Entry Twelve

I resume my explorations west today, having spent some time among the dwarves. Dallikey has elected to accompany me once more, but only so far this time; for I intend to explore the great Forest of the West, a place both respected and feared by the dwarves. Some of their beliefs are quite strange to hear told, of spirits that will hunt you down should you disturb them, yet leave you be if you respect their territory. Though I suppose it is no stranger than some of our tribal beliefs, when one thinks about it. Anyway, Dallikey has promised to lead me halfway on horseback, before returning to his village. Unfortunately, both horses will be going with him, as it seems something about the Forest spooks the beasts. I, on the other hand, have no such concerns. I am confident in my skills with both words and weapons that I could easily extricate myself from any given situation. However, I expect no trouble. The so-called spirits are more likely to avoid an outsider than confront one, I feel. I eagerly await my opportunity to discover the wonders that surely lie ahead; but now the fire burns low, and I must rest for the night. A long, hard journey begins tomorrow.

Entry Thirteen

Tonight I make camp in sight of the Forest. I am alone, friend Dallikey having returned to his village of Pineham this afternoon. Bereft of my horse, I am left with my hunting knife, compass, parchment for map making, this journal, a small waterskin at my belt, and what trail rations I could carry in my pack. With luck, I should be able to find enough dry wood to build fires; I understand rains are uncommon here at this time of year. There also ought to be edible fruits or leaves along the way - hopefully it will not take me too long to identify them.

The moon of Eskali is absent tonight, but Teklir hangs low in the sky, seeming to glow a bloody red colour instead of his usual bluish-white – what the dwarves call a ‘Devil’s Moon’. The Forest of the West looms on the horizon - a dark, foreboding mass against the moonlit sky. I confess feeling a small amount of trepidation as I gaze towards it. It may be an illusion of the night, but the trees appear to be far taller, and denser, than those of any other forest I have seen before. Regardless, I shall venture onwards in the morning, to discover what truly dwells within the great Forest.

Entry Fourteen

My journey so far has been uneventful. The Forest is quiet, so quiet as to make me think I am the only living thing for miles. The trees are indeed taller than any I have seen before, leaving the ground in a state of perpetual twilight. I have gathered a handful of branches to use as torches, and tucked them into an inside pocket. It being a warm night, I have chosen to forgo a campfire tonight. There seem to be no beasts to keep away, so a cold camp will suffice. I did discover a kind of yellow berry, which I think will be edible. I intend to try some in a moment; it is always best to try unfamiliar foods while you still have some trail rations left. Tomorrow I will begin searching for a pond or stream, to refill my waterskin.

Entry Fifteen

I will not be trying the berries again. While edible, and quite delicious, they are also powerful hallucinogens. I may, however, take a few home if I get the chance. Some will pay good money for mind-altering concoctions. Judging by the stubble upon my chin, I have lost approximately two days wandering in a stupor. I do seem to have stumbled across a river though, and have made tonight’s camp upon its’ bank. I am pleased to note that the rare aplia grows wild here, and in many more colours than the pale turquoise we are used to. There are still no animals to report; I hear neither the cry of birds nor the scurrying of rodents, even the river appears devoid of fish. I cannot help but feel that there may be some sense in the dwarven belief that this Forest is not friendly to mortal life. Still, at least I do not need to worry about being attacked by predators while I sleep. I have found some more familiar plants, including several patches of skrati, which I have plucked and boiled into a soup for tonight. It is bland, but a change from the cold, dry bread in my pack. I hope to find some game soon; though I have lived on plants alone before, one does miss the taste of meat after a while.

Entry Sixteen

Yesterday passed without great event. I chose to follow the river upstream, heading north-west, thinking that if any creatures do dwell here they must surely come to drink. This very morning, I spotted the first life since my arrival here - a small, flightless bird with dull brown plumage. It hopped through the undergrowth so quietly I would surely have missed it, had I not been scouring the ground for more skrati leaves. I watched it approach the river, cautiously drink, and then I followed it back to its’ nest. It appears to make its’ home between the roots of trees, feeding on insects it finds on the ground. Hungry as I was for something besides skrati soup, I could not bring myself to harm the poor, defenceless bird. It had surely seen or heard me following it, but had made no attempt to hide from me; rather, it led me straight to its’ nest and three young chicks. As I crouched upon the ground, watching the birds, I became aware of the minutest sounds around me; looking carefully at my surroundings I began to notice more creatures, tiny and practically invisible against the backdrop of the trees. As I stared at the wonders (which must have been there all along, had I only paused and looked hard enough), a miniscule creature the size of my smallest fingernail jumped onto my knee. It seemed to be some kind of amphibian, which croaked faintly as it surveyed the forest floor from its’ new, lofty perch. Although this Forest seems to be full of tiny creatures, they are surprisingly quiet. I wonder why that might be?

