The thirteenth page.

Winter 25th, 569



To begin this, I'd like to hearken back to several months ago, when a valuable tome entitled Nautical Knowledge was found. Two groups of people - the rugged Pirates and the learned staff of the University of Puddleby - wished to possess it, so it was established that a tournament would be held to decide which group would earn the right. In the mean time, Mystic Wangah Rah held the book, despite his affiliation with the Pirates.

The tournament took place, and, despite several accusations of cheating, the Pirates were declared the winners. Rah supposedly handed the book over.

Now that its background's been explained, the tale itself can be told. Nate Autical has decided recently that he's collected enough materials to improve the ship that carries exiles to Peaceton. Apparently, however, materials aren't enough - Nate feels he needs to research ship building some before he can complete his task. The fellow came to town the other day asking after books and any other knowledge on naval technology that we had. Naturally, Nautical Knowledge was mentioned. In fact, it just so happened it just so happened that Kalian, who represents the pirates occasionally, had the book with him, and was all too willing to hand it over.



Things would have gone on well enough from there, but Nate took one good look at the book and declared it worthless to him, stating that its pages were filled with obvious nonsense. Rah, sneering complacently, approached Nate and explained that the book Kalian had held was a forgery. Wangah had possessed the real version all along, and never had any intention of handing it over to any exile that owned it more rightfully than he.

This means that the entire contest was a sham, and that all of Puddleby was manipulated into believing a lie. Whether the outcome of the tournament was legitimate or not is irrelevant - Rah obviously would have kept the book to himself no matter who rightfully won it. Although Wangah claims that this deception was carried out on behalf of the Mystic council, his statement is unconfirmed. Indeed, this strikes me as something one would expect from someone acting according to his own selfish whims.

This sort of disgusting behavior is the sort of thing most right-minded people have come to expect from the likes of Wangah Rah, who has a well established history of violence, racism, necromancy, and affiliation with the orga. However, deception of this level against one's fellow exiles is particularly vile, even for the likes of him.

I personally urge extra caution when dealing with this conniving ball of slime that presumes to call itself a Mystic. If you must, shun him. Place a complete embargo upon interaction with him, if only to protect yourself, your assets, and your families. At the very least, don't help him when he inevitably digs himself into an infinitely deep hole of deception and thievery. Through our combined efforts, I'm certain we can teach even the particularly dimwitted what happens when they try to swindle the good people of Puddleby.

--Largo

The twelfth page.

Autumn 62nd, 568



Two more Heralds have come and been slain since I last wrote. The messages seem to be more and more serious, and the beasts delivering them grow stronger and stronger. Other, unrelated events have taken place, but I'll write about them another day, for I fear this is the most important thing to share right now.

A few days ago, in what I can only assume was the standard fashion, a starbuck Herald and a swarm of his brethren delivered the following message. I wasn't present, personally - these details are only known to me because Myiasis shared them.

With vile contempt and opened scorn
the fourth of heralds' threat was made.
But would the witness hearken or
fear an omen thus conveyed?

Starbucks aren't a feature of the solar zodiac, which lays my previous theory completely to rest. I suppose the chiggers were something of a stretch anyway. Also notable - and especially disturbing - is the fact that these normally docile deer turned vicious to deliver their message. Someone is of the mind that turning the natural world upside down to explain something to us is worth the trouble, which makes our situation seem all the more dire.



Destroying my other idea is the fact that another Herald bore its message to us fewer than four days after the starbuck. This puzzling event removes any pattern in timing that I am able to see.

This time, the swarming animals were tor. True to form, they seemed harmless at first, but became stronger as the fight waged on. Before long, we were battling beasts with scaly skin tougher than the strongest leather, and shells as impenetrable as the thickest iron shield. Indeed, the resiliency of the final waves of tor could easily be likened to that of a particularly imposing mud golem. When the Herald was finally found and put to rest, it delivered its message in the same way that the others did before it.

The Fifth of heralds held its tongue
enduring torment of the sword.
But did the witness heed this deed
or had this presage been ignored?



