Yay! I'm finally on the board!
Here's my Journal of the last event:
Friday started much as any other day. I walked my usual route through the village, curing a few minor colds, mending the few superficial injuries that accompany the day to day activities of a village. Old man Edgar’s hands were hurting again, so once more I relieved the swelling around the joints. He’ll be without pain for a few more days.
Then, as evening arrived, so did the Dark Elves.
Two groups of them. One hunting the other. The first group was composed of half-human Dark Elves – and who were apparently former slaves of the group hunting them. A pair of elderly humans, apparently the fathers of a couple of the Dark Elves, accompanied them. They sought aid from us, and claimed the other group was part of an army bent on conquering all lands.
The second group did claim they were hunting the first, but that the first group was composed of criminals, traitors, and murderers. They sought our help in their capture. Neither group threatened us directly, but left no doubt what might happen should we help their foes.
Now, I had never met a Dark Elf before, but had read much about them while I lived in the Temple. There are many tales of their cruelty, trickery, and deception. Based on these tales, wisdom indicated not to put too much trust in either party.
Regardless, we apparently could not provide aid to one side without incurring the wrath of the other. For the sake of the town, we chose to remain politely neutral. Indeed, their conflict now appears to have passed us by.
One of the Dark Elves, not related to either group, has chosen to stay in Haven, along with a Dwarf companion who was apparently raised as a servant in the Underdark. Their story must be an interesting one – someday I hope to hear it.
The rest of the night passed quietly. While seated at the campfire, an elderly woman approached, and spoke to us of damaged Time. She claimed a man would arrive tomorrow evening, and would have for us a solution. She never explained how she knew all this, but Time has been disrupted for several months now, and at this point I think we’re willing to try anything. We all agreed to meet at the Inn at six o’clock tomorrow to encounter this man.
The next morning was full of surprises.
The Time distortions were worse than usual. We were awakened by fearsome creatures never before seen attacking the Hall. Later, several townsfolk, myself included, were assaulted by strangely dressed men wielding long, powerful wands they called ‘Gons’. These ‘Gons’ could discharge rapidly – emitting fire, smoke, and thunder while ripping holes in whatever they pointed at. Needless to say, they caused much damage – though I believe all who were hurt received the treatment they needed. These men with ‘Gons’ disappeared as quickly as they appeared, as had the fearsome beasts.
Not long after, our Guild was visited by Master Hannan and myself, both appearing as we had nearly 20 years ago, shortly after I arrived at the Temple of the Order of Life. I took the opportunity to speak at length with Master Hannan – the tutor, trainer, and father-figure who raised me for more than a decade – to learn from his boundless wisdom. I explained to him the cataclysm, the rending to the world, and my fears concerning the fate of the Order.
It was then that he suggested I construct a new temple and become its headmaster.
For a moment I was struck mute by his statement. When at last I found my voice I asked about the Balance. Our numbers had always been kept small and tightly controlled for a reason. How could I create a new temple when the fate of the original was unknown? What consequences would befall the world should two temples of the Order of Life exist?
Master Hannan responded only with a wary smile, called my younger self to him, and said the time had come for him to depart.
As usual, my conversations with Master Hannan had left me without direct answers, but much to contemplate. I left the Guildhall and walked to the village – in part to clear my mind, but also to see if any villagers had been harmed by these time anomalies.
I arrived in time to see several other members of the Guild of Light being thanked profusely by several villagers for saving their lives. However, my fellow Guild members had no recollection of having done so. Apparently, these villagers were from the future, and had unknowingly given us a chance to head off future suffering.
Asking a number of questions, we learned they had been caught and tortured by a demented farmer from this very village. The torture had gone on for some time, and many had died because of it. Only these few men were still alive when the Guild of Light at last intervened.
We asked these survivors to take us to the place we had rescued them from. They led us to an abandoned and overgrown barn – unused for some time. The torture had thankfully yet to begin. The owner of the barn turned out to be the evil Miller who had been dispatched a year ago.
After questioning some village elders, we learned of two farmers who had been close friends or acquaintances of the Miller – who might see reason to use this barn in the future. We split into two groups to investigate each of their farms.
