It has become necessary that I keep a second journal for my own musings, separate from my record of the exploits of the Blades of Dawn. I do so only because my thoughts need an outlet, and these thoughts are of a sensitive nature that it may be best that they not be left open for all eyes as our current records. As I write, I make my way to my homeland, to the Life Rock. The way is peaceful thus far and I may have time to collect my fears and pen them here.
[...] Beleg Ar-Thalion, of all our companions, gives me most cause for worry. I do not know what matters he pursued away from The Blades when we were torn apart, but now he is different somehow. Where before he was commanding and his manner stoic, now his judgement is more reckless, not so much as to make it truly noticeable to all but the most perceptive. Indeed, I would never have noticed it. But when I hear the bitterness in his voice... he seems to feel superior to us, to mistrust us, even Trent the Archer, who is his own kind. I have seen a strange look in his eyes, oftentimes. I don't know what it means.
Trent Peregrine, the Archer, has his own road to travel. His quest for the knowledge of his family drives him on, feeds his wrath. I am thankful that his anger seems to be directed mostly towards the Theran Empire, it holds his attentions. But his anger is quick and subject to whim. His obsession drives him for now, but his emotions cause him to change his targets to whomever stands in his way.
The Theran Empire also weighs heavily on my mind. For their evils they should be destroyed. The Empire should be brought down. They kill and enslave, gaining more power to use to their corrupt ends. But the Therans turned back the Horrors. Only by strength can the harm be undone. The Empire's only goal was self-preservation, but such power could be used to cleanse the world. Nothing good can come of the black empire... still I wonder. Terrible as it seems, I wish its destruction. I wish vengeance visited upen them all. Yet I can't help but feel that it is the best, even the only way to combat the dark tide. The Empire stands poised to strike at us, and the true threat lies somewhere, perhaps only partially hidden.
As far as power is concerned, perhaps Calypso has the most. He has been diligent in his studies and has succeeded in mastering several disciplines, although I do not know to what end. He seems to delight in his power, but such intoxication has led more willful souls than he astray. Still, he has been steadfast, perhaps driven by desire for power, but perhaps driven by loyalty. I hope that my misgivings prove to be unfounded. It is difficult to dislike the dwarf, so different from his own kind, almost like he felt no kinship with them... but I must not forget that he practices nethermancy. It is Morden's art, and Farazul's. Of all the arts to choose... I have a great distaste for these... spirit summoners. They have proved useful in the past, but it is a black art. I saw how Zarius absorbed Farazul's attacks, drew power from them. If it feeds the Horrors, surely there can be no doubt as to the danger, the nature of the magic.
But he was Farazul no longer. Can I ever forget the Horror Mark under that hideous mask of his? If only we could have slain Zarius. But the Horror escaped us. And what of Mordax? A terrible fate. Terrible. No information as to his whereabouts. He may have fled to spare us. Or... It is a matter of most pressing urgency. There may still be time. [...]
Today my worst fears are realized. Beleg talked to the child Arenlea and she saw the image of Jarinea over me. I would have found the phenomena more curious than alarming had I not felt it myself. I would have been better off sealing the sword in with Jarinea. But the blade has power, it is the Sword of Doom. Such power, I had thought, would work wonders, the sword taken from a Horror used to slay Horrors. I would have given it to Beleg at first, but instead I decided I would uncover its secrets myself. But every day I became more convinced of the swords dark nature. In seeking to unravel its mysteries I may have done irreparable harm. The question comes to my mind constantly: what of the black rider? He bore the sword, brought it back to Jarinea, that I know. I do not know the rider's identity, but I do believe that he was what remained of the one who took Jarinea's sword before, or he was the last in a number of owners. But last is not exactly right. I have it now. In the library I could gain little information as to the natureof the sword, but there are many things that reveal themselves. It feeds on the blood of the living, but whether Jarinea or the blade itself draws on the power I do not know. And it somehow makes a connection between the world and Jarinea's imprisonment chamber. This link brought the black rider and his ghastly cargo to Jarinea when we slew it this time, but will the link also draw me? I do not like to think it might... Now, more than ever, no matter how much I wish to throw the sword from me, to pass it to someone else, I know I cannot. I must guard it, keep it from those who might cause harm and those who might be harmed. The temptation to seek the greater powers within are great, but I must resist them. I cannot allow this sword to bring Jarinea back into the world.