I don't claim to understand what these rhymes or the circumstances surrounding them mean. But I do know that their tone is becoming more serious, and even accusing. The beasts delivering them grow more dangerous. This all bodes ill.

--Largo

The eleventh page.

Autumn 58th, 568



A strange event has been repeating itself with apparent regularity for the past several days. Although the exact details change slightly each time, the general occurrences remain the same. First, a large swarm of some type of creature is spotted, and exiles go to combat it. This swarm seems never to shrink, no matter how many beasts are killed. Indeed, the creatures seem to grow stronger and larger as the battle wages on. At some point, the appearance of a death poppy catches everyone off-guard.

The battle culminates with the appearance of a particularly strong creature, slightly different than its fellows in coloration or size. When cut down, this creature explodes in a ball of fire and conjures a circle of runes. A message in the form of a cryptic poem is magically relayed to those in the immediate area, and exiles across the island chain all feel what's been described as a "wave of pain". Because of the messages they bear when slain, these creatures are referred to as heralds.



At the time that I write here, this has taken place a total of three times. The first herald was a rat, the second an ona chigger, and the third some sort of bird. The timing is notable - the heralds have come almost exactly four days apart from eachother. One thing I've noted about the heralds is that they almost seem parallel to the features of the solar zodiac. The rats correspond with Enba, the birds with Eghorus, and the chiggers might symbolically represent one of the others.

The tone and apparent meanings of the poems brought to us by the heralds seem to indicate that some powerful person or group of persons is trying to send us an important message of distress. However, it doesn't strike me as the work of any mage I'm familiar with. What I've read of the 'Brion brothers indicates that they'd probably be more direct with us, even if they complained about it some. Votenkath doesn't seem to care one way or the other what happens to we exiles, and Colmert seems to be an amiable type, who'd endeavor to explain the trouble to us immediately if we were at risk. There's also the trouble of the "serious" problem being undisclosed to us. It seems that someone who truly wanted to warn us of something would explain what they were warning us of.



Of course, all of this is speculation in the purest sense. The messages of a few more heralds might further prove or disprove my ideas, and will, hopefully, add more pieces to the puzzle presented by the riddles we've been delivered so far. I'll continue to write about these strange events as they take place.

--Largo

---

This second bit of the entry is written in a different ink, apparently added to the page shortly after the first.


The First among the heralds sought
an ear receptive to its word.
But would the witness give his ear
to the confusion to be heard?

The Second of the heralds brought
a portent filled with dire distress.
But would the witness shun advice
And seek instead a nescient bliss?

The third of heralds raised its horn
and blared its bodement pure and plain.
But could the witness understand
if never comprehending pain?


I nearly forgot - above you'll find written the messages brought by the three heralds, as they were relayed to those exiles present to hear them. Although I personally missed the first two, my good friend and fellow thespian Illora Mone quite kindly saw fit to provide them to all interested parties.

--Largo

The tenth page.

Autumn 25th, 568



The other day, Un'drus invoked the wrath of some previously unknown myrms with his digging. These new myrms were incredibly vicious and hardy; Their mandibles were sharp and strong, their chitin was difficult to effectively pierce, and they traveled in swarms. Needless to say, the hapless miner fell very quickly, and it was up to we exiles to save him.

After some debate and confusion about the best way to reach the dwarf, we finally entered below the library and looped around, fighting ants all the way. We would have gone through the ossuary under the healer temple, but that would have been too dangerous - we would have stepped directly into the swarming myrms.

Combat went on for a short time before a large portion of the group fell, myself included. It took a good while before I was raised, but it was in time for me to run south and see the rest of my comrades killing an enormous, loathsome purple grub of some sort. Imagining what a grub like that may grow into is very unsettling, but more unsettling still is the fact that they've probably lived, unchecked, below Puddleby for hundreds of years.



Once the grub was slain, a large wave of dangerous "defender" myrms burrowed up from under us, and began a relentless attack. It was a long and difficult battle, but we eventually prevailed. Our victory there marked the last of that encounter, aside from some quick cleaning up afterwards.

