. The knight knelt down to grasp it, holding it in the palm of her hand. A feeling of warmth came over her as she saw the visions within: he was there, her husband, the one they had defied death itself for to save him. It was his shard, the representation of his very soul as he clinged to the last fringes of life. A moment later, all blurred around them, and Tyr’s halls opened before their eyes.

    ”Have you found his soul?” Daisy’s voice called out both in hope and worry. They could not have lasted much longer. Death would have claimed them soon enough, and she had feared for their lives. Quietly, the paladin offered her the shard, allowing Tyr’s work be done. At least for him it could be done… a sudden chill came over the paladin as she dismissed the thought. Helm had forgiven her, and only time could tell the future. She smiles softly, allowing tears to run freely as life’s breath came to him once again.

  • S

    Victory in Defeat: Continued

    ”Perhaps it's that what bothers me most…. How can I even find the strength to continue, knowing all that I do care for are in pain with each step I take? Yet I walk on in His name… “

    Her thoughts wandered off to Darian. She had walked him to his grave in Helm’s name. A few words would have been all that had been needed to save a brother’s life, to keep him from the path that would lead to death. They had remained unspoken, and in exchange she had offered him words of self-righteous wisdom, the knowledge that it was indeed Helm’s will as he had known all too well. His death had been foretold, his sacrifice needed to destroy what was in being, to save another’s life. She had watched him fall, and her own hand had finished the task. His will had been done. The elven woman, the one she had heard him express his undying love to just the night before, she could not understand what drove them. And neither could Frolly. The knight didn’t blame them. How could they understand?

    Frolly… for months she had tried to understand what was going on in the poor hin’s mind. They had met long ago, the sadness of her tales of slavery had won the young knight’s heart. She had offered to take her under her guard, to make certain that such harm would not befall her again. She had offered her freedom from her bonds, and with that, allowed her a chance at life. Frolly could not understand the meaning of it, she could not grasp the reality of what freedom brought with it. The knight had been forced to offer her work in her guard so that she would not try to seek the one she called Master then. Yet in doing so, she had also offered her the freedom to do as she pleased, to wander with whom she cared for, to see life from a new perspective. At first, the young knight had not been all too pleased in seeing her together with Mallis, yet Sam had assured her of Mallis’s good intent. And as weeks had turned into months, she noticed Frolly’s joyfulness, her caring when the hin-lad was around. She had no right to keep them apart, no right to take away the sparkle of joy that Frolly had apparently found. So she had stepped into the shadows, allowing her the freedom of making judgement of her own life, which ever way it would turn. The poor hin had been enslaved by master’s bonds long enough.

    She had noticed Frolly’s change, her look of jealousy, defiance even when she passed. The words came as well, eventually. In her eyes, she was slave to Helm as much as the hin herself had been slave to her own masters. Perhaps the hin was right. After all, she had pledged her life towards His cause. Yet she had done so willingly, free of choice, not bound by balls and chains. Frolly’s words had grown past defiance the night Darian died. Helm was worth nothing towards her, she despised His word, His will. She despised her. The knight had been done reasoning with her. Time and again words had driven daggers deep into her heart, yet this time no more. If such was the choice that Frolly had made, then so be it. At least, her path in life was clear.

    ”That is our gift and our burden… He makes us strong, but we must keep faith, be of strong will. Especially of us, those strong in His faith, leaders, we must remain strong....or strive to do so.” Ah, how well she knew the truth in Kanen’s words. They were more than just servants to Helm’s cause. They were His knights, His tool in spreading His will. It was but normal that many could not understand what it was that drove them forth, that they could not see the reason behind the actions taken. His will be done… Not even her own husband understood her completely, yet she did not blame him. She blamed none for it. ”Leaders.” That was her strength. Not the arm that held the sword towards His cause, but the mind and will that planned, the heart that forged alliances. The knight looked up again at brother and friend, the path clear once again. ”Perhaps I'll look into those some more. Norwick needs us. At least there, Helm will work His ways….” She smiled softly at him, and he returned it likewise.

    Her work was not done yet, much was still left unfinished. Helm’s aid was needed in Norwick, and through the Order she would play her part in granting it. The cultists were driven back for now, yet their threat would surely remain. And the Black Hand… she still held her guard against them, the vow up to now unbroken. She would need to look further into that matter as well. Through this, Helm’s name would live on, and she would remain His tool in working His ways. The lone rock, the bearer of burden uncalled for.

    ”May Helm continue to watch over and protect you, Shane of Helm.” Perhaps it was so. She had not failed. Her own was nothing compared to the greater cause. She had been the tool that allowed the work to be done, if not through her, then through others. It did not matter if the glory of success was not hers. Such was not what Helm required of His knights to begin with. Personal gain meant nothing, only the fact that it was done.

    Quietly, she dropped to her knee again after Kanen left, finding strength once more in the words that were to His grace.

  • S

    Victory in Defeat

    ”You feel like what?” Kanen looked upon her with gentle eyes, nothing in his manner showing the experienced paladin underneath. Yet the concern was all too clear. She averted his eyes, looking instead at the dull necklace in her hand. It was still stained in blood, her own blood, crusted and dried upon His mark. Her armour, the armour He had gifted, the one to carry His light… it lay besides His altar. She had not touched it, she didn’t even feel like looking upon it. She was unworthy of it now.

    ”You are His Champion now,” The words from before still rang clearly in her head. Now she yearned to cry out, to tell Kanen how false his words had been. She was none but a Champion of death, and of failure. Here she was, beaten down, broken, in doubt. Kanen had given her his charge in the false pretense that she would be able to accomplish what he had left behind. After all, she had always been strong both in mind and body. Helm had made her so, and His grace was upon her… But she wasn’t, not anymore. With each step further upon the road, pain drove deeper. With each blow of her sword, strength faded. Yet His will never failed.

