The Tragedies of Erythnul

A Heavy Heart

Jhulaer De-Ath

Thormin and I begin our walk back to camp after meeting with the thief, Thomas, without saying a word. There’s not much that needs to be said, but I’m deep in thought as it is, and my full attention is on the items. With a short amount of study, I can tell that the ring bearing the sigil of the king harbors no magical aura, but the amulet bearing the abhorrent symbol is another story entirely. It’s aura is threefold, containing conjuration, enchantment and transmutation magic, but what it does I cannot tell. After arriving at camp I inform the group of the items, and my intention to understand the effect of the amulet by putting it on.

Before the others can protest, I slip it around my neck. I’m tired of wasting time. If we wanted to understand what it did, someone would have to wear it, and I’m the best equipped to handle the magic if something is amiss.

The amulet is not what I expect. A growing pressure mounts upon my chest, as though a weight has been placed upon me, dragging me down as I struggle to stay in control. I begin to sweat, as speaking and answering the inquiries of Balador and the others becomes increasingly difficult. Strange thoughts begin to creep into my head articulating fears. Fears I have had, fears I didn’t know I had, and fears that were never fears before all brought to light in the wake of the twisted power of this artifact. Suddenly, I’m unconscious as Balador grabs the amulet from my neck.

When I awake, the amulet is away from me, hanging from a tree branch, and I begin the process of scrying for the king, first with the ring, which paints a strange picture of an event some time ago, (for what reason this happens, I am not sure) in which the king is murdered, and a shapeshifter takes his place. I relay this information to the others, and follow by scrying with the amulet. The scry reveals a dark room, difficult to see in, but as my eyes adjust I notice a figure in the corner which slowly moves close to me, until I can see in the dim beam of light, that the figure is Dorin, or at least one of the many aspects of him. He sees me, somehow. Through the scry and with his blind white eyes he sees me and begins to reach out his bony gnarled hand. Before he can “touch” me, I sever the connection, resolved to destroy the amulet.

The following moments are somewhat of a blur now, but I know that despite my best attempts with a disintegrate spell, the power of the amulet reflects my spell back upon me, leaving me at death’s door. If not for the quick action of Balador, I would have certainly died. Thormin buried the amulet to at least be rid of it, and after an attempt at scrying for Wesley Polluck, who appears to be asleep, I do the same.

We awake before dawn and begin the trek around the city walls to the skyport where we will meet with our ride. We pass a group beating a boy, and after scaring them off we learn that the boy’s name is Balador, despite this, the boy does not seem interested in our help.

As we continue our walk, I stop short. With a snap I feel the intense pressure upon my chest again as though the amulet were still there. It lessens and I’m able to carry on, still unnerved by the continued effects. Before reaching the ship, Thormin reveals to me that the night before, as we walked from the city, he noticed a blue light hovering around me. I explained the first time I saw the light, on the night of Roz’s death, but that I haven’t been able to determine the significance of the light.

We arrive at the ship and are greeted by our captain, who expresses his desire to leave the city as quickly as possible. After some sleep on the ship, we decide to explain everything about our plans and our enemies to our traveling companions, at which point it is revealed to us that my suspicions were correct, and that Arellia is in fact a mage, and that she’s even powering and controlling the ship with her magic.

Within a day we arrive in Baradur, and begin our trek into the snow and cold. It’s not long before we come across an encampment of Dracos soldiers, and I know that the heat of battle may soon warm us.


Zassimick Archonramas

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