Necromancer's Journal

Because I feel it only fair to show where I begain at, because it is quite unusual to see a necromancer revil in the more pleasent aspects of life, not ot mention worshipping a druidic Goddess I post these excerpts from my own journals. Fele free to leave your own comments and, if i have the time and inclination, I will answer as best as I'm capible. Each excerpt I will title as i feel appropriate for the material and so, without further delay....


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Family Ties:

Let me tell you a story. It isn't a particularly good story but it is one that I hold very near and dear to me. In it is a family, a father, a mother, and two small children. This is the family I would have to face. You see my elder sister had already moved on with her life as a druid, the same as her father before her, the same as his father before him, and the same that was expected of me. My mother was of the less earthy craft and her skills as an enchanter were reletivly minor, but there wasn't any one of us in the family, nor any other who knew the woman, who would rather face a battle hardened troll with their bear hands than to anger my mother. Then too were my younger siblings who were both the eternal torment as well as the everlasting delight of my life. I knew both of the little girls looked up to me, i knew they respected me deeply and believed every word I had to say. Why then did I come home at all? Why did I tell the trueth when a lie would have served just as well?

It started out well enough, after all I was still just learning the preliminaries of my craft at that point so I neither had spells commited to memory or any of the later markings of my craft(I still would like to know how there could possibly be any sort of smell, I bathe once a week and wash off every morning, not to mention after every time I visit the cultists in newport's sewers). So I had felt reasonably safe in comming home to tell my family what had become of me, not to mention bring news of the outside world to our little patch of ground in the middle of nowhere. I'd arrived by carrage for this was before they had stopped running and I was feeling expensive...not to mention I wanted to save my strength for helping with the harvest. By the time I had gotten my things and walked the last bit somehow my father was expecting me. Don't ask me how he knew since I was trying to keep my little home comming a supprize and I hadn't noticed any animals that he could have used as his eyes, but then again he had always somehow known when any of us were close at hand. He stood there just outside of our home and waited till I'd stowed my things before speaking. "I know you've been a busy man, but the plants wont' get picked by themselves son." And with that I had thrown myself into the yearly routine I hadn't even gotten the chance to get unfamilliar with yet.

In all it took most of the week for us to get everything picked, cleaned, and stored away for the winter. I was grateful for the work, which i doubt is something you would hear your average magic user saying I'd wager. The work not only let me work muscles that had gone unused during my studies, but also delayed the inevitable questions because each night I had gone to bed just after dinner saying that I was exausted, which wasn't that much of a streach on the trueth because while I was glad to work and enjoyed tending the crops my body hurt from the exurtion. It was good to be home then, the old stories that had begun to sound old and worn down only six months before sounded freash and new to me then. My mother even went to the trouble of baking a cobbler, something she rarely did because as anyone who cooks from scratch can and will tell you its a headach to fix and even worse of one to clean up after. However, sadly, the eventual questions came as they were bound to do and at first I was truethful. Newport was strange to me and compared to my old home it was quite crowded. I was even, at the time, able to stay honest while telling them where I worked. After all scribes were in demand and while my writing isn't the cleanest of scripts it did earn me a living. Still though there were other questions, not to mention complaints that I smelled. I still can't tell you how I could smell of anything other than dirt and sweat but it was little Sara, darling little girl, that complained the loudest.

"You smell!" Her nose wrincled in a child's attempt at exaduration to emphasize the point she had tried making.

I was, at the time sweaty and more than a little dirty from field work so I said what I felt was the most appropriate thing to the little girl. "I just got in Sara, I'm supposed to smell."

This is when she looked me over and fanned her nose, "No, really, you smell like something just died..."

I had to blink then, It'd been at least a month since I'd handled any corpses of either the dead or the undead variety but if she said I smelled then who was I to argue, after all she could've been mistaken about what it smelled like and I had been working since sun up.

It was a few days later when my father sat down with me in the shade of our barn. He'd asked me quite directly, as was his typical manner, what I planned to do with myself. Now I can't vouch for anybody but myself but every time my parents have come to me with these questions I've always froze up, after all they're my parents I don't want to dissapoint them or, gods forbid, lie since I've always been a terrible lier.

Always the one to try and just get thigns over with I said a quick prayer to whichever gods happened to hear me before I explained things. "Father," I straightened as i looked across to him, "I really don't know how to say this, or explain myself properly so If I ramble please just...." I sighed inwardly, this was going to be harder than I thought.

"You know me.". He nodded slowly which was my cue to continue. "You know I would never shame you but I can't follow your path since I've tried, i honestly have Father. Its just that, well...you've seen the things that come 'round at night haven't you? You've seen the corrupted and the sick that wander 'round right?"

"So you're trying to tell me what, that you're going to be a priest?" His eyes looked into mine in what I thought was a searching manner. He must've seen the pain I was feeling because he reached over and grabbed my hand gently. "Its alright...you know I'll support whatever you've gotten into."

It was as good as a slap to the face to me, how could I do this to this man? He took my mother in when she was with child, he'd helped raise her children like they were his own. How could I say it? I knew that what I wanted to do would help because I could gain a greater understanding of the pluages, the dead, all of it. I...just started crying. Here I was a grown man and i was weeping.

"Son...Jeric, tell me what's wrong." I couldn't see through my tears but I could feel his hands, those same strong hands that'd picked me up countless times when I was small. He was beside me now letting me lean against him.

"I...I've shamed you Father." My words, what few I could manage to croak out were halting when they came. "I thought that if...if I knew more maybe I could..." I swallowed hard as I tried to force myself to say the words out loud that'd been running through my head since I'd come home. "...I'm a necromancer..."

My father's hearing had always been sharp so even though it was a horse whisper I knew he'd heard. His reaction was simple and like the rest of him to the point. Slowly he got to his feet, dragging me to mine in the process, and made me look at him, "Why?" He wiped my face off with a hankerchif he always kept with him. "Why?"

My breathing must've been shallow because i could only manage a few words out at a time but I started explaining to him. The pluages and the spectres and the corrupted animals wern't natural, this much we'd known already. I'd told him that I wanted to try and find out how these thigns were created, how they worked and if possible how to treat these problems. Necromancers I felt had created or worsened these things, I felt that perhaps maybe if I learned their crafts I could learn how to direct efforts in turning these thigns aside, or at the very least contain them to the point where people could live in peace. To discount a possible way of looking at the problem was foolish, I hadn't used those words since I dare not call my father a fool, I had to try looking at our problems through another prespective.

