# The Journeys of Helspar



## Helspar (Jan 6, 2004)

The following are the journal entries from a character whom I used to play in a campaign which included the adventure of _ The Sunless Citadel_ and _The Return to the Temple Of Elemental Evil _. The Character's name of course was Helspar the wanderer an Illusionist who started these entries at about third level. The campaign concluded about a year ago with the dissolution of the group, RL geographic distances precluding regular play. But I found these recently and was rereading them so I thought I would share them with you. Unfortunately the dates in the campaign world weren't included in the entries, but it begins about mid summer. As the entries are written IC, Helspar (the character) often is unaware of info I as the player had. (Once upon a time I had actually played the original ToEE. The entries often express Helspar's (the character, not the player) opinions.

Thus warned, read on. If you have any questions or comments please post them. I will try to answer any if I can, or possibly sometimes I may make my own comments to explain some OOC things that happened, which may explain some of the bizarre events here in.

BTW: Some of you may already be familiar with the DM for this campaign, he signs on here as Nylarlathotep.

So without any further ado...


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## Helspar (Jan 6, 2004)

_*The Journeys of Helspar Entry One.*_

I do not know why I have taken the notion to put this quill to the sheet of paper, perhaps I sense that my days might end soon and I would have whoever finds this body not to be just another nameless corpse to loot. As I write this I find myself in the strange company of a self professed mentallist or so I am to presume. His actions are odd and I think he speaks to himself mostly. In fact I am not even sure why he journeys with me, not that I mind the company, But I don’t think I have even gotten the fellow’s name. At least when I talk it doesn’t seem so crazy. With this strange companion I am journeying to a small town named Oakhurst. It is simply on the way to my destination, The Great Fair. There rumor pulls at my curiosity and perhaps many questions I have may be answered. But I am getting ahead of myself. The reader of this record will need a little history if he is to fully follow my motives and need. No fear reader! As the great dragons say “Karpemna Diemas” I will be brief.

	I am the only child of Luasa Phosorum, My father I have never seen so I cannot speculate on any half siblings or any other relatives I might have. My mother was the only one I ever knew, and her only for a short time, She died of the choleric when I was but only five winters in this world. I will place a what I know of her here to honour her memory. Pale skin, and dark hair, she worked hard in the tavern that I knew as my earliest (and I think only) home. She had a kind smile and deep gray eyes. The tavern keeper was not kind to her, that I can remember, and repaid her by turning me onto the street when she died.

	The next few years of my life are just a blur of sleeping in stables, stealing food and earning the odd penny when I could. There is not much to tell about being cold and hungry all the time. I did learn a few skills then that come in handy once and a while. This came only to an end at the kindness of a stranger and the only master I would ever respect.

	In retrospect I think he took me in to keep me from robbing his audience. I must have followed Mabruk’s Magic Show around for a month before the master put me to work. It would be from Mabruk that I would learn the sleight of hand tricks used in the amusement of the villagers that we would travel to and from during the summer and fall. But I could also see the real magic behind the show. The other assistants were somewhat less impressed with the old man’s skill. In the beginning I mostly cleaned up after everyone and help pack and unpack the portable stage for every show. The winter would be spent readying for the next season, repairing the marionettes, making the fireworks, scribing leaflets to advertise the shows. I never realised until later how much the old man must of been able to earn from the shows, But I think he would have done it silver or no silver. It was the children he did the shows for. His apprentices did not share his views however. Needrin was there to learn magic, He scoffed at the old man’s “parlour tricks”. Welleger shared his views and was above the “card tricks.” Consequently they both abandoned Mabruk when his health failed, taking as much of his silver and items of use as they could. It was then that Mabruk taught me his most secret magics. Indeed most of my spells are copied out of his book. I spent a year and a half studying under Mabruk while his health continued to deteriorate. I think I was into my eighteenth year when Mabruk died. A simple stone marker lies on a hill beneath a tall pine tree. Someday I might return there.

	With pretty much no coin of any type to be found in my purse, I took Mabruk’s last advice and made to journey to the Sunlands of the fabled Shadowless Noon. It was in this direction that he thought I might be able to find a place to continue my studies. I too had heard of the tales of the mighty wizards who served the rulers of those desolate lands. I worked my way to the south over a long period of time. At one time I signed on with a merchant train headed for Freeport, A formidable guard if you could believe that I could shoot fire from my finger tips. Luckily I never had to actually had to prove it in combat. Unfortunately the other cut-throats assumed that I was wealthy and I became a target for them. I can thank Welleger for beating me so many times I eventually became passable with my staff. It was enough to keep the ruffians at bay. Lesson learned: don’t pretend to be tougher than you are.

