My Penance of Duty

[The Almight Red]

*Sitting in a sparsely populated tavern, the Half-Pint, a man who looks to be in his early thirties pulls out a small book to place on the table before him. Following such, he'd bring out his writing utensil and begin his scribing.*

It has been some days after I arrived in these lands, from my homeland of Cormyr. While I did not come here with thoughts of ease or a lack of trials, I also did not expect it to be perhaps as dire as it already appears. I sound melancholy in such an expression, but it is sometimes difficult to elude that sentiment when faced with trials. But the True shall keep me, for His strength becomes my own.

I shall attempt to record the majority of the passings in this journal, so that if I fall and it is found, it shall hopefully make it's way to those who follow Torm, and they might know the circumstances that surround this area that I have so far uncovered. To both positive and deterimental revelations.

On my way over upon the naval vessel I traveled I had the fortune of meeting a halfling named Violet Figgleleaf. She appears to be a skittish individual, outwardly frighted at any possible example or possibility of danger. She also has a propensity of shying away from any attention given to her, and going to lengths of self-depracation, which is unfortunate. For, despite her outwardly fear, she has proven herself most helpful in a great multitude of things thus far, including her talents in the arcane arts. Suffice to say, on the trip by water, her company was most welcome when she was not relieving her sickness over the side of the boat.

Once arriving at the port, we decided it'd be best if we kept to eachother's company, as strangers in a strange land are better in twos than ones. It was not long after speaking with the customs official that we were approached by one of the stout folk. A man by the name of Ironbreaker. I fear I am unable to recall his first name. Regardless, despite his eyepatch and somewhat grizzled appearance, he proved to be most amiable and helpful to both myself and Miss Figgleleaf.

He showed us around to several locations in the near areas, lastly bringing us to the Exigo Trading Post, and introducing Miss Figgleleaf to an elf who sells scrolls, and myself to one of his own kin that sells that sorts of items that those of my order are adept in their use. As to the elf, it is unfortunate that he has a rather unpleasant demeanor. His ornery and overbearing attitude put Miss Figgleleaf on edge more than once, considering the elf's propensity to yell and become increasingly impatient over time, even when selling his wares.

He is a peculiar sort. But, perhaps times have been overly harsh to him.

While in the area, we had the oppurtunity to meet several other individuals, such as a man who wished to begin a gem crafting business in the area, who had also only recently arrived. As well, Miss Figgleleaf had the oppurtunity to meet one of her own kin, but I know not what they spoke about, as it was discourse in their native language.

It was then that Miss Figgleleaf mentioned her needing coin. Apparently rats, aboard the ship, had consumed a vast amount of her arcane parchments, and she wished to replace them. We were considering such when we met another individual of arcane talent that also expressed that he was in need of coin (stag, he called it, which is now becoming more common in my vernacular). He suggested we make our way to the hills, to the Exigo Outpost, so we might help quell goblins.

He was also in need of some shrubbery. To make a longish story short, we were able to help the man gather his herbs while we then traded in the ears (grissly work, I confess, and not all that appealing for proof) of the goblins to the Sergeant in exchange for some coin.

Unfortunately, I had not escaped the battles unscathed, and we made our way back to the Exigo Trading Post, heading to the indoor building. It was there that I purchased some bandages and medicinal remedies for my injuries. Tending to my wounds, I spoke with Miss Figgleleaf, and eventually went to gather us some dinner. When I returned, one of the Exigo guards approached me, asking if I was one of the Triumverate. I have often heard this interchanged with the word Triad, for the Lords Torm, Tyr, and Ilmater. So, I confirmed her suspicions to such.

She explained that there were undead threatening in the area. She was, honestly, a bit forceful in her words, but I find I can not blame her for such, as the threat of undead is never something easy to abide. Eventually I made my way outside, to the outskirts of the Trading Post. It appeared others were beginning to gather around, curious as to what the issue was.

Finally, there was an assault by undead, which I find somewhat queer, it being broad daylight. It was two waves of them, a mixture of undead skeletons, undead with flesh still on their bones, and some ghoulish type creature that exhumed a putrid smell.

They were, fortunately, driven back. However, unfortunately, two men of the Exigo, guards, fell in the process. I mourn the loss of their life, but it is well to know their lives were given for a just cause. I fear I had little to give to the Exigo in compensation for their loss, as I rarely carry much coin on my person, but if this journal should ever be found after I should fall, I would ask the Church of Torm to look to the two families of those fallen.

I know not their name, but if those of the Loyal Fury were to ask those of Exigo about it, I'm sure they could find out. I fear that a family without one figurehead might struggle desperately, and I would hope the Church would look after them.

With the immediate threat demolished, Miss Figgleleaf and I made our way to an area called the Crossroads by the locals. It is where many presumed the undead presence originated from. Miss Figgleleaf used an arcane spell to help discern the direction the undead traveled earlier in the day, which lead us to a farmstead. Speaking with the local farmer for a bit, it was clear he had little knowledge of what had happened earlier. But when approaching the farm earlier, I noticed a man sitting in front of the privy nearby. I asked the local farmer about such, and he expressed shock at someone else being around.

The sitting man proved unresponsive to the farmer's demands for identification. Asking the farmer if I might handle this, he acquiesced, heading inside his abode to keep himself and his family safe.

Speaking to the sitting man proved to be an exercise in futility. He was clearly crazed. His words rarely made sense, and his disposition changed as if it was mercurial. He began to speak of "She," and that he wished her to see him perform his actions, and it appeared that he was inferring he wished to be accepted by this woman. Asking who she was proved fruitless.

Ah, forgive me, I failed to mention that just before approaching the farm, we were met by a man in black attire, with a giant shield and a curved sword. He had been at the defense of the Trade Post, and wished to come with us in our investigation of the undead at the Crossroads.

Back to the crazed wizard, for that is what I assumed he was, he began to emit a strange green glow from his person. Following such, undead began to appear, in mass numbers, at the man's beckon. I have never seen so many abominations raised so quickly at once by another man.

Fortunately, we were able to fight back the undead. While I demanded he stop, for I did not wish to have to slay the man, he would not listen, and simply summoned more. Once we finished with those, I had to take it upon myself to slay the man, I fear. If the battle continued any longer, I fear the other two with me could have been put in danger.

After the man was killed, he yet remained to give off that green glow. It was then that we noticed there was a gem that looked to be imbedded in his forehead. The gem being of green color, it was something I did not trust to touch. Instead, I moved to pat the man down, looking for perhaps a journal or anything that might give us a clue to what had happened.

Unfortunately, immediately as I touched the man, a green bolt of power sprung from the body and threw me back, greatly injuring my person. It was shortly after this that a strange woman appeared from the treeline. At first, she entirely ignored us. Her attention was entirely focused on the wizard, as she plucked out the stone in the corpse's forhead. As I demanded to know what the nature of all this was, she finally turned her attention to us.

She revealed practically nothing to us, unfortunately. All she did do was first try to tempt me with her gem, with the promise of power, and asking if I would serve better than the wizard did. I refused, wanting nothing to do with it. Unfortunately, it seemed our companion in black was not of the same mind. He seemed captivated by the tiny object. As she then tempted that man too, he reached out for it. I immediately moved to pull the man back, crying out that he should not fall victim to such bewitching. Fortunately, the mysterious woman snapped the gem back, admonishing him for trying to take what was not yet given.

Despite my not trusting that mysterious woman, I find that action beneficial. I doubt I could have held the other man back, if it came to such. My injuries from both the battle with the undead and that green blast of power had left me in a weakened state.

It was then that the odd woman left, disappearing back into the treeline. Only moments later, our companion in black attire announced his leaving, and meandered off. As I watched him leave, I looked about the area, still on edge from the evenings events. As I did such, I noticed a man hiding himself behind a wheel barrow near some crop. I did not announce my seeing him, but it would not have mattered. He actually willingly revealed himself some moments later.

[The Almight Red]

He had apparently witnessed everything, from the attack at the Trade Post, all the way up to that point. I like to not think ill of others or be suspicious, but I have a difficult time not being cautious of a man who does such, skulky from the shadows.

We talked a bit, but nothing of much consequence. He offered no information, and I had none to offer him that he had not already seen. So, it is somewhat peculiar that he revealed himself at all. Perhaps an act of good will? Or perhaps that's merely what he wishes us to believe. Already this land has put my mind on edge.

Throwing a few sticks at the body, in hopes to learn if it was still dangerous to the touch, no reaction was found. So, I once more looked over the body, finding a pendant around his neck. I had the oppurtunity to get a good look at it, but as I touched the object, it immediately turned to dust.

I am almost positive it is a religious symbol of some sort, but I can not recall if I might have seen it directly before, or not. I must find another more learnt in religious lore.

*He makes a drawing of the symbol in the journal, to the best of his ability.*

Taking up the body, we returned to the Trading Post. I informed the Exigo there of what had transpired. They then gave me a missive to deliver to their headquarters in the city to the north. It was then that Miss Figgleleaf expressed her exhaustion, and so I asked that she might rest as I fulfilled this last task.

As I did not know the way to the city, I was forced to ask an individual at the Trading Post if they could show me the way. A cordial elven woman, named Miss Arawen, was quite kind in doing just that. When we arrived in the city, she also offered to show me to the headquarters of the Exigo.

She proved a most assisting woman, and quite genial.

Meeting the Captain at the headquarters, I expressed what had transpired, and he asked that I deliver the corpse to the temple of Helm. He gifted me with two items of the Exigo, despite my trying to express that no reward was necessary. He insisted, and expressed it was a sign of disrespect if I did not. I did not wish to seem ingracious, so I accepted them.

One of them has proven highly useful, a large greatsword. It is fortunate, as it is the weapon of my Lord, the True. The other was a ring, which I delivered to Miss Figgleleaf, the next I saw her. I thought it only proper, as she was extraordinarily helpful in the events, despite her always declaring otherwise. She is a humble little halfling.

The last work of that day was delivering the body to the temple of Helm, the priest assuring me that the corpse would be taken in due care.

I believe this is where I should end, for this entry. My mind grows a bit weary at recalling all of such, and this was merely the first day of my travels here. I shall expand upon the other events that have transpired at a later point, when I find the time.

May Torm watch over me and give me the ability to provide care for the people of these lands. May the Loyal Fury give me strength to protect the weak. May the True keep me a righteous vessel for his works.