As the group I was with approached our destination, the farmer we sought greeted us. We talked for some time, and the more we talked, the more reluctant he became at letting us take a closer look at his estate. He was clearly hiding something, and was therefore likely the one who would later set up a torture facility in the abandoned building.
Armed with this knowledge from the future, I continued on toward his barn while my comrades kept the farmer distracted with conversation. At last the farmer noticed me, and shouted a hail. I gave a friendly reply but did not slack my pace.
The farmer ran to catch up.
By this time he reached me, I had reached his barn – which I could now see was covered in the same arcane runes we have discovered at other trouble spots. When the farmer realized I could not be dissuaded from investigation, he reluctantly admitted me into the barn.
Through the interior gloom, I saw a ghastly machine against the far wall. Mounted on it were a woman and three children – needles in their wrists slowly draining away their blood. My surgeon’s mind quickly realized the rate of loss, though constant, was not fatal. Buckets of dark liquid throughout the structure stood grim testimony to the long months this process had gone on. Was the blood to fertilize his crops, as originally suspected, or was he aiding the Vampire? There was no time to consider this - the farmer had entered the barn quietly behind me and closed the door. I heard the click of a lock.
I turned to face the farmer, a grim determination growing on his face, and smiled sadly. The door he had just secured could not stand against my companions any more than this simple man. Though he stood before me alive with dark intent, I knew he was all ready beyond my aid.
He attacked, while the splintering of wood announced the immanent arrival of my friends. With shield and mace I kept his blows off me until the barn was swarming with warriors, and the farmer could no longer focus on me. As the battle raged, I pulled the woman and children from the machine and set to mending their wounds. Indeed, by the time I had finished with them, the farmer was no longer in this world.
We escorted the woman and children – who were the farmer’s own family – back to the village. Though I could mend them physically, their minds bore great wounds that are best tended by family and friends. We arrived in town in time to catch the other investigative group ready to depart on yet another quest – a mission to obtain special herbs needed to help fix Time. Clearly an important task, our group joined in to help.
Gideon seemed to know where the herbs were, so we followed him down a trail out into the woods. Before long a group of bandits, possibly remnants of the Warlord, waylaid us. The battle was brief, and before long the two surviving bandits fled into the woods. I tended to the minor wounds suffered by my companions. Of the bandits, none survived. It would seem my friends have grown wise to my ways, and saw fit to ensure their defeated opponents retained no spark of life for me to nurture before moving on to face another foe. Though I mourn the loss of every life, I understand the practicalities Death can provide, and thought no more of the fallen brigands.
Ka chased after the fleeing bandits and killed one of them. Unfortunately, the remainder was a archer, who harried us from the woods for some time. At last, Donavon chased after the archer, and for awhile both were lost to the dense foliage surrounding us.
Then the silence of the woods was broken by a powerful roar followed by a horrendous scream. Several of us crashed through the woods toward the source of the noise, only to find a blood spattered field and a shocked Donavon. He explained that, as he fought the archer, a great beast emerged from the woods and took the archer in one bite.
As luck would have it, we encountered a couple of hunters seeking to slay that very beast. But as we moved down the trail, the beast struck us several times with incredible speed – first downing one hunter, then the other, before our party was able to fall upon the monster. After fierce fighting, the beast lay dead, and many of our fighters wounded. After some rest, repair of armor, and tending of wounds, we moved on.
We came to a wall of glowing energy. Before it: a circle containing six stones, beyond it: six statues stood sentinel. Gideon spent some time examining the stones and magic wall, seeking a way through. Unfortunately, his investigations inadvertently set off a trap.
