Arms of the Forgotten

Keeper Remmith's Travel Account, Part I
Of Our Arrival in Drochmuir and the Creature of the Lighthouse

Having lived for three centuries, one truth is but now becoming apparent to me: that beginnings and endings are two facets of a singular, great illusion. Over the course of many years my eyes have been sculpted such that they no longer recognize when one road stops and another begins. Every day, I follow the same trail, imprint endless steps in the same dusty road… they all become one in my mind. Has it been so long since I first planted my heel on the road out of Veltalar?

I cannot now recall how I came to be traveling with the drow, or the pirate, though I feel our paths must have only recently bled together. They do not trust me, nor I them- their hearts and convictions are too weak to adequately serve the Black Sun. Although, some of the half-orc’s behavior is intriguing- he feigns madness but I am not fooled by it. Does he really think to deceive a servant of the Prince of Lies?

The stairway out of this degenerate fishers’ town having been torn apart by the storm, the meat-heads and I decided to take a stroll and examine the quaint architecture of the town. In addition to a somewhat (rightly) defiled statue of the false moon-bitch Selune, we stumbled upon a fascinating creature inside the old lighthouse.

I sit beside its mutilated viscera as I write this, but even as I gaze upon it I find my encyclopaedic mastery of language insufficient to describe it. It appears little more than a vaguely aquatic, humanoid-shaped mass of biological matter. The rubbery, pale, and slightly translucent skin lend to its appearance of being molded out of fish matter, and its two massive tentacles, though now limp, belied a ravenous strength undetectable by sight. It moved with a similarly uncanny agility. Now, in death, the corpse has begun sweating a great deal of moisture- the liquid is offensive to the olfactory… foul, and sulfurous.

Still, this is the first of a newly discovered breed of beast! My interest is only outmatched by my excitement at the prospect of a new addition to the army of Cyric! I will begin the desecration ritual immediately upon this place, and within the hour, I shall have a new, betentacled minion! I certainly hope it’s not the only one of its kind- I should like to raise a score of them or more! The army of the Lord of Madness certainly deserves a visage as maddening as this one. I have but one course- to investigate the rest of this village. Should the drow and half-orc decide to join me, so be it.

Let the mouths of the servants of the Prince of Lies be pried wide with fast music! Let a black sun rise on myriad notes to the glory of Cyric!

And now, to work…


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