A'leigh's Reports and Other Findings

This typed up report was placed on C’laude Riegan’s desk the morning before the duel between Ser Jude and Ser Gabriel. It reads as follows.

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I and five others formed a group to descend into the bowels of Witchdrop to tend to the dead that met their end on the ice below and dispatch of any voidsent feasting on their remains. The mission was overall a success, but I feel it would be remiss not to pen down some of the experience should Verdant Wind choose to do its own expedition into the darkness. Perhaps this could be of some use to us while probing the ruins we have recently uncovered in the Saltmoor and Gaspard both? Or perhaps this is a way of releasing some of the pressure that still lingers on my mind after it is all said and done.

Forgive me if the account is disjointed and disorganized.

On lightsday on the third umbral moon at dusk, we gathered at Camp Dragonhead. I had been asked to attend by Ser Lord Jude Lohengrinne, and I cannot lie and say that an adventure with an old friend did not spur on my desire to go. We both arrived early, and I let Jude warm his hands by one of the braziers while I fiddled with the aetherial lantern prototypes.

(They held up quite well for the amount of beating they took, but more on that later.)

Soon we were accompanied by a verdant knight of a house I did not recognize, a viera gentleman with kind eyes, and Inquisitor Travanchet. After a brief discussion of our roles, we set out. I was to be in the middleguard with the viera gentleman (henceforth referred to as Vermillion, as I do not believe I obtained his name), while Jude was to take the rear. The Verdant Knight (who I will call Verde) claimed the van position, with no objections from the rest of us. Ser Travanchet took to the skies to prevent us from being ambushed, which I believe is the only reason we did not join the souls down at the bottom of the ravine.

It was quiet, and there were piles of snow that gave me pause. They reminded me of the igloos of the mists back in Gaspard, ice laden elementals keen on tricking people into rest so they can pull life straight from their bones. I had hoped to do some investigating before coming to any conclusions. Verde sunk his sword into one of the masses, striking what I could only describe as a crystal coffin.

If I may write plain, it all immediately went to shite from there.

The world screamed as voidsent came upon us. I wish I had known their names, but truthfully, I am no expert. They came in packs, seemingly attracted by Verde's blow. Jude and I managed to fend off what we could, but the more we slew, the more fell in line to take their due from us. I cannot remember calling for aid or not, but our partners did not come to aid us. The voidsent teeth were relentless against our skin, and while we managed to drive them off...

The hunger that set in after lingered in our bones. I know not what Jude and Vermillion heard, but I could swear I heard the whispers of Lonato. He bid soft words, cruel ones, asking me to rest and to feast in equal measure.

It was horrible.

Verde focused on the apparition that crawled from the tomb he disturbed. A knight of some measure, though I could not make out his face. Verde was apologizing, begging, nearly, for the chance to make things right. The ghastly knight stood in front of him, unmoved. Jude was dying, some blackened rot beginning to crawl along his flesh and bones and had long since fallen unconscious in my arms.

I do not know how I did not find the same rot upon my skin. Perhaps it was there, and I was too focused on inching my way the pair in the gloom. The knight had been explaining that he had been the one purging voidsent from Witchdrop for all these years as turned his gaze upon me. I offered to take on his duties of preserving the chasm, but he refused. The seal had been broken, and he was slowly leaking out into the lifestream.

I wish I was bold enough to press my offer, but at that time, I could admittedly only think of what to say in order to ensure Jude saw another sunrise. Perhaps it was selfish of me.

The shimmering knight offered to cleanse our hurts in exchange for us returning his beloved bones to him from the depths of Witchdrop. Verde and I agreed without hesitation. The spectre had kept true to his offer, and we had to keep true to ours. Jude, full of vim and vigor once more, told Ser Verde in no uncertain terms to take the rearguard while he led the front.

I did not have the energy, nor the compassion for the elezen to say otherwise as we walked deeper into the unknown.

The beast at the bottom of Witchdrop was massive. It scaled to the ceiling, having nestled its writhing, pulsing body in a nook where it rested atop eons of bones. The smell was cloying, sticking to skin and hair long enough that after three baths and two rounds of oils I still do not feel clean.

It tried to swallow us whole, using foul magics and teeth both to sap the energy from our bodies. I recall laying in the snow, the voidsent's tendrils wrapped around my ankle to draw me into one of its auxiliary maws before it was blinded by something that could only be sunlight. It came from Vermillion, the knight from before standing behind him with hands on both shoulders.

It hits me as I write this that we are still in his debt. I should return to Witchdrop sometime soon and decorate his resting ground, if only to soothe my own conscience of the debt I can no longer repay in full.

The rally from Vermillion allowed me to cast one final spell, one that I am still paying for dearly in the days since. I do not believe I have ever frozen something so large before, but as it crystalized to the wall, Jude banished it to whence it came with a blazing strike. As the fragments of it flitted around our worn gathering, catching bits of the light from my lantern before mingling with the snow, the knight moved to an indention in the ground. Inside of it were bones of a Spoken. I believe that, in life, it may have been taller than me. But as I stare at my reflection in the mirror, tongue running along the sharpened pointer teeth that match the skull I held in my hands, I wonder if we were so different after all. I wrapped the bones in a sheet I had brought with me for transporting the dead, and carried it tight in my arms as we began the limping trek back to where it all began.

The others were silent as we interred the bones. I knelt in front of that crystalline coffin and placed the wrapped body in the arms of the knight, perfectly preserved aside from the wounds Ser Verde had scored upon his flesh. A sense of peace washed over me as I watched the two spirits, reunited finally in death, move on in a fading light like a candle being blown out for the evening. I do not know if my companions could see what I did, two lovers held tight, foreheads pressed together as if whispering the kindest of secrets. I did not think to ask them.

Ser Travanchet joined us shortly after, wounded by his own battles in the sky with voidsent that took wing rather than claw. He had some bodies bound on the back of his steed, and after some convincing, took the bones of the knight and his lover as well. I believe they are back in the Tribunal crypt now, though I shall see to possibly getting them placed back where they left this plane as soon as I am able.

As we limped back towards Camp Dragonhead, I took the time to examine the lantern I had brought with me into the darkness. It glowed a brilliant blue, the wisps of extinguished life happily swirling within like snowflakes at play. I believe that without a proper lure, all that is attracted to it would be those that wish to leave to return back to the lifestream. I can only assume that they were pleased and eager to leave, as the lantern's glass had sustained a crack along its front during the battle. Perhaps I would have been able to offer more sanctuary and release if it had not been broken in the scuffle? While I did not construct this, all I can recommend at the time is a thicker glass. Though perhaps this can be avoided if one does not take it into combat like a fool.

Tomorrow is Jude's duel with Lord Angelique. As much as I wish to continue on with my musing, I must rest. I had attempted, without success, to convince Jude to move the duel back a few suns so he can recover from his voidsickness. All I can do now is wish for the best.

To you and yours, everlasting,

A'leigh Duran