Memoirs of the Lynched
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@ddc8eca397=Nickolai:
It was cold that morning, dreadfully cold. I remember because the frost had just settled on the windows and fresh snow covered the well traveled road. The townsfolk were just waking from their slumber, children ran out to play in the snow; their mothers not far behind.
I stood watching them all, my shield strapped to my left arm, my helm under my right. I wore full plate that day, standard issue for a Dread Knight, spikes adorned the shoulders and the symbol of Bane on my right gauntlet. My face was as gray as the sky and cold as frost.
As I watched the town come alive with the morning my upper lip curled into a snarl, thoughts ran through my head. I could kill them I thought, bring suffering to their hearts and let them watch as I slaughtered their parents and forced them into slavery. I shook my head slightly, removing such thoughts; I was here for a reason. I began to walk, the snow crunching under my heavy boots, mothers grabbed their children and held them close in my passing.
The town was silent while I walked, the only sound was from the snow under my boots. I grumbled slightly, my expression cold, but I saw what it was I was looking for. A gate was fast approaching, I kept my eyes forward; strong and fearsome. I reached the gate, and as I opened it few words came from me in a dark echoing boom; "May The Dark Lord have mercy on you all, for I have none."
The gate was hastily closed behind me and I made my way to a crypt… a mausoleum I believe they called it. My prey lived here the rumors said. I placed my helm atop my head and equipped my battleaxe. The stone door swung open easily, it was pitch black inside. Fortunately for me, a ring of glowing was upon my finger this morning.
A blue glow filled the room as I entered, the fragrance of fresh blood was in the air, how I cherish the smell. I moved purposefully through the crypt as it grew with each step. There were traps here I thought, I recalled once visiting before, it looked as if someone else had been here already.
"Perfect"
A figure caught my eyes, moving in the darkness. "Stop now heretic or feel my wrath!", my voice echoed through the crypt. Figures of purple, silver, and black jumped from the shadows. My axe was swift, easily cutting through my opponents, a sinister laugh erupted. I realized it was me that was laughing. I was a sadistic machine, watching them cry in agony, wishing for death.
More figures came from the shadows; mages, rogues, clerics, "Fall to Bane" I shouted while I tore through them with ease and pleasure. The battle continued for an hour, I pushed myself forward. Any that were in my way died swiftly. I made my way to the final chamber, three priestesses blocked my path.
"Fall to your knees and beg forgiveness, or fall to my axe" I shouted, they charged. None could defeat me this day, a trail of blood followed my path. Inside the chamber a large symbol of Cyric lay on the floor, I took another axe and drove it straight into the face of the cur. Its visage cracking under the force.
A grin was on my face, much blood had been spilled. My thirst for death has been momentarily quenched. As I left the crypt I took the body of a priestess with me, over my shoulder. Outside of the mausoleum I threw the body down and plunged a holy dagger into its back...
It was a good day I thought, as I made my way home... to Oscura.
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@652752f6ed=Nickolai:
This will be the last journal entry… It's been 12 years since I first started this journal, in that time many things have happened.
Most notable is the breaking of the Narfell chapter's church. The priests seem to have all gone from this land, and neither the dread lord nor Zyr'kyl have shown me a sign they were ever here.
As good a time as any, I've decided to move on as well... there is nothing left in Narfell that can be accomplished by a stray dog.
V
The journal seems to have stopped there, symbolically, there are no more blank pages left.
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