Walls of force surrounded our entire party, and the stone sentries became mobile and attacked us. Our weapons did very little against them – even my mace, infused with the essence of Life, could only chip away at our foes - and gradually we were being overwhelmed. A dwarf fell before their blows, and thrice I attempted to aid her – but every time I was batted aside by the golems. Eventually she succumbed to her wounds and expired. In desperation, I hurled myself past the statues and kneeled at her side. With all my strength, I pulled at the departing life energies and secured them back within her dead body – returning to it the barest spark of life. With ultimate concentration, I sought to nurture that energy , to expand it. To fill her again with essence and use it to seal her wounds. By my will alone, blood gradually began to fill her veins, organs regenerated, Life began to flow. By itself, my magic could not save her, but I saw it would be enough – I had enough potions in my pouch to finish the job. She could live…
But the golems would not allow it. A bludgeoning fist slammed across my back – knocking me aside and disrupting my concentration. Helplessly, I watched as the meager essence within the dwarf instantly dissipated, leaving her well and truly dead. There was nothing more I could do. Such are the fortunes of war, and there was no time currently for mourning or rites. The golems continued to press their attack, and those before them continued to fall.
But just as all hope seemed lost, the magic walls faded and the golems vanished. There was no time to wonder what had saved us, as many were in need of aid. Fortunately, without the golems to interfere, no others lost their lives.
Once recovered, we continued on, and at last the herbs we fought and died for came into sight. But as we approached, giant moles sprang from the earth and attacked us. Though weak and blind, they were without number. We fought through to the herbs, and once secured, had to break free of the killing grounds and flee the area. Exhausted, we returned to the village, but our trials were not yet over.
The man with the Solution to mend Time was there. He told us we must reforge the Sundial with Mithrel. He gave us the ritual to make Mithrel – which required the herbs we had just obtained at great cost… and fresh flesh from a Dragon. He even gave us direction to the Dragon.
So apparently Dragons do exist. Or, at least, the rend in Time had brought one to this land. Now we had to cut flesh from its body. Every able bodied adventurer in town assembled for this task. The collective skills and abilities of those assembled composed a most formidible force, but from what I had read of Dragon myths, we would not stand a chance against one in battle.
Still, the threat posed to us by broken Time required that we try. We traveled to a dangerous swamp, and were assailed by frightening creatures the entire way. Still, we all knew this was nothing compared to the danger awaiting us at our destination.
At last we arrived. Before us stood a meek and unassuming cottage, from which emerged a man of little note. But I recalled some Dragon myths claimed they could assume the form of a man. This myth proved forged of truth. Another myth declared Dragons possessed near infinite wisdom. This one was also true, as the Dragon knew everything about us. Clearly he was amused, for he did not slay us outright, though he knew we meant him harm. So I parlayed with him.
“You must know why we are here, and what we seek.”
“Yes.”
“Our goal is to fix Time, itself. Surely you can appreciate this.”
“Yes, but you need my flesh. That is a high price. What do I get in return?”
“Other than stabilized Time? What do you ask of us?”
“Hmm. What if I could come to you, sometime in the future, and ask a favor of you?”
This was better than I could have expected! The Dragon was being so lenient with us! Yes, he could ask a favor, but if it was beyond our measure, we had the option to refuse. But then another Guildmember declared “Give us your flesh, and the Guild of Light will perform any task you set before us.”
Now Dragon looked greatly amused, as we must now do his bidding, no matter what the request might be. We were at his mercy to take our capabilities into consideration before asking his favor. Pleased, the Dragon pulled a large chunk of flesh from himself without sign of discomfort, and handed it to me. With our prize, we returned to the village as night descended. Eli, Arthos, Kathryn, and I traveled immediately to the Guildhall and began the ritual. Everything seemed to go well, and on the morrow we would have Mythral.
Sometime later that night, Donovan pounded at our door, declaring the town to be under attack. Those in the Hall raced out the door and down the hill, but the fighting was over. Apparently an unnatural fog had rolled into town, and from it sprang many monstrosities. A band of orcs, newly arrived in town, managed to fend them off.
But as we tended the wounded and gathered details on what had happened, more things approached from the darkness. Undead.
Against these perversions of the Great Circle, I charged my mace with Life energies, and hurled bolts of essence – banishing skeletons and zombies from existence. The warriors around me swarmed amongst the evil – shattering them with their weapons. But the more we destroyed, the more came at us. Eventually we had to retreat within the walls of the Inn.
