The Lost Seekers

Baldrin's Journal Entry #12

The fall of my Friend

I write this entry not for my own story, but for that of Thamior, a brave elf that fell to the aggression of a brutal enemy. I write as a reminder to myself. Though Thamior may be gone, he also lives on in the body of his enemy, as one resurrected by the power of the forests. I write to stay thankful to those of the trees, that I am still able to travel with a friend. I write to remember that Seraphim must be brought to bear for all the suffering he inflicts.

The final moments of Thamior’s first life are a brutal warning to those that are forced to fight alone. In a small street in Silglen, a building was dropped on Thamior, Endolynn and Lysander. Though it missed Endolynn and Thamior, it buried Lysander beneath its wooden trunk and branches. I, and Jarvan were possibly a hundred paces away, and though we rushed forward to assist our brother, some foul beast with the luck of a devil stood between us and him. Even as we fought the beast, our compatriots were beset by two rogues of disrepute. Thamior and Endolynn fired off spells to try and stave off their attackers, but to little avail. The fiends simply brushed off the waves of fire that Endolynn threw against them, and laughed at Thamior’s beams of cold. As Thamior and Endolynn stumbled about, trying to fend off their calculated attacks, Lysander struggled under the boughs of the fallen tree. The beast before I and Jarvin dodged our attacks, almost seeing them before we’d made them. He feinted and dodged, even using the debris of the tree to put us out of sight of our allies.
The rogues that surrounded Thamior and Endolynn brought unnatural darkness into being on their victims, and used the sounds of their breathing and blinded steps to move around them and put them into a position of fatal weakness. Even as Lysander was struggling out of the fallen building in the form of a black bear, they lifted the darkness and struck Thamior simultaneously. In his dying moments the fiends rended him from the front and back. They drove their shortswords into the soft flesh of his sides, and tore him apart. The last thing that Thamior would have seen was the smiling face of the Tiefling whose body he would soon inhabit.
The final blows to the rogue that struck the fatal wound came from Endolynn. Yet, the damage was done. Thamior was a good man. He was my friend, and though he lives on I mourn the life he has left behind, and wish him luck in his new one. Good luck my friend.



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