Through it all he listened and then when I was done, or at least as done as i could be in explaining he spoke softly. "I know you won't hurt anyone if you don't have to but...I don't think your mother will understand, not yet anyway so maybe it'd be best if we ceap this between us for now." He patted me on the shoulder and smiled at me. "I wish I could do something to help but you know the centaur're a picky lot and they just bearly tolerate me much less listen so..."

"I understand," and I did know the risks involved. I knew that i'd end up losing trust from a variety of groups because of my choices, and it didn't matter to me. "I know..."

As for the rest of the stay, not a word was said about the issue. Maybe my father had words with the others while I was tending to the mule, maybe not but when I did finally break the news to my family at large(excluding my elder sister...I wish I knew how she was doing, but I can't go where she does since the Ents would probably tear me to bits) they didn't seem in the least bit supprized, but that happened weeks later and I write about it here because I have a few pages left to fill space in this book.

I've just gotten my first companion spell and while yes none of the merchants that open shop during the day will do business with me but I won't let that get me down, they simply need to be shown that I'm not such a bad guy and I'm sure the city guards have jobs that I would be suited to preform. A necromancer I may be, but damned anyone who thinks I'm going to be a depressed 'there is no joy in living' freak.

I enjoy reading about the lives of those among me in Dalaya, keep up the good work.

And I'm always eager to hear what you've been up to. Lets see if we can get some quality grave digging time in.

Wow.
A great beginning and I really look forward to read more.

I just thought about to do something similiar to what you've done just in case of the RP side...but I think my english isn't good enough to keep up with your quality :/

Anyways....this will eventually turn out to be a story I will love to read

Manluas said:

Wow.
A great beginning and I really look forward to read more ... Anyways....this will eventually turn out to be a story I will love to read

Click to expand...

/agree

I really enjoyed the read.

What follows is based on a gaming session I had awhile back. I don't remember names and I had most definatly embelished detail both due to engine limitations preventing thigns to happen as written and because...well...memory's a bit fuzzy. As for not wanting to write for fear that your english isn't good enough I have this to say. Write anyway@ There's no better way to improve your written english skills than to practice. I want to hear your stories, which i wont' get to till you write them down and share with the rest of us.


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Fading Light, Exaulted Darkness

I wish it hadn't happened the way it did. His face, his voice....they greet me when I close my eyes. Whats worse than seeing him when I close my eyes at night is the fact I don't even know his name. Elven he might have been but it could've jsut as easily been Erudite, or human, or anything really.

It happened while I was deep in the warrens close to the ruins of the first city. Somebody, his name I neither remember no really care to, had asked for my help in gathering a few things for him from the kobald that call those dank caves home. Because of my recent aquisition of the scythe I still carry, not to mention the spells I had learned during my studies, there was little challange or even sport in killing these great manlike beasts. To turn this person down would've been easy, after all they would be waiting just at the enterance where it was reletivly safe while I ventured in to what every adventurer I've talked to reffers to as the throne room.

Strange really, we slaughter these beasts by the hundreds of score without a thought about our actions when they have their own language, culture, an apparent belief structure...albeit a primative one, as well as a clear cut caste system. We 'noble' adventurers end their lives for the sake of our own meager gains and we are applauded for our efforts and yet, there always seems to be one of those, when the life of an 'advanced' and 'cultured' race is taken we are condemned for murder. What seperates us so?

Bah...too much philosophy for my wine weary head to wrap around. Heh, maybe I should've been a priest if I wanted to commune with the gods about the ethics of wholesale slaughter.

Still these thoughts go through my mind from time to time. Erudin has its kobold problem as badly as, if not worse than, newport has its gnolls and Halas has its orcs. I suppose it matters little how deeply I think about these matters because their blood has fueled my upward climb in power and understanding. Their blood wasn't what I was after this day however. This day I was after a few trenkits and articals of clothing the...I want to call it a king and for lack of a better title it will have ot suffice, of the kobold population as well as the two that attended to him/her/it? carried. I've killed thier king before, as have countless other adventurers and yet always a new one is chosen among the higher born castes. Perhaps we do them a favor by keeping their population in check, perhaps not...either way the things they carry, whiel crude, are valued amongst those that are learning their respective crafts.

My scythe seemed to sing to me that day as I used it to cut a path clear for me. They didn't want to fight me...they knew I was too strong to hope for anything save for death against wit htheir tactics. I....slaughtered them like animals. I feel nothing one way or another about thei rkind yet because the one that hired me out would gain more violent attentions from them I killed any that stood between me and the throne....

Perhaps it is because i hate to waste what is in front of me, perhaps because I had over time grown accustomed to the dried meats most carried with them I took from each creature I killed. Even as I watched with a quiet detatched facination as well as revolt, I felt exaulted by their deaths for I am Necromancer, Death is my stock and trade. Death sustains and strengthens me even as Life sustains a shamen or druid. the throne room floor was coated with the blood of the dead, its air rent wit hthe howles and all too human screams of the dying and those about to die and then I found what i had been looking for...

it could be said that power can make a man as intoxicated as any drink or lover's passions. On that day I confermed this for when I saw what had formerly sent fear into my body, the sight of three large Kobold howling and shreaking as they thundered towards me. I called down my magic and their strength bled from them. I made them feel the power that ran through me and their bodies convulsed. My scythe sang as it whirled through the air at first to fend off their blows but then, in what felt like the span of a few moments, its blade sang them a lulliby they would not waken from. Perhaps it was exertion of body, perhaps of mind, but I was in that moment dizzy and so sat in the only avalible chair to me and I must say, upon reflection, that were i capible of removing the kobold's throne I would.

How long I sat there I don't know. What I do know is that at a later time a small party led by a plate armor covered high elf. They had come probably for the same reason I did weeks before, to hone my craft, or at the very least gain some small measure of favor in Erudin. Thogh dizzy and perhaps more than a little drunk from what i had wrought I could hear the elf's screams. Though it seemed, upon later reflection, that the rest of his(her? Hell I can't tell with elves even when my mind is clear half the time...) party seemed content to wait for more Kobold to come replace the fallen as was usual their leader had other ideas it seemed. A grin slowly spread across my face as i saw him move from body to body on the off chance some minor trinket was overlooked. Need I even tell you that his efforts ended only in dissapointment? Need I tell you that when he saw me sitting on the kobold throne he charged at me, demanding I forfit the spoils of my work?

I told him, quite calmly, where he could shove the sword he was waving about.

