Tammuz's Journal II

On a porphyry pulpit lies this leather tome, inside a sanctum sanctorum of cyclopean stone. Bereft of believers the place rests in peace, adorned as the book, with creatures of sea.

Writings Post Avalon

This section contains writings from XX11 and beyond. It was started because the wiki limits the text on a page to 200,000 characters. It is a second book, and an extension of the first. Should this journal be found IC by another player, any specific info not in the character background that is desired is availiable upon request. All entries are signed alike. All entries are in a Bazrami dialect of Common except where noted. Some entries are marked {Secret Page}, these pages have been altered with the Secret Page spell, and appear to contain prosaic reflections on daily life in Common.

+An Epic Destiny+

{NOTE-see the Disc page for a word on this special entry}

{<Written In Parselmouth> {Secret Page}}

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Introduction-I (p.1)

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The Difference Between Destiny & Fate

Are we free, or are we in the hands of some transcendental entity? I do not know how free man is, but some of us can choose to follow an epic destiny. It isnt necessary to decide between anything- except between everything or nothing, whether one will or will not.

A fate is simply what happens to you when there is no choice at all, or else the choice is not yours; a destiny is something one has an active hand in fulfilling. It is the opportunity to do something no one else can do. Those who have been given the opportunity can not so easily avoid making the choice, they cannot run, they cannot hide -it will find them again until they are willing to face it and either accept it or put the quietus to it by their own blade. One can either open the way and pass through its many trials and its gates, rise or fall by ones strengths, or close the way forever.

Let me show you a road, let tell you of my own, and let you decide whether you believe in it or not.

I had a dream, but it was not all a dream. It was in no palace nor pleasant pavilion, but a barren place that I was received by a Beryl Beauty. She was of such serpentine grace, and her face had the look of divinity. Her dress was of aphotic smoke and her skin of pale viridescent flame. Her lips were of such full and sanguine virtue, that they did make all others seem starved and cadaverous. Her hungry eyes were entrancing , and seemed to drink ones visage drop by ambrosial drop. And my ears did listen to her wisdom drop by dulcet drop. And yet, from her I had the sense of a predator. Was she loved? Was she feared? By me she was both loved and feared. And so did I become drunk on the both amative and abominable absinthe of her persona.

That was my vision. I have always had mysterious night visitations, but this one, this was the most intense, the most powerful. It was on that first night in mid December when I slept within the city gates for the first time. Nothing makes a man welcome a real bed more than wandering for seven months. After that, I would have it many times more, but the first time stays with me.

As months went by I would exlore my newfound eldritch talents, acquire wealth, and learn much forbidden lore in my travels. I would commit myself to learning two new languages and endure many sleepless nights of research to pen my master work, my magnum opus The Mysterie of Darke Cultes. Now January, I had not prayed in eight months time. I began small rites, and minor offerings to that patron god of Forbidden Lore that I might complete the work-and I did on Febuary 16th. Although I did not put ink to paper for the first time until the middle of December, it had very much been in my mind months before. I would have twelve illuminated copies produced, many of which I would donate or give away-such as when The Great Library was rebuilt. I believe it was with his blessings, that it was possible. Little did I know that so much more was to come. The stage had been set, everything was in place-just how long it was in the making, I cannot fathom, but I know I was meant to be there.

I was meant to be within those city walls.
-The Traitor's Son.

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Demon Days-II (p. 2-4)

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Ill Omens

The morning of April 11th was the Wedding of Tonia Pegason and Gabriel Aldrecen. Champions of Bahamut and Tamara who had courted for months before would now finally be wed. I was not invited, though I considered myself a 'friend'. After what happened? I had wished I had been invited even more. Their wedding and the temple hosting was subject to a large demonic incursion, killing many people and ultimately ending with the kidnapping of Gabriel Aldrecen. I knew immediately this had been planned, I knew some plan had been set in motion. Sadly I was neither there to intervene, or to witness the events myself and record them for posterity. I wondered so intensely where they had taken him-in time I would find out.

Roughly a week later on April 19th there was a sudden mass uprising of the undead, mostly mindless zombies-although there numbers were quite large. In addition they were lead by some flesh golem like abomination that could not have risen on its own, it was clearly deliberately made-although its creators had yet to be discovered. Given what had happened the week before, I immediately associated the events with one another and knew a dark cult or some black religion was at work-but by what name?

A few weeks prior to this there had been an ongoing case of pet killings and then serial murder that went back several weeks, which was finally closed on April 22 when it was linked to cases of demonic possession. A demon had been using a homeless man as a murder weapon killing and butchering animals at first, and then men and women. When some mercenaries defeated the man, whom they believed to simply be deranged down, the people from a neighboring bar gathered at the scene in addition to the authorities.

The whole of the gathering crowd was startled by a loud CRACK as the man's neck snapped, turning almost all the way around. And then…one at a time various individuals suddenly began to sing, each person reciting a partial line, with another nearby person finishing for them as if they all knew the words.

"Half a pound o'-"
"-BACCARAN!"
"Half a pound o'-"
"-TREACLE!"
"That's the way the story-"
"-GOES!"
"Out comes the- "
"-EVIL!"

The last word was completed by the harsh caw of a blackbird perched on the lip of a gutter above them all. It was the same sickening song repeated obsessively by the murderer and with it the demon had shown the people that they had no control over anything, not even themselves. The mercenaries realized they were fighting an enemy that could be anyone or anything, even one of them without warning. It was madness. The mercenaries were not equipped to deal with athreat of this level. The blackbird flew away. Where it or the demon that possed it is unknown, in truth it may have been hunting in the city for years or even decades under a thousand faces -or, it might have been conjurred up, a sign of what was to come. The story is most certainly true and verifiable by the authorities. It is still told nine months later now, and will likely be told for decades.

The Siege

On April 25th total war was upon the city by nightfall. There was a mass surge of demons from portals as well as Shadows and their greater forms. There was an undead uprising as there had been six days before, but on a greater scale by several orders of magnitude. Such were there numbers that there was such disturbed earth from the open graves that the cemetaries became a blight, pockmarking the land they stood on. Wights killed men and women where they stood drawing them into their ranks, Shadows bred shadows, while Nabaasu and Artaaglith commanded the undead. That same night The Great Library was destroyed, in what I believe was an attempt to cut off any source of knowledge. Within the library a number of adventurers and sellswords that had banded together met what looked like a man, whom commanded hundreds of shadows. He told them only that they stood no chance, that they ought to surrender, and that the lord over the armies beset them now was "The Dark One". It is from the testimony of Crank Marten, a warforged that was amongst them that I know this.The people fled seeking refuge in their holy sanctuaries, but the demons had already proven two weeks ago that temples were not safe. Their orders had become rife with cultists, and "brother" turned against brother, and "sister" against sister without warning, performing execution while heads were bowed in prayer or while they slept. The first place the faithful went, they found the enemy, and were slaughtered. On March 7th a druid had been apprehended after running amok with summonings in the City Park swearing the downfall of civilization. It may have been unrelated, or perhaps he had vision or was directly connect with what was to begin barely a month later.

The city fought back valiantly. By dawn the Undercity had been sealed for security, and The Trades and The Palisades had been more or less secured from the undead- but the demons could be anywhere, slipping through cracks in reality. I never saw that dawn, as I had taken into the Abyss, like Gabriel and as it would turn several others I lost contact with in the days leading up until that night. I shall write in brief of what transpired within the Abyss, but first let me recount what happened while I was away.

