Journal of the Dark Priestess

[Aragon]

It has been sometime since my last writing, in truth much has taken place.  Many things deserving more than the few lines that I shall right about at this time.  I could fill several pages with just then account of the returning the metallic dragons to Layonara, or the accounts of the Grey Circle.  But I believe that I should speak a bit about the newest spring of darkness.

Once again the tide of darkness rises in the lands, even at the very hour that the world is in the greatest of need for help.  A confident woman, one who knows her trade and skill.  She will be a great addition to the causes of Lord Corath.  The speed at which she completed those tasks required to prove her worthiness speaks volumes of her.  To name her here could prove her demise.  Suffice it to say, her skills in poison and stealth out do those of Caldiir.  Several others are proving worthy of my attention.  When the hour of their worthiness is here then will I harvest them into Lord Corath.  

I have been charged with the acquisition of an ancient relic of Corath.  A long dead follower created a weapon capable of draining the very soul from those touched.  This item, known as the black hand, was taken upon his death by Grannoch shamans.  When they realized the extent of the powers contained within, though actually I doubt they have the inteligence to even think it anything more than food, they gave it to some druids of Katia.  The druids hide the black hand in the High Forest.  When we went to the location where they had hide the hand we discovered it had been taken.

I must have this hand, at all costs.  With this hand my enemies will kneel at my feet, this relic would be the centerpiece of the temple.  I soon journey to the Forsaken Islands with Rufus Coldfinger.  It is said that those who venture there come back changed forever.  We shall see.

As of late I have had the oppurtunity to learn much about the Blood War, the ancient war between the Baatezuu and the Ta'nari.  I am enthrawled by the knowledge related by Ozy.  He told me of the types of Baatezuu, the Dark Nine, and the eight Arch-dukes.  Next I will learn abotu the Ta'nari.  I have been successful in summoning several demons and a few devils thus far.  Soon my powers will increase, I feel the strength of Lord Corath in me.

[Aragon]

*She picks up her journal from off the desk.  Brushes a bit of dust from the cover before clicking open the latch.  She slowly turns through the pages reflecting upon several of the entries that she has made.  Upon arriving at the last entry she returns the now open book to the desk and takes a seat at the desk.  She withdrawls her hood and for a brief moment relaxes.  Chanda then reaches for the raven quill, dips it in the ink and begins to write.*

My entries come less often than they use to.  Events that once seemed extraordinary now barely tickle my interest.  I remember my first encounter with a creature of the planes, I shook with fear ... fear ... weakness.  To think that now I laugh at those very same creatures and command them by my will.  Oh the follies of youth, the carefree, wreckless attitude that is often exhibited.  Where are those that I once knew ... where are those with whom I once strived.  

*** this entry seems to have ended abruptly as if the thoughts that were written left as soon as they were written. The journal continues a bit further down the page, she has left a bit of space between these two entries. ***

I waited by the boat landing, the letter said to meet him their.  Would the rumors be true?  The Forsaken Isles are said to leave their mark upon those who find them.  The greatest of the undead are said to walk the islands.  Even the mighty Rufus Coldfinger seemed to hesitate at mentioning those isles.  I should have been their with them, I would have been their if that wretched captain would have set sail like I told him to.  The spineless blob refused to sail into the storm and thus I arrived too late to meet Rufus before the ship sailed.  

Several hours passed before I saw the dark man approach, the outline was that of Rufus yet he was not the man that I have come to know.  Old he seemed, sucken of shoulder, like one that has long carried a burden greater than most can carry.  As he approached I realized that I was not alone.  A familiar chortle told me that Tath was also near.  Tath came into my vision and I realized that he too seemed different, besides the ring which he wore.  

