The tower has been dealt with, as much as we could at any rate. So much about it was beyond me, in understanding and skill, that it makes me question whether the wraith took more than merely drops of my health in that attack. Am I diminishing in other ways?
I have a spell I hope to try, a greater restoration, but I need a considerable amount of diamond dust to sacrifice in order to attempt it, and while we found some in the tower, I do not know if it is enough to use it, or whether it is even going to work at all. I feel I have to try though, for if the malady of my constitution continues I will be of little use to anyone, nevermind the Three.
I do not wish to consider the tower, but I feel as though this record would be incomplete without it. It was a planar beacon from the ancient elven empires that once stood here. The mage who'd had it made, Thalivar, was still there in spirit, one that was unhinged and aggressive. And yet for all he was a spirit in some way, there was no sense of the dead from him, or undead. Even the wraiths I had fought before were clearly of that sort, and yet he was not. What he was, I do not know, and likely never will. Whatever he was, or had become, he has been banished off to wherever he came from originally, hopefully never to return.
The beacon is off now. From here I can hear the screams of those who had been trapped in the petrification field, still aware. I have left the group for the moment to deal with them alone, for I am certainly not the one to give kind words they will likely need. Rhogar, the cleric of Leilon, is far more adept at that than I am. The group knows where I have taken myself to, for after the events in the tower I needed some time away from people, away from the rash decisions of the group. I am so very weary.
Idris is restored, in some manner. Once feebleminded, he is now suffused with information from that tower, an ancient experiment successful, but one that has left him even more absentminded and impulsive than before. Neverember's contact, Effie, has proven herself a thief, in that she had pocketed a ring from the tower without showing it to the group, only to then use it later without thought to consequence in front of us all. Arya, I do not know what to think of still.
I am far from the mountains in this damp and derelict town. The pull of my duty is still gone, or I am unable to hear it, but the mountains have been my home for so long, and I yearn for them. My path leads towards the Mere, possibly never to return, and yet go I must.
The scope of my powers continues to grow. I believe I may be able to ask the Three for divine aid in the matter of contacting the Dead Hand. If I was able to speak with the person or group of the Dead Hand, safely, it may well be that some of the trouble in getting there may be negated if we could come to some understanding. I dare not ask for transport, for I remember well the comment from Bhaal about taking over the position there. I am not power hungry, but it is far more likely that the Dead Hand is. My lack of ambition in this way is, I have come to understand, somewhat rare.
Time will tell, I suppose. The Three are busy with their own plans in any case, and may have no attention to spare me.
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Next entry: Journal entry 2_07 - Providence