*The man closes his book, sliding it away into a satchel he carries with him. Looking about the tavern once more, he gives a small nod to himself, standing himself up from his seat as to depart the vicinity.*

[The Almight Red]

*A sandy blonde haired man sets himself down upon a stool, located in a less than lavish tavern called the Prancing Patron. Performing the custom of pulling out a small book as well as a writing utensil, he places both on the table in front of himself. Following such, he inclines his head forwards, then allowing both hands to move to his neck, pulling an item from around his neck. The object that dangled from the chain was now firmly in one hand of his, as the man's eyes stared at it for a prolonged stretch of time, as if the longer he gazed at it the more probable it might give him the answers he sought.

A couple minutes later, he finally places the symbol of Torm down beside the book while his other hand picks of the piece of charcoal, preparing himself for his writing.*

My recollection of events must continue to be from days past, as I attempt to catch up to the point I am now at. I see no reason to not take up where I left up with my last entry.

The day after meeting with the Captain of the Exigo at their Headquarters, I found myself checking with the City Barracks, speaking to the... I fear I recall his title. But he was a man of some rank, I surmise, as he had the authority to give duties to one such as I. He asked that I help deal with an infestation of both large bats and lizardkin in the city's sewers. While the bats were hardly a problem, the lizardkin were far more cunning, and proved quite dangerous at a few points as they tried to swarm me with sheer numbers.

Regardless, the Loyal Fury helped me prevail in the end. I returned to the man at the City Barracks, him then offering me a job to take care of a new Chieftan of the lizardkin, that he said I could find further within the sewers. He suggested that I find a larger group to deal with such, and I took his advice to heart, considering that I had such trouble with just the normal warriors of this lizardkin tribe.

It was later that day that I went to the Port to await any new ships that might arrive with passengers. It proved beneficial, as the priestess Evangeline Nightingale arrived a few hours after my waiting. I have been charged some time now, by the temple of Torm, to watch over her and carry out my duties under her guidance. I confess, it was a great relief to see her arrive, as I felt there could be more focus and purpose surrounding my actions, as she might help guide what our duties might be.

It appears this might not be so. She was exhausted from her journey, and as such, we had little time to speak before she left for a tavern to rest. Since that time, I have yet to see her again. I trust the True in his blessings and guidance, but the fact that Miss Nightingale seems to have vanished so soon after arriving fills me with both confusion and slight dread. I fear it is my weakness that I can't abolish such from my heart and mind.

I can only hope and pray that nothing tragic has fallen Miss Nightingale, as I believe I would be responsible, then. If I do not see her in the next couple days, I fear I must write a letter to the temple in Suzail, explaining the mysterious passings. I will accept whatever judgement that befalls me for these events, if they prove disastrous.

After meeting with Miss Nightingale, the rest of that particular day proved uneventful. I took some time to look more around my surroundings and took a few menial jobs from a woman found at the Exigo Trading Post. She had me deliver some clothing articles to two brothers that resided to a fort that was out west. While uneventful, it was thankful work, as my coin was low at that point. Following such, I made my way back to the Port, doing odd jobs for individuals in that area. It felt to be doing something instead of merely sitting about with no real purpose.

I admit, it is nothing to sing praises of, what with my calling to be a righteous and holy warrior. But it still was work that might help other individuals, so I feel as if Torm would condone and bless such circumstances.

Considering all the travel I had done for various individuals, delivering goods and messages, I felt it was time to retire for the day, taking my rest in one of the taverns of the City.

The next morning I awoke early, and finding myself wide awake, I made my way out to the Exigo Trade Post once again. I have found a slightly odd pull to the place. Perhaps it is because it is somewhat populated without being overly dense like most cities. Regardless, when I entered into the indoor Lodge area, I had the oppurtunity to meet a woman named Miss Ariel. She told me a fascinating story involving her attempting to rid a place of bandits, at the behest of some Helmites, and the adventure that followed such.

She ended up requesting the help of another woman, who's name I can not recall, unfortunately. Unfortunately, during Miss Ariel's attempt to subdue the bandits, she and her party were the ones captured instead. When tied up, however, the other woman (who's name I can't recall) apparently convinced the bandits that she was a pirate of some sort, with her own ship. The bandits, oddly enough, acquiesced to the concept of them becoming this woman's shipmates. Later that day, I had even seen a woman dressed in the attire familiar to some ship bound individuals, followed by two men. I am curious if that might have been her. Regardless, Miss Ariel told me that, in the end, she remained unharmed and was free to go.

As she appears to be a worshipper of Selune, and a kind hearted individual, I was glad to hear and see such. We had an enlightening discussion on the concept of order, as well as charity unto your fellow man and woman. She seems a bit cautious of committing to noble goal, but her heart is in the right place, and I believe she merely needs a nudge in the right direction. She is one of the few people that I have met, thus far, that seems to want to genuiningly help others, whether she is willing to publicly admit such or not.

Following her story, she asked if I had anything interesting to relate, myself. I explained the situation with the undead, the maddened wizard, and the mysterious woman that I previously wrote about. What was most interesting is that Miss Ariel knew exactly who the man in black attire was. The man who was tempted by the green gem the mysterious woman offered. His name is apparently Samin, and an acquaintence of Miss Ariel. She expressed that he apparently has a propensity of getting into trouble. I left it at that, for the moment.

After speaking about our nations of origin for a short period of time, Miss Ariel expressed that she needed to be off to business. It was shortly after this that I ran into Miss Figgleleaf once again, which is always a welcome pleasure. After speaking about the stormy weather of the area for a bit, I decided that we should head the City Barracks, so that perhaps the man could offer a similar job to Miss Figgleleaf. He was entirely ammenable to such. While Miss Figgleleaf got the details from the man, I had the time to peruse a poster that gave a list of the Enemies of the State of the city. I took the time to copy the document down on a piece of parchment for future reference.

Following such, Miss Figgleleaf and I made our way into the sewers. However, it was not long after this that we came across a fallen woman, with a rodent of unusual size nearby. We immediately slayed the beast, then looking over the woman. She was, unfortunately, already held by the clutches of death. As it appeared recent, we immediately made our way out of the sewers with the body, heading to the temple of Helm.

Unfortunately, but understandably, the priest required that we pay eight hundred coin to perform the service of raising the anonymous woman. I was unable to afford such, having little over half. Miss Figgleleaf eventually consented to offering the stag after I vowed to pay her back as soon as was possible.

As the priest performed the power of raising her (which is always a sight to behold with wonder and awe), the woman opened her eyes and was coherent once more, pulled from death's clutches. I often reflect on how Kelemvor looks at such things. Death is natural and not to be feared, as Kelemvor and his church teaches, but tragic and early deaths of such a nature appear to be contrary to the natural. Perhaps that is how Kelemvor feels as well. I should perhaps speak at greater length about it with those of the Kelemvor faith.

Anyway, the woman once again was raised. We spoke a bit, explaining the circumstances she was in. Eventually we made our way to a Priest at the temple of the Triumverate, so as to purchase an elixir that might cure the woman's weakened state as well. It was about at this point that Miss Figgleleaf seemed somewhat agitated about the stag spent to raise the woman. I do enjoy Miss Figgleleaf's company dearly, and she is a kind individual, truly. But I fear that her mind guides too much to material wealth, sometimes, in the grand scheme of things.

I certainly believe that the life another, and helping them, should be of more importance that merely wishing to keep your own pockets overflowing. But I digress.

[The Almight Red]

Suffice to say, the woman promised to pay Miss Figgleleaf back, and then promised it to myself, despite my wishing to express it was not necessary. While still at the temple, one of the priests of Ilmater approached me to ask if I might assist them in a matter that had come to their attention. In the hills was a tomb that was being desecrated by Banites and undead, and they wished if I might look into it, and if confirmed true, that I might put down such an atrocity to all that was holy. There was no hesitation in my acceptance of such. Bane is a vile blight on all that is good and righteous. Torm vanquished over him once already, and the Loyal Fury would grant the strength to his followers to continue such works through the Realms.

Shortly following such, we made our way back to the sewers, as we decided that three individuals should be able to handle such more capably than just two.

Before descending into the sewers, we met another man of... peculiar personality. He introduced himself as Pericles the Human Adventurer. His mannerism were exceedingly exaggerated and even a bit odd, now and then. He continually expressed that death only awaited us in the sewers, which did not do well with Miss Figgleleaf's caution of such things. However, eventually the man offered us some protective elixirs, and we accepted. He did not seem to intend any poor results from his words, but I do not think he understood that he sowed more problems than helped, given the circumstances and personality of Miss Figgleleaf.

The bats were, once again, incredibly simple to deal with.

However, we ran into a problem with the lizardkin. Everything seemed fine until a large beast of a lizardman made his appearance, his ferocity unexpected for myself. We had to make a hasty retreat, as I was unable to stand toe to toe with him, I am saddened to report.

Once outside, the woman that was previously raised from death decided she would take her leave. I found this understandable, given the circumstances. We bid her goodbye, and I have not seen her since. I am not concerned about the coin, however, and I merely wish her the best, and pray that Torm watches over her. To appease Miss Figgleleaf, I have since repaid her the coin that the other woman promised. I believe it for the best.

We decided to take our leave of the sewers for that moment, and rest in the city for a bit. It was later that evening I came across another woman, one who actually reminded me somewhat of Pericles in some respects. Not in relation to the rash words used, but in the excitable personality. She was very kind, but she had a tendency to yell things and act exaggerated. Unfortunately, it frightened Miss Figgleleaf a few times, but nothing lasting.

All three of us decided to make our way into the sewers once again. We ran into the large lizard once again, and the battle was exceedingly close, but I fear we had to retreat yet again. It was then that we changed out strategy, deciding that we would guide the large Chieftan to the first room on the North end of the sewers, where no other lizards might creep up on us or ambush. It proved entirely successful. With the lizard chieftan's death, we finally were able to make our way to the light of day.

I feel as if I never wish to see sewers again, as long as I should live. It is somewhat amusing, the thought of praying to be kept from the vicinity of water treatment systems from this point forward. I wonder how Torm would look upon such a request.

Following the news of our success to the man at the City Barracks, he gave me a letter to deliver to another individual out at the Gates of the SUnderer. I had never been before, but fortunately the man was kind enough to give me directions to such. When I arrived at the Gates, it proved to be an impressive site. On the way to the station for the guards in the area, I was approached by a man that wished to see the letter I was delivering. His attitude was entirely suspicious, and he tried to tempt me with coin. I only hope that I have the oppurtunity to report such a man to the guard, soon.

