Normally, passing through the barrier is an uplifting experience. Being surrounded with pure positive energy has that effect. However, on the morning of first day of the second tenday of Ches, there were two exceptions. The first was involving Xon, whose discomfort stemmed from interaction of the barrier with the parasite growing inside him. The second was involving Ravensong, the only one in the group who truly knew what the Paths of the Dead held.

At their best, the Paths are barren wastelands and a tedious journey scrabbling between canyons and cliff faces, slipping on stones, and no trace of life save those you travel with. Most of the time, however, the physical dangers are far outweighed by the inevitable presence of unlife, clawing at your flesh during the day and searching for your very soul at night. Perhaps it would be better if there were incorporeal undead along the Path, then no one would risk such a foolish passing. But as far as anyone has found, there are not. Safety in the evenings can be found by finding shelter encased in caves of stone, blocking the outside world. The nights are naturally long, especially in the winter, and the sounds of claw against stone as the undead seek your blood makes each evening an eternity.

The boneyard, while not predicted, was not entirely unexpected. These creatures with no life of their own, no task but to destroy any living thing they encounter, lay dormant when the foolish are not traveling the Path. And there are very few who would make such a trip in the snow clogged winter months. That they tend to be found in clumps perhaps comes from an ending of their purpose in the place where their clawed hands eradicated the last vestiges of life.

What was unexpected was the man in the black cape. In a valley of trees as dead and lifeless as the rest of the surrounding environment, a creature the same size as a man was sitting in the branches of a great, skeletal tree in the middle of the path. His cloak, like his boots and gloves, were so deep a black, even Xon was jealous of them. His face was shadowed in the shallow hood of his cloak and hidden by a stark white porcelain mask.

“I have been waiting for you Molistead.”
“Me? What?” a confused Molistead utters.
“I am here to tell you that you must die. You are the one fated to stop my Lord, and so I have been sent to kill you.”
“Who are you? Who is your lord?” this from Xon.
“My name is unimportant. My lord is the great Namon’Shoon. As you will oppose him, you will die. I have set a set test to see if you are worthy of the death I would bring you. Seek me out in the bones. Your pet elves know it, even if they don’t admit it now. You have three months. If you fail in any of the tests I have left for you, then you will die. If you fail to seek me out in three months, your death will be worse, without honor, as you sleep. If you manage to make your way to me, you will still die, but you will die facing me, and it will be a death with honor.”

As the tirade continued, many of our heroes reach for their weapons, but suddenly the black caped figure shouts, “Bakeh emano hidat yah!” and fifteen creatures rise from the shadows of the trees themselves. Looking like nothing so much as a cross between a goblin and a pit bull, these creatures charge forward with clawed hands and sharp teeth lashing out at everything in their path, heading straight for Auhron. Turning to face this immediate threat, Falahara notices perhaps twenty more coming up from behind. A quick and bloody fight ensues. Annu has her hands full, keeping Auhron from falling beneath the horde. Falahara risks their wrath; taunting and lashing out with tongue and vine alike.

The fighting lasted less than a minute, the enemy destroyed to a “man”, and all our heroes still standing. Dante, Xon, and Auhron had come closer to death than any would like to contemplate, and yet, everyone survived. It was with this realization that they noticed that the black-cloaked man never participated in the fighting, and that he was nowhere to be seen.

Molistead arrived exactly on time. Namon’Shoon was right, as always. That they entered what is now called the Path of the Dead is impressive. The way they handled the lesser boneyard was comical. I will forever associate a wave of bones with the white cloaked human. Perhaps I will use his bleached bones and cloak to parody the image. My lord would like that, I think.

I believe they will handle my Bakamano with little trouble. There were many more than I was lead to believe. The prophecies name three: Molistead and two guardians, one spiritual one material, one a sword against the magic, one raging magic to counter swords. I am perhaps the best deathdealer in Spritha, and Namon’Shoon is my lord, but he is crazy if he thinks my best work will come from such sloppy information.

I must alter my other tests in light of these others. I have given Molistead three months to search me out. I will await him at the Bones, and should he survive, he can face me there. If not, then his death will be worthless and will find him sleeping in the night. I need destroy only one of those in the prophecy, but it is his death my master has ordered. It matters little, for I will enjoy bringing death’s hand to his entire horde.

It started about a month ago, I think. An earthquake shook our mountain home, and opened a hole beneath our crypts. Brother Durham, along with Acolytes Smetha and Toldam entered the holes to reclaim and return the bodies whose rest the earthquake surely disturbed. They discovered a cave system leading into the barrier, and were asked to investigate, which they did, (see reference to Vampire).

