Rise of the Obsidian Legion: Entry 25

Lynch’s Journal #140

The Champion of the Raven Queen was surprised we knew so much about him. He was caught off guard that we knew of the Shadow Guard and their former alliance with the Sunbreakers. What shocked the elf most was the fact we knew that it came to be after Cindermaw’s brother, Thordax, had killed his mother.

The question is why would the dragon kill this elf’s mother?

And as expected, he knew us as well. Most likely from Lamoram, the dark elf leader of the Shadow Guard, a hidden faction in Mirabar who protects the northern realms from within the dark. Vax has heard of our tales against The Restless Hand, The Bringers of Woe and are actions during the Siege of Icewall.

But what he was most impressed with was the death of Nathanos. There was a bit of jealously in his voice when Vax mentioned he had been after the lich for years. It struck me odd that the elf would know of it seeing how I had destroyed the Sunbreaker in the safety of his own castle that was not only magically sealed from intruders but also from those with prying eyes. Before I can ask how the Shadow Guard how he knew, the Raven Queen’s champion gave me my answer.

He said that the death had righted the unbalance of the lich’s undead existence. With that, his goddess had claimed a valuable soul.

Then Vax unknowing tells us the pieces of Nathanos’ story we were missing. The mage’s arcane energy had exploded due to Orcus. Using the Sunbreaker as a conduit, the demon lord has unleashed his necromancy upon the North. With the energy, the fiend had raised all the dead in the land and brought forth his own champion in this divine conflict over death.

Brask.

Seeing the concerned looks upon our faces, the Raven Queen’s champion nonchalantly admits none of Icewall’s siege is the lich’s fault. Regardlesss if it was or not, Vax flatly states it was past his time in their plane of existence. With finality, the elf states that Nathanos nor anyone else should deny their passing to his goddess by mocking her with undeath.

Now I am starting to see the connections to everything since finding Slukx’s makeshift lab at Lance Rock. Since Prince Amon has brought us four together and defeated Vecna’s forces, Orcus was making his move against the Raven Queen. Just to see if Vax has any useful information that may tie this to recent assault on Icewall being connection, I inform him about the bodies of our fallen being taken.

It is no surprise that he does. Vax says that it must not be an isolated incident because it happened over a tenday ago in a small town between Waterdeep and Mirabar. The place goes by the name of Red Larch.

Fear strikes me with those words. My thoughts are flooded with images from Amon’s tale of Henry’s taking. I can hear the screams of the townsfolk as the large birds bombard my home. I can feel the heat of the building burning.

Balasar and myself had been baited and fooled from Red Larch, leaving it defenseless.

And all I can think about is that the death of Amara and Jalina is on my hands.

Rise of the Obsidian Legion: Entry 24

Lynch’s Journal #139

Needing much rest, Amon decides it is best to barricade himself in one of the homes with magic as we search Diamond Lagoon for survivors. It proves to be a quiet investigation. Though we look for survivors it is the last thing in our minds. The sword Prince Frost wields is a major issue among us, most heavily on Lithia. What is he does not return next time?

What if he is not there when we return for him?!

Amon assured us it would all be fine, informing us that the blade is sentient and promised to protect him. The fact that the weapon thinks for itself is a whole other frightening issue. My friend has been prone to be easily persuaded by power in the past. I cannot help but feel it is no different here. As usual, it will be up to me to confront him about it.

His experience in this crimson realm of demons does not help the still and eerie feeling of the lagoon as I row to the lone island. Though there were no signs of a boat in the water, Balasar points out how defensible it could be with means of escaping that would slow down the freak we had just battled. The paladin thought it was best we check it out before moving on from the town.

After casting a magical alarm on our boats, I move to the backdoor of the small bungalow as the copperborn leads Lithia through the front. Once inside there is no sign of struggle, not even a dead body as we enter. Balasar leads into the darkness, slowly opening the first door to look inside. He does not even see the movement slipping between rooms ahead of him.

Giving the sign to warn Princess Frost to stay back, I creep ahead to the room on the left. There in the corner, using a wall to hold himself up in somewhat of a defensive stance with a dagger, is a battered elf. I sheath Thoughts at the sight of his busted leg. Looking him in the eye I tell him that everything is alright, that we had killed the murderer and were here to help him.

His shoulders slump as his dagger clatters to the floor.

Sheathing Prayer, I cautiously approach to show him no threats. Once the fellow does not show signal to halt, I pull some of the dirt from the forest that surrounds Red Larch and rub in on the wound. Whispering the words of nature’s power, the magic infuses the patch and heals the wound enough for him to walk on. The elf thanks me with a sigh of relief from the pain.