Entry Seventeen

I believe I may have caught my first glimpse of the rumoured spirits of the Forest, or Diyrae as the dwarves call them. As I bathed in the river before breaking camp this morning, I felt a sudden chill run down my back. Turning, I saw movement among the trees; close enough that I could discern a roughly human form but too distant to see much detail. It appeared unusually tall and thin, but vanished before I had a chance to cover myself and approach. On first impressions, it seems I assumed correctly in thinking they would be unwilling to confront an outsider. I shall try to appear entirely non-threatening; perhaps it will encourage contact. Hopefully they will understand that I seek only knowledge, and intend no insult or intrusion. Most races do, and have at least tolerated my presence.

(three pages torn from C’s journal)

Entry Twenty-One

The girl visited my dreams again last night. ‘Last hope,’ she said. I no longer believe she is the child goddess the priests of Astator speak of. Perhaps she is a manifestation of the spirits, or one they took before. Or maybe she is merely a dream; I cannot say.

‘Turn back now. Your final chance. They will show no kindness.’

Her voice, though she speaks only doom or riddle, is the only one I hope to hear anymore. The trees themselves whisper in the dark; I swear I have heard my long dead parents crying out of the forest.

‘Don’t look...’

What should I not look at, girl?

‘The Tall One comes...’

(the next page is covered in indecipherable scribblings)

Entry Twenty-three

I do not know what came over me. Perhaps a clump of yellowberries fell into my skrati soup; it appears I have been dreaming of a little girl with dark hair. Would whoever reads this be kind enough to ignore my nonsensical ramblings? I do hope so. Trees whispering, indeed. Utter tosh.

Anyway, I appear to have made my way to a clearing deep in the Forest. The flightless birds, which I have decided to call cimtars, appear in great number here. I was fortunate enough to come across one without chicks to feed - by the way it moved, I guessed it was an elderly creature - and added it to my soup. A pleasant change; similar to the taste of the ibikona bred in the Farm Valley, but slightly more gamey. I intend to make camp in this clearing tonight before moving on. Tomorrow I shall attempt to relocate the river; I seem to have wandered away from it over the past few days. Thankfully I retained the good sense to fill my waterskin before leaving its’ banks.

I awoke this morning with a family of cimtars nesting in the crook of my arm. Unwilling to disturb them, I remained as still as I could, watching them. Three young chicks and two adults - I assume the parents - which for all the world seemed to be having an almost silent conversation. As I watched, the smaller of the two adults (I would hazard a guess it was the female) tilted its’ head, apparently listening for something. Without warning, a flurry of activity began around the clearing; cimtars gathering their chicks and hopping away, other minute animals scurrying into the trees as fast as they could. The family nesting by me followed the rest, but not before the larger adult had hopped right up to my face and looked straight into my eyes. With hindsight, I would say it was trying to get me to run with it.

The clearing deserted except for myself, I stood and looked around, expecting some fearsome beast to emerge from the trees. I saw nothing at first, but experienced the same chill I had felt last week while bathing. As I stared intently into the shadows between the trees, I felt something stroking my hair - I span around, my hand flying to the hunting knife on my belt. I barely stopped myself drawing it. Behind me stood a hunched, emaciated creature, essentially humanoid but with abnormally long arms and legs; I imagine if it were to stand up straight it would be about seven feet tall. It was entirely hairless, with large, hollow eyes that dwarfed the rest of its’ features. The creature appeared to be scrutinising me as closely as I was it; there seemed to be an aura of pure curiosity surrounding it. I know not how long we remained there, examining one another, but I am certain the creature discovered more than I did. I cannot explain it - a creeping feeling at the back of my mind, much like the feeling one has when a mind-reading spell is being cast, except far stronger. It is, of course, possible that the creature was using magic, but I believe other explanations should be sought.

