Oth's Journal

[Hoital]

4 Kythorn 1354

I figured writing things out would be good for me to get events recorded and out of my mind, so to speak. Really, I should have started doing this sooner, but better late than never, right?

It’s closing in on a year since I’ve come to the coast. I can honestly say that the past several months have been… Exciting… Different… I’m not sure how else to put it. I’ve come a long way in a short amount of time, thanks to the people I’ve met and wanting to move past what happened. Those memories of the tower and… Him do still linger, but it’s starting to feel less real and more like a bad dream with every passing day. I know I’ve not been easy to deal with at times, but I am truly thankful for my friends here.

The people I’ve met have been nothing short of captivating. All of them, really. Even the ones I’ve had less favorable interactions with have been interesting, but the ones I call friends… Ghyslain, Indigo, Nathan, Beladra, Caleth, Jadoth, Gemma, Layne, Teris, so many faces I can’t think to name them all! I think I might drive them mad at times by trying to be helpful, but I just want them to know I adore them because they’ve done more for me than they’ll likely ever know. I do hope I see Ghyslain and Indigo again. They were some of my first friends coming to the Coast. For now, I’m very thankful to see Beladra and Caleth returned. Beladra, especially for Nathan’s sake. I worried for him a great deal, but… I know he’ll be alright with her return. They deserve to be happy together and I adore them both like... Well, family, I suppose.

And there’s Dove. My lovely Dove. I don’t know which gods I must thank for her, but I would gladly do so. I’ve never known someone so patient or calm or just… Truly lovely inside and out. She makes me want to be a better self. I’m her Strange Mage, after all.

What else is there, really? Oh, I’ve started a job with the Darius Holding Company officially, though they’re restructuring to a proper house. I’ve the title of House Mage and I enjoy the people I’ve met through the Company so far.

I have come quite a way since I first set foot outside of that tower, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m starting to look ahead with excitement.

On the following page is a detailed drawing of what looks to be a very lovely little brown bat

[Hoital]

4 Kythorn 1354 – Later in the evening

Today wound up being somewhat eventful after writing the first journal entry. I got to go on an expedition into the Greypeaks with Ferrick, Lannia, and some others. Ferrick is trying, but I rather like him. Something about him reminds me of Ghyslain, but... More jovial? I’m not sure, but he’s a strange druid.

After the expedition, I was exhausted and rested for a while, only to find myself later investigating a crypt fire in the graveyard outside of the Gates with another group of people. Of course, the fire wasn’t simply just a fire, but some sort of orb that warped reality around itself to bring forth shadows to attack us. Dimitry tried to overtake it with his own will, but it vanished and we left before the crypt collapsed.

As bad as this might sound, I was both relieved and disappointed to find that orb. The man who alerted us to the incident was screaming over a little box… I suspected a phylactery, which could have been destroyed if its owner wasn’t in the process of retrieving it.

We later found a spirit sitting atop the remains playing a violin…. I’ll have to keep an eye on Teris over the next few days, speaking of which. Whatever occurred seems to have him shaken up. The spirit seemed to know him, and it was not happy.
This might seem like an unusual entry, but… I’m certain as this journal goes on, I’ll be documenting far stranger events.

The following couple of pages are sketches of a small feykin making various faces

[Hoital]

6 Kythorn 1354

Yesterday was the Darius Hol Darius House recovery expedition. Greypeaks went far more smoothly this time, but I would blame that on our numbers this time around. The last instance of me going into the Greypeaks involved a fight with the Baalor that felt like it lasted an eternity! None of us were properly prepared to fight a fiend, but it did go down eventually! Nobody really talked too much, but I suspect it had to do with the fact that we were all really focused on the task at hand.

Afterwards, there was a discussion about necromancers that I wished to avoid, so I tried to simply ignore it. I did catch pieces of it despite my best intentions, however, and was made aware that a necromancer was upset over losing their skeletal slave and vowed to hunt us all down because one of our party put the poor creature to rest. The cheek of a bastard like that! I’d have liked to see the monster try it! It would have been a mercy killing for someone like that…

Teris was worried about us setting out, as he tends to be, but I assured him and reassured him that we’d be okay. His fearfulness of setting out like I tend to has a habit of spreading over to his fear of his friends. This coupled with the incident a night prior only exacerbates that worry in him. I wonder if Dove needs to increase his medication? All I can do is keep an eye on him, though I may have to stop asking him to the Muse, considering he’s uncomfortable there. Also… I found out recently that the Darius brothers apparently have a less than pleasant history with Teris that stems from before I arrived. All I can really do at this point is really work on staying patient with him and trying to juggle my time accordingly, though I’m aware that I have my own… Problems that I’m still working on, myself.