    ”I feel like tossing this far away…” A soft smile came over her the moment the words were said. Helm could have taken His grace from her that very instant. Quietly, for a fleeting moment, she even longed for it, craved for the peace of eternal darkness. But He didn’t, for He knew the heart within. With each step taken, each failure along the way, she grew stronger within, determined to fulfill the vow she had quietly taken so many years ago. To walk in His stead, to fulfill His duty, to stand against all that would bring harm. And to carry the burden that was His. Now, she understood what had before been but mere text, mere teachings from an old cleric to a young child. Helm was not merely the rock that would hold the water at bay, not merely the Eye to behold, the Guardian to protect. He carried the burden of all that was right, for he would not waver. He would stand and continue when all others would fail, unmoving from His path. And in doing so, He would bear the scorn of others upon Him, the blame of failure when in fact only He had succeeded. It had been so in the Time of Troubles, when His duty caused the greatest harm of all in the eyes of others. It was His burden, His blame to carry ever since, while there was none to blame at all. He had stood, and the shame of success was His. And now she saw the truth in it herself, why He had not abandoned her when with every breath she had feared He would. She was strong with Him. Now, the burden was hers.

    She did not wait for any reply. The answer was already known. Calmly, she hung the necklace back where it belonged. ”I know well enough I will never do so. I will sooner be back there again in His name.” The faint smile lingered. Here they were, no more pride to hold either one at bay for this time. None the champion nor the fallen, merely servants to the same cause. Brothers in faith, but foremost, friends. ”Beware those thoughts.” She looked upon him, and saw in his eyes how well he understood her. He had been there as well. Yet Helm’s watchful eyes still lingered upon him even now. Cormyrean pride soon rose upwards again as she took in a deep breath, knowing the truth to her own existence all too well. ”I've pledged my life to His cause, Kanen. It will be forfeit before such thoughts become true.”

    It had been a tough few weeks before. Each day had been one of careful maneuvering, plotting ahead so that the charge would not be lost. She had dealt with the duties of rebuilding the sacred Order for the further good of Narfell. Alliances had been forged to withstand even the test of time. Sacrifices had been made to the extremes, and the battles fought had been harder than ever before. Too many times the light had been granted once more to her own eyes, too many times she had seen the sacred walls of Tyr’s halls after the sweetening darkness of death had come to her. Yet it had all been for the greater good. The bandits had been driven back, the Dwarves allowed to build their hold, the cultists defeated.

    The knight took in a deep breath as Kanen continued to reason with her. ”Your death caused the gathering of a force large and strong enough to reduce the cultist menace here, at least for a time. Your friends gathered to save you,” At least in that he spoke truth. It had not been in vain. Her tunic had draped the gates of Jiyyd, covered in blood, in insult and offense. And all had rallied to the cause. With the mights of allies and faiths combined, they had succeeded where she had failed. Through her own demise, the threat was gone. If only that guard… and Adam.

    She shrugged inwards. How mysterious His ways worked indeed. To be called out at His own temple by those heretics, to overcome all but one. The cry at the gates had come swiftly, and when she had arrived there, sword still in hand and stained in blood, Adam Bromley was there as well. But the guard wasn’t. All that remained had been a small puddle of blood along the way. Even though the bard she hardly even knew did not know what had happened, he had stepped outside with her, towards the ruins of Minthas Rhelgor. With Helm’s guard and his songs of valor, they had followed the trail, until the foulness that walked the ruined earth blocked their path once more. Both the dead and the foul heretic hearts of the living were laid to rest, the dreaded shades that were summoned to stop them were sent back to their own realms, the message made clear that no matter how hard they would try, Helm’s might would not waver. They would fail, and Helm alone would remain, vigilant as ever against their cause.

    There, they had made their mistake: they had fallen back towards the gates, certain that the opposition had been halted for now. None that had crossed their path had remained standing save one, and this one had been sent away by them with the clear message to stop, or perish. The man had been Black Hand, a clear sign of their support in liege with these heretics. He was to inform his masters that none they sought would be given, that merely defeat would be their part. Adam’s voice was coarse, his fingers numb from both battle and song. And the knight had been drained to the point where only hope would keep them standing. They rested there, and prayed for the guidance so harshly needed. Then, without reflecting, they had ventured in again, bent on retrieving the guard.

    It had been their downfall. The certainty of enemies gone had lowered the proud knight’s vigilance, and they had allowed themselves to fall into the trap. Perhaps they should have run, perhaps they should have tried for the ruin doors, yet both were hardened in spirit and heart by their earlier success and the courage that drove one another on. The first wave was quickly dispensed off as both remained standing back to back, dropping each heretic that came to the ground bleeding. Yet then they came, the dreaded shadows called to life by the utterence of a mere word. They were surrounded by 6 of them, these foul creatures that lived for none but death: Shades. The knight had called upon Helm’s will to hold them back, yet it had been of no use. They had fought for their lives with the last grain of courage and strength that each could muster, until the darkness that bit their flesh came over them, draining the last drop of life away.

  • S

    [quick note left at the home of Shane and Bottesini, left on the dining table]

    _My love,

    However hard it grieves me, I must go. It pains me that I cannot take the time to even properly say goodbye, yet the blame upon myself weighs hard, and I must face this now.

    You will hear soon enough of what transpired in Norwick. I cannot find the strength to explain the occurings to you myself, I am barely even able to comprehend them. Yet I cannot turn away from it. After all, we stand as an example to those around us. What example would I be to hide from the very laws that I myself have been upholding for all these years?

    I trust that the rulings of Norwick will be fair and righteous. Until I can be heard, I will remain at their disposal in the Temple of Lathander. I bid you not to come there, you should not need to face me as such. Until this blame is justified, I am not worthy of your kiss or smile.

    May Helm guard you, my love, and keep you safely from harm.

    Yours in heart and faith,

    Shane._

  • S

    Journal Entry #60 – Under Pressure

    Treason, betrayal, mistrust. So much comes to me these days. News of Black Hand operations, approaches made by them to friends, allies, commoners… everyone. They seek the gem, and they make it certain that the whole of Jiyyd knows. With each account of harassment, with each reported spy, the pressure grows. I await now, alone in the bonds that I myself have entrusted upon me, expecting a dagger from any dark corner that I may pass. They try to severe the bonds that exists between those that I have come to see as allies in this. Yet they will fail. Their precious gem is in safety, and I alone bear the secret to it’s whereabouts. As such, it will remain.