	From there I earned passage aboard a ship for the southern reaches, mending sails. I perfected my sewing spell on those many days at sea. I hoped then never to travel aboard another ship again, or at least never to touch sailcloth again. Never the less the travel was relatively fast and I arrived in the great city of Ladrissar. I am not a good enough writer to describe the wonders which I saw there, so I will not waste this precious paper with my inadequate penmanship. After many months and less even more coins I convinced Asyrris Dan-Hiops adviser to the Sultan of Ladrissar to let me study under him. At first I thought that my success was too easy but Asyrris soon proved to be a less than kindly master to say the least. I am told of amazing sights in the Palace of the Sultan and I still believe them. Occasionally I would catch a glimpse of the halls so ingeniously created to catch all the rays of the sun to light their beautifully mosaic surfaces, or the fountains of wonder in the courtyards as I hurriedly passed through on errands for my new master. But for the most part I spent days tending to Asyrris’s grand study chambers, doubling duty as a night guard. I should not voice complaint, occasionally I was allowed to access great works in the study, And Asyrris rarely had command or scolding for me being too wrapped up in the politics of the palace. It was these political manoeuvrings that would get me in trouble later.

	I’d been there for about two years when trouble occurred. I’m guessing without winter it is more difficult to mark the passing of the years and the southrons mark time differently than we do in the northlands. As you might have guessed the palace of the sultan holds many an object that calls at the hearts of greedy men. While running a message for my master one night, I saw a strange person making their way through the massive columns of the great hall. Their furtive movements betrayed their purpose in the moonlight. I hid in ambush not thinking that someone with the skill to sneak past the palace guards might be more than a match for me. As the thief ran past my position I caught him across the shins with my quarterstaff. Much to my surprise, the resulting cry of pain turned out to be that of a woman! I was stunned to say the least. Well, enough for the robberess to recover and stick me with a strange star-dart. She then continued her flight. With what I thought was but a flesh wound I gave chase only to feel my limbs grow heavy and my eyelids fall like curtains. Drugged!

	The next few days were some of the most miserable of my life. Apparently justice in the city of Ladrissar is largely on the whims of the powerful. I was accused of the theft by one of Asyrris’s rivals in an effort to discredit him. Despite evidence to the contrary it was too easy to accuse a lowly servant, particularly one who was a foreigner. After about a week of “questionings” that largely consisted of floggings and casual beatings I was tossed into a cell to be forgotten. And so it seemed for an immeasurable piece of time. I wasn’t finished yet though. Later, when I was placed on a street repair crew, I engineered my escape. Suffice it to say that a bit of trickery was enough to distract the guards long enough to run for it. I later recovered my spellscroll having hidden it away as a precaution. It was my only possession now along with the strange star that poisoned me. I later learned that these are called shuriken. Using skills going back to my street urchin days I managed to clothe and feed myself. Then I thought it best to get out of Ladrissar as soon as possible. I hired on with a merchant heading to the northlands.

	I have done many jobs since then, and occasionally I pick up hints on the mysterious trail of the burglar I met on that unlucky night. Most turn up to be dead ends. It has been four years or so since that night and I am now coming up on my thirtieth winter. I don’t know what I’ll do even if I catch up with that mysterious person; but it seems to give my life purpose. Perhaps I feel that they are the only person who has any link to my past anymore.

	This entry must come to an end as I see that my companion has started off without me. Hopefully the road will bring at least better comrades.


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## Helspar (Jan 12, 2004)

_*The Journeys of Helspar Entry Two*_

I have new companions to travel with although maybe not for long. I hope that this isn’t the last entry in this short log. No sense brooding I suppose, I doubt that I can avoid anything fate has in store for me anyways. I should start with what has happened since I wrote last. Myself and the nameless mentallist reached Oakhurst two days ago. Upon our arrival we were approached by the captain of the guard, the lovely Filosial. She informed us about a group of adventurers who were on a mission for her and the town lord. She requested that we might help them out and in so doing help her townsfolk. We agreed, or at least I agreed and my companion is apparently staying. She said that she expected them to return in but a few days and that they might need our aid. She seemed worried, so not to leave a lady in distress I said I would wait and offer any assistance that I might be able. At least I sensed that we might be able to get a free room and a meal out of this. I was also willing to pause to gain some new company to the Fair. It was, after all, a long way.