On May 8th, three days after what would have been my 21st birthday, there was a strong tremor throughout the city. It was felt by all, a unnerving vibration that was strong enough to ring churchbells that still stood. A procession carrying torches lit by blue flames marched in procession up to the arena. I do know what they did, save that it seemed they were trying to conjure up some ancient thing burried deep. Much of the arena collapsed into itself, into the undercity leaving a great pit.

On May 13 a few days later, I understand that Servia Cassius, a cleric and community supporter organized some effort to close the portals and retrieve those of us (including myself) whom had been taken. It failed. Their party was surrounded by many thousands of shadows and shadow demons in The Abyss. When it seemed they would be overtaken a number of warriors came through a portal destroying dozens of them with glorious weapons. One of them raised a blade and whirling it, it made a whistling sound that incompacitated them. When they awoke they were within Servia's manor and she would not speak of who the warriors were. One of their group did not go unconscious and recalls a brilliant light, and a feeling of pure bliss. I am told that for a week or so afterwards, she would lapse into a child like state, reliving her memories of being in her parents arms in hallucinations. It is from Crank Marten's account, that I know this. Six days later another attempt was made, and it succeeded in closing the portals-but as for the rescue it was uneeded as six of us, all but myself had already been freed with the aid of a traitor.

The Return

I would return to the Prime on Jun 5th, 16 days after the siege`s end. The undercity had been unsealed and so I had no trouble leaving my apartment there, but along my ascent to the surface I found much death, destruction, and abject terror on the faces on the citizenry. On Jun 7th there were still scattered reports of activity and minor outbreaks, but not from any further portals, only that which remained crouching in the shadow and hiding in the rubble. By the end of the month all was still-although the people had a hard time accepting that it was peace, and not the silence before a scream, the tense stillness before evil waiting to be done. By the end of the month, order had been restored.

The Siege lasted from April 25th-May 19th
For 24 days the city was under constant attack.
For 24 days everyone prayed, some to survive, many more to die painlessly.

Many prayers went unanswered.
And some of those granted the former, now wish they had been asked the latter.

-The Traitor's Son.

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40 Nights In The Abyss-III (p. 5-7)

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Bordello of Blood

I was gone weeks longer than the others, which roused some suspicion. But in truth, the choice was not mine. Let me write of that time, those 40 Nights in The Abyss*.

(* It was not exactly forty days, but more akin to 42 or 46 in total. I went in after April 19th but before April 25th since I have no personal recollection of the battle itself at all.)

I awoke, bound in bilboes in a stifling hot, lightless, chamber of stone soaked in blood. I tried to sit up to no avail. By my sight-beyond-sight I could see that the bars of the bilboes passed through eye bolts, holding me fast to the floor. My naked skin was againt solid stone, rough and uneven like that of a cavern. Where was I? In what dungeon was I held and what foes had fettered me so? I called out a curse and heard little reverberation; the chamber was smaller than I thought.

"It was in no palace nor pleasant pavilion, but a barren place that I was received…"

And so I waited, sweating in that malebolge. I had no means to count the hours, but I thirsted, hungered, and drifted in and out of restless sleep enough to know that several days went by. It was utterly silent, as quiet as it gets,leaving me with nothing but my thoughts muttered under labored breath. And then there was a crescendo as the sound of silence grew, not the quiet of the tomb, but the tense silence before a sudden gasp of pleasure or a cry of pain. It was the plotting kind of quiet of some evil to be done. And then-she came, out of the dark or perhaps from the dark itself.

"She was of such serpentine grace, and her face had the look of divinity…Her lips were of such full and sanguine virtue, that they did make all others seem starved and cadaverous. Her hungry eyes were entrancing, and seemed to drink ones visage drop by ambrosial drop."

My pulse quickened and my loins stirred, and I quickly forgot all my other hungers and my thirsts, or else they simply went away as if her very prescense was refreshment enough.

Of course, I demanded answers-I had to, albeit she would evade them for the time being. Instead she would try to convince me, that I had in fact murdered my family out of some inborn bloodthirst, that I was a natural born kiler. I inquired as to how she even knew of their death, to which she replied that it was not difficult for her as mortal my thoughts were so open. I had not sensed any mental intrusion, but I also supposed it would not be difficult to learn given the position the deceased and the fact I had been seen fleeing from the watch. She asked what it would take to convince me to kill a man like Lucius Cassius. I had no ill against him, though he was a rival-but he was also Servia's brother. I entertained the idea at least-but no agreement was made. In truth the man himself and many others had been captured, and it was in her words but a "test" to gauge what it would take.

Done with talk she looked me in the eye, and I shuddered as I gazed upon her; not as upon any one woman’s face, but the sum of the feminine ideal made flesh. She told me that she would make use of me in some way or another. The light touch of her fingers upon my chest overwhelmed me with both sensations and images, visions of splendor that were like dreaming awake. And that first touch of her lips upon my own? My heart - no, my very life paused.

What this was? I had been kissed, although only in greeting several times by Servia, and I felt odd about the whole thing for whatever reason. I had been embraced by Cherile unexpectedly, when I related a tale of my past that resonated with her own, and I had felt the warmth of Yuria's hand over his own but this…this was unlike any of that. This was even incomparable to my nights in Shimin's Subterrane. She exhausted me that night and I would awake wanting more, although in very different surroundings.

It was in a decadent hall that I lay upon the sable sheets of a four poster bed. The diaphanous decor was of the finest silks- mostly pellucid pinks and purples, although there was also black, and bloody red. The chamber was dimly lit by scattered sconces. There were braziers, but they burned so much bakhoor and wild Wyssin that the hall was made all the darker and the air almost unbreathable with sweet smoke.

Everything that could be gold was unless it was platinum like the platters laden with daintities from far and wide-even my homeland, as well as some upon which mortals rarely dined like fruit preserved in Liquid Agony and the lees of the wine.

As varied as the faire on the tables, were the concubines who lay pillowed upon the marble floor. For entertainment there were the most exotic women of every race, whom in turn were attended to by eunuchs or else only highly adrogynous men. All of the hall were altered. I had never seen so much flesh marked, painted, tattooed, pierced, or otherwise modified in every way known to mortal kin…and in ways not known to them.

I lost myself for a time, and indulged in all my senses-but I was not all lost. There were many sinister secrets which I picked up upon with careful observation. As well appointed as the chamber was, there were no doors or windows to be found; food and drink seemed to replenish themselves whenever they werent observed and likewise refuse and waste dissapeared without a trace. Not wishing to draw attention, I tried invoking subtle magic not for my defense so much as to gage the passage of the hours by its duration to no avail. I was not become mundane, my magic was not gone; I could still see it my eyes and I feel it there, but it found no freedom nor release. My power was suppressed, and yet it could not be by the typical means there was clearly magic everywhere.

When partaking of the feast I noticed something unnervingly familiar from my research for The Mysterie of Darke Cultes. The Cults of Demogorgan in their rites during their annual The Feast of The Self open the skull and remove a portion of their own brain. This matter is then consumed by a summoned demon and then regurgitated into the celebrants mouth, an event I have not witnessed but read and written of within my work. I recognized a thick spread to be no pâté, but what is known as "bak bon dzhow". Though The Feast of The Self is a ceremonial rite the brain of enemies or sacrifices is often consumed in similar fashion, chiefly among the hafling cannibal cults. The custom has spread to other followers of Demogorgan as well as undead and demons. It is rare that it is not served alongside similar dishes which made me suspect of all the meat.