Two days later, a Devil-marked appeared. He wished to renounce his evil lord and rejoin the ways of light. Talengar and Dothriel met his companions, and allowed him entry. I did not expect to witness such a sight in my life. Then again, his coming here has been marked by many things I never expected in my service.

He was granted a ceremony to remove the link to his former master, even though we knew from past experience that this would provoke an attack on the monastery. If I overheard the elf, Annu, correctly, the Devil Lord Malgrim was the one who had marked him. Hehe, that rhymes, Malgrim marked him. That the Duke of Unlife was his evil lord concerned me. I have often wondered if Malgrim was in any way connected with the Greater Devil trapped by the boundary, and now I believe his is. But these thoughts were not until later. Anyway, the ceremony:

In the morning, Xon, the Devil-marked, was lead to the keystone. Powerful magics were released as the gems sent by the Dwarfs of Helmdill were crushed and incantations forced a flow of the barrier to surround Xon. Moments later, a skeletal winged bat with a large stinger burst from his shoulder. Rather, a tendril of energy from the barrier pulled the creature out, separating it from Xon. Xon defeated it in single combat, breaking his link to his former lord, but opening one to this place. Through it, the Duke would have a one time chance to send minions here to collect Xon and wreak whatever damage they could before their mission was accomplished.

It was five days after the ceremony that the minions arrived. It was five days after the ceremony that the undead arose. The minions, if what I was told is correct, appear to have been soulsniffers. A lesser devil, but the Duke used their lower power to send two through the rift, whereas others had sent much more powerful entities. These creatures would have been as nothing, if it had not been for the undead rising to break the barrier. Our forces were deployed to stop the “invasion”, and my dear brother Thalin was nearly lost to the rotting claws of ghouls. I thank Kelemvor for Ravensong, who saved him while bringing our fallen warriors out from beneath the barrier.

Xon and the rest of his friends had stayed within the monastery, and so were not with us as we dealt with the first wave. This is as it should be, for protecting the boundary is our concern. It was lucky as well, since the clerics strengthening the boundary would have been defenseless against the soulsniffers. That is a harvest I am more than happy was never reaped.

The undead, mostly ghouls led by ghasts, had already breached the top of the stairs by the time the gong had called us. It was a close thing pushing them back. I am surprised only two brothers fell. Both were saved thanks to Ravensong’s quick actions.

Ravensong says her friends were fighting Lemures and two Soulsniffers (at least, this is what I suspect they were based on her brief descriptions) while we were fighting, and that there was little that they could do to help. By the time they did join us, we had contained the undead in the stairwell, and while we could not push them back, they could not advance and bring their unspeakable numbers to bear. That is about when I saw the monstrosity.

There are boneyards within the boundary. Nothing lives there, at least not for long. People sometimes try and use it as a pass. When they fail, when they die, they are reanimated by the negative energy washing off the Greater Devil. Over the centuries, their corpses rot, and they are nothing but shambling skeletons. As often as not, they collapse amongst other skeletons. Perhaps this is by design, perhaps not. The monstrosity approaching us seemed to be an entire boneyard animated as one walking mass of evil.

We brought to bear our best weapons, enchanted via wands long kept against just such a threat. When it came in range, we peppered it with blessed arrows while Fethe blasted it with holy fire and Xon literally rained holy waters from above. That no one was lost is a testament to the preparation of generations before, and the shear number of arrows we could send at this creature.

If only that had been the end of it…

The day after the ceremony to free Xon, three of his companions were kind enough to accompany my brother and I on our first mission for our temple. We had been asked to find Brother Durham. He, along with two Acolytes, had descended into a cave system beneath our monastery, and had failed to report. The standard divinations were being blocked, and so Talengar decided that someone should be sent to investigate.

Descending into the cave system below was easy enough. Just beyond the barrier, we were set upon by ghouls. The negative energy in the barrier had reanimated the bodies that the earthquake stole from the crypt. I discovered that not everything is dead beyond the barrier, for we discovered both stirges and a large amount of fungus. Beneath the fungus, we found the bodies of our fellow acolytes, drained of blood. Bellum, the dwarf who had accompanied Xon, indicated that the far corner of that chamber looked as if it were a caved in passageway. Perhaps that is where the stirges, fungus, and orcs originated.