His continued screaming did nothing but aggrivate the pounding in my head and besides, he wanted what I had promised I would save for another man, one who happened to pay me for my time. Its rare for me to see an elf shorter than I am but I quite litterally looked down on this one and sneered. There was no chance in whatever pit Marlow dwells in that I would hand over my spoils and so I was challanged to a duel. It isn't long in an adventurer's career that he doens't start to judge another='s strength reletive to his own. Whoever this elf was he would crumple in a fight with me without some manner of outside help so I said yes, yes i would fight with him.

My scythe sung to me of death. It sung to me of opening this man's throat and wrenching his head from his body for his companions to see. His wouldn't be the first death by my hands, but it would be the first death I had caused that wasn't in self defense. I drained the life from him as a leech drain's a man's blood. his sword ment nothing to me for while powerful his were slow and unwieldy swings and his armor was like paper against my scythe.

The Rotbringer is aptly named for every wound that marred his pale fleash immidiatly blackened and festered. I remember him begging me to spare him, to let him seek a healer. He fell face first to the ground and crawled towards me begging for his life. I felt his hand come into contact with the toe of my boot as he asked for mercy.

He wanted Mercy?

MERCY?!

Where was his so called mercy when those of my order were cut to ribbons? Where was his so called Justice when I saw the hungry and pennyless get turned away from the inns and guildhouses that saw only people without money and chose to ignore those same people were so gaunt that you could see thier ribs because of hunger? Where was his compassion when it came time to tend to those sick with pluage? Tell me damn you, where were your so called virtues then? Do not condem me. I have my reasons for choosing the path I have. I've done what i could to help those that do without, the hungry...the sick...

I tore his helmet off, headless of hs feble attempts to resist before pulling him up by his hair. The words of magic were on my lips as my scythe came thundering down and bearly slowed till its blade rested halfway into the ground. First his body fell and then I threw his head towards his former party members as my spell finished leaving me alone in my rooms in the inn I was staying at in Erudin to realize what I had just done.....

....and I still owe that man, the one that hired me, his bounty.

just so everybody knows this entry and the next are split int otwo different ones both because right now i've developed writer's block and because the next focuses on the meeting itself which i wanted to be the main body rather than something tacked onto the end.


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Necromatic Green Thumb

Sihala, chief amongst the earthen spirits and patron deity of those in tune with nature. A dream it may have been but I had found myself in her relms. Here all manner of life springs and thrives. It is far from idyllic however as predetor and prey stribe for survival, but I can feel it is a peaceable relm I walk in, truely a good place for me to rest awhile and write.

I forget why exactly I am here but I know i chose to come to this place, the last any would willingly see a necromancer walk. However I am here, and I know that before i was here I was at Haven of Lore, or as I preffer to call it simply Haven. There I had sought councel with the different cults and religions to reconcile what I had done to the unfortunate and perhaps misguided paladin that had crossed my path deep in the kobold warrens. It shouldn't have bothered me as deeply as it had but, even after a week of fasting and contemplative meditation while in Erudine I was no closer to any form of resolution. I'm not sure what I sought while speaking to those who represented the variety of Gods and Goddesses that rule our plane except that I would know it when I found it.

As a necromancer it would have been logical to seek comfort with the followers of Gradalsh and be reassured by them that my actions were justified and in fact were noble for hastening the end of so many lives. During such praise and comforting my eyes locked with the wraith's empty sockets. there were few in attendance that day so it was easy for the two of us, I the supposedly devout worshipper and he(she, does it matter what gender really?) the undead voice of my God on this plane. I searched within those depths and felt myself chill, not from fear for I had seen many such spectres before, but instead this was something much more fundemental,.

My legs weakened and soon gave way as it approached. When it spoke it was not my ears that its words were ment for but with my mind. "You...why do you feel guilty for your actions?"

I tried t ofumble for words to answer with but it halted upon getting a whiff of my thoughts and, dispite having no lips, seemed to smile at me. "So it is not the beasts but the elf that you grieve so?" I heard its laughter, a cold reverberation against the inside of my skull I would do well never to experiance again, "you feel....Sorrow at the deat hof this wretch? Why? You took up the robes of Death and you have carried out our lord's will without hesitation in the past and have never flintched or balked. Why now? What is a little more blood to one such as you man-thing?"

"I...." Its eyeless face bored into my skull as I spoke plain for all to hear, "I was taught that life should have meaning and have a reason for existing but It felt like his hadn't been met when I killed him so...why?"

Again the wraith's laughter pressed into my skull, "It has taken you this long to only begain to comprehend that lesson man-thing? Our lord is displeased that you are such a slow learner." It reached out to touch me and, while i did not back away from its approach, it knew my fear even as it spoke.

"The purpose of Living is to Die...."

"No!" the spell practicly lept into being at the mearest thought. For a thing of its power mine was little more than a mosquito bite, but it did punctuate my refusal. "I refuse to believe that wraith!" My voice rang too loudly in the chamber causing several of the other represenetives present to turn from thier silent contemplations to our argument.

"Do you now youngling?" Again was the impression of its grin.

"I reveare all life that has a place in this world wraith. All life." I swallowed hard under its pityless gaze, "Everything, even your god will one day die, but Kazule has done more than enough to hurry the world along without my help." Its nonexistaint smile broadened into a grin as I continued ranting, perhaps emboldened by thefact I hadn't been stricken down yet(I would later learn that within that forum no violence was permitted so, if one wished to be technical, I was the one in trouble with the local law there, not it). "Do you know what it feels like to watch the wolves at play? What about the smell of freashly turned earth or new growth in spring? What would you know about Life?"

"then why do you work for our Lord man-thing?"

"Because....because...." I couldn't say it. I knew why I had done what i did but somehow I just could not say the words. Instead I turned and ran.

"You cannot run forever..." Its laughter followed me back to my rooms. I knew I had made a fool of myself in front of an audiance of powerful beings. I kenw also I had, publicly, rejected the god that my order was dedicated to following. I don't know why I still lived, I just knew that I had done something that would have infuriated my god and yet I was unpunished.

When she knocked I was deep in my meditative excersizes. She knocked again which, as had the first, only bearly registered with my mind. Dimly I expected this person to knock again or simply leave but instead the door opened admitting n elf. Perhaps there are dark haired high elves, but I've never seen one save for this woman. I could've called her beuty etherial but by human standards that could've described any of the high born elves.

when she spoke my concentration broke and my carefully composed relaxed state evaporated. "What you did today was brave. It isn't every day someone can argue wit ha chosen deciple of the Gods and live long after."

I sighed, for a great many reasons, "Miss...Gradalsh is not my god, and if you ask me what I'd done wasn't brave, it was very very Stupid."

"Oh, is that so necromancer?" She rewarded me with the bearest of smiles as she sat in front of me, legx crossed as mine had been.