Later as I lay with a concubine at, the moment of my physical release, I bit into her shoulder. I contemplated whether I had consumed that most forbidden flesh, comparing what I savored before to what I savored then. I bit, and bit hard and came upon an unexpected truth. Though she gave a small cry, she could be no mere masochist. Her skin was as supple as one would expect, but of unnatural resiliance -I could draw no blood, nor leave the slightest mark in her flesh. Demons. I was surrounded by dozens of them. The way the faces of the harem seemed to differ every now and then, I knew to be Maurezhi, thieves of the faces of Men. Like Abyssal ghouls they fed on corpses, but unlike them they could consume their likeness and assume the form of all they'd eaten. What's more their power would grow-but each time they would need to feed upon ever stronger enemies until it drove them to seek powerful foes. How many women did they devour? And what sort of meal would I make, laden with eldritch power?

But all that would change when my hostess would retutn in a few days, and dismiss them all leaving us alone in that place. I asked her where she had been, what she had been doing to which she would only say "Evil things, didnt you know?"

She told me of her master, and while she did not know his plans for the city, she knew of his plans for us. He had gathered the most powerful warriors and mages in the city, with aims of breeding us with them to create great generals for his armies, and then keeping us to train them in our ways. I knew the value of a half- fiend, a native outsider not subject the Law of Umnos as other outsiders were.

In the weeks that followed she would visit me each day to lay with me. I had no want of flesh -save the hunger for vellum. I wanted anything to read but I was denied this and any chance to go "outside" wherever that was except the offer to practice my magic on "live targets"-but for whatever reason, I turned it down.

As I spent time with her, I-the curious demonologist, began to ask more of her life and slowly I began to learn of her feelings and her life as a slave. She had been property of many masters fulfilling their dreams unable to follow any will of her own. I asked again if she had a name, something she had witheld. She had many names-a different name given by every master she was made to serve. They did not have parents, but few of them were free for long before a greater demon or some other being claimed ownership. She explained that many demons lived this way, and that it was not at all uncommon. She said the name the Dark One gave her made men bleed from every orifice, so I asked her what she wanted me to call her. When she told me Evangeline was her favorite name I asked if she would teach the tongue of the other one anyway. She agreed. And so I became her student, though I was not the first to learn The Dark Speech. I grew closer to my teacher, and my lover-and she too, for she said in her time with me she was allowed more freedom than ever had before under the Dark One. Being with me was the most impulsive and selfish she'd been allowed to be in a very long time.

"And my ears did listen to her wisdom drop by dulcet drop. And yet, from her I had the sense of a predator. Was she loved? Was she feared? By me she was both loved and feared. And so did I become drunk on the both amative and abominable absinthe of her persona."

We were together until I was suddenly informed that I had to return to The Prime. It was revealed that my captive compatriots had been freed by some traitor in their midst, and that her master did not wish "my cleric friend" to send anyone after me to threaten their stronghold. We had taken a strong interest in one another, and most especially in the child between us-neither one wanting them to be forced into any life as we both valued freedom above all. She made me promise never lay with another demon, because she wanted me and my seed all to herself -or else she would slay them both to keep it so. Just as easily as I had awoken in the chamber of stone -I was suddenly again in my apartment.

I was free, but my heart was held captive still.
-The Traitor's Son.

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Always Another Evil-IV (p. 8-10)

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The Search Begins

After the Siege I became curious as to what cults if any resided within the city. I had seen many legitimate churches destroyed, but I was sure the dark cults survived. In truth, having formally made my supplication to The Nightmare King-I had to know if one of his temples existed within the city walls. My divinations would find a temple-albeit very different than what I was looking for, and yet exactly what I needed to find although I didnt know it yet.

July 7th two days after returning I would begin my search, and I would discover Urian and the House of Delacourte. Under alias I would several times attempt to start a correspondance. I developed a plan by which I hoped to use Delacourte, being the master or supporter of this temple, to my own ends. The first letter was met with an increase in security, and I knew not how to influence him. I did forge a new plan, although I felt that Evangeline would be the perfect catalyst and yet…we were apart. Still, I could determine just what Delacourtes role was in this, nor whom I was dealing with. Demons? Devils? Something else?

Two Temples Down & Warnings Fallen on Deaf Ears

In the months to follow, I would become drawn into the search for Arcanaethall and the threat of The Devourer, and within the ancient castle Scarwall I would find and despoil a temple of The Dark One. The whole matter would be resolved between August 14-Sept 10, about the span of a moon. In the midst of that crisis largely unknown by the masses, Lady Blacktree-wife of a member of The Ruling Council would suddenly conscript I and a number of mercenaries from the Arcadia Inn on the eve of August 28th. Lingering cultists had been allowed to remain in the city, under the pretense they peacably arrived from without or were converts from within-and were in no way responsible for the actions of their god. As it would turn out they had been quite active, attempting to reclaim one of The Dark One's prisoners (also a member of my former party) and holding the children of The Ruling Council captive. This temple-oddly like that of the Delacourte case, was within a large mansion. After liberating the children and putting quietus to their church the others left, but I kept digging, and negotiated with Lady Blacktree for access to their leader-Gadron Sturik's body. I learned his name but little more. Nonethless, another temple down it was victory enough to me, and my deity had made it possible.

The next week on September 8th, I would make an unexpected trip into The Raging Jungle in search of the Tears of Heaven that would test my faith in an unusual way. I passed through without succumbing to temptation. Returning to my inquiries I would perform many divinations, and then finally on September 15th call outsiders both incorporeal and invisible to serve as spies. The Guecubus, a thing of The King's Court did not covet even a copper when I offered it freedom to do unto others as it pleased. While my Eyes did not return one night, nor ever again I did learn much of their activities. I learned of the great supply of metal being delivered, of the gathering of many coaches on the night of the new moon, and of visitors at all hours of the day. Many cults were gathering, and Delacourte was hosting them all and gaining from each of them. But the cults were restless. It seemed things would become violent and I became concerned for the city. A war between them, even a shadow war would inevitably spill into the streets. Furthermore I was concerned cultists of The Dark One, my great adversary may have found refuge.

A little less than two weeks later, I moved into a home new home on September 26th. I had been living in a basement apartment rented within the undercity. The disrict had been better protected that others, and the place offered more privacy. I perchased it for roughly twenty thousand and added another ten thousand in renovations-primarily concerned with the basement.

For two weeks I sat alone in my newly furbished study, considering to whom and how this ought to be revealed. I have written of the two edged sword of total secrecy before. The authorities? Of course not, the law would require evidence beyond my own hearsay and divine revelations they could not experience. And what of my Eyes? Gone. Probably dead, or at least I would rather think them so-it makes things so much easier. Still, even I had them, I couldnt possibly have an outsider testify-putting aside the fact that I had unlawfully sent someone to enter a private residence to spy on Delacourte. If that was not convincing enough, I would surely be charged myself. Too much of a gamble even for a gambler.

