A Dolling Ghost.

I tried to pull my sword out of Reika’s body, but it was lodged in the rock beneath her.  I saw the Bloodletter lying next to her, and in one swift motion I took it by its grip and confronted the man who had taken everything from me.

For his part, he hid his fear well.  He clearly had not expected me to survive my encounter with Reika’s demonically possessed body.  He pulled the neck of his robe open to reveal the yoke and said “You can’t kill me, boy.  Not even the Bloodletter can harm me now.  Consider the position you are in and put that thing down!”

“Then you will not mind if I test it out!”  And with that, I lunged.  He jumped back, avoiding my blow but exposing his lie; the Bloodletter would do just fine. 

My strength was slowly leaking out onto the floor, so I had little time.  The butcher’s bill of his crimes was due, and I would be the cost.  I found new strength in his deception, and lunged at his frail form.  At first I had thought the blade had only pierced some folds in his robes, as there was not the familiar resistance that normally accompanies flesh.  But his halted scream confirmed that the Bloodletter had taken another victim. 

He fell backwards, sliding off the blade and onto the stone floor of the chamber.  Coughing up blood, he looked up at me and tried to speak.

“I have no need of your lies any longer.”  With that, I swung the blade and decapitated his pathetic form.

Drunk with blood loss, I stumbled to the floor next to him, my blood mingling with his in pools around us.  I was quite ready to die there, quite ready for my story to end and perhaps to see Reika once more. 

That is when I saw the yoke.  With each heartbeat, it called out to me.  Each one, like the last ticks of a clock, chiseled away at my thoughts.  I looked at Reika’s sad remains.  I thought of Holger’s brave sacrifice in the cathedral above me. 

I knew then what I must do.  Reika would go home again.  Holger’s family would know how he died.  Both would receive the blessed sleep, and all it would cost me was my eternal soul.

I reached over to Jofridus’ headless corpse, dug my fingers into his chest around the yoke, and tore it off.  I used the last ounce of my strength to place it around my neck, and gasped as the unholy metal knitted and melted into my own flesh.  My heartbeat slowed to a stop, and so too the bleeding.  I writhed in agony as each wound closed itself up. 

I was something different now.

So this book, once a place I went to for enlightenment, now becomes my epitaph.  For whatever the case, whether I am evil or whether I am a coward, Raben is no more.  Perhaps he never existed in the first place.  Maybe he was merely something to comfort me in my blindness.

I shall write no more.  There are others whose bills are due.

And I will be the cost.

Amsel

1^st day, year one.

Easily Locking.

It was Reika.  She sat in the corner of the chamber, her beauty as radiant as ever.  She wore a flowing white dress that laid in crumples around her, a simple garment that still managed to make her look regal. 

I slid to a halt.  The air had been knocked from my lungs, and I dropped my sword at my feet.  I had no time to stop and consider how she had survived the Bloodletter’s kiss, or why she was here now.  All I knew was that a chasm within me seemed suddenly filled, and that I needed to take her in my arms. 

I ran to her, and knelt down before her.  She reached out and took my hand.  My consciousness had been screaming that something was wrong, but it had been drowned out by the cacophony of emotion I was feeling.  As soon as our skin touched, reality finally rammed through the portcullis in my mind.

Her skin was inhumanly warm.  I flinched at her touch, and as I looked into her eyes I saw them change briefly from the misty blue I had come to know to inky blackness and back again.  Whatever this was, it was not Reika.  I withdrew, and the creature looked confused.  As I stood up and retrieved my sword, it began to howl and scream.

It stood up, and blood began to stain the belly of the dress as the wound caused by the Bloodletter opened up again.  It clawed at the soaked cloth until the wound was revealed, but this time it was ringed with teeth as a snakelike tongue lashed out from it.

The thing’s eyes began to glow like stars, and its teeth grew and sharpened as it assumed its true form.  Its elongated fingers ended in claws the size of spearheads, and its screech grew to a painful level.

Jofridus’ revenge had backfired.  This profane abuse of Reika’s remains had given me a strength I had never known.  For better or for worse, I was not the Raben he had last seen. 

I swore an oath as I charged the thing, and it parried my blow with a sword of its own – the Bloodletter.  The last time I met this cursed bit of metal in battle, I had to change my tactics in order to avoid its eternal wound.  This time, I had no such misgivings.  There is nothing quite as powerful as having nothing to lose.