I think the battle with the Grim Legion was inevitable. It is strange, how they immediately sought to hinder our mission from the moment we arrived. I can only assume that their suspicions were justifiable based on past experiences, though I find it hard to believe that ones such as they could possibly have survived a true encounter. Their numbers must have been far, far greater. I tried to speak reason to them, but they would not listen. If I had known more about them, perhaps I could have made them see reason. In the end, their efforts proved to be misguided and their purpose obscured. I am sure they would have killed us all, and it is likely they would have slaughtered the whole village, either to cleanse the "Horror"-tainted area or in actuality to keep word of their mistake from spreading. Our purposes appear the same on the surface, but somewhere they lost the meaning, the desire for justice. For the Grim Legion there is only the end result, to be bought at any cost. I fear it may be part of this life.
In a way, the Sword called Doom represents the pursuit of this end without regard for the consequences. We all know that the dark presence resides in the blade. We have discussed what we might do with it. [...] When we battled Moltaa, one of my own kind turned to accursed nethermancy, I can hardly bring myself to accept it... it would not strike [her], it writhed and even pulled itself from my grip at two crucial points, only finally responding when... it knew there was life's blood to be spilled. Almost as if it recognized an agent acting in its own interest but in the end could not resist... [...]
It is good to be back in action, unraveling another Theran plot. I have seen first hand the power possessed by the Empire, the threat it poses. But strength alone does not make right. What can we do? It seems we hinder or destroy one plot only to stumble across two more. I do not know which poses a greater threat, the Theran Empire or the Horrors. It is true that we have seen only a fraction of the power possessed by the Horrors, but I believe that they can be dealt with systematically, if only we had the unity of purpose from before our sundering. So, the Therans are the greater threat in my mind. I fear for us all, for our homelands, though I do not believe the rest of the Blades feel the tie as strongly as I do. Indeed, many times I wonder if they miss their homes at all. For several, it seems that there is no home to miss.
Lendgar's plight weighs most heavily on my mind. His return to the group has given me a much needed chance to observe his sword technique. He has even taught me an interesting manuever for for countering an enemies attack. [...] In these past weeks, he has spoken little of his home and his kind. The T'Skrang are a strange kind, unlike all others in many ways. They are quick like the small lizards I recall from memories of my valley, though I do not know if this is true of all T'Skrang. I have encountered very few in my travels, Lendgar being the only one with warrior's skills. But they do remind me of the green darters. Strange that I should feel sorry for Lendgar and his kin. I suppose I just recognize a situation like my own, though the only kin of mine that I have met was the twisted Moltaa. I was forced to destroy [her] to save an entire village.
Trent has no home. I don't know which of us is more unfortunate... I who can never go home or him who has no home to go to... but I still visit for the extremely short moments that my path goes through and he still searches for some clue to his path. He will go soon, I am surprised he has not left already. He very well may have left the in the night the day before this, he never gathered with the rest of us to discuss out plans and thoughts on the Theran plots we had uncovered. He has left us the diminutive Tasmin, a windling, his apprentice I suppose. Not the first windling I have ever seen but the first I have observed at close range and the first ever to sit still for more than a moment... possibly. They look very much like humans [to me], the same features and build. Not that I know very much about humans. [...] I have seen that humans can become strong and make great warriors, but I don't believe that the small windling will ever have the stamina for this kind of life. I don't think that Trent has pursued her best interest in leaving her in our care. It is true that I know little about windlings, other than some little pieces of lectures from the past about the impatience and frivolence of other kinds, the windlings being the most extreme in these characteristics, but I do not feel that anyone would choose this lifestyle. Perhaps she did choose the arduous life, the continuous striving, and suffering, and training of an adept. Or perhaps she was pressed into it. I somehow have the feeling that something terrible has happened or is happening right now. Did this drive her from he homeland? And whatever events have been set in motion, it is the fault of the Therans, that much I am sure of.
My thoughts turn to the construction of a city for the Orks, a new Ork Homeland like that spoken of in legend. Of course, everyone should have a homeland, and the Orks have my sympathy in their sorrows. These bands of scorchers and raiders, however, have made me wary of this movement. We have encountered these primitive tribal groups all throughout our travels, they are truly a menace. To unite their unpredictable kind might cause a great problem in years to come. [...]
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