With a heavy sigh Rufus exchanged greetings with the two of us.  He began to tell the tale of his latest adventure, perhaps even his greatest.  He spoke of an old teacher and another Black Wizard named Cibus.  I have never seen Rufus as I saw him this day.  The wizard that is above everything, he who lets nothing stand in his way seemed at this time to me a man knotted and confused.  His teacher is no more, yet he has discovered what the Black Wizards asked of him.  I fiind it hard to comprehend why he is torn.  He has received that which he has asked for, he knows that much must be risked to achieve the greatest of power.  He swears his vengence on Cibus for the death of his master.  When this Cibus could not hope to defeat Rufus he stuck at the place that he knew would cause Rufus the greatest of pain.  So I wonder who indeed is the victor of the Black Wizard's test?

Three choices seem to lie before the mage Coldfinger.  The first, continue the task of the Black Wizard's, give them the secrets of the Forsaken Isles and bask in the gifts they would give him.  Yet, he has sworn the death of another Black Wizard, to complete this oath will not set well with the Black Wizards.  The second, kill Cibus, keep the secrets of the Forsaken Isles secret and remain loyal to the one true Master that Rufus owes loyalty to ... Corath.  The third, repent of his crimes against the Lucindites by returning the rings he stole from them, in return they have offered him a place upon the council.  Yet this final choice would put the most enemies set against him.

Could I be an enemy to Rufus Coldfinger?  He that has given the most to me, he that took me under his wing that I might have the protection I needed to begin my work.  Could I really be set against him?  Could I put the final dagger into him that sends his soul fleeing from his mortal bonds?  Only one choice will lead him to continue down the road at my side.  For I have known for sometime that the goals of the Black Wizards are no longer the goals of Lord Corath.  How would I choose ... which path would I take if the choices were before me?

*** The next entry seems to have been written before the previous entry was complete.  Several smudge marks reveal this. ***

For the last fortnight a dream has haunted my sleep.  I see a figure shroud in ink black burial garments, his face is masked by the hood that he wears.  It calls me by name, and yet I know not who it is.  The voice is familiar and I know that I should know to whom it belongs.  I turn to approach the vissage, yet he retreats back into the shadows.  The closer I come the further it seems he resends.  Who is this faceless image that calls to me?

I have sought out the aid of Matilda.  Only a sister of my blood can truely aid me in the understanding of this dream.  I related the dream to her as she shuffled her deck of cards.  Three cards I pulled from her deck and she placed them face down upon the rug.  She said each of these spoke of Past, Present, and Future.  These cards would relate to my dream and aid my understanding.  The first card she turned ... the Queen of Swords inverted ... she said this represented a decietful, mysterious woman, she said this card represented me.  The figure and I once shaired a past partnership or oath.  The card of the present she turned to reveal the Hermit inverted.  She said this vissage now wanders alone in its existence, the partnership we once held has be completely broken.  He now wanders without direction or hope.  The future card revealed the Five of Pentagrams.  She said this speaks that this vissage without aid will fade and be lost forever.  She said that since I turn to follow him in my dream, on a subconscious level I must want to aid him.  

What does all this mean?  Who from my past has returned?  The Queen of Swords, the Hermit, and the Five of Pentagrams ... what are they telling me.  I will ask my Lord to aid me in this understanding.  While all others fade, he will not.

[Aragon]

I must say that the events of this day have brought much satisfaction to me.  For it is not often that one has the oppurtunity to so dramatically change the balance of the cosmos.  The choice of Rufus has brought to him much praise and reknown, if that reknown is only amongst a select few.  Mind you that these few have more power themselves than three-quarters of the inhabitants of Layonara.  

I met up with Rufus, Ramanon, and Tath at the inn of Arabel.  It seemed that Rufus had made his decision as to which path he would take.  He was determined to set a course across the unforgiving expanse of Xantil.  There I saw creatures that amazed me, which in of itself is hard to do seeing as how I have myself commanded demons and devils.  Yet these creatures were some of the greatest of beasts and infernals that are known to sages.  Great Balor Princes, and Gelugons of immense power, Giants that weilded clubs the size of small trees.  We made are journey through forest and over river, across large chasims and cliffs.  And then we saw it, towering over the trees, a great black tower.  It reached far into the sky and around the top of the tower there was large forboding black clouds.  The Black Tower of the Black Wizards.  