My attack was a thunderstorm of swinging blades as I took all the anger over Reika’s murder, as well as Jofridus’ betrayal, and focused every ounce of it on my silver sword.  The thing fought like a snake, darting and weaving, but no amount of agility would keep me from my purpose.  The sound of my heartbeat was throbbing in my ears as I let out a battle cry and pounced on the vile creature, driving my blade through its chest and into the stone underneath it.

It let out a shrill cry, and began to twitch and writhe as it slowly turned back into Reika’s body.  Its head jerked up and locked eyes with me, and the glimmer of recognition flashed in their blue depths.  As her last breath escaped her lungs, I heard her say it. 

“Thank you.”

I stood up, near-exhausted.  My heartbeat was louder than ever, and I realized it was due to the cuts I had received from the cursed blade.  I looked down and saw each one pulse with every beat of my heart, pumping forth blood.  I began to feel dizzy, but then I remembered why I was there: Jofridus.

Herbal Grove

111^th of Hunter’s Moon, 719

My hands are cold, and I find writing to be more difficult, but I must chronicle my meeting with Jofridus.

We came upon the cathedral at dusk, and said our farewells.  Holger was very calm for someone who was about to meet his fate.  When and how we will die is a question that looms over us from birth, and perhaps finally having the answer was liberating for him.  It certainly was for me.

I hid in a nearby wood and watched him make his slow way to the cathedral steps.  He looked over his shoulder at me only once, and smiled.  As hard as it was for me to pity his soon-to-be victims, I had to pity the man as well.  He was kind, good and just.  And this world took those from him and more. 

As soon as the sun dipped out of view, I heard an unholy growl, followed by screams and shouts of orders.  I watched the ground guards rush to the cathedral, and I knew this was my chance.  

With my newly-acquired armor, I passed for just another cathar on his way to securing this holiest of holy grounds.   I found my way to the ash garden, to the stones Reika’s journal had described.  Underneath, the tunnel stretched away into the darkness.

At the end of path was a huge, natural cavern.  I could hear the waterfall, and the air was thick with mist.  Standing in the center of the chamber, next to a rune-carved altar, was Jofridus.

He was alone, and apparently expecting me.  The sword was nowhere in sight, although I would be reunited with it soon enough. 

“I knew you would return, my son.  I have been preparing for it.”

My anger had reached its boiling point.  Calling me his son had ignited a fury inside me, and I drew my sword and charged him.  Nothing could stop me now, no force could keep me from my purpose – none save a familiar voice uttering a single word.

“Raben?”

Willed Notions.

109^th of Hunter’s Moon, 719

We are making haste back to Thraben.  Tonight will be the last night of full moon for this month, and we cannot spend it on the road.  My newfound ally, Holger, travels with me.  He is a man of some means, having been a master silversmith.  His skills were made useless when he was cursed as a werewolf, and now he has taken residence at Elder Rimheit’s hostel.  She is hoping to find a cure.  Hope is the most dangerous of all human emotions.

Our horses have collapsed, and Holger is busy acquiring fresh ones from the local stable.  He has also given me armor and weapons from his own collection.  Now that he has already accepted his mortality, material objects no longer hold sway over him.  A gift only imminent death can give us.

His plan is simple, yet it will no doubt cost the lives of many Cathars.  Men who have fought beside me in battle, brave and fearsome.  I try to muster guilt over their inevitable deaths, yet I cannot seem to stir my heart.  Perhaps it no longer beats.

I hope to find Jofridus tonight.  As dangerous as hope is, I am more dangerous still.

Raben

Barge Fall Inn.

104^th of Hunter’s Moon, 719

Elder Rimheit has made her case.  Make this right, she says.  I know her life has not been easy, which is why such a reductive viewpoint surprises me so.  It is not as simple as making things right.  It never is.

What would she have me do?  Expose Jofridus for the demon-worshipping traitor that he is?  Grab him by his ear and drag him to the Lunarch himself?  News of this treachery would likely do more damage than good.  If the church’s name were to be sullied, so many innocents would suffer the consequences.  Whether Avacyn is real or not, the idea of her is all that is keeping humanity alive.

She wants justice.  Justice for the church, for Reika, for her poor young daughter Elsi.  I haven’t the heart to tell her the truth; there is no justice.  Nothing can make the death of a little girl right.  No debt can be repaid that will even the balance.  Hang a man, desecrate his corpse, enslave his spirit – will that erase his wrongs? 

Justice exists only as an idea that makes the blind masses feel safe. 

