Kane Arkham - Justice above the Law

[Machado]

For the beginning of this entry, perhaps it makes sense to start with my own story.

I was born and raised in the shadows of the famous mad wizard's dungeon in Waterdeep. With so many adventurers passing through the city, my father, included, made sense to become one when the day came that I could wield a sword.

As a member of a religious family, proud followers of the god of justice, seeking training among paladins was also expected.

The training was rigorous, but I seemed to be ready from birth for it. Taking up the sword to defend what is just was a long-awaited hope. Everything seemed to follow a very expected course... Until the gods played their cards and chaos arrived.

Nobody knew until very late where they came from, but it didn't take long to find out what they wanted. Men, if they could still be described as such, came to the city after a supposed artifact taken from the bowels of the mountain by a group of mercenaries. With too much power and little value for human life, they were determined to get what they came for. And exterminate everyone in your path.

Our village was the first to fall to the days-long fury of fire and darkness. It was only after razing two other villages that they discovered that the artifact had already been taken to the other side of the world weeks ago. A place unknown to most of us, Kara-Tur.

When help arrived, there were no enemies left to fight. Our executioners left as quickly as they arrived. Faced with such horror and power, all we paladins fresh from training could do was try to save the few survivors. The most audacious, or naïve, who went into battle disappeared, consumed by arcane power.

Arcane power. How can you face something like this with iron and steel?

But another question bothered me even more: who would make them pay?

The church also wanted the same answers. A delegation was formed to go to Kara-Tur to obtain more information about our invaders and the object they were looking for. I was the first to volunteer. Two others followed me.

I confess that I had no interest in looking for the artifact, only revenge moved me in that direction.

The journey seemed to last centuries, and when we arrived, everything was so different that it seemed like we had crossed over into another plane.

It didn't take long for us to familiarize ourselves with the place after meeting a group of priests who spoke the same language as the gods we knew. However, no one seemed to know anything about the interests of our mission. That, or they were just hiding the information from us. To this day I can't say.

As we pursued our objectives, we sought to gather resources that would help us in the eventual confrontation.

That's when we separated. From my perspective, learning and understanding arcane magic was absolutely necessary, given the nature of our adversaries. I found a kind of arcane academy that, reluctantly, accepted me (only after a few weeks did I discover that it was a college of bards. I should have been suspicious due to the excess of chants and mantras, but my translator always refused to translate them into me, something about the language being sacred, I guess).

The language proved to be a major barrier to my studies. I didn't have time to learn it and still continue my mission. I had to settle for learning to read arcane scrolls. But not all was lost. I managed to compensate by learning local combat techniques. An old tradition and quite different from the one I knew. Something that will certainly give me an advantage over my enemies.

My companions thought it was a waste of time and continued on, looking for a clue in some temple lost in the mountains. False information that led them to an ambush on the road.
It took me some time to find those responsible. But I found them. And I helped them meet their gods. A trip paid for with steel and blood. I buried them in the forest in unmarked graves. People like that don't deserve memorials.

Time passed and only after four years in that place, I finally found what took me to there. Or something close to that.

One of the wizards had abandoned his band after finding faith in a local god. He was in a monastery living in a cloister. The man I met for the second time was very different from the previous one. Calm and serene, he told me about the misfortune that befell others. The artifact they sought was, in fact, a portal to the Red Prison, Carceri. Tragically for them, they found out too late... I can't imagine why anyone would seek something like that, but the outcome seemed appropriate.

I believe Tyr led me on that quest to discover that justice does not fail to punish evildoers with terror and fury.

However, one was still missing. That wizard's new life didn't erase his old one. He still had a lot to pay, and I was there to collect the debt.
At that time I was still very gentle with the unjust, and I almost let him live in his voluntary seclusion. But something moved my hand toward the sword and sentence was given. He offered no resistance but accepted his fate. A clean strike through the heart ended his life in this world.

I was finally able to return home after years on a mission.

Upon returning, I was finally able to take my oath. One suited to the ways of justice that Tyr revealed to me on my journey. Serve justice as an avenger, the manifestation of divine fury against the unjust, using all the resources at my disposal to strike terror into their blackened hearts and extirpate them from this world.
But the time in my homeland was short. There was another place crying out for justice and revenge. A remote, icy island called Skaljard. And so, once again I went on a mission to bring the word and the sword of justice among those who lack one or the other.

[Machado]

The trip to Skaljard was uneventful, but I've never been somewhere so cold before. I will certainly need a coat over my armor or I will freeze to death in this place.

Upon disembarking, I was greeted by a cynic who recommended speaking to the mayor.
Apparently the man had jobs to offer. It seemed like divine providence, because who could better explain the region's problems to me than the local leader?

Upon meeting him and listening to his job offers, it became clear that the local militia is nothing more than empty uniforms. The security of the region is entrusted to foreigners hired as mercenaries. It may seem like a good idea, but loyalty bought with gold is always a dangerous gamble.

Either way, the contracts gave me a place to start my work.

I didn't do it for the money. That never gave me any motivation, but the truth is that people are really under constant threat here. Goblinoids, undead, marauders, cultists, and abominable creatures constantly multiply, regardless of efforts to eradicate them.

The mayor may be wrong to believe in the gold's loyalty, but he is certainly right to strike first. Exterminating these threats before an inevitable invasion of populated areas is the best way to protect people.

I don't know what the challenges of the following days will be, but for now, my sword has found no rest.

[Machado]

This island is old. Very old. And old places carry a type of evil that is difficult to eradicate.

Something feeds the hordes that grow without limit, no matter how many we bring down at the edge of the sword. Goblins always find another queen. There are always more orcs and gnolls arming themselves for a raid. And the dead. The dead never remain in their graves.

