Journal of Thief's End

[Lion El'Jonson]

Page 233

Christian Thiefsend, Year 1310

It's been a long time since I've written in this. But I'm glad I have it now. The last two days have been the worst of my life. I was on patrol, heading east along the river and coasting through the grass, when a rolling fog overcame the field. The next thing I realized, I woke up face-down in the dirt, surrounded by landscape I barely recognized, outside a camp of peddlers and mystics. I thought I had lost my way, but as it happens I was beyond right. In a sanctuary to the Morninglord, a familiar presence in an unfamiliar land, a cleric named Heilyn sat me down and revealed a terrible truth. I had not simply lost my way. I had been stolen. Those mists were no less than an evil entity, some unholy deity that domains over its own plane, that snatches and steals the people of Faerun and drops them inside.

I'm now in a land called Barovia, a nation of an impoverished, distrusting people and an encompassing darkness in the night unlike any I've seen before. Standing outside when the sun falls sets my teeth on edge, makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand, and sends a chill up my spine. At least my instinct is not so lost. Roving bands of werebeasts, according to Heilyn, roam the lands and prey on anything they can find. Beneath the sanctuary I took shelter in is a crypt, a place for reverence for the dead, yet it is so deeply cursed that the dead walk and cannot be put to rest. I have yet to even meet a native of this country, yet I feel it well. Barovia is a land of danger.

But my perils, my confusion, it's all nothing to my family. What must they think? My father? My mother? They can only assume I've died. Or worse, that I've run out on them. Abandoned Waterdeep for my own devices. As far as they know, I went out on patrol, yet if what Heilyn told of this land is correct, it's a patrol I will never return from. He tells me that he knows of no magic, no force that can permeate this realm. Nothing that can return me to my home or the family who likely already wonder and worry for me. What nature of evil can this be, so powerful and great in scale that it can take from any realm it pleases?

But perhaps most concerning of all, the gods are like an absent memory now. Like a wrench in the pit of my stomach, I feel nothing from the Vigilant One. Is it possible that he who sees all cannot see me? I refuse to believe that my god has forsaken me, has simply abandoned me to my fate, no. It can only be that the force behind this plane is so great, that the gods are barred from this realm. Helm, who my connection with is strongest, is not the only I have missed. Tyr's steadying gaze encouraging my passing of judgement is gone, a comforting hand from Ilmater in my time of strife is notably missing, the firm presence of Torm as I follow my duties all but evaporated. I feel not their influence, their presence, the confirmation of faith that I have known all my life has completely vanished.

I must not give in to this overpowering sorrow that threatens to wash over me. This is the greatest trial I have ever faced, I must not surrender.

[Lion El'Jonson]

Page 234

Christian Thiefsend, Year 1310 773

Interesting place, this Barovia. Dread hangs in the air like clouds and weighs the people down almost visibly. I visited the 'Village of Barovia', an oddly-named city that seems to be Barovia's capital. A place I'd expect to be busy and boisterous is instead dull and quiet. Its sanctuary to the Morninglord also has a crypt brimming with the living dead, and not far is a cave full of massive, wolf-sized ants constructing a nest that threatened to consume my companion and I.

 Speaking of, I can't continue without bringing up Hisbis. A gnome that's been my companion for a couple days now, who's every other word threatens to give me a headache. He's eccentric and a lot smarter than myself, talking about things that make my head hurt when I try to understand them. Also well-versed with magic, as it happens. He and I have been travelling Barovia looking for the undead, Hisbis throws his magic on me and then I throw myself at the dead. So far, it's proven effective.

With a companion so well-versed in magic and supposedly time-travel, maybe finding my way home won't be as impossible as Heilyn said.

[Lion El'Jonson]

Page 235

Christian Thiefsend, Year 773

If you had told me a week ago that I would quickly become best friends with an eccentric gnome wizard and adventure across a strange land, I'd have said you had too much to drink. Yet here I am now, doing exactly that! In the span of four days, I've acquired a holy mace of the Morninglord, inlaid with the bone of a saint, and a set of full plate armor that's so stacked with steel plates it makes my old scale look like a chain shirt. All found in the line of duty, battling the undead in the ruined tower to the south.

I've met a lot more interesting people now. Rook, Merudo, Alaethe, Jared, Tharlendur, and Tenshin. I should also mention Gwynnestri, who I neglected to write about in my first entry. She and I were stolen by these mists around the same time, and Heilyn sat us both down and explained our situation to us both. I've adapted better than I thought I would, probably because of the quick friendships, I guess Helm would be proud that I haven't broken down and gone off into the woods to live like a mad hermit.

I just happened to find a Waterdhavian cloak, one of the enchanted ones made by Blackstaff that protect against evil. I remember hearing about them during my time in the watch, though I was never given one. Funny how I come across one now, in these lands, of all places. With the last of my dragons I got a tailor in Vallaki to stitch the emblem of Helm into the fabric, he did a fantastic job too, but now all I've got are Barovian fang. Maybe I should have saved one of those coins for memento.

[Lion El'Jonson]

Page 236

Christian Thiefsend, Year 773

Everything's been quiet. The shock of being here is starting to wear off. I'm starting to recognize faces and places, getting a little familiar with the territory. I can travel between the Village of Barovia and Vallaki on my own, though I have to watch out for the things along the way. These ogres really need to be permanently dealt with, I don't know how they've gone this long already. Hisbis and I attacked a cave full of giant ants, giant things seems to be a recurring theme in this country, because so far I've run into giant wolves and giant spiders as well. I didn't expect my enthusiasm to run out this fast, this land's dread is already starting to affect me.

I need to be careful.

[Lion El'Jonson]

Page 242

Christian Thiefsend, Year 774

My return to Barovia has been thus far uneventful. Last year, I was still naive to the nature of this land, convinced that evil could not truly reign supreme. Now, though, I am wiser. It is clear to any who see that the Core, not just Barovia, is a cursed realm. Every domain is fraught with perils, every cave and corner threatens to guise some other terrible threat- be it the living dead or the cursed werebeast. I am now wiser, stronger, and more prepared to continue my work. The longer I've been here, the clearer it is to me that it's for a purpose- my almighty Helm is no doubt responsible for my presence here. It will take a noble host of good-hearted souls willing to suffer and die to beat back the darkness that plagues these lands.

The old names are gone, those I came to know upon my arrival have since passed or moved elsewhere, nowhere to be found. But in their stead others will rise. If I'm to begin a Crusade against darkness, I will need help. Equally driven men and women with the same sense of purpose as myself. Above that, I must grow personally stronger. Continue to hone my abilities until I am more physically able to conquer the challenges set before me. I refuse to surrender to melancholy and apathy so long as innocent people need protecting, despite this realm's best attempts, I will remain firm. Hold fast, Barovia. The Vigilant One watches over us.