The only true law is that of costs.  Cold, brutal economics.  A man can steal as much bread as he wants, as long as he is willing to pay the price in pain and time.  Murder is not evil, it is merely expensive.

By this account, Jofridus is much in debt.  And soon I will collect.

Raben

Treasurer Kin.

103^rd of Hunter’s Moon, 719

Ereschstag, the town of Elder Rimheit’s parish, was a short ride on a stolen horse.  I never thought I would be chronicling my own crimes, yet once this is over I will gladly hand over the evidence of my sins and pay the price.  It is the only way I can redeem my name.

I found the church easily enough, as a group of pilgrims were marching in slow progression towards it.  I fell in line with them, and walked that lonely walk that is only possible when surrounded by strangers.  Twilight was taking over as the sun lost yet another battle with the moon.

To my surprise, the procession turned just before it was about to ascend the church’s steps, instead filing into a gated opening leading to the catacombs underneath.  A strange custom of Kessig, was all I thought upon entering.

I heard a metal clanking sound ahead of me, and that was when I noticed that the catacombs had been refitted to form some sort of prison.  Stranger still, this sullen congregation had begun locking themselves in, one per cell. 

So much twisted reality had assaulted my brain over the past few days that I can never be sure if I am dreaming or not.  It was then that one of the self-imposed prisoners spoke.

“You don’t belong here.  I suggest you leave – for your own sake!”

Just then I heard the unmistakable sound of stone grinding on stone, and I looked down the ragged hallway to see a heavy door rolling into place.  I started to run, but it was futile.  I would soon learn the nature of this charnel house.

It started as an agonizing scream.  The people in the cells began to twitch and convulse, as gurgling noises permeated the cavern.  The man who had warned me was now staring intently at me, as the body around his eyes began to twist and contort.

The sickly sound of ligament being torn and flesh being stretched was unbearable.  As disgusting as it was, I could not look away.  I watched as the man’s humble form twisted and bent into that of the werewolf.  The screams and gurgles were soon replaced by howls. 

At every cell, clawed hands slashed at the air, intent on flaying the flesh from my bones.  I had fought these creatures before, but only when the numbers favored us.  Now I was but one piece of meat in a hall of hunters.

The jail bars had clearly been reinforced to contain these things, but I did not know if it would contain their strength at being so close to food. 

I found myself kneeling in prayer.  Perhaps I have not lost all of my faith.

In the morning, the guards that rolled the stone door open greeted me with a blow to the head.

Raben

He row slow fleet.

102^nd of Hunter’s Moon, 719

I have found refuge in a small village in Kessig.  I don’t know its name.  I sold the sword Jofridus had made for me, and I have found room and board above a stable.  

It was here that I finally opened Reika’s pack and inspected its contents.  I told myself that I was looking for money, or any item that could aid in my survival, but the truth is that I simply missed her.  Her cloak still smelled of her, like flowers after a rain.  Reika, I failed you so long ago, and only now do I feel the pain of your absence.

Her journal revealed to me a name: Elder Rimheit.  Reika cleary saw her as a mother figure, even though like I she never knew her true roots.  I hope this Rimheit proves to be a true mentor, and not the puppet father I once knew.

Word of my status has not yet reached Kessig, so I must act quickly.  This elder may hear my words differently if she knows I am branded heretic.  But hear my words she must, for Reika’s death cannot go untold.  This woman, whomever she may be, was the closest thing Reika had to a family.  As such, she deserves to mourn Reika as much as I do.  No, I have not earned the right to mourn her yet.

In the morning I shall leave this place and seek out Elder Rimheit.

Raben

Abridge Known.

101^st of Hunter’s Moon, 719

I had thought that my training with the church had lifted me above my criminal upbringing.  Now that I am a fugitive, I have returned to those treacherous ways all too quickly.  Today I have lied, and I have stolen.  We are all fruit that is never very far from the tree.

I fear I must write more of what happened that night in Jofridus’ chambers.  Perhaps a stronger man than I will someday read these words, and he must hear the truth.  I mourn the veil of denial that used to cloak me in its comforting warmth.

After he murdered Reika, Jofridus turned to me with a fervor I had never seen before burning in his eyes.  I was stunned into silence, a shame I carry still.  Reika deserved a better eulogy than that. 

My world was slowly shifting under my feet, I felt as if I could not stand.  My face was wet with tears, and yet a smoldering anger was welling up inside of me.  Jofridus could see it in my face, and he made a move to step between me and Reika’s crumpled body. 