Dealing with everything like this, however, has made me appreciate Dove’s seemingly boundless patience that much more. How does she manage all of this?

The following page has several sketches an elven woman with long hair and gown

[Hoital]

8 Kythorn 1354

So I should probably stop playing dice at the Muse for awhile. It seems that I’ve a habit of attracting people’s more… Intimate dares. Also, honied dates are possibly the most disgusting thing I’ve ever had in my mouth, and considering what has happened during dissections with Holton, that’s… Saying a lot. Thankfully, Dove doesn’t seem annoyed with me so much as concerned that I’ve been drinking as I have. But it’s nice to have fun and not… Think for a bit. I needed the down time. That said, Fingal is not the sort of drinking companion I should probably entertain, considering his outburst towards Reiker the other evening. Rather distasteful.

Beladra asked me a personal question, more of a favor, but… I’m not sure that carrying it out would be okay. I’m afraid to broach the subject with Nathan considering how he tends to assume I’m just trying to ‘fix’ him. I think I might need to just… Let this one pass. It’s between them. Granted, I do agree with Bel that the world needs more people like Nathan in it.

Teris seems to be doing better, on a lighter note! Hopefully he keeps this up… He deserves it and I do hate to see his heart and mind so burdened. It reminds me a lot of myself and… I think that tends to try my patience significantly more than it would with others. Granted, I’m still learning more about his past before I arrived and it’s becoming clear that he was part of something incredibly foul, though apparently against his will. I hope he’ll forgive himself eventually for what happened, whatever it was.

It occurs to me that my friends tend to occupy my thoughts a great deal. I suppose I don’t really like thinking about myself too much.

On the next few pages are several small figure sketches under a thin layer of fairy dust. One in particular stands out as it has been boxed in and had the background lightly shaded in. It's clear it's a sketch of a feykin playing with a shirt button.

[Hoital]

15 Kythorn 1354

I’ve neglected this a few days, certainly. In my defense, not much has really happened. I got a tad annoyed with Teris. Apparently he decided to speak on my behalf at the Muse while I had stepped out for a moment, which was later followed with an attempt to lure me away with a sending that I’m still not certain was entirely true. I can’t believe that the woman wouldn’t have agreed to meet him at the Muse or the Anchor had he asked. The bright side to this is that he seems to have worked out things with Fingal, so… Silver linings and all.

Lately, while spending time at the Halls waiting to see Dove, I’ve been speaking with some of the acolytes, notably the ones who follow Lliira and Hanali Cenali. I… It’s hard to explain, but speaking with them feels odd, but not bad odd. I haven’t really talked with anyone else about it, I’m still not really sure what it means for me. Oh gods, speaking of such things, I should be more diligent in speaking with members of the Church of Mystra! I’ve completely let that slip by… Regardless of my duties as House Mage, I do have a duty to Her as a mage, I suppose.

So much going on, and yet nothing seems to be happening. Only on the Coast, it would seem.

The following pages are covered with random sketches and scribbles of mundane objects. It looks like he was sitting in a bar as he sketched a fair portion of them, judging from the number of bottles.

[Hoital]

30 Eleint 1354

I’ve decided to pick this back up again as things are happening. Things I cannot discuss even to myself on this page… It’s sickening and frustrating and… I’m scared. Gods that be, there’s no other word for it. There’s a deep pit of fear in my gut that I can’t talk to anyone about. I just want to be done with this, but I have a feeling I’ll lose people I love dearly before this is all said and done. I don’t know what to do except pray that this isn’t as bad as I feel it might be. And the kicker to all of this is that what I’m doing may well be making things so much worse.

This is a nightmare. I’m not sure how much more of it I can take. I feel alone again. I can’t help my friends, and I can’t be helped right now. This journal is the only thing I feel I can really turn to, and even then, I tread a thin line. But I did this to myself out of fear and desperation.

It doesn't mean anything, but for anything that happens because of me, Gods, I am sorry.

There are several doodles, all little more than frantic scribbles of vague forms. It's as if attempts to draw were thwarted by an anxious hand.