    Through all this, the duty of the Order now rests upon me. I am almost happy that rebuilding it is taking my attention away from these matters, even if it is for but a short time. I have spoken with the other Temples, and through this, a new alliance is being forged, one ready and able to stand against that for which the Order was meant.

    I have taken a room in Peltarch for the coming weeks. Although it pains me to be away from home and heart, it allows me to focus on these matters for now, while I lie in wait of the Hand’s next move, pondering my own with care. I have become both the politician to forge alliances, and the general to determine the next move. Trusted spies keep me informed of what I need to know, while old relations are being called on to seek out new information. Now, in the darkest hour, I know who my allies are. The next move will soon unfold, the time is almost right. It must be plotted carefully, each step considered over and over again. It cannot fail. Now, I am grateful for Garran’s lessons of old.

  • S

    Journal Entry #59 – The Pieces Lost

    The Black Hand grows more threatening with each passing day. They have been able to regain their strength, and they now remind us all of their threat with an eagerness that is even greater than was expected of them. Twice already have they found me, trying to take by force what they could not otherwise. I still remain, yet I pray Helm grants me the strength to complete the duty the Order has been given. It saddens me greatly to have learned that Master Lao has fallen to their hand, having set the call of duty above anything else. We can but pray they do not hold the part he was sworn to safeguard, yet all indications tell us they do.

    The staff itself is lost. The Featherlights have fought bravely, their fierceness unwavering, yet they as well have failed. Ulmar, Molar… They now but live on in our memories as the tribe tries to regain its strength. I curse this Black Hand for every foul deed that they have already done. They can and will not succeed. It cannot be allowed.

    A thief in the night has however proven to be a fortunate encounter. A thief in my own house even. It was clear what he was searching for, yet he has been caught, and the information gained from him has proven to be most interesting. For the first time in years, we may once more be able to strike against these villains. And this time, we will not be alone. The Featherlights have stated their own already, they will strike against them as well for having raided their homes. This time, the Hand has gone too far.

  • S

    [private letter to Kanen Hightower]
    _Kanen,

    It has been 5 years now since we first met near the fires of Norwick, and that day still remains as vivid as the ones to follow. You have been ally to me, brother in both faith and arms, and friend where it was needed. To this end, I must admit that your request weighs heavy on my heart.

    I know of the troubles that weigh on yours in these dire times, as well as you know of mine. At times, our Lord asks of us to endure more than any one would bear to hold. You have stood against it time and again, and as such I do understand your pain. Yet I must urge you to steel yourself against it, and find your path in life once again.

    To this end, I have given your request deep consideration. To be honest, Kanen, it were words I would have rather not heard. Throughout these years, you have lead the Order wisely, and have been an inspiration to many of our brothers. I but pray that this action will not lower their vigilance. Yet perhaps you are right, and I have no right in disallowing you the chance to get your own affairs in order once again.

    I will indulge you in your request, and try to steer the Order along the path that first Alannia, and now yourself have set out. Yet I will do so only on one condition, Kanen, and with the same honor that you have offered me in asking this, I ask of you to indulge me in it as well. I will only accept until such time when you deem yourself able again to continue on the true path, fit to be in charge once again.

    We have much to discuss over this and other matters. Therefore I invite you to share a meal at my table, so that we can speak freely on this. Until then I remain, in faith, at your service. May Helm guide you, Kanen, and grant you strength.

    With respectful greetings,

    [signed]
    Shane Andryl_

  • S

    Return of the Black Hand

    With a loud clang the pitcher shattered against the wall, the water spilling all over. “Gods be damned woman!” Laus was clearly upset, his face red in anger and panic. The paladin tried to remain calm before the commoner, folding her arms in reply to his outburst.

    He had come to her a few moments before, requesting a moment of her time, as he had matters to discuss concerning the Order. Of course, she had followed him to his store, curious as to why the commoner would need the Order’s attention. It had become all too clear too soon. At first, he had been most welcoming, offering her a drink while they would speak, remaining polite as ever towards her. She had politely accepted, allowing the man to open the conversation as to what matters weighed on his heart.

    “…have each come into possession of two extraordinary gems…Now, the way I see it, your two groups have no need of such fine gems...Why don't you sell me that ruby and then use the coin for a greater cause?” The paladin was shocked by his direct question. The gems… clearly he spoke of the gems that were part of the Gendebar Staff. But how in Helm’s name could he know of this? It had been kept a secret, not even her own husband knew of it’s existence. And yet here this commoner spoke freely of it, and even blatantly asked her to sell it? It could not be, unless…

    ”Good, it seems the rumor is true…” The smirk on his face alarmed her instantly, but it was too late. He had noticed her clear unamusement with the question. Instantly, the paladin steeled herself, looking calmly upon the man in front of her. He could not be allowed to know the location of the gem, or the fact that it truly existed. Clearly, he had a good sense of judgment, and she would need to hold her calm lest all would be betrayed.

    ”You see…” The man continued, obviously eager enough to get his hands on the gem. ”I had a very special customer once… An old acquaintance of yours.” The paladin remained calm, wondering who on earth the man was speaking off. ”A Miss Adela Cain….A dear and sweet girl to say the least...And one of your companions when you found those precious gems...” Adela! The knight roared inward at the mention of the name. So her suspicions had been true, clearly the man was partly guessing, Adela could not in the least have known about this, she had not been there. Unless… With slight shock, the truth fell upon the knight. Adela must be in league with the Black Hand. And this proved that the Black Hand knew. They would all need to be extremely watchful again. Calmly, the knight looked at the man again, careful to not let any movement betray her inner self.

