Journal Lharvion 6th - Lharvion 9th

998 Lharvion 6th

I am penning this missive after fleeing Emerald Claw mounted infantry. Our escape from Rose Quarry was detected and we were forced to flee for our lives. Apparently the uncanny senses of the Emerald Claw commander, Garrow, discovered our covert nocturnal forays into the ruin of Rose Quarry. This vampire, for so I took him to be, confronted us as we attempted to slip out of Rose Quarry and return to Failin’s elemental wagon. The vampire, Garrow, thanked us for solving the “puzzle” for him and then sent two of his thugs against us. I do not fear the Emerald Claw rank and file but I knew that even a weak vampire could be powerful enough to destroy our fledgling company. Luck was on our side as these Emerald Claw warriors preferred stealth over speed and had not equipped themselves with a lantern. Therefore, I abandoned stealth and unshielded our lantern in hopes that the improved visibility would allow us to outstrip our night-blinded pursuers. My plan succeeded and we reached Failin and the elemental wagon far ahead of our enemies. Our company hastily dismantled the make-shift camp. We did not waste any time organizing and compartmentalizing as this could be done later. The sound of pursuing hooves seemed jarringly loud in the still night but the Emerald Claw warriors never came close to intercepting our swift wagon in the concealing darkness. Unbeknownst to our company, the Emerald Claw enforcers gamely pushed on through the night and well into the morning. They caught up with us shortly after we were again underway, having paused for no more than a brief nap and some food. I am no fool and had prepared the eventuality of a running mobile combat. We had a counter to the severe dangers that such a conflict would involve. Vaegar quickly tied us off with pieces of Zed’s rope to prevent falls from the wagon and the resulting tactical isolation (or worse the potential killing-crush of the wagon’s weighty stone wheels). I placed myself on the driver’s bench adjacent to Failin to employ healing magics to counter any threat to him should the Emerald Claw warriors realize that the most efficient method of stopping the racing wagon would be to eliminate its dragon marked driver. As it turned out our preparations were unnecessary as only five Emerald Claw soldiers pursued us. The first man-at-arms was pierced through and through by Vaegar and Elarin long before they could close with the wagon. Another was slain at close range with mundane missiles and Elarin’s firebolt spell. The final three warriors split up, one riding to the rear of the wagon, and one to either side. All three of them fell, injured or slain, attempting to board Failin’s bouncing wagon. Only the Emerald Claw rider on Failin’s side of the wagon actually succeed in gaining a foothold in the wagon and he was cleanly decapitated by Zed’s great sword before he wrought harm to our guide.

998 Lharvion 7th noon

Despite the disorientation, we have passed through the titanic curtain of mist and entered the dreaded Mournland itself. We were fortunate in that Failin’s gratitude provided us with transportation all the way to fog wall thus saving us many long hours of toil.

998 Lharvion 8th morning

Words alone are inadequate to describe horrors of the Mournland. I thought that I was prepared. That as a chronicler of objective magical phenomenon, I could be detached and report on the peculiarities of the Mournland without passion or trepidation. But now that I am here I find myself at loss of words for the first time in my one hundred and six years of life.
Shall I write of the greatest horror I witnessed in this cursed and shattered land? And if so which do I choose? The ghoul-children and their crucifixion of the elderly? The caterwauling of the land-that-is-flesh when my dagger blooded it?

Is it better that I should write of the uncanny? Should I write of the face that was seen living in a storm cloud? Or is it more necessary that I relate the salty rains that fall from such clouds, both tears and blood?

Is it better for me to write of the macabre, the unholy death that is yet denied the peace of decay? Do I write of the living infant trapped within the cold womb of a corpse, locked within timeless death but denied true release? Or is the sheer numbers of dead more significant than a single isolated tragedy? Are the armies of un-rotted corpses carpeting their former fields of battle of higher significance?

No it is all too much. Awe overwhelms and words are inadequate. The thousand details in every glance of the Mournland defy codification in mere language. The only way to know the Mournland is to see the Mournland with one’s own naked eyes. The Sovereign Host ward those that dare it.