That is when I decided I might try to bring it to the attention of the Holy Warriors. I knew a few paladins and I knew where they convened. On the cool eve of October 10th I found no less than three, all female, at the same table. I tried to inform them of the state of affairs, but much like those who would not speak of the events during the The Great Siege, they would not speak-no, would not accept what was happening. I understand language to be the handmaiden of thought and I know well that even she sometimes recoils from what she sees-but what happen to their conviction? That stubborn kind of will and absolute disdain for wrong, if no against one, then against all? Where was that? One of them even had the nerve to say that I expected a statue on every corner. What I expected was something very different from them. I thought I could count on them. But their passion, their faith, their vows were a joke and they were laughing in the face of a terrible plot with no interest of making it stop. I left them to play out their ignorance, and take their place among those waiting and even craving for own sweet oblivion.

Fools. Idiots all.

Thankfully, I found some measure of interest in White Hawk, more than my intellectual equal and a respectable man I had sortied on more than one ocassion. However he has always been a cautious one, and did not wish to become involved so long as he thought it would remain an internal conflict between the cults Delacourte entertained. I could see the reason in that, but I did trust that it would remain so neatly contained. Still it was better than before.

The next week, on October 19th, I would set sail for one of The Wheelright's Manufacturing Isles. After securing the island I put considerable research into the events that took place their, and detailed my findings in prior writings. I knew something was going, that I was on the verge of some great conspiracy centered within one of Avalon's largest businesses. I was right. On Febuary 5th the Wheelright`s dealings with the Kaorti, and their mass production of mechanized weapons was exposed when hired mercenaries broke into one of their warehouses in the undercity. The Wheelrights feigned ignorance, though I am sure they knew the truth. Rather than answer to any crimes their guild a longstanding monopoly was finally broken up, and they made themselves scarce. This is a very significant event in the Trades where I reside, but the real meaning is totally lost on both the businessmen and the commoners alike.

Firstly, the Wheelrights may have supplied an enemy with the tools of our genocide. Secondly, taken in context of all that has gone on in the last year, I believe we are witnessing the conflux of a great many events. This is one too many threats. It might be that forces have simply decided to take advantage of the The Dark One's failed bid for power. Unwitting pawns and willing knights are being moved about, but by how many hands?

Prince Abigor & The Blood War

At the very end of October, an aquaintance of mine-a little hafling, Abby, would discover her fiendish lineage. Several times she had contact with devils as I understand it, hands of her great-grandfather that tried to bring her to him. Eventually she invited to attend a "party" at which all would be revealed. Somewhere in Nine Hells, Abby learned she was descended from Prince Abigor, a great general who commanded the attention of many great entities-even The Lady of Blades. It was two days later on November 2nd that she told me-but she also had a messege just for me. Prince Abigor "wished me well" in "that Delacourte business". She had no idea what he meant, but I understood full well. What did he know about that? I thanked her for informing me and set about finding out. What I did know was that Abigor headed the campaign against the Abyss on Therafim, and so I reasoned that Demonic cults must have made up all or a large portion of those within the Delacourte estate.

Over the next twenty days I performed more divinations and careful observation on the Delacourte estate, and managed to arrange a meeting on November 22nd at the crossroads a mile south of the city an hour before midnight. At the Southern Cross I met with Abigor's Herald, although I did so through a Pawn procured with creative combination of Eyes of The Zombie and a Listening Coin. I learned that both the Diabolic and Abyssal cults had attempted to seduce Urian Delacourte and gain control of the man and his influential family. The Diabolists however, were ousted and Abigor gave up on the man. The only thing he desired now, was his revenge.

To this end Abigor's Herald granted me-or rather regurgitated what I have come to call The Wages of Sin. This strange artifact is a disc or large coin or token shaped object with strange markings. Its exterior is coated in lead, but this might forceably be removed to reveal something within-I do not know what. The artefact gives off incredibly strong magic, and I have seen mortal men turned away in fear merely by laying eyes on it. I understand at least that it is warded with powerful divine magic, both Blaspheme and Wyrd of Chaos. Indeed had he not spit it up soon, it would have destroyed him from within. I also believe that whatever it contains may in fact be alive in some way. By psychometry or object-reading I was able to divine that it had been forcefully shoved down the devil's throat by another, who in turn had charmed a hafling woman to give it to him, who had recived it from Urian Delacourte himself, who was given the disc by demonic hands. According to the devil, this item was of some great importance to the cultists and might be a key to some mighty ward-and my Eyes had described a similar barrier they could not pass.

What was more, it was revealed to me that before the Diabolists were removed Urian Delacourte had come under demonic possession. An Identify Transgressor divination could not point to the demon that had done this, which I took to mean either that the spell had failed due to some protections, or more likely that there was no one demon, but several that had hold of him. The devil told me that if I continued doing what I was already doing on my own, and managed to remove the cult that though I was not officially hired or contracted, I would still be rewarded in some fashion. I contemplated this, considering the value in protecting my own city and her government, but also the reward I would surely recieve from Delacourte if I exorcised the man, as well as all the things the cultists would bequeath in their unexpected deaths.

I set about informing the six greatest mercenary-warriors I knew, the greatest since the other six that alongside me had been made captives in the Abyss. Unfortunately I could not stir them to action. Not even threat of demonic possession in the noble families or the pain of one man trapped in his own fleshy prison.

-The Traitor's Son

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Vision-V (p. 11-12)

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Sight Beyond Sight

A month or so later, it was December 21st, long after midnight when I made contact again with my Evangeline. I peered into the brackish waters of the holy font, my scrying eye cutting across the veil between worlds. My mouth agape beneath the silken mask, and body shaking in my vestments, I was transfixed by the scene. I saw her held fast in the wicked chains of a Kyton, shivering under his lash. She was more than beautiful, she was all gifted. Even her violated flesh and the blood that sought new freedom were a performance art-more on her part than that of her tormentor, for only she could suffer like that. The barbs and stings made her weep perfect teardrops, bright red blood rubies even against her skin. And then-she looked at me! She turned her head and showed me that angelic face, and smiled. She pursed her lips, kissing at the air and all the interplanar distance between us dissapeared.

"Her lips were of such sanguine virtue, that all others seemed starved and cadaverous."

For a moment I seemed to relive one of those Fourty Nights in The Abyss. There at last was she before my eyes, after being denied her visage- and just as swiftly was the vision gone! The words of a Messege incantation were already on my lips, but I didnt manage to say a word at all. The whole thing was as fleeting and insubstantial as a dream. But it was not all a dream. I of all men knew such things.

Alone in the dark I stumbled back from the font, not shaken but slightly nauseated. Laying on the cold stone and staring up at the ceiling I began to question. Where was she? Hell-but how? No-it could always be the dungeons of her master, he had many servants. Was she there of her own accord? No-no devil would ever engage in a dalliance with her. But that butcher-god that thought himself a schemer! The sly dog would certainly have a devil discipline a demon! Did she take a perverse satisfaction in her punishment? She might. In fact, whatever she got herself into, the reality could be that she could escape from it any time. But how did she know it was me? Did she he? She must have. But what sent it away? Maybe this was quite good, lest another noticed. Or else it was quite bad, maybe it was something else in the chamber-I saw no reaction from the devil himsef. It could even be a simple bout of planar interference, but how could I know? Did I endager her? How could I risk another attempt to see her again? Oh how curisosity thrilled the cat, and killed so many others around him!

