I hope this message reaches you, my name is of no importance... I am a drifter that has been dealt a poor hand indeed. I will tell you a bit of my tale and post as much information here for as long as I can.
I came to Trinsic only a few months past in search of a quick penny and a short visit. I was walking around the memorial park late one night when I was approached by a man clad in the darkest plate mail I had ever seen. Had I been a bit less inebriated, I would have fled for my life, but instead I considered the offer that this man extended. I say I considered it, but the manner in which the man delivered this offer told me that an answer of nay would spell the immediate end of my life. He informed me that he needed an emissary to go to the local architect to arrange the construction of a home nearby swamp and furnish it with his belongings. The local architect actually had a property that he had just completed, so the first task was completed easily... however, once my new patron's belongings arrived, I realized I may have become involved truly evil company.
For some reason the evil Wight known as King Haggard has allowed me to stay alive even after my original commission was completed... Now each night he comes home and fills his chests with corpses of what I am sure were people who were alive when the day began. Perhaps I am allowed to live, only so that the Wight is able to conduct the occasional transaction with mortals... I am not sure precisely why I am still alive, but as long as I am I will continue to try and understand why the undead leaders decided to bring this particular being of pure evil back from the underworld. Any secrets I uncover will be posted here. Using my knowledge of the black market tactics, I was able to convince my master to establish a 'vendor' of sorts. I convinced him that he would need some source of gold if he expected me to conduct any manner of business with mortals, however I have planned all along to sell off any magical items my master leaves within reach of my five fingers. Any relics or mystical artifacts that I find will be placed on this vendor. I only pray he will not discover any items missing before they are removed from the grounds.
You can find my items for sale here viewtopic.php?f=120&t=33384
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Second entry
I once used to bemoan my lot in life; now I would take the poor hand of poverty or the sad lap of the layman's wife any day to my dreadful plight. O how I would welcome the sweet knot of the galley's noose if I knew that in death I could escape the horrors that have been comedies played out before mine eyes each day. But I am certain now that there is no hope. No amount of death or dying could possibly keep my soul safe from these evil creatures.
I thought perhaps, that the limited freedom my master had given me would be welcomed. Yet I have learned a new way comprehend fear. I find that I now prefer the company decapitated heads in my master's domicile over the ghastly beings that roam the town I've come to know as Ravenfel. However, I have of recent discovered a ring in the possession of my master which allows me to move unseen. So I ventured a trip to the tavern of sorts. To my utter dismay, but not surprisingly none of the beverages available would satiate any natural thirst.
As I sat unnoticed in the corner I did overhear a conversation between a wretch of a man, Acotyllo I believe I heard his name, and a lich. They were speaking about King Haggard when my ears perked up. The lich listened to the tales of Acotyllo with an almost filial manner as though he adored this abomination.
"His ability to control the will of magical creatures and powerful beasts is most impressive," Acotyllo recounted. "If not for this power of his, and of course my ever growing capability to open magical gates, we may not have returned from the lost shores of the Titans..."
I lost the rest of the conversation to my thoughts as the pair exited the tavern, the lich's laughter trailing in the haunted wind. I could understand now why they would want this evil power in their ranks, yet it is still a mystery what grander schemes may be at play. The ghouls and liches of this town waltz about freely speaking of their gruesome deeds they have applied to their victims as though they were heroic feats or gallant tales.
For now I will continue to wait and watch. I do not dare chance any type of escape for I am no longer able to discern between life or death, or undeath. I am not dead but I no longer have a place among the living. Everything to me is dead, I am numb.. comfortably numb....
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Sunday, October 30
As I sit trying to block out the screams and howls that resonate in this entire city, I find myself contemplating about phrases of the past that I used to take for granted. Perhaps they were hidden warnings left to us by our ancestors in our language. Phrases and words I used everyday, yet never stopped to wonder.. why? Phrases like, 'a dead end.' Why must streets or paths which have no end be dead? Could we not just as easily say 'the path ends' or 'that is an unfinished trail?' With each day that passes in the service of the dreadful King Haggard, I become convinced that these hidden subtleties in our language were are fact instructions imbedded in our language from a long forgotten past. A warning against the diabolical truth that the undead have claim upon all souls whose mortal paths lead to 'dead ends'; or in other words, those who are not allowed to continue their journey in the afterlife to greater realms.
I realize now that death is no longer the escape from this existence that I thought it was. Men must be prepared to continue their journey in the afterlife in order to avoid eternal enslavement to the will of what King Haggard often refers to as "The Guardian". As for me I have realized this too late. I only pray that some wretched soul may find these writings in time to prevent the same damnable, dead-end fate which has been consigned to me.
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The messenger of Death moves swiftly
viewtopic.php?f=38&t=33619
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