In the end, Un'drus was rescued very successfully. After the myrms were killed, he thanked us, set out a keg, and returned to his station. If given supplies and time, I think that miner's guild is likely to stumble upon the hive of these new myrms and grubs, giving us the opportunity to hunt and study them further. After Nate Autical's project is completed, I know where I'll be sending my donations.

--Largo

The ninth page.

Summer 59th, 568



I stepped outside of the library the other day to find that someone had upset the wendecka enough that they had invaded town. The apes were very loud and aggressive, strange because they tend to keep to themselves as long as people avoid their territory. There were Sasquatches, normal Wendecka, Silverbacks, Midnights; Even some sorts of apes that I didn't know populated any place outside of Metzetli loped out of their caves to attack us. It took hours to cut our way to and through the passes alone. If people hadn't been so enthusiastic when it came to fighting and skinning the furry creatures, we might not have made any progress at all.



When we reached the Greymyr village and began to clear it out, we were met with a nasty surprise. A very large and furious mother Wendecka, apparently the source of the commotion, began to wreak havoc on our numbers. The beast was much smarter than any I've ever seen. It wouldn't allow itself to be bricked or rodded, and it chased chainers with incredible vigor, as if it knew they were important targets. Although some people were hesitant to kill a mother Wendecka that was so obviously capable of thought, it was eventually cut down anyway. From there, ending the invasion was a simple matter of cleaning out stragglers from the places we'd missed on our first pass.

I noticed during the fighting that my training as a Champion was very useful. Chaining people away from the furious mother would have been a lot harder and more painful if I hadn't been taught to run at full speed in armor. I also very much appreciated the fact that I'm able to hit nearly all types of ape with the help of my Fell Blade and Atkite. In all, my practice is going very well. I think I'll write more about the Champion trainers and specialties in a later entry, because some people I've spoken to seem a little bit confused as to how they operate.

--Largo

The eighth page.

Summer 54th, 568



I've finally met my goal of becoming a Champion. I recovered my Earthstone a short time ago, thanks to a lump of ore generously donated by my clan brother Aravir. From there, being accepted into the hall was a simple matter of attaining appropriate skill with my Fell Blade. My thanks go out to the people who showered me with ore - you're too many to name, but you all know who you are.

The Champion "hall" is really more of a cave below the barracks than anything else. The floor and walls are simple dirt, dimly lit by a few strategically placed braziers. The teachers and hangers-about have already exceeded my expectations though. Not only are they some of Puddleby's strongest, they've all been very friendly to me as well. I feel very welcomed, and very honored to be associated with the lot of them. Despite the plain decor, I think I'll fit in very well here.

As for training and my plans from here on out, I've already mastered channeling what little earth power I have into Atkite, and, as I write this, I believe I'm nearly finished learning to channel it into Darkite as well. Beyond that, I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do. I'm most likely to practice with Erthron until I pass the sixth circle fighter test, then look into more exotic options. Toomeria and the Shieldstone ring come to mind.

--Largo

The seventh page.

Summer 41st, 568



Though acquiring it was a long and arduous task, wrought with expensive deals and difficult choices, Bane finally has a completed Darkstone at its disposal. The purpose of this entry is to share what knowledge we have of these artifacts with whoever wishes to learn it, hopefully laying to rest a few rumors that I know have circulated.

Though we don't have very much information to work with, Darkstones may very well may be the "tainted Moonstones" that the Dar'shak Theocracy is reported to use in various incantations and rites. Deep violet, roughly the same size as a regular Moonstone, seething with necromantic energy and obviously tied to the cult, they fit Hulapop's description very well. This is a theory I hope to explore more thoroughly in the future.

An exile can obtain a Darkstone by trading four different shards to Necro's apprentice. This apprentice will only work with mystics, and can be found north of the Sage's hut in Necro's conference room. Though dealing directly with a sworn enemy makes my stomach churn and the fur on my neck stand on end, some evils are necessary in the scope of things.

When placed inside the Dark Temple's pentacle, a Darkstone opens a portal to the Sanctum, a large complex beneath Ash that's filled with elite Dar'shak fighters and undine. It is also the home of the High Priests, which can be identified by their blood red robes and powerful fire magic. A Darkstone's portal is, unfortunately, the only way to enter the Sanctum.