"I don't mean to seem rude but...why did you follow me here?" I looked in her face and saw nothing, neither anger nor compassion in her features. Her eyes though...most hold only the spark of life in their eyes but this woman's eyes were ablaze with it causing me to stare into those fires, wanting to drownd in them even as I burned. Dimly, at the edge of my mind, I became aware of something. "You're an emmasary of your God arn't you?"

Her smile widened as she took one of my hands, "Jeric I want you to understand that what you have done could very well get you killed. Gradalsh is not one to take kindly to unruley followers, devoute or otherwise, but I have a possible solution." The light in her eyes dimmed as she looked downwards, "It is not, however, without its risks...especially for a man of your....background."

"Tell me...if it means the difference between my living and dying I need to know." I gripped her hand as I spoke, hoping its pressure would confer the urgancy of my words. "I'm no nearer my goals than when I first left home, I need to survive...."

the elven lady nodded, " I believe i understand, but for this to work I need you to make a pilgramage." She squeezed my hand to silence my questioning. "because the planes of growth would very likely try killing you outright if you went physicly I want you to go only as your spirit. None will harm you in that way save for Sihala herself, but that's after you've made your plea."

I blinked, a wayward spirit in the planes of growth? I've killed a fair number of rouge spooks so I know its possible but...her eyes...something about them tells me she knows what she's talking about. If what she says is true I will at least be able to make some sort of statement in my defense. It was a slim chance since I doubted very much Sihala would even listen if i managed to find her, and each plane the gods dwell in is vast, it could take aeons to find her if she simply didn't want to see me leaving my body either a vegetable or a slowly dying shell.

My jaw set as I returned the elven woman's gaze, "If its my only chance what real choice do I have?"

And so here I am writing in this little book...granted its a futile excersize considering at the moment I'm a spook, but old habits die harder than the men that have them do.

Well, here's the other part of the above log. Hope you people enjoy it.

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Gods that Walk, Men that Fight

My stay within the planes of growth was, how do I best put it? Dissapointing comes to mind since I had expected to fight for every inch of ground forward till i had won my audiance with the mistress of this place. It would seem however whatever magics that sepirated me from my body also rendered me either invisable or as something other than a threat to the local wildlife. Were it not for whatever protection or sheer luck I was enjoying my earlyer thoughts would have been more than correct since it seemed while teeming with life of all sorts this place looked every bit the battlefield as any I've seen in the past.

As with all quiet moments in life mine ended too soon for my liking and in a way that still feels all too much like someone had planned the affair. You see up untill i came upon their party I had thought there wouldn't be any people here. I wish perhaps either I had been right in that assumption or that I'd gotten there a few minutes sooner because when I found themm their encampment was in the late stages of being forcably dismantled by several exceedingly large doglike creatures simmiler to, but more animal like than, the kobold. Normally I would've simply passed by but as my misfortune would have it I saw a child clutching her knees to her chest behind one of the partially erect tents.

I could've done alot of thigns then...but even with so many options I knew I was going to go down there, and i knew I was a fool for rushing headlong into a large number of hostiles like I was doing. Its just that, even when made out of this spiritual crap that I was at the time I just couldn't stand by and watch as much as i couldn't pass by when I knew someone was still alive down there. So, muttering an oath and a prayer I half ran and half slid down the hill I was on as I loosened my scythe.

Perhaps it was because I wasn't bound by the constraints of a blood and bone body, maybe it was blind luck, hell maybe I could've done it reguardless, but these creatures fell to me as stalks of grain would. Unlike my time in the warrens I felt no exaultation, no rush of power or achievment. Instead i felt weary, which i had to chauck up to the strain so much fighting put on my current form.

"Hello?" I poked around the ruined endampment looking for survivors. "Anybody alive?" I'd hoped that whoever was alive wasn't looking for who would answer the questions of a ghost?" I sighed even while using the butt end of my weapon to prod through the dead, "I won't hurt you...I just want to talk." My feet stopped in front of the tent the little girl was hiding behind.

She didn't answer me even when I saw her turn to face me, but at least she didn't run. I kneeled so perhaps i wouldn't seem quite so frightening, "Where are you going little one?" She just stared at me, perhaps too frightened to move, "Its not safe out here alone...would you like me to go with you? I won't hurt you." I would've extended a hand to her but I was afraid what my touch would do to her. After all sometimes the touch of the dead has been known to suck the life out of the living.

"You don't have to answer me just," My mind fumbled for somethign to say, "Point the way you're headed." Had I thought about it I might've tried speaking with hte recently deceased since sometimes, especially when the dead leave loved ones behind, it takes awhile for the transition. However I didn't and so had to mke do with a vuagely northern direction, which was back the way I'd come from. Frowning to myself i got back to my feet and looked to where the girl pointed then to the girl herself, "Are you hurt?" she shook her head which seemed to be my cue to start walking. "Just stay close and I'll try to...well...you'll be alright if you stay close."

For a time all was quiet as we walked. Even after animals started attacking it felt, to me at least routine. My charge didn't so much as bat an eye even as the larger predetors came for us, which I had to suppose at the time was because of the recent shock of what'd happened.

My internal clock announced it was midday when she announced quite plainly, "I'm hungry."

Lord's above, below, and wherever I'm not equipped to raise children...

"I..." a quick look around showed a few mushrooms growing nearby as well as some berries. Of course I trusted neither to be safe for the child to eat since my abilities to live off the land were abysmal at best I had to warn her away from either and instead suggested a nearby spring she could drink out of. Since this seemed to satisfy her for the moment we stopped for a short rest, or rather i let her rest while I stood watch. When I looked at her resting there by the spring I noticed oddly familliar elven features. Dark hair, strangely bright eyes....even though all elves looked more or less to same to me i could see something of a resimbilance. Her recent loss however warned me away from mentioning any possible reletives.

Instead I asked in as gentle a manner as possible, "Do you know where you're supposed to go little one?"

She shook her head, "No...I'll know it when we get there though." Strange how her voice sounded, almost like it didn't match the rest of her.

"Are you sure?" I tried to keep my voice level so hopefully she wouldn't think I was accusing her of anything. "Its just that I have to find somebody here...Its sortof importaint."

"I know." Why did I not like how her eyes seemed to bore through me? "We were supposed to wait for somebody to lead us through the rest of the way, thats why our tents were still up so late."

"Oh?" I tried to keep from fidgeting with only limited success.