    ”So.”, he continued, ”I figure that there is a good opportunity for both of us to prosper…Why don't you sell me that ruby at a more than fair price and use the proceeds for some greater cause?” The paladin strained to remain calm, every vein urging her to strike this man down and put him in chains. Yet he knew, and as such, he could prove valuable. ”Keep your friends close, but your enemies even closer.” The lesson had been wise before, and most true here. The paladin showed a faint smile towards him, speaking calmly. ”I have nothing to sell you, sir, at least not that of which you speak.” The man looked at her in surprise, as if he had been expecting her to just hand it over in exchange for coin. 25000 was a vast amount offered, but not even all the coin in Faerun would be enough to repay for the damage done by letting it out of the Order’s guard. Gradually, his surprise turned to sheer anger as he continued to try and persuade her. Yet she would not respond to him, she would not give a single further indication that his suspicions were indeed true. His outrage though disturbed her greatly. Either the man was under extreme pressure, or there was another cause. Either way, he already knew too much.

    ”Leave my store! Get out now woman!” With a polite nod and a final greeting, the paladin turned to leave. The man muttered, his face red as he saw there was none to be gained. He had tried his best to learn more on the whereabouts of the gem, to get his hands on the gem itself, yet he had failed. A dark gleam appeared on her face as she closed the door behind her. The time for vigilance was at hand. She would need to warn the monastery soon.

  • S

    Nuts and Giants

    The night was still high when the paladin awoke, unable to sleep anymore. The thought of what was to be kept her awake more often than not these days. It was to pass soon, and she prayed with each passing day that the call to action would come. With a sigh she raised herself out of the bed, careful not to awaken her husband. She looked upon him a moment, a warm smile appearing on the ever stern facade. He had returned late, having been summoned by the City of Peltarch, and had been most weary. Gently, she gave him a light kiss on his cheek. ”Rest well this night, my love. May Helm watch over you while I am away.” With that, she turned out of the room, leaving him to whatever dreams he might be holding.

    She had tried her best not to show him the troubles that were within, but he knew it well. He knew her all too well… ”No more pain, no more tears” It had been the promise both had made years before, to not let anything come between them, however great it might be. It had been kept up to now, but the knight feared that it would soon be broken, when the final call to duty would come. A faint smile lingered as she pondered this. Her armor stood in front, the symbol of her Lord catching the light of the fireplace playfully. It had been the cause of what had kept them apart for so many times before. He had told her many times how he wished for the day that it would just remain there, when there would be no need to wear it anymore. Yet he knew, as much as she did, that such a day would only come with death.

    Careful not to make too much sound, the knight began to strap it on once more. Thoughtfully she allowed her gaze to linger upon the faintly crackling fire. A faint smile lingered as she pondered the years that had been between them, how they had stood against one another, how he had pleaded with her to take his life, and how they had grown to one another instead. Indeed, he knew her all too well, and although she knew his wishes, and knew how much they were her own, she was grateful for his support. She could not turn away from all that threatened these lands, just as much as he himself could, and they both knew it. They could but cherish the time that was granted, before yet another call to action would drive them away from home and hearth again. His heart was strong, his thoughts bent just as much on purging whatever might lurk in the shadows. In that she had not failed him. The promise was kept.

    The click of the clasp on her sword belt drew her out of her musings. More routine than anything else, she drew the fine blade, checking it for any irregularities. It was still as good as new, not a notch or crack to be seen. Bacelar had done a fine job. Her eyes drifted off to the sword against the wall, hung neatly above Helm’s shrine. Trivaenstel, the blade her father had granted her on her departure. It had never left it’s scabbard. Silent, the paladin gathered the small pack lying in the corner. The mighty sword that the giants had raised against her before lay above it, still stained, but in fairly good condition. She would have to bring it to the smith soon to have it repaired. After all, it never hurt to have a second weapon at ready, especially not with the Orcs that were so near the town. One could not afford to loose or break a sword and stand defenseless when battle was upon them. And it would need a scabbard as well, the original one had been too stained to be of any further use. A trip to Peltarch would be justified once more. With that thought, the knight set off to the road once again. The sun rose slowly above the horizon, basking the woods in front in a yellowish taint. The guards had reported no Orcs near the town either, so she allowed her sword to remain sheathed for a while longer, listening to the sounds of the forest as it slowly awakened to yet another day. Indeed, it would be a beautiful one.

    ”Perhaps the Doctor will find it a fine day as well” She pondered the thought for a moment, curious as to whether the surgeon in Ormphur would finally succeed or not. It seemed his task was meant to be full of failure, for the other night he had come to Jiyyd, asking their aid in once more retrieving some of his precious ingredients. Of course, they had been willing to help, and of course it had lead them to danger again.

    The quest had lead them deep into the Giant’s lands. Jaroo had not been willing to go alone, and he had been most prudent in this. Zak was always willing to join on any adventure, so he readily came along. Walkman’s tracking skills had also proven to be most reliable, and even Sussuro had joined, although the knight suspected him of having been more interested in the possibility of finding new trees than anything else. And then there had been Johan, “Master Errand Runner”. The paladin suppressed a chuckle at the thought. Obviously scared to the bone, he had swallowed his own fears and had insisted on coming along with them, to carry their bags and share a little of the adventure. She had tried to talk some sense into him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Somehow, the knight felt nothing but respect for the brave little hin. They had all set off together on the very same road she treaded upon now, straight towards the Spire. And they had all returned, weary from battle with the Giants, but in good health none the less. All but one. Jaroo’s trusted companion, the bear Laika, had lost it’s life there trying to defend him. She felt his grief all too well. Yet the task had been accomplished, the ingredients found, and now once more, the Doctor was able to try his luck again.

    It had been good to travel with old friends once more. The day had already been mostly spent with Zak, and she had enjoyed every moment of it. He had been wanting to go near the Gypsy Camp to search for some fine wood, so she had decided to accompany him along the way. After all, spiders there were many, and the woods around the Camp were dangerous even for the brave hin. It had been the right choice as well, for a few hours later they had found themselves in battle for their lives with the Ettercaps that frequented those parts. It had been Helm’s strength that had kept the both of them alive against them, and the fiendish hounds that had found their way into the woods as well. If Zak had gone alone, he would surely have died. Atel would have never forgiven her. She smiled softly as the vision of the hin faded once more. If ever she had a good friend in these lands, it would surely be him. He had promised to send Tanya over to their house again soon, and she was already looking forward to seeing the child once again.