	They were easy enough to mark the afternoon that they returned, A ragged and disorganised bunch consisting of a proud yet battered elven warrior, A youthful man who I marked as a rogue by his shifty and paranoid movements; and a strangely equipped fellow who’s dress I couldn’t place. They were missing one as Filosial had mentioned four. Introductions were made and the tale of their adventure was told. The village of Oakhurst was under the terror of the so called night demons. The source of these fiends was reported to be a place they called the “Sunless Citadel”; an ancient castle that, through some cataclysmic event had been buried beneath the earth. It was located near the Plains of Ash, A thoroughly desolate place. The elf who, named himself “Wicker”, spoke of battling hordes of goblins who they supposed served an evil druid who created the plant-like night demons. In an unexpected encounter with a shadow demon they lost their fourth companion in an inexplicable act of self sacrifice. What was I getting myself into? The mentallist suggested that they take a trip to the local church of Pelor to acquire some aid. I don’t think he mentioned his name to them and they were somewhat taken aback by his forward nature. His intentions were good though. When they returned later that day we spoke more of their previous adventures. It seemed that they would be good companions. I was slightly suspicious about the rogue, I sensed he was hiding something. A young fellow just in the early stages of his manhood judging by the sparse facial hair he was attempting to grow. Too young to be tied up in anything I might be interested in, but still, I must make a point to talk with him later if I gain his confidence. I had to smile when he, Pick was his name, spoke of how the mentally enabled one haggled like a Freeport fish-wife over some cure-alls with the local priestess. It would seem my companion would need some work on his people skills. The last of the trio seemed too distracted to talk. There was something familiar about the fellow but I couldn’t place it.

	We spent the evening telling tales and drinking ales. Maybe I should consider a different career. We agreed that they required some rest before returning to the citadel. It seemed prudent to be prepared. I spent most of the day preparing my gear for the next day. Sensing that I might not have time for a while, I pen this. The mentallist paces the floor of the tavern all day. He really worries me. If we are confronted with battle could he be a liability? What demons whip him to action? It might be worth following up that last train of thought, but then again, Maybe not. The rest spend their time resting and preparing. The man Valerick practised sparring with his shadow. I assumed from his movements he was of some skill with his hands. We will set out at first light tomorrow, I am told it is a half day’s journey.


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## Helspar (Jan 13, 2004)

*The Journey's of Helspar Entry Three*

I have time to write again as we take a minute to rest in this so called “Sunless Citadel”.

	If I was to venture a guess I’d say that this place is at least over a thousand years since it came to be buried here. Everywhere there is evidence of the newer inhabitants, a tribe of degenerate goblinoids who seem curiously well equipped. This itself is disturbing in its implications; is it this isolated group or has their entire race taken this advance? It might bear looking into, so I will bring our reader up to date on our progress so far.

	I speak of us in my new found comrades, including the sociopathic (psychopathic?) mind mage. We have delved deep into the earth apparently retracing some steps up to this point. I make this judgement by the evidence of battle upon our path. It would seem we arrived somewhat close to our intended mark when we took quite the precaution to avoid a “shadow demon” as Valeric described it. I never caught a glimpse of the fiend, But if it was what I think it was my, companions’ fear was well founded. Supposedly one guarded the Sultan’s harem and tales abounded of the creature being able to kill with but a touch. After we passed this strange chamber we progressed into what seemed to be more of the unwholesome arboretum that pervaded the rest of the structure. I would wager that we were somewhere below the original ground level of the citadel at this point. After a short skirmish with some of the wretched greenskins we found what appeared to be a lab of some sort. It is there that I found the extra parchment to write this on and a book which will investigate further later. I will try to give an accurate account of what happened next.

	Near to the lab a chamber led to the largest of the underground gardens. It was here under the unnatural fungus glow that we found our quarry. Beneath a giant tree of monolithic evil stood three figures. Unknowing what this trio’s intentions were I convinced the group to allow me to make our opponents make the first move. Summoning the most powerful magics I could I wove the light into a semblance of the mentallist. I know it was a bit of showmanship, but I wanted to see his reaction. It is a pity I can’t make more effective magic, but it would have to do. I used the phantom to parley with the foes. It seemed that their leader was indeed the foul druid that my companions sought. The other two were apparently some sort of henchmen, but who controlled them I could not determine. I sensed that my companions would join battle soon so I dispersed the magic; there was no more to be gained here anyways. The fray that followed was short and brutal. I decided to concentrate my efforts against the druid. Foes tend to lose their nerve for battle when they see their leader fall. The mentallist, whether he sensed my will or is an astute tactician, sought to take advantage of the magic I brought against the druid. Valeric and the elf held at bay several twig-fiends the trio sent against us. The speed of Valeric’s hands and the swing of the elf’s axe were impressive to behold! The rogue Pick vanished into the shadows I hoped he wasn’t up to something foolish. It turned out it was too much to hope for, for his actions nearly cost him his life. When most of our foes had been vanquished I attempted to direct our company to subdue the remaining foe. I thought perhaps some clue in destroying the “night demons” for good might be gained; but alas the blood thirst was upon them. The mentallist slew the restrained sorceress with a savage thrust of his strange blade. When he did this a voice not his own cried out a strange call. Or perhaps that is his real voice? More unsettling strangeness. One meets enough enemies in this world without having to worry about one’s friends.