Additionally, and much more malevolently, Darkstones can be used to resurrect a fallen fighter as an undine. I prefer not to write the specifics of that hex, for fear that it might be abused.

While some people may find the idea of staging miniature feasts of T'srrin at their whim exciting, it's important to keep a few things in mind. Necro is very eager to "help" us by forging the stones for free. This, in and of itself, should raise a red flag. The foul priest has never shown us anything but malice before this, and there's no reason to believe he's showing us anything less than that now. Secondly, those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it. The last time something this suspicious was widely distributed to exiles, it sparked the Ripture War.

I don't think I can stress enough that it's important to treat these vile stones with the utmost caution. They can be put to great good by opening the Sanctum to attack, as Bane hopes to do. Conversely, though, they can be put to great evil with their second ability. I hope most vehemently that those exiles who currently have Darkstones or manage to obtain them in the future use them only as a tool to open the Sanctum beneath Ash, never to flippantly turn their fellows into undine.

--Largo

The sixth page.

Spring 78th, 568



While resting in town the other day, I learned through spirit link that my clan sister Indigo had fallen to a liche. Indigo is very zealous when it comes to our clan's cause, so it's not uncommon for her to have a mishap here and there. Thinking nothing of it, I made my way to the Dark Temple to make sure she was alright. On arriving, I couldn't help but note that while there were several wounded undine on the lower levels, none of them were liches. I proceeded upstairs to continue my search.

When I reached the top floor, I was greeted with a most vile and upsetting sight; Pe Ell was standing over an undine that bore a striking resemblance to Indigo, and the pentacle was alight with the effects of some vile incantation. No other people, living or undead, were within sight.



As many of you know, the only way to help an exile turned undine is to fight them into submission and have them healed. I proceeded to try and do just this, despite Pe Ell's best efforts to keep me from it. The battle was short-lived. I felled Indigo and chained her away from the temple. She reverted to her normal self shortly after, and seems to be recovering well.

According to accounts related to me by Indigo, and the garbled confessions and curses spewed at me by Pe Ell, the latter used his darkstone and the pentacle to turn the former into an undine, much in the same way that the Dar'shak Necro would.



Whether this instance came to pass through trickery or through simple kidnapping, I don't yet know for certain. I do know that it came to pass, and I do know that Pe Ell, the ranger that most people know for being nothing more than a whiny louse, is far more sinister, contemptible and dangerous than previously thought. I advise shunning him altogether, as that's the best way to ensure that he is not given the opportunity to steal your fallen body.

--Largo

---

The following is scrawled hastily below the rest of the entry, and in a different ink. It appears that it was added a few days after the entry was initially published.

The events recorded here are the result of a misunderstanding. Pe Ell is not dangerous.

--Largo

The fifth page.

Spring 29, 568



Another few months have passed without me putting my pen to paper. I don't really have an excuse for this; life's neither so boring that there's nothing for me to write about, nor so interesting that I don't have time. Oh well. I'm working on a new entry right now, and I suppose that's what matters.

Although I haven't received word from the rebels since I last wrote, a recent occurance seems to indicate that they're doing well. A trusted friend of mine tells me that agents of the theocracy have resorted to trying to interrogate exiles for information about the rebels. If our enemies are that desperate to gain information, it means that our friends are doing a good job of avoiding them. It's a heartening thought, and we can always use more of those. Also, thank you to those people who are collecting food and supplies to aid the rebels. Hopefully we'll have an opportunity to pass them on soon.

Also regarding Dar'shak, my clan still needs a "wax lips" darkstone shard. We're determined to get one soon, be it through purchasing or finding it. If a little luck couples with that determination, we'll meet our goal in the near future. If it doesn't, then we'll have to work harder.

On another note, an interesting event took place recently when a mantuan was found in east field. It's unclear where this mantuan came from - some people suggested that it swam all the way from Metzetli, and others think that it came from some undiscovered place in the mountains to the east. Whatever the case may be, I count myself lucky for having had the opportunity to help overcome such an incredible beast. I really hope to see more of them in the future.