    The paladin looked up a moment as the first peaks of the Giantspire doomed in the distance. The sun was already high. If she made haste, she would make it to Peltarch before noon.

  • S

    Journal Entry #58 - The Lurking in the Deep (continued)

    I have conferred with sir Eram on the matter, and there may yet be a way to banish that which lurks so near. Yet the task will not be without danger. Eram has divined a link between ourselves and this being, brought into life by the same evil that had before taken ours. Although even the mere thought of somehow being connected to this thing shivers me to the core, it might prove beneficial. If it is there, it can be used, and from what Eram has told me, it will be. It is the perfect conduit through which Helm’s might can strike back at this being. We will return there, that much is certain, it cannot be allowed to roam freely and continue to do it’s work here. I can but wonder what my role in this will be, and pray that Helm grants us the victory so strongly needed. He is strong within us, I see that clearly now. May His strength and ours be able to overcome.


  • Great stuff, Shane. Very interesting, well written story.

  • S

    The Test of Faith: Continued

    She awoke in strange surroundings, almost as if in a dream. Slowly she regained her senses, getting a bearing of her whereabouts. Her sword and shield were still in hand, clenched tightly. She sheathed the blade and lowered her helmet. Slowly, the fog cleared in front of her. The wind played joyfully through her hairs, brustling the treeline, yet she felt nothing of it. Suddenly, a figure doomed out of the mists, fully clad in plate, standing solemnly in front her. The paladin understood instantly, dropping to a knee, lowering her eyes away from the appearance. “My Lord”

    A loud, harsh voice boomed through her head, coming from all around. “Your time has come to prove your faith to me, both in will and body…” The words crushed her instantly, and it took all her strength to remain as she was. ”To prove” She had been failing, she knew it well. And now Helm had called her forth. The paladin remained silent as the voice continued.

    “A great injustice occured ten years ago in this land that has damaged my following…It was in this land that my watchful clergy acted less than vigilant and allowed a Banite, a so-called Dread Lord to corrupt the Guantlet of the Watchful...” A feeling of anger overwhelmed her as the words came to her. She wanted to jump up, call out, act! Yet she remained immobile as the voice continued, unwavering.

    She listened, and learned. She learned of how the Gauntlet had been held securely in Waterdeep, of how it had been symbol to His virtues for ages, of how it had been allowed to be shown around the land in an effort to inspire faith towards Helm in His followers once more, and of how it’s guardians failed in their vigilance as the Banites took it from their guard, and was lost. Shame crept over her once again, as if the knight herself was responsible for what had occurred. She listened on, her eyes still downcast, and learned of how the Gauntlet was recovered again by miners in the Giantspire 5 years ago, and returned to the faithful. The voice spoke of how the Gauntlet was corrupted by the very evil that had taken it, it’s virtues gone, and of how it enslaved the hearts of those that held it towards the darkness of Bane. The task brought forth was clear. She was to retrieve the Gauntlet as it would be passing through Ormphur this very day, before it would reach the gates of Jiyyd, and it’s Temple. Faithful were lost to it’s evil embrace with every waning day, and Helm’s might was weakening towards it. Such could not be allowed. The Gauntlet was to be returned to His stead, and destroyed. The surroundings blurred once more as His final words hammered through her head. ”Do not fail me!”

    ”Death before dishonor” The paladin steeled her heart as she felt herself succumbing to the darkness of sleep once again. ”Your wish is my command, my Lord. I shall succeed in thy bidding, or find death.” With that determination, she closed her eyes, awaiting what was to pass.

    A moment later, trees doomed up from the distance again. As her senses adjusted once more to her new surroundings, she found herself on the road to Ormphur. Instinctively she drew her blade again, looking out into the distance. There was no shame, no defeat, only determination. The task was clear, and it would be done, or she would fall in trying. The thought was ripped from her mind swiftly as she heard heavy footsteps approaching from further up the road.

    ”Who goes there?” A stern voice called out to her as she noted the figures in front. The man that spoke was clad in plate, darkened, but Helm’s mark still clearly visible. In the darkness of the night, she could just make out the ornate box that he was carrying. 2 men flanked him, acolytes and guards no doubt. Calmly, the knight replied to the question posed. ”I am Shane Andryl, sirs. Paladin to Helm, the Watcher. The man showed signs of relief at her words, as if pleased to come across a fellow of the faith, ready to escort them safely to Jiyyd. Yet all her senses warned her of the darkness that lay deep in their hearts. Without any further though, she addressed her reasons for being there. ”I am here to take that what you carry, and bring it to safety.” The man showed clear surprise, and began to protest to her words. ”Lady Shane…You must be mistaken...We serve Helm, and walk in the glory of his light. It is my duty to protect this precious Gauntlet and will not let it out of my sight.” The paladin remained calm, her eyes steeled upon the group. ”I am here to make certain it remains in safety, not in the hands of those that have been mislead to His true meaning”. The man clearly became upset now, sneering at her words, accusing her of jealousy towards the possession of the Gauntlet. He addressed to her that it would be displayed in Jiyyd for the week to come, for all to behold. It could not be allowed.

    ”You will not. The Gauntlet is not what you believe it to be. 't Has become a tool against our Lord.” She tried to put reason into their hearts. Perhaps these men were not yet beyond salvation. Perhaps they were strong enough to break free from the Gauntlet’s corrupting grasp. The man called out against her, anger overwhelming him as he saw she would not stand aside. ”Heretic! The Gauntlet embodies all the virtues of our god! Power! Wealth! Strife!” His words came as a shock to her. How could this be? How could one of strong faith, as clearly this man was, fall so low as to even forget the basics of what the Heavenly Guardian deemed right? Determined, she clenched the hilt of her blade tighter. These men would either succumb and repent, of face judgement in the afterlife. Such was the will of Helm…

    One final time she tried to reason with them, explaining their error, allowing them the chance to see the light once again. Yet it was to no avail. They had fallen too far into the darkness of Bane’s corruption. He called her a liar, a pauper unknowing of Helm’s true glory, a jealous brigand… She took the insults calmly, standing firm, the look in her eyes telling them she would not fall and stand aside in this. Angered, he turned to the acolytes behind him, obviously ordering them to strike against her. With a curt nod, she donned her helmet, ready for the battle that was to be. She knew her thoughts to be right the instant she heard the prayers called forth. Helm’s name was all absent, the prayers dark and twisted to Bane’s dominion. She noted the plate-clad man hiding behind the two, using them as shields to his own. With a scowl, she lunged forward, blocking her mind against the dark whispers that the two called forth. One by one, they fell in Helm’s name, until she stood before the man...