Most unfortunate, however, was that I was unable to find the man I was to deliver the letter to, and I did not want to risk giving it to someone who was not of the proper station, expecially when there are so clearly others seeking such information for their own ends. It was around this time that I spoke with a man named Rodrick, and he told me of the event of some Bandits stealing some items of his. I accepted the task to help him recover them. Unfortunately, I found that they proved difficult to break from their fortifications on this slope leading up into their defensible position. I noted their position, and decided I would later come back with others.

It was at this time that I decided I needed rest, as exhaustion began to set in. I made my way back to the Gates, moving to the guardhouse, requesting that they might grant me some respite. They were quite kind and ammenable to such.

It is here that I shall halt my recollection, as there is only today's events to still relate. I shall scribe them down the next I find myself in a place that might accomodate such.

Lastly, I truly hope Miss Evangeline is fine. I suppose I must consider the possibility that she will not be seen for a time. Perhaps she was called back to Cormyr without my knowledge, even. While that is preferable to her being harmed, it still fills me with some melancholy, and a feeling of loss. Perhaps it is a trial from Torm, that I must not view others as a crutch to my own duties. Perhaps He is looking to test my resolve, to make me more focused and more capable of knowing what actions to perform in His name without direct guidance.

Perhaps He is turning me into a more beneficial tool for His works. I suppose only time will tell.

I hope for Your guidance, Torm. May you grant me the wisdom that is necessary in the carrying out of the Penance of Duty. May my words be kind, yet firm. May my actions be righteous, but merciful. May my life honor You.

*When finished with his writing he proceeds to place both the book and charcoal back into the satchel that he carries with him, as well as sliding the holy symbol and chain back over his head to hang about his neck. Finally standing from the stool, he makes his way out the door of the tavern.*

[The Almight Red]

*Entering the interior of the Exigo Trading House, Baragorn gives a slow perusal of the surroundings, taking in what are familiar sites to him at this point. Nodding politely to those that acknowledge his presence, he makes his way to a stool that is midway between the Wizard of Thay and Elissa Ganvar. Taking out his journal and charcoal, he does not hesitate to begin his writing.*

Each day I spend here is both a blessing and a trial, it seems. There are sorts that bring pleasure, and sorts that bring sorrow. Both successes and failures. Let me start from the morning following my last journal entry.

Waking from my rest, I made my way from the city out to the Trading Post of the Exigo, as I continually feel more and more at ease among the bustle of that community. As I arrived, I noticed a group of individuals at the firepit, so I made my way towards such. Many people conversed amongst themselves, and so I did not interrupt.

But, it was not long before a topic came up that was of great concern. A man with red glowing eyes (it is certainly an exceedingly suspicious thing) began to speak to a halfling about an event that transpired at the Gates of the Sunderer. That heralds of Myrkul spoke of him still being alive, and that he was returning. And not only this, but two holy warriors of Kelemvor were brutally slaughtered.

I asked them if they knew what happened to these two men, but neither knew. And following such, the halfling became rather aggressive in his speech, demanding to know why I would even care about Kelemvor. I kept my patience through our conversation, but suffice to say, he appears to be anything but a genial individual. Furthermore, I am almost positive he is an outlaw named Logan, according to a description from the Enemies of State I mentioned in my last entry.

A bit later, Samin arrived, he also showing some curiosity into the event concerning these priests of Myrkul (or so I assume they were priests). Little more was discovered on the topic other than there is now an apparent bounty on all paladins of Kelemvor, which is a mournful thing. Greed is all too often a contributing factor to the misdeeds of others, and I believe this shall only help promote such.

Not long after this, Miss Figgleleaf arrived, coming to stand near me. It was then that this uncouth male halfling began to pester her for some time, saying all sorts of crude and improper things. Finally, after Miss Figgleleaf made it clear she wished to depart with haste, I announced that we should be taking our leave. Before leaving, however, Samin requested that he speak with me. I offered that he walk with us to the city, and he accepted.

Along the way, he immediately expressed that he was a changed man and that I should not worry about the event nights past with the mysterious woman and the gem. This immediately made me suspicious, that he would so suddenly attempt to assuage whatever worries I might have concerning such. But, I listened.

He spoke of how he had a dream, a vision, of a god that spoke to him. He claimed it being Kelemvor, and it was a dream in a hall of bones. And that now he has devoted his life to the cause of Kelemvor.

It is difficult to know exactly which portions of his words were the lies, but lies they were. It was, honestly, all too obvious his words were laced with deceit, and it depresses me that this man would so clearly attempt to betray my trust. I felt compelled to ask my lord, Torm, for guidance to discern this man's being. And so the True gave me his sight, allowing me to see to the nature of this man, and it proved not to my satisfaction.

The man emits an evil aura about himself. I was frank with the man, telling him these very things. That I could tell he lies to my person. That Torm has granted me the sight to see his evil nature and lies. And still he professed his innocence.

I made it clear that our paths could not be along the same road as long as he so clearly wished to deceive myself and others along with me, as Miss Figgleleaf was traveling with us and privy to the entire conversation. I only hope this Samin understands the error of his ways. I truly do not believe he is unreachable, and that he can perhaps be brought back from his dark path.

I ask the righteous gods help turn his heart and show him that righteousness and holiness are far preferred to greed and selfishness. If he truly were to have a change of heart, I believe he could do good things, and even come to find that he might enjoy life in a sanctified manner.

After departing ways with the man, Miss Figgleleaf and I made our way through the city for a bit, performing to a few mundane tasks, before then heading to the Valley Road. I had explained to Miss Figgleleaf about the wizard who had lost his wares to bandits, and she agreed to help. So, with the help of Miss Figgleleaf, we were able to vanquish them, and recover the man's effects. Unfortunately, it was only half of his lost valuables, and we were incapable of finding more bandits, so we left for the time, promising the wizard to keep an eye out for more of them. We promised to return and look later, when perhaps the bandits might return from where ever they currently were.

We decided that we would make our way into the goblin caves up in the hills, as the chieftan was still left alive. It was then that we met a man with a giant boar. I fear I can not recall his name, however. But, he proved quite amiable and kind, and when he asked to come with us, I accepted. Unfortunately, Miss Figgleleaf was frightened by the large boar, and I was eventually able to convince the man to allow the Boar to stay in the wilds behind us while we set to work.

We made our way through the hilldside into the caverns, and all was going well. But then we came across a dwarf. I fear I can not remember his full name, but his first name started with a P, and I believe he was of the Pebblecrusher clan. Either that, or it was his surname. I fear my ignorance of dwarven culture is quite vast.

This dwarf proved a powerful individual, helping us make our way through the caverns quite easily. He also seemed to possess great skill at mining. Accompanying us down into the lower levels, we came across a secreted passageway, leading into a room full of foul undead as well as a man that seemed to control him. It quickly became clear that the room they dwelled in was the catacombs the Ilmatri had mentioned, and this was the Banite and his abominations.

We dispatched them quickly, even the dwarf showing great distaste in this individual and his choice of minions. The grisly site in the tomb was sickening, to say the least. Pools of what I can only assume is blood, along with all manner of grisly effects that the man might have used for only dubious means, I imagine.

From there, we continued through the caverns, eventually coming across many goblins and their Chieftans, but also two men accompanying them. The battle was swift, and thanks to the help of the dwarf, we were vitorious. Looking over the bodies, I noticed the two humans both carried symbols of Bane on their person. This fills my heart with both anger and dread. Goblins working with Banites? I can only guess at the purposes the Banites have in such a place and with such an alleigance. Perhaps they wish to control the mining operation in those caves. I know not.

From there, we made our way back to the Valley Road, searching for the nefarious bandits. It proved fruitful, as they were quickly discovered in the same spot their comrades fell in. I suppose they were not entirely cautious. Whatever the case, they were quickly dispatched, and we were successful in recovering the wizards possessions. We returned to hand them over and in the process, we met a man that proved quite amiable. It would not be until later that I learned his name to be Vigo, but he was rather polite and cordial, which is more than to say for many I have met thus far.

Returning back to the city, following our travels, Miss Figgleleaf's exhaustion began to become apparent, and so she took her leave for the time. As she went to sleep, I made my way back to the Trading Post. It is becoming rather obvious that there is some pull to my mind to bring my person continually back to that place.

A gentle rain began to fall, so I made my refuge underneath a pavilion, when only shortly after arrived Miss Ariel and a dwarf I had not previously met. The dwarf proved absolutely cordial and kind. I am quickly finding that most dwarves in this area are some of the best folk, often being honorable, even overly understanding of other people, which is often against the rumours one hears about them.

The dwarf's name turned out to be Glyir, and I had the oppurtunity to discuss the usual topics of new acquaintence. Where he was from, what he was doing here, what sort of occupations he entailed from. But the majority of the conversation was between Miss Ariel and myself, as it touched upon her current events as well.

Apparently she and another companion went to the forests west of here, hunting a Gnoll leader due to a job offered to them by an outpost in that vicinity. As they made their way through the wilds, they came across a band of gnolls that surrounded two halflings fallen upon the ground. As Miss Ariel knew that just the two of them could not handle the vast group of gnolls, they made their way back to more civilized land, looking for help.

Miss Ariel expressed her desire to help the halflings, that she could not bear to see them suffer. Once again, I am humbled by this woman who so desperately wishes to help others, despite her struggles with the issues of order and morality.

[The Almight Red]

They were, apparently, able to find at least one other person to accompany them back to the forest, but it was too late. The halflings were gone, and during their search, they ended up surrounded by a great multitude of creatures that ferociously attacked them. It was apparently only through the powers of Helmites that they were brought back from death.

It was in this, she expressed to me, that she found confusion and frustration. She asked if I thought it was all worth it, the desire to do what was right and good, when so much wrong resulted of it so often.

I did my best to assuage her worries and grief over the events. That I believe when you are able to help just one individual, despite all your other failures, that it becomes entirely worth it. To see one person saved, helped, given hope, that in such things, there is purpose. That it gives worth to your own life, and it makes your own soul glow. But I doubt I need to preach to my journal.

Mister Glyir had already left by this point, and Miss Ariel and I found ourselves alone at the fire pit. This is when I began to discuss Samin with her, recollecting the events that had happened earlier that day. It was... a sorrowful event, truth be told. That I must speak ill of a friend of hers, but I feel it was necessary, to at least warn her of a man that might be trying to use her for his own ends.

