Arc will have Order. Chaos must be eliminated. Only through Order will there ever be peace in the lands of Lost Souls. Chaos will be crushed through whatever means possible.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

The Fate of Casmerne

Much progress on the magickal front. I have decided to disregard both my initial fears and conventional wisdom regarding the study of necromancy. While the practice of this art can be somewhat... disconcerting... at first, the power derived from the study of death cannot be denied. And is this not why I came to Ahrikol in the first place? Besides, necromancy is not evil in and of itself.

My studies of these dark tomes have revealed new runic possibilities which appeal to me greatly. For example, let me recount a recent experiment during which I stumbled across the rune "dysamak". In the magickal laboratories deep within Yevath, I built what I call a shadow focus. This focus allows me to shift my physical body, well... sideways, for lack of a better explanation. During initial testing I found that, while I was in a focused state, I could barely be affected by physical means. As my goblin assistants attempted to hit me, I was able to evade their blows in an almost unearthly fashion. During this trial, it suddenly became clear to me that the essence of this magick could be captured in a single rune, a rune I now have permanently inscribed on my ring. Unfortunately, the generation of the dark energies used by the focus require a unique device of my own design which is powered by gnome blood. Vast quantities were required, necessitating the virtual extermination of three gnome villages. I left a few of the tiny children alive so that they may repopulate. Poor little things, I hope they are quick about it. Much work remains.

Speaking of blood, my physical condition has continued to deteriorate. I no longer eat or drink, and my skin has taken on a definite shadowy caste, almost to the point of transparency. I dare not ask Ahrikol about it again. He has been distant of late, evidently involved with plans of his own to rid the world of chaos. Deciding to seek help elsewhere, I sought out the renowned healer Casmerne. This tuatha is (or was.. but I get ahead of myself) legendary for her ability to heal virtually any malady that might befall one, even to the ability of reanimating corpses! I admit this last bit caught my interest from a professional standpoint as well, and I resolved to study her techniques while I sought her help for my illness.

After much travel, I found Casmerne ensconced in comfort in Losthaven. Evidently, healing the sick pays quite well. Still, she seemed genuinely concerned about my condition and was willing to try and reverse it. After much tedious praying and the application of herbs and such, Casmerne determined that what has befallen me is not a disease, not an injury, not a curse. She believed I was dying, probably from my experiments in eskaric magick. I implored her to help me, since my war against the forces of anarchy had only just begun in earnest. After pondering awhile, the tuatha decided to try "reanimating" my already living body, in the hope that it would reverse my condition. She removed a warpstone from a pouch, and grasped it firmly, praying to her god for the necessary power to work her magick. Suddenly, from the sky, instead of the divine light we both were expecting, a voice boomed. "Casmerne, your hubris is too great! Your ego drives you toward the darkness, much like the wretched creature before you. You seek to heal him? He is beyond healing. Heal yourself instead." Suddenly, with an arcane flash, an aura of protection around Casmerne that had I previously overlooked vanished utterly. At almost the same instant, the warpstone delivered its foul energies into her body. I watched in horror (and some amount of fascination) as her body transformed into a parody of what she once was. As she screamed in pain, horns grew from her head and her limbs grew joints where none should be. Her very race seemed to change, growing almost demonic in nature. Instead of beauty, there was deformity; instead of a holy aura, an unholy taint.

I left her there on the floor, howling in pain and anguish, and I resolved never to have dealings with these clerics again. If their gods inflict this much agony on one of their "chosen", I can only imagine the whim that would cause my undoing. If I am to die as a result of my quest for knowledge, it will be whole, and as an Amberite.