Prose

A Tome of Ill Intent (For M)

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(This is a journal obtained and currently being deciphered by M. New posts are new developments in translating the text.)

Entry 1

 

We have finally arrived. It took us many days of travel from Caer Darrow to reach this place, and many of the coven are growing restless already. Brother Nathaniel has been fervant in belief that there is something for us here. I hope for our sake-- and his own-- that he is correct. So far we have seen nothing but wastes of snow and ice, and while this wreckage of a city provides us with some more agreeable means of shelter, it is still far from the great power we have been promised.

Brother Nathaniel claims that there is something mighty slumbering beneath this city. He has taken to exploring this warehouse we now use as our lodgings to find a path deeper into the earth, towards the prize he seeks. Samantha and I express our doubts between one another, but we have no will to provoke the old man's wrath at the moment. Not unless this endeavor continues to prove fruitless.

 

I have taken it upon myself as the keeper of our tomes to record my observations of this place. If it does prove as impressive as Nathaniel believes it to be, let it not be said that I was unprepared.

I have been able to glean the name of this place as 'Northwind' from the signage about the city. It is a sizeable settlement, peculiarly so for being so remote and forsaken to the elements. It appears large enough to hold a small fort, even. Frustratingly, Nathaniel forbids us from making our camp there. What reasoning he might have for this, I am unable to say. This warehouse is not a poor choice for lodgings, but I do find it somewhat insecure. It is also much closer to that lighthouse than I enjoy.

--There is a lighthouse here, by the by. A lighthouse on a mountainside. It's a peculiar thing, and I find it somewhat unsettling that it remains lit after what surely must have been years of neglect. There is something rather repulsive about it, beyond that. I'm a bit hard-pressed to say what.

Perhaps I've just spoiled my appreciation for bright objects by living in the catacombs for so long?

 

We will be taking a more in-depth look around this wreck of a city tomorrow. Hopefully the weather remains as favorable as it has been so far-- I find the mountain oppressive enough as it is without a barrage of snow to deal with as well.

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Entry 2

 

We came close to taking a knife to the old man's back today. He wouldn't stop digging through the rubble at the back of the storeroom, insistent that there should be a tunnel somewhere about. The fool-- Whatever passage he was seeking had been long collapsed. Likely that it would have been a deathtrap even if we had managed to clear it enough to crawl through.

 

Mercifully we were able to persuade him against more worrying over that, and tore him aside long enough to take a look around this place.

It's a bit of a marvel for the stubbornness of the 'civilized' world, if ever there were one. Built upon a mountainside, buried in snow, and yet they seem to have taken quite the pains to making it a fairly developed township. There's even a farm. What in the Lich King's name did they think they would grow here, I wonder?

Anyway. At first appraisal this town continued to be a waste of time. A better shelter than the Plaguelands as the Light's puppets make their way into our former domain, perhaps, but nothing of much note. At first.

 

Asha and I took the residential district. Nathanial and Samantha went to examine the 'lighthouse' and the buildings about it. The rest went to the keep. We decided against dividing our coven on an incursion into the mine- If there were a collapse we'd be none the wiser. While I don't prize all of my companions at present, a body is useful, dead or alive.

Our searching of the residences was largely unremarkable. A home full of various potions of meager worth to us, an engineer's workshop, a tailor's, among other trades and less notable homes. The one of particular note was an arcanist's residence. Former Kirin Tor, from our appraisal. Driven out due to some darker interest of their own.

Relatedly, we've now attained a few new tomes. I shall take some interest in pouring over them if the rest of this visit is a waste, at least.

 

We caught sight of a Forsaken on our return to the others. It appears one of the wayward banshee's minions has followed our trail from Caer Darrow. We thought to bring the bag of bones down, but he seemed to catch wind of us and vanished into the shadows. I suspect we'll have to deal with him later.

Unfortunate. I've grown quite tired of unexpected visitors after that last raid that displaced us.

I have taken it upon myself to create some wards to hopefully stave off any more intrusions. Nathaniel's search seems to have found him something of importance from a priest's residence, but no one has been able to pry the significance of it from him.

He says we will be venturing to a 'door' tomorrow, above the mine. He has promised us something of interest.

 

Samantha and I have conspired to kill him if the trip is another waste of our time.

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Entry 3

 

Imagine what could be done with a servant who is not only capable of a flawless disguise, but changing it at a whim. Imagine if we could not only slay kings and queens, but replace flawlessly.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

Today Nathaniel evidently saw that our retinue has tired of his blathering, and made good on his promise. We marched to a hillside overlooking some abandoned mine and plunged into a cavern that opened at it's summit. At first I presumed we were being taken to some lair of a lost coven, or something of some other occult value. To our surprise, it was quite the opposite. Nathaniel brought us deep into the cavern until we were presented with a door. A door, indeed, and one gleaming in golden metal and smooth, flawless stone. A brilliant burning light ran up and down the center of the barrier, it's glow both rather alluring to my eyes and, admittedly, disturbing.

 

I had only heard of such things from our brothers who returned from Northrend, but surely this was the work of the titans. Before it I felt the presence of something -angry-, as if something were lurking just beyond the portal. Several of our other brethren seemed equally troubled- some excused themselves briskly out of the cave, but I and others of stronger fortitude remained.

At last we were entreated to a reason behind our being here. Evidently there is a power here, latent and untapped that rises from the very soil. We stand upon the shoulders of our wayward makers- whatever is lodged below the earth is something of might and magic that I have not beheld, even in the presence of an ascended lich. With this dormant energy, we could perhaps imbue some creations of our own with a taste of that forbidden power.