Let her go, he said, let her go and join me.  You can fight for Avacyn for a millennia, for eternity, he said.  He peeled back his vestments to reveal a twisted metal yoke that had burned its way into the flesh around his neck and chest.  I have one for you, he said, all you have to do is take it.  Take it and live forever.

Living for an eternity suddenly seemed like a damnable chore.

No words could find their way across my lips.  I simply turned my back on him.  He shouted for his guards, and declared me heretic.  He said he had proof that I had been worshipping demons underneath the cathedral.  It was this final act of betrayal that left no doubt in my mind that the man I had thought of as my father all these years – the man that had pulled me from the dirt and gave me this life – that man was dead.  In his place was this thing in front of me. 

I realized that there could be no proving my case in Thraben.  The cathedral that I had been named after would be a prison if I was to stay.  I had no choice but to run.  And run is what I have done these past days. 

If there is an Avacyn, may she guide me to justice.

Raben

Eerie Mouth Skit.

101^st of Hunter’s Moon, 719.

Time is not measured by days, but by who we were when it passed us.

I write these words yet I do not know why.  What is the purpose?  All that I know has been an illusion, I have built my house on a pile of stinging salt.

Is this real?  They say the dead dream too.  Perhaps I am dreaming.

If I am dead, then I am haunting these pages with the truth.  If I am alive, the truth will haunt me forever.

Where to begin?  We arrived in Thraben yesterday, and I bade Reika to wait in the narthex while I gave Jofridus the sword.  How strange it is to write his name now.

He touched my brow in blessing, then took the cursed sword and set it on his desk.  I then told him I had far worse news, and that he should hear it from a witness.  I called Reika into Jofridus’ chamber. 

Those were the last minutes of my former life.

She walked through the door, and from the look on her face, I knew that something was terribly wrong.  “YOU!” she shouted, and before I could react, she lunged across the room at Jofridus. 

I expected him to be surprised at this sudden attack, but he looked completely unshaken, as if he expected it.  

“I saw you kill that woman under the cathedral!”  Reika was shaking with anger, as she took Jofridus by the shoulders and began shaking him.  To my astonishment, Jofridus grasped her by the throat and threw her to the ground as if she was made of paper.  How could such an old man display such strength?  I would soon find out.

I made a step to intervene, but it was a step too late.  Reika jumped back up and charged him.  Jofridus calmly removed the sword from its leather wrappings, and thrust it through her belly.

I still do not know if the scream I heard was hers or mine.

I will not write anymore tonight.  I would pray, but I’ve wasted enough breath.

I think I hear them coming.  Perhaps I will let them find me.

Raben

And another?!

I cannot be sure if I am being objective when it comes to Reika.  It is true that she had feelings for me back in our days of training at Elgaud.  I have never admitted before that I had the same feelings.  I only write this now so that my words can be judged alongside the heart that wrote them. 

If I were but a simple thatcher, I could have lived a life with her.

Raben

99^th of Hunter’s Moon, Ava. 719

By Goose Day

It has been  a long two days, but we are on the road to Thraben once more, sword in hand. 

I had explained to Geralf the importance of getting the sword back, and he explained that it must now be in the hands of none other than his sister.  She was an insane necromancer, he explained, and had been terrorizing the moors with her army of undead for years.  He was merely here to stem the tide of her designs and eventually stop her.

Our ally gave us food and shelter, and I admit I have never dined so well in all my days.  I tried to sleep, to rest after the battle at the moors, but my brain was plagued by my failure. 

Last night, we were invited to a feast by our gracious host, and at this feast we would learn the true nature of our benefactor.  We were led into a grand hall, with a long dining table set in the middle of it.  I expected the hall to be filled with the village’s inhabitants, and in the strictest sense of the term, I was correct.  Geralf announced our presence with a flourish, and our would-be dinner companions looked up from their plates.

Each one was a stitched congregation of stolen parts, an arm here, a lip there.  Some had been made to resemble the humans they once were, while others were more grotesque sculptures of flesh, with four arms or twin torsos. 

Geralf beamed with pride, and clearly sought our approval at such a display.  Reika made no noise, but as I glanced at her I could tell we shared the thought: it was time to leave.

I had to decide how to extract ourselves from this ridiculous event without raising this insane man’s ire.  As fate would have it, the decision was made for me.  The windows suddenly shattered, and another dripping horde of undead poured through.

