Infernum constringitur

From the journal of Johanna Schwarz:

13. Vorhexen, 2498

Today was a long chain of horrors. The Sea of Claws has definitely lived up to its name, although the Sea of Fangs would be equally apt, as we learned. Lashed more or less continuously by foul weather, our ship neared the dreaded Norscan coast, when a foul manyheaded beast rose from the waters and nearly decimated both the ship’s crew and my team. Even though I have heard of monstrosities from the deep assailing ships, I am sure the attack was no coincidence, but vengeance for us rooting out the foul Stromfels cult in Wulfhafen. The dark powers do not take kindly to having their plans thwarted.

We managed to fight the beast off, but not before it almost tore Eldur’s shoulder off. I rushed over to him and managed to staunch the torrent of blood with a healing elixir and a few hastily wrapped bandages. The look on Sunnivas face as she ran to her stricken brother shook me. It was as if a part of herself had been chopped off, and the relief washing over her as she realized he would survive made me feel, for a moment, satisfaction in having succeeded in at least saving one person.

Even in his extremely weakened state, Eldur showed that his command over the raging fires of Aqshy has grown considerably, as he was able to heal some of my wounds through cauterization. It hurt like the lashes of a pit-fiend, but I tried not to show it, not to seem ungrateful for the help it actually provided.

The beast did quite a number on our ship, crushing railings and smashing parts of the deck. However, our erstwhile ship’s mate Piet assured us that needful repairs could be made while the voyage continued.

The ominous occult compass our employer has provided us with points straight inland into the snowcovered wastes of Norsca. However, in order to try to ascertain how far our trek inland would be, I suggested sailing parallell to the shore for some time to triangulate the possible position of our objective. Piet assured me he would be up to such a task. He seems a capable seaman and navigator. I am happy he is part of the team.

14. Vorhexen, 2498

Sometimes I think that the book of our lives, when we get to read it in Morr’s chambers, will turn out to be an endless list of all the regrets we have. The chances we did not take, the opportunities spoiled, the friends spurned, the wounds we inflicted. I am sure mine will be voluminous.

Damn and blast all superstitious sailors and their narrowminded fears and demands. And thrice-damned be my own stupid temper! I fear I may have ruined another friendship and jeopardized the team’s future safety. All because a brash young man acted like a brash young man, and I couldn’t separate my own history from what’s going on here and now.

The day after the fateful sea-beast’s attack, as we were sailing eastwards along the rugged coastline, I was called to the cabin of our captain, Daniel. It turns out that the crew of the ship, ignorant and fearful, have started blaming the misfortunes of the ship on the fact that we have amongst our contingent a wizard, and a fire wizard at that. Worse, the captain, that oaf, has it in his mind that it is Mannan himself who has punished us for this. Many of the sailors want to toss Eldur overboard, nevermind that he risked his life - and nearly lost it! - fighting to save many of them. Never mind that he has healed several people. No, the wizard is the problem.

I tried assuaging the captain’s fears, and met with some support from Piet, who said that we instead should offer more sacrifices to Mannan. But the captain insists that Eldur must be gagged at all times. I managed to talk him down to asking Eldur to stay in his cabin for most of the time - which I imagined should be easy, given his current health. Oh imagination, the sweet illusionist and trickster!

When I went to Eldur’s cabin to deliver the bad news, he took it a lot worse than I expected. I tried explaining how we had to try to not let things get out of hand, being stuck on this boat way out to sea near hostile shores. His response was to conjure a small flame in his hand, and mutter something about “yes, let’s not let things get out of hand…” with a dangerous glint in his eyes. That’s when I hit him.

I don’t know what came over me. No, that’s a lie. I do know what came over me. I’ve seen that impulse before, that inability to not tempt fate, dancing on the edge of chaos. The forces at Eldur’s command are powerful in the extreme, but also oh so risky. I’ve seen war wizards of the empire torn apart by their own magic spinning out of control. Others I’ve seen consumed by the dread promise of power which whispers in the Winds. I can only imagine the control and strength needed to use such power without being corrupted.

And yet, Eldur treats it like a toy. And uses it to threaten me!

So i slapped him. Like a petulant child. I shouldn’t have. All because I saw Wilfred, not him. That same smug look, the same arrogance in the face of danger. The same lack of restraint. Ironically, it was me who lacked restraint most of all at that point.

I am sure he hates me now. Which makes me fear that I will not be able to help him stay back from the edge. In my mind I see him falling into the maelstrom of chaos. I can only pray I will be wrong.

15. Vorhexen, 2498

More bad news. Piet has finished his calculations. Our goal is three weeks’ march inland in the frozen wastes of Norsca! My heart sinks at the thought. However, we are committed now.