 

This, of course, brings me to my earlier musings. 

 

She called them 'Skin Thieves'.

 

I have poured over the writings of this town's previous magi, and with her findings combined with Nathaniel's recent revelation I have come upon an amazing creation. The art of necromancy often concerns itself with the manipulation of a body, or the pieces assembled from one. There are an assortment of spirits that serve as an exception to this, of course, but the field is often far less explored. It is, of course, more difficult to fully bind a soul to one's will, rather than a body. Such feats were reserved only to our greatest practitioners, many of which have perished and taken their secrets with them. Now it is time to forge our own way.

The rite described to birth these creatures is a curiously specific one. A precise location is named-- By my estimate, it is the likely the closest position in this town towards whatever is sleeping beneath it. There is also the matter of 'reagents'. The restless spirits still lingering in this town shall suffice quite nicely, but there is a demand for a more lively specimen as well.

 

Thankfully, my colleagues and I are rather comfortable with parting with one of our members, now that his use has passed.

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Entry 4

 

The ritual for the creation of these 'skin thieves' is peculiarly precise. We marched through the catacombs running beneath the town for some time, and arrived at what was quite obviously our destination at it's deepest chamber, in a deep hole sunk into the earth. Here we began to prepare the ritual, after Hull and pulled bodies from the tombs and the rune was forged with our gathered reagents. 

I continue to be impressed by the craftsmanship of those tiny hands-- Even more that she was able to restrain Nathaniel on her own. We pulled him writhing from the cart we'd dragged him down on and cast him into the assembled circle, upon the cadavers and scrolls we'd been assembling. He nearly pushed himself off before Samantha kindly silenced him with a pommel to the head.

 

For all of the preparation leading up to the incantation, the actual spell lasted but a few seconds. With our voices we burned away the bodies and Nathaniel's still breathing form in a brilliant flame. As it grew higher it became twisted, for a lack of a better word. And then, it was over. The flame snuffed itself out, and when we lit our lantern to see what had become of it we found our creation in the ashes.

 

It was Nathaniel, as my reading had promised- Perfectly him in every way, from his withered flesh to his glassy eyes and fading hair. It was not the man we had burned, though, for it had no knowledge of who, or what it was. It seemed quite lost and distraught, but swiftly we bound it under our control and drew it upwards into the open air.

We have been pressing to see what potential it may have. At present it is simply a less aggravating form of our now consumed brother, but I am well aware we have only scratched the surface of this being. It's ability to take the form of another so flawlessly is simply outstanding- We attempted for hours upon our return to the warehouse to dispel the creature's visage, or at the very least detect the charade-- we could not.

 

For now we have bound it and thrown it into the back room of this building. Experimentation and application will, unfortunately, need to wait. As we made our return from the catacombs the weather began to turn foul. In an peculiar coincidence the lighthouse looming over this town had grown brighter, as if to pierce the veil of snow and guide us back. Perhaps this miserable place is not without it's pleasantries after all.

At the moment we must ready to brace the storm. The gale has become blisteringly frigid, but thankfully we have undead among us who can brave the weather without issue. We will settle here for a day or so until the weather has passed, then we will relocate.

 

Perhaps by then we will have gained a better understanding of our new servant.

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Entry 5

 

Things appear to have taken a turn for the worse, to phrase it plainly. We have lost two of our associates today-- Well. One body. But two, as a whole.

 

The storm has been worsening, and we may be trapped here for some time at this rate. Our undead, less addled by the biting wind, reported that the dense snowfall has left little to no visibility outside. We are at most able to determine where the other nearby structures are, and that beacon. Beyond that, nothing.

We sent them on to scour for food, next. While it is a rather absurd notion, Asha and Hull apparently noted some serviceable rations in the inn on their way about. Perhaps it was meant to feed soldiers? I had heard they had long-lasting supplies, but if they have survived this miserable place then it would truly be a testament to their usefulness. We will not be finding out at the moment, however. On their approach the two were ambushed by the Forsaken cur that we encountered briefly upon our initial survey of this place. Apparently the storm has not dissuaded him-- He brought Lisette to ground and mangled Sorell. He barely made it back to our hideaway, nearly passed on to true death as he was. We were unable to mend his wounds-- but the skin thief insisted that it could help.

 

We allowed it to act, and it took to a knee above the injured man. It laid it's hands upon him, and no words passed between them. Then, after a delay, Sorell sat up, healed. We were at first awed by this display of masterful shadowmending, until Sorell began to ask questions-- Questions he should most certainly have known.

We now have a second Skin Thief. Sorell's body is unaccounted for, or perhaps simply inhabited by the creature. Hull was angered, Samantha was concerned of potential troubles with their seamless ability to possess and displace others. It could bode ill, if they chose to turn on us. For the time being we locked them within the back chamber again, and began to ward our holdout in preparation for another assault by that Forsaken. We are thinning in numbers now-- Five of us remain, discounting the two creatures. We will need to make dealing with the undead upon our heels a certain priority, for we cannot weather this storm and his meddling at the same time.

 

Tomorrow we will be moving towards a nearby mine, to hopefully harvest something of value to bolster our standing here. Our more attuned have spoke of perceiving a formidable power there. If it proves to be harnessable, perhaps we will simply send for help within the Plaguelands. Haskil should not be a far distance from the trail we used to climb this mount, and while we have had our conflicts in the past I believe he can be reasoned with.

I would prefer to simply drive a dagger through the throat of that fool queen's servitor, but I am afraid he appears craftier than we had anticipated at first.

 

I will now return to minding my wards. We will depend on them, until this interloper's shadow has been lifted from us.

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