998 Lharvion 8th late afternoon

My companions and I have at last located and penetrated the subterranean workshop of house Cannith; the mysterious Whitehearth. Vaegar is currently working out the enchanted key system. Apparently this first room is actually a sort of a door in its own right. A giant spherical door that is rotated by the gem-keys to allow access to the various areas of the compound via a single aperture. Vaegar seems to know what he is about so I leave him to his work and use the time to ponder other matters that are more within my purview. I am nurturing the kernel of a stratagem that should give us a significant advantage once we gain the schema. It may be paranoia brought on by the desolation of the Mournland, but I am beginning to question the wisdom of this entire expedition and our trust in the mysterious Lady Elaydren. We could be placing world-shattering power in the hands of someone that will play us false when the opportunity presents itself. It maybe that no one, myself included, should obtain this schema if there is any chance that it could be used as a weapon to inflict more “mournlands” upon perceived enemies. I would not see this tragedy repeated, not even to Droam, nor even the Demon Wastes. Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. My belief in this old human saw may be uncharacteristic for my people but this does not necessarily call into question its veracity. This bears more consideration……….

998 Lharvion 8th night

We have just battled and destroyed one of the more bizarre and terrifying denizens of the Mournland; a living spell. This particular living spell was generated by a fire sphere spell. In error I took the living spell to be a fire elemental. My blunder nearly cost Zed his life as his defensive position in the shallow pool of water proved to be little protection from the living spell’s predations. I then compounded my folly by casting a rainbow spell to protect Zed, who was at that time engulfed within the fire spell’s living essence. The flame spell, apparently being some sort of enchanted ooze, was immune to the stunning power of my spell. Disastrous as Zed was not so protected. The spell that was meant to save Zed instead left him helpless against this horrific monster. I was nearly powerless before this beast and feared for our survival. When it seemed that Zed would surely be slain, Elarin entered the fray and laid into the spell-presence with his cold ray cantrip. It was this spell, and the creature’s vulnerability, more than anything else, that delivered victory from the jaws of defeat.

998 Lharvion 8th later that night

My companions and I encountered a small pack of intelligent, talking dire wolves. Apparently these dire wolves were lab animals of the Canniths and the magical backlash caused by the Day of Mourning shocked them into sentience. We undertook a mission for their alpha female, one “Rosa”. Her litter of pups had been captured by an abomination, a perversion of nature. It was some sort of a stone-clad and stone-toothed wolf-golem. Rosa herself guided us to the lair of the vulpine golem but she feared it too much to assist us against it. The fearsome construct charged us sheathed in a barely visible aura which inflicted a debilitating hesitation curse upon Zed. The magics fired by Elarin and myself dissipated harmlessly before reaching the wolf construct. Vaegar’s crossbow was barely more effective when pitted against the thing’s stony hide. Just as despair was beginning to take hold, Zed struck the canine golem a mighty blow that cleaved through the stone armor and, critically, it seemed to paralyze the creature. Seizing the opportunity, Zed rained blow after blow ignoring the hesitation magic. A mere handful of blows dismembered the obsidian toothed horror. If not for Zed, and his prowess as a living golem, it is unlikely that any of us would have walked away from such a battle.

998 Lharvion 8th still later that night

We have just encountered another of the living-spell oozes. This particular creature was a living version of my own, very familiar, rainbow spell. As such, I knew that the creature could do little to harm us. This gave us a significant advantage and the creature was quickly dispatched.

998 Lharvion 9th shortly after midnight?

Thanks to Vaegar’s uncanny skill with subterranean navigation, we have finally located the room that contains the object of our quest; the diamond shaped schema of Whitehearth! We are too exhausted to risk open battle and have decided it would be both prudent and safe to hole up and rest before the final engagement with whatever guardians the Canniths left to protect this priceless artifact. If there is no next entry you can guess my fate………