[Hoital]

29 Flamerule 1355

It has been some time since I've felt the need to return to this again, but with the events happening as they have been, I... Don't really feel that I've got any other option. There are things that I absolutely cannot and, honestly, do not wish to discuss with anyone right now. I know my attitude has been worrying people and I've been trying desperately to avoid that, though... The efforts are more taxing than I can handle with... Well, everything else.
I've let a friend down, and, as a result, he's in a very bad state... And there's nothing I can do except... Hope for the best and... Try not to dwell on it. I don't blame him for not wanting my help considering that I've already failed him once by not being there when I told him I would.
I've also been... Looking into my old notes while trying to hunt down information regarding some things I've been concerned about lately. I hate that I even have these notes and I know there are a lot of people who would probably not be happy with me if they realized what I was doing or that I even still... Had these. I've been wanting to destroy them, but... Fear keeps me from doing so.

My continuing possession of these notes and some of these older spells, though... Lead to a very uncomfortable evening with Cyrah. He... Actually wanted me to use some horrid spells on him for some ungodly reason. I'm honestly thankful that they failed, and I can't believe that I allowed myself to cast them for any reason, much less that I even entertained the thought. I... think it might be best to stay away from him for awhile because of this. I'm... Beyond ashamed and... Well, scared that I tried to fulfill his requests. I know what these spells are like when they work, and... I was going to use them on someone else. But that's just... Really been one slip that I've caught myself making as of late. I've... Fallen back to some rather horrendous methods of casting as of late, too.

I don't know if the war is just... Affecting me or if this is honestly just... Well, me. Maybe I really am more like Him than I realized. It's not a thought I'd like to keep, but it's one I've not been able to shake as of late. I know I justify keeping this information because... I don't know if he'll come back, but... What if he's not? Why am I like this? And if I'm being honest with myself, while it really hurts me to consider it, I... Don't know if the marriage should happen. What would this do to her if she found out? ...'If she found out', why am I entertaining the idea of keeping things from her like that? And my family here, for that matter... I don't really feel that I deserve any of them. The idea of burdening any of them with this right now... I just can't do that. None of us need additional weight put upon us right now, and my problems really aren't important.

I just... Need to push through this. Too many people who have lost too much and put too much on the line for me to be in my head as I have been. All I'm going to do by being like this is hurt people I don't wish to hurt.

If... Dove or any of my family comes across this somehow, and... They read this without my knowledge? I love you so much, and I'm sorry I'm like this.


There are no drawings following this entry. The ink on the pages seems like it was smeared in some spots, and the handwriting seems very rushed and anxious.

[Hoital]

The handwriting in the following entry is very rushed, clearly written by a very shaky hand. This has rendered it barely legible.

17 Hammer 1356

It has been some time since I've touched this journal. To be honest, after the previous entry, I couldn't bring myself to really touch this thing again for awhile. Things have occurred, however, that will require me to keep records to fall back to in case it's needed. The devils are done save for a few stragglers, so that's wonderful. However, that peace has proven itself short-lived following the evening before last.

A man who has come into the Lyre for various business transactions brought a dagger to Joy, thinking it had been misplaced. The dagger in question, however, was familiar. It was a relic of my past that I'd hoped to have left well behind me. Perhaps my fear wound up being some self-realizing thing? But there's no doubt. That dagger... The dagger that was found inside the Lyre, my home, came from that damned tower. It was -his-. It was the one I'd used. I can't look at it without praying that I'll simply wake up from some horrible dream. I wanted him gone, I wanted all of this gone! I'm free here. I finally have family here. Why now? Why this?

I tried to look over the dagger using detection castings, even a scrying. My efforts have revealed precious little. He knows where I am and I've no idea where he is. He could be in the city, I could walk past him... It's a thought I don't like to entertain, but one I can't seem to avoid. I'm not the same person I was then, but I don't know if that's going to be enough. I may have to go back to that damn tower to look for his phylactery, provided he actually hid it there. If... I bring people with me, I'd be putting them in danger. I'd be showing them who I was before I got here. I'm terrified, but... I can't let that man monster continue to exist. I can't let him drag me back, and I'll be damned if he's going to harm the people I care about here. I'll have to make preparations.

There are no drawings or doodles following this entry.

[Hoital]

20 Hammer 1356

Halgard approached me the other day saying that an elven fellow with a very strong resemblance to me came into the Lyre asking for me. He said he thought the fellow was family of mine and that he'd left no name to pass on. The problem with this is that... I don't have any living blood relatives that I know. Hells, I don't even really remember the family I did have, just... This feeling that they were there at one point, basically. Needless to say, this has had me shaken, given the situation as of late.

I did eventually come across the very same elf last evening, though. He was... Just strolling through the Farmlands, right by a group next to the campfire. I wasn't certain at first, but I've not seen another elf bear that close of a resemblance to me in quite some time. Not since that escaped slave girl turned up. Where she looked like she could damn well be blood family, though... This man looked like a clone. It... It was unsettling.