We decide to brave sailing into one of the “fjords” along the coast, to cut our travelling time. Sunniva says she knows there is a settlement at the mouth of a river in the inmost part of the fjord, and wants to go there to seek information. Torgil wants to accompany her, for safety.

I reluctantly agree to this. I am counting on Sunniva to know what she is doing, and not take unnecessary risks. After all, she is from these shores, and knows the dangers, and has shown herself to be both clever and resourceful so far. But she has an impulsive, daredevil streak which I fear will get her in trouble.

That night, while we fret awaiting their return, incandescent lights dance across the sky. It is both mesmerizing and beautiful. However, the folklore says that what we are seeing is the forces of chaos dancing in the sky. I don’t know if that is true, but we are closer to the realms of chaos than ever, and it serves us well to remember it.

16. Vorhexen, 2498

Sunniva and Torgil returned. Their mission was successful, it seems. Possibly a bit too much. They managed to hire a dogsleigh, pulled by four giant dogs that look more like wolves than anything else. However, the price was steep, and she also, for some unknown reason, hired a young norscan boy as a sleigh driver - Valmir Wolfclaw. I rue this decision. He has clear marks of being a chaos worshipper, and I fear what this will bring.

Apparently, the jarl in the town saw through Sunniva’s initial ruse, and she had to tell him why we are really here. I worry that the clan will try to ambush us at some point. After all, they now know that we are relatively few, and have lots of gold. We must seem a tempting target for these vicious people.

Nevertheless, we are committed, and set off inland, after arranging for the ship to return to pick us up about a month hence.

17. Vorhexen, 2498

Some envision the realms infernal to be a lake of fire, ever-consuming the souls of the damned. After walking the wastes of Norsca, I think it is an everfrozen realm, where the wind has teeth of ice, tearing into your skin. My bones feel numb and frozen as I write this.

Our hired guide, Valmir, offered us some sort of salve to rub into the skin to protect from the cold. Wary of what kind of nefarious concoctions these barbarous people use, I turned the offer down, but several in our team chose to accept the offer. But their satisfaction at feeling the soothing the balm brought was turned to horror as Torgil asked what it was made from.

Not batting an eyelid, Valmir smiled and said “The fat of our enemies”.

These thrice-damned chaos worshippers render people into tallow to use in their “medicine”. The thought makes my mind hurt. Gods above and below, guard us from these fell influences.

19. Vorhexen, 2498

This cursed place is deceptive. The mountains, valleys and plains we cross have an eerie, desolate beauty, but I can feel corruption gnawing at my soul just walking through these lands. It is a wonder that the Norscan aren’t even more corrupted and mutated than they are, living in this foul aura. We need to get out of here as soon as we can.

20. Vorhexen, 2498

This land thrusts for blood. There is nothing here that does not want to ruin anything healthy, sane or godly. Today we were walking through a mountain pass. The winter sun was shining coolly down on a magnificent and deceptively peaceful landscape. But in a moment - pandemonium erupted.

Mere yards ahead of us, three horrid ice trolls burst out from their hiding places in the snow, storming straight for us, clearly intending to make us their next meal.

There is no style or grace to the way I fight. Get in. Do some damage. Try to avoid getting hit, is my way. Not so for elves. Talian seems to as much dance as fight. Lightning slashes leaving sprays of red troll blood are made with the grace of a cat. The lumbering troll seems dull and confused, not understanding how half his innards are soon spilling into the snow. I take advantage of the beast’s weak flailings to plunge my sword into its neck, ending it. Its companion sees an opening and charges straight for me, bowling me over in the snow. I feel its talons rake across my armor. As I look up into the fang-filled maw bearing down on me, its face suddenly explodes in a spray of blood. I manage to roll aside as it comes crashing down, light already leaving its eyes. I look over at Piet, who is busy pulling his other pistol from its sleeve, his first still smoking from the shot.

The third troll, busy trying to catch Torgil, who backpedals furiously while sinking an arrow into its shoulder, suddenly erupts in a ball of flame, so hot I can feel it yards away. I look to my left, and I see Eldur, still lying in the sleigh, with smoke billowing from his outstretched hand. His eyes look literally aflame, although that is probably my imagination running wild.

We are bruised and battered, but this land has tried to kill us, and we held our own. Maybe we can survive this quest?

24. Vorhexen, 2498

The world is pain.

Yesterday we reached a ruined and abandoned village in a snowcovered valley. The buildings showed clear signs of violence. Valmir was able to inform us that this entire village was razed by a warlord in a valley west of here, the people either slaughtered or taken as slaves. Scouting revealed that the entire village is abandoned. The prospect of spending the cold night inside, even if it was in a partly ruined building, instead of in a hastily dug snow cave, lifted our team’s spirits and we settled in for a more comfortable night than in more than a week.

