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