The Journal of Lidirian Tavescalas

Dear Journal,

I have created you for one purpose and one purpose alone, to record my thoughts and feelings as I set out on the most important mission for elven kind since Zentheran challenged the Dragon Kings of Ardak Tun. Though I am aware of the grim necessity of my assignment, I cannot help but be filled with wonder about the mysteries I will uncover on my journey. It is with some trepidation that I leave, not only for the mortal danger I am sure to face, but for the matter of leadership. In an attempt to show solidarity, both heirs have chosen one of their pawns to represent them, 000000000 seems to be both wise, friendly, magically talented and quite dishonest about their intentions, while Nelladrie is quiet and stand-offish, I don't know what she wants either, but it more through silence than misdirection.

Dear Journal,

Good tiding indeed, the teleportation ritual went through even better than I expected and it only took a few moments for Ithaen to use her restorative magic to reattach Gemlon's arm. My fellow companions have been remarkably cheerful even with the specter of war overhead, I hope the ease of travel, which I humbly take credit for, has smoothed the potential conflict brewing amongst us. Nelladrie and 0000000 continue to ignore each other, but we humble followers laughed the night away, Gemlon in particular is possessing of a keen wit.

Dear Journal,

We have entered the temple, and I can't help but be struck breathless by the splendor and majesty of the designs, but of course knowing who the Architect is, it should come as no surprise to me. In somewhat darker, though still positive news, a dispute between Nelladrie and 000000000 almost turned to violence, but the two seemed to have made their peace, and it was not though clenched-teeth that such an event happened, but rather through an honest and real love that the two have for each other. I am full of hope.

Dear Journal,

Tragedy fills my soul. Nelladrie has died, a poisoned dart thrown by some trap pierced her side and even Ithaen's magic could do nothing to stop her blood congealing in her throat. We are all shocked, Gemlon performed a moving eulogy and the calm and cool demeanor 000000000 has held for so long has finally cracked and I see a glimpse at a fellow elf mourning and panicking. After all, now that Nelladrie is dead, the burden of leadership lies on the shoulder's of one elf, and the desperate burden of our mission remains crystal clear.

Dear Journal,

The laughs are done, the smiles gone, and Gemlon uses his sword much more than his wit. I knew the stakes, I even knew some of the dangers, but to see them before you, to see the lifeblood flow from one of your companions, someone you've shared meals, laughter and song with changes you. 000000000's leadership qualities are surprising and essential.

Dear Journal,

Gemlon died today. I can't help but feel that there's a monster stalking us. Hunting us, picking us off, killing us elf by elf until there's only this beast left, using us to get through this ancient and mysterious cathedral until it reaches whatever is at its center.

Dear Journal,

00000000 is behind all of it. I write this in a hope that my writing survives me. Ithaen seems to have accepted her fate, but I will not quietly accept my death. Regardless of what happens to me 0000000 will not succeed, it is not just the sake of vengeance and justice that I fight, but for the fate of the Empire and all elvenkind. I will not lose.

Dear Journal,

Ithaen is dead. Her purpose has been fulfilled, but 00000000 still needs me. We have reached the most complex part of the complex, and I'm the only one who can get through. The worst isn't the callous murder of fellow elves, but the casual conversation 00000000 now makes with me.

Dear Journal,

Tomorrow we breach the gates and reach the heart of this place. The Pools of Infinity, the salvation of our people will be the battleground for it's future, magic itself will rend the air of this most sacred of places. Tomorrow I will fight, tomorrow I will die, tomorrow I will save the Empire. Though my upcoming demise does frighten me, it gives me great pleasure to die in such a beautiful place. Dear journal, you will be the only witness to the battle tomorrow.

Dear Journal,

I survive. 000000's ashes have been scattered to the seven winds. But although I survive, it is with great sorrow and bitterness that I return. It is not salvation that I found here. Only the deaths of my companions. All I found in that place, all I know, all I saw, it must be hid. And so I will hide it.

Dear Journal,

This is the last time I shall speak to you. Goodbye, dearest friend.