Spellslinger Synopsis

[Ixos 2: the Sequel]

The Journal of Dr. Charlven Hague
Arrival in Harmony

Silent Sulor and I took the stagecoach from Big Laugh to Harmony. The journey lasted most of a day. There was one other passenger on the stage with us, a large dark-skinned human man, intimidating not only due to his size, but also because of the huge maul he carried. The man’s name was Samuel – he never gave a last name – and he was a close-mouthed as Sulor, or near as such. Needless to say, the journey was made the longer for it.

Samuel was accompanied by a man named Clive Reneker, a spell-slinger of little renown. Mr. Reneker, unlike his quiet friend, was rather talkative, and I learned that he wished to change his reputation. He seemed confident enough in his skills, but I had nothing but his word to judge whether his ability was real or simply braggadocio. And although Mr. Reneker seemed friendly enough, he gave me the impression of aloofness; he had elected to ride his horse rather than in the coach with the rest of us.

We arrived in Harmony at dusk – I do not know the exact hour as my pocketwatch does not keep good time. Harmony is a rough place, probably the furthest west point of civilization in the Territories. The town is populated by miners and spell-slingers, what with the arcane geode mines in such close proximity. I admit to a bit of nervousness; after all, Sulor and I had considered Friendly Town to be a rough place. Harmony resembled a level of Damnation compared to Friendly Town!

Considering our circumstances, I was disposed to offer a partnership to Mr. Reneker and Samuel. After all, myself being completely ignorant of how one is to comport oneself in such an environment, I felt I would need guidance. Mr. Reneker seemed as if he were accustomed to such situations, nay, as if he were born to them. My proposal was thus: I explained to him my quest to find my Uncle Ray – omitting the unpleasant details, to my shame – and admitting that I could not afford to pay him much, but if he were to offer his assistance, perhaps I could someday find a way to repay him, monetarily. He responded favorably, and commented that “opportunities” would always present themselves when I mentioned my lack of funds. I sincerely hoped that he wasn’t referring to illicit activities, but having little recourse on my end, the deal was struck.

We obtained lodging at Mediera House, paid for from my rapidly dwindling funds. I questioned the proprietor, one Ms. Eugena Hardesty, if she knew of my uncle. She informed me that she did not, and suggested that we seek information at Big Annie’s, the local saloon. After a hearty meal and arrangements for breakfast, the four of us agreed to ask after Uncle Ray at Big Annie’s.

I suggested to Mr. Reneker that he lead the charge as it were on our mission at Big Annie’s. He seems the kind of man to frequent such establishments, and was, in fact, eager to go. I offered him money on the stipulation that he repay me the amount loaned and half his gambling profits; he declined, claiming that he is not a good gambler, evidenced by his current poverty. I could not argue with the logic. The suggestion that he hire “entertainment” for the evening was brought up; circumstances did not allow him to follow up on this enthusiasm.

The four of us enjoyed a very entertaining dancing performance, and then one of the dancers approached us. Her name was Tizzie Walcot, and a delightful young woman she was.

Unfortunately, our conversation was interrupted by a drunken lout who would later learn was named Alton Eaves. He put his hands on Miss Walcot in an ungentlemanly manner, and Mr. Reneker and I both rose to defend her honor. When words did not suffice, I rapped Eaves soundly on the nose with my heavy cane, just as one would chastise a disobedient dog. He reached for his pistol, and I was slow to draw mine, but Mr. Reneker was faster.

I believe I’ve chosen my ally wisely. Mr. Reneker’s shot was accurate and powerful. Eaves was blown off of his feet, and sailed through the air like a bit of dandelion fluff. I am a physician, and it is my duty to heal the sick or wounded, and so I tended to Eaves’ wounds. He will live.

Eaves’ friends took him away, throwing threats of retribution back at us in their wake as such men are wont to do.

We were approached by Big Annie – a rather attractive halfling woman who could be described as anything but “big;” the nickname is obviously meant to be ironic – who assured us that gunfights happen frequently at her saloon and that we should spare no concern about the matter, or about Eaves. Thusly reassured, I enquired about Uncle Ray. She said the name and description sounded familiar. I happily asked that she inform me immediately should she remember anything more.

I also spoke with a pair of elves only recently returned to “civilization” from the wild. The elves could provide no clues about Uncle Ray, but they did mention a shifter mystic who’d been trying to rally the local shifter packs to his cause of intolerance. This mystic is named Crooked Fang, and it seems he is not only charismatic, but is also a skinwalker. I’d heard such legends during my time with the Water Snake pack, but my friend Red Leaf was adamant that these legends were only myth.