He gave me his name, one Fothnios Elyandifilya, and he stated that he was, in fact, the one who had been into the Lyre asking for me. He also spoke of the dagger. He... He said he was instructed to leave it there for me as a 'reminder for a debt owed'. For all my precautionary wards, he appeared to be a normal moon elf, if... Well, a bit unnerving in his appearance and discussion. Neither truesight nor undeath detection revealed anything out of the ordinary.

Apparently, I'm expected to hunt down some... Damn playbook? Why a playbook? Holton loathed anything he considered a 'distraction'... Gods know I bear plenty of scars from being taught that lesson in particular. There's something more to this and I do intend to locate that book, but gods... If it's something that will aid him if it's in his hands, I swear I will burn it in front of him with a smile on my face. He will never touch that book unless it will somehow lead to his destruction.

But I can't help but wonder... Why go through all of this effort with the godsdamned dagger and even sending some... Disturbingly close look-alike to pass on the information? Why wait over three damn years? And where in the hells did he even find this Fothnios fellow, anyway? Does that delusional bastard honestly think I actually -owe- him a favor for all he's put me through?

Many have offered to help, and I am more grateful than they could ever know. Just... I spent so long dealing with this monster on my own that... The thought that I'm not alone now is... I can't seem to really grasp it. With that said, I do worry about what is to come. If... People are going to get hurt or worse because of this... If... People are going to see me for what I'd been forced into becoming under that man. At least if this shadow is purged finally, I could always pack up and go elsewhere without worry if I need to. That said, I'd... Honestly rather not. The Gate is the first place I've honestly felt to be home. I'm terrified of the thought of having to abandon it or... Losing the people I've come to know and love dearly here.

Gods, I need to do something to get my mind off of this, if only for awhile. Worried speculation isn't going to do much good, I know, I just... I can't seem to help it.

The following pages are very rough sketches that appear to be unicorns. It's clear that they were sketched by a shaky, nervous hand, and several have been angrily scribbled over. There does seem to be a progression of improvement from one to the next, though, however slight it might seem.

A quick follow-up. I recently sent word to Isabella of Candlekeep asking her about this damn playbook. I'll... Have to come up with a fitting text to gain entry into the library to look for it if it's even in there. Part of me hopes it's not as that may well make destroying it difficult. Also, Holton may be able to obtain it through this Fothnios fellow if that's the case. But knowing where it is would certainly be a good step, so... We shall see.

[Hoital]

6 Ches 1356

I've neglected this, but I'd managed to worry myself into a state where I'd actually become physically ill somehow. That or I caught something and it's pure coincidence. At any rate, as of now, the situation regarding that damned play is this:

• Sent to Miss Oona of the White Mask Theatre

• Letter sent to Clarity Cellars

• Response received with little information, but what information that was there was useful

• Sent a second letter to Clarity Cellars requesting any specific details to aid contact. No word yet.

This has been the situation for the past several days and my nerves are all but shot. I was just handed a letter from Miss Oona of the White Mask Theatre regarding the play. Gods, as anxious as receiving this letter has made me, I could hug her for the information provided. She mentioned a name, a Billi Rattlestick, apparently currently performing the Blue Mask Theatre in Waterdeep, has asked to perform at this very play at the White Mask Theatre here in the Gate. Gods bless her for agreeing to host it.

I was also given a quick summary of the play's premise... It seems even stranger that Holton would want this damned thing. It's apparently some sort of impeded romance story? What in the hells is he getting at with this? What am I going to find if I keep digging? It was suggested that I dig in and try to force his hand with a direct sending. It seemed like it would move things along, certainly, but I'm not sure if it would be in a favorable direction. Opening up that line of contact if able might simply allow him to toy with me further. I don't intend to follow through with that idea without properly preparing myself and making sure I've got some trusted company with me who know of the situation. It may be my paranoid nature, but I can't help but feel like he would possibly try something.

Miss Oona has requested an explanation... I suppose I do owe her that much. Besides, this may be inviting trouble into her Theatre and I'd rather her not agree to that blindly. That wouldn't be right. I'll be sending word to her shortly to offer clarification. Hopefully she won't break her agreement with these performers over this.

I'm not sure if this feeling going through me is nervousness or excitement or both, but if this leads me to finally destroying that monster, I'll endure it if I must.

The following pages are several sketches, but they seem... Off by comparison to his usual sketches. Many of them are very quick sketches of various animal skulls surrounded by flowers and the occasional butterfly.