	I sit now in the chamber of the “Tree of Doom” as Valeric has dubbed it and we must decide what to do next. Were the plant-possessed man and woman to be saved? Have my comrades accomplished their goal at last? Too many questions are left unanswered.


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## Piratecat (Jan 13, 2004)

Hey, will you please go back and add blank lines between every paragraph? It makes it MUCH easier to read from the screen.

Thanks! I'm looking forward to reading it, but I want to wait until my eyes stop swimming.


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## Helspar (Jan 14, 2004)

Sorry about that, I was just doing cut and paste from some word processor stuff which didn't quite work as I'd hoped, the board also has a nasty tendancy to boot me off mid-post if I take too long as well.

I must also apologize for my lack of writing skills as well, but it was a story that needed to be told.


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## Helspar (Jan 14, 2004)

_*The Journey's of Helspar Entry Four*_

I have more thoughts to pen. Many of them disturb me greatly and I write them here for posterity’s sake. I fear great evil may come of the actions of my companions and I do not know what to do about them. I am out of danger at least and have a chance to rest in the “Old Boar Inn” before continuing on my way. It has been two days ago since I last wrote and I hope that my actions since then do not come to folly, but of that I will let you dear reader be the judge.

	What had soon followed after my last entry was a heated argument. On one side was Wicker, Pick and myself. The lone mentallist opposed us. Valerick seemed too distant to take sides. After an examination of the bodies of the Tree-possessed and twig-blights I proposed that we should destroy the abomination of a tree to prevent further evil. It would seem that the twig-blights somehow spawn from it. Wicker and Pick shared my sentiments. Taking a cue from the High Inquisitor of Maglinstar; we decided that fire cleanses all. For practical purposes, I doubted that Wicker wanted to use his mighty axe for chopping wood. It was at this point that the Thought Warrior vehemently opposed us. In a stunning mighty tirade he berated us for such short-sightedness. He claimed that the tree could be turned for good purposes! I was taken aback. What did this man know about this tree? Is that why he came here? Or did the tree control him now to save itself? Damn him to Wee-Jas! I must have underestimated him. Why else would a man so willingly take up a quest such as this. It certainly explains his willingness to kill the druid. Perhaps he meant to supplant him. This did not bode well.

	Such as it is he managed to plant a seed of doubt in the rest of my companions. I think that cursed mentallist was willing to kill us all to achieve his goals. Without the backing of Wicker, Valerick and Pick, this was not the place to join battle, the mentallist would have his way. He made one slip however that alarmed me greatly in mentioning compatriots in his unholy quest. With that we returned to the lighted lands. It was late last evening that we made it back to the inn.

	With the first light I made to meet Filosial to inform her of the events that took place as well as related my fears and concerns. I said that I would try to keep an eye on the mentallist. If they had more problems to send word to Trail’s End. I thought that is where we would be heading to see the Great Fair. What business did the mentallist have there? Too many questions not enough answers. Must warn her tomorrow of the mentallist’s cohorts.

	On a sadder note; I took upon myself to inform mistress Kerwynn of the fate of her children, I spared her the grisly details. She was thankful somewhat for the news. I still hold the Grimoire of Sharwynn perhaps it would be the only reminder of their grim passing under the earth. I beseeched Kerwynn to let me study it, and perhaps it might hold some information. I did not mention that the mentallist still held the sword of her son. Perhaps someday it can be returned.

	I am going now to study another book I have found. Perhaps it too may hold some clues.


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## Helspar (Jan 25, 2004)

_*The Journeys of Helspar, Entry Five*_

My fingers are finally not too tender to write with. I was such a fool, eager for any new material I should have known that the Tome of the Treasures of the Fire Giants was a trap. I blocked most of the flame burst with my hands, but I no longer have to worry about shaving for a while. Most of Sharwynn’s Grimoire are spells I know or cannot learn unfortunately, but I am not anywhere close to finishing it. Tomorrow we head northwards to Halfling’s Down I hear that there is an inn there of unparalleled  comfort. The rest of my comrades seem eager to go and we leave in the morn. The weather seems like it will hold for the journey and the road seems in good condition ahead.


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## Helspar (Jan 25, 2004)

_*The Journeys of Helspar, Entry Six*_

I am writing this from the comforts of the Ploughman Inn in Halfing’s Down. I could write paragraphs extolling the virtues of this place. Good food, pipe weed to smoke, soft beds, all of the luxuries that make the days on the road worthwhile. The coins spent here I will not regret. Unfortunately the comforts here do not ease the worries of my mind. While most of my companions seem to take the opportunity to relax, The mentallist is restless to the discomfort of those around him. Even the normally hardened elf has taken a break to enjoy the good things in life. While we stopped to explore what this idyllic village had to offer the so-called Psi Warrior has ridden ahead on the path. One does not need to go seeking one’s doom, It will find you soon enough.

