Lynch’s Journal #135

Rushing to the bungalows I feel it in my gut that Tuskgutter is here. By the looks of the trail he is moving at a slow pace through Diamond Lagoon. What concerns me is there is no sign of Slukx with him. Maybe he went to the other side of the lake?

Caught up in the chaos of the slaughter Balasar and I had found causes me to lose focus. Something solid trips my feet under the snow, planting me face first in the cold. Pushing myself up I notice small specks of red in the drift as the copperborn rolls over the dead body of a male human.

Something sharp had been ran through the poor fellow multiple times. The heavy snow falling around us had covered up his body just enough so we could not see him. His warm blood has already melted

the snow underneath, a clear sign we are getting closer.

As we move around the next bungalow we discover the source of the broken glass. Covered in tiny cuts, a male dwarf is nailed to tree clinging on to life. A spear holds him firm in place as he struggles to free himself. Lithia yells out to him, bringing a smile of hope to his face as blood trickles into his beard. Within arms reach of healing that hope rapidly fades as the bearded fellow points ahead during his final breath.

A bow shot away something as large as Balasar marches through the heavy snow. Coveralls hide the identity and a burlap sack covers its head. It wields a bloody shortsword as it stalks up to the next home.

Tuskgutter.

As it ignores my screaming for him to stop, Princess Frost goes into summoning her arcane power. A rippling spiral of color darts forward to strike the creature.

Nothing.

The rest of us charge forward as Lithia goes into another casting. Amon slows down to protect her as she informs us there is no control the thing’s mind. Balasar’s divine sense detects the reason why the sorceress’ magic has failed but I already know. Tuskgutter is just like the abomination we had battled when looking for the Bringers of Woe. He is a walking collection of slaughtered orcs stitched together.

An undead.

With the thick snow covering the ground we will never catch him before he enters the bungalow. Prince Frost and the paladin shout warnings to whoever may be inside. Once again, Lithia draws power from the Weave by summoning fire into her hands.

Not slowing my pace, I summon the earthy magic taught to me by Nataku. My friend had used this spell many times in the woods around Red Larch to leap high into trees. The elf had shown me that with a running start the magic could launch you like a javelin. I have never done so myself but I have to stop Tuskgutter. Seeing no choice I cast and fling myself forward.

It happens fast.

Faster than I expected.

Hurtling toward the enemy, my arms and legs flail around. That bastard Nataku should have warned me of this. I swear I can hear the druid laughing.

Bringing my gifts from Nathanos to bear, I struggle to right myself on my collision course with Tuskgutter.

This is going to hurt.

Lynch’s Journal #134

The trek to the map’s first destination is uneventful. Using a technique taught to me by the elf druid Nataku, I have been communicating with the frozen landscape around me to locate any potential threats in our area. The occasional presences were nothing to be concerned about except for one, a dragon. The terrain itself is terrible and I cannot fathom battling a wyrm in it.

It took a day before I realized it was Balasar and his heritage that was being detected.

It seems luck favored us there.

Diamond Lagoon rest in a canyon between two mountain ranges. The history of it is not lost on Amon. He recalls that the place was once a bustling community when the mines ran rich with the precious gems that gave way to the name. The latter part was given when the mines had collapse and flooded some twenty years ago, creating a small lake that separated the town.

After the accident many residents packed up and left, hence the creepy silence of the place.

It seems more like dread to the rest of us. Not one person is to be seen as we approach. As the lagoon greets us I use my keen eyes to look among the buildings that spread around the shores of the lake. As I do Balasar calls upon his divine senses, finding that evil radiates from the water. The closer the paladin moves toward it, the stronger it grows. The presence makes the copperborn uneasy and sickly.

Knowing we made need him for whatever is lurking here, Balasar rests as I begin to focus, reaching into the awareness of the mountains that surround the town. Besides the copporborn only one undead is detected within the area of Diamond Lagoon. A small threat to the four of us. If anything it could be a clue to the evil of the lagoon.

Though the gift is useful, there is a drawback. I have no idea where the presences are that nature detects, turning any possible search into a guessing game. Scanning the area for any clues, Lithia picks up heavy boot prints that are covered by the freshly fallen snow heading in the direction of the bungalows on the right of the lagoon.

With her and Prince Frost following a dagger’s toss behind us, Balasar and myself cautiously follow the tracks to the first home. Before we can even step upon veranda, the sound of glass shattering echoes around the homes. Not wasting anytime, the paladin and I lead the rush to investigate.

