| Subject: A Letter Unsent |
Author:
Feyr Silversurge
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Date Posted: 01:05:44 11/27/02 Wed
Greetings, mother
I pen this letter knowing quite well you will likely never see it. However, there still exists a vague luster of hope that sometime, in some way, these words may be sent to you. Afterall, if St. Calumus abandoned hope once he gazed upon the dragon and succumbed to the knowing certainty of that encounter, I doubt we would be honoring his name today.
Recent events have spiraled out of control, falling from a height of stability into the nebulous darkness of uncertainty and madness. Am I mad? I surely hope so. Would that this all a dream, fever-wrought delusion, or even phantasm brought about by a head-injury. I would be much the happier. Granted, I now know why my letters have garnered no reply.
Our search brought one of the gypsies, the Vistani, to our city, where we were still awaiting attack by forces unknown. He was a likeable sort, though quiet and dark. Most importantly, he was alive and willing to help. It seems even the living are giving into a vague malaise over time.
We were charged by the acting constable to find a fellow by the name of Mullek. He was rumored to have keen insights in the way of the dead-who-do-not-rest. He lived away from the city, to the north, off trails not traveled much.
Our trek was moderately uneventful, though tinged with the dread feelings that something was afoot, either about us in the lurking woods or back at the city.
As fate would command, he should live perilously close to an old cemetery, which was not immune from the dead rising for vengence. They had set his house to blazes and we attempted to lead him to safety. However, we followed the path through the cemetery which ended up being a tragic mistake.
The dead were legion therein, as one could guess, and whether they had not until then just barely dug to the surface, or laid in wait as an ambush, I can not say. The fighting started quickly and, given the darkness, was a bit chaotic. One of our number fell victim to their spells and I stood over him until he could recover.
After a fray, we gathered, but Mullek had perished in the battle. Perhaps sensing their old foe was gone, the dead seemed to regroup after that last wave. We did not hold the field for their return.
Mullek seemed quite mad once we had found him and uttered quite a bit which, at the time, made little sense. He seemed to dislike the Vistani and blamed them for all the deeds recently, saying they summoned or released some mist. At heart, I secretly feared it was the lady-who-was-not-a-lady imprisoned beyond the door.
Back at the city, there was little debating our only real course of action: to visit the Vistani camp. He came seeking lost kinsmen and we found one on our way to their camp, he was neither living or dead. Their reception was a little gaurded, but with Luscovi and news of their kin, we were lead to their leader.
She was noble-looking enough and seemed to command quite a deal of respect from her people - even when they were not at the camp, which is usually a good sign. What she said, however, made me question my own sanity.
She said her people had come from a place where this fog or mist originaated. That it was drawn to evil and drew evil to it. When they had escaped to Faalor, the Vistani thought they were free of this mist.
A great evil had happened which attracted the Mist's attentions, likely that which was released from the caves after the quake. The Mist then began a siege of sorts, blocking off the area about that evil. Those that try to leave wind up in a fog, which gets thicker and more dangerous. Ultimately, those slain by it tend to become vengeful dead.
Stopping the evil which first attracted the Mist may cause it to abate. It may not. But it sounds like the best chance we have. If we have a chance. Or, I could just be insane. There is no mist. There are no gypsies.
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