	I spoke with some merchants this evening about possibly of travel arrangements to the north. I am reluctant to mention my interests in Trail’s End; I would not want to scare off anyone before I got there to see if the rumours were true. These merchants would provide good cover and contacts should I further my investigations in that direction. They seem like decent fellows after all.

	I might note here that the young Pick seems very low key when we are about in civilisation; as if he does not wish to attract attention to himself. At least he makes no attempt to steal from these fine folk here. I would hate not to be able to come back. Valerick seems to be very withdrawn since I have met him. I wonder if he has always been this way or what could of changed his disposition. He does not seem to be the brooding type. The mighty Wicker at least is someone to talk to although our conversations inevitably turn to tales of hardship; and he has two hundred and some years of it on me. I think our turn towards the north however conflicts with feelings inside him. If our venture to Trail’s End proves fruitless for me perhaps I will travel south with him. I have, after all, no leads apart from that and no where else to go. Perhaps the elven folk can help with my magic studies at least.


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## Helspar (Jan 25, 2004)

_*The Journeys of Helspar, Entry Seven*_

The ride to Trail’s End brings surprises. The mentallist apparently prefers to be called “Kale” rather than “Hey You”. I prefer the company of my good steed Brindal despite his attempt to seem personable. At least she does not communicate with unseen accomplices over obscene distances. I will still sleep with one eye open on the mentallist, he is not to be trusted.


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## Helspar (Jan 28, 2004)

_*The Journeys of Helspar, Entry Eight*_

We have reached the busy town of Trail’s End. It will still be three weeks until the Great Fair officially opens but there are several merchants and traders already arriving to get the prime locations. Indeed this was our travelling companions’ plans. There is to be no rest for us, however, as the mentallist Kale wishes to drive on to a place called Korbach. What strange schedule drives his haste? This is unexpected. Although I wish the mentallist no ill, I cannot be sure of his intentions towards the rest of us. Wicker is also disappointed, he spoke of a yearning to hunt orcs to the east in the Goblin Rifts. I have never been there, but I hear of few that have returned. I must confess I did not feel it necessary to walk into the very nest of these creatures. Pick seems uncomfortable wherever we go. I hope that his past does not catch him too soon.

	I have told the merchants whence we go should any messages arrive from Oakhurst. I hope my suspicions are incorrect for everyone’s sake.


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## Helspar (Jan 28, 2004)

_*The Journeys of Helspar, Entry Nine*_

We have reached the village of Korbach and many strange events have taken place since I last wrote. I will try to recall them as best as I may here, but my penmanship may not do justice to describe some details, for that I will apologise beforehand.
	The way from Trail’s End to Korbach was taken quickly as the mentallist Kale drove us on. We rode in silence, our horses voicing the only complaints. Only a few other travellers were met on the road and they gave little news. Probably uncomfortable with talking to our motley band. I think they found the unwavering gaze of Kale somewhat unsettling. In any event we soon found the source of what most of the traveller’s feared on the road.

	Early on the morn on the day we reached Korbach we were ambushed by a group whom I assumed were intent on banditry. It turned out to be a group of fiendish lizard-folk. They soon found folly at their choice of targets in the blades of my friends, but not after we were sorely bloodied. I myself was wounded by the graze of one of their crude missiles. In fact it is lucky that all of us are not measuring our lengths in the earth now, as they surprised us well. Only one of the half dozen managed to escape into the swamp.

	Upon arrival we have found that the villagers of Korbach have indeed had problems with the lizard men, although it seemed that this change in their behaviour was recent. It was these problems that the mentallist seem to bring us here to rectify. Or so I thought, but he later did not know why we were here. I never know where that one stands. A note on the village of Korbach, one of the more dismal places I have visited in my travels. Each building in this place seems to be built to withstand siege, a reflection on the state of mind of the inhabitants. Where the stone was obtained in the swamp, I have no idea, but if the inhabitants choose to make their home in this dreary place, I can only assume there is money to be made here. After we met the apparent authority of this town the next day it would affirm my assumption.

	During that day we split our ways to conduct business. Valeric and myself made our way to the strange shop of an aged elf woman. Indeed that her age was showing is testament to her advanced age, I have rarely seen any of the fair folk who looked older than their middle years, and then only because they wished to. While we were there I wished to find the value of an item I acquired in the “Sunless Citadel”. I was unsure of it’s worth and wished to trade away and object held so long in evil. I also wished to acquire some items of medicinal value to us if we were going to travel long in this area. Valeric was of like mind. Despite the unerring accuracy and speed of his hands he was unable to keep the multitude of insect pests from bothering him. Consequently he sought a chemical solution, a wise idea if one were to be spending time in these fens. It was during this time away from the “psi-man” (An amusing story, Pick took to calling him this after I explained to him how the then unnamed Kale derived his strange powers and the meaning of the term psionic.) that Valeric confessed his distrust Kale, especially his strange shifts in personality. Demon-ridden was the term he used I believe. It is good to see that it is not just myself that he disturbs. I believe that this man Valeric, though of strange bearing, is indeed noble and good intentioned. Good sometimes hides itself in unlikely places.