    The paladin halted, her blade still at ready, and looked upon the coward in front of her. With a scowl, she challenged him to duel. He accepted readily, claiming it would be her last, that Helm was at his side. She knew the lies within it, and wary for treachery, mace on sword clammered as the battle began. Night turned into the day as the battle raged forth, hours passed as blow after blow was struck. All she had ever trained for came to use, as she needed all her skill to dodge his blows. Time after time he invoked the might of his new-found lord. With each of his cries for aid her blade struck hard against him, only to see the wounds healed again as Bane’s wrath rained upon her. Yet she did not fall. With a carefully placed blow she knocked him off his feet, allowing him the chance once more to surrender to Helm and leave the path of darkness he had set upon. Yet even this final act of mercy was to no avail. He was too far gone, and lunged upon her again with a feral growl. The paladin continued the battle, not caring for the apparent signs of fatigue that slowly came with each passing strike. The blade grew heavy in her hands, the armor started to grow tiresome, yet she remained standing, mustering all her strength. She would not fall against Bane’s anger. With a loud cry, she heaved the blade into the sky once more, and hammered it down upon him. He fell down as the blade struck home, blood pouring from his many wounds. He did not stand again… Weary and weakened from the battle, she lowered her blade, removing her helmet to allow the man a last sight on the face of his victor. With his dying breath, he took hold of the box, clutching it tightly against his heart. Then, his hands fell limp, as life sipped away from him. With a sad expression, the paladin uttered a prayer towards the salvation of the man’s soul.

    She knelt down to take the box he had coveted so, as she noted her own armor. It was shred and dented in more places than she could imagine, Helm’s symbol dull and scratched beyond recognition. Her shoulders and chest were blackened, scorched from the heavenly fires that he had called forth upon her, and bloodstains were apparent everywhere. Yet there was no time to rest. She bit away the pain that slowly ached her body, and grasped the box tightly. Suddenly, it began to radiate a great warmth, and light started seeping through it’s cracks. She held onto it tightly as the box slowly crumbled to dust, leaving the gauntlet exposed in her hands. It felt cold to the touch, yet a sudden warmth came over her, filling her heart to the core, as if Helm himself was pleased. Then, a soothing voice called out from beyond, echoing through her head.

    ”You can become the greatest Paladin of Helm this land has ever known…” The words came softly, inviting, and for a moment she pondered them. Then she realized the warnings that had been given, that the true power of the Gauntlet bore none but corruption. With a stern voice, she called out in reply. ”My desire is only to serve, not to seek glory.” A sudden strength came over her as the words were spoken, the feelings of tiredness and pain fading away as the voice continued. ”Helm's power will grant you anything you wish through me…Continue my tour of this land so that I can show others the light of Helm...It is your duty to serve Helm in this way. This is only a taste of what Helm will grant you if you continue my travels around the lands.” The paladin did not waver. ”My duty is to guard against the dangers that lie ahead, to be vigilant against the darkness. To follow His will. And His will dictates otherwise.” “Helm will grant you wisdom, courage, and ability…” “Helm grants me all that I require now. I seek no more.” The paladin felt empty as the strength granted faded away, leaving her weaker than she had ever been before. Yet she clenched her teeth, trying in her best effort to shield her mind from the whispers within. With a luring tone, the voice continued.

    ”Helm will grant you gold to build a church and greater following in his name.” With the words spoken, she felt her purse become heavy, bursting with the gold within. She shrugged, tossing it aside on the ground. ”Tis not His will.” “Think of all the evil you can banish in Helm's glory with all this power.It is Helm's will…” The paladin took a deep breath, pondering the words a moment, almost finding the truth in them. Yet somewhere deep inside, she knew them to be lies. ”It is Helm's will that we do so to our own efforts, as we are, as it is. Not to seek power for our own, but to stand against it. We serve to protect. And in that He grants us his grace as He deems fit, not as we would wish.”

    The soothing voice faded, and a dark, loathing voice called out against her, forebiding in tone and manner. ”You have made more enemies than you can ever dream about this night Lady Shane! You will meet a gruesome fate soon…” With those words, she felt the warmth fading, leaving her weakened, tired to the point of near tremble, alone. Once more, her visions blurred before her. Too weak to struggle against it, she fell down.

    Slowly, she regained her senses, finding herself once more in the strange surroundings she had been called to before. The visage of Helm appeared before her, and weary, she dropped to her knee once again, eyes downcast. ”Your wish has been my command. I have what You have called for…” A booming voice ached her mind once again, drowning out all other sounds. ”I have witnessed your deeds for this day. Your courage was never in question in facing my fallen followers. Now I have no questions about your will to follow the light of my path.” With a single motion of his hand, he commanded her to lay down the Gauntlet before him. The paladin remained kneeled, placing the Gauntlet in front, silent. A bright light began emitting from it, until it erupted in a blazing flame… it was no more. Once more, the voice boomed. ”Your faith, courage, and will have restored my faith in my followers of this land. In addition, your actions have proven you worthy as one of my true, loyal followers.” The paladin remained silent, unwavering. ”My light will always be at your side and you will represent my virtues to the people of these lands…As such, you will always display the light that symbolizes my path... The armor is a symbol of your allegiance to me and our way of life...It symbolizes that you represent everything pure in the virtues of duty, honor, and loyalty...” With a move of his hand, the dents and shreds faded, the plates warping back into form. The sooth fell down as a bright shine came over it. Still, the paladin remained silent, lowering her head even more in respect to her Lord. ”Now…Let us remove any stench of Bane from you...” A sudden warmth once more filled the paladin’s heart. All feelings of pain and weakness vanished as the many wounds she still bore closed and strength taken was returned. Then, a sudden feeling of tiredness came over her, and as much as she willed it, she could no longer remain conscious. The lands blurred and faded into darkness, as she heard her final words speak out in the distance. ”I live only to serve, as you command, my Lord”

