Lord of the Rotted Tower

ᐧ 14th of Flamerule, 1495 DR
 
Each day has been more harrowing than the last, and I have yet to discover anything that may inform me of my past.
 
We took to the trail with Dorgo, sights set on Mussum. The letter Azmodeus found made mention of a site called Timindar, a meeting place for these bandits. It seems as if they intend to bring this accursed vessel there – or at least its contents. What is the significance of this eye?
 
Along our travels, I watched as Aela set out into the Satyrwood. She seemed drawn, lured, towards what appeared to be fireflies. I meant to stop her, but then I heard the laughter. So familiar, but distant? Like an echo of something just beyond memory. I had to find it, and I set out as well. It was Boddington’s call that returned me to my senses, and we would drag Aela back to hers.
 
They were most assuredly not fireflies, but…perhaps once pixies? Not quite living but no more dead than myself. I could feel them sapping our strength, feeding from our essence. No matter, as they were dealt with.
 
As we drew closer, we revealed the truth to Dorgo – there were more bandits nearby, and we would need to…attend to them…if our passage was to be safe. He did protest, but we were convincing. He and Boddington stayed with the wagon, off road and out of sight. The rest of us crept through the woods, and found ruins within them. This was Timindar, or what was left of it. It seems as if much time has passed since any meaningful life flourished here.
 
Surprisingly, the woodsman was the first to act. Azmodeus ensnared one of these bandits as they were looking over their goods. I applaud his zeal, but his follow through was lacking. The bandit was surely about to alert others and drew his knife, so I took matters into my own hands and secured him. We left him bound, and proceeded strategically.
 
We lured another, and as he was distracted, I put an end to him. His weapon was certainly more capable than the bow I acquired the other day, so I claimed it by right of might.
 
Again, Asmodeus rushed in. He continues to surprise me. He bound more bandits with some sort of magical vegetation. This time, though, he fared worse and they broke free. The first to raise their hand against him fell to my new contraption… a mighty bolt finding purchase in the ruffian’s chest. Within moments, the others converged on Azmodeus and any element of surprise we had was lost. As was Aela. She had been with the others until she wasn’t, and appeared from one of the ruins – looking battered – once the fight ended. I mean to ask her the nature of this later.
 
Landeer exhibited great prowess in battle, moving in ways I have not witnessed him before. Another curiosity. As I sundered another soul from a bandit who seemed to be in charge, I was struck with an arrow much like my earlier target. I intended to make another offering, but the coward escaped. Returning to the fray, Landeer and Azmodeus were clearly outmatched. One remained, and we stood toe to toe. He struck well, but I struck better.
 
Then…I heard Her call once more. I do not know what came over me, but I cared for nothing more than the blood of the bound bandit. I remember flashes, pained faces of others I do not recognize. Agony. Fear. Who were they?
 
As the thoughts cleared, I found myself standing over the bandit Azmodeus had earlier surprised…my sword in his gut. Why did I feel as if a burden was lifted? Why did I feel…proud? And with that pride, another feather appeared, and I felt…emboldened.
 
I returned to the center of the ruins, Landeer clinging to life. I called for Aela, remembering the strange tonic she kept. Boddington suggested it may possess restorative properties, and this was surely the time to test his theory. As she attended to the priest, I turned my focus to Azmodeus.
 
There was no question in my mind, he was no longer with us. Even now, I’m…unsure…what moved me to beseech Her, but if She could restore me? So I asked. And She answered.
 
With the feather, now white, tied into his hair…Azmodeus gasped and returned to us. That feeling I had after claiming the bound bandit’s life was gone, and I felt weaker. Surely a price paid for Her “mercy.”
 
As the others settled, I retrieved Boddington and Dorg, leading them to the ruins where we would make camp. I offered them no alternative.
 
Today’s events left me with a great deal to think upon. One of the chests these fools had in their possession bore the visage of a one eyed skull. I can describe no other feeling than dread when I saw it…”Lord of the Rotted Tower” echoing in my mind.
 
Why does She seem to reward me for these dishonorable kills? A bound man, beaten and defenseless. There is no glory in that conquest. Is it merely death she craves?
 
The laughter in the Satyrwood. Why did it affect me so? And why was it so familiar? Why can I hear it still, as I hold these poppets?
 
For now, I rest and keep watch. I have questions for the others come morning – where did Aela go? What came over the gentle priest? What did the woodsman see when he was no longer with us?
 
Tomorrow, questions. And Mussum.