"Mhmm. And since you were the first person here that means you were who we were waiting for." She smiled at me and reached out to touch me. Instinctivly I backed away from her. Perhaps she didn't quite understand when I had told her earlyer why I didn't want to touch her, perhaps she chose that moment to forget, but either way I wasn't going to risk harming this child. she looked at me as she kept reaching, "You said you wouldn't hurt me Mr. Jeric."

"Its...not something I can control little one so please sit down."

"but-" Neither of us noticed the snake till it bit her, and once we did it made no difference. This place was strange but I knew the markings of this animal anywhere. It was what my father called a two step snake, owing to the fact that most men, once bitten, live only long enough to take two steps before going into convulsions. My mind already called forward the propper spells, one to withdraw the poison from her small body and a seconed to give her a portion of my life. I didn't know if it was going to be enough to stave off the venom's effects but it was all I had.

Luck was with me then both because the snake chose to slither away rather than stay and continue to brutalize the child and also because my magic seemed to have enough of an effect for her to survive. I swayed from exaustion and fell to the ground beside her. I was still whole, but too weak to get back to my feet.

So tired.

So very tired...

"Rest now." I felt warmth spread through my body. "you've earned it." It was the girl-child that spoke but the voice sounded different more...mature to an extent. Perhaps the speaker knew my mind was trying to puzzle things out for it chose to speak again, "All wil lbe made clear ater. Rest now." And then, seemingly at the voice's command, I drifted off.

When I woke I was back in my bed and very much alone. I'm not sure how much time had passed but it felt like I'd slept long and deep. After searching my room for any sign of my strange visitor I turned up several pages worth of writing in my own hand. what disturbed me more was the fact these pages detailed the whole encounter up untill I had passed out, or whatever had happened. Not a word of this will be breathed to anyone, never. I refuse to flatter myself wit hthe belief that any of the gods would be personally interested in my welfare. Still I have a priestess to visit and a faith to afferm within the walls of Haven's forum.

Just a little exposition based on a chance encounter, which I'm hoping will lead to some rather interesting roleplay after I'm able to return.

***

Cold Hard Cash

Its cold out here, so damned bloody cold. Why am I here shivering and huddled up just inside the enterance to where the ice giants dwell? I suppose the answer would be both simple as well as complicated. To put my answer in simple terms I'm short on money, there haven't really been that many job openings for a man of my means, what with every adventurer and his brother either at the warrens doing work that's ment for the Erudine millitia, or in the southern badlands taking care of newport's problem with the leoderth population. So, with both of those avinues of wealth blocked off for the time being, and me not having the propper skill in any of the usual handicrafts that people use to make a few extra platinum here and there I'm left out here in the freezing ice and snow with about three other folk chasing the almighty copper.

I suppose I should call them competition rather than companions since we're all after the same prize, that being what wealth and or sellables these gargantuine beings happen to have in their rather large pockets, however I won't split hairs since neither of them are really that importaint to this wee entry. What is importaint is that right now I'm still short on funds and I've heard rumors, courtasy of several other travelers, that auctions are being held near or even inside of newport's bank for a few articals of interest. Granted I could USE a few of the things being offered but this is where things get complicated.

It started, I suppose, right around the time that we lost access to the lands of magic. Granted that inccident was something I'd slept through due in large part to a strong dose of this fowl tasting concoction a troll I know wanted me to taist, but we'll just gloss over that part. At any rate I'd run into Tsabayne and this quite fetching young, well I suppose she's young for a drow, lady near the wizard spire that used to link the badlands to haeven of lore. I really do wish I'd recalled more of the convrosation since what little I do recall did stick quite firmly with me. Apparently Tsabayne's escort was none other than her daughter. I mean who knew the man had family? He can be quite friendly and charming, in his own ways, but the way I understand drow society he is an outcast and, what is equelly bad, male. Unless the girl's mother was somehow convinced to let her daughter leave, or perhaps...hmm, assasination isn't below what the man's capible of arranging since I know Kabre's had past dealings with him on the issue....best not mention it to anyone else, I happen to like living a little too much to finish that particular train of thought.

The other major thing that stuck with me concerning that chance encounter was that the girl, Talace I believe is her name(gods send that I don't offend either of them by mispronouncing a name), is a fellow student of necromancy. Strange really, even though I know that traditionally the Drow have a long and colorful history with the arts I practice. Still I find it strange that a woman would follow this path, then again there was that woman near the ruins close to Erudine so perhaps its only rare to see female innitiates. I also remember telling both Tsabayne and, probably more importaintly, Talace herself that given enough time I could probably scare up equipment thats better than the silken garments she wore when we met. Granted it means alot of bending over backwards and calling in a few personal favors with a few of the other cultists...and perhaps another trip to Rotbringer, but I did promise her traveling gear that would better serve her needs, and so far I believe I've come through quite nicely...thanks in no small part to several raids on the ruins.

I suppose Tsabayne will probably end up asking me to give the girl lessons. After all, from what I've gathered since our meeting she is young in her craft. Somehow I think I already know that I'm at high on the list of potential teachers and this frightens me. On one hand she interests me, especially since its rare to get an honest discussion out of the others I've met on my travels. On the other hand I know Tsabayne will be quite protective of his daughter, its something common to any parent and I can understand, at least on some level, why he would guard her so. This leads to a potential conflict of interests for the man. On the one hand he will likely want his daughter to recieve the best possible instruction as well as someone he can trust to not stab her in the back at the first moment it becomes conveniant, which conflicts directly with the fact that as her father he will judge no person to be trusted around his child without his direct supervision...and even then I doubt he'd really like the idea of some outsider potentially causing her to leave his side(or is it have her cast him away from his side....I'm not sure with elven politics at which would be his greater fear).

I'm honestly afraid I'm not up to the task of instruction, and given my personal viewpoints on how the world works she might not want my instruction anyway. Still, if I am asked I will make an honest attempt at showing her what knowledge I posess. Granted I'm sure she will be commanding and act as if I am some sort of servent in either her's or her father's service, or perhaps simply a tool(which I suppose wouldn't be far from the trueth, I do owe Tsasaybne for favors past, this would be his chance to collect). All I can do is pray that if she is as haughty and demanding as the others I'd been asked to help train...well, I simply ask that if there is a knife seeking my heart that I am able to detain her rather than kill her outright since her death would more likely than not mean my own.

I appologize in advance, Tsabayne, for postign this. Its just that I've had little if any creativity going in my favor concerning Dalaya lately and, just kinda wanted to show people one of the things that'd happened after jeric dropped out of the game.

Note: as of the writing of this letter its a few days before thanksgiving(or whatever equivilant holiday exists in Dalaya).