I called out for Balasar and Lithia, who he greets with thanks as well but wastes no time in asking how we killed the abomination. Reaching up to rub my sore neck in remembrance, I reply that it was not easily. With a chuckle Lithia chimes in, making a joke about how I just leaped in without regard for my well being.

The smirk on the battered elf is a sign of needed trust. As I offer my hand to help him up, that trust is solidified as he gives us his name.

Vax.

My questioning look to both the paladin and sorcerer is met with the same curious expression. Balasar does not hesitate to reveal that we have heard of this elf, finishing his first name by giving is last, Ildon. He even goes so far to tell Vax that we know he is part of the Shadow Guard.

All the surprised elf can do is stare at him in disbelief.

Rise of the Obsidian Legion: Entry 23

Lynch’s Journal #138

As I come to, Lithia has discovered much about the creature. For one, it is not Tuskgutter. Much like the orc abomination we battled at the Bringers of Woe compound, this thing is stitched together with human parts. A clear sign that Doctor Slukx still created it.

Both the brute and the burlap sack radiate necromancy, tying it to the power of death. The magic of the sack gives off a fear affect which Princess Frost believes caused the folk of Diamond Lagoon to flee from it instead of defending themselves. What was odd is the lake itself is tainted by the magic. Surely Slukx could not be the cause of all this.

Then Balasar rolls over the corpse to point out the brand on the upper back. It is comprised of a skull and rod. I recall seeing it in the books I studied in the Nathanos’ library. The thought of it fills me with dread.

Orcus.

It seems the Demon Prince is finally playing his hand in this divine war.

Fearing the waters could bring the undead abomination back to life, I take the sack and toss it with the blade far into the snowy rocks at the base of the mountains to be lost. If anyone in the future would find Diamond Lagoon I can only hope they would never come across it. For reassurance, I decapitate the head and burn the body.

As we watch it burn the flames dance and stretch in shades of green. The smell is beyond awful. It is if I can feel the evil and undeath leave the body to merge back into the lagoon.

Amon is the first to speak up about what we had just discovered but does not get the chance. As soon as the first word leave his lips the prince vanishes with the sound of a soft pop. The look of shock and fear on Lithia’s face tells me that the prince did not disappear with his or her own magic.

Now that fear strikes myself. I have seen this before, I was even a victim of such magic. In Prince’s Frost own castle in Icewall as we battle Vecna’s chosen. Corrupted by the gibberish, Novak had teleported me through the realms of those he drew power from.

With each one encountered, I experienced true terror and madness before my life would end. With each death the cycle would repeat and I would live again only to die once more. Though time elapsed in mere seconds on my world, the nightmares lasted for hours with each realm explored.

The experience left me cursed with the yellow sign.

And as quick as he disappeared, Amon returns with the magical sword Lithia had took from Nathanos. Exhausted beyond belief, the blade falls from his hand as he collapses to his hands and knees to the snow. Unlike my own experience, Prince Frost’s was obviously different.

He and sword are covered in blood.

Rise of the Obsidian Legion: Entry 22

Lynch’s Journal #137

I patiently wait for Tuskgutter as he marches forward. The brute has made it painfully obvious it is far stronger than any of us so I will have to rely on my agility when he strikes. There is no technique in the overhead chop of his shortsword, allowing me to quick step to the side and rapidly stab Prayers into the ribcage.

Once.

Twice.

The radiant energy sends jolts of agony into his body but the abomination fights through the pain. With frightening speed, he slams me back down into the snow with a clubbing blow. Before I can even get to my knees, Tuskgutter is on me with his blade raised high for the killing blow.

As he swings I cannot help but feel this is the end. This thing is too strong, too fast, impossible to kill. It is almost as if it was designed to destroy us.

And I instantly feel guilty about such thoughts as Amon intercepts the attack with his shield. With all his strength Tuskgutter bears down, driving Prince Frost to his knees. The look on his face says he is not going to hold on for much longer.

I quickly get up to help him but Lithia beats me to it. Her bolt of fire stikes the burlap sack over the brute’s face with enough force to stagger it. Taking advantage of the sneak attack, her husband pushes Tuskgutter away with his shield. As it staggers backwards, Amon takes a defensive position as I move to his left.

Catching its balance, the anger in its eyes still focuses on me. With each heave of a deep breath hatred builds within Tuskgutter but not a word is spoken. He means to kill me first.

His one step forward his halted as a large blade cuts down in front of him, cleanly cutting off the hand gripping the shortsword. Before it can register Balasar’s next attack, the paladin buries his greatsword into Tuskgutter’s side. Roaring in defiance, the copperborn pushes the weapon through to the spine.