Life goes on, hopefully I'll write more about it soon.

--Largo

The fourth page.

Winter 46th, 568



I realize it's been a few months since I've written here, but I also realize that nobody really cares either way. Nonetheless, I'll probably make more of an effort in the future to keep this updated with some regularity.

Hunting's been even more of a focus than routine lately. As per usual, Kizmia runs with Kerrah and company are a staple. Even though it sometimes gets a little bit repetitive there, the coins and practice are good. A little monotony never hurt a fen, and at least I'm with decent company.

KI isn't the only place I've been, of course. A few days ago I was privileged to attend a raid on the new orga outback, lead and hosted by Jeepers. I'd been hoping for the chance to go there for a while, and was really pleased to be invited. A few highlights of the trip include: accidentally dropping a chained loathing, moping because Creed got a pony and I didn't, feeling kind of useful a couple of times, and being hit with enough lightning to probably cause serious harm to my mental facilities. I really hope to go back soon.

Champion preparations are going alright. I've been turning potentially valuable iron ore into worthless rocks at an amazing rate, thanks to the extremely generous contributions of too many people to name. I'm staying optimistic in the face of an avalanche of stones, though I feel a little snubbed when I think about how comparatively easy it is to become a ranger. Oh well. The grass is always greener, patience is a virtue, etc.

On a final few notes, Dar'shak activity hasn't extended beyond the norm in a while. There've been no invasions mounted by Necro, no words from the rebels, and no other things of any real note beyond Indigo's uncanny ability to sniff out Greater Deaths at bad times. Bane is still on the lookout for the fourth and final shard needed for our darkstone. If you happen to have the "wax lips" and would be interested in selling it to a good cause, contact me in the lands.

--Largo

The third page.

Autumn 53rd, 567



After some thought, I've finally come to the conclusion that I've mutilated my old journal beyond repair. Writing in it now that it has so many missing pages borders on depressing. So I've decided rather than tearing private entries out of one journal to hide away separately, I'll keep two. This is the public one, the other will mainly be kept to myself. I've re-scribed some of my old entries here to preserve them, and will probably write something more substantial within a few days.

--Largo

The second page.

Winter 24th, 567

I recently played the role of Thoombalt in the debut of Zomeo and Thoomiet. All of those grueling hours spent rehearsing under Measle and Pun'isher's tyrannical directing must have been worth the trouble, because the audience really seemed to enjoy the performance. I only got hit by one pie. That's not too bad.



Our next play is probably going to be the Trial of Manticore, but that's not certain. Measle's been very busy lately, and it's his play. We may end up performing something that Aspasia's been playing around with first. I've said I'd write something myself, but in all honesty, I have enough trouble writing regularly in this journal. Oh well.

In other news, the Bane is well on its way to completing a darkstone. Thanks to some generous gifts and carefully spent coins, we're only one shard away. As someone who's seen darkstones and their wielders do some fairly unpleasant things, I'm still a little bit uneasy about this. On the one hand, they're obviously very dangerous tools, and not to be taken lightly. On the other, they're the only way to get into the sanctum and it's important that we have the means to do that. The good outweighs the bad in my mind. I really hope that I'm right in that.

--Largo

The first page.

Summer 70th, 566

I'm sitting awake in the most comfortable bed I've ever been in. I should be asleep, but I'm too happy and excited. Hopefully writing will help me unwind, and I'll get the sleep I need.



Aspasia's full bard audition took place yesterday. Much to no one's surprise, she easily impressed both the audience and the panel of eight judges enough to take home a lovely gold belt. It's a fashion accessory well earned, she'd been questing for over three years. All the walking back and forth between the bard guild and town to practice her music she did finally payed off.

Life lately is better than I've ever imagined it could be. As I close in on fifth circle, the pieces of several other parts of my life are coming together. I fight hard, I learn fast, I spend my free time happy, I rest well, and I write here. With a little luck, I'll even be able to finally take Figwit to Peaceton before too long.

And maybe I can sleep now that I've written about it.

--Largo