Whatever the case, I feel it is my duty to address the situation with Crooked Fang. I come from the elite of one society, and I have lived with the lowest of the other. I admit that in this situation, I am torn. I believe that the progress of civilization is not only inexorable, it is right. But if that progress means the annihilation of another culture, is that not wrong? My prayers to the Lady of Mercy have offered me no insight. I want to believe and I wish with all my heart that a peaceful coexistence can be won, but I am a scholar and a scientist, and history proves again and again that in such situations, war is the inevitable outcome. I am a physician; “first, do no harm.” I believe in the Doctor’s Creed. And so, in my own small way, must I not exert my efforts into preventing a war that would be horrifically costly to both sides?

My mind grows weary with these weighty thoughts, but I have made my decision. My personal quest must be put aside for the present. I have spoken with Mr. Reneker, and on the morrow we will decide whether we shall pursue Crooked Fang or if we shall visit his pack, the Flying Eagle.

It has been a long and eventful day, and my leg pains me. I look forward to a restful, dreamless sleep. I’ve made arrangements for breakfast in the morning for myself and my newfound friends. I trust that on the morrow, the Lady will offer enlightenment, or, if she remains recalcitrant, that my own mind will discover a conclusive course of action.

Day Two in Harmony

We were awakened by terrible screams in the middle of the night. Silent Sulor and I, clad only in our nightclothes, leapt from our beds and charged forthwith to the source of the commotion, pausing only to collect weaponry (and I my cane). Arriving upon the scene, we were presented with a throng of townsfolk staring with horror upon the corpse on Mr. Alton Eaves, his throat having been ripped from his body.

Miss Walcot, having discovered the mutilated body, was distraught with fear and sadness; I did my utmost to comfort her.

Sheriff Able Garber, a dumpy and witless man, arrived upon the scene. He proceeded to question Miss Walcot, allowing me the opportunity to examine the corpse. It seemed as if the poor man’s throat had been ripped away by main strength. There was no evidence of attack by beast; the man hadn’t been mauled by any animal in that I could detect no evidence of biting or clawing. Could a man have done this?

It seemed implausible. My mind immediately went to the place where I could only accuse a shifter – Crooked Fang being the most likely suspect – or somebody with motive to frame the shifter mystic. The legends came back to me; could Crooked Fang really have the power to transform himself into a beast? My scientific brain rebels at the idea, but my own experiences seem to verify the wild possibility. After all, I know that ghosts are real.

Dr. Oswald Hoppes, the local “physician” arrived upon the horrific scene to perform his own examination. Dr. Hoppes is a young, thin man, and I believe him to be rather unskilled; a “quack” to use a colloquialism. The doctor confirmed my findings, and the body of poor Mr. Eaves was taken to the undertaker’s. Dr. Hoppes is Harmony’s undertaker as well as physician and barber. A man of many talents, it would seem.

Meanwhile, Sheriff Garber insisted, pleasantly but firmly, that my three companions and I return with him to the jail house. He had questions for us he claimed. Mr. Reneker put forth the idea that perhaps Miss Walcot should join us during the questioning; after all, it had been she who’d found the body of Mr. Eaves. The sheriff disagreed, so it was only the four of us who joined him at his office.

A brief argument ensued upon our arrival. The sheriff insisted that we stay the night in jail, but that we were not under arrest. We countered that if we’d done nothing wrong, and he no justification to place us under arrest, then there was no legal reason for our detainment. Despite my better judgment, it was finally decided that we would stay as a courtesy to the sheriff (who claimed that it was only for our protection, as the local populace was distrustful of we strangers, and were possibly looking for retribution against us). We did not, however, deign to be placed in any cells, and instead drank bad coffee. I played chess against Sulor, and Mr. Reneker tried to teach me his favorite card game.

It was during this time that Sheriff Garber was called away by a man named Jasper King. I was able to overhear part of the conversation, the gist of which is thus: Mr. King works for Wilford van Horn, the richest and most powerful man in Harmony. Mr. van Horn owns and operates all of the residuum geode mines in the area, and most of the townsfolk here are under his employ in one way or another. Mr. King had been sent by Mr. van Horn to suggest that the sheriff solve this murder quickly. It seems as if van Horn had the idea that myself and my friends should be framed for the murder!