And again, within wisps of fog, Tuskgutter vanishes.

But I know his trick this time.

I yell for the prince to move to his right and for his wife incinerate the area with fireball. Knowing he will teleport behind me, I go into a forward roll to avoid any damage from Lithia’s spell.

It is the perfect trap.

Rolling up to my feet I find Tuskgutter materializing directly in front of me, his hand reaching out for my throat.

Squeezing the life out of me, he lifts my feet out of the snow. Both Thoughts and Prayers drop from my hands as I struggle to break his grip. Already weak from fighting the bastard, I desperately try to breath.

Lithia blasts Tuskgutter in the head with another bolt of fire.

And his grip remains strong.

The abomination’s eyes are wide with hate as it stares at me. I can feel the anger radiating from him. With just the strength of his one hand my head feels like it is going to burst.

Amon summons an orb of corrosive acid, burning it between Tuskgutter’s shoulders.

And his grip still remains strong.

The burlap sack over its head becomes lost in the blur of white and red. I can feel my body becoming as cold as the snow around us.

Then all of a sudden his grip loosens and I can breath again. The brute tumbles backwards as I hit the ground. The rush of air into my lungs burns like taking a shot at The Last Tavern.

Reaching for Prayers I see the severed arm of Tuskgutter. The fingers still flex as if trying to grab my hand.

Taking up the shortsword, I roar as a leap to take him down. Roaring again, I bury the blade into his forehead. Quickly pulling the sword out, I bury it into his heart with another roar.

Tuskgutter’s body becomes still.

Letting the raging orc blood in my veins take over, I repeatedly stab and roar.

Stab and roar.

Until I pass out.

Rise of the Obsidian Legion: Entry 21

Lynch’s Journal #136

This is exactly what it felt like when Lithia‘s magic went out of control and caused me to fly. The only difference is I am moving at a much faster speed. Recalling what it took to manage my bearings, I position myself to crash into Tuskgutter shoulder first.

The pain of doing so is worse than I imagined. It is like slamming into a thick tree. With as stout as the brute is, a part of me did not think I would knock it to the snow. Regardless of the damage done it gets up without hesitation, as if the abomination never felt a thing.

Great.

Before it can hack into me with his shortsword, Balasar is there to keep Tuskgutter down. With roar to Trithereon, the paladin’s blade shines like the sun as it comes crashing down across the fiend’s back. The light sears the thing’s skin as it is forced back into the snow.

I gather myself just in time to see Princess Frost summon a bolt of fire to crash into the abomination’s ribs as it gets to its knees. Seeing how durable Tuskgutter is, Amon takes a defensive stand between us and his wife. Summoning his own magic, the prince cast a spell of protection on himself.

Crawling to my own knees, the blades of Nathanos and I go to work. Thoughts gets thrusted into the gut, sending psychic energy through Tuskgutter’s body. It shows no signs of pain from the attack, not even a grunt as I pull the sword out.

Being the faster to my feet, I stab Prayers into the abomination’s back. To my surprise the radiant power of the blade causes Tuskgutter to tremble in pain. Wasting no time, I quickly pull the sword out to jab him again and again. Tuskgutter violently looks my way as I do as it quickly fades away into wisps of fog.

That cannot be right. The look of shock on Balasar’s face proves it. The fog begins to creep over my shoulders.

Tuskgutter is a godsdamned teleporter.

The tip of the sword bites into my flesh as my armor barely holds up against the sneak attack. Before I can react a heavy blow knocks me forward to the feet of the copperborn. As I pull myself up to wipe the snow from my face the abomination marches forward.

With another roar to his god of retribution, the paladin charges to meet Tuskgutter head on. Vowing to slay him, Balasar’s weapon glows bright with the radiance of holy power as he runs it through our enemy. Just like with the energy of Prayers, its body is racked with pain from the attack.

Staring hate in my direction, the abomination backhands my brother in arms. Its strength is so great that the copperborn is launched a dozen feet away. Without hesitation, Tuskgutter pulls the greatsword from his chest and casually tosses the weapon aside to continue the march toward me.

Great. I have definitely got the brute’s attention with the spell. If I survive this Nataku is definitely going to regret teaching it to me.

Rise of the Obsidian Legion: Entry 20

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.

Rise of the Obsidian Legion: Entry 19

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.

Rise of the Obsidian Legion: Entry 18

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.

Rise of the Obsidian Legion: Entry 17

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.

Rise of the Obsidian Legion: Entry 16

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.