We found Brother Durham after a furious battle with some Orcs. They had waited in ambush for us, but it didn’t help. Thalin laid many low, and after we crossed the chasm, we discovered Brother Durham. That is, we discovered what was left of him. He seemed in bad shape. He had been bound and gagged, but I suspect now, that it was his own doing. As we recrossed the chasm, he attempted to hurl Annu into it, but was stopped by Dante, the Asimirian monk.

Once Durham revealed his true colors by draining a portion of Dante’s life with a touch, Thalin and I knew that we must destroy the abomination that our brother had become. Calling on the holy energies that bind the death and destruction of the Greater Devil, I banished the vampire, and he retreated at the sight of my faith. Dante’s hands burst into flame as he pummeled the fleeing creature, and it was mere moments before Brother Durham left this plane for a second time. We gathered some treasure that the orcs, or Durham, had stored in the back of the cave, and returned to the surface to report what we had found and done. Thalin and I took a fifth of the treasure to donate to the monastery, agreeing that those that helped us were more than welcome to keep the rest.

The day after the undead assaulted the monastery, all of Xon’s companions reentered the caves below the monastery to search out the evil that had corrupted Durham. They returned with a body, a spellbook, four shields, and four longswords. The body quickly evaporated in the light of day.

The next day they told me.

When I asked for the monk's help, they told me that I would have to accept a geas as payment. I thought little about it, as I had more pressing matters at the time.

In any case, I was told a rather long and boring story which doesn't really matter here.

Oh fine. It had something about some devil lord being trapped here on this plane, specifically in the Paths of the Dead. He had something to do with the Paths of the Dead being the way it was.

The point of that was his prison appeared again on this plane approximately every 1,000 years. Of course, this 1,000 years happened on that day.

So I was asked to try to destroy the prison, hopefully destroying the devil lord in the process.

Ha.

In any case, I agreed. What choice did I have? Travelling to the spot took nearly a week. A week where the Paths of the Dead were strangely silent. No undead in sight.

The 'prison' was a temple. We entered and proceeded to lay waste to the place.

There were many glorious battles versus the undead. I won't go into the details of the hordes of undead I slew. After all, I must maintain my modesty, no?

The last battle is what was important, anyway.

The final battle in the Prison was a strange form of undead. Well, all undead are strange to me. I certainly am no expert on the subject. It was wielding a black longsword and took quite a long time before it was finally slain for good.

After the creature died, the exit collapsed. We found a scroll shortly thereafter.

Apparently, there was some creature that wanted Molistead dead. Dead enough to seal him along with the rest of us in a temple underground buried under tons of rock.

I did manage to find a way out. Every one of us had to touch a different wall in the room while speaking a word. "Honor."

By doing this, each of us were teleported elsewhere.

On the bright side, I was no longer trapped in a prison.

However, when I could see again, I discovered that the majority of my friends were missing.

The design of whoever set the trap, I'm sure.

It would be quite some time before I saw them again.

slow pass the dwarven nights. as my writing skills be as unused as my dancing both have long since faded. since recently i got this mummy's hand i decided to keep up a journal of sorts so's my kin could find out my heroics. i'll start from the begining.

One night me and bragga tahun a dwarven fighter 20 years longer in the beard then me got to killin' one of them black dragons. it got me a good weapon outta the deal. later i found this guy who showed me some dwarfs who was in trouble. i ran through some fire and fell out in front of a mottely crew.

a bunch of elves and humans... not a dwarf among 'em, so short we talked before i went to help my bretheren. them guys chose to come along as they were headed that way. we killed of a good score of spiders and returned to the dwarven city. long it's been since i layed my good eye on a city. the long and the short of it i signed up to kill me another dragon.

moving along i aint killed the dammed thing yet, every time i turn around somebody needs to go somewhere else. i've shed a good deal of blood with this assortment of heroes, or so they get called. some of that blood was me own sadly... if notghing else it'll be a good crew fer dragon slayin'.

a little 'bout these travellers i'm with. i don't think they've ever been around a dwarf much, as many of my normal practices seem to sicken or scare them. things like goblin feet shoes to fool our enemies, or a souvineer necklace of of ears of the things i killed. such treasures are revered among us warrior types. them guys warmed up to me a bit once i got back up to my usual fightin' self. still i think there's a reason i wind up waking up farther away from the party then when i fell asleep.

well that'll be enough for now. my minds gone blank and i aint one to ramble on about all my kills. that would take too long anyway.

