Reflections at Whithorn

Exploring the undercommons on the behest of the Academicians, we located and breached the home of an ancient magician. A frightening place, long neglected by time, this dark corner of the world held secrets and danger. Immediately a darkness most foul fell upon the whole place and Elvar took a crackling lightning bolt to the dome. We proceeded onward to methodically explore this ancient home. The lost spirits of the servants still haunted the place, traps dogged our every steps and a mimic nearly ended us when we attempted to open the wrong chest., yet we emerged weary and victorious.
 
The encounter drained our resources and left us hurt and concerned for our wellbeing but when we attempted to rest within the treasure chamber, we heard noises that indicated that we were not alone. However, it turned out to be but some opportunistic and scavenging smallfolk, so after chasing them off and recovering the gems they attempted to steal, we tried to rest again.
 
Each watch was haunted by ghostly whispers and auditory hallucinations. We woke tired and somewhat unsettled, but more determined than ever to carry on, hoping to find the remaining gems to unlock the inner sanctum, as well as perhaps silencing the source of the strange haunting noises.
 
We encountered and defeated a shadowy form, saved once again by Gugs' amazing marksmanship with those diabolical little party favors he calls "bombs" and Elvar's brave resolve in standing toe-to-toe with the eldritch beast. In defeat, the creature proved to have been the source of the ungodly whispers, and we moved on, our stores of holy water and such depleted but our cameraderie and bravery lighting the way.
 
Recovering the last stone from the kitchen, we hurried our way (after a thorough yet expeditious check for hidden secrets) to the door of the inner sanctum. We might have been better off second guessing our obdurate bravery (or as Tawn sometimes thinks of it: foolhardiness) and leaving that accursed place, never to return. Instead, we burst through the door and encountered one of the most horrific creatures we had yet to face as a group.
 
A skeletal caster of unholy magic made mewling frightened kittens of our front lines within moments of opening the door. His presence was an offence to the gods we worship. An undead priest, perhaps, dedicated to the god Nethys (as we later learned) yet embodying only pure evil, not the practical, good side of that major power of magic.
 
Learning that it could be wounded, Tawn yelled to his compatriots: "It might not bleed and it might not be alive, but it feels like you can stick stuff in it"
 
Playing a futile game of cat and mouse with this foul servant of Nethys, who used the very shadows as a cloak for his evil presence, we finally cornered it and through a helacious group effort, put it down to what we hope is its final rest. We gathered what we could carry of value and returned to report what we had found. In the library where we fought it, we discovered an amazing and world-altering secret. The world as it is in our day, was not always so and a cataclysmic event in the not-too-distant past had shaped the very lands where we dwelt and forever altered what had seemed to be a bucolic and peaceful world. An ancient civilization once lived in these parts and perhaps the dreams that have plagued us have something to do with both this apocalyptic event and the ruins we now know must be hidden in the mosslocks.
 
Tawn's curiosity burns. He wants the party to take their horse and cart back to New Hallow to stage the next expedition asap, but he also recognizes that embarking on this journey ill-prepared might be the same as threading a noose around our very own necks.
 
The Academy was gracious and generous in sharing its knowledge and identifying our magic items, and Tawn recovered a ring which he dearly loves, seemingly attuned to his very fey nature. He has learned a few new Eldritch tricks and is eager to deploy them in the name of Cayden.
 
His caution with Neina, training her ceaselessly and trying to keep her in a mode of self-preservation and caution has paid off and she is now a formidable companion in her own right. He has armored her, and the group stands ready to depart the halls of Whithorn for adventure, perhaps more prepared than ever.
 
The sun will rise upon a fellowship with many grave choices to make. Hopefully they won't put this fellowship into an early grave.