Rise of the Obsidian Legion: Entry 15

Lynch’s Journal #130

It is taking the much larger Balasar all he has just to hold back Amon. Prince Frost’s anger is unbelievable and rightfully so. It has been over a year since The Restless Hand’s siege of his kingdom of Icewall and he has just found out the source of where most of Novak’s undead forces came from.

The questions is why did it happen?

Nathanos is a Sunbreaker, loyal to serving justice. He is someone Lothric places his trust in much like myself. If he has gone the way of the First Breaker then why summon us here? Why ask me to destroy him?

As if reading my mind the prince screams at the lich, demanding to know why he would raise the dead to attack his home. That his grandfather believed him to be righteous and an ally to Icewall. He calls him out on his oath as a Sunbreaker to protect and serve the people of these lands as a reminder to him that he failed.

Sitting in his throne of rot and decay, Nathanos hangs his head. As he does bits of his flaking skull and mold fall, mimicking tears of regret. He attempts to apologize to my friend, telling him that he cannot help but be flawed and that it was his mistake that lead to the tragedy that befell his kingdom. Then he hits Amon with the hardest fact about all of this.

The lich reminds Prince Frost that the unfortunate accident was no different than when the he accepted the First Breaker’s promise of power to protect Icewall. A mistake that lead to his fall from the Sunbreakers. A mistake that helped lead to the siege of Icewall before the dead rose in the North.

Amon slumps in Balasar’s strong arms, crumbling under the heavy weight of the truth. While under the First Breaker’s influence our friend had done well to hide his intentions from Balasar and myself. When Lithia found out and tried to break the mark placed on her lover, she, too, lied to protect the prince.

I tell Nathanos that is enough, that he has nothing to prove by reminding Amon about the past. The prince has done nothing but redeem himself since. I turn the question against the mage, asking why could he not do the same? Why could he, with all his arcane power, not control the undead?

Continuing to gaze down to the growth of fungus around his throne, he states that his power over the dead grew out of control after his power left him. Motioning to what tomes remain untouched in the room, the curse afflicted upon himself unable him to search for a method to halt them. Any book he touched became useless. What little magic within him would only allow him to scry on the battle for Icewall.

Again, Nathanos reminds me that these are the reasons he summoned me. To put an end to his damnation. He gestures to a small, metal box inscribed with runes upon a shelf near the Sunbreaker staff. The lich claims that destroying the crystal within is the only way to completely destroy his essence.

Retrieving it along with the wooden staff, I ask where is Lothric. The lich admits our mutual friend had came to him seeking aid before heading Northwest. The sheriff believed Brask had fortified an abandoned prison and was in need of old maps of the area. Having no further use of it, he ask us to take it along with anything we made need in our journey to find the last Sunbreaker.

Looking to Princess Lithia, she gives me a knowing nod, taking Balasar and her visibly upset husband with her to gather anything of use.

As they do I open the small box. The brightness within escapes to wash over the red glow of the Sunbreaker gem and myself. Shielding my eyes, it reminds me of dawn creeping over the horizon. I am caught off guard by its soothing warmth. It is almost hypnotic.

But this is not a time for relaxation. There is no peace here, only darkness.

Knowing this light will rid this world of this cursed plague, I slowly close the door.

Rise of the Obsidian Legion: Entry 14

Lynch’s Journal #129

We are all shocked at what has just happened. The old dusty tome Lithia had thrown was covered in rot before it landed at the feet of Nathanos.

He speaks softly, sounding more disappointed in himself that at the book. The bright green of its eyes dies down as Nathanos tells us that everything he has done to gain knowledge accidentally left him in this state. If he was to leave his reading room everything the lich came across would be destroyed.

Regaining its composure, the Sunbreaker informs me that if Lothric trusted me with the key that he trust that I will show him mercy and end his life. His tone of voice gives away his desperation, it is as if he is begging.

There is no doubt in any of our minds that Nathanos is right. It is obvious he is the focal point of this rot. But before the others or I can do so we need answers. Lithia is quick to ask first, being curious to how the mage ended up in this situation.

A few moments of silent pass before he answers, a clear sign he is a bit aggravated at the question. Nathanos informs us that all the power he had amassed over his undead lifetime had exploded. The lich is clueless as to how it happen nor does it know of the area affected by it. Guilt is thick in his cracking voice as the undead admits he wishes to destroy himself over the mishap and its aftermath but cannot until his own gem is returned to Cindermaw, master of the Sunbreakers.

Satisfied with the answer, Princess Frost goes to ask another question but Nathanos quickly cuts her off. His gaze focuses on Amon as the green flares up in his eyes, admitting he is the reason for the undead plague that brought ruin to Icewall.