But, it appeared she was already beginning to suspect such about him. She expressed that he had seemingly begun to come under a sort of transformation, less concerned about the company he shared and the enjoyment in such, and more about gaining wealth and power. His mood was darkening. But to what purpose? Neither of us know.

I have my suspicions. And a Hall of Bones is among them.

We finally recognized that we both saw that what was happening to him was no good, but that he was not necessarily lost. Beyond such, little else could be said. It was about this time that another woman approached the firepit and began to speak with us. Miss Elanandra was her name, and she proved quite kind and amiable. We spoke to her briefly, and even learnt she hailed from Waterdeep, the City of Splendors.

It was not long after she arrived that two other individuals did. A woman who claimed the name Jem and a man that claimed the name Stephen. They both stopped by the wagon, as Stephen said he had some business to attend to, leaving Jem to sit by the wagon. We talked briefly with the woman, about inconsequential things. Eventually Stephen returned, and it came to light that they were both to be married. It was about this point that I noticed the woman's hair was not quite right, as if it bulged a bit in certain places.

I thought it might prove somewhat embarassing for her, so I made my way over to her, and discreetly spoke. At such a close distance, it became clear the hair was actually a wig, but I didn't think this exactly suspicious. It's hardly something to look askance at, as many might be forced to wear one for a multitude of reasons. I informed her of her hair not looking quite right, and she quickly fixed it, thanking me.

It was then that they announced that they should be departing, and Miss Elanandra asking if we were invited to their marriage. Miss Jem said something to the effect of that they would be deciding who was invited to the celebration soon and that it should go off with a 'bang.'

Her words seemed a bit peculiar, but I honestly still thought nothing of it. As Miss Ariel and I returned to discussion, Miss Elanandra made her way to the garbage barrel, looking inside such. Pulling out a bag, my attention turned to such. Before I could even ask what she was doing, the satchel exploded in her hands, sending shrapnel everywhere around us.

Fortunately, Miss Elanandra was still alive, but gravely wounded. I asked for Torm's power to heal the worst of her wounds, before then using my minor skills in medicine to wrap the rest of her wounds. I fear it wasn't the best job, but it proved adequate to keep her from fatal injuries.

It was then that several more explosions were heard around the Trading Post, going off all around us. It was only then that the guard finally seemed to respond, as I made my way around, tending to those I could. I do not know if any met Kelemvor that day, but it was a tragic event, regardless.

As I was tending to a woman near a pavilion, guards began to clutter around, along with Miss Elanandra, Miss Ariel, and a man I had never previously met. I would learn later that his name is Talon. The captain of the guard (or so I assume, as I know not their ranks of the Exigo) asked what had happened, and Talon immediately fingered Miss Elanandra as a suspect, which proved to have more frustrating consequences than anything.

All the man did was continually yell, scream, and attempt to glare at people. If not for the tragic event, one might have thought him a comical fellow, trying so hard to throw his weight around. I have met few people trying so hard to do something, but being so ineffectual at it. It was around this point that Miss Elanandra began to become flustered, and then demanding to be taken inside before answering any of the Captain's questions, which just exacerbated the situation.

It was around this point that another man began to speak with Miss Ariel. I would later learn his name was Vale.

As trying to quell Miss Elanandra's stubborness to be brought inside proved no point, and Talon just continued his idiotic screaming, I finally just began to recall the events that had transpired with the two individuals of earlier, Jem and Stephen.

This, fortunately, brought some order to the chaos, as the Captain began noting down the details. Weathering some more yelling from the Talon fellow, Miss Elanandra finally revealed what the bag looked like. It was about now that Talon did have a genuiningly good idea and suggested sending riders on the road north (the way the two suspects had departed) to hopefully catch them before the went to far. The Captain agreed.

After some more bickering, and general inefficient talk, a rider returned, carrying with him some effects that looked to be of the terrorists, including a red wig. It was now that the Captain offered the job of us going off to find these two individuals.

I lent my assistance to such a cause, as I thought it only proper that we bring these two to justice, as they so clearly meant harm on innocents, whatever their motives might be. Miss Ariel accepted, as did Miss Elanandra, Mister Vale, and this Talon fellow. The Captain asked who among us would be leading. Talon immediately offered, much to my chagrin. So did this Mister Vale, however I did not know the man at the time. As such, I suggested that the Captain give leadership to Miss Ariel, as I trust she at least has the wisdom to listen to suggestion and now merely believe that screaming loudly at people will accomplish things.

I left them to decide who the leader would be as I gathered my effects that remained by the bench at the campfire. After adorning my armor, I returned to find that Talon was chosen the leader by the Captain. This did not surprise me, truth be told, as the Captain appeared less than adept at his command as well.

I imagine in this sort of community, there is less focus on ability and more upon seniority in those that receive promotions. The harsh environment also produces individuals equally harsh, I fear.

Unfortunately, Miss Ariel and Miss Elanandra both expressed that they shall not be going if Talon was to be the leader, and departed. The Captain requested to have their names, so that he knew who was an apparent 'traitor.' Talon was all too happy to offer their names in confirmation.

It was about now that Talon announced that he doubted the two culprits would be traveling fast, as they must be overconfidant. I confess, my countenance probably expressed my absolute shock at the imbecility of such a statement. It became only clearer and clearer that this man was entirely inept at any sort of command, much less one involved with what we were to do.

He began to say that we should guess where they might be headed and attempt to cut them off. He expected, through a product of guesswork, that we find them, then wait for them, through thousands upon thousands of acres. I could only think that this man was positively mad.

He at least, fortunately, asked what we thought. I, instead, suggested we be given horses. We would then bring the guard who found the culprits' effects with us, so he might show us where they were found. We would look to which side they were dropped, and find which side of the road had displaced brush, and move in that direction. We could only hope to follow their path as best we could, and hope that the advantage was our since we had horses. It was dependant upon hoping they did not have horses, but it was far better than searching blindly through gods only know what sort of countryside.

Mister Vale agreed with the idea, and Talon agreed somewhat reluctantly to the concept. Our travels along the path eventually lead us to the Valley road, where we dismounted our horses. We made our way up on to the cliffside, where we spotted two individuals walking the valley, who appeared to be the two from before. Of course, the woman was sans her red wig.

Making our way back down the cliff, some distance back, I suggested that the two allow me to speak with them both, so that Mister Vale and Talon could slowly come from behind. If we could capture them unawares, the better we might take them alive. For all we knew, this might have been part of a greater plan, and taking them alive would give us more information than merely killing them.

[The Almight Red]

I approched the two persons, beginning to engage them in conversation as the two others began approaching slowly. It seemed to be going rather well, and proving its purpose, until a patrol of the Legion showed up from the opposite way, from in the direction of the Gates of Sunderer.

I explained that we were hired by the Exigo to detain these individuals for crimes against their community. Unfortunately, Talon began blurting that they commited murder, treason, terrorism, and the like. Which immediately prompted the guard to take jurisdiction and take the issue over. It did not matter, at this point, what was said. Talon began tying the woman as the other man made his way to run. There was no attempt to subdue the man, by the guard. They merely cut him down, immediately.

A ridiculous event, if any. Following this, I confess some surprise came over me as Talon quickly changed from his ridiculously puerile disposition to one that was more akin to ingratiating to the guards, praising them and expressing they could do no wrong.

While Mister Vale and myself were attempting to make sure that this still proved beneficial for all involved, Talon seemed to only wish to kiss the boots of these men, attempt to puff up his image in front of them and then depart. He is, perhaps, the most frustrating man I have met, yet. Talon give me patience and wisdom to continue to deal with incompetant men such as he, whose ego is so large that it blinds him to his own shortcomings.

As Talon left, Mister Vale and I requested that we accompany the captured woman back to where ever the guard would go. They accepted our request. We made our way back to the small fort just outside the gates, where they brought the woman into some back room that was behind several locked gates and a door. It was then that they barred us access.

I can understand why they did such, as they even professed that since we were not part of the Legion, we had no reason to be in the room while the interrogation process progressed. But, I admit, it did not stay me from trying to convince them to still make an exception.

I did not wish to see the woman harmed, as well as I wished to know what the purpose of the two culprits' actions were. It was a futile exercise, in the end, attempting to reason with the guard.

As the conversation came to the topic of reward, I finally made my way to depart. I do not generally wish for coin in return for these actions. And this particular event made me even less desirable for such. The conclusion of it leaves a poor taste in my mouth, as I feel that we might have accomplished little, perhaps even nothing. Leaving along the Valley Road, I came across a courier from the Exigo, who was apparently sent to warn the fort ahead of us of our coming to apprehend the two suspects.

This raised at least one glaring question in my mind. How could the Exigo already know where we were headed, when we didn't know where the path would have lead us in the first place? It is confusing, to say the least, and I wish to get the oppurtunity to ask them in the future.

The man claimed that his horse broke an ankle alone the way, and that is why he was arriving so late. Mister Vale showed up behind me at about this point, apparently have concluded his matters with the guards at the fort. We explained to the courier that we were the men sent to apprehend the man, and that the one suspect still alive was in the hands of the Legion. With his duty completed in spirit, he made his way back to the city.

Mister Vale then questioned why I found it offensive that he asked for a reward, and I had to explain that I did not. He then proceeded to explain that he donated the stag given to him to the families of those attacked during the attacks on the Trade Post of Exigo. It is a generous and just action on his part, and he deserves commendation for it.

It was then that I returned to the Trading Post, feeling exhausted in body, mind, and even spirit. Even now, I do not feel as if any good was truly done. I am not sure if anything was really accomplished. I can not help but be reminded of Miss Ariel's talk of wondering if these things are worth it.

I have no doubt that they are. Because there is the possibility that these two would have attacked more, but now they are not able.

It still does not stop me from wondering if there is far more to this, and an oppurtunity was lossed due to carelessness on other individuals' parts.

At least I may say that I have found that Mister Vale proved to be a reasonable man, who values the lives of others, and isn't rash to decisions. I think he could prove a worthwhile companion on tasks such as these.

I spent some short time speaking with Miss Ariel, Miss Alanadra, and Mister Vigo about random things, before finally retiring. It had been a long day. And one that leaves me questioning many things.

Torm, I know You watch over me and all your followers. I know You look to the weak and innocent, hoping to bring them into Your fold.

I ask that You continue to give me the strength and the will to do these works of yours. That You help me continue to offer more of myself. That You make me more patient, more understanding, and more diplomatic with others.

I can only hope and pray that my actions reflect highly upon You. That I might shun actions that would make others consider You not as the great being and Lord that You are.

