First entry since escaping The Tower of Necromancy.
I have been rescued by my old companions, the Shadowguard, but my salvation feels like a curse as well. Each time I look in Gryff’s eyes, I see a man filled with joy and triumph. Indeed, the rest of the guard, with the exception of Ryn, revel in a kind of naïve exuberance that both disgusts me, and makes me envious. No, I do not begrudge their happiness, but I cannot share in it either.
My debts too deep, my heart soured, my spirit broken; Pizentious left me with little of myself intact. The dark powers I witnessed –and aided, weigh heavily upon me. Have I been rescued? The torments of my conscience tell me that perhaps death would have been a happier companion, but Fate has brought me to friends and light again; perhaps there is some good I can yet do.
There are powers rising in Pellioh, and I will do what I can to protect those that call me a friend, and the lands they call home.
I have spent the last weeks pouring through the items we took from Pizentious’ tower of necromancy. While in his service, I often wondered about the old, over-sized scroll that hung in his chamber. Now it seems to portend some terrible prophesy, greater perhaps than Pizentious’ own plans. I do not know if this prophesy is near at-hand, but the mention of the dead king reversing his fortunes makes me wonder about the lost Maramet. We should fear his return, I think, and speed to staunch the evil that seeps into Anathar.