This time, they were accompanied by a woman I could only assume was Geralf’s sister, since she was wielding the Bloodletter and shouting commands to her army.  Once she saw Geralf, her anger took a new focus.

She demanded a book – pointing at the mantle where indeed, a skin-covered book was set, open to a page covered in crimson symbols.  The undead of both sides commenced to battle while the two siblings began to partake in childish bickering over who owns the book.

Reika took this chance to simple walk over and grab the book, dangling it over the fire.  Brother and sister stopped their argument and both let out a shriek that stopped each of their undead armies mid-swing. 

“Give Raben the sword or your precious book will be no more than ashes!”

Perhaps there is hope for Reika yet.

Raben

97^th of Hunter’s Moon, Ava. 719

Agenda Aid

Deposition of Reika Eberhardt

Taken this 98^th of Hunter’s Moon

In the year of Avacyn 719

By Cathar Adept Raben Amsel

It was near the 40^th of Harvest moon back in 716.  I had been sent to Thraben Cathedral after completing my training at Elgaud at the beginning of the year.  I had grown tired of the sterile routine of the place, and I began wandering the grounds at night.

It was on such a night that I noticed a man walking behind one of the ruined statues in the ash garden and not emerge as expected moments later.  I went to the statue and could not find anything suspicious.  I then noticed that the stones at the statue’s base had been moved recently, and it was underneath them that I found the passageway.

The small tunnel went down for a ways, then leveled off and went in a direction that I believed to be straight towards the cathedral.  I crept along cautiously, since the whole place felt cold and unnatural.  When I came to the tunnel’s end, I saw a huge chamber that looked like a natural cave.  I could hear water but I did not see any.

In the center of the chamber, I saw nine men wearing robes.  They were surrounding an altar and chanting in a language I did not understand.  One of them raised a dagger, and brought it down quickly.  I then heard a scream.  I became very frightened and ran out of the cave.

Two nights later I returned.  The men were gone, but I saw the fruits of their labor: several weapons, carved out of a type of silver I have never seen. 

I swear an oath that these are my words, and that they bear the truth.

Reika Eberhardt

Idea Dam

We have finally found respite in this strange land.  I had known the moors to be a dangerous place; but I had not known this first-hand.  My last entry was interrupted by Reika shouting at me, and as I emerged from the caern we had made camp in, I saw why.

We were beset on all sides by every manner of walking dead.  Twisted, vile creatures writhed and moaned as they lurched towards us.  Some had been stitched together to form unholy abominations, while others were just pitiful folk who had not been permitted the blessed sleep.

I had learned how to fight these creatures when I trained at Elgaud, but I had never met them in battle.  Their sad gurgling noises frayed at my nerves, but I summoned my energies and hefted my sword.  I could not tell how many there were, but my training taught me to fight the enemy in front of me before fighting unseen ones.  With a shout, I entered the fray.

I would like to report that I had laid waste to the unbreathing horde, but this was not to be.  I cut many of them down, but their numbers seemed to be ceaseless, for each body I returned to the ground there were three to take its place.

I lost track of Reika, but she had evidently ran back into the caern.  When I finally found her again, she was wielding the bloodletter.  My anger welled up inside of me, but was soon surpassed by awe: the sword was especially effective against the undead.  Whenever its cursed blade touched a zombie, the thing fell to the ground instantly, shriveling up as if the sun had baked it.  Reika cut a gory swath through our enemies, and I have to admit to being struck by her beauty as she waded through the sea of claws and teeth.  Perhaps this is why the vampires would not attack me in Stensia.

My rhapsodic episode would be short lived; for no sooner had I witnessed the gruesome effectiveness of the weapon, than a huge rotting fensnake darted towards her, took the sword in its panoply of teeth and slithered away like lightning.  I felt the ground beneath me shift as the object of my quest disappeared in to the night.

No doubt we would have been overwhelmed, but for the kindness of Geralf, a young man of these parts.  He ran to us waiving a torch, and the undead seemed to be dazzled by his sudden appearance.  He has taken us back to his manor house and given us shelter for the night. 

Father, I fear all of this has been in vain.  I pray that Reika’s knowledge of the blasphemy under Thraben Cathedral will not reach your ears too late. 

Raben

95^th of Hunter’s Moon, Ava. 719

Sketch it lull.

I am on the road once again.  Or I should say, we are on the road.