Torm, help me be who You wish that I be.

*Finally, after this excessively long journal entry, the man closes the book rapidly, returning both book and charcoal to his satchel. Looking around, he gives a small nod and polite smile to Elissa Ganvar as he departs the lodge into the rain, the melancholy weather reflecting his own thoughts.*

[The Almight Red]

*Stopping into the Four Lanterns Inn, found outside the gates to the City, Baragorn finds himself a vacant table. Noting the lavish surroundings, he concludes this is certainly the nicest lodging he had come to, since his
arrival to these lands. He allowed himself to lean back comfortably in his chair, listening to the welcome sounds that accompanied taverns. Some time later, he pulled out his journal as well as charcoal, beginning his scribing as he was wont to do.*

Once again, there is that amazing mixture of both elated joy at some things, and melancholy at others. But this is the way of the world. I do not walk some unique path. Every individual faces trials and happiness. Is it not how they react and choose to live their life that defines them?

I am not somehow inherently special. Others have faced far worse than I. Torm, give me the humility to understand I am but one man, but also give me the strength for the resolve to make a difference.

As my time of luxury to write these entires becomes less and less, I shall attempt to be more brief than I have in the past. But I fear that I am rather poor at such things. That is, summarizing events where I find details is of necessity.

Shortly after waking, I made my way to the firepit at the Exigo Trading Post. As is becoming custom. There I met the dwarf, Mister Glyir, once again. We talked about a few menial things, before he brought up the fact that vampries have been so bold as to visit this very campfire in front of a multitude of individuals.

I did not even know such powerful undead were in the area, much less were they walking around in sight, making their presences known.

Apparently the first time, it was one of the vampire leaders (how they knew this, I know not), and when attacked, this particular undead struck down all who opposed it. Mister Glyir surmises he was there merely to flaunt his power.

Another time it happened, it was not the same vampire, but one that merely wished to mock all those at the firepit. It was a different evening, by the way. None were able to harm this vampire, according to Mister Glyir, but the vampire did not strike down any of the others. It seems a bit peculiar.

On further discussion, Mister Glyir mentioned that he believes they could be from a group called the Dark Advent. This is the first I've heard of such a group of individuals, but Mister Glyir informs me they are primarily a group of Necromancers who now control a Tomb to the east of here. It used to be a more sanctified location, until a group of individuals overran the guardians of the catacombs. It now is a denizen for all sorts of vile individuals, who use the dead for their own nefarious scemes and malicious deeds.

It was not long after this that Mister Glyir had to depart. It appears that things become more and more complicated, the longer I stay in these lands. Torm, grant me clarity.

Not long after this, I ran across Miss Figgleleaf. Truth be told, it is almost a relief, at times, as she proves a companion that is entirely enjoyable and helps take my mind from more pressing matters. We decided to make our way to the hills, once again, to deal with a new goblin chieftan that had appeared.

Along our way there, we met another halfling. His name was Villis. I fear I can not recall his last name, currently. In fact, I'm not sure if he's ever revealed it. But, regardless, Mister Villis has proven a most amiable companion, and it appears he has developed quite the eye for Miss Figgleleaf. We invited him along with us up into the mountains. As we headed there, however, we ran across an orcish woman.

I try not to be suspicious of things, truly. But considering how recent the Goblin Wars were with my homelands, and the multitude of goblins and orcs that were involved in such, I can not drive that instinctual caution around such individuals. Her cloak that displayed the iconography of Umberlee did not help either.

She asked to come along with us to the goblins, and it was then that I decided to ask Torm for his clarity of vision, to look to the heart of this woman. And her person was found wanting, in the eyes of my Lord. I told her I could not risk her coming along, her person having a dark effect over it. She made her complaints known, but I would not risk the other two with me, merely because she wanted to see what was afoot in the goblin hills. Or so is what she said. Wolves come in many guises.

We eventually made our way to the hills and dealt with the goblin presence, fortunately. As we departed, I spoke with Mister Villis, and he mentioned that he had been asked to deal with an infestation in the sewers. As Miss Figgleleaf and myself have had ample oppurtunity at such endeavors, we made our way there, and helped Mister Villis deal with such a threat.

During the course of the sewers, we came across a hulking woman, looking much like an orc, but different from the last we met. More grayish skin tons, and weird designs on her face. She requested our help with another large lizardkin that had apparently infested the sewers. I was entirely ammenable to this, but I still felt cautious, considering the last orc we had come across. Once again, I asked for the sight to see to the core of her being, to judge her moral compass.

Once again, I fear, it was not of a pleasant demeanor. I informed the woman that Torm had seen to her soul, and that allowing her to travel with us would be to put those I chose to protect at risk. I informed her that we would help with the large lizardkin, for it posed a serious threat, but from there, we would part ways.

Though seemingly agitated by this response, she accepted our help. And things came to pass just as said. We struck down the large lizardman, and then we parted ways with the orcish woman.

Following such, Miss Figgleleaf and Mister Villis took their leave, as they began to express their exhaustion following our work.

I made my way back to the Trade Post, and there I found Miss Ariel at the firepit. We spoke for some time, but for the halfling named 'Fetton' (who I still suspect as being the one named Logan, found in the Enemies of the State document) who attempted to pester us to no end, we left for the inside of the lodge area.

Inside, Samin, Miss Ariel, and I spoke about some things until Fetton once more showed up, only to attempt to pester me over and over. I thank Torm for granting me patience to endure his attempts to pester my person.

Eventually another hafling shows up, one that Miss Figgleleaf had mentioned in the past to be quite rude to her. I would eventually learn her name as being Syne. Lastly, a man clad in all black would arrive, however I can not currently recall his name. Perhaps he didn't offer it, now that I think about it. Regardless, Mister Samin asked for help with recovering some goods for the wizard named Rodrick. It would appear that this wizard loses a great deal of his goods to banditry.

After prolonged discussion, everyone in the lodge agreed to assist Samin in this endeavor. Except for Fetton. But as we would later find out, he followed us anyway.

We made our way to the Valley Road, and up the path to the usual small fortification that the bandits dwelled under. There were many more than usual, but they still proved to be not too dangerous. One of the bandits tried to run, announcing he would get help. Fortunately, the man in black was able to strike him down before he could escape. His direction was around the cliffside, and so I mentioned that there must be more bandits. We might as well take a look. And so we did find more bandits.

This time it was a bit larger group, but the peculiarity of such lied in the fact they had some sort of small winged creature that threw magic from its tiny appendages. Still, our group was victorious in putting our foes to the ground. Moments later, in a small cave not far from us, a man walked out, holding a long staff. Immediately after he saw us, he exclaimed, "Excuse me!" and ran back inside.

After some arguments of whether we should follow or not, Fetton (who had revealed himself to be along by this point) threw himself inside the caves without thinking it through. Despite my dislike of the small man's personality, I didn't feel it right to just simply leave him to go down there alone. Though, he has proven his skills are impressive.

Eventually the entirety of the group decided to follow after the halfling. After some drudging through the caverns, we came across the man with the staff and a couple others. We ordered them to surrender themselves, but instead they merely threw their persons at us, in aggression.

We had no choice but to cut them down. Finding a secret passageway through the cavern wall, we continued for quite some time, until coming across a place that looked like it was made into a den for these bandits. After some time of discussing what was to be done, we revealed our persons, calling for them to lay down their arms.

One of the men merely laughed and argued with my person. I will never understand such. I even explained to the man that we had clearly fought through all of their other men to get to this point, with barely a problem. It did not phase him. I suppose that in their banditry, they had found blind hubris. Which is unfortunate, for I had rather taken them without bloodshed.

[The Almight Red]

But, before bloodshed should happen, a man walked out of a sideroom, clad in the uniform of the Legion. He immediately asked us to join him in his 'office.' I promptly refused. I would not put us in the belly of the beast, so to speak. At least where we were, in the small opening leading into their den, we could hold them off, where their numbers meant less.

Miss Ariel agreed. Mister Samin did not. In fact, Mister Samin began to walk through the den, moving to follow after the man in the Legion's uniform. This apparent Legionaire then demanded that we come along. If we did not, his bandits were ordered to kill us.

I still refused. And Miss Ariel had my back. Miss Syne and Fetton had already hidden by this point, so communication with them was pointless. I only hoped they had decided to stay around and help. After just a few more words with the bandits, telling them that they still had a chance to put down their arms, they instead attacked.

They even attacked Samin, who had agreed to go along with them. The battle was over quickly, tiny explosions going off everywhere. It appears that traps were laid by Miss Syne and Fetton. It proved beneficial, if a bit underhanded. Samin was beaten to near death, but fortunately we were able to save him from having to meet Kelemvor that day.

Even the man in the Legion's uniform attacked us. It seems foolish. You'd think he'd stay back and allow his underlings to do the work, and if the situation looked poor, he'd surrender. Apparently not.

Miss Syne eventually found some posters, and they proved to be of the Veritas. I'm not sure if I mentioned in my last entry, but the red wig that was found from the culprits (concerning the terrorism at the Trading Post) was also found with a poster of the Veritas. It seems their plans are far reaching.

On the body of the Legionaire, all I was able to find was a dagger that seemed inscribed with markings that marked it the property of the Legion. Though, this was not exactly surprising, considering he was also wearing their armor.

After some discussion of what was to be done, I decided I would take the body to the city. I recognized it might prove dangerous, arriving to the Legion with one of their own, a corpse, but I believe it had to be done.

After exiting the caverns, Samin promptly left to his own business, as well as Fetton. As far as I know, anyway. He has a rather coy talent at staying out of sight.

Making our way back to the city, we were stopped by the guards outside, considering that I was carrying a body of one of their own. Or so it appeared. I requested we speak with their commander, as I said it concerns a matter of possible corruption. After a brief amount of dialogue, they accepted, and Miss Ariel, Miss Syne, and I were brought before the Master Watchman.

To summarize that conversation, he accepted our story, however was not entirely accepting of the concept that there was corruption in the Legion. When I mentioned that the body could be brought to the fort at the Gates of the Sunderer, he merely shook his head and said it was clear that this man was merely an imposter working for the Veritas.

He did not want to consider the fact that there was the possibility of corruption. Miss Syne and Miss Ariel spoke with him for a bit more, and towards the end of the discussion I asked if I might be given the body in my custody, and I would be charged with bringing it back. I merely wished to go to the fort and confirm if any man knew this person. I didn't expect him to say yes, and it came to pass as such. It was a Legion matter, of course, and it would be dealt with by the Legion.