    The knight woke up in the familiar surroundings of her own home, no idea of how much time had come to pass. The light of day brightly peered through the shutters. She rose again, uncertain of whether all had been but a dream. Yet somehow, she knew it to have been true. The armor placed carefully on it’s stand was proof to it. Solemnly, she kneeled down before the shrine dedicated to her Lord, a sense of pride and loss of shame within her. She knew now that He had not forsaken her, that He was strong within. She would not fail again. The path was clear before her, the task as of yet undone.

  • S

    The Test of Faith: Prelude

    Honor, Loyalty, Vigilance, Protection.

    The words had not left the Paladin’s mind in the days that had passed, and with each step she doubted herself to them. The sun was slowly setting over the Norwick gates into the Nars. She paused a moment to behold it, a faint smile lingering as she stood silent.

    ”A knight is sworn to valor. His heart knows only virtue. His blade defends the helpless. His might upholds the weak. His word speaks only truth. His wrath undoes the wicked.”

    The old code was all that had kept her upright. A sense of failure came upon her as the words boomed around her mind. ”His blade defends the helpless” She scoffed lightly, slowly watching the sun move behind the horizon. Her blade had been there, ready to strike against all that might bring harm to her guard. It had been to no avail. Life had been granted by the very same evil they had set out to destroy, and the blame weighed hard. “You owe me” A sudden chill came over her as the voice boomed once again, darker than anything she had ever heard before. It was true.

    She looked upon the road ahead, unknowing of where it would lead her this night. Jiyyd seemed distant. She had no urge to return to it. “Kanen should have just left me there” She rubbed her shoulder a moment, where the Orcish Destroyer had planted the final blow just the day before, shrugging away the thought as swiftly as it came. Her time had not come yet, and she knew that well. The task was not yet completed. “Death before dishonor” The irony in it was all too clear to her now. Death had come first, then the dishonor. ”His wrath undoes the wicked” She banished the feeling out again, steeling herself once more. Eram had been wise in his words as always. It was the reason that she was still alive this day, why Helm had allowed such disgrace to become. The evil was not dispensed of yet. The task remained undone.

    With a sigh, she raised her helmet, a faint smile showing lightly over the troubled facade for just an instant. At least in that they had not failed. The Trollish warlord that had held it as war bounty had been a formidable foe, yet it had been overcome, it’s soldiers destroyed and the deaths of innocent commoners avenged. They had raided a small wayside hostel, slaughtering everyone like cattle. Now they were gone, and the little girl, Grace, was safely in the care of the good doctor in Ormphur. The poor child had been the only one to escape the Troll’s claws. The paladin shivered a moment at the thought of what might have happened to the girl should herself, her husband and Jaroo not have passed by for that small errand.

    She restrained herself from releasing a light chuckle at the thought of the errand. To gather some special kind of nuts in the woods to the east of Ormphur, so that the doctor could finish his special kind of potion. It seemed silly, but it had been a nice diversion from the darkness that was over her, and it had allowed her to spend some time with the man she had allowed to be her husband. Too little of that had been already. The trip had been eventful at the least, as many creatures prowled in the region, but the ingredients requested had been swiftly recovered. Then, they had come upon a trail of bodies. A woman had come brushing through the treeline, life failing her an instant too soon as the wounds she had born were too great. The paladin had rushed forth to her aid, but it had been too late. It was then the three of them had decided to venture on and seek out whatever had been slaughtering those poor souls in such manner, letting them to rot. It had soon become apparent that a Trollish warband was the source, and that the small hostel had been the home of those that lay scattered on the road. They had tried to flee them, in vain.

    Enraged by the slaughter, the three of them had lunged out against the Trolls, leaving none standing, and burned their corpses so that they would not rise again. They had searched the stables, sheds and the main house for any trace of the beasts. That’s when they found the girl, scared to death, in hiding under her bed as Trolls stomped across the room. The small girl was saved, and in the light of the burning hostel, the dead were gathered and granted their final peace. The good doctor had been kind enough to take the child in as his apprentice. He would care for her well-being, the paladin knew that well. And neither of them would be alone again.

    The smile faded as swiftly as it had come as the paladin donned the helmet. At least in that they had not failed. She looked behind herself at the closed gates of Norwick, then drew both blade and shield, ready for the road. She had to remain strong and vigilant, continue her duties to the best of her abilities. Helm willed it so.

    Yet it was difficult… The paladin walked on, deep in thought. The lone fool bandit had apparently watched her and seen his chance. She was drawn back to reality by the clang of his steel on her armour. It had been his sole mistake to underestimate his opponent this much. The paladin sighed again, looking at her hand a moment that had thrust her blade deep in his chest. It was well-trained, and the action had been instinctive. If at all, she was trained to bring death. “No… to oppose those who wish to do so, to protect the weak” With that, she shrugged away the thought, turning to continue on her way. Yet the knight could not move. Her vision was failing her, her surrounding blurring away before her. She clenched her teeth, trying to shrug off the feeling. It couldn’t be poison, the bandit had not drawn her blood at all. Or had he?

    She tried to step forward, but her legs were heavy, as if the whole world suddenly rested upon her. With a groan she plunged her blade down, leaning on it in an effort to stay upright. Everything around her was turning. A familiar shape came rushing down the road as she willed herself to remain standing. Anakore… through the fog before her eyes she could barely make out his face. She raised a hand to him, trying hard not to let him see how hard she was struggling. The last the paladin could feel were her legs failing her as she hit the ground. Then, all turned to darkness.

  • S

    [private letter to Eram Meynolds, Head Priest at the Temple of Helm, Jiyyd]
    _Sir Eram,

    I trust you have remained strong with our Lord Helm, as always.