Last night I found Reika fighting in the pit, just as the innkeeper had described.  I wore my travel attire so as to not arouse suspicion.  I paid my entry fee and sat as Reika made short work of a mountain of a man wielding two hammers.  While it was good to see that my old friend had not forgotten her lessons from Elgaud, the joy of the crowd at this vulgar proceeding left me most unsettled.  There is enough free misery in this world.  To profit from it seems a special sort of blasphemy to me.

Finding her after the fight proved almost futile.  I had to show the pitmaster my patents, and once again set a bargain with an enemy.  I would not disclose his blood-ridden enterprise, and he would permit me to take Reika with me.

Our reunion was one part joy mixed with two parts urgency, for she had much to tell me.  Her revelation spurred me to leave Erdwal immediately, and to take the most direct route possible to Thraben Cathedral.  This route takes us straight through the moors.  Not ideal, but my father must hear what I have heard.

 Reika is calling for me.

Thy above the hoke.

The priest in this church has, I’m afraid, gone quite insane.  He was overly joyed to see me, and he almost fell on his face in an attempt to welcome me to his church.  Apparently he has not gotten a great many visits here.

He fills every moment he can with useless prattle about the gangs, and the vampire menace.  Some people are a drain on the energies, and I must take care not to let him siphon more than he has.

That is not to say that he has been useless.  He was able to start me on my hunt today which has, so far, proven quite fruitful.  The priest directed me to a tavern called “The Wolf’s Head”, complete with the stuffed head of a dog over the bar for effect.  The innkeeper had seen Reika, though he was elusive as to where.  He seemed afraid to tell me the truth, and not even my standing as a Cathar seemed to sway him.

Fortunately - or rather, most unfortunately in the grand scheme of things - those who do not respect the church still respect the coin.  He ushered me to a corner of the tavern, swore me to not reveal him as the source of my information, and then he told me about the pits.

Reika has apparently been captured, and is working off her debts by fighting in the pits for sport.  I felt a strange sort of elation at this knowledge.  I know where she is, and most importantly, I know she is safe.

Woe to the foolhardy pit fighter who would underestimate her!

Raben

93^rd of Hunter’s Moon, Ava. 719

Eats inn wins.

I arrived in Erdwal just past midday.  I rode through the gates on horseback, wearing my Cathar’s tabard with my sword at my side.  I saw the group that had accosted me upon my previous entry, though their leader, Thatu’s thrall, was nowhere to be seen.

Thoughts of Reika plague me.  I cannot help but think that I could have done more to help her avoid the path that she is on.  Perhaps if I had been a more attentive friend.  Perhaps if I had returned her feelings.

In the end, each person’s soul is weighed alone, so I cannot bear hers as well as mine.  She needs no help on the battlefield, so I cannot presume she needed my help before.  But still, am I not here to hold up the worthy to Avacyn?

I shall begin the search in the morning, tonight I seek a cell in the odd structure that passes for a church in this town.

Raben

92^nd of Hunter’s Moon, Ava. 719

Hide fun only.

This sword is a most unnatural object.  I have covered it in a swatch of leather so that there will be no possibility of accidental contact.  The times that I have touched its surface, it felt warm and alive, pulsing with evil energies.

I was severely fatigued after the battle with the creature, but I had the presence of mind to confiscate some of its papers that lay spread out on the table.  I knelt in prayer, thanking Avacyn for my victory, and then walked out as easily as I walked in. I do not pretend to understand these creatures, nor their enigmatic motives, but clearly I have been allowed entry into this realm, and I was allowed out.

I made camp a few hours ago, as the sun rose.  I rifled through the pages I took from Thatu, trying to divine some meaning from their bombastic prose, when a single word leaped off the parchment and pierced my mind: Reika.

She was a fellow initiate at Elgaud, and was dismissed under charges of theft.  I did not believe them at the time, for I had known her to be a gentle soul that was still fierce in battle.  Has she fallen so far?

I must return to Erdwal and find her.  I will give her the benefit of the doubt until I can hear her own account of things.

Raben

87^th of Hunter’s Moon, Ava. 719

Bridges new host.

85th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

A sleepless night followed by a sleepless day.  Last night I met the vampire named Thatu. 

I found his estate to be suspiciously unguarded.  The dust-riddled skeletons of dead vampires surrounded the entrance, their fanged skulls being the only evidence of their former immortality. 

Father, I drew the sword you had made for me.  Its sigils and lines brought a familiar comfort to this unholy place.  My footfalls sounded like the march of a phalanx in the silence that surrounded me, and I was sure I would be beset upon at any moment.