Before we left, I explained my person. How I was of Torm's followers, and the True knew all too well the ramifications of corruption. I merely asked that he be open to the possibility, and that I would be willing to assist them in any way I could. His answer was simply that I was being smug and he didn't wish for my advice.

Once again, I come face to face with the fact that this land produces harsh individuals. And I fear that with such a man leading the Legion, it will make it quite possible that corruption can fester within their organization. For if their very leader would rather turn a blind eye to such, I can only surmise many of his subordinates follow suit.

Perhaps this is why Torm lead me to this place. To help watch the corruption that burrows into organizations and groups that were meant to protect the people. To server the people. Perhaps I am here to help in some way, even if not directly.

Torm, give me the sight to recognize it. The people will suffer even further if the people to protect them are instead merely self-serving. Keep me from hubris and pride, and instead make me a vessel to show your works upon others. May my righteousness be tempered with humility. May my strength be countered with servitude. May my life give glory to you.

*Finally, the man stands up from the table he sits at, putting away his effects. Nodding once to the bartender, he takes his leave of the building.*

[The Almight Red]

*Baragorn stands beneath a pavilion in Exigo Trading Camp, the sound of a torrent of rain all around him, precipitation turning the well traveled paths to mud. As it appeared the storm would not relent any time soon, the man digs about his pack, pulling out his small book and charcoal. Setting them upon the table located near him, he digs further into his satchel, retrieving a candle and a holder for such. Placing it upon the table, he strikes flint near the wick, bringing a small bit of light to his surroundings. Despite the slight strain to his eyes, he writes once again.*

There remains no sign of Miss Nightingale. No word from her, not even the slightest of rumours from any person in the area. None have even heard of her, and even the innkeeper (of where she said she would supposedly stay) seems vague in his recollections. Worry begins to take hold of me.

As do many other things. I believe everyone, at one point or another, begins to question the decisions they have made. They wonder if they are fit for the path they have chosen to follow. Or if that route was even the correct one.

My teachers would simply tell me that if the path of righteousness was easy, it would no longer be what it was. I can not find myself to disagree with such a concept, but it brings little relief to me at the moment. Cormyr has had its problems, and I have been there to help with them, but they seem immensely different. Immensely different from the complications of this land.

And how I do hate second guessing myself, as I do now. I feel like some foolish child, ringing his hands in frustration, where instead I should be standing tall, stalwart, without wavering. I feel as if some silly cliche, the sentimental individual who refuses to see what is obvious just so he might complain and moan of his predicament.

All this talk of what the Legion does, of the Veritas, of the corruption that is spreading, it weighs heavily on my mind. I speak what I believe Torm would wish. That we must be unwavering in the face of duty. That we must stand against those who wish to harm the innocent. But these things do not seem clear. I wonder if I would be better suited to Ilmater than the Loyal Fury. That I would do better looking to simply comfort everyone than stand against the enemy.

For I don't quite clearly see who the enemy is, here. Those Veritas that wish to perform acts against civilians to prove their point? I can not abide such actions. No good comes from barbarism. But they are desperate people, now resorting to desperate actions. And the Legion does not help. Miss Ariel has told me of an event where a group of Legionnaires cut down unarmed individuals. The man who led those of the Legion announced that those they struck down were Veritas.

Even if so, how can their actions be justified? Why not take prisoners? So often people wish to say things such as it can't be helped. That this is war. That war is unspeakable. But it doesn't mean our own actions must be unspeakable as well. And yet, I remind myself, my thoughts are not unique. They are not original.

Miss Ariel seems to think I am a fount from which wisdom flows, where I feel as if such a tap is dried up. I can only regurgitate that which the priests have told me, the tenets and dogma I have been reciting for years now. And worst of all, I fear this entire entry is an exercise in futility. That my words seem a pallid shade of the growing darkness that grips my soul. What does Torm think of me, for thinking such thoughts? Would He be upset? Does He weep? Does He maybe even understand?

I have been asked several times since I've arrived, "What good comes of it?" I confess, I know not.

I just hope Torm leads me to do what needs to be done so good does come of all this. And I hope I can recognize it when He is trying to lead me.

*The man quickly closes the small book, then blowing out the candle. Packing his effects away, he departs the small tent, making his way north, back to the city.*

[The Almight Red]

*Sitting in a bunk within the Temple Barracks of the Triumvirate, Baragorn would pull out the leather bound book that had been left undisturbed for some time now. Giving himself a portion of time to skim through previous entries, he'd eventually flip to the first unmarked page. Staring at it in silence for a bit, he'd finally retrieve his piece of charcoal, pressing it to parchment.*

It has been long since my last entry. And I feel as if it's almost a detriment that I would put it off for so long. It feels as if much just weighs upon my mind, and that I would rather push it from thought than confront it, and thus these pages were left to be blank.

I could not possibly recall everything that has transpired since last I wrote. I have met so many new people, and also seen some leave so quickly as well. I have seen dangers, come close to death, and struggled with my own fraility. I have seen others fall to violence, both friend and foe.

I have fought a Banite who would create sacrilege on everything that is good and right. And even when he died, he only returned from death, before my very eyes.

I have spoken further with Mister Erishkigal on things I do not understand, and seem so far above a simple man as myself.

I have seen Miss Figgleleaf become an amazing arcanist, a mage who's power seems to fell many before her might. But I have also seen the cost of one with such power may wrought, when it's used for ill ends. I feel clouded, confused why such a usually timid creature would try to murder another, simply because she believes they 'smell' like wrong magic. Even when she's seen she has been wrong about the discerning of the nature of things before. In that very instance.

I do not know what I would do if I were to learn she murdered another individual due to her flimsy reasonings. She would have to answer to justice, but as I've grown so close to her as a friend, could I possibly be the one to do such?

It is things such as this that bends my mind towards the thought of distancing myself from others. That to lend my hand in the help is necessary, but not to grow too close to cloud my judgement as to what is right and just. For if I allow myself to mistake upon these things, what untold evils may I possibly allow in the future?

Part of me wishes to return to Cormyr, and to make my way back to the Ilmatari monastery that I spent my early years in. The patience, the peace, the moments of reflection allowed were some of the greatest times of my life. Things appeared so much clearer when in such an environment. Feeding the hungry, training in temple, meditating on the scriptures while under a clear sky, with the warm sun.

And yet, I even feel guilty for being envious of such a life, for our mind and hearts are to turn to Torm, and the duties we must fulfill. I feel as if I am sometimes an unwilling servant, dragging his feet to a route he does not desire. A petulant child. Puerile, even.

The one thing that makes me feel... good, feel that I have done something worth while, is my test to the Triumvirate. I was bidden to take care of a man once of the temple, fallen from the grace of the Triad. A man by the name of Reithis Delkar. He had apparently turnt to evil, even murdering innocents. Murdering other agents of the temple that were told to seek him out, merely to speak.

When I finally found this man in the forests of the Viridale, I found him near two bodies, mercilessly killed. Expounding upon the specifics would mean little, as I believe in the end that it was more Delkar's heart that finally cried out to his own person to turn from what he had done. He needed only a moment of clarity to see what he had become.

And he listened. The man listened. And he even did what was right and just. He turned himself into the law. Knowing that even despite his repentence, he will most likely be executed for the murders he now has. This murderer... he humbles myself, that he knew what true justice was. That when he finally had found sanity among the wild bestialism he had previously exhibited, that he finally found true justice and what it was to mean to do what was right.

Master Luther promised me that he would make sure that I could speak on Delkar's behalf when his trial comes. I know he is a murdered. I know he has done evil things, and it anguishes me. But when you see a man who has lived in despair and wrath, his anger consuming him, and then see him turn back from such? To have that moment of clarity, as if everything in his being cried out against the actions he had done? To see that man, I would wish we would not lose him merely to death.

The insight he might offer others. The truth he might speak to others. Imagine, Torm, if he could speak to another man walking the path of evil, and show him visibly that one can turn from such a path? That it's never too late. That all things are not destined towards a path of destruction, no matter how far along that route they have travelled.

No matter what happens, Delkar's decision has proven to me that no one is ever truly lost. That everyone has that chance to bring themselves out of despair.

I ramble now. But it is something that has touched me deeply. Possibly more than anything else I have seen in Sundren so far. Who would think that a murderer could shed such light?

It feels as if it was a candle in darkness. Amongst all the strife and anguish. Amongst my troubles of Miss Figgleleaf, the vanishing of Miss Nightingale, and my distancing myself from others.

My confusion with my devotions. My fear of noncommitment to my god. My envy of a previous life.

It feels as if a decision of a murderer for atonement has given me a sort of peace that could move me to tears.

I fear I am a contradictory creature.

Torm, give me your Wisdom and Resolve.

[The Almight Red]

*Sitting crosslegged on the floor of the Ilmatari section of the Temple of the Triumvirate, Baragorn would be sans his usual armor, instead dressed in simple, drab colors of his old Order, when he trained in the monastery back in Cormyr. With the small journal sitting in his lap, he'd allow himself to stare at it for some time before finally opening it to a fresh page, beginning the scribe.*

Miss Figgleleaf has become so desperate in her beliefs that this man must be murdered in the mountains, that I can no longer lend her my aid in my usual capacity. For how could I possibly help her continue to grow in strength, in the acquisition of her spells, when it is so clear that she intends to use such for the murdering of an individual?

It has come to the point that she became so frustrated, she simply walked away in a rage. And now I fear that these things have created a sort of schism between us. I know it's the case. I also believe I was correct in my assumptions. That one who wishes to follow the path I have chosen must regulate their familiarity with others. That one must at least keep somewhat distant, so that their judgement might not be clouded, and then inadvertantly tolerate some immoral action that puts others at risk.

A woman just the last evening even attempted to put this to the test, declaring that I'm of the age where I should have a wife and children. But how can this be so, when I am who I am? What sort of man marries when he leads a life that is devoted to Duty? What sort of man puts himself in a situation where he must choose between his Duty or his wife? Or what if some situation calls into question whether he must follow his children or his Duty?

To be truthful, my mind hadn't even touched upon such in years, besides. I had become so absorbed in other things, such thoughts seemed to have entirely evaporated from my person. In reflection, I can't help but think this is for the best. If I was overly concerned with looking for a woman I can only surmise that it could become a distraction to what I must do in life. Never-the-less, the woman seemed rather insistant, saying I needed to be looking. She even went so far as to plainly say she was flirting with me.