The prince quickly goes for his axe but is held firm by Balasar. Tears well up in his eyes. He screams at Nathanos that he destroyed his kingdom, that if he wished to meet his end then he would gladly bring it.

I nod my thanks to the paladin. The copperborn was quick to realize the lich was goading our friend to giving him his wish. My mouth goes dry at the fact that we have to hold the prince back. He deserves justice. As much as I want to let Amon kill Nathanos we need more answers.

We need to find Lothric. And if Nathanos summoned me here then he had to be the last to see the sheriff. The lich has to know where my friend went.

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.

Nathanos.

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.

Rise of the Obsidian Legion : Entry 12

Lynch’s Journal

Entry #127

Since leaving Icewall I have thought back many times to my conversation with Kribik, the orc watching me in the armory and father of Ozruk. He had confirmed all of our fears during the celebration of Balasar and myself’s arrival.

The northern tribes were not only at war with one another but were being hunted by Tuskgutter as well. As they began to catch on, all the chieftains tried to call for an alliance but it was too late. What remained of his tribe and nearby others had banded together, fleeing to Icewall.

Luckily for them the atmosphere had changed there after the attempted siege by Novak and the First Breaker.

It does ease the worry knowing that Tuskgutter is in the North instead of around Red Larch. Amara’s safety is one less burden on my mind. Regardless of what these orc tribes morals were, I hate that my relief comes at the cost of their lives.

It is as if all these events over the past ten days were meant to lead me down the path I stare at now. At the base of the Spine of the World the key had brought me to one hidden by powerful magics. None of the others, including Lithia with all of her arcane might, could not see past the illusion.

A benefit of having Lothric’s frigid key.

Staring at it, my mind takes me back to Red Larch and the strange, red mist that covered the surrounding area of my adopted home. The whole illusion was to distract us Heroes of Red Larch from the First Breaker summoning it’s demon army. Luck helped us break free of the magic then. I can only hope Tymore favors us again this day with the lich.

Hours down the path a mountain range looms. The slight pulse from the key grows with each strep closer.

At the base we find a lone wooden door being watched by two windows high above. It is hard to make out who or what watches us from them but it is obvious they have bows drawn. I call up to them, informing them that Nathanos had summoned us. For proof of my claim I display Lothric’s key for all to see.

No answer.

There is no lock on the door for the frigid thing either.

The key’s rapid pulse never slows.

A low growl from Balasar speaks for everyone’s annoyance. Lithia answers him with a small, frustrated whine. Prince Amon answers my questioning look with a clueless shrug.

Resting my head in my hand, I close my eyes while rubbing my temples. It cannot be this easy can it?

Slowly pulling open the door, I am greeted by the stench of death.

Rise of the Obsidian Legion: Entry 11

Lynch’s Journal

Entry #126

On Prince Frost’s command every citizen within Icewall moves from the outer walls and into the center to be closer to the keep. They are to cease work on any reconstruction and begin assembling defenses and armaments to aid in any attempt of a future assault. The most important of his orders is that all children, including those among the refugees, continue with their learning and studies.

Despite his slip up with the king earlier, my friend continues to impress me as the future ruler of the kingdom.

Those among my kin who can wield steel are sent to the armory to aid in Icewall’s defense. I tag along to help with communicating in the orcish tongue. Among them is young orc no older than myself when forced into The Restless Hand testing the feel and weight of the swords. A small scar marks his cheek as do many on his hands. It seems his tribe had begun training him for battle at a young age. I approach the lad and ask him his name.

Ozruk.

I pull the old cutlass from its sheath, holding it out before me and admiring the blade. There are many memories I can see in the reflection. Each knick on the edge is a reminder for each time I have fought for my life or to save a friend. Resting the flat of the blade in my other hand, I motion for Ozruk to take it.

He hesitates, questioning my motives.

In our kin’s tongue I inform the young orc that the sword has slayed many enemies of this kingdom. Urging him to take it, I remind Ozruk that this is his home now and he needs to protect his people. With understanding beyond his youth, he slowly takes the blade and longingly stares at it as I had just done.

As he swings the blade to adjust to its size I give him a word of advice given to me by Lothric. It is not the power of the weapon that matters. It is the skill and knowledge of the warrior who is wielding it.

Out of the corner of my eye an orc who dwarfs me in size watches on as I teach Ozruk a few moves with the cutlass. With each practice stroke of the weapon there is a nod of approval.

As long as these refugees are in the care of Icewall, I promise that they will never end up like those butchered by Novak or Slukx.