[Hoital]

7 Ches 1356

I must admit I had no intention of making another entry so soon after the last one unless there was some important change in the present situation I'm in, but today was a particularly eventful day. I honestly did not think I could feel so drained as I wound up being following today's events, but I'm happy to have been able to help someone else instead of wallowing and waiting and fixating like I'm prone to doing.

Firstly, I managed to make it to a meeting to aid a newer hire and very easily made friend. I don't care for how the situation is being... 'Resolved', I guess, but it's at least the equivalent of bandages to hold you over till you can get to a proper healer. I do hope I'm wrong and this benefactor of hers treats her well and there's no need to really.... Patch up the patchwork, as it were. That said, when it was all said and done, it looked as if someone had knocked the weight of the world off of her shoulders. Do hope both Carah and Flint recover from the events quickly and enjoy their time following all this headache.

After that was all said and done, I'd returned home and... Sort of wound up nodding off in the bath. Thankfully, I wasn't disturbed and came to again shortly. One of the other members of the House might have taken advantage of it for the sake of stupid pranks. Last thing I need is some sort of odd dye or horrible teleportation incident. Just have to remember that fire isn't a universal solution and love is the restraint here. Besides, the more light-hearted antics do give me a break from everything.

Anyways, following my impromptu rest in the bath, I found myself being asked to join Arorn and Lyra with a very interesting, if unusual group of docile lizardfolk. Must admit I was quite nervous about accidentally causing problems with them, though my nerves may have damn well still been frayed considerably so soon after that flind nonsense. I was quite happily surprised to not only find myself quite wrong in my concerns but being welcomed to watch an important hatching ceremony. Would have rather not stood in that cold pond first, but... Sometimes you do things you'd rather not. At least I didn't find myself in Lyra's position.

Unfortunately, the evening with these strange but likeable lizardfolk didn't remain pleasant as we were asked to look into some... Very odd, very purple slimes that seemed eager to consume amethysts. We somehow avoided conflict for the most part, but.... Gods, I wasn't prepared to handle -so many-.

The journal entry continues on, but it seems as though his exhaustion caught up with him as he'd started slipping into resting as he wrote. Any further writing is little more than unintelligible squiggles.

[Hoital]

In one of the estates of the Gate, in the room of one, odd mage, sits a journal. The journal has seen better days, as evidenced by its haggard cover and layer of dust. It's as if the owner forgot about it, either by intent or as things naturally fade from memory, it's unclear.

After long months of being undisturbed since the last hastily scribbled entry was made, the door to the room opens and shuts quickly. Bare, scarred hands find the book and tear it open. The pages that had been used to record the various troubles and musings of a flustered, scattered mind are tossed aside as the hands hurriedly flip past them all in search of a blank page. The owner of the hands and the journal is a very young elven man who seems to be all over the place as he mutters incoherently to himself. Before long a pen is placed to the paper and that familiar, barely legible handwriting starts as he hastily records what must be something important. The handwriting is shakier than normal, and the paper bears a few errant blood droplets here and there

18 Alturiak 1357

“Tiefling woman from Daggerford. Ilmateri healer. She claims to be caring for my father. My father, to my knowledge has been dead since I was small. Not sure what to make of it. The names she gave are irrationally frustrating. They're just familiar enough to me that I should know them, but I can't get a clear image in my head of these people. I should know who they are, why don't I remember? She apparently came in looking for an "Othonis", which isn't a name I've regularly gone by ever since leaving that godsdamned tower. The few who know it here are people I trust. That might explain the woman's eagerness to depart if anyone in the Lyre heard her say that name. It's not a name that's generally said with anything pleasant.

Given what I thought of my father, I'm also not sure how to take the news that she delivered. He's ill and dying. She's going to try to bring him here. She said he's been looking for me all this time, but... I never moved from that tower in so long... Holton seemed to know where I came from. He seemed to know my parents, he just... Refused to give me names aside from what I'd assumed to be the surname I shared/share with my father. If... That was Holton's home and he knew them. It's entirely possible that I'm not recalling things properly. Maybe I didn't... Hear what I thought I heard? Or... Was it a dream? Why is this so frustrating? She said this Rusarwyn never mentioned HIS name.

She said she was going to send word to have him brought to the Ilmateri temple to visit, possibly spend his final days? I don't know. I'm not sure if it's nerves or fear or just this nagging feeling that none of this feels likely or real. I'll need to speak with Nathan, possibly Sister Ashenie. She said it would likely be in the next few days or so.

