I am succumbing to the despair of this place.

It is no longer a vague fear that haunts me. It is a fact. Each day I feel myself slip further and further into the darkness of my own thoughts and there is nothing that I can do to prevent it. Another month, perhaps two, and I will be a different person altogether, and probably not worthy of returning with the rest of them, should we manage to fulfill the prophesy.

I could blame Echi, and I often do, but it is something far more subtle and insideous that stalks me. Back when the world was sane, I’d spend days cloistered away in my long-lost academy in the great wood, studying and experimenting. But I could walk out any time and see the brilliant sun shining down on the world, feel her warmth, and smell the rich smells of the forest. There is no relief here. There is no weak and diffused ray of daylight that finds its way through a crack into this place. It is dark and stony and unforgiving. There is no hope here. I brought hope with me, but have lost it.

If I cannot find a way to resist this mounting depression, I will have to stay, and no matter what changes are wrought by the good that we do and the evil that we slay, it will never be a happy place. There is too much blood in these stones, too much sorrow. The ghosts have taken root and will not be dislodged.

If there is a bright spot in all of this, it is Reneel. His faith in us and especially in me, though born of innocense, is an island of sanity. Of all of us, he is the least able to defend himself. Yet he never questions our most outlandish plans, and never hestitates to go along, although we’d all understand if he chose to stay back. He is a quiet boy, and soft-spoken. He doesn’t glory in the killing we do too often as many of his peers might. He stands with us, does as he is told without hesitation, and he takes his licks, too often for my taste, without complaint. If I must risk my life to see a young man placed on the throne, I couldn’t ask for a better one than Reneel.

We were faced with the nastiest sort of test–nine pedestals, nine glass boxes, nine books and traps on every one. It was bad enough that there were so many to get through, but worse yet was that I could summon little interest in defeating the challenges. It is a curiosity of the dispel magic incantation, a staple of every caster’s magical tools, that it is nigh on impossible to overcome spells cast by one who is significantly more advanced than one’s self, and perpetual traps are almost always crafted by one who has reached the pinnacle of their magical career.

We were left with the next-best approach: layer as much protective magic as possible on Sly and hope that none of the traps is sufficiently nasty to penetrate his defenses and kill him outright. That is what we did. When we finished, Sly was so well protected that he could probably have slain the rest of us. It is a testament to my souring thoughts that I considered the possibility as I cast those spells upon him.

Sly faced many traps that day, some magical and some mechanical. He was able to neutralize a good number of them, but many surpassed his skill and, for each of those, he paid a price. Had it not been for Arliss and his incredible healing spells, Sly would not have lasted through the poison needles, noxious gasses, blasts and piercing arrows. As each pedestal was overcome and its book retrieved, the pedestal would sink partway into the floor with a mechanical click, and a portion of the floor would sink down, slowly revealing a stairway.

One of the traps released golden scarabs that were very tough, difficult to kill and fast. They would light upon their target and burrow beneath the skin, causing excruciating pain. Jeridiah and Elijah were both stricken. Arliss took care of Elijah, but Jeridiah allowed Sly to practice his surgeon’s skills on him, and Sly did manage to extract the thing at the cost of considerable blood and pain. I would have chosen Arliss for the job.

Another trap created a large area of darkness and grasping tentacles. Jeridiah used a spell to pull all of the party to him and saved us, but the darkness kept creeping toward us. I finally used a wall of stone to contain it. We waited for three hours, then Jeridiah took the wall down. The effect had disippated and we managed to avoid triggering it again.

When all of the books were rescued, the spiral stairs finally opened into a narrow hallway. We followed it down and proceeded to wind our way through a series of level switchbacks terminating into a room with a large, black stone obelisk. Much to my surprise, we were confronted by two well-appointed drow warriors, one with and axe and another weilding a sword.

Sly, perhaps convinced that the obelisk was important to overcoming this latest challenge, tumbled between the two warriors safely and put his hand on the the stone monument. Elijah charged the axeman, walloping him extremely hard. Talon came around the corner and fired two arrows from his bow at once, both of them sinking deep into Axe, a feat compounded by his having to shoot around Elijah. Staggered, the drow fought on.

Both Axe and Sword focused their attacks on Elijah. This was good tactics. If they could slay him, they would have one less to worry about. Our elven comrade was soon covered in cuts and bruises, but he is extremely tough and, trusting that Arliss would be there to put him back together, he stayed in the fight and quickly finished Axe with a shattering blow from the hammer.

A green-grey cloud of smoke sprang up all around us choking me with its acrid fumes. I stumbled forward, finding my way out of the cloud, gasping. Arliss barked out a command, and across the room to the right of the obelisk another drow came into view, his invisibility revealed. Instantly, sly was by the drow mage’s side and stuck a dagger in him. 

Marqes and Elijah were quick to charge the drow, who fought a bit more skillfully than a wizard would be likely to do. Behind me, the sword-wielding drow was down. I’d missed that event while suffering from the fog cloud. A number of feathered shafts barely protruded from his chest, having sunk deep and bit hard. There was a bank of solid fog in front of me, between me and the drow mage. I was so disoriented, I didn’t know if the drow had conjured it or if I had. I cast dimension door to the back of the room and landed in a clear area. A fireball exploded in the midst of my friend just as I arrived, but they were undeterred and soon hacked the mage to near-ribbons. A couple of zipping arrows finished him. It was Talon’s day to impress.

There was plenty of magical gear on the three drow, but none of interest to me. Their breastplates and amulets both the mark of Llolth. 

We decided to rest, and by rest I mean everyone else lay down and took a nap or had a drink or a smoke, while I spent the rest of the day identifying the magical properties of the books. One of them, a grimoire titled "The Firecaster" written in Underdark, improved one’s fire spells and granted the reader resistance to fire. I set that one aside for myself. The others went to those who might best benefit from the effects, except two which were tainted and fit for nobody except drow.

Each book would take many hours to read and receive the benefits, so I put mine aside until a time came when I could focus.

I have been told that my writing is long-winded. It is a mark of my state of mind that I have overcome that problem without really trying. It is hard for me to write about things that I care little for, and I care little for much of what I see and do. I will feel fortunate if I find the motivation to write again, barring some unexpected reversal of my current trajectory. Be well.