We have decided to speak with Miss Walcot, presumably the last person to see Mr. Eaves alive. Although the sun has yet to rise, we grow restless waiting here. Sheriff Garber indicated that, considering the mood of the town, and Mr. van Horn’s urging that we be framed for the murder, we should either leave on the first stage out, or else solve the case ourselves. I find it distasteful to be accused of a murder I did not commit, and Mr. Reneker agrees. We will investigate.

That Night, at Mediera House

We learned from Miss Walcot that Eaves had had an encounter with the Badget Brothers earlier in the day of his murder. The encounter had grown violent. Having no other leads, we resolved to investigate at the mines, and question the Lawton and Cyrus Badget.

Our reception at the mines quickly grew violent. The watchman there was surly and impatient, and when did not immediately obey his command to leave, he drew his pistol and called for reinforcements. Among the reinforcements were Lawton and Cyrus Badget, both skilled spellslingers. The gunfight did not go well for us, and I was forced to call the ghost swarm; I am decidedly nervous that word of my curse will become widespread, and I don’t know how the people of Harmony will feel about it. Our time in Harmony might be short, indeed.

The Badgets were merciful enough to accept our surrender, and when we explained our purpose of seeking them out, they seemed genuinely sorrowful that Alton Eaves was dead. It seems that Mr. Eaves had liked to gamble, but he was not good at it. The Badgets had apparently won quite a bit of gold from him. So, their sorrow was of a monetary nature and not out of friendship. I was, however, convinced that they had not done the deed, and we departed on relatively good terms.

I apologize for the brevity of this entry. My wounds, although not severe, have incapacitated me at least for the rest of the day. I desire now only supper and sleep.

Day Three in Harmony

We were awakened once again by horrible screams. This time, Sulor and I took a few extra minutes to fully caparison ourselves – I refused to be ogled by a crowd wearing only my nightgown again!

This time, it was Miss Tizzie Walcot who was dead. Just as the case with Mr. Eaves, her throat had been torn from her body. A most horrible way to die, and I felt more than a bit of sorrow at Miss Walcot’s fate. I examined the scene carefully, looking for any clues that could point to either man or shifter or beast. My suspicions were still on Crooked Fang, but something wasn’t right. Why would the shifter mystic attack seemingly at random? Would not he wish to make his presence known? After all, if he were trying to send a message to the citizens of Harmony, he would surely want them to know the culprit.

I found neither fur nor tracks of beasts. The wound showed no marks of claw or fang. But I did find a beaded tassel, and I knew from whence it had come, and thus, the culprit.

I did not remark upon it earlier, for I had considered it to be only an inconsequential eccentricity of a man needful of such things. But I remembered back to the night previous. When Dr. Hoppes had come to examine the corpse of Mr. Eaves, he had with him a huge Book of Mercy. And with the holy Book, a beaded bookmark with tassels of the exact same design as that of the beaded string I’d found!

I secreted the beaded tassel in my pocket and eagerly awaited the arrival of Dr. Hoppes. He arrived presently, and I watched with interest as he drew forth his Book. I commented on the age of the thing, inquired if it were a family heirloom. He responded in the affirmative. I inquired as to the bookmark, and he replied that it was neither an heirloom nor particularly old. When I revealed the missing tassel, he grew furious, and admitted his guilt immediately.

It was evident that the man was mad, as he began raving about how he had taken the evil from his victims. The sheriff tried to place him under arrest, at which point Dr. Hoppes flew into a bloodthirsty rage, as the berserkers of old. The gathered crowd dispersed in terror – the sheriff among them – and it was left to my companions and I to subdue the mad murderer.

We managed to corner the madman, at which point he snarled something to the effect that he’d saved us all, and how we would never know the price he’d paid or the gift he’d given. He then placed the muzzle of his pistol beneath his chin, and pulled the trigger.

The sheriff arrived subsequently to take charge of the scene. He ordered Miss Walcot’s body taken to the undertaker’s office, and we told him the story of our scuffle with Dr. Hoppes. Satisfied with our account, he released us, and we immediately walked to Dr. Hoppes’ office to search for clues. Needless to say, we had little confidence in Sheriff Garber’s ability to investigate the matter.

We found nothing of consequence there. Miss Walcot had been taken there and left for the undertaker’s replacement, but nothing else was out of the ordinary. The four of us decided to investigate the doctor’s house; we would have to be discreet, and I admit to a bit of nervousness at the idea of breaking into the house. But measures such as these are sometimes required.