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Letters from Home

Its strange the things life puts you through isn't it? Few people I know, or at least those I keep company with at least, enjoy murder, which goes double for me. Yet, and there is always that 'and yet' or 'but' or whatever to these stories, here I am, hands stained in blood still, my scythe showing marks on its long handle from turning aside his sword. I don't know his name and I suppose that at least is some small saving grace. I wish it didn't happen as I wish alot of things in this world hadn't happened. Sadly though what we wish is not what the Gods hand down to us most times so I suppose its best to simply make do and learn from what's tossed your way.

None from the seekers, if they still exist as such, has heard from me in quite some time. I've heard strange things as of late, none of which I'll comment on till my business here is done and I can see for myself just how the world fairs. Granted its only been about a month, as of the time I've begun pinning this down, since I've been gone but who knows how long it will take to reach the postmistress at newport? At any rate I felt it best to risk a written message as opposed to more conveniant means because it seems either our 'exaulted' prophet's magic has wained to the point where communication by usual means has become impossible, or I have for some reason or another been cast out(I could hardly care which is the case given our prophet's apparent inability to come down from whichever ivory tower he holes up in to answer the questions of the rabble he's gathered).

Now I suppose you wish to know the details while they're still freash to me. Granted you are no judge, or even, dispite whatever rings you might happen to carry with you these days Kabre, an officer of the peace. Still...I have my reasons for wanting to explain myself. I'd never ment to do more than talk, nothing more. you see I'd spent the past few weeks working at first with my father, then alone when he contracted this illness, what I fear to be a new, or perhaps very old, strain of pluage.

It started with my niece and at first I dismissed it as any number of ailments children pick up and just as easily overcome. Perhaps it was that delay that allowed it to spread, perhaps not but I stand by how my family had acted, my father is learned in his craft and, while far different than my own, equelly capible in curing, or at the least containing, deseases. My father and I had long ago made amends for the path I had taken and sadly its taken this illness to prove to the rest of my family that my having chosen another path of magic, to fill in the gaps that had been missing before. Together my father and i could've stopped this ailment before it progressed too far, perhaps even soon enough to prevent my niece's untimely death.

Trouble is, and I only confirmed this suspicion shortly before stopping to pin down this letter, that it was something brought from the pluagelands and was altered through some process I'm still working on duplicating to find out how best to contain this illness should it rise again. I'm getting ahead of the story I'm trying to tell however so please bear with me. After my father, not to mention most of the women of my family(for they were the ones who were most often in contact with the sick, and without either natural or magical immunity) it fell to me to bury the dead and ease the suffering of those too far gone for any form of cure(my father, a quite accomplished druid, even for being human, as well as an herbalist, and myself had worked on several that seemed to at least alleviate the symptoms, though sadly they will not stop the desease).

After things had settled, that is to say everyone had died and i had seen to their dismemberment(to prevent any others of my art from raising their bodies) and burial I had gone to search for Rotbringer. I'm sure you've heard the name before either from myself or through your wizard friend's daughter but in case you either hadn't been paying attention(I've seen how your eys glaze over when magic is discussed and its perfictly understandable, I'd do the same if you were talking to me about lock picking) or hadn't stayed to ignore the details I ill explain in brief. He is the man who had constructed my scythe and lives in the southern badlands in a remote fortlike structure playing with his potions and other nonsense. I'd dismissed him out of hand after he had given me my weapon since at the time he seemed to me little more than an old man who proved useful only on occasion and in general appeared to be of little danger. How was I to know?

Please you have to understand Kabre the man seemed at the very least half mad and the other half belonging to a tired old man who was on the edge of senility. If I'd known he was capible of doing what he'd claimed would be possible I'd have killed him myself. Sadly this wasn't the case and worse yet when I'd finally found his home I'd found nothing, none of his experamints, none of the animals he'd used and most certaintly not the man himself. Then again I'm half convinced with him its a family operation since I had heard rumors of his death well prior to my leaving and had even been shown what looked to be his head which I can assure you wasn't the case for at the time I was still gathering materials to aid in Talace's journies, a scythe of her own was, at the time, one of the many things on my list at the time to gather.

...Kabre this thing I swear to whichever God you would have me swear by would likely infect anyone without some form of protection, likely infect if you were so much as breathed on ONCE from someone with this illness. It truely frightens me, and the only good news I have to offer is that it seems that my community, and in particular my family, seem to be the only cases I've seen. I'm telling you all this, even risking possible contamination by sending this letter(I've done all I can think of to make sure that nothing has contaminated either the paper or the ink so it SHOULD be safe, but there's always that risk).

I don't know what you can do save perhaps warn others away for a time, but then again ours is a remote community even by badland's standards. I'd give you directions on how best to reach where 'here' happens to be but by the time you get this letter and make your journy I'll have set fire to the place. After burning everything to the ground and making sure that it isn't possible for the dead to either be disturbed or used to spread this thing, I'll probably head out to Erudine and from there to explore the ruins near there. I know the place well enough to know where I can safely rest and make a home of sorts, if only for a short while.

With Respect,
Jeric Hikari

Postscript 1: I'm not sure how or when a return message would find me but I would like to know how the world has treated you as of late. That and its a pity but I will, I'm afraid, have to miss any celebrations being held for the solstace Oh and one more thing if possible I'd like news concerning Jink. I still owe the troll for favors past and you know I hate to leave old debts unsettled.

Jeric Hikari,


Forgive my intrusion, but your letter has made it into my hands. Kabre, unfortunately, is recovering from a close encounter he had with the Mists in the Faydark and cannot respond at this time. We were able to pull his body away from the things and resurrect him. He is expected to make a complete recovery, but for now he is resting in Athica.

I am both intrigued and frightened by your mention of this disease. I would like to discuss this in detail with you, for I have other information that may or may not be related. Following the termination of the necromancer guild in Oggok I have been relieved of my duties as ambassador and thusly I have relocated my offices to Athica, and would prefer to meet here as I am currently finding travel difficult.

My daughter, Talace, has gone missing. I fear her fascination with necromancy may have led her into some questionable company. If you are in good standing with the more secretive sects of necromancers, try to find her and, if possible, bring her home to me. Hers is an interest that is without malice or cruelty, but I fear with the wrong influences she could become something terrible.




Tsabayne Noquraeneld

YOu know, the strange thing about this one is I don't even remember writing it. I end up dozing off, wake up, and there it is. Strange, happened before a few times...so eh...

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Strands

It has been awhile since I've bothered to pen my thoughts down, far longer than I care to even think about if honesty is required. How should I feel? I wish I knew, but I don't nor is it likely that I will, at least not anytime soon I won't. Enough time has passed for me to have moved on after a fashion. What's being written doens't make much sense, not that that's the point, but it still troubles me.