The comfort was soon to be broken, however, as during the night watch, Talian spotted three hunched figures heading straight for us. We were hastily roused, in time to see the monstrosities seeking our blood. Manlike creatures twisted into horrible wolf-like beasts, all fangs and teeth and bloodred eyes. They were upon us in seconds.

I do not remember much of the fight, but at one point one of the beasts got inside my guard, and its huge paw cracked into the side of my face with the force of an ogre’s fist. Everything went black.

When I came to, my jaw was a mess of bruises and blood. With Eldurs help I managed to make a makeshift tourniquet holding it in place. One of my molars is gone, and I am barely able to eat hot broth without swooning from the pain. This is going to take forever to heal. I guess long speeches will not be in my repertoire the coming weeks.

Thankfully, the team, with the help of our hired dog-wolves, were able to put the monsters down. Skinchangers, they are called, and once were men of a sort, changed into horrible bloodthirsty beasts. Well, I guess for the men of Norsca, the transition isn’t really that far.

25. Vorhexen, 2498

In this infernal realm there are no good choices, and still, choices we must make. Leaving the village behind, our path lead us through one of three forks. We could either go over a ridge and traverse the neighbouring valley, which is in the territory of the blood- and slaveseeking warlord, or over a seemingly impassable mountain which looks to be shrouded in an eternal blizzard, or through a low valley where hot vents feed a warm fetid swamp said to house all manner of witchery.

Cold as we already are, braving the mountain seems much too foolhardy given our lack of climbing skills, and the need to keep the sleigh with us. Both Sunniva and Eldur are adamant that skirting into the territory of a powerful Norscan warlord is dangerous in the extreme. If we are discovered, the full force of an entire wartribe could be brought against us, and on their own turf at that. As uninviting as it seems, the mistcovered swamps seem the least problematic. I am sure this cursed land will show us how wrong we were, and laugh in our faces soon enough.

26. Vorhexen, 2498

I don’t think this was the right choice. The stench in this place is like a river of sewage. The damp gets everywhere, and there are bugs enough to please Nurgle himself. As if that was not enough, Eldur tells us that the Winds are like a hurricane here. Or like a typhoon, centered on the middle of the swamp, with breaths of Dhar running through it. We try to keep to the outskirts of the bog, but already I can feel its effect. My innards are turning liquid, and sweat is rolling off me in streams. I try to put on my brave face, but it is kind of hard when you are forced to squat at regular intervals. At least the squelching sounds of the swamp mask the humiliation a bit.

That chaos-spawn Valmir offered more of his cursed tinctures to help against the swamp’s effect. Again it is made from unspeakable acts. I think he is lost beyond saving. The blitheness with which he speaks of things that should horrify, and the way he casually carries symbols of chaos makes my skin crawl. In addition I do not trust him for a moment not to betray us to his tribe if given half a chance. I think we will have to kill him before we leave these lands. I’ve voiced my concerns to Sunniva in a whispered nighttime conversation. I think she agrees. It gives me no joy to think of this, but I fear there will be no other way.

27. Vorhexen, 2498

We were very right to try to steer clear of the center of the swamps. The going is hard, and we’re having to carry or push the sleigh most of the time. Needless to say, we are making some commotion, and it was just a question of time before we attracted attention from the denizens of the bog.

Sometime in what passes for afternoon in this gloomy place, a huge shape moved swiftly through the waters towards us. As it came near, a massive serpent reared up, ready for what it though would be an easy meal. Not today, spawn of darkness! We meet the beast with a massive barrage of bullets, arrows and slingshot, and it falls back into the water a bloody mess, floating slowly away with the tepid stream.

However, all the noise attracted the attention of other, more nefarious creatures. An hour after the short battle with the great snake, two lumbering shapes approach us out of the mist. Large and misshapen, they walk on two legs, but there the resemblance to people stop. They have horrific beaks instead of mouths, large tails tipped with club-like appendages, and a single, unblinking eye in their forehead. I realize that we are face to face with the grim chaos-spawn called Fimir.

Sunniva accosts them, asking what they want, and saying that we are just passing through the swamp. With what I can only describe as a malevolent grin, one of them says in barely legible Norsca that they are there to escort one of us to their Matriarch, whom it refers to as Malice. His clawed finger points to Eldur.

I have read of these foul creatures. Their matriarchs are masters of witchery, rivals of the most potent wizards. I have no doubt that they want Eldur to steal his power, or even worse, corrupt him and make him their slave. While the beasts are distracted with their discussion with Sunniva, I quickly draw my pistol and fire at the nearest, wounding it severely.

They roar in anger and bloodlust and charge at us, huge axes at the ready. A short, but furious melee ensues, but we are able to crush them, with relatively few injuries to ourselves.

I have little doubt that there are more of them, and we need to get away from this swamp and its foul mistress as soon as we can.