I am deeply ashamed of what happened next, but I shall reveal all according to the Explorers’ Oath. As the creature watched me, holding my gaze, I felt an increasing unease building in my chest. I attempted to step back, away from it; its’ arm shot out and caught me by the shoulder. Its’ fingers were sharp as razors, slicing through my leather jerkin and into my flesh. Panicking, I drew my knife and slashed wildly, hoping only to scare it off; however, I did injure it. The creature leapt back, clutching its’ forearm. It stared at me a few seconds longer, then simply vanished into thin air. I did note (it is strange what one notices at times) that the creature did not appear to bleed as we do; rather, a thin, clear liquid ran from its’ wound.

After the creature vanished, I sank to my knees to tend my own wound. The blood ran fast - I think there is something on the creature’s hands that slows healing, as it still bleeds now - I emptied my waterskin rinsing it, and bound my shoulder with strips torn from my shirt. The wound resembles claw marks, except much longer than those of any known beast.

I spent the rest of the day finding my way back to the river, eventually locating it at sundown. The Forest seems darker now, more malignant than before. The trees press in on all sides, and I am beginning to hear whispering from the shadows. Perhaps I was not so delusional before; I can only hope the spirits will be merciful.

I am hiding in a hollow tree as I write this. My pack is lost, I know not where; my knife taken from me by the spirits. Something is following me, hiding just out of sight, but I can feel it watching me as I run. I am beginning to lose track of days, but I shall try to make note of what has been happening since my last entry, while I seem to have a moment’s peace; I cannot promise a full account, as there are large gaps in my own memory.

The morning after my encounter with the strange being in the clearing, I awoke paralysed. Only my eyes could move - I looked frantically around, wondering what had happened. A result of my wound, perhaps? No. As I lay immobile upon the Forest floor, a face appeared above me - pale, pinched and indistinct, as though the artist had smeared his paints while drawing it. Ice cold fear I cannot explain ran through me as it stared down at me, and I heard the whispering again. I assume there was another being out of my range of vision, as the one I could see kept turning towards something. I cannot remember much of the whispers - only that they mentioned ‘the Tall One’ several times. Abruptly, the whispers ceased, and a hand came down over my face, closing my eyes. I must have lost consciousness at that point - when I opened my eyes again I had been moved to a small clearing away from the river, my knife had been taken and my pack searched. My compass and the maps I had begun were gone.

I do not know how long I was unconscious; it was late afternoon when I awoke, but I cannot be sure it was the same day. I have discovered three pages missing from this journal, the ones I wrote while dreaming about the girl. Perhaps I should have heeded her warnings while I had the chance. I tried to find the river once more - it was the only water source I knew of at the time - but could not locate it. I did, however, find a single cimtar and followed it to a small pond. After drinking, I looked around the surrounding area for food. Finding naught but yellowberries, I finished the last of the rations from my pack. I had no desire to become intoxicated with no idea where I was.

Once I had eaten, I washed and rebound my wound. It had at last begun to scab over, but an ugly greenish-yellow colour tinged the flesh around it. Most likely bruising, though I cannot recall what from. I stood, thinking to locate the sun and use it to navigate eastwards - my compass being missing, I had no other way of doing so. Looking around, I noticed there was something moving in the trees on the other side of the pond; my curiosity be eternally damned, I simply had to go and investigate. I circled the pool, not taking my eyes from the spot where I had seen movement. On reaching the place, I found only a dark smear on a tree, and a scrap of parchment bearing a strange symbol. It appeared to be a piece of my map parchment; certainly the ink was mine. I picked it up and tucked it into my inside pocket, along with my journal. I took one last glance around to see if anything materialised; seeing nothing, I made my way back to the pond.