The tracks lead toward the sound but become more frantic and spread out, the clear signs of a struggle. Following the incident to the door of the next bungalow, Balasar covers the back door with Lithia and Amon as support while I bust into the front. The mess of wet footprints leads down to the hallway where a trail of blood leads from one room to the next.

Balasar gives me the nod to move ahead to the first room. Within is a most gruesome scene, in a fresh pool of his own blood is the dead body of a male dwarf. The smooth edges of the cut across his belly tells that one swing disembowel the poor fellow. It would take something as strong as the copperborn to make one clean cut such as that.

If anything it tells me that the murder has not gotten far.

Motioning to Balasar, I move forward to follow the blood trail to the next room. Death awaits for me there as well. Pinned to the wall with a longsword are two elves. It seems the male was attempting to protect his lover from whatever impaled them. The blade is pushed all the way to the hilt into them, fastening them to the wall half a foot above the floor.

Another sign of this thing’s impressive strength.

Is this the doing of Tuskgutter? I have no doubts about it. The abomination was heading North. Diamond Lagoon is the only clear path through this area so he and Slukx were forced this way. That would make me sense of the large boot prints that lead us here. I am betting they wanted no witnesses to their passage.

Rushing out of the room and past Balasar, I tell him what was discovered. As he rushes behind me I yell out for Prince and Princess Frost to check the snow for fresh blood. It does not take long to find it hidden among the snow, heading further into the bungalows.

We waste no time following the trail to the fiend.

Lynch’s Journal #133

Our trek through the Spine of the World to our first destination is long and isolated. Scouting ahead of the others gives me plenty of time to reflect on meeting the Sunbreaker lich, Nathanos. It had proven to be a great boon in our search for Lothric.

Though the magical aid Lithia found and the lore contained in his vast library was useful, the best bit of information we found was the sheriff had left there over a ten day ago. My friend had copied the map we now have and left notes in the back of the lich’s journal about hunting Brask. Lothric believes the soldier who was once under Randle Dundragon’s command is tied to this war between the gods.

At this point I would not be surprised by it.

I have no doubts he is championing Vecna. After killing Novak for a second and final time, surely the divine lich looked to Brask to lead his war against the Raven Queen and Orcus. He knows Icewall seeing that he lived there during his life. Also, he fought alongside The Restless Hand during the siege. It makes sense Brask lead the attack and took Henry’s body days ago.

But he is a small part of our larger problem.

Revealing this war over the power of death has rattled the others. The scope of it all is beyond our imaginations. Amon seems to be affected the most . It is understandable seeing how The First Breaker almost corrupted him for Vecna’s cause. Prince Frost is still haunted by the small taste of power the god had to offer. Now knowing he could have been the champion of Vecna must make his torment worse.

On top of this there is my personal issue that is out in the open, the yellow sign. Personally, I feel some relief by telling them of the madness and horror of dying over and over again. After Amon’s own affliction, I feel ashamed. Since discovering Henry’s ties to the Restless Hand long ago, I promised to hide nothing between us four. Yet I did nothing but that with my own curse.

With the experience of the tome I fear that this could play more of a role in what is to come. I know this King in Yellow and the other entities I had witnessed are what granted Novak his powers. Are they, too, part of this war we have found ourselves in? If Brask was the true champion of Vecna from the beginning, was that bastard their own?

Since Novak’s death have they searched for a new one? Is that why the yellow sign has haunted me since that fateful day? Is that why it recently called to me?! Am I to be its champion in this divine war?!

I can only hope not. And if by some chance that is the case, my friends, those I call family, will fight for me. Side by side we defeated The Restless Hand. Our bonds to one another saved Red Larch and Icewall. Together we overcame the First Breaker’s influence on Amon. With them I broke the hysteria inflicted upon me by the tome.

If we are that strong then nothing can defeat us.

Not even the gods themselves.

Lynch’s Journal #132

I have yearned so long to bask in the beauty of the yellow sign. Slowly following its curves with my eyes, it gives me great pleasure to trace its image upon my forehead.

It is all I have ever wanted.

It means more to me than anything in this world and beyond.

Even my beloved Amara.

Amon, Lithia and Balasar look on with their twist maws signing the melodic hymns of the King. Their chorus is pleasant to my ears. Through them the yellow sign speaks to me, ushering me to the union with it that I have so desperately craved.

But something works against the bonding. A strength that matches the power of the divine. I fight against it with every fiber of my being. I am so close to become one with the sign. Nothing will stop be from being whole.

