[Carillon]

Lady of Storms bring a curse upon that villainous, treacherous, deranged, truculent half-orc bastard! And the entire Rofireinite church with him! How? How could this have happened? How could even the sniveling, rules-bound Rofireinites have been this utterly foolish and careless? Of all the times for senseless bureaucratic restrictions and useless regulations and endless paperwork to have had a cause, this would have been it! Could they not have at least checked that the half-orc was who he said he was before handing over the children to him?!

I still cannot believe it is true that they are gone ... slipped through our fingers somehow. I sensed some form of enchantment or charm on the priest, though my mind was too clouded by anger to fully puzzle out the details of how he had done it. That he was intelligent, we knew. That he was this cunning and damnably hard to kill, I had no idea. He was dead. I saw his body on the hill, bloody and lifeless, and was glad of the sight.

Bound. He was bound to the stones—it's the only answer that makes any sense at all. Why we didn't take precautions against such a possibility, I don't know. But it is too late now. He has them, and he taunts me with the knowledge. He even had the audacity to leave a letter for me with the priest, bragging of his triumph and the cruel fate he had in store for them: "no suffering will remain unknown to them." I shudder to imagine the horrors they will endure for our foolishness, and our carelessness. That it is our fault, he left no doubt. He said as much in the letter, which I read as the priest stared at me in shock.

I have done everything in my power to rectify this grievous error on our part. I thought to scry the children's location, but I was not certain our bond was strong enough. Instead, I went to their room in the temple, looking for some belonging that might serve as a focus. Too late—that room he had utterly wiped of their presence, as if they had never existed. Indeed, I might have doubted I had the right room, so empty was it of evidence of their presence, save the scrap of paper I found in the corner: "I've made the one mistake you'll ever see. You'll find no more here."

Curse his blackened soul, and may it rot forever in the Pits. I'll not give up so easily. A few hours on the docks and a lot of coin later, I found my first solid lead. A dockhand saw a half-orc escorting four children onto a small craft, bound east. I could feel the surge in my blood at the news. If he wants a fight, then I will bring one to him. This will not go unchallenged. I will call upon the aid of others and make certain the children are brought back safely, and then I will find a way to destroy him. I will end him, if it means dragging his twisted essence down into the Pits of Strife myself, and binding it there.

Since that first lead and the accompanying surge of hope, I've managed to track the boat's passage to a wreck east of Vehl, near the border between Co'rys and Ulgrid. The wreckage was spotted by locals and reported, and my inquiries confirmed that the description was close enough to match. They found it still smoldering, and the bodies of the crew discarded on the beach, throats slit or otherwise murdered. I did not linger over the details, but I can imagine the scene. The charred hull of the boat would protrude up into the air, like some strange corpse washed ashore. It still bothers me that boats have the names of body parts: ribs, knees ... in this case it bothers me because I can imagine the ruined remains of the fishing boat and picture instead a small child's body.

I have sent the Rofireinites, frantic to make amends for their mistake, to secure the scene, and have sent for a tracker. We fight the hourglass though; the rain and the elements will soon wash away their tracks and leave no hint of their passing. I refuse to let them disappear entirely, and have written to those responsible for their initial death, as well as those I trust most, beseeching aid. Connor and Anna came to the temple during their stay and spoke with the priest, so I have sent for them as well. I pray they come swiftly. I fear we do not have much time. I do not think he will kill them right away—no, he will make their suffering as prolonged as it is unbearable. Still ... how long will their young spirits endure the tortures of the flesh? And what will happen if we cannot find them in time?