    I must speak with you on urgent matters concerning the Faithfull and the town of Jiyyd. To the best of my extent I cannot bring myself to put to you in writing what has occurred. Let it be known that a great evil lies beneath the town, and that up to now, we, as vigilant guardians of our Lord, have failed to withstand it.

    Therefor I urge you to swiftly arrange upon a time when we can meet.

    Until then, I remain at your service.

    [signed]
    Shane Andryl_

  • S

    Journal Entry #57 – The Lurking in the Deep

    Strange reports of possible undead operations have come to me through miss Nalum this day. From her words, I have gathered that a creature of sorts, vampire most likely, has taken refuge in the swamps. She has come to me in fear for her life, as herself and her companions have faced if, and were granted their lives by it in return for a given task to be completed within a month. It would appear that the month is due, yet neither of them are willing to complete the task given, to retrieve a certain gem, out of fear of what they might bring forth.

    Miss Nalum is safe within the confinements of our home for now. I will…

    [several pages have been carefully torn out of the journal at this point, and the following has been added to the bottom of the page, from the same hand, but apparently hastily scribbled.]

    My honor is my life… forfeit now at the mercy of Lord Helm.

  • S

    Journal Entry #56

    Finally I sit at our fire again, out of this armor and close to home and heart. The journey has taken me near to two months in the whole, so to see Jiyyd safe and my husband in good health has been most heartwarming. Yet even as I have barely had the time to refresh myself, the news of the past two months has come to me. And with every word I hear of it, I curse the failed result of my own venture, and the fact that it has diverted me from home for so long.

    War has been in Jiyyd. War with the Orcs that had been at the gates at my departure. From what I’ve been told, it has erupted only hours after. Sam and miss Lucia have died, fallen in duel over the fate of Jiyyd, their fate up to now unknown. A paladin by the name of Darian Stalwart has come to these lands to investigate Sam’s demise. From what he has told me, there is more at hand than seems at first. Yet I must learn more before I can draw any valid conclusions.

    Furthermore the lands have been beset by the darker races of the deep, and it would seem that the Drow are near, posing a large threat to us all. The assaults on the Temple haven’t stopped. I hear of undead risings, of bone constructs having been called by an unknown force from the well. These lands are no more in mere turmoil, they have lost the control of common sense and have fallen into pure chaos. There is much work to be done, if we are to overcome what may still lie ahead.

    Tonight I will try to meet with sir Eram and Kanen for an update on these matters. Atleast some good news has been brought as well, as it would appear that Kanen has been able to overcome the Lich in Minthas Rhelgor. Atleast this menace has been dealt with. May the Watcher grant us insight, and guard us all against the storms ahead.

  • S

    Journal Entry #50

    I have left our home this night, for news has come to my attention on the group calling itself the Black Hand. One of their operatives has been reported in the vicinity, so I must move swiftly. If the news proves valid and I can apprehend him, he could shed more light on them. Speed and silence are required in this, as they have eluded us too many times already.

    The Orcs had been at the gates right before I was to depart. They have been stopped for now, but one of their commanders uttered warnings of war. I pray Jiyyd will remain safe while I am gone. May Helm guard them all.

    Journal Entry #51

    For the first time I can share a hot meal and a warm bed again. A week has passed through rain and cold, as the trail has led me beyond the Nars and the barren lands beyond it, to the small hamlet where I have taken up lodgings for the night. Tomorrow the search continues. Perhaps my informant will be able to shed more light on the situation, and at least provide me with a fitting description of the person I seek. For tonight, I can but think of home, and hope that all is well.

    Journal Entry #52

    This search has become more troublesome than I had imagined. Yet all evidence points to the fact that I am indeed on the right track. My informant was found dead this morning, a knife in the back having been his fate. Apparently my presence has not come as unnoticed as I had wished it to be. Although he has not been able to speak on the matters at hand, the tracks lead further east, back into the wilds. Two men of this town have been reported missing as well. Perhaps my quarry is amongst them.

    I have hired the skills of a decent tracker to assist me in the hunt. He keeps rather to himself, but he is skilled enough in having lead us this far, and at least he can listen to the reason of coin for his efforts.
    We leave at once, when the horses are packed and ready. I dare not send word home for now, as it is quite apparent that trust is futile in these parts. The Hand must learn as little as possible of my current search, lest all efforts become in vain.

    Journal Entry #53

    After more than a week of chase, we are finally closing in on our quarry’s trail. The fire we came across a few hours ago was still hot to the touch, and it would seem to have been left in a hurry. The trail still points to two men, so I can but assume that this operative had an affiliate nearby. It would be most pleasing to catch both, as they could perhaps divulge some crucial information towards the whereabouts of the Black Hand quarters. We must be careful now not to make any mistakes. As long as the weather holds, we might be able to catch them by nightfall.

    Journal Entry #54

    Damnation as fate appears against us in this, for the trail is gone. Our quarry has fled our sights, and no trace of him remains. We discovered their camp for the night quite easily, as the fools had left their fire burning. We decided to wait until they had fallen asleep, to minimize the chances of escape. Yet the weather was once more against us in this. We were forced to move in sooner as mist began settling quickly in these woods. We caught them by surprise initially, and it seemed like the battle would be won sooner than it had begun, when one of the two men evaded my prayers of silence and darkened the area, leaving is disoriented. I heard a muffled cry and tried to lunge out, but found nothing. When the darkness lifted, one of the men lay dead on the ground, the other gone from sight. We tried to catch his trail again, but none was left. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. There is nothing left to do now but return and call off the search, for in these wilds, there is no further hope of regaining the trail within due time. Over a month has passed on this already, and I cannot allow my attention to be diverted from Jiyyd any longer. I can but hope that the man does not alert his superiors towards my presence here, yet I fear that such are idle hopes indeed.

    Journal Entry #55

    We have returned at the small village from where the search had begun, and here I part ways with my companion. I have paid him handsomely for his skills and his silence. Tonight I will remain here, and make my provisions for the return back home.