Leviathan's Journal

Our quest to find the mayor and extend our greetings took an unexpected turn, plunging us into the depths of an ominous haunted house. Despite the echoing voices within, our knocks went unanswered. With an unlocked door beckoning us, we ventured into a residence ensnared in the grip of time, its mysteries concealed beneath layers of suffocating dust.
Venturing to the second floor, my embarrassing encounter with an enchanted broom left my cheeks burning in more ways than one. Bested by a fucking broom! Worse yet, my folly was witnessed by those two insufferable, sniggering pipsqueaks. Suppressing the urge to wield the broom against their heads, I gritted my teeth to avoid drawing attention to myself.
A silver lining emerged as the twins uncovered a sealed letter in an unknown language, an iron key, and hidden room within the library. The room revealed a treasure trove of dark arts, necromancy tomes and the deeds to the house within a booby-trapped chest, previously triggered by the now skeletal warning.

A surreal shriek drew us upstairs, where Perfurar's recounted an encounter with a spectral wet nurse. In the attic, he discovered the nurse's remains and the skeletons of children in a secret room sealed off from the world, leaving me uncertain if they were imprisoned or sealed after death. Clyde, the enigmatic bony/flesh entity, has vanished within the house's shadows.
Descending further into the depths, mysterious chanting guided our exploration. We stumbled upon a seemingly innocent well in a stone-carved room. Perfurar stumbled upon a wallet made of human skin in a locked chests within the abandoned, underground sleeping quarters. The air is thick with necromancy, invoking unsettling memories of my past in Dwarven catacombs in which I was enslaved.
Navigating the crypts, coffins bore names of the original homeowners but were now vacant, inhabited only by a swarm of centipedes. I can still feel the lingering stinging bites upon my legs. Thankfully, the others swiftly intervened, even… the necromancer. There's an undeniable nuance to her character, setting her apart from the run-of-the-mill necromancers I've encountered. Yet, the echoes of her rumoured quest for immortality through Litchdom, mirroring my Masters Ghirahim's own ascent as a Mummy Lord, inject a dose of scepticism. Is Zoey a potential ally or an adverse in a darker scheme, cleverly concealed behind a façade of goodwill? Only time will unfurl the truth, and until then, I remain vigilant in her presences.
Deeper into the haunted depths, we confronted a Grick and several ghouls, dispatching them effortlessly in the process. The party's strength caught my attention – a potential refuge from Ghirahim's pursuit. Perhaps I will propose my usefulness to the captain in order to secure employment, at least there is one bright side to the ghostly murders, a position may have become available for me slide into. Thoughts of the sea Elf, Morgan, still aboard the ship, linger. A fellow former slave, her own experiences and escape story dances on the periphery of my curiosity. Yet, the walls around my heart remained intact; trust is a luxury I cannot afford.
Approaching the haunting chants, fatigue sets in after our battles, and I dread what lies ahead. Memories threaten to petrify me beneath my stoic facade. I'd almost prefer facing Grinning Jack alone on the ship than descending into the unknown darkness once again. If death is to be my fate, I yearn for it beneath the expansive canopy of the open sky, not confined within the dank pits reminiscent of my past imprisonment. The afterlife looms with its own grim certainty – an eternity of servitude to my patron in the hells, an indelible reminder of the price paid for power and freedom, a haunting legacy that refuses to fade.