I can hear the faint screams of horror somewhere in the distance. My friends, now faithful to the sign, begin to creep around the library in search of them. The voice are familiar to me, like a lost memory within my mind. It hurts me to search for it. My precious sign feels the pain as well.

Its power grows, pushing against this unseen forcing trying to stop our holy union. The screams grow louder in retaliation, overpower the strength of my beloved. They become more distinct as they take over.

Louder and louder.

Closer and closer.

Clearer and clearer.

With the mighty roar of a dragon my faithful friends of the sign vanish. The chorus of the king fades away. A grip with the strength of a hill giant holds my arm in place. In my trembling hand a bloody dagger stares me in the face. I can feel the tickle of blood running between my eyes and down the my cheek.

Balasar holds me firm by the wrist, roaring in my face to fight whatever has bewitched me. Hearing sobbing over to my right, I look to see Prince Amon holding his wife tightly. Lithia has tears running down her face as the horror begins to leave about what I have done.

Then the sharp pain hits me. Something has scrapped against my forehead. The look on the paladin’s face says it all.

I had did so with the dagger.

The yellow sign had finally found me in this world. I was too weak to defend myself from its hold on me.

My body goes weak at the realization. As I drop to my knees the copperborn quickly grabs my armor to hold me upright. Taking measure to make sure I can do no more harm to myself, Balasar kicks the dagger away as soon as it hits the floor.

The leather tome laid open by his boot reveal empty pages. I frantically pick it up, thumbing through its pages and find nothing, not a trace of the sign remains. Hopeless washes over me knowing it is lost.

Something soft caresses my shoulder. Lithia locks my gaze, looking for an answer. Tears well in my eyes. I lose all control of my emotions for the first time since Remy’s death many years ago. There is only one thing left to do, tell them a secret that I can no longer keep.

I reveal the madness Novak struck me with during our final battle in the throne room of Icewall Castle. Every tale of my death brings a twitch to my eye. The throbbing in my head intensifies with each breath. With every word spoken I can hear the gibberish echoing in my skull.

Despite the relief of finally telling those who I consider family my tale of horror, the thought of it all promises another sleepless night.

Lynch’s Journal #131

Before his destruction, my private conversation with Nathanos started off small. Why are us mortals flawed and the mistakes we make. What lengths we will go to protect the ones we love and the ideals that we hold dear. All of it reminded me of my path from the moment I left the past behind in Waterdeep up to now.

Then the lich revealed something that shook me to my core.

Everything the heroes of Red Larch have been involved with is just a small faction of a war being waged by the gods.

Nathanos tells me that Novak was much more than just The Leader of the Restless Hand. The copperborn was the champion of Vecna, the undead god of magic and knowledge. Everything that bastard was working toward was to aid his divine master in the resurrection of Nerull.

Opposing this lich turned god is the Raven Queen, a mortal who slayed Nerull and took his power over death in Faerun. And to make it worse, Orcus, a demon prince, has spilled his own personal war against the goddess against Vecna’s own forces.

After imparting to me his knowledge of these vastly powerful entities, Nathanos warns me on who to trust in the coming days. Sides must be chosen in the war and that we could easily find ourselves on the wrong side. The Sunbreaker warns me of Vax Ildon, champion of the Raven Queen, who has been seeking to claim his soul during this war. As for Orcus, the lich is lost on who champions his cause. Both the living and the undead worship the demon so any mortal we cross could be them.

I stand there with my back against the closed door. My body locks up as it becomes hard to breath. My head spins at the revelation. I find myself trying to imagine what it is like to even witness a deity. The thought of someone so powerful is unimaginable.

I approach the others in the smaller, adjoining library to tell them the revelation of Nanthos. As Lithia begin to speak chills run up my spine. The hairs on my body stand up. Her jaw elongates to a silent scream causing her eyes to roll. From it comes a voice I have not heard in quite some time.

The whispering gibberish has returned.

It grows louder as Amon and Balasar begin to take the same transformation. Thick, slimy tentacles slither from the depths of their throats. As one, they all point to a book shelf. Everything in my vision blurs violently except for one dusty tome. It calls to me in its alien tongue.

The leather cover is colder than the snow outside as I take it from its resting place. Some unseen force opens the forgotten book and rapidly thumbs through its pages, stopping on one of pure beauty. Curiosity and pleasure wash over me as I gaze upon it. Rubbing my forehead ever so intimately, I remember how it filled the void within me.

Such is the grand power of the yellow sign.