Once I emerged from the trees I saw something. Standing only a few feet away from my pack, apparently dressed entirely in black, and almost as tall as the surrounding trees - and the trees I speak of are the height of three or more men, mark you. Its’ face was odd, alien-looking; the eyes seemed too widely spaced, the lips too small and thin. I feel I must clarify a point here; this being was not a giant - I have spent time among the ice giants of the frozen south, they are of normal proportion but greater size all round - it was simply tall, as though stretched lengthways. It appeared to be staring into the distance, and at that point I was utterly convinced that such a being would not notice me unless I attracted its’ attention, much as the scurryings of ants go largely unnoticed by men. I thought to creep around the pond, retrieve my pack, and leave. Unsettling as I found the prospect, I took a few cautious steps around the edge of the water, towards it. Eyes upon my pack, I did not see it move, but it must have, as I suddenly became aware of a chilling presence behind me.

I turned; it was standing directly behind me, head tilted down. I barely reached its’ knees - terror overtook me, and I attempted to flee, but lost all control of my legs after a few steps. I fell sideways into the mud, barely able to breathe as fear constricted my airways almost to the point of suffocation; though I think I was able to cry out for my mother as the entity turned me over. No words can fully convey what happened next, but I will try to explain, if only in the hope that this account will serve as a warning to any who wish to follow my path. It took control of my body, forcing me to stand; it pushed its’ way into my mind, I felt my thoughts being examined, my memories ransacked. It felt as though my mind was being turned inside out - I became confused and my nose began to bleed. I am uncertain of what happened afterwards; I believe the entity held me there a while longer, but I cannot recall what it did, if anything.

My next clear memory is of awaking, seemingly alone, in a dark clearing. The pond and my pack were gone, so I must have been moved again. Though I could not see anything, I could hear voices coming from high in the trees. Not wishing to encounter the tall entity again, I ran aimlessly into the dark. I have been running since then, for the past four days, recalling little, seeing nothing and hearing constant whispers. I pray I can get out of here before I lose my mind, or my life.

The girl has reappeared. While I am still being pursued, her presence is calming. She has told me much over the last few days, including part of her own story, how she came to be here. I shall write it down again, having lost the pages I wrote before.

The girl was part of the Entamar tribe, chosen several years ago by their priests as a sacrifice to the dark goddess they call The Mistress. As was apparently usual for the ritual, her body was left inviolate and her soul taken by the goddess. She tells me that the enigmatic Mistress seemed to have no use for her, so sent her back to the mortal realm. However, her body had been cremated (the Entamar’s funeral ritual - rather than bury their dead, they burn the body to ashes) by then, leaving her nothing to return to. She stayed in her village a while, trying to communicate with her family to no avail, until she felt something calling to her from far away.

Losing hope of ever speaking with her family again, she followed the call west, deep into the Forest, where she met the entity I encountered by the pond - the one the whispers speak of most often, the one she tried to warn me of - the Tall One. She says I have not seen its’ most frightening form yet; from her description I hope I never do. It first attempted to gain her trust and affection by imitating her loved ones; when that did not work it tried to force her into doing its’ bidding. She escaped its’ clutches (possibly it allowed her to do so) and has been wandering the Forest ever since - her soul is trapped here, it seems.

She has told me where to find food; there is a kind of blue fruit that grows on certain trees, which retains a lot of water, so at least I shall not perish from hunger or thirst. She thinks there is still a way out for me, and has promised to try and help me escape. I hope she is right; I know an explorer should never admit this, but I desperately want to go home. The Forest alone is unnerving, even without the spirits and other strange beings.

The girl thinks there is a connection between Entamar’s Mistress and the Tall One - this may be worth looking into, though it would take a very brave soul to uncover the truth. I have asked her about the creature that gave me my wound, and she believes it may be a sort of pet; much like we would keep a hound, I suppose. The symbol I found moments before my encounter with the Tall One mystifies her, though. While she has discovered a fair amount about this place, I must remember that she is only a child; a frightened and confused child, at that.

On the subject of what the girl has discovered, I should take a moment to make note of what she has told me about the spirits themselves. The Diyrae are not vicious by nature; while they have always been protective of the Forest, they once preferred to simply befuddle intruders and usher them away. The arrival of the Tall One changed them into something far darker - twisted their minds, much as it does with its’ other victims, the girl says. In the years she has been here, she has observed it luring people into the Forest, where they usually seem to vanish without trace. Occasionally, however, (and I quote the girl directly here) ‘it leaves quite a mess behind’. She is still fearful of being recaptured by it, so cannot give me details of how it kills; not that I would want to know, from what she has told me of the remains of one young boy she watched.