The locals have their theories, whether it's the wrath of their gods, a secret society of arcanists or simply that this is a cursed land. The fact is that no one knows for sure how to explain these phenomena.

Even death works differently in this place.

A few days ago I witnessed the execution of a necromancer in the village's trading hall. A justified death. While it lasted.

Days later I was surprised to see the same infamous man in the same hall where he was killed. But not as an undead, exactly the same as I first met him, however, without any memory of his execution or the events related to it.

This experience bothered me a lot, as I have a strange feeling of familiarity with this phenomenon, although I cannot be precise about it.

I asked aound, and strangely, I've heard similar reports from other people, but still no explanation for it.

I need to find a Kelemvorite. Maybe they have something to say. Or rather, prevent this return to life. Especially from these damn evildoers.
Sometimes death is better.

[Machado]

I already feel used to this place. I think I adapted faster than in Kara-Tur. The weather is much worse, but the food is definitely better.

Like everywhere, there is goodness and evil around every corner, but with so many foreigners arriving each week, it's hard to figure out who's who before they show their true colors.

On that note, I was pleased to find other followers of Tyr on the island. I confess that I expected more from us, given the great challenges of the place. But these alone will have to suffice for now.

Their names, Keld Lofton and Amadeus. I feel both comfortable and uncomfortable around them. They remind me a lot of the idealist I once was, which brings some nostalgia. But I don't think they have yet realized the gravity of the war we are in. They go very easy on suspects. They need to toughen up.

But despite this, they are committed and trustworthy. Qualities that are increasingly rare and necessary.

As for necromancers, arcanists and brutes, I don't bother recording their names. Everyone makes futile attempts to hide their identity. But I know their faces. As long as they keep their collars, I have no intention of taking action against them. At least until we find out what this growing horde of summoners of the dead is planning.

I tried to warn them, but no one listened to me among the adventurers. Even the Tyrrans failed to perceive the truth in my words. "Paranoid" they said. Now this alliance has been proven and has been set in motion. Who is the paranoid now?

[Machado]

It's hard to believe the air could get any darker and heavier in this frigid place.

Yesterday I was called, along with a group of adventurers, to investigate the arcane tower in the village.

I would like to know whose stupid idea it was to build something like this so close to the citizens. Arcane magic is dangerous, even in the right hands. I feel the weight of this every time I need to resort to this resource, but often, evil can only be fought with evil.

We discovered that a mad gnome had broken into the tower and was using it as a demonic workshop, transforming minotaurs into constructs.

I have no sympathy for those beasts, but someone who performs unholy experiments on conscious living beings recognizes no moral limits. And anyone who crosses this line needs to be eliminated.

Luckily for me, the group was quite competent. It's trustable. After the first confrontations with the mechanical freaks, I knew I could count on them if things got out of hand.

Finally, we find the villain. "Artificer", he identified himself. I will never understand the foolish names evildoers give themselves.

But despite being foolish and insane, the power he had achieved, mixing magic and engineering, is undeniable. Unfortunately, this saved him from sentencing that day. Hiding behind its mechanisms, it managed to escape before we found ways to reach it.

As if the alliance of murderous arcanists on the outskirts of the village weren't enough, now we have yet another maniacal wizard on the loose.
And our numbers continue to decline.

I discovered that Lofton left the island without explanation. "Ambition", "duty", the opinions of his close colleagues are divided. Either way, with each one we lose, the scales tip the other way.

Maybe it's time to start balancing the numbers...

[Machado]

A few days ago, the arcane alliance formed in Skaljard finally showed its faces in the center of the village. The fools who called me paranoid when I warned them about this group share the blame for this event.

Summoning undeads and aberrations from the lower planes, they attacked us without fear.
Rarely have I seen such a demonstration of power and evil. His motivation was just chaos. No demands or threats, just unfettered horror.

In combat, I was killed. If it had been a fair fight, perhaps the result would have been different. But fighting necromancy and demons at the same time was far beyond my capabilities. My only satisfaction was having taken one of them with me to the afterlife.
Others fell with us. Unfortunately, everyone else on our side.

But Tyr was watching over us. A ranger, Amarin Calythre, brought me back with the power of the gods. I had already fought alongside him weeks ago, hunting the queen of the bullywugs.

Despite being an elf, he shows great consideration for every life worth preserving. A good heart and an excellent fighter. Somehow I need to reward him.

As for the arcanists, I continue to hunt them, but I need to deal with them separately, and with surprise and swiftness. A wizard alone is enough of a challenge. A group is a catastrophe.

I will remind the people of this village about this. Every wizard must be kept under suspicion. Including those enslaving elementals in that tower.

[Machado]

I always say that all arcanists should be kept under suspicion. Magic is accompanied by an insatiable hunger for power. And generally, this kind of power corrupts those who seek it.

The mages in the tower in Skaljard, the same ones I helped in dealing with the Artificer, and their experiences, turned out to be just as corrupted as the mad gnome. How naive I was to believe his motivations were honest.

With the tower back under their control, they got mercenaries, (fools or evildoers, there were both among them) to capture elementals with the aim of enslaving them to finance their greed.

When his plans were revealed, a revolt began in the region. People were killed, others exiled, and we were left to clean up the mess and preserve the tenuous order this place has.

While I can't do much to resolve the damage the wizards left behind before fleeing in a flying boat, I continue to deal with the problems within my power.

While patrolling the tundra, I encountered Robert Sunshine, a Helmite, leading a mage captured for using necromancy.

I helped him escort and interrogate the criminal. He wasn't really a necromancer, just a wizard foolish enough to use powers he didn't understand. His foolishness, however, did not lessen the gravity of his actions and we executed him for it. I hope his sentence is a warning clear enough for everyone to fear. Necromancers will show no mercy under my sword.