This was clearly more then a wandering group that had stumbled upon Haven. This was a concentrated assault. Someone had to be behind it. The Vampire? Whatever it was, it had to be stopped. We sprang from the Inn and crashed against the waves of the Undead hoards with the intention of breaking through. With effort, several of us succeeded, and I found standing before me a being in black robes – pulling skeletons up from the very earth.
Throughout the history of the Order of Life, no member had ever fought directly against a Necromancer – save for Master Gonard who fought in the Essence Wars before founding our Order. Yet here was one now, standing perhaps fifteen yards from me. I immediately tried banishing the abomination from this land. The golden energies did nothing – the man I faced, bringing forth undeath, was alive!
For a moment I hesitated. The mandates of the Order prevent me from ever harming another living thing. Yet the same mandates also have no tolerance for Undeath. As I watched the Necromancer summon forth more zombies, I knew what I had to do. I charged.
The Necromancer had been using his foul magics to bind to the ground any adventurer getting too close to him. Now he focused those energies against me. But those of the Order are meant to endure against his ilk, and I easily turned aside his spells. With righteous fury I pummeled the Necromancer with my Essence empowered mace. I must have rained ten, even fifteen blows against him before my last actually passed THROUGH him, and the Dark Mage teleported away. He appeared again briefly, said “Thanks for playing!”, and was gone before anyone could act. The attack of the Undead was over.
And I had harmed a living creature.
I returned to the GuildHall in a daze, lost in contemplation of what had happened. The Necromancer had to be stopped. I did what I had to do. At least I did not kill him. But that fact brought little comfort, for while on the battlefield, slaying the Necromancer had been my most definite intention.
My musings were interrupted by the sound of combat just outside the Hall. I ran outside, to see an enraged Roland attacking everyone around him. Kale lay bleeding on the ground, while Don Mayo and Nuek fought for their lives. I called for help and went immediately to Kale’s aid. Barely in time, I saved his life and brought him quickly to consciousness with potions. With Roland still apparently consumed by madness, I told the wounded Kale to flee. He did so, while I quickly checked Roland for signs of poison or disease. I found nothing. Was someone controlling his mind? No.
Aluse had been murdered the previous night, and Roland had discovered Kale and Don Mayo were responsible. Nuek had merely been caught in the crossfire, as confused by Rolands actions as I was. For aiding Kale, and enabling his escape, Roland attacked me. Fortunately townsmen were able to pull him away before he could cause more than superficial wounds.
Don Mayo, however, was captured. During interrogation, he revealed his true name was Dimack, while Kale was actually Pentaguishine. I remember their names from my studies at the Temple, but not the details of their lives. However, other learned beings pale and the mention of their names.
The torture going on in the next room made me uncomfortable, so I left the Hall and made my way down to the village. On the way, I encountered Roland. He asked me why I heal his enemies. Not happy with the answer that I support and nurture all life, he put a question to me.
“What would you do if you saw me helping the Undead? Healing them and bringing them back to this world?”
Only a Necromancer could do that. I thought back to the battle, and what had transpired.
“I would have to attack you.”
Wrong answer. Even in my dazed and exhausted state, I knew it was not right, but did not currently know what the answer truly was.
Roland nodded. “Should you ever again attempt to heal someone I have just defeated, I will kill you.”
A fair statement, given my own reply. Death is a necessary part of the Great Circle, and, as such, I do not fear it. Should Roland’s convictions force him to kill me, I will not begrudge him.
As for living Necromancers, I now know what must be done. I do not need to kill them, but I must fight them. Should I emerge victorious, I can still prevent their death – stabilize them, but not heal them completely. An unconscious Necromancer can be turned over to others for judgement. Should he be sentenced to death, so be it – I will not take part in the execution.
But until my inevitable death, I have much to consider. There is still a Vampire and a Necromancer in the area. I have encountered both for a single duel. Against the Vampire, I lost, but am now better prepared. Against the Necromancer, I won, but do not yet know how to defeat him utterly.
Then there is the matter of the Citadel of Life. I must find it out if it still exists. If not, I must construct a new temple. But that is a future road to travel.
