I never thought that I should recover my journal, and here it is! It has been well over a month since I last laid eyes on it, and it is a sight for sore eyes. I am currently holed up in Berthwell with the Legion, while scouts are being sent out through the countryside to search for Lord Dwindlemere. If you recall, Lord Dwindlemere was the strange man who seems to have perpetrated the spread of The Blight. I discovered that I arrived in Drakksford at just the wrong time. Drakksford is now considered to be the launching point for The Blight, it had never been seen anywhere else before by anyone, and no wizard has ever even heard of an ailment of its magnitude before. It has been steadily spreading eastward towards Berthwell for the past few months now. Lord Dwindlemere as he is called has only been sighted one other time, in the northeastern province of Willterdow, in a small village of perhaps 300 people named Kinsford. There is no news of whether or not the sickness has made it to Twildenshire, though I would find it hard to believe that it hasn't already. Seeing the dramatic turns that my adventure has taken so far, I already notice how distanced I feel from home, and how more and more I feel as though the day I departed from Twildenshire is the day I died. Not literally, of course, but the day I died to my family. Certainly I never meant it to be that way, but what hope do I have of them surviving the horror of The Blight? There doesn't seem to be much I can do. Though I am very close now to home, compared to how far away I was when I was at the Crescent Lake.

But there is a woefully large amount of information to cover here in these pages. First of all, as to the matter of my journal being lost. My previous entry describes my waking from a strange dream by the Crescent Lake. After I made the entry, I shut the book and began searching the premises. It didn't take me long to discover all of the evidence of an encampent. It seemed as though the mage hunters of my dreams were real live flesh and blood, but I was wrong in this assumption. I searched for several hours, until I came upon a large mound. I realized at once that it was a mass grave. How many lay interred there, I didn't even want to speculate, but there had to have been scores.

I returned to the spot where I awoke and packed up my belongings, preparing to ride Illdra out of this place. I decided that I needed to get a move on back to Rune Mere as fast as possible to consult the wisdom of the wizards there. I had just set out when I ran headlong into the Legion of Berthwell. They had deployed a unit to investigate the dissapearance of an entire village in a far flung northern province of theirs named Darkoklan. What they found was a ghost town, no bodies, and a trail of scorched earth leading back up into the mountains to the Crescent Lake. I realized with a sickening dread as they relayed the tale to me that the mound I saw in the mountians could easily contain the bodies of those missing townspeople. But it didn't make any sense. I pass out strolling around the lake with Illdra by my side, and wake up with strange rantings in my journal, signs of a camp strewn about, and mounds of dead bodies. I realized with mouting fear that there was nobody else around for the Legion to pin anything on... nobody except for me. I threw up my hands and told the Legionnaires that I could lead them to a mound of bodies in the mountians. They were very surprised to hear this, and even more surprised when I led them to the edge of the lake and showed them the signs of recent activity. I didn't bother to explain anything about my 'dream' or about anything else that has been happening to me, it is all to surreal and no doubt they would take me for a madman, as it was, the Legion quickly got over its shock and began to grill me about everything I knew, which was nothing. They grew very angry with my inability to answer any of their questions. They also determined that a few of the bodies were from the town, while others were not. I merely hung my head in resignation. I have no way to explalin what happened. But there is one piece of information that I learned later which is intriguing, but has thus far helped me in no way at all in finding more answers.

To cut a long confusing story short, I was lead away in chains, and I whistled to Illdra, telling her to stay. They took away my journal and began the long journey back to Berthwell with me as their prisoner. They tried on numerous occasions to find out more from me, but I had nothing to give just the same. They brought me to Bertwell at the end of the third week of our long trek and I remained in prison for another two weeks until they let me out to be reexamined. Experts and wise men had gone over my journal and gone through my personal possessions a dozen times looking for more clues. They found Thyldas' medallion and questioned me about it, they found Daanli's map and questioned me about it. Again and again I was cross examined and examined again. Finally they determined that I had some kind of mental stress due to my long journey and had been halleucinating. The king's advisors apparently had been hard pressed to keep the matter under wraps, which became very difficult as the threat of The Blight increased. Today, I recieved my pardon and my journal back finally.