	We met later in the inn to tell what we each learned during our day. Rest was not to be had yet however. The inn was subject to a raid by the lizard men and a chaotic brawl ensued. There is not much to tell of the battle, like all, blood was spilled on both sides. It was unfortunate that some of the villagers were injured in the fray. Of note though the lizard folk seemed to be intent on capturing the mentallist. We interfered with their mission, of course, but one wonders to what end they would want him. These questions will have to wait for the morrow, I am spent after tonight’s action and have yet to put my mind to mastering my magic again.


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## Helspar (Jun 7, 2004)

_*The Journeys of Helspar, Entry Ten*_

We are spending the evening in the hospitality of a man of the swamps named Roland. We have spent the day in canoe travelling into the Sunken Forest. It is a remarkable shelter Roland has constructed here, hidden from prying eyes and an island of dryness in the dismal dankness of the fens. It even  provides a measure of protection from the assault of the insects that pervade this place. Oh for a sunbathed day in the open air at sea or the cool quiet of a dessert night! I will be glad when our business here is finished.

	Roland has advised us to travel during daylight in the swamps, and that I agree. It would seem that the more fearsome of the marshland predators take the hours of night to hunt. I for one cannot see well in the darkness. Earlier today we had a nasty encounter with a few of the wetland inhabitants. I cannot say I am eager to meet what Roland claims is worse. There are frightful sounds beyond our sanctuary in the darkness, aside from those Kale makes in his sleep. At least the mentallist has been somewhat more “human” today for lack of a better word. I still didn’t trust him enough to share a boat with him.

	Tomorrow we will set out for the camp of the offending Lizard-folk. With this we trust Roland with our lives. I have faith that he will not lead us astray.

_Ed. Note: it has been a while since I have been able to post due to technical difficulties. My hardrive crashed and it has been some time to retrieve some info._


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## Helspar (Jun 7, 2004)

_*The Journeys of Helspar, Entry Eleven*_

My companions have got themselves into a pickle again! We were observing the camp of the lizard folk when Pick was discovered. Seeing the odds against us, I prudently called for a retreat but my words caught the ears of none. Battle was quickly joined with superior numbers against us. Already I had warned them that I could not help them should battle ensue. I had already saved Pick from a nasty encounter and had not the ability to do so again. I pen this hastily hoping that my judgement will be found wrong. There are some among them that count as many in battle, But I do not think that will be enough. May Fharlanghn guide their path to safety. I shall wait here until dark, Then I will see if I can help them should they have not returned.


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## Helspar (Jun 9, 2004)

_*The Journeys of Helspar, Entry Twelve*_

Miracles of miracles! My comrades have survived their assault against the lizard folk! A benevolent god must watch over them somewhere. They are badly battered and beaten, it is fortunate we have one such as Roland to aid us. I have witnessed him to indeed perform mighty feats of battle and fortitude. I trust it was his help that carried them through. The lizard men are not defeated however, and they know now of our presence in the swamps now and I do not believe that they will simply let us leave. We are on their home ground now and have lost the elements of stealth and surprise. We must come up with another plan, but with the odds heavily weighted against us now I don’t believe that we can prevail decisively against them.

	It is this that we have discussed tonight in the shelter that Roland has once again graciously provided. Some of my companions are not so thankful for the mean cover provided, but they are in no condition to complain given their own actions that brought them here. I have counselled a withdrawal from the swamp to let the lizard folk to gain some sense of security before attempting to make another foray against them. I will have to make a stronger case it appears; as Kale counsels against me. Wicker and Pick side with him as well, Pick having the gold lust seeming to consume his thoughts. Roland has remained neutral in our discussions I can only wonder what interest he has in this misadventure. I think he is having second thoughts about it as Kale incessantly badgers him for his advice; Almost as if he thought he was a conduit to some higher source of knowledge. It is only Valerick who seems to have been cautioned by the retreat. It is time for rest now, only Fharlanghn knows what path we shall tread tomorrow.


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## Helspar (Jun 9, 2004)

*The Journeys of Helspar, Entry Thirteen*

Much has passed since I last put quill to parchment; Very little of it of good tidings. And I know not of the fortunes it will bring. Our world has been turned on its side in recent catastrophic events. Of our return to Korbach there is of little note. It is indeed of small consequence to the events I will attempt to describe here. I fear my limited descriptive skills will be insufficient to bring gravity to our plight; so I will ask for the reader’s forgiveness beforehand.