I had decided it best to stay in Erudine for a time to get my bearings before moving on to this Athica I've heard about. Too many rumors about the place and I'm not sure what's real and what's simply...hell...I need to stop meandering and start focusing.

Fine.

Two nights ago I had paid the inkeeper as well as several of the others that work here to follow a simple set of instructions. So far they have done as I have told them, but if I don't tell them the why of the matter I'm sure one or more will get it in their fool heads to start poking around. Hopefully they will know to leave well enough alone in this case, and if a little platinum won't secure their cooperations I could give them a demonstration of what might happen if they grow careless.

I'm not one to lightly make threats, and its a risk in even attempting such experiments here, especially since I'm not quite sure how much longer my purse will hold out. Progress is slow, but for now I beleive I have time. The first round of therapy has proven...insightful, though I wish there were a way to tell wether or not mice could feel pain and how much they were in.

A gamble I suppose since there are things yet I probably should know, but I cannot trust any of the rest of my order, nor would I likely find aid elsewhere. I'm on the right track, however thats something I'd been sure of when Father and I were working on this problem together. Those treated survive those that arn't, even if only by a few days. Its not enough though since its just bearly having any effect. Perhaps if I start the next run with mice that've only just become infected I will see better results.

No its not good enough! A cure's no good to anybody if it only works right after being exposed. I need to...


Stop. Take a few deep breaths.

Relax.

I'm trying to take in too big of a chunk too soon. Having something that would work right after exposure is a step in the right direction. Perhaps Tsabayne's news will show me something. I can't rely on him though...wait, his letter said the guild in Oggok was disbanded. Figures since they'd want to strengthen their ties t onewport. Maybe this's something he'd learned before his dismissal. Maybe- No!

Don't even think it, don't write it. Don't say it.

Father, I wish you were here.

For this I would definatly like some outside oppinion on how to proceed. One thing is a certainty though, unless for some reason a cure exists(he hasn't done the newport rings quests yet and even if he did he isn't sure what the effects of the herbs you're supposed to gather are) he won't make much progress byond either slowing the desease or containing it with a treatment that must continue regularly else it will start up again.

I predict it would take a year, probably several, for him to get to a state of perfict containment however(as in with the treatment in place the person is completley helathy seeming as opposed to being somewhat sick/having a persistaint cough/good days and bad days).


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Weave


I don't usually make enteries so close together, however I must make recordings of my observations so far since, even if I can't make any headway on this then perhaps somebody else will. The original mice I had bought are now incenerated and their ashes kept in a sealed jar to prevent possible contamination. I've since bought more and am continuing as before.


Out of the dozen mice I had infected three with cultures grown from samples taken from cases originating in the pluagelands. Three others I'd infected with samples taken from Rotbringer(much as I want to tear the man's skull out and beat him to death with it just to see if its possible I have to avoid drawing undue attention from the cultists for awhile yet.). Three others I had infected with samples taken from home. The remaining three I left uninfected for the sake of comparing each against a control

For the sake of brevity I have labled each group's cages as follows:

Pluage

Rot

Badlands

Uninfected.

For now I intend on leaving one mouse from each of the infected groups untreated. One will be treated in the manner my father and i had treated the cases we had to deal with. The final one will be treated according to my new, as yet untested, method. For now I have little hope that this will yield anything spectacularly different as each strain of pluage I am testing is quite resistaint to magical as well as herbal remedies. However babysteps are better than standing still if it will point me in the right direction. It will take a few hours time before I can tell if the either of the treatments are having any affect whatsoever.

In the meantime there is another test I wish to preform to see how the kobold immune system compares to a human's based on how long it takes for a person to recover from desease I know, on average, it takes a healthy adult human male one week to recover from. The test subject is, so far as I can tell, a healthy adult male kobold and barring adventuring parties killing my intended subject prematurely I will ensnare him and place him in a section of the caves that grants a fair bit of privecy.

Hit something of a roadblock here. I know Tsabayne could offer several choice events from the past I could type out to get a few good laughs. Thing is I can't exactly think of what to add between here and there without setting myself up for ether making a character who's, in writing, claiming to do more than is rightly possible within the world itself reguarding the pluage. I do suppose though its easy for soemthing that looks like its making progress to either miss the mark, hit a brick wall, or, for whatever reason, become quite unusable(possibly due to a concoction taisting so foul that you couldn't get even trolls to keep it down long enough to work for example).

*shrug*

Fishing for ideas.

More for the five of you who happen to lief through these things.

Enjoy.

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Entrophy

Tell me, what's the propper thing to say when you've just found out that you're the accidentil murderer of your family? Not sure really what to say for myself except that yes I know I'm probably being harsh on myself since they were by then already infected. Its just that.... damnit..... that supposed treatment my father and I had worked on wasn't.

Its hard for me to explain so forgive me, whoever you are, for mincing words. For a time the potion I'd been treating my mice with did in fact seem to kill off the infection. Generally though, and I cant' be sure on exactly when since the time seems to vary from indavidual to indavidual, they all suddenly regress and die either from the desease itself or from the shock of going from perfictly healthy to the full blossom of illness within a few hours. Maybe I'm giving the incorrect dosage, or its making them suseptible to another illness but to be blunt I don't bloody know where I went wrong!

"Filthy lying maggot ridden-"

SHUT UP!

Did I just write that? Damnit, and I can't-

"Why did you kill us?"

I really wish she'd shut up. No, scratch that, I wish she'd go away but then this leads into a more pressing matter than my past failings. You see I believe I'm either dillusional or perhaps I hadn't quite filed everything away as neatly as I'd hoped since I know this thing isn't real. Its not a ghost or spectre or anything that exists outside of my mind yet here she is plain as day to me looking every bit like my mother. Only its not my mother since all she seems to do is hurl insults at me or remind me of where I've gone wrong in the past.

"Is that any way to talk about your mother dear? A figmint of your imagination am I? You wish it were so easy! Whie you were digging holes in the ground doing gods alone knows what to decent folk's poor dead reletives I was out there with your father in the hot son slaving away-"

I SAID SHUT UP WOMAN!

You see my problem? Right now the problem is reletivly small one that can be contained. However I won't take the chance of this worsening while I'm around people. I suppose it should be funny, here I am immune from pretty much everything and here I have a mental defect that won't shut up and let me alone. I plan on sending a copy of this entry to Tsabayne before I go. Hopefully he'll understand my delay in contacting his daughter.