The one other thing which I recieved was a summons by the King himself. Needless to say, I was quite taken aback that the King of Berthwell himself had asked for me. He would have let me out a day sooner, he said, if he hadn't decided that he wanted to read my journal himself. I arrived at his private dining quarters for dinner and he ordered all of the servants to leave. Leaning in closely he whispered almost furtively "I have been having the same dreams... and they are getting worse." I thought that I detected a hint of fear in his voice. "Evil times are at hand, young Hollas. And we are not only caught in them, but also we are caught up with the ebb and flow of the dark powers which are beginning to surge around us." I didn't know what to say, I let him continue speaking. "Seven nights before you arrived, I had a dream that there was a chasm, just the same as the one mentioned in your journal. In it, I was fighting a losing battle with shapeless abominations from beyond. But, like you, I felt no fear, only a suspicion... a loathing... a sense of threat beyond what this bizarre supernatural battle was bringing me. I have had many other such dreams, and each time I have another one, I can tell that there is something different. As though I can see something beginning to manifest itself... something dark and black... an evil thicker than anything yet encountered. Something is approaching us, Hollas. Something is approaching us and I fear that we are powerless to stop it... we are being prepared for it. I have had my best mages and wizards explain to me again and again the many prophesies and legends of our day... and nothing fits. This is something either very new or very old. I can't pinpoint it... the thread that you mentioned... but I sense it too. Hollas... we are being prepared for a reason... I think that we will have a great hand in things to come... I only hope that we will be doing the work of good." He spoke at length of his fears and his thoughts on the matter. I couldn't answer his questions, I was too busy pondering the meaning of this. The scorched trail left back in the mountains from the dead town, the foul purple smog enveloping Drakksford, The Blight, the Legion of Vaspagh, Lord Dwindlemere... it all is happening. Like the King said, something evil is afoot and it is growing closer with each passing day.

Well, how was that for a story? I am growing weary from writing, I think I shall retire for the night, I will write more when I can.

Hollas Dillan, July 22nd, Twelfth Year of Enru

So as far as the cryptic writing that has been going on sporadically goes, there has been some new unspeakable evil unleashed upon this land.

Dear Journal, I have been reading, with great interest, the past few entries. This is my problem: I cannot remember ever making a single one of them. I awoke on this hill deep in the moutains by the Crescent Lake by Illdra, who has sleeping peacefully nearby. I cannot fathom what this means. All that I can remember from my dream is an orange haze and a hideous face materializing out of it. That seems to be the sum of my dreams. But opening my journal and finding so many entries, filled with tales of horror and dread... and something else that I can't quite put my finger on... but it chills my soul to the core. There seems to be some kind of thread running through the entries... but I am at a loss as to what it is. All I can think of is the last words that Sylphra spoke to me many nights ago in Rune Mere: "...I can't help shake the feeling that you are somehow flawed, that you cannot be the hero. There is no way for you to really truely adhere to the light."

That is the tone I feel from these entries. As for whether or not all of the horrible events recorded here actually just took place, I have yet to verify. But it would seem a definite certainty. The thing I can't understand is how I came to be back here, and everything seems so peaceful. No, there must be something I'm missing... there cannot be Fell Wraiths swarming the lands.



I have just seen something in the dirt. It is certainly a medallion of the Berthwell Legion. And it is not the same as the one I retrieved from Thyldas's dying body back on the outskirts of Dumarken. All it can mean is that the Berthwell Legion has been here, at least at some point... though I don't know how the Hinvannas would have stood for that, nor how the Legion would have even located the Crescent Lake. But these are questions I must seek out answers for now... and cease this wondering.

-Hollas Dillan

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.

And past the umber waves unfold
The evil flows beyond untold

Wonder fell away from my eyes
As I viewed the sea of the blind

Now I know the truth at last
Now I see my twisted path

Welcome to the valley of souls
Welcome to the nightmare that's cold

The golden glow of nothing there
The shining gleam of silver hair

Now you see with unnpeeled eyes
Now you're lungs breath one last time

I have seen the lake of mist
I alone am untouched by it

- Hollas Dillan

The good news is that my business factor is beginning to wane. The bad news is that I'm still too busy and no there will be no update of this blog today. Of course, nobody has visited since about a month ago when I decided to take my extended leave of absense from storytelling. But that's OK. I'm going to pick it up again here someday. Toodles all.