Rise of the Obsidian Legion: Entry 5

Lynch’s Journal

Entry #120

I am lost in my thoughts. The anger at what Balasar and myself have discovered weighs heavily on my shoulders. The distraction is so great it takes the sharp pain of piercing cold in my hip to bring my attention to the pulsing with my pouch. As soon as my fingers touch Lothric’s key something reaches into my mind.

The anger subsides to fear as my memories race back to every time Novak had done this to me. I fight back, willing myself to block out the intrusion. A shimmer of an illusion begins to form. Then I see it, a glowing red gem.

A Sun Breaker.

They are heavily cloaked, sitting in an old throne covered in mold and fungus as if they are deep within a ancient forest. Its voice is dry and cracked as if they have not spoken in over a century. Whoever this is warns me that Lothic is in grave danger. That I am to gather allies and head to Icewall to begin a search.

As they lean forward I can see within the darkness of their hood as tiny, green orbs begin to glow, revealing the skeletal face of an orc. Thin, dead skin hides parts of its face. Unlike myself the tusk are larger and worn. A small fracture marks the front of its skull.

A godsdamned lich.

The undead tells me to follow the key home.

Why should I trust him after Novak and Prince Amon’s experiences with Cindermaw’s gems of powers? Despite Lothric’s affiliation with the dragon, my trust in him is due to the bond we developed over The Restless Hand. But it knows I have no choice. I have to have faith that this is my friend’s doing.

Willing myself to speak through the magic, I ask of if it knows of this Tuskgutter and Doctor Slukx. It leans back in its decrepit throne, revealing what I assume is a smirk.

The Sun Breaker informs me that they are both involved in the larger scheme of things. To hunt them down is to learn of the truth of why The Restless Hand was created. It assured me all will be revealed in time.

Growling at this undead mage, the image of the magic slowly fades away as does the light from its eyes and that of the glowing gem in its staff. As it does something violent shakes me. Instinctively grabbing for Novak’s shortsword, a firm grip stops me.

Rapidly blinking me eyes as the magic ceases, Balasar warns me not to do so. The paladin knows something important has just occurred. With a deep breath I tell him what I had experienced.

With more to worry on our minds we pick up the pace to Red Larch.

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