Long have I known of Rufus' affliation with this group.  Though never before had he asked me to journey with him to this place.  We waited at the base of the steps as a climbed his way up and entered into the tower.  Several minutes passed before a voice spoke to us telling us to enter and wait in the foyer.  Hours passed as we waited in the foyer.  I could feel a great energy all around me ... a black feeling ... almost as if Corath himself were passing over this tower.  These feelings lasted only a few minutes but would return every so often.  After this continued for sometime, Rufus emerged from his meeting with the Grandmaster of the Black Wizards.  We were bade to follow the dark man up a long series of stairs.  When we finally reached the top we passed through a set of doors into a large dark chamber.

Instantly I knew what the source of my feelings were.  We were in a large room and there in the center was a man impaled upon a spear with two other Wizards standing near.  At the head of the ritual was the blackest of blackness.  There was no doubt the source of the feelings, only once before had I felt this same feeling and it was in the pressence of the Black Sun.  I feel to my knees in submission to my Lord, all the time praising his dark and unholy name.  The third wizard joined them around the sacrifice and began their parts of the ritual.  Darkness swirled around me and nearly overcame me.  Feelings of hatred, murder and deciet ... exuberant to my soul it was.  Then as quickly as the ritual started it ended.  The darkness consumed the flesh of the man and his skin seemed to rot and fall off his skull and bones.  The Black Sun went to the skull and brought it to Rufus.  "The skull of thy enemy, the means of our power.  Place these three vials of blood in the skull and it will bring the failed pool of Storan under our power."  At the same time one of the Grandmasters produced three vials of their blood.  There would be no room for failure, but sucess would grant blessings beyond mortal comprehension.

We returned to Mistone with our task at hand.  We found Storan knew of our arrival and invited us to speak with him.  We stood their as his minions circled around us.  Perhaps it was what they sensed in Tath and Rufus that kept them at bay or merely the will of their master.  Storan sought a means to end his curse, promising great shared power with Rufus if he would place the blood of Storan in the failed blood pool instead of that of one of the mages.  To promise such a task was the only way Storan would show us the path into the chamber.  We agreed to his terms and journied below.

The stone steps echoed beneath our feet, the chamber was heated by a river of lava that flowed through it.  This chamber bore the signs of fighting and torture at every passage turn.  We emerged around one such turn to see the blood pool come into view.  The blood pool clear had not held its contents for quite sometime, great cracks ran along the sides of the basin and a stain of dried blood was along its base.  Though time had taken its toll upon the pool it still would hold enough liquid for us to perform our task.  We approached the basin and Rufus began to follow the instructions given him.  I watched him pour out the vials into the skull, instantly the blood began to boil, I knew something was amiss.  I rushed to his side and commanded him to stop and hold the skull out.  The words which came next seemed to flow through me and out of my mouth, as if they were spoken not by me but by my Lord Corath.  These are the words I uttered:

"Oh mighty Dark One in thy name we do thy will, let this blood and this skull grant thee power, let thy seeds of darkness go forth.  I envoke thy blessing upon this ritual, I envoke thy power into this place, I envoke thy Name upon this skull and this blood."

With that the boiling stopped.  Rufus placed the skull in the blood pool.  The floor began to quake and shake, the pool turned a bright red and acted as if if was going to explode.  With a flash of light the air and fog around the pool began to pull at our essence ... our very souls.  We fled instantly, even as a feeling of being watched came over us.  It wasn't until latter that Rufus said he had for a brief instant seen Bloodstone.  The blood pool was now back in use, and at the power of Lord Corath.

We made our way once more across the sea to the black tower.  There our deeds were once more recounted to the Black Wizards and Rufus was given his reward.  Master Rufus Coldfinger of the Black Wizards.  Those robes he now wears are more than just the cloth they are made of, they strike fear into the hearts of all who behold them.  The power of Lord Corath was increase 1000 fold this day.  And what is more, I know longer fear the rumors of a seperation of belief within the ranks of the Black Wizards.  For the Black Sun, avatar of Lord Corath, Speaker with the Unholy Tongue, would not come to a place not fully devoted to the Mad God.  

