142 AC
4th Day of Summer Waning
I am
trapped, and fear that this will be my last journal entry. We came to this
cursed isle seeking treasure and fortune but found only death. The foul beast
from hell has devoured fully half of our party leaving only myself, Arnold, and
Del. Thankfully some lingering enchantment or religious devotion has kept the
beast from entering these ruins. Arnold was slain by a spear trap and Del was
carried off by giant wasps and now only I remain. My wounds will kill me long before
starvation; I feel the course of infection and the effects of blood loss. Even
now I am feverish and struggle to remain lucid. If I could only use Torl’s
wand! I hold salvation in my hand and cannot use it. For all my sorcerous might
I am defeated by a lack of faith. Torl would smugly enjoy the irony if he
hadn’t been devoured by a spawn of hell. Hows that for irony you preachy
bastard?
We
were so sure that the Uthdar Monks were protecting some fantastic treasure
hoarded from the times of plenty before the war. Instead they seem determined
to keep some foul evil contained somewhere below the volcano. There is no
treasure here from their lost order. No mystic knowledge, no items of power. It
was the hellcat that did them in I suspect. The fools didn’t summon it, they
gated it in probably by mistake as far as I can tell from the summoning room
above. Something must be hidden in the room beyond the illusionary wall but I
do not have the skill to find such things and our trapfinder is wasp food.
Was my
life worth it? I’m bleeding out, dying from infection alone on an island in the
middle of nowhere. I have not seen my 30th winter. Oh how I scoffed
at my brother, who ignored his talent with the sword and took up farming.
Married, kids, a boring community of idiots constantly worried about the
weather. It seemed so plain. And yet
what do I to show for all my arrogance and ambition? A poor meal for insects?
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