Dear Journal, the tide of evil seems to have ebbed. There have been no more shapeless abominations to come forth from the crevice. The lake is steaming and glowing still, though it seems to have had its will sated. The mage hunters are all weary, but I am not. Ever since I first cast my eyes upon this sacred place I have been feeling it... an irresistible pressure in my head, driving in a reckless fury to kill all of these Fell Wraiths and their kind. The Legion of Berthwell is said to be on their way. But somehow I don't think that they will ever make it here. There has been a mysterious fog curling between the mountains as of late I'm told. At once my mind goes back to that night not so long ago in Dumarken... watching as that city was consumed in an evil purple smog. It is one and the same.

I have ventured to ask the mage hunters what they know of the Dark Fortress and The Blight, but most importantly, what they know about the Legion of Vaspagh. They can tell me that the Dark Fortress is Rune Mere's elder sister city. It was built a full 200 years before Rune Mere herself, and is home to one of the most powerful and secretive guild of wizards in the world. As for the Legions of Vaspagh, they have absolutely no inkling of who, what, or where Vaspagh is. The Dark Fortress's original name was apparently Ellswere Vospoh ... perhaps Vaspagh is some macabre twisting of that original name.

Maro Muero has been a living nightmare. Every day there is tell of more Fell Wraiths making their way across the chasm and into our world. None of the mage hunters here seem to know who unlocked the Dragon's Throat Door or how, but the fact remains that it is open now and horrifying beasts are traversing this very land.