Even as the ritual that they performed was acted with both divine and arcane power, even so was the blood pool converted to Lord Corath.  Arcane and Divine togethor ... the darkness of these two forces combined.  Let all the world now sleep an uneasy peace ... they will soon know of our actions and the strengthening of Lord Corath.

[Aragon]

Sometimes I even amuse myself at the chaos I amass and create.  I was feeling most rambunctious this day, bottled up mischief waiting to be unleashed upon the residents of Hlint.  I started with a rather interesting interpretation and persuasion of a dumb orc.  I convinced him that Fraile owed him an apology for running into him.  I then proceeded to fill his eager mind full of lies pertaining to Fraile.  I painted a picture in his mind of her as a baby killer, a murderer of orc children.  My words I whispered upon his mind filling it will my deceitful words.  I need not see action from these words; the mere doubt I placed in his mind is pleasure enough.

Soon there after, I was entreated by a woman claiming to seek necromantic instruction.  She claimed to know of my intentions and my endeavors.  The worthless maggot, even to call her a maggot is an insult to the maggot itself.  I despise those who think to know of me.  Who can know the darkness or the swirling vortex of chaos?  To use my blade upon her and end her existence is too merciful.  And what is more Ramanon thinks to take her on as an apprentice.  She will rue the day she met me, her arrogance and her disrespectful tongue shall be her end.

After leaving Ramanon to his maggot, I happened upon my Sister, Matilda.  Once again my confused Blood has strayed from the path of our Lord.  She now claims the Paladinic Order of Lucinda.  Tsk tsk ... my Sister, though she may claim no ties to the darkness, she is yet bound to it.  Words and fancy clothing can not cover the darkness that envelops her.  She will return to me ... though she may forget the Blood Oath she swore, I have not … nor has the Dark One.  I have devised a plan to see that she does not lose sight of what she truly is.  I have enlisted the aid of Ramanon and the hand that he bears.  He shall entreat Serenity with the promise of its destruction for a small price ... Matilda.  She will be banished from the church ... never to be accepted into it anymore.  She will have no choice but return to the only ones that truly have desired her.

[Aragon]

*brushes off the dusty tome then taking the raven feather quill she dips it into the black ink and begins to write*

Too long have we sat idly by watching the comings and goings of these insolent drones.  They have forgotten who we are.  Perhaps they think we have wasted away into nothingness.  A simple passing craze or haulcination, that is what they think.  We have nothing to worry about those Corathites they no longer plague us.  Deathmongers that have gotten what they sought.  They laugh at the name of Corath.  A mere punchline over a stein of ale.  Perhaps it is time that we show them that the darkness lingers and though they have bought themselves time agianst the threat of Blood and his legions, they have over looked the cancerous tumor that has dwelled quietly under their noses.

Fast approaches the apointed hour of sacrifice; the hour we shall call down the power of Lord Corath and set his will lose upon this land.  Lord Corath shall have his sacrifice and I know whos blood shall be shed.  That lurking weakling, too long has he circled the city blazing his sheild and sword.  We shall see if his courage is stronger than the tin suit he adorns himself in.  *pauses a moment to laugh*  I can even now see the reaction on their faces when they gaze upon the head of him who they look to for protection.  They will cower into their homes and throw the latch.  Fathers shall watch the whole night through, Mothers will clutch their children tightly and none shall rest easily that night.  Our coming shall be as a cold blast of wind that chills to the bone yet fire shall not warm.  Then from far off they will hear the steady drum to which they march.  Monotone and dreary shall they pass, graves shall yeild their entombed; the Dead Lord shall call his children to rise.  Even Mist shall bow to the wishes of my Master and concede her emprisoned.

