***
I do not claim to understand fully the workings of the Fane and the Masters of All-Consumption. Their alliance with these foul brutes surprises me. We are favored! Who are these thugs to tell us what to do? No matter. Soon we'll leave this accursed backwater and I will not be cooped up in this mill with the accursed wretches.
***
Annihilation, Hommlet! I do not like it here. The food that Chatrilon brought from the inn was good, however. Venison, cured nicely. What is that seasoning? Perhaps when we have slain all these yokels, I can discover the secrets of its preparation. Exalted will I be on that day! Praise to the Eye!
***
Just as the Doomdreamers proclaimed, the Obelisk is here, under a pool in a cave. We found that the pool was a shaft with a false bottom, sealed for many years. Once breached, the pool drained into a cave rife with the power of the Revered Master of Masters. O great day!
***
Apparently the water from the stream above was diverted into the shaft to fill the pool and hide the cave from unworthy eyes. Truly the Master inspired such a wondrous plan, although it was surely carried out after the advent of the Interregnum. My Lord of Lords, once you are free, I pledge that all shall be made right, and your tormentors shall meet their cruel, cruel fate. Blessed Destruction! Praise to the Eye!
***
I marvel at the skill of our enlightened predecessors who constructed the Obelisk to honor you , O Lord! Those must have been heady days in which to live. Under the wise guidance of Master Thaque, we shall soon have the relics of our lost heritage. Praise to the Eye!
***
Alas! Ignoble beast! What fate has befallen us? It must be a test sent to us from Beyond - we must now endure without Master Thaque, may his soul rest in the cold embrace of dissolution now and forevermore! Oh wicked, cruel fate - I seek not my end in the maw of some worm of the earth!
***
Gungash is dead. I hated him. He stole my lunch two days ago, an excellent boiled egg and some delicious spicebread, may his soul roil in torment!
***
We are trapped. Festrath cannot convince the craven gnolls to attack the dragon - not after what happened two days ago. The dragon laughs at us. A grand joke, beast, but one that you'll pay for with your very soul! Now Festrath hides with the Obelisk and the Thing from Beyond. We continue our work here, but soon we shall run out of food. Perhaps we shall live as the ghouls do. Or perhaps gnoll flesh can be flavored in some way so as to make it palatable. What was that blasted seasoning, O Unmaker?
- end of journal -
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