He was apparently a similar age to her; came wandering into the trees one day, looking vacant and clutching a ragged toy. She went after him, trying to warn him as she did me, but he could not or would not hear her and walked onwards, straight into a small clearing where the Tall One waited. It first appeared much as it did when I saw it, she says, but when the boy tried to run it began to change. Its’ fingers extended, stretching to inhuman lengths; sinuous appendages grew from its’ back to envelop the petrified boy, plucking him from the ground. The girl ran away at that point, not wishing to watch the boy die. His cries followed her through the trees, though. Sometime later she returned to the clearing - she has not explained why - and found what remained of the boy. He had quite literally been torn apart; the clearing covered in blood, innards strewn across the ground, an arm lying at the base of a tree, hand still gripping the boy’s toy. His head and torso had been impaled on a high branch of the tree, his eyes ripped from their sockets and his mouth stretched in a last, silent scream.

Under other circumstances, I would be most intrigued by all this; what is this being, and why does it act this way? How can it frighten the girl so, when she is a soul without form, and thus unable to be harmed by any known means? But as it stands, I only wish to escape before it turns its’ murderous attentions towards me - I shall take the girl with me, if there is any way to do so. Perhaps the knowledge priests of Bewein will be able to help her.

(this entry was partially obscured by dark smudges and stains)

It killed her, it killed her - gods, it killed her! She was leading me east, back to the edge of the Forest, when it appeared in our path. I see why she was terrified of it - it had taken the form it used to kill the boy, which is far more frightening to see than to hear described. It reached towards us, its’ arm stretching with a horrible cracking sound, like breaking bones. We ran, the girl leading me through the trees. She, being unbound by physical forces, could move faster than I, and got a short way ahead. I paused for breath, clutching a tree to keep myself upright, and called to her to wait. She screamed from ahead - I ran on, summoning energy from somewhere.

When I reached the clearing she had screamed from, I fell to the ground - exhausted and useless. It held her, high in the air, one absurdly stretched hand running through her hair. She wept, terrified, pleading with it to let her go. ‘Don’t kill me’ she repeated, over and over, as it wrapped her in those awful limbs which grow from its’ back. -------- shut my eyes, I couldn’t watch, couldn’t move -------- silent, I dared to peek. The girl was gone, nowhere to be seen ----- stood over me, staring down, tearing into my mind and soul. Frozen, barely breathing, my vision blurred and I heard terrible things - far worse than the whispers from the trees. My shoulder wound reopened itself, blood began to run from my nose, ears and eyes. I assume I lost consciousness - at least I recall nothing until waking several hours later, alone.

Now I run, always east -------------- pounding drums in my ears, whispers echoing through my mind ----------------- bleeding, my head hurts ----------------- leave me alone --------------- want to go home, let me go ----------------- (the bottom of the page has been torn off)

(the rest of the journal is blank, except for the page directly after the final entry, where C has drawn a large spiral with a vertical cross through it - possibly the symbol from the scrap of parchment he found?)

As the legend has it, backed up by recently discovered dwarven accounts, C returned from the Forest in the third week of the month of Yari, arriving back in Pineham on Fourth day. ‘Wild eyed, mumblin’ to himself and grippin’ that journal of his so tight I thought his fingers would break’, as Dallikey put it in his own memoirs some years later.

It is thought that whatever C encountered in the Forest affected his mind somehow; possibly the entity he describes in his journal, or maybe a lasting effect of the yellowberries. They can have rather odd effects if not prepared correctly, according to dwarven cookbooks. In either case, C spent the rest of his life alone, constantly looking out of his window and writing increasingly deranged notes. We can only guess at what he was thinking, but those few who have looked into the matter believe he thought the entity from the forest was still after him. Most of his notes tend to say things like ‘Always watching me’ or ‘Will steal your soul’, often accompanied by the cross and spiral symbol.

What finally became of C is unknown, but as the story goes, he wandered westwards out of Pokole in the dead of night. No remains were ever found, and all that he left behind was a mountain of paranoid notes. As for the mysterious girl in the journal, it would seem she was one of many tragic victims of the ‘Mistress cult’ of Entamar; a rather unpleasant sect of the tribe even by their standards at the time, which had a habit of sacrificing young children to their dark goddess.