	It would seem that after our return there was little thanks for my companions’s deeds. Though to the eyes of the villagers our heroism would seem somewhat less than deserved. Tact in these matters is something that my comrades should learn, with perhaps a touch less arrogance and scorn. Fortunately my counsel usually heads off ugly situations and needless bloodshed. We were to be put on trial for our apparent crimes against the people of the village, but the trial was not to be resolved. Higher powers had something drastic in store for us this day.

	Great magics ripped time and space apart before our very eyes. What they brought was the stuff of nightmares! A witch of powerful evil and three demonic warriors of fearsome battle prowess. A fifth was a strange man of the Brothers of Boccob; who, as it seems, the previous four were in pursuit of. Stranger and stranger, he appears to have known Valeric! If good or evil he sides with is questionable, but there was no time for questions. Battle was soon joined in the confines of the master’s hall. The slaughter that ensued defies description. I attempted to bring my spells against them but to no avail, their resistance to it was formidable! The valour of Master Gorant’s men was also in vain, they fell like wheat before the reaper’s scythe. Even the attempts of my colleagues were to naught. Flight seemed our only hope. The Gods dealt us a foul hand that day as our efforts were blocked by an unexpected full-scale attack of the lizard-folk! An ill omen indeed! Were these creatures in league with the fiends? I led my companions to safety outside of the hall only to discover some were missing in the chaos I had wove to aid our escape. The fiends were soon on to us and we retreated to the river with heated pursuit. Roland and I quickly tended to a badly wounded Wicker in a quick moment of peace. It does not seem like we will be able to thank the apothecary for it as most of the village was in flames. Only Fharlanghn can count the numbers who tread the road of the dead this day.

	Since I am writing this you assume we escaped that day; Indeed all my companions evaded death’s shadow another day. The list of questions seems to grow longer each day, while the one of answers is always far too short. Who is this old Jolem who knows Valeric? Why do the others chase him? And where is he now? I guess I am thankful that I can still add to the list.


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## Helspar (Jul 14, 2004)

_*The Journeys of Helspar, Entry Fourteen*_

Indeed the fate of Kobach is that which we feared. Not one building stands, and none alive walk. These “Yellow Sign Hunters” as Valeric has called them are demons indeed. If their actions are any indication of their pervading evil, Then they are dire foes we face. It seems that they chase the wretch Jolem and seek some Ancient tome that he possesses. Valeric himself apparently has witnessed the Tome’s retrieval by Jolem’s brotherhood, The Purple Robes of  Boccob. I have not personally put much faith in the uncaring one, Magic comes from within, not without, but I digress. Fortunately Valeric himself does not place much stock in the old buggar.

	We now chase the wizard’s trail which seems to lead back towards Trail’s End. Our pace is great and I cannot believe that one so invalid could keep ahead of us, much less elude our chase. Fortunately I doubt that the “Hunters” follow the same trail. I hope that I can trust in the judgement of my comrades when we catch him.

	Which brings me to another matter, what to do about the young Pick. I know Wicker would as soon leave him for dead on the roadside and I wonder if he might be justified in thinking that way. Regardless of the young man’s motivations, he has betrayed the trust of his companions. While I am hesitant to condemn him for his actions, I know not now if I can wholly trust him again. It goes beyond simply watching my money pouch as I sleep. It is his motives I question now, It is a dark path I fear he has chosen.

	We should reach Trail’s End before the sun peaks in the sky tomorrow.


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## Helspar (Jul 21, 2004)

_*The Journeys of Helspar; Entry Fifteen*_

We have learned much since reaching Trail’s End, I will try not to miss anything important, but, if I do it is by chance and not purpose. Much business was attended to since our arrival, the important things, rest and food in our bellies. Equipment was restocked, much to the thanks of the coins we liberated form the lizard folk. It appears that word of Korbach’s demise has not reached here, and I cautioned my companions on their words lest we be associated with it unjustly. I have managed to replace my lamented lost Brindal with an even tempered beast of pinto color. I think I’ll name her Khalan. But backed to important matters. As not even the news of Korbach has reached here neither has that of the fiends who razed it. This is a thought both good and bad. Jolem on the other hand was easily located.

	In the company of the master of the village he has sought refuge. It is this reason I speculate that the “Hunters” no longer dog him. The tower of master Mestoph seems at first glance to be well warded, I did not test it, use of my magic in his sanctum would be a serious breach of good will. I hoped that Pick Could be trusted within its confines. It is here that we learned the full extent of the trouble that Jolem would drown us in. Some of my companions seem too willing to throw their lives at the feet of this quest. Only Wicker seems displeased at the prospect of another possibly foolish quest.