I found him sitting at the end of a long, dark dining gallery, papers and books spread before him.  Had I no knowledge of who he was, I might have taken pity on him.  He seemed so small, sitting all alone in that massive room. 

I could see the blade resting against his golden chair.  Then, as if he could sense me eyeing his treasure, the creature leapt into the air and swung the sword at my chest.

The battle was hard-fought.  I had learned in training that the first cut of a swordfight was the most painful.  It was meant to inure us to the fear of the blade.  I myself have been cut many times in battle.  But now I could not allow even a single slice to get past my defenses. 

His swings were wild and unfocused, and it was then that I realized he was fighting for his dignity, not for his life.  For reasons I still cannot fully understand, this creature wanted me to kill him.  Strangely, this revelation made him less of an enemy to me, but an enemy nonetheless. 

I pray for Avacyn's forgiveness, for I obliged his wish.  As he lay on the tiled floor looking up at me, he said words that haunt me still: "This is the blade that will kill your father.  Bringing it to him will seal his fate!"

Hanger mist.

83rd of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

Encountered a group of Falkenrath Marauders a two nights ago.  I've been travelling by moonlight ever since crossing the border into Stensia, in order to be alert for nocturnal enemies.

A beautiful woman knelt, bleeding, in the middle of the road.  I was suspicious, but the sound of her weeping bade my horse to stop, and I dismounted.  It was then that the trap was sprung.

No less than 9 vampires descended upon from the trees, while the woman's weeping turned to laughter.  I was outmatched and had little recourse but to tell them why I was here.

"My quarrel is with but one of you.  I seek out the Vampire named Thatu, and the blade he carries."

Their jovial faces turned quite serious, and at this I held fears that I had said too much.  A tense moment passed, then the leader nodded to his band and they departed as quickly as they had appeared.  The woman stared at me, wide-eyed until she joined her cohorts in the inky blackness of the forest. 

I do not know if these brigands communicate with each other, but I do know that the rest of my journey to Maalfeld was unhindered.  Tomorrow, I enter Thatu's castle.

Raben

If silver judo.

76th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

A deeper sleep I have never slept, but a sleep filled with frightening dreams I did not understand.  A strangely dressed old man was angry with me.

As I had chronicled yesterday, the leader of the footpads survived our alleyway battle.  I placed a food on his chest as he lay on the cobblestones, and pointed my sword at his neck.  I then demanded the knowledge I sought. 

Not wanting to give too much away, I began by asking about the thatcher, but this was a dead-end.  He had assaulted so many that trying to get the details of one of his victims was futile.  To speak of the cursed blade was too dangerous, especially to this one.  I could justify killing the others, as they had clearly sought to end my life, but to kill this one as he lay in such a position of weakness could not be rectified.  Of course, there was no reason for him to know this.

I pressed my foot into his chest and drew my blade back, intending to knock him unconscious.  He turned his head in anticipation of the blow, and it was then that I saw it: the same mark that had been carved into Pitre's body.  The mark of Thatu.

"Thatu" escaped my lips in pure astonishment, and the man's eyes grew wide with recognition.  Seizing upon the moment, I  said "Thatu sent me."  Another transgression, but I pray a necessary one.

His lips curled in horror, and he finally gave me the information I needed to know.

Thatu has traveled to Stensia, to a place called Maalfeld.  Stensia being a haven for Vampires, it is likely that he is one of them.  The sword must be quite a treasure to his kind.

I left the wretch sleeping off his headache in the alleyway.  May Avacyn show him the way.

Raben

A Draftsman Ink Rotor

Something fell out...

My son Raben,

I hope this letter finds you well. I heard of your victory in Kessig. Yes, many cathars fought at your side. But you were the strategist. The church is truly fortunate to have a warrior of your character and caliber.

I must call on you again, Raben. It's been awhile since I burdened you with a quest, perhaps you thought it was finally over. I know these missions are difficult and lonely. But they are crucial to our cause. It is absolutely necessary that you bring this evil weapon back to the church. As before, you are the only one that I trust with a matter of such delicacy.

The sword is named The Bloodletter. Flesh split by this blade never ceases to bleed, even after death. A demon has his eye on this sword. If he were to obtain it, it would mean the end of our church and our way of life.

Rumors of such a wound have reached my ears. The man's name was Pitre, and he hailed from Hanweir in Gavony. Discover where-and by whom-he was wounded, and follow the trail to The Bloodletter.

May Avacyn be with you on your journey.