But a bit longer shall they sleep peacefully ... but a bit longer shall I wait.  Rise ye that have been called to thy Master, rise and obey my summons.  *she closes the journal with a smug resolve and then hurries to prepare the black letters and send them forth*

[Aragon]

*Chanda heavily purs herself into her chair at her desk.  The desk seems to be even more cluttered than usual, mountains of books and scrolls overflow off on to the floor.  With a wave of her arm, even more parchment finds itself upon the floor.  She draws the black tome towards her and reaches for the ink and quill.  With a dip of the ink and a sofly muttered word the book flies open to the next blank page.  She begins to write but her hand is heavy and you breaks the tip of the quill.  In disgust and with a word of curse she flings it aside and reaches for another.  Three quills now lay upon the floor of her dark room before any words appear on this page.*

*ink blot* *ink blot* *ink blot*
She conspires agianst me in every way.  Do the dark souls of the servants of the Mad God, appease her appetite?  Are our souls more filling to her?  It seems that Mist has sought her payment for future services of Lord Corath.  Mist and the Soul Mother be damned!  *glances over at the tomb which contains the outward shell that once was Tamera Jarden*

Just when our hour of return was to be pronounced, and darkness to consume the night.  I am not sure what vexes me more, that the Soul Mother has claimed another or that Tamera now has more power than I.  Yet even this corspe will not go to waste, I have begone the process of preservation of her body.  Soon I will complete the ritual and raise her once more to the service of this cult.  She will serve as quite a deterent to any that should stumble upon the temple grounds.

*stops to hold up an emerald that was in the pocket of Tamera, gazes into it as the green refraction dances upon her face*  Yes Tamera even in death you will serve this cult well.  *places the emerald back upon the desk and with another whisper the tome slams shut.*

[Aragon]

*Chanda sits down at her desk and flips open the black skin covered journal.  Thumbing through the pages she arrives at the next blank page in the book.  She reaches into her pocket and produces a golden ankh on a chain.  She looks at it a moment and laughs outloud as she tosses it upon the desk*

I must say, he was brave, seeing as how he was outnumbered three to one.  Yet bravery and crazy walk a fine line.  But who did he think he was, challenging me, demanding that I not pass, me a Priestess of Corath.  He should have known better.  He fell to the sword, yet the look on his face was priceless as I slit his throat.  Watching the last breath of life pass over his lips did bring much pleasure.  I consumed a portion of his flesh in the Mad God's name.  And what is more to see the thrill and excitment upon the faces of Sabel and Czukay at his death brings much promise for these two.

A golden ankh tied to a golden chain around his neck.  Though I did not need see the Toranite holy symbol to know who he was.  I fear not any retrobution that the church of crazied heretics may seek.  Besides, I can always put the blame on my underlings should things go amiss.  May he walk endlessly upon the Plane of Shadows devoid of rest, a creature of the darkness.  All praises to the Dark Lord for deeming me worthy to end the existence of a worthless Paladin of Toran.

[Aragon]

*Chanda takes the bound tome, whipes off some of the dust that dimishes the blackness of the book.  She leafs through the yellowing pages to the next blank page.  Dipping her raven feather quill into some ink she begins to scratch the following entry in her journal*

The temple is complete.  All the suffering and saving has been worth it.  Once more there stands a center of darkness upon this continent of Mistone.  Once more his blackness will issue forth to corrupt and overcome the people of this land.  The location of the temple is only known to the worthy.  I have established a lose treaty between the local inhabitants; the treaty is simple really I will have the land where the temple resides and they will keep adventurers away.  Fear is a powerful motivator of the weak of mind.  The time soon approaches for the dedication of the temple, the construction of the temple has been a great price both monetarily and at the cost of followers.  

I was discussing our plans for the dedication of the temple with Ramanon when an icy cold chill filled the room.  A chill the likes of which I have only experienced a few times before, and then only in the pressence of the Black Sun.  Darkness filled the room and a shadow appeared moving in the darkness.  Even before he bid us kneel I was upon my knees.  His words filled the chamber and echoed throughout the temple.  "Behold Priestess the price of failure."  He approached Ramanon and placed his hand firmly upon Ramanon's forehead.  His hand glowed red consuming the soul of Ramanon.  Screams of pain and anguish eminated from the frame of the mage, as his body was now glowing red.  I watched the work of the Black Sun for what seemed like ages but was only seconds.  When he had finished all that remained of Ramanon was a smoldering pile of ash and the clothes with which he use to be dressed.  His Unholiness turned to me and repeated the words again, "Behold Priestess the price of failure."  He stepped back into the darkness and was gone.  There will be no marker errected for Ramanon, failure is not rewarded nor is it honored.