	The evil which Jolem would have us quash resides in an abandoned temple to the east. It would seem that these “Yellow Sign Hunters” are tied up with a reemergent force occupying it. Mestoph seems to fully endorse an expedition to the temple, yet to what end I am unsure. This Book of the Unspeakable Ones that Jolem possesses is thought to be the key. Valeric is also tied to the book, or at least its finding. I will at least stand by this man if his fate is entwined with it. I question the motives of this Jolem, it was his irresponsible action that brought about the slaughter of Korbach. We have decided to investigate the trail to the temple with great haste and we leave right away.

	It worries me that Wicker has decided to part company with us on this adventure, but his heart pulls him southwards I sense. We will have new companions though. Jolem himself wishes to see this through. Kale has found it seems a kindred spirit in the taverns of Trial’s End apparently a religious man but none like I have ever seen, especially if he is a servant of Pelor as he claims. I sense none of the patience and serenity of a man of the cloth, only aggression and relentless drive. He calls himself Cromwell, and if he is on the same terms as Kale, I sense trouble ahead. Maybe I should follow Wicker south.


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## Helspar (Jul 31, 2004)

_*The Journeys of Helspar; Entry Sixteen*_

By the mercy of all the gods we live! The way to the temple is fraught with more surprises than I care to mention. We even encountered one of the deadliest creatures this world has to contend with. I think it is only the luck of the foolish that I am able to write this from the safety of the Inn of Clowns. In retrospect I almost feel sorry for the defeated beast. My companions tore the creature apart like animals upon its demise. In the battle that we waged with it in the gatehouse, a former outpost of temple, it was discovered that more lies below. Perhaps some clue from the past that might help us? We return in the morn.

	Of other matters, I have decided, after some deliberation to help the Boccobian, Jolem with his studies. He seems to be of some lesser ability in the magical craft, so I might be able to aid him. Although he is of somewhat questionable morality (All Boccobians seem to me on the neutral ground of loyalty, their magic always placed before other concerns.),his quest for knowledge seems true. I will teach him some spellcraft and I can use Sharwynn’s Grimoire as a text. I am not going to give him access to my spellscroll, I have to keep some secrets up my sleeve after all. Why do I do this? If some one wouldn’t have helped me long ago I don’t know where I’d be. Let’s say that it is a way of paying back old Mabruk. If I should perish in the company of these men at least mayhaps the memories of Mabruk and the ill-fated Sharwynn will live on.

	Lastly I have finally found time to send word to Filosial in Oakhurst. If I can at least spread word of growing evil then perhaps the forces of good will not be caught entirely off guard. Word has it that Wicker lingers yet in the area. That is good, I may need his aid yet. The night grows late and I must yet study my scrolls.


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## Helspar (Jul 31, 2004)

_*The Journeys of Helspar; Entry Seventeen*_

I write this from the darkness in the depths of the gatehouse, in a moment between study by Jolem’s lamplight. We have rested finally after my comrades have spent their fury against the roving packs of ghouls and other creatures of the night. It seems as though we have defeated their master, one of the priests bearing the ochre robes described before by the old man. Jolem seems to require much study to complete his daily tasks, Not only to his magic but to the “Master” of his magic as well. From what I know, I doubt Boccob pays much heed to the desires of his acolytes, but to each their own. Magic comes from the will of its wielder,not some uncaring source, It is driven by creation, will, desire and passion. Nonetheless it is this complete devotion (and lack of any other activity) that brings Jolem to the ill health he is in. The only other sharing the waking vigil is our captive Trog.

	In a way I feel shame for the captive’s treatment, my companions can be heartless and brutal sometimes, particularly the bloodthirsty Kale. None deserve the fear that torture and vengeful deeds bring. He is captive out of necesity though, as he might be able to provide some clue as to the real threat that hides below this place, and the true nature of the priests and their gnollish servants. I will make sure he at least has a quick death.

	It seems that this creature was in league with these foul priests, but not of their order. I speculate that we have diminished their number, but I doubt this trog acts alone in aid of the priests or in habitation of this place. It also does not seem that the Dragon was of any part of their plan either, possibly just an unhappy coincidence. Since we have returned though we have had little time to ponder these troubling events. Rather I have been chasing my companions on their rampage through the catacombs beneath the old gatehouse until they were completely spent. At times I was hard pressed to keep up with them, the Boccobian even harder. No time for questions then, and none to answer now. I see that Kale’s snoring has disturbed Jolem’s study again. He sleeps the sleep of one with clear consience that one, satisfied in the death he has dealt this day and apparent wrongs righted. I should roll him over before he wakes the others.


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## Helspar (Dec 4, 2004)

Here's something I came across the other day, Helspar himself.







More to come...


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