If this is him and what she said was true, I don't know how to really handle this. I should know these people and I don't. I just have these vague pieces of memories. Nothing I can actually gain any familiarity through. Nothing coherent. How do I know this is even him?

With this on top of everything else, the thought of trying to rest any, sleep or reverie, is just laughable. The nightmares and the memories I have that I can't seem to avoid dragging myself back to were bad enough, but this... I can't focus on any one thought right now.

Feels like there are hornets nesting in my skull. What is this? Any of this? What the hells am I supposed to be doing right now? I don't know and it's eating at me.”

This entry isn't followed with any drawings like the others before it. The journal is simply left sitting open on the table in his room, as if again forgotten by its owner.

[Hoital]

21 Alturiak 1357

As with the previous entry, this one is written like someone who seemed fearful that they'd die before finishing recording what they had to. Likewise, the paper is, again, speckled with errant spots of blood. It's as if the author developed a nosebleed and pressed on with the task at hand anyway.

“Since the meeting with the woman from Daggerford, I've made it a point to visit the Ilmateri temple more often. I informed Nathan and Sister Ashenie of the situation. I'm terrified. To be honest, it feels like thousands of nightmarish scenarios have popped up in in mind, each one seemingly just as plausible as the rest.

I know I can trust Nathan to keep me aware of what's going on, and I know that he can handle himself, but this isn't something I can back away from. Gods, my hands feel like ice and it's as if I've lost all ability to hold still, but I've got to hold it together. My problem is by no means the only danger present at the moment. These portals, this nonsense with this Orcus creature and his grotesque, desiccated servants. The balors. It feels like it's every single day and each fight we face, we're coming closer and closer to scraping by. The bright point to this is that the shards left behind of the runes associated with the portals have offered some insight through scrying. We know that these creatures are interested in someone, a woman in particular. The numbers seemed endless in what I was able to see with my scrying attempts. Need to know who this woman is. Whoever she may be, I doubt she deserves being dragged into the Abyss by this creature.

Gods help us, and gods watch over that woman.”


The entry is followed by some random scribbles, perhaps the result of a nervous hand attempting to burn off anxious energy. None of them seem terribly detailed or done with any clear idea in mind, but they seem to have an odd element of cohesion to them.

Following the drawings is another entry. This one appears to be missing the date and the paper isn't just mottled with bloodspots, but it looks like someone had been trying to record the situation while their hands were actually bloodied. Needless to say, the entry is barely legible.

“Went with Emmanuel and a woman named Sara, a paladin from the Holy Sword, to investigate the area where the first portal was said to be seen. We encountered a few of those mummified servants, but they didn't seem to be as much of a problem as they had been previously, and we were able to make it to the site with little effort. While investigating, Sara spoke with us about what her order had been doing to try to face the trouble. It was as I'd thought, these shards can be used to create a portal going the other way, though the process is likely not an easy one. She said that through that course of events, her order of fifty strong fell til there were only two including herself.

We were also told that the shards, somehow, could explode, essentially, into balors at the whim of the creature who made them. A problem that seemed rather concerning until we were distracted by a large creature flying overhead.

It turned out to be a massive balor, which Sara instantly charged furiously. I tried to restrain it, I tried to conceal us to get her out too, but she refused to back down. I should've just grabbed her and cast the teleportation spell I had prepared. Instead we ran as she demanded. I swear I could hear her screaming like she was being torn apart before that creature flew off. I should've just done something. Why did I choke? Would Tyr have held it against her if we'd dragged her away from that beast? Suppose it's best to not speculate on all of that. She did what she did, and we did what we did. Her final words, 'He's here', were passed on to the soul remaining knight, Mary. She responded by giving us a name, Xian, I believe it was. She's grieving the loss and I don't blame her. We've got to make this right somehow, I just don't know how beyond sending every last one of those abominations back.

It wasn't until I got back home that I realized I needed to contact someone with the Radiant Heart, but as soon as I reached out, the shards I'd had on my person, in my very pants pockets, went off and Balors tore themselves free from my now shredded pants.

The only thing I could think of after all of that was that I'd been taking a nap in the Ilmateri temple with those. What if they'd gone off then? I don't want to think about it. At least the people who tend to find themselves in our bar tend to also be the sort who can handle themselves, but what of the ill or the injured? Even with wards protecting the orphanage, I shudder to think about what I could have brought those poor souls.

As it stands, the Lyre is a wreck. Thank gods we were going to remodel soon, but... I would have rather avoided demolitions to be carried out by balors. Several people, including myself, were hurt badly during that altercation. My shoulder burns terribly, but it's..... Nothing I can't push past. I'm more worried for Ashling and Flint. I hope they recover soon. No more shards are to come into the Gate from here on.