Your loving father,

Jofridus

45th of Hunter's Moon, the year of Avacyn 719

Fewer Low.

75th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

I arrived in Erdwal two days ago.  As distasteful as it may have been, I chose to use subterfuge to gain entrance to the town.  Pitre's letters suggested that he had been accosted by thieves upon entrance; I therefore chose to enter on foot, wearing my tabard alone.  To the complacent eye, I appeared to be a simple pilgrim or humble farmer, which is precisely the effect I wished to generate.

I was not disappointed. 

The light of law has too many shadows in this town.  No sooner had I entered that I was stopped by some grimy men wearing ragged uniforms that suggested their original owners had no further need for them. 

I knew their greed would be my ally, so I had fixed a large pack to carry over my shoulder.  Sure enough, this made me quite a target.  They even abandoned their pilfering of a young woman to set their sights on me!  Little victories such as this help feed my hungry soul.

"Halt!" their leader cried out to me.  "Surrender your parcels for inspection!"

I stopped and said nothing.  My silence was a noose that would trap them.  The others surrounded me, and as their leader reached for my kit, I stiffened.  This caused a ripple of fear to course through them, quickly hidden by their nervous laughter.  These rogues were clearly not used to resistance.

"Fine.  To the gaol with this one!"  This is what I wanted; to lure them away from their familiar ground.  I was grabbed by both elbows and pushed down a nearby alleyway.  This was my chance.

Pulling the hidden sword from my robes, I rained blow after blow of righteous fury upon them.  I shall write more tomorrow.  Tonight I shall spend in prayer.

Raben

Trebled Tool.

62nd of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

The members of this village have been most begrudging in their assistance so far.  I suspect this is due to my orders to exhume the poor thatcher, but it is something I have sensed since my arrival.

The only person who seemed to have any idea of where Pitre received his mortal wound was his betrothed, but she has fled the village to join a local monastery.  After some pressure, her father finally allowed me to search her meager possessions.

It was in his letters to her that I have found my next destination: Erdwal, in Nephalia.  Even as I write this, the stable-boy is preparing my horse and the house mother is packing my things.  I haven't a minute to lose, as each that passes cools the trail.

Raben

Ageing Insomnia.

61st of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

A most enlightening day, indeed.

The town, appearing most deserted, was in fact filled with cowering peasants.  I presented my patents to the mayor, a fattened calf named Jurgen.  He eyed the scroll and waxed seals nervously, then relented to their obvious authority.

He then proceeded to stammer out the story of a local thatcher who had returned to the village after a journey, bleeding and near death.  Once he had reached the chapel, he fell dead at its doorstep.

What came next confirmed my suspicions that this was the man I was sent to find.  The mayor led me to the graveyard, where  a grave ringed in red dirt resided.  This blood-soaked grave could only be the final resting place of the man who had been kissed by the blade I seek. 

To the sheer horror of the humble townsfolk, I ordered his body exhumed.  There was much protest, but the power of the church prevailed and the digging commenced.  The work proceeded until dusk, when the worker's shovels at last clanked against wood.

The simple casket was saturated with blood, its timbers nearly falling apart.  Once opened, a bloody tide poured forth, to the screams and gasps of the gathered locals.  Floating within, the headless body of Pitre the Thatcher rested.

Just as Father had told, his wound continued to pump forth blood.  It is no wonder the people of this town feel they are cursed.  After sketching the message that had been carved into his flesh, I had his remains purified by fire.  May Avacyn show him the mercy that this life did not.

Raben

Writing has appeared in the book.

60th of Hunter's Moon, Ava. 719

This book was once a place of solace for me.  A refuge.  Now that its prayers have somehow faded from its pages, I cannot help but think that it is a sign that Avacyn has forsaken me.

My father has sent me on a mission for yet another of the weapons.  I haven't the heart to tell him that each of these quests has proven to be near fatal.  I cannot let him down is it heresy to say that I fear his disappointment more than Avacyn's?

He has given me the name of a village; Hanwier.  After (2? a?) long journey, and a short battle with a band of brigands, I arrived this night to the shuttering of windows and closing of doors.  Whether this place is cursed as its inhabitants believe remains to be seen.  The curse of mistrust is flourishing however.

So this book, once a place I went to for enlightenment, now becomes a place that will hopefully enlighten others.  For I have little doubt that this is my final sortie.  If I do not return, I pray to Avacyn that this book finds its way home.  

Father, if you are reading this, I am sorry for failing you.

Raben

The cards.