Galinndan's Legacy Journal B

Tiban

11-6-1859

The Haraldic Library

Excerpt from Golian's Journal
Location: Two miles East of Nassis
Active party members: Avecin, Gheshtal, Golian, Mavrorgi, Theren

Our party, weary and bloodied after our fight with the ensorcelled, death-craving Efreeti within a pocket dimension of the Haraldic Library, decided to move forward. My companions had gained the benefits of a short rest after I cast Catnap upon them, and soothed their wound and minds with my harp, giving some healing and respite, but we were still damaged and no where near to full strength. After defeating numerous undead and floating horrors, we explored the full maze within room one, finding nothing but a few additional wandering monsters. Theren, the only member of our party able to open the doors of the Library, opened each of the other two in turn. In one, we found nothing but bodies – in another, the pale body of a local Bishop.

Here too we discovered the monstrous horror of the Library, a terrible psychic being of tremendous power, that may have been sucking the power out of the souls and creatures within. Knocking one of our party flat for ten rounds with his first blow, we engaged it while fighting off numerous minor minions that surrounded it. A cleverly placed wall of flame blocked its retreat and reinforcements, but all seemed lost when a terrible psychic spell appeared to turn Mav against us. As the maddened light rose in his eyes, a brilliant counterspell cast at the last instant broke the bond, and the horror reeled back in shock! We pressed the attack, and blades and magic missiles brought our foe down at last, burning to a heap of cinders. We bandaged our wounds, respectfully moved the body of the Bishop to the main chamber and continued our research into the mysteries of the Library.

We were confused by the symbols on the doors and how they related to our quest to find a soul to empower Mav's hammer, and learn more about this god of design. In frustration we attempted more contact with random soul jars, with the same effect as before – persons within the pocket dimensions looked at a light on the wall, saw that it was unlit, and hurled us out with psychic damage. We tried different symbols, and to our consternation found that the mazes were the exact same, no different – save the entry for the chamber from which we had removed the Bishop’s body no longer appeared. During discussions, one of the closed doors was blown open by a spell – but a search of that chamber revealed nothing of note as well.

Finally, after much thought, as we sat in the main chamber with weapons and instruments disgruntledly cast beside us, Mav had the brilliant thought that perhaps the symbols were more than designations. He was right! They were maps, showing the locations of the correct soul jar for the name we had chosen within the maze. Once the code was cracked, we quickly assembled the three jars from the three names and made our way to the anvil Mav had found earlier, where he forged the dark rapier Nustangaci for me, granting my earnest plea, with the help of 5,000 gold pieces provided by my friends. I will certainly repay the coffers with treasures I find. With his hammer now empowered and my rapier empowered with the soul of my old Mentor, Mav led us out of the Library, where we answered the amazed questions of the local clerics, assuring them that as long as no one entered the Library, no horrors would emerge, and that all could move forward in peace.

We return to our camp to take stock of our new-found knowledge, and I sit here by the water, writing, more awake than I have ever felt in my life. Energy burns within me, my passions somehow become a tangible force I can feel within my breast. My road has been one of whim and reaction long enough, since my life and family were torn apart almost a year ago – my resolve strengthens, bolstered by the new energy within me. I will no longer be pushed by fate and tide – I will create my fate, forge it with the metal of my soul on the anvil of this mad, dark world. The fisherfolk of the wastes I wandered as a youth had a saying, that saltwater cures all things – be it sweat, tears or the sea. Of shameless sweat I have had plenty, and of private tears I have had enough. My road, now, lies with the sea.