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Koloblicin's Journal ------------- Beware when day meets dark. Beware crossroads, where they skulk. They can lurk in fire's crackle and easily travel on sparks. Beware gloomy places among rocks, under things, down holes and caves and shafts of every kind. Beware crags and edges and water's brink -- the fey creatures slip along borders, where this meets that.
Some are of terrible icy beauty. Most are shaped by whim. They often crave attention. Pray not provoke them, for they revel in causing extravagant harm, and are dangerous in the extreme. They are tireless hunters, these thieves of magic, without empathy, without a soul.
Mark well my words: Beware the Chimes, and if need be great, draw yourself thrice on the barren earth, in sand and salt and blood, a Fatal Grace. -------------
The arguments rage on among us. Wizard's Third Rule: Passion rules reason. I fear this most insidious of rules may be our ruin. Though we know better, I fear some of us are violating it anyway. Each faction presses that their course of action is reason, but in the desperation, I fear all are passion. Even Alric
Rahl sends frantic word of a solution. Meanwhile the dream walkers scythe through our men. I pray the towers can be completed, or we are all lost. Today I said good-bye to friends leaving for the towers. I wept to know I will never see those good men in this world. How many will die in the towers for the cause of reason? But alas, I know the worse cost should we violate the Third Rule. -------------
The third attempt at forging a Sword of Truth failed today. The wives and children of the five men who died roam the halls, wailing in inconsolable anguish. How many men will die before we succeed, or until we abandon the attempt as impossible? The goal may be worthy, but the price is becoming terrible to bear.
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Last night, our enemies sent assassins through the sliph. Had the man on duty not been so alert, they would have succeded. When the towers are ignited, the Old World will truly be sealed away, and the sliph will sleep. Then we can all rest easier, except the unlucky man on guard. We have concluded that we
will have no way of knowing is in the sliph, so the guard cannot be called away in time. When the towers are brought to life, the man on guard will be sealed in with her. -------------
Today, one of our most coveted desires, possible only through the brilliant, tireless work of a team of near to one hundred, has been accomplished. The items most feared lost, should we be overrun, have been protected. A cheer went up from all in the Keep when we received word today that we were succesful.
Some thought it would not be possible, but to the astonishment of all, it is done: the Temple of the Winds is gone.
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Evil thinks not to beguile us by unveilling the terrible truth of it's festering intent, but comes, instead, disguised in the diaphonous robes of virtue, whispered sweet-sounding lies intented to seduce us in the dark bed of our eternal graves. |
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