This past night once again I have been found worthy to stand in the pressence of the Avatar of Corath.  I was wandering the forests of Seilwood when the dark mark appeared all around me.  The darkness, the icy cold filled the air, I noticed the dark outline of a familiar persona.  He commanded me to kneel and then his raspy, harsh voice filled the forest.  "Priestess, my power shall soon arise.  The Mother searches and will likely fail.  That will be the time to strike, do not fail me."  He promptly departed but his pressence once more overcame me and a fainted from the loss of blood.  The darkness swirled around me as I faided in and out of consciousness.  I heard voices, were they His voice or the voice of another.  I awoke a few hours before dawn to find myself surrounded by a group of people in the house of the Witch of Seilwood.  My mind had returned enough to know that I must not wait anylonger in these woods.  I fled from their and immediately found Cassandra waiting upon a hill outside of Hlint.  She aided me back to the safe house, my state still weakened from the events of earlier that night.  Cassandra had news, she spoke of the Skull suddenly moving in the sky about midnight this past night.  The Skull arises.

*Sets the quill done then promptly repicks it up and writes the following*

I have recorded the prophecy of the Black Sun upon a scroll and sent it to the Library for furture study on my part.  There will be no fail in our attack.

[orth]

Bumping this for Aragon to see it, still working out the pagination issues.

[Aragon]

*takes the journal flips though it and arrives at the next blank page.  She dips the quill into her ink and begins*

I must say I am rather pleased with the developments of late.  It is not hard to see why Hlint will fall to the armies of Blood.  When they consistently are plagued by fools who would be heroes, the end is inevitable.  Take that "guide" of A'zatta, he didn't even know what his traitorous goddess stood for.  He believed me when I said she was a traitor and a theif.  But when he decided to show is true brain power by spitting upon me ... I showed him the end of my blade.  It wasn't much of a challenge really, I didn't even break a sweat.  Nor will Blood when he moves his legions forward.

Then there is the cleric of Ilsare, Vestlyn, you would think these fools would have more common sense than to insult a High Priestess of Corath ... or of any faith for that matter.  Yet he choose to insult me and ridicule the Dark One openly in public.  Tsk ... tsk ... that was a mistake Vestlyn for such an act is not tolerated.  It happened that this event occured while I was on my way to a meeting with some business associates.  It turns out that the one who delievered the gift from Pyrotechron to the temple happens to have worked for the Nameless One in the past.  Much to my surprise and pleasure I ensure you.  I enlisted their "talents" to invite Vestlyn to my guest room.  Unfortunately those fools were followed and the elf escaped before I could have her killed.  But I sent the two Pyrotechrons to chase her down.  What ensued was the imprisonment of three Pyrotechrons.  It seems Michealous wasnt' going to let his comrades go down without a fight.  All three were imprisoned in Velensk by no less than Garent.  I hear tell that they escaped and are currently wanted.  Their escape only adds to the rumor and alibi for Corath.

******

I met with Rufus to discuss the events that have transpired since we last met.  He informed me of Blood's defeat on Rodlem and the ample source of recruits I would find there.  I must leave for Rodlem soon and ensure our new recruits are welcomed.  I informed him of Vestlyn and togethor we devised a plan to transfer Vestlyn to Arabel.  After a short walk to Arabel I presented him to the High Priestess of Death as a token of the loyalty of the west.  She seemed pleased at the gift, who wouldn't be, a priest of Ilsare for her personal uses.  She has promised I will get him back when he is properly indoctinated.  Oh and she consented to a squad of Ravens to aid the defenses of the temple.  That coupled with the bones she gave me will make the start of a most evil army.