I writhed, feeling as though innumerable icy knives danced about in my insides. Black body-breakdown, inner red–ache, violet sorrow-squall, a prismatic spray of colors and sensations. My cold feeling turned to to devil-chills and my tremble grew into a full body-quake. Retching like a demoniac I shook, heaving up something darker than devilfish ink. I was caught in violent squall of fragmented thoughts, rolling in shards of broken glass. She was my Beryl Beauty. My fire- like the viridescense in my very eyes that shines in day or night. And she was burning me, no longer held in the bounds of the hearth or heart. I rent my vestments and wailed as the Wraith in the tomb. After that, I can remember nothing. I know intimately His domain of Dream, but so too do I know Suffering.

In the morning my man servant came to me. They usually do not stay after midnight, except when I am away, but a sudden problem with his apartments forced him to seek lodging elsewhere and I had no problem with giving him a guest room. There was a crash from some unseen place. He was startled from his sleep, and looked about thinking it might have been a thief. There was another crash followed soon after by a peal of cacodaemonical laughter, and then a small but sharp cry as if one were suddenly wounded, followed by long hours of muffled sobbing. He searched for the sound, but did not find the source-though it seemed to come from beneath the floor. It so bothered him that he had to leave and could not bear to stay any longer, and came back after the dawn. He feared that the house had attracted some thing, but I assured him all was well.

Later that day I arranged for another meeting with Abigor's aide-though I did not reveal that I knew of his activities in the marketplace. Through him I questioned Abigor of what-if anything he knew of the whereabouts of a pregnant demoness who among other names was known as Evangeline. I did not say I was cultist of my enemy, The Dark One, but I did say that she was last seen on the Prime and that my recent scrying had placed her somewhere off plane in the hands of a Chain Devil.

I told him that I knew he was highly influential on the Prime and in the Nine Hells, and that he could surely discern whether his own or others of his realm had obtained such a captive-Devils keep such meticulous records. I explained that she belonged to The Dark One and was key in his plans, and that I knew such because I was there in The Dark One's stronghold in The Abyss. The Dark One's cultists had kidnapped a mortal mother pregnant with another of His Half-Fiends a few months ago (although I neglected to mention I had aided in their search and release). What if The Dark One were to learn that this demon had been taken his agents on The Prime? Surely that would not bode well for Abigor, at the very least he would pay a heavy price were it ever to be leared. And would he be free and clear if it became known that he knew her whereabouts or could have aided in her return and chose not to?

One might question the wisdom of making such indirect threats at a Prince, but frankly, it was of the utmost importance to me that I obtain whatever information I could. So important, that I would invoke the name of my enemy. A few days later, I was told that he did know of such a captive-but not in his prisons. He explained that the succubus in question was undergoing disciplinary action and 're-education' for thinking too fondly of me. I was the father of a baby girl. The Dark One had used one of his many favors and networks of contacts to place her in the Chain Devils expert hands. However, Abigor personally knew this devil and he owed Abigor several large debts yet to be called in. Large enough to make the devil "lose" the prisoner in some fashion or another, prefferably in a way that didnt harm is reputation too much and her very much alive and well.

It seemed Abigor had seen through my ruse, and knew my purposes-though if he did, he neither cursed nor complimented me on them. What he did do though, was offer to make her and our child's concrete release replace the otherwise ambiguous "reward" he had offered for carrying out his revenge and shattering the demonic order in House Delacourte. Together we made a binding pact that said he would make it so upon its completion. I now had the means of bringing her home. I had prayed for this ever since I felt her last kiss.

Although I do not have allies in this fight to come, it must be done. Even if I must be prepared to go alone. At the very least though, I know that should I walk within the House of Delacourte I have no fear to tread. And that where I leave footprints in the dusty halls- so too does The Diamond Heel. Let it come down without humanity or hesitation. May it be merciless.

I am Fear.
My Terror be upon them.
-The Traitor's Son.

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In Closing-VI (p. 13)

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Comission

I think I should like to commission a family portrait. Behind me my mother, looking over shoulder, my strength and the origin of my life. On my right hand my consort, my love and the mother of my child. Sitting in my lap, my daughter, my joy and my greatest student. On my opposite hand my stepsister, the one whom they are named after and keeper of Midrashim's memory. And there I am in the old man's chair at the center of all. That is my dream.

But there is something above us all unseen. Something intimately apart of my life that I cannot possibly add to that portrait.

What is the possibility that the greatest tragedy of my life would take me where I've been?
What are the odds I would find the greatest love of my life following a dream?
What are the chances that I would twice humilate my greatest foe?
Uncover a conspiracy that otherwise no one else would know?
And by the act attract the one that could set her free?
By 'accident', searching for the temple of my deity?

It is not the hand of The Dark One that should be feared, that comes down upon us like a hammerfall, but the one that taps us on the shoulder. It is a gentler hand with a lighter, subtler touch that looms above us all. That pulls the most delicate strings, nimbly dances about the fingerholes of the flute, that produces such hideous piping so as to make us dance in sheer madness to its tune. This is The King's hand. The hand that so easily steals the most prized treasure from your hold, and like a thief in the night leaves you dazed and wondering whether anything has been done at all. Born from The Watcher's dream, Father Styx is both a brother and a wayward son of The Lord of Time & Space- it is no great feat to manipulate causality. He has all he requires-and all he requires is that men follow their dreams. In this way all men of renown are lead by his hand, and all are carried in the flow of his stream.

Just as planned.
-The Traitor's Son


The Pyramid & The Sphere

I have come into possession of a Husk Globe, plundered from the literal bowels of the Delacourte estate. A necromantic item I have coveted for some time, but never found the time to search for. Indeed, while I was in The Abyss, I dreamed of having an entire collection of such things and wrote of such ideas.

This husk globe is particularly special, for it dates back to the time of the Ancient Dragon Kings-to whom it belonged. A Second Age artifact, it was stolen from one of them by Reticuli the Glabrezu. For Reticuli it was a valuable source of information to be kept on The Prime when he was in possession of mortal men, as well with which to tempt seekers of ancient lore.

The one who rests within the globe is not of this world. They are a Spell Weaver, no child of Matra, but descendent of some foreign influence in the cosmos. The Weavers are a rail thin, pale, six armed race, humanoid in shape with ash gray skin. They have no hair at all, and large black, almond shaped eyes that dominate the face with a hole for a nose and no mouth to speak of. They are mysterious, and there exists no record of a Weaver ever communication by vocalization, but it is suspected they can communicate telepathically. Those who have attempted to communicate them through such channels however, either receive no reply or are driven insane for several days. Attempts to influence their minds always fail. They are not bestial, but of great intelligence, masters of metamagic and keepers of arcane secrets. Those rare mages who have dueled with weavers have written of how their race is able to cast six spells at once.

The most curious artifact of the Weavers is the Chromatic Disc, a six inch indestructible circle of strange energy that shimmers with all the colors known to men and colors unknown to them. The disc amplifies their spellcasting power, allowing them to cast more spells and more powerful spells. They are coveted by men of Therafim, but all attempts to make the devices work by those not of Weaver blood have resulted in their destruction. Likely some fail safe built in by their creators to ensure that the discs do not fall into the wrong hands. Whether shapechanging or some transmutive magic might circumvent this is untested.

The Weavers motives are unknown, by comparison we can write volumes on the Illithids or other races from The Void. Thankfully, they are a far less sinister-or so it seems. When they do appear, it seems only to steal some magic item. On very rare occasions, a Weaver will actually leave a handwritten note in a tongue a race of Therafim can understand. Tongue only for the message itself is so incomprehensible, it must be the result of lack of basic fluency in any language of this world or else some madness.

