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Journal of Kethrellen the Red

Author: Kethrellen the Red
Date: unknown
Feast of Creathorne

It was a cold night, last Saturday eve. There was a chill in the air despite the heat that had persisted throughout the day in the spring sun. I drew my tabard round me and waited with the others. It seems as though I have done a lot of waiting these days, since I have wandered into the lands of Chimeron. Still, there was something magical in the air.

It was a momentous occurrence that I alone shared with the sky. I queried my companions. "Did you see it? Did you see the star fall from the sky?" But they mutely shook their heads and went back to the mundane mutterings. 'Twas obviously a portent of the eve to come. And while I knew something epic was to happen, how little did I suspect it would involve a lowly healer like me.

Our quest was to retrieve the sword of a man named Blak. In retrospect it seems appropriate he chose the color of the shadows to represent himself. I joined the group, led by Sir Duncan of Rhiassa and his Lady Fallon, with the thought that its purpose must be a noble one. Had I simply listened to the words of a tortured soul whose essence lies in the burning palm of Garm I would have thought different. Fortunately I have seen the Light. What my eyes have been opened to I can never turn away from.

Entering Gaol, where the sword was to have lain, I encountered my first netherling. My companions spoke of him as "the Gatekeeper", and it was he who told us that for every seven that entered only six could leave. I must admit I was troubled by these words, but the lack of fear in those I was with gave me strength. Into the Abyss we went.

There were few creatures we met, strange as they were. They either spoke in vile curses or not at all. Gaol is strange in that one never dies. Both the minions and my fellow adventurers received mortal blows, yet stood to fight a moment later. I myself received a grievous wound attempting to bind a warrior's leg. I found myself awaken on the ground, the gash on my scalp having healed over and left no scar. This would truly be a wondrous place were it not for its monstrous guardians.

With time we found another gate, this one to the Crossroads. There are details in between but they are of no import compared to the words that follow. Our healer, the other, more powerful one, Daoud, entered. Brave Lucas and Sir Daniel and his squire Shoshana followed. Zeek Mckrye tried as well. Their was naught we could do on the other side but watch as they, one by one, were cut down by a fearsome Death Knight. As the four lay on the rotting earth, their bodies still but their souls still able to speak, a silence fell upon the rest of us. We had not come to this place to leave them behind. The fiend that guarded them, however, was awesome indeed. When Sir Duncan rose to challenge the beast I felt the clutch of fear around my throat. Even the mighty Sir Duncan could not hope to defeat such a creature. Their battle was furious, their motions a blur. Still, the end was predictable. Though he gave a fight worthy of a hundred men, Sir Duncan still fell to the demon's sword.

Anguish washed over us. Surely none among us could hope to defeat this beast. And combat was the only wager it would make. I racked my brain, searching for some deceit to play upon it, but none came.

Then I heard myself speak. I watched myself rise from the ground and approach the vile Death Knight. He, Garm, appeared from the mists. "What do you offer?" he asked, his voice cruel with pleasure at our strife.

"A soul." I heard myself say. "A soul for Sir Duncan to fight the beast again. My soul". Garm's eyebrows peaked with interest. Surely it would have been eternal damnation for me had it not been for Myrrh. Brilliant Myrrh, wise woman and healer, spoke on my behalf. I have to wonder still, if the words that came through her lips were her own, or if she was a vessel as was I.

"Kethrellen wages his soul. In return, Sir Duncan, fully armed and armored, will have another chance to vanquish your pet. If he wins, we all go free. If he loses, you get the healer's soul." Whether impressed by the willingness of a mortal to risk the endless torture he offered or simply greedy for another denizen, Garm agreed. How could he know the Lady watched over us all.

Sir Duncan, his shoulders heavy with the responsibility he now bore, hefted his shield. Myrrh's cleverly worded pact garnered him a mystical armor that shown the faint hue of starlight. A ferocious battle ensued, one that made the tourneys of the day seem like child's play. In the darkness, under the cold, unforgiving light of a full moon, Sir Duncan rose to the challenge. Though the creature was stronger, better armed, and not of this world, he vanquished it.

Much happened between then and when I sought my bed that night. And it was not until I knelt down to untie my boots the essence of the evening struck me. As I looked toward the night sky and spied a resplendent star, ever bright in its glimmer. I realized the eve's circumstance had been Her call to me. Though the choices made was not made by me, I accept them and recognize my place. I am here to serve her. And I must get others to see her brilliance. The Lady Aurora has spoken to me. And I have heard.

Tags: Personal Account, Primary Source, Player Character
Created by Iacob of Ivory (David Kapell) at 12-29-05 07:12 PM
Last Modified by Faelinn Shadowmoon (Leanne Micciche) at 04-05-08 09:49 AM