I could only tell her plainly that neither the Monastery or Temple had ever really taught me about such things. It's simply foreign to my person. And besides, I am not the sort to, well, whatever it is that I would be in such a situation.

As I read over these words, I can not help but think they seem entirely immature, as if written by a young school boy. While so many are concerned with these things, I am practically blind to it. While many look for that love of their life, it does not even cross my mind. Does that make me better to my Duty? Does it make me worse? Does it even matter? More mysteries for the pile, I suppose.

There have been a great deal of things that Mister Erishkigal has revealed to me of late. In fact, he has even found it within his capacity to become truthful about some details as of late. Such as his name being actually Malaclypse. He's even told me the details of the past 'misunderstanding' that's caused him to go into hiding.

Honesty is something I value greatly. And I appreciated it. He has been able to give me information on a variety of things, lately, which has resulted in my handing them along to various members of the Triumvirate. I hope these things prove useful in the endeavors of not only the church, but to the people of these lands. For they are what matter above all, as Torm's Code so clearly represents.

There is no doubt in my mind that much of this is well beyond my means and understanding. Talk of great vampires born of old malevolent spirits, the Dark Advent creating contraptions within the Necropolis, the return of Myrkul, Banites that try to tempt all to their own ends.

And not to mention, corruption. Possible corruption in the Legion itself. I have had the oppurtunity to speak with an individual about such, but I shall have them unnamed in here, for their own safety. Suffice to say, they have their own suspicions towards such, and so I have passed along all the information I possessed on the matter, in the hopes they might put it to more use than I could.

The Loyal Fury knows the consequences of corruption spreading from within. It creates distrust, schisms, and oppression. These are the last things the people of this Valley need. There is already enough that endangers them that they should not have to worry about those that are sworn to protect them. I can only pray that this is something that is dealt with, quickly and surely.

I have also informed Sister Cybil and Miss Yashia about the large snake like creatures that have taken up residence in the caves around Sestra, where the Slitherscale usually reside. I have also learned that it is best to leave the Slitherscale be, in the desire for peace between them and the people of Sestra, and this is something I intend to abide by. I shall let any others know, who will listen, that they should be left in peace.

But I shall keep watch over the caves when able, for any signs of these large snake creatures. Sister Cybil believes they could either be creatures called Yuan-ti or Naga. Whatever the case, they are powerful, and they are at least numerous, it would seem. Once again, things that feel beyond my measures, my understanding.

Mister Bassman has been hit with a conscience of faith, recently. He has told me, previously, about his amnesia, remembering little since some sort of accident where he awoke among rubble. He has then told me, recently, that he has never trusted nor followed any god. At least since his amnesia, that is, for he could not remember previous to that. Recent events have made his mind turn to otherwise, and has begun to question me on the realms of some gods, and even as to why I follow them.

He has even begun to show interest in the True, in particular. Mister Bassman, I believe, would be accepted readily by the Loyal Fury. He seems to believe deeply in Duty. He believes in what is moral and just, such as charity to others less fortunate, and also still the necessity of laws for the protection of people. He also vehemently dislikes corruption as well.

It is with this mind and heart that I truly believe the True will accept him, and so will the church. I hope to see this come to pass, and I pray that Torm help guide him, give him the wisdom to understand and the courage to proceed.

And lastly, something that weighs heavily on my mind, is a man named Harik. I do not even know how to put on paper what he intends to do, but he has asked for my help. While he knows I do not condone what he intends to do, he knows I will help make sure that after it is completed that he has someone to help guide him.

I am shocked he would even ask me such a thing, truth be told. Ask my person to help guide him. It is something I feel ill equipped for, and usually more fitted for a priest. But I choose to believe that the True has helped allow this situation come to pass, and I shall not neglect in helping with whatever assistance I might lend.

I just truly hope this man does not damage himself further. That this does not scar him beyond how he already is.

And now I must remain and endure all of these things. For who am I to complain, when I am just the man who reacts? I am not the man that must deal with most of these things directly. I am not the one carrying these burdens.

I am just the man that Torm will use to help in whatever way I can. There is no room to complain. Give me that strength so that I might, Loyal Fury.

[The Almight Red]

*Baragorn sits himself down at a bench, located at the Legion post in the Schild Mountains region. Looking about for a few moments, he takes in the sights. The catapult and the men that man it. The headquarters tent, where it seems a constant bustle of individuals were coming and going. Those that were training long into the day, sweat pouring off their faces. Those eating their meals at the tables behind his person. It was, all in all, a busy place to be. But he still found himself pulling out his small book, flipping open to the next vacant page to write.*

My entries seem to be come shorter and shorter as time goes by. I'm not exactly of the belief that it's necessary, but I find that I can't bring myself to elaborate on every detail at this point. With that being said, or written as it were, I shall relate the events that I recall.

The great shaking of the earth, the vampire attack on many outlying towns, and the mysterious appearance of this being claiming to be a god. All of these things do not speak well, at all. Nor does this Watcher individual.

The vast multitude of vampires is simply perplexing. Mind boggling, even. How could such a number of them have been created? Where do they even find that many people to bring under their damnation, and then set them upon so many cities at once? It is a staggering thought.

And then there are the Red Wizards. Not only did they not help with protecting Aquor from the onslaught of these heinous undead, they even locked their gates from the civilians seeking refuge to their Enclave. They actively stood there and turned the people away. There is no doubt about it. These Red Wizards are horrendous individuals. Despicable, even. I have informed several within the Legion of their actions, and I can only hope that something is done about it. Though, from what I've been told, even from Sister Cybil, it seems that the Legion will go to lengths to not create any conflict between themselves and the Red Wizards, as to keep their relations on good terms.

It's rather nauseating when this comes to mind. That they would sacrifice what is right and just for trinkets the Red Wizards offer.

I have also been cursed. If that is the appropriate thing to call it. The individual claiming to be a god seems to have infected me with something. Mister Erishkigal said it was, "an imbuement of Negative Energy." And he is almost positive it is Necromantic in some fashion. There were two others I was worried might have had the same done to them. Mister Bassman and Brother Rodderick, as they were there when it happened to me, and under similar circumstances.

It turns out Mister Bassman did not receive a similar affliction, which I am overly thankful for. Ah, which has reminded me. Mister Bassman has decided to devote himself to the Triumvirate. And to make his Patron the Loyal Fury. Truly, there is a moment of extreme bliss, to see that man devote himself to a god of such righteous standing. I look forward to the coming days, being able to call him a brother in faith.

I have yet to speak to Brother Rodderick since the event took place, so whether he has been 'imbued' or not, I have yet to know.

It has become readily apparent we need information on the Advent threat. But how we are to get it has proven troublesome, and many of us disagree on how it might be done. But Mister Erishkigal and I came up with a loose idea. Perhaps I could be used as bait, of a sort, to lure out one of their supplicants. Perhaps they could be captured then, and questioned. There is no guarantee that they would offer any information, but it does not mean it's impossible, either.

And Immunes Twilight seemed rather excited about this prospect as well. Ah, perhaps I should explain as to the nature of this 'curse.' It has brought me an unnatural rage. A sort of rage, a passion, that hadn't been inside my person before. I have found myself becoming upset, angry, full of animosity, at things that previously wouldn't have done such. Or, at least, that is what Ii'd like to believe.

Many have begun to notice it, even show concern. On topics that I'd usually remain silent or patient upon, I seem to become stirred up, and voice thoughts almost that would have seemed foreign to myself, previously. What I fear the most, however, is that the more time passes I might not even realize that what I begin to feel and think used to be foreign to my person.

What if this eventually makes it so that I can not even tell that it is not myself thinking these things? What if it becomes adopted into my very being? These are things that cross my mind, but I suppose do little to reflect upon.

Immunes Twilight and Mister Cirion apparently went through something similar, some time in the past. Not the exact same, or so I believe, but something similar. And they both offered good advice on such. To always remember I am who I am. Not to forget who I was, even if my passions, or apathy, bend me towards other ends. Hopefully I can keep such in mind and heart, in the coming days.

And hopefully this curse might be used against the Advent, if we can go through with our plan to capture one of theirs. Information is sorely needed.

As to the Watcher that showed up at the temple of the Triumvirate, it brings me worry. As it created arguments, of a sort. Many believing that we should listen to this 'woman,' despite the clear nature of evil present in her. But I will be honest, I will not abide her, now will I accept the words she offered.

She claimed that the Triad could do nothing to stop this apparent 'god,' that the Anti-Phylactery was beyond the power of the Triad. And it seemed so many were willing to hear her out, even those within the church.

Which is something I will not find myself doing. What sort of follower of Torm would I be if I were to doubt my faith in him? My faith in his strength and power? What sort would I be to lose sight in what I believe Tyr and Ilmater can see us through, with? I shall be honest in the fact that I truly hope that the Triumvirate eventually decides that her words aren't that which we should put faith in. But instead, we should put faith in the gods we have offered our lives to.

Fair-weathered faith is not faith at all.

There is a great deal more that I should write about, but my mind grows weary. Another time I shall continue.

[The Almight Red]

*At the place many call the Crossroads, Baragorn sits upon a chest near a campfire, his journal upon his lap, beginning the process of scribing events.*

Once again, I seem to put this off too long, and in the process, many things come to pass. Too many things.

Immunes Twilight has created me a sword beyond my belief. It has a certain majesty to it, intricate, and detailed, and far beyond what I expected when I simply requested a silver blade. Not only this, but during the corronation of the blade, Torm himself blessed it. To this very moment, I can barely believe it. That the Loyal Fury would find it worthy to grant His power to a blade He would have me wield. I can only hope I do it justice, and well as He.

And I have Immunes Twilight to thank a great deal for such. His craftsmanship and friendship, both. He is, truly, my closest companion in these days. Though that might be somewhat different now. We shall see.

Not long after this, Immunes, Mister Cirion, I, and eventually Mister Erishkigal, came across peculiarities in the Necropolis. We tracked voices through its interior, encountering all sorts of orcs, and even undead orcs, along the way, much to our confusion. When on the lower levels, some sort of shadow creature moved to dwell inside Cirion's mind, even without his permission.

Further up, we came across a cowled man and another shadowy creature, this time many times larger than the first. Immunes named the shadowy creature as Vultgar. Both eventually departed, the cowled man and Vultgar that is. But not before Vultgar brought forth an undead creature, who was sentient for some moments. It claimed to be a man named Mundar, a Helmite, now twisted into what it was. He eventually lost control of his actions, and we were forced to destroy it. I truly pray he now received the rest he deserves in the afterlife.