The Weaver within has a name, but one which is unpronounceable. It does however answer to the name, Sandra, seeming to be female. Sandra had eight children, whom she last knew to reside within the far reaches of the astral plane keeping libraries filled to the brim with secrets even she does not know about. During the last month of her life, she was imprisoned by one of the Dragon Kings who would later be transmogrified into a Linnorm for his hideous crimes. In the moments before her ritual sacrifice and transition into the husk, she spent her time contacting her friends and family, both to warn them to take protective measures, and to say goodbye. She can speak little of Weaver lore, for she erased as many of her own memories before she came into this state. The ritual to prepare her required much torture, not the crude mutilations and infibulations of the flesh with which you and I are familiar, but rather the sort that leaves no mark, but brings about conditions of the nerve for which there no words-except in the dread the tongues like that of The Dark Speech. She was raped however, for though her form was alien to them, the Dragon Kings younger spawn found her pleasing anyay.

Those within a globe are not alive. Those so entombed in crystal are not as they would were in life, their souls are long gone and all that remains is the husk. A shell based on the full psychic imprints they left behind. The spell key to their creation today is Speak With Dead, which does not allow one to speak to the actual spirit of the deceased. HOWEVER-this one is different. This is not the crude necromancy we have come to know in the modern age, but the ancient necromancy of The Dragon Kings. This is a husk yes, but unlike all others this one also contains the soul the being it once was. It does NOT lament its existence however, for only NOW may it have eternal life. Only NOW may it forever gain, and demonstrate its vast knowledge. Nothing would please it more, and the exquisite pain it endured at the hands of The Dragon Kings was worth it all.

Such an artifact would seem invaluable, older than entire races and all but the most ancient empire of all. No find could be greater for The Father of Forbidden Lore. It is much a source that belongs to him, as a sign of his blessing upon me. However… Sandra is not without her idiosyncrasies. It would seem she will speak of the ancient Dragon Kings, and all their lives, all their trysts and secrets-except those rituals lost to time, let alone their most common arcanum. Its telepathic speech is riddling, and avoids answering such things unless it has been offered some information in exchange. In contrast it is quite willing to share on many other matters, and it seems to have been kept up to date on the state of world affairs up until it came into the hands of Urian Delacourte through his Glabrezu master. The Weavers have strong minds and weak bodies, susceptible to extraordinary pains and pleasures. Her body is still now, inanimate and unreachable. However, there are most ancient means of visiting such sensations upon the soul as the Glabrezu knew, and used to extract whatever he wanted to know. Torture has its merits. But the bonds and time and experience are worth much more, and I do not wish to gain the enmity of her race should ever I be graced with their presence. Instead-I have elected to make her privy to what I know, and make Sandra my Secret Librarian.

Urian Delacourte mentioned a "Pyramid of Darkness" as part of The Dark One's plans for our world. Foolish, FOOLISH hands burned all the accumulated texts concerning it within the bowels of Delacourte's home. I abhor books being put the fire, such knowledge wasted when it could be the best defense against the dark. Thankfully, all of this has only worked to my advantage. Sandra knows ALL concerning the Pyramid of Darkness. I have the collected and annotated volumes as it were, all it one place-while the rest that might have been looted by others is all ashes now.

Sandra knows how to create one.

She will not share such ancient lore however, and speaks of it not in specifics, but only in the general sense. And rightfully so. For as valuable as how to create a Pyramid of Darkness is-more valuable is knowing WHAT it does. When activated a Pyramid of darkness opens a pathway between this universe and another one. Not any plane known to man, but a twisted universe from which purest, vilest EVIL like. No. Other…slowly seeps into this world. The corruption is balanced however by what brilliance enters it from our own. Opening the way will allow the corruption to flow uncontrolled, and poison the hearts and minds of all those in this world. All light, all life, all souls-by darkness would all of them be consumed, never be it slaked. The world and its peoples would become like the denizens of the Abyss and The Nine Hells, and all civilizations would be bathed in a light. Not the light of a golden dawn, but the twilight of civilization before the world becomes one of and tyranny and madness.

All tongues would curse the gods’ names.
And all gods would die.

Urian Delacourte's cult was trying to awaken and bind a Tarrasque left over from The First Dragon war, in addition to calling out to one of the lesser Pyramids. The lesser pyramids can be constructed anywhere, but only function for a number of days. The Greater Pyramid is actually an alignment of five structures at five points across the world. One of the five pyramids must be placed at the far northern of southern pole. Once a Greater Pyramid has been activated, it can only be deactivated by its master, or by destroying all five of the others. Preventing a pyramid from being constructed at the poles, will be key to preventing the operation from succeeding. Within the heart of Darkland is The Tower of The Lidless Eye. It is a massive artifact that contains a telescope which allows the King of Darkland to view any location on Therafim, and because it is a vision enhancement magic that bends light and not a true scrying or divination effect, wards against scrying are ineffective. This artifact could make it possible to search and determine which pole, and exactly where The Greater Pyramid of darkness is being constructed. The key…is how to convince the king to allow anyone else to use it, or how to commandeer it for such purposes.

The Halfling priestess to whom The Wages of Sin once belonged also goes by the name Vena Cait -a courtesan who has been serving Avalon's Council for decades, and all while keeping her good looks. She was apparently serving as Reticuli's plan B-taking the rituals with her-but NOT those rituals to construct another Lesser Pyramid. The Dark One's cult does not have the resources for that. She is a woman that has many names, and many connections in high places-especially political ones, as well as strong Syndicate ties. I do not know her present whereabouts, but if the Tarrasque Awakening is attempted again, it will likely be within Avalon's walls. I am acquainted with Lady Blacktree, wife of the Council's head. The question is-would it be wise to warn her of the Halfling woman? They may have ties with any of the people that such a communication from me to her, or an order from her to others would have to pass through. If any attempt to apprehend them fails-it will be much harder to find them again. Furthermore, The Council let Mercer and Antonia Wheelwright go-EVEN after it was revealed they were dealing in heavy mechanized weapons exclusively with the Kaorti mages who are still in possession of them. How can one trust that council? Then again…seeing as they were so easily charmed out of The Wages of Sin, it might actually be possible to get the rituals away from them.

-The Traitor's Son


Noble Intentions

Nobility. For all of history those wealthy men from families of renown have been movers and shakers, shaping the fate of their societies. Long have I despised them. For though their founders may have been talented men, their sons, and son’s sons-what have they done to earn the prestige afforded them, the respect? What are their exploits? Some of them find their own success, while many others are fops and dandies who have other men manage their affairs for them. In my homeland caste is a great deciding factor of one’s social standing.

I recall how some would show deference to Lucy by calling him 'Lord' Lucius. It is my understanding that he was the last son of a noble family. He and his sister Servia were separated in an accident that destroyed their ancestral home, until they were re-united in Avalon. Ever since, he had been trying to restore his family 'honor'. I quite appropriately called him 'Lord of Nothing', which in truth was probably too good a title for him. I do also recall how he was ever meddling in her affairs, although she was a full grown woman. He forbade her from associating with "undesirable" elements. Specifically by my observation, first and foremost-the Beastfolk. I watched him soundly tell Virgil Darkridge that a animal like him should be put down for the notion of loving his sister. Many hold ill opinions of me-but I have never seen such venom in a man, such ignorance. Similarly he tried to press charges against a man, Lyle, whom I had become acquainted with. Lyle was a bounty hunter, but I knew him to be a reasonably honest and reliable man from times I sortied with him. Lucy would never listen to me anyway, so I could not vouch for him. Lucy claimed to be protecting her interests, and preserving the family 'honor'. He questioned her again and again as to why she wanted to 'destroy everything'. In truth he was only concerned with his ‘honor’ and trying to make the Cassius lineage strong again, with many political ties.