This is a test post of sorts, since I am seeing how everything is working and whether or not the styles are working properly. I have a feeling that there is a little CSS work yet to do. I also have the feeling that I am going to have to surround the whole page in a table to get the page top, bottom and content to line up properly...

I am a little confused.

Sometimes I seem to remember some other time of hunting dragons, of struggles against the sacrilegious unnatural and journeys to towns and other strange places. Perhaps it was the last time my body was born from the Mother. But still it taints every time I set a foot forward; it feels like an echo, and I can feel past times my body moved forward or back, as if I exist at all times simultaneously, and I am not living, but in a trance... I cannot tell, but something about this feels wrong. It is right to feel the influence of your foresires and foredames. That is bloodlines, the right flow of the natural world. But when can any creature feel his past spirit's memories? ... This feels like an omen...

Kas comforts me constantly, hugging against my body. His day-to-day actions are a simple magick that speechlessly returns me to the real state of things: that I live, and struggle, and one day will return to the soil from which I came. This is eating: this is drinking: this is hunting and traveling: this is thinking: this is sleeping: this is existence, which I come to, and leave, in harmony with the right way of things.

But when I see Kas crawl among my newfound companions, that are so awkward and out of balance in their manner of living, I am confused again. Everything I knew as a child is thrown against this strange manner of things, where the dead walk, dragons hunt the towns where men normally hunt animals, where blood means nothing and the bonds between us are those of causes handed to us by people we do not know. It all seems as a strange dream.

What happened to the days when elves and men and dwarves were the balance of the force of nature? Now everything with a face, normally opposed, huddles together and fears the marching bands of zombies and vampires, of gods come to upset the balance with their quests for ultimate reign, and of the appearing beings not of this plane...

I am reminded of my brother. And I wonder... I wonder how he reconciles his life in the complex, graceless city with the calm and purity of the forest... I wonder how he came to like these things that I cannot fathom, these things that cause me malaise... no, these things that make me sick. I can feel the wrongness in my stomach.

I have not been among the villages for long, but already I feel how things are not... right.

Perhaps, if I cleanse the place of these unnatural things and their unnatural acts, I can come to feel at peace again...

It is strange. The more winters I see, the more I think of my mother and father so long gone, our family when we lived in happiness in the purity and hard comforts of the trees and the rock and our fellow beasts... and I long for these times that were not corrupted by complexity, and not haunted by ghosts... perhaps the nostalgia is a sign that I do not belong where I am, doing what I am doing. But perhaps it is a sign that I must use the powers of myself, my friend Kas and the Earth herself to return things to grace... to save even these newfound companions of mine from the evil and the awkwardness that afflicts everything these days.

I must find a way to our salvation. I must find a way to peace.

Today was a strange day. Today we received another reminder that there are forces at work in this world beyond what we often realize. We seem to have added another member to our party. She had this letter for me.

Falahara,
You probably do not know of me but we have a common friend, Master Radashan of the Emerald Enclave. I too am one of that august body, and I write this message with three purposes. The first is to inform you of a vision Radashan had. I am just one of many who received his warnings, and though it will be of no aid to you, I will fulfill my duty by passing on his warning. The warning from his dream is this: ?Beware the road north. Before choices must be made, blood will spring black from the forest unseen.? Not very useful, and in fact, this message did not reach me in time to be of aid to you. According to the auguries I have performed, you have already been ambushed and survived. The auguries also inform me that the monks of Kelemvor will send you against Kithensh the White.

This is the second reason that I write to you. Kithensh is known to us, because while she is not a member of the Blood, she is an ally of it. There are few amoung the Black Blood who have caused as much devistation over such a large range as she has. I wonder how she still feeds herself, given the desolation of the natural order she has caused. But that is another matter. I write to warn you that she too hunts you. The members of the Black Blood do not always work together (in fact, there is continuous struggling for dominance within that order). There are at least two factions hunting one you guard, or perhaps something he gaurds, and she leads one of them. Be wary, for I am sure she knows you come for her and she will be waiting.

The last reason for this letter is to introduce you to the messenger. She is Boudicea, and you will need her assistance to deal with Kithensh. She is not a member of the Emerald Enclave, but she is a follower of Obad-Hai, and it is her duty to face the dragon, to seek vengeance for the lands Kithensh has destroyed. Also, as I was unable to determine if the blood of the lycanthrope has infected any of your party, I suggest that at the time of the next full moon, you find a way to individually bind and secure each member that was present, and allow Boudicea to observe. I doubt she would have the power to remove such a curse, but it would be better not to allow the blood to flow freely.

Taliesin