During our expedition through the place, we even heard the voices mention that they were looking for the body of Mundus, who they believed was in the crypts. Eventually we would reach that place, or at least I assume it was a sort of Crypt. We found Vultgar again, and he attempted to mock us, even Mundar, a 'hero from old,' as he called him.

I confess... my mind, my voice, my heart moved to rage. I feel that perhaps the curse took over me, as I became blind with fury, that this creature would mock the man he had enthralled as an undead abomination. It resulted in my seeking to destroy its presence. I have no remorse for this, however. It was thoroughly despicable and evil. I just worry that I could be taken over so thoroughly by the course, my actions driven through things other than just my will. It does not speak well.

Vultgar thought he would be impervious to us, but it proved otherwise. But before his final breath... or whatever life a shadowy creature might have, he vanished. These things seem to happen far too often in these lands. Soon after, another creature arrived, an orc. Who seemed less disposed towards speaking. He brought with him a great deal of his brothers, or kindred, and it resulted in a dire battle. But we remained victorious, and it ended with the dead of this orc chieftain, of a sort.

Through all of this, the cowled man was in the room, seeming to manipulate some sort of orb. Finally our attention could turn to him, and he even congratulated us. He claimed that we had done his work for him, killing all the orcs that he had manipulated for his own ends. Mister Erishkigal, in particular, seemed affronted by this.

This cowled man claimed that the orb was a collection of souls, a great multitude. Even thousands. He spoke at greater length, though briefly, with Mister Erishkigal, but I admit. I understood very little of it. Eventually the man in the cowl vanished from our sight, and the shadowy creature that dwelled in Mister Cirion appeared.

The creature said that the orb the cowled man had was an anomaly that he was using for nefarious purposes. He then moved us from that place, bringing to show us a vision in the Mossdale.

The shadowy creature claimed that the history of the lands was not entirely correct. That it had been tainted, even changed, that some might believe a man was a hero, when he was not.

The first vision showed the Legion, preparing a great assault on the Mossdale Orcs. It resulted in a slaughter. Then a Hand named Gaul came to wreak vengeance upon them, and even confronted one of their chieftans to destroy him. He succeeded, and this is the apparently the history as it is written.

Then he showed us another vision. It was largely similar, however this time it was Gaul who specifically sent the Legion to do this duty. The result of the Legion all being slaughtered was the same. What happened was not. Gaul wreaked no vengeance. Instead he met with this chieftan of the orcs, and this orc even called Gaul his 'master.' Not only this, but it was illuminated it was all the plan of Gaul to create this situation. He then asked the orc chieftan to 'adopt another form' until the proper time.

The shadowy creature showing us this claimed that the second vision was the truth of history, while the first was what this apparent hero just wished for people to believe. I'm still unsure what to make of this, to be honest. How much can be trusted of such beings? And why show us this? It had little in the ways of answers, I fear.

Some days later, I met an elf that went by the name Leck. I eventually explained to Mister Leck about these proceedings in the Necropolis, and this ended up resulting in him wanting to see the place in question, despite the vision being something from the past.

And so, it turned to be Mister Leck, Immunes Twilight, Sister Cybil, Mister Wiltenholm, Mister Erishkigal, I, and a man of stealth that went there. I believe some might have called the man of stealth by the name Fetton. To make a long story short, we eventually found our way to a temple, where we were met by a large orc, with a blue skull painted upon his face. He spoke with Mister Erishkigal at some short length, but it eventually turned hostile as the orc seemed anything but cordial.

It evolved into a bit of bickering between Mister Leck and the orc, and that resulted in violence. Eventually the orc retreated into the temple. After some time, we decided to follow him in. Unfortunately, we never found him. But... what we did find was rather dire. We eventually came to a room that had a staircase leading down into a chasm of sorts, and on the other side a staircase leading up to a portal. This portal came to life at the entrance to this room, and began to spew forth Banites of all sorts. Even a creature like the creature faced in the Crossroads from a month past, that was called a Guard of Bane.

But, more than this was another creature. Some incredibly powerful creature that we could not destroy. Continually we brought our blades upon it, and magic, but whenever it began to weaken, it'd move to this pool of dark energy, and siphon from it, restoring its vigor, and sometimes even forming new weapons! It'd materialize such, and begin its onslaught once again. I an not even recall how many times this had happened, and many began speaking of making a withdrawal, before we found that place to be our graves.

I confess, we were in little position to continue. So, I did the only thing I could of. As the creature once again made its way to this pool of dark energy to restore itself, I rushed forward as well, plunging the blade blessed by Torm into the murky pool as well, calling to the Loyal Fury for His strenght. And He answered. The creature screamed out in pain, at this, beginning to assault me immediately. It was everything I could do just to defend myself, trying to stay alive due to its onslaught.

Fortunately, the rest of my allies were able to take the moment to attack him with all the strength they had left, which resulted in them destroying the creature in a bright shower of light. Or so I at least hope it was destroyed. Whatever the case, Torm had saved us that day. The True heard my cry for His help, and He did not ignore it. He is deserving of being the True. And He deserves my praise and thanks.

I have found out, however, that by placing my blade into that pool, my curse that's currently inside me acted as some sort of magnet. I have, apparently, absorbed more of this negative energy into my being, growing the effects, the characteristics of this curse. I have found myself more easily moving to this rage and anger since then. And it makes me question when it is merely my will and decisions, and when it is tainted by a curse inside me.

The Watcher has returned once again. This time imparting a tome to Mister Wiltenholm. This book, it radiates with such evil that it is impossible to not notice. I did not need even attempt to focus on it to discern such. It was so powerful its vile attributes, I felt almost compelled to vomit, while in its vicinity. Unfortunately, this all took place in the Exigo Trade Camp, and while almost a dozen people were in the vicinity, Mister Wiltenholm opens the book to begin reading.

I don't understand how he can so carelessly do such, when so many stand around, when they could be harmed by such powers. He claimed he found no trap upon it, but what if he had missed something? What if something was released by the opening of that book, and it has tainted someone because of this? It seemed that absolutely no precautions were taken, when we could have at least brought it somewhere else, a priest taking precautions in such things, before so hastily opening it due to curiosity.

[The Almight Red]

Whatever the case, we then brought the book to the Triumvirate. It is here that Mister Wiltenholm explained a portion of the text, that spoke of how to destroy this Anti-Phylactery. That it would take those of malevolent deities to do such. The two cited in the book were Cyric and Myrkul. Balthasar began to muse whether such would be necessary. He began to consider that it might be necessary to cooperate with such individuals of these gods. I listened through much of it, but when he stopped questioning himself and blatently said that we might need do this, I could hold my peace no more.

For what good are the vows we take if we abandon them in these times? What good is the Faith we hold to, if we don't trust in our Gods now? He claimed he had thousands to look towards, and I agree. But he would sacrifice not just his own soul, but the soul of these people in this action. He would make a statement that we may act with evil when it suits our needs, and what does that say to the people?

He became angry, believing I insulted him. And then he began to claim my own words merely as anger. But this is one time I know I was not angry. Overwhelming melancholy befell me, as I knew where this was headed. Balthasar even declared that his prayers came to naught, and so this was the answer they needed.

And it was here that I announced my departure. That I could no longer be a part of the Triumvirate. That I would not abandon the gods I chose to follow. I would not dispense with the Code of Torm, despite difficult times. I would not dispense with my vows that I took when becoming one of my Order.

Balthasar's parting words were that I should go bang my sword on the Necropolis, and find where being a martyr has one end up. It is obvious that he feels insulted, grieved, by my words. But if I do not stand for what Torm would have us stand for, what good am I as His follower? If we faulter in this, if we waver in this, we open the floodgates for all number of justifications. This is a road that leads to all sorts of excuses, and a road I can not travel.

I could not, in good conscience, follow a man with such judgement. I am afraid of what he might ask of me in the future, truth be told. I follow the Triad, not the Triumvirate. I follow Torm, Tyr, and Ilmater, not a mortal organization. Torm says to seek out the corruption, and I believe these Watchers are doing that. I can only hope I can help restore the Triumvirate in some way.

And that leads me to my main concern. Finding a solution to this, before the Triumvirate might fall to performing these actions. I feel as if the need becomes all the graver, more dire. That if an answer is not found soon, then some might go through with these actions. And the consequences of such, I do not even want to consider. Why should we trust this Watcher? Why? Any man or woman of Torm can see the evil in her.

And it leads me to my other decisions. Mister Harik has agreed to impart his curse to my person. His change is beginning to overtake him. I look at him, and he seems even hopeful. His eyes seem to burn with a new fire, a new fire for life, not just destitution.

It is as if Mister Harik realizes that his life can now be changed. That he has the power in this, and recognizes he can accept an offer for help. I wonder something. And I readily accept it most likely will lead to my destruction, for good. If this sword, this curse, can be transferred to me, could it be used against Velsharoon? It is a curse from his own divine power, even. Could his own power be used against him? What if we need not look to Cyricists and Myrkulites?

What if I can destroy both the sword, and this Anti-Phylactery at once? I have no aspirations I will survive this attempt. I fully understand it will be the end of my person, and there will be no ressurection after such. But what is one man, who willingly dies, when compared to thousands? There will be no cavorting with evil. There will be no allying with a Banite or Cyricist.

And perhaps the Triumvirate will remain pure from such taint. I would give my life for this. Torm, I would.

Mister Erishkigal knows of this. I have spoken to him, for I believe he is one of the few that would do what is necessary. That if I should fall to the curse that currently infests me, or to the sword, if it can be imparted to me, he would take my life. It's ironic. At one time, I felt that I did not trust him, because he was so quick with such a threat. But now, now he is one I trust a great deal. I trust him to do what is necessary, if I should become not myself, but something of destruction.

Tyr, give me the Wisdom to see this through to the end. Show myself and others how we can find a way to complete this without resorting to what this evil tome describes.

Ilmater, give me your Comfort, to help endure the trials that are to come, as you wrap me in your warm embrace.

Torm, give me the Strength to see this through to the end. Help me follow your Code, and help me be your vessel.

Gods of the Triad, help me protect the people by not disgracing you, but honoring you. And if it is your will, help me do this. Help me take this curse, and destroy both it and this Anti-Phylactery. I will gladly give my life for that.

*With that, the man closes the book, stands up, and leaves the countryside. Heading north, he'd head back into the city.*