Here I am, with my own title now. The title of Knight of Avalon. Well earned and well deserved for my contributions to the defense against the dark arts with my Mysterie of Darke Cultes compiled from many obscure sources in one of the most complete volumes to date; for fighting against The Dark One-apart of the destruction of three of his temples, and serving the cities interests many times; and for my generous contributions to The Library and the commission of a Memorial for all of those that died in the demonic incursions. But now-I am taking a questionable course of action, one that many would not disagree with, but in which I find a measure of hypocrisy on my part. I am choosing to make my Knightly title hereditary, to be passed onto those that come after me. From me it is extended to my wife, and to all of my children who come after me.

Why?

Isn’t the notion against all I believe?

Perhaps. But I have noble intentions.

As I look each night upon our daughter, safe and sound in her crib, I think of her future. What will become of her then? Who will see past her hoary hair and chalybeous skin? Who will look into her emerald eyes and see the spirit within? I ask myself Who would take her taloned hand in marriage or even as a friend? Who will love our daughter, like I do?

I do not know what it will be like for her; I have not experienced such life. Not fully. I was raised as the son of Master Midrashim, a great cleric of Thoth and a man of highborn caste. Had they known that I was the son of a cultist whore I would have been a stain on an honor worn name. Had I remained in that land I would have had to hide my Eldritch side, for I would have been Pariah. Had I remained longer, after my transformation, I would have been seen as abomination. I was seen as abomination even in Avalon by a few-although I cannot place that Gabriel or his opinions in the highest class of men. She does not have a perfectly human face, like my own. She cannot hide what she is like her mother. I hope perhaps, by sharing in my honors, that this will soften the opinions of those who object to her very being.

There is also the concern for sons. What man does not want a son? Sons are also important in succession, most societies being of the mind that women give up their maiden names and men carry on their family titles. Every man I think wants to see things continue on after him. I should like a son-more than one actually. For the death of a single heir without children, is the death of a line. If my House should be a pillar that will stand for many generations, then like any tree it must be anchored by many roots before it can expand its branches.

Where shall these sons come from?

First and foremost, I would imagine they would be born of my First Wife. I call her my first because that's what she is, and I cannot say I will not have more after her. By no means do I imply that I foresee our separation-though admittedly she has her thorns and can be unruly. But I needn't always have my way. Do recall the legend of the First Man who rejected the wife his deity gave him, all because she wished to be atop, and would not lie beneath him. Look what happened to him. Look what happened to all of his children. It was The King's hand that lead me to her, and gave me hers, and so I shall be content. In some lands men may take several wives, my old friend Dakheel was from such a place. His second wife was taken with the permission and acceptance of the first. He loves them equally as wives, and they each other as if sisters. I do not know that my consort would want to be so vulnerable again carrying a child however, so taking a second wife is one alternative. As far as I know, such far Western customs are not the norm, and I may not be able to do such within the city.

Magic offers many solutions however- it is entirely within my means to Hasten her pregnancy or even transfer our offspring into Playmates acting as surrogate mothers created though Shadow Conjuration. The latter method will require me to carefully monitor the spell, extending its duration every few hours unless I take the steps to make it Permanent-once done it could be used many times. However, it gives me the benefit of keeping it hidden, under lock and key until our spawn is complete. Although I could use magic too, to determine the sex of my children, or even make a daughter into a son-I would not do such a thing. In my homeland and the Cho-Lin Empire there is such a hideous preference for sons. So much so that it is not entirely unheard of for women to be forced to abandon baby girls. Some scholars wager than in generations to come, it may become so bad that one day there will be a generation in which most men cannot find women. Sons can inherit property in such societies, while girls may only be married off and one must pay a dowry. I cannot say how many young women have gone the way of dowry death in my country. It does not matter how many daughters I have before I have a son or two, I shall love them all and think no less of them.

There is one more way. A much more insidious way, which quietly, may already, be at work. When we were in The Abyss, she made me promise her that I would never lay with another Fiend. This is what would make our relationship different. She did not however expect me to lay only with her. The woman is illicit sex incarnate so she couldn’t care either way-or so she says, she is selfish and I suspect she may want to keep me to herself. I certainly could not fault her for lying with another, that's just her way. I am not concerned as long as she does not leave a trail of bodies in her wake. Oh to be sure, men turn up dead frequently enough-it’s just that when too many Wights walk the streets at night people become suspicious. A succubus may assume the form of any humanoid race, and they are not restricted by gender in any way, they may be male or female or halfway. I do not know how she feels about seducing women, but I know her tastes are broad minded as they come. She could, or may have already begun sewing her own seeds already. In male or hermaphroditic form I cannot see her being the 'responsible' one and so there may yet be women here or far away who carry her own spawn. Possessing Greater Teleportation means that fiends get around of course. The mortality rates of such pairings are incredibly high however, so I cannot imagine many of such women would be around for long. They're unimportant people though.

I do not think she would be against this- not only is it her way, but the way of all demons. All demons are capable of impregnating mortal things of every single kind. Even if their demonic species possesses no genatalia, there is ritual of which they have innate knowledge, to impregnate female creatures with their essence. The spawn of such are unnatural, and their proliferation fulfills every demon's desire to make the mortal realm more like The Abyss. Though such spawn would only be half-siblings to my own, entirely her children-and The Dark One placed a special interest on spawn between us-I would accept them in my home and be father to them.

But of course one asks-such children would spread among many mostly dead mothers, what would you do to collect them? Why you could just as easily take them home-except you'd need an explanation. Those within my House would surely notice the appearance of children, and it would be out of place if my wife were never pregnant. They work for me, and so I could pay them to keep the secret, but there's another way.

I have plans to start an orphanage. Servia intended to run one out of her home one day, but it never got started. During the Siege a year ago (as of next month) most of the temples and churches were attacked from within, almost every order had been infiltrated. Because many of the non-profit religious organizations that normally take it upon themselves to feed and clothe such children were devastated, and many more war-orphans were created, I shall take it upon myself to ameliorate the situation. The purpose of the effort first and foremost is to provide such children with a home and an education. I place a high value on literacy, and I should like to see as many literate young men and women come of age in the program as possible. The goal is that when they come of age, they should know enough to enter a craft or profession and with many more options than otherwise. By turning what would be beggars into capable citizens, Avalon’s ability to do everything will be greatly increased in war and in peace. If by some means it is actually impossible for them to find work in The City of Bridges, the city will provide the path to many other places.

Such an effort does not only benefit the city. It is also of value to The King. While many others are suited to state religions or being venerated by peasantry-the followers of Father Styx are predisposed to be scholars and theologians. Much like Thoth, in a world full of ignorant, incurious, and illiterate people he would surely starve. Even if in a more enlightened world they would seek Thoth first, there is always the temptation that they will be drawn to much more 'dangerous' knowledge and seek what The Bird has forbidden.