We will be okay one way or another.”

More drawings, as all over the place as before, except some of them look like random sketches of bird feathers tied together with string or some sort of ribbon. A few of these sketches are scribbled through.

These drawings are followed by a third and final entry for now. There is no order to it, it seems to simply be less of an entry and more of a series of rushed notes jotted down by a very shaken hand. Again, there is no date.

“He's here. I know that voice. That voice has haunted me for years. I can't rest without hearing it somewhere in the back of my mind, waiting for me to drift off or attempt reverie.

A deer appeared before us that set off my undeath detection ward. It exploded into a small torrent of undead rats after it fell over dead. I don't know how those got there, but they were.

Emmanuel was able to follow the deer's footsteps back to a place where Azariah was thankfully there and able to sort out a teleportation I'd managed to feel or see one. I'm still not sure which.

Her efforts took us to the Lion's Way and we were quickly assaulted by undead that were thankfully easy to dispatch. They seemed to be what remained of a caravan belonging to a group of Ilmateri faithful. I looked into the wagon and saw nothing save for a still warm bed and healing supplies. It appeared that they were transferring someone injured or ill and I've a feeling it's related to my situation.

Did I send to someone to have that wagon retrieved and returned to the Ilmateri? Hells I can't remember anything anymore.

I was able to scry using a sample of blood that was collected near the wagon. I saw him. I saw Holton with someone. I know it was him. That voice, there's no way. The person he had, regardless of blood relation to me, is in danger and needs to be helped. I can't seem to place the room I saw them in. Some sort of library or study? I was well lit and seemed comfortably furnished. Books were all over.
He called the other person his 'old friend'. What was happening? Please, gods watch over that person.
I couldn't get more past that. It was as if he heard me through the scrying. He turned to look at me. Could he see me? It brought me back to the final night with him before I tried to end this. That sickly sensation of fear. It felt, for a moment, like my soul tried to leave without the rest of me.

I think I tried to tell Nathan or... Someone, but I can't recall. All I remember was not being able to feel or hear anything but my own pulse in my veins. Did I tell someone or did I hallucinate it?

I have to focus, though. I saw that room. That room needs to be located. Maybe I can try another scrying attempt? What if I attempt to work with something else? Or a focus like I'd used for the shards? Will Holton know I'm watching? Gods, has he been watching me?

Coming the Gate was the best thing that's ever happened to me in a long, long time, but... I'm starting to think that all I did was bring additional trouble onto a lot of good people who would have been better off if I'd just never left his godsdamned tower.”

There is nothing following this entry other than anxious scribbling. The words Rusarwyn and Myrethri are written almost as if the author were trying to carve them into the book rather than simply write. Clearly the author of this journal has had quite a series of strange and horrifying events occur over the past few days.

[Hoital]

27 Alturiak 1357

There are several pages between the last entry and this one that are nothing but hastily jotted notes and a sketch or two. The owner seemed to be trying to write things down to sort them out, but anxiety got the better of him as some of the words are scribbled out like he meant to carve them out of the paper in a rush. One of the doodles is a sketch of a holy symbol to Ilmater, broken hands bound with a ribbon or string of sorts, but the whole thing has what appear to be bits of dried blood spattered all over it.

“It has been several days since the last incident. That scrying... I still see it whenever I close my eyes. The room's details are blurred, but... That face obscured by shadow, knowing those eyes, or what now fills the place of those eyes are looking through me as they once did. I'm not sure if it was the gaze he gave me before hiding himself from my scrying efforts or his voice that caused my blood to feel as though it had frozen in my veins. I don't know what he may have been thinking or if he actually... Saw me, but the thoughts of what could have been make me feel as though my skin is practically scrabbling to get off of the rest of me.

Unsurprisingly, this has affected attempts at rest as of late. I can't avoid recalling the scry over and over when reverie is attempted. Each time it's as if his voice grows louder, colder, less.... Alive. The man he's stolen away... His groans sometimes twist into screams. The dreams are at least notably separated from reality to some extent. They're still absolutely horrific, but I can wake from them and know that they didn't actually happen, which is a huge relief. Regardless of possible blood relation to me, I worry for that man. I know that he's likely not faring well, but I haven't been able to focus on finding that room with everything else going on. Until this nonsense is sorted regarding this bastard Orcus, there's precious little I'm going to be able to do. Hopefully I'm wrong and the man is still alive and as well as he can be given the circumstances.