"Oh so you're afraid I'll scare the poor girl off now? Since when did you ever let me stand in the way of whores in your life?"

She won't shut up and, Gods help me, right now there's nothing I can do to keep her from making her mind known. If I start having a fit in front of her or....

"...Afraid daddy dearest will find what you have in mind for his little girl hmm?"

I'm just going to stop writing now and pray that any...outbursts seen here arn't counted against me since I don't intend on returning till this complication dissapears entierly.

Necromancy GO!

No entry here as I still don't have the time, or connectivity, to invest right now. However hopefully soon that'll change which leads me to here. I've not been on the server for a year now. So then, if I wish to keep my character viable for roleplaying how would I go about explaining the missing time?

Darian Maliken said:

Necromancy GO!

No entry here as I still don't have the time, or connectivity, to invest right now. However hopefully soon that'll change which leads me to here. I've not been on the server for a year now. So then, if I wish to keep my character viable for roleplaying how would I go about explaining the missing time?

Click to expand...

Travels abroad

Exile somewhere

Prolonged necromantic hybernation

*snicker*

I could see that.

"Where have you been?! i thought you were dead!"

"I was."

"Whaaaaa?"

Do not ask, for I shall not tell. However if all stays on track great things are indeed on the way. So then..... enjoy.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Home again I suppose. The badlands were a familiar sight to me now as were its variety of friendly, not so friendly, and downright corrupted wildlife. It was during one of those rather unsavory encounters with one of the corrupted that I found myself being pursued by a herd of centaurs. Normally they have a policy of keeping out of my way as long as I don't interfere with their doings but this particular band had been corrupted by the same spirits that blighted much of the rest of the animals. Strange that the centaurs are capable of being corrupted while humans(and elves, trolls, etc etc) are not, the spirits just pass adventurers by looking for a readily avaliable host to taint with its dark and violent intent. I've tested a few ideas in times past and had found that people in general are incompatible to whatever form of corruption these spirits pass on.

Back to my story I suppose. Strange that the centaurs that had pursued me were traveling in a band as generally anything that has been corrupted by the local spirits immediately attacks anything and everything around itself. there are ways of telling if a particular creature is tainted or not and as a necromancer i possessed more talent than your more mundanely inclined traveler in spotting these signs. One I could have taken on with little problem, two or three, fine, I might have been able to go against if I were in good form and well rested. Twelve? The only thing I could do was to expend a spell that would give off the impression that so long as I remained still I would appear to anything that I was dead and more than a little diseased.

Normally this strategy works in removing even the most warped and twisted blood thirsty and or just plain hungry creature in losing interest as there is no suffering gained by mutilating the dead and in the case of the more mundanely affected creatures few things will eat what is seen as diseased meat. This particular band however seemed content in waiting for me to drop my guise whereupon they visit unto me quite extensive agony. Why they didn't simply do this while I was laying prone and unlikely to fight back is beyond me. Perhaps this was some variant of the spirits I had grown used to seeing. Maybe they were simply did not know if I was alive rather than knowing, or perhaps I simply suffered from rotten luck and had used my magic where they normally came to rust and thus they would not move till another unwary traveler happened by.

How long I slept I cannot say, but when I finally woke it was to a situation that anyone that uses that particular spell to escape pursuit fears most. Somebody, or more likely a group of somebodies, had driven away the centaurs and as I slept mistook me for a body they had savaged for my magic gave the illusion of true death by masking the usual vital signs one associates with the living. Put bluntly I had been buried alive and was barely able to think much less move. How was I still alive even after having been buried? My one guess was that somehow my magic was sustaining me, that or I hadn't been buried long enough to begin suffering from asphyxiation.

My escape was as simple as it was clever. My familiar, a skeleton I had animated and long used to preform minor tasks was merely resting, giving off the impression that it was little more than a pile of bones laying on the ground. Magic pulsed in my body as I focused my mind on the commands. I knew she could free me, yet if I was not absolutely crystal clear in giving orders she might start digging in the wrong place, or worse...keep digging even after I had been uncovered and thus kill me while I was unable to give her the command to halt.

Come to me Lilith. Rise from your slumber and come to my aid.

Deep down I was worried something would go wrong, that she would get intercepted and destroyed maybe, that she would get turned about and not find me. Many such worries flitted through my head as time seemed to slow. What was keeping her? I needn't have worried of course for as time passed by I had taught my skeletal familiar a measure of knowledge so she wasn't quite as mindless as I had innitially found her. However because her knowledge was magically given to her I did not know how far I could trust it, or for that matter, her capabilities. Wait. How was she supposed to dig? Hastily I issued a command to find a shovel.

More time slipped by. There was nothing more I could do but to wait and hope. Funny how the looming probability of Death can cause you to take a long hard look at your life. What kind of man would I be remembered as? I had hoped that even though I walk a dark and slippery path that I would be remembered as a good man yet.....and yet...hard to think, but I must!

I drew heavily on my magic then. Though none of my spells could help me leave my earthen prison there were ways of prolonging my stay with a minimum chance of damage. Let the magic guide me as my awareness expanded.

There!

And there again!

Life. Sweet life above. Focus, must focus on the magic. Ignore the burning in my lungs. Be still my wavering heart. Let my magic flow into them. My need is far greater and far more immediate than theirs. Life flowed into me, a bare trickle, but its sustaining warmth loosened Old Grim's grip on my soul. I needed more, so much more....but I dare not take, not if they be human.....

Can't breath.

Gods help me I don't know where I am! Get a grip, I'm not there anymore. I'm safe in my home....I've escaped that prison with my life intact. I'm whole.

I dare not sleep, not yet. Not yet when I may find myself back in the cold ground alone...

Help me, please Gods somebody help me. I...

-Sleep.-

I can't!

-Be not afraid child. You are safe. None will hurt you this night.-

Mama? No, it can't be...it isn't the same woman that's been hounding my mind these past months. There's warmth in that voice where scorn filled the other's. Her face is calm now, the woman I remembered.

-Rest child.-

I can't fight it any longer. If I survive with my sanity intact I will continue writing. If not...then whoever find this please have mercy and kill me.

-Do not pray for Death when you have fought so hard to escape His grip.-

Sound advice if I've ever heard any. Perhaps now I should stop and explain a great deal of things to whomever is reading this, but I've faced Death yet again and have lived to tell the tale. So while my body feels invigorated by my ordeal, perhaps out of sheer spitefulness, my mind has yet to sort through the details and I've yet to discover the root cause behind my hallucinations.

Sleep come and claim me for the day has been long.
Let my mind dwell not on the places dark and foreboding,
and let this weary servant find his place in your Design.