However, the orphanage is also of a distinct value to me. Half-fiends spawned by my consort whose mothers abandoned them, or who died in childbirth may be taken in by the program. Out of my 'sympathy' for their situation, I will simply adopt them-and no one need know of their true origin. It is also of value for other reasons. Those who show particular promise may be eligible for a special scholarship. I will sponsor those in whom I see great potential. Being grateful, I am sure they will become valuable allies and assets. Of course, such a patronage would occur under a few minor conditions. They must repay me in some way, and my sons and daughters will need companions. I will provide their further education, on the condition that should any of my half-fiend children be willing to or seek interest in them, that they will accept them. Marriages are often arranged, but I feel no urge to meddle too much in such things. That's the reason why I leave it up to my children whether they will or will not join with them. My spawn are free to choose their mates, but being made to accept the union is a 'risk' those I patron will have to take. Should they refuse to carry out what they have promised, they will be made to repay me in full for their tuition. With reasonable interest. Beyond these chosen few-I am interested in the offspring of Perada. She too escaped The Abyss with her children, and they too are not all elven.

My desire for sons is only one for children who can carry on the family name. Midrashim's own son and his wife perished with their child. Only I carry his name and intend not to be the last. However, on the issue of inheritance, that is all my children are entitled to. The name and all others are willing to offer for their association. Firstly, I have no intention of dying permanently. As a Votary of The Ephialtes and a Disciple of The Diamond Heel I can taste the promised eternal vigor. It is only a step away before I receive the final blessing of my divine patron. I will go on, and though I be a man of Matra born, I may yet live to see strange eons. Albeit-the elder I become the more I have to age should my patron suddenly take the gift away. Who knows what He may do, or what plans he has? To say I know I will live forever cannot be certain, but it is not my intention to forever rest. And even if I did forever die, my children would not see one red copper of inheritance. While they live under me I will provide for them, yes, but only for so long. If I must bequeath something to them then it will be minimal. I do not wish to see my sons become empty-headed old money, nor even one of my daughters to become just an 'heiress'. They must make something of themselves. Long before they come of age; I will see to it that they realize and understand this.

Lastly there is the matter of the family crest. I have not determined its final designs - whatever it is, both its ties to the Kadath family of the Talwar clan of my homeland and the strength of Fiend Blood it must express. It is only NOW that I find the time to investigate the precise history of my lineage, and might seek it out-although I suspect a Marilith. I believe Sandra of The Second Age may have clues or answers to that.

( Attatched Page )

"You'll pay what you owe Traitor's Son"

That's what they wrote to me.

I am thought the murderer of Master Midrashim, the man that was my adoptive grandfather, the man that raised me, the man I most respected. Perhaps by my words and deeds I may erase all that, and show the fools who took his life that 'The Traitor's Son' still lives- and it is they that shall pay what they owe, and not him. And perhaps his mother, Ishtara, might find him if she still lives.

- The Traitor's Son


Kablak The Bloody Handed

(An article of the Avalon Chronicle's broadsheet seems to have been cut up and pasted into the book)

DEATH DOCTOR CARVES BLOODY PATH THROUGH AVALON
By Senior Reporter Cadella Cornings
The chaos brought by the 'adventuring' sort reached the offices of The Chronicle today, when a 'Doctor' Kablak (male human, age unknown) was apprehended after attacking The Chronicle offices. The Doctor is currently under investigation for over a dozen counts of murder within Avalon alone, and countless more outside. He attacked The Chronicle office for unknown reasons, suspected to be related to his blatant attempts at seeking attention with each prospective murder.
Little is known about the so-called Doctor, although evidence suggested he hailed from Cargando, where he lived with his family for several years. It's here the terror starts, and local Cargando authorities were able to confirm the butchering and murder of his wife and child, of which Kablak was at-the-time cleared as a suspect. Kablak then left a bloody trail wherever he followed, claiming to be chasing a demon. In truth, Kablak was using his position as an excuse to further his sick desire, gruesomely dismembering and torturing his victims, and attempting to blame it on a fiendish source.
Kablak's travels brought him to Avalon last month. It is in this reporter's opinion that the reason he came to Avalon was the reason that drove him to all of his crimes - attempting to seek recognition of his horrific deeds, craving the dark attention that it brought. Once in Avalon, he began preying on the poor and unwell, and was responsible for a rash of recent murders and staged suicides previously reported to in The Chronicle.
This came to a head when a group of adventurers, previously working under Kablak's hire to find the so-called 'demon' confronted him after the doctor was forced to murder a fellow resident at his boarding house. Chasing their previous employer down, they managed to confront him outside of The Chronicle office, and quickly subdued him, although not before a staff member was mortally injured. The capture left Kablak badly injured, and he is currently in a coma at an undisclosed location. Authorities report it is not expected for Kablak to wake soon, if ever.
This event serves as a reminder to the people of Avalon that although local 'adventurers' are often immortalized in song and tale, they can easily be led astray and manipulated. At least 14 victims have been confirmed as being murdered by Kablack, with as many as 11 more suspected and currently under investigation. For now, however, the streets of Avalon are safe from the mad Doctor's rampage, and its citizens can rest once more.

"This event serves as a reminder to the people of Avalon that although local 'adventurers' are often immortalized in song and tale, they can easily be led astray and manipulated. At least 14 victims have been confirmed as being murdered by Kablack, with as many as 11 more suspected and currently under investigation. For now, however, the streets of Avalon are safe from the mad Doctor's rampage, and its citizens can rest once more."

Lead astray, Ms. Cornings? Ah, isnt that the truth. One must not only careful in one's selection of hired hands, but also very careful of ones employers. I can tell you that much of the time, however, when adventurers are hired -there are ulterior motives. Things are rarely ever precisely as they seem on the surface. This doesnt mean the mission to be carried out is criminal, only that it is apart of a larger series of events. One must consider what purpose something serves in the long run. It has happened to me once, and I have also seen it happen to others. The difference is, that in my own case, it was the famed Wheelright brothers- and what I and my colleagues prevented was actually the counter attack that was meant to throw a wrench in their machinations. Thankfully they were found out, but I must express my grave concern over the fact that they were let go after consorting with the Kaorti and producing weapons of mass destruction. Albeit, they lost their vast enterprise and all their wealth, they still live.

Doctor, I wonder what it's like? To be trapped in a dying mind. Does your soul writhe in your fleshy prison? And yet much more than that I wonder what your purpose was. Was it really just for blood to find new freedom? Surely as elaborate as it was, you orchestrated all this for some higher purpose? Was your story just a cover-or were you even under your own will? Was your reason stolen by a very real and supernatural force that remains unseen? Or were you carrying out the will of a hidden master behind a black curtain. What deity, what demon, what demagogue will profit from this if any? Indeed perhaps, yet another delacourte Urian Delacourte, plans thankfully undone-although much more violently.

But Delacourte for all his grandeur, was the student and not the master.
And Gadron Sturik for all his scheming, was a Knight and not The King.
While The Wheelright's for all their wealth and power, were merely pawns of the Kaorti.
And yes, I am on the trail of another- a certain whore who think's she's a queen and believes she can control world-breaking powers.

I think I must meet these heroes who felled you Doctor. I want to shake their hands, but I also want to ascertain the veracity of these claims for myself. There are powers that may desire your reclamation from the grasp of death. If they exist, I will expose them. Your looming death in your sleep, or trial and execution upon your awakening may be only a begining. If it proves so, I will end it.

- The Traitor's Son