In the meantime, I've been trying to keep myself calmed by visiting the Ilmateri temple. With the Lyre pretty well destroyed due to those shards and everything that's been happening, I've found it easier to settle down and catch my breath in the chapel. I don't know if it's the nature of the place, being devoted to the Broken God, or if it's simply knowing that I have someone I trust dearly nearby. Suspect it might be both. Do feel kind of guilty coming in here so often, but I have been reassured against those odd feelings after speaking with Nathan, and it means a lot that he's still willing to ask me for assistance with things despite the state I seem to be in. It helps ease that dreadful, helpless feeling and I appreciate it greatly.

Having a moment to clear my head a little in the chapel has helped me sort out some of the questions I've got for this Rusarwyn should he still be alive and well enough to speak when I'm able to see him in person. Why was an elven man in the care of Ilmateri healers? I know why I would turn to them, but for some reason, it strikes me as odd after being around some of the other elves I have met here. What sort of man is he? Was this a matter of convenience and chance as his health failed to a point where it was required, or if he genuinely chose these people specifically to help him over Seldarine specific followers? He likely isn't the 'traditional' sort that I've had yelling at me for holding gods outside of the Seldarine closer than I've been told I should. I'm curious. I'm very curious. Who in the hells is this Rusarwyn fellow? Why do these questions about him make me more nervous about meeting him?
Gods, will I even get to? He may well be dead or worse and I'm just letting it happen. It's the only thing I can think of when I have a quiet moment to sit in the chapel. I just... Stare at the symbol from where we found the wagon and wonder.

Please be alright, whoever you happen to be.”

The writing is followed with more random scribbles, none of them quite coherent, just shakily drawn figures. One drawing that seems to have had a bit of effort put into it is a sketch of a hooded face with two lights peering out from the shadows cast over it. Something about the drawing is intensely unsettling.

[Hoital]

28 Alturiak 1357

The handwriting in the journal has only gotten more erratic and incoherent with each past entry. This one in particular appears to be more of a strange stream of consciousness rather than anything really thought out, as if the author simply wanted to get it down with intentions of sorting through it later. The paper, again, is spattered with reddish-brown drips, possibly the results of yet another nosebleed he may have ignored in favor or scrawling down what's here.

Haven't been able to go into reverie successfully in quite awhile. Can't even sleep now. Nightmares have gotten too close to feeling real for me to feel safe in doing so. Last attempt, I saw him as I did when he skinned my first familiar in front of me, but rather than taking that blade to a cat as he proceeded to tell me that I'd made him do this, it was that man. Or what I can recall of that man. I could feel everything just as I did when it was that cat. It was the same tone he spoke to me in that night. That flat, disappointed, subdued scolding tone. None of the noises I tried to make came out. At the end of it, I looked down and my hands were essentially degloved. The man was groaning on the table, but I couldn't see his face, much less make out much detail. I just knew it was him somehow. Holton's voice was clear as crystal, deathly calm as he worked on the task at hand.

'Othonis, you keep forcing my hand into these matters. Do you think I wish to do this? It's such a waste of resources and time... And you do know that I value both quite a deal. Oh well. We'll have to what we can to break you of your terrible habits.'

He spoke as if he were merely carving into a roast while the ill man groaned helplessly. I could still feel all of it. It was unbearable, but still my noises were muted.

'Your mother, oh your poor mother... What would she think if she knew her child was such a lazy, wasteful creature? But I suppose you can't entirely help it. Your father simply gifted you his flaws. A shame. Such a shame...'

As he spoke. he turned his eyes, or what was now counting as his eyes from under the shadowy hood, onto me. The gaze turned my blood cold. There was a sigh from him that briefly interrupted his work before he finally raised his blade and plunged it into the prone, flayed man's throat. I could feel it and I woke up gasping and clawing at my throat.

It took an indeterminate amount of time of me staring at my hands before it occurred to me that I'd been dreaming. I had been dreaming, right? my arms from my elbow down to my fingertips and the wound in my throat burned even while awake without me bearing any new wounds like I had in the dream. I seem to have passed out in the chapel of the Ilmateri temple again. Thankfully, I didn't actually stir too terribly much and cause anyone concern.

How was his voice was so clear, yet so unnatural and hollow. He is but one man, but he is one exceptionally capable, exceptionally merciless man

It is about here that the handwriting may not even be legible to the author, who later went back to sketching. This time, the drawings are far more coherent, but somehow more disturbing. One is of a man balled up into a corner, strips of flesh missing. Another depicts what may be known to some as this Holton the author keeps mentioning.