Rise of the Obsidian Legion: Entry 13

Lynch’s Journal #128

Entering the mountain castle we find ourselves in a circular room dimly lit by small, glowing orbs floating in the air. A spiral staircase leads up. The thick dust resting on the handrail is a sign that no one has been here in quite a long time. Just past it a doorway leads into a larger room straight ahead. In the dead center rest a well full of water. Decorating the walls are expertly painted portraits of honorable men.

Upon further inspection of them there are faces that I recognize. Three are Lothric’s friends, the Sunbreakers who fell at Icewall during the siege. In the beginning of all this I found myself wanting to flee from them. In the past year I have found myself growing curious of what type of men they were since I have come to know Lothric.

Another is a tall, black half dragon with large wings who we all knew as the First Breaker. It was he who corrupted Prince Amon and his Sunbreaker gem. Along side that bastard Novak, both had tried to conquer Icewall in the name of Vecna. If not for those two, we would never be known as the Heroes of Red Larch.

Without that I would never be the person I am today.

And the last is a brutish half orc like myself. Unlike the others, he wears little armor with heavy robes. His green eyes reveal a cunning intelligence. His Sunbreaker gem rest within the entangled branches of an all too familiar wooden staff.


Lithia leads us ahead to the larger, circular room which turns out to be a grand library. The shelves hold hundreds, if not thousands, of books covered in dust much like everything else that we can see. The doors mark the only exits within, each guarded by two suits of armor wielding spears. The small beads of red glowing inside the helms mark them as animated skeletons.

Why am I not surprised after learning that this Sunbreaker was a lich?

As we step further within the room none move to harm us. It is good enough of a sign for Lithia to inspect the dusty lore on the shelves. Amon, always the protective husband, remains on guard of the undead as she does so. Balasar never takes his eyes off of guards, it is almost as if he is looking for a fight after the long days in the frigid cold.

The key pulls me toward the door straight ahead where the stench of death grows stronger. Much like the other doors there is no lock, just a simple brass handle. Red light baths me upon opening it. Instinctively, I hold my breath and look away due to the reeking smell, taking all I have not to vomit. By the looks on the faces of the others it is obvious how powerful it is.

Pulling my bandana over my nose and mouth, I turn to see Nathanos before me but he is far worse than what his spell revealed. Everything around him within a dagger’s toss is mold and rot. It is as if he is the focal point for a creeping infection spreading throughout the room. Untouched by the contagion is the wood staff, the red Sunbreaker gem nestled in the tip and lighting the room for me to see.

As I go to step inside the lich’s tiny green eyes flare to life. In a dry and cracked voice Nathanos screams a warning not to enter, that doing so would be to sentence myself to an agonizing death at the cost of his misfortune. To test his plea, the mage begs of me to take a book from his library and toss it within. Lithia, with one already in hand, flings a tome to the wretched thing.

Instantly it begins to mold and deteriorate as soon as the book enters the diseased area.

A gasp from Princess Frost is enough to say exactly what I am thinking.

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