At Dr. Hoppes’ house, secreted beneath loose floorboards, we discovered a pair of jars. The jars were full of formaldehyde, and immersed within were the ripped away throats of the victims, Mr. Eaves and Miss Walcot. My examination of the flesh revealed two puncture wounds on each.

My heart raced at the implications, but I managed to retain my composure as I hurriedly explained my suspicions. Dr. Hoppes may have been mad, but he had been trying, in his own way, to protect the people he’d sworn to heal. But in his ignorance, he’d managed nothing more than to bring about his own death, at his own hand.

We raced back to the doctor’s office, and my worst fear was realized: the body of Miss Tizzie Walcot was missing. Through the windows, we could see the light of torches and lanterns at the cemetery. We hurried there to investigate the commotion, but all four of us knew what we would find.

The grave of Alton Eaves had been disturbed, dug up from the inside. The unholy beast that had once been Alton Eaves had escaped the prison of his grave. There are two of them on the loose, two undead predators with the hunger for human blood. Harmony is not safe, and I suspect that the people here do not even understand their danger.

I am now torn in my intentions, and I believe the fact of my rapidly dwindling funds will make my decision for me.

On the one hand, there is the quest to find my Uncle Ray, and the hopes that he possesses some knowledge of how to break my curse. The trail in Harmony is cold, and I fear that I will never find him unless I continue the search elsewhere.

On the other hand, there is the presence of two creatures of the night that are surely stalking the citizens of this place. The people here are ill equipped to deal with such a threat, but I am somewhat versed in such matters. And there is the threat of Crooked Fang; the shifter mystic will surely gather support for his misguided cause unless he is dissuaded. I have experience with shifters, and I believe my expertise could help prevent bloodshed. Lastly, the people of Harmony need a physician. Medicine is what I was born to do, and what I’ve dedicated my life to up to this point. I understand that they cannot pay fees such as I’m accustomed to, and that my previous life of opulence would be forever lost. But I cannot in good conscience abandon people in such great need.

I have made my decision. I will inform Mr. Reneker and Samuel on the morrow that our informal contract is null and void, and they are free to seek their fortune where they will. I have grown fond of their company over the past few days, and I hope they will remain in Harmony.

[Ixos 2: the Sequel]

It has been several eventful days since my last entry, I am afraid. I have little time to write this at present, but I feel it necessary to record the events while they are still fresh in my memory. My companions and I are currently at the Asberry Farm, taking a brief rest from the violence we’ve just committed. But I must begin almost a week before so that you may have the proper context.

During the four days after our discovery that Dr. Hoppes was both insane and would-be protector of Harmony, and the fact that an apparent vampire is prowling the area, I have become the town’s doctor, and Clive Reneker has become Harmony’s newest deputy. The four of us, including Silent Sulor and Samuel, have moved into the former doctor’s home; the lodgings are cramped, and it is my fervent hope that Mr. Reneker and his large friend find other accommodations soon.

I busied myself with my work during those four days, becoming acquainted with the people of Harmony and learning more about my new neighbors, their state of health, and the kinds of maladies they are likely to suffer. They seem to have come to trust, if not particularly like, myself. Mr. Reneker they seem to have taken an immediate liking to, and it is he more often than the sheriff that they seek out if in need of police.

I also spent this time studying the Book of Mercy. I am not and have never been a particularly religious man, but I feel it necessary to learn the ancient ways of the Lady of Mercy. Legend says that the ancient priests and holy men had special powers against the undead, and therefore, if I can learn these powers, perhaps I can fight the vampires that now plague Harmony. And perhaps I can find a cure for my own curse.

It was during this time that I experienced a most unusual dream. In the manner of dreams, I found myself in a vague, shadowy place, empty save for a cage. Locked within was my Uncle Ray, and kneeling outside the cage was a dark figure. “Where is it?” this person asked. “Tell me and I’ll let you go.”

It was at this point that my presence was detected. The man – I can only assume it was a man, as I had no way to determine the person’s gender, their features obfuscated by shadow – suddenly rose and spun on me. A feeling of dread overwhelmed me as the intense eyes bored into my very soul.

“Leave this place if you do not wish to join your Uncle,” the figure commanded. “Persist in your endeavors and you will certainly be destroyed!”

I jerked awake with a start in my bed, and it took a few moments for me to regain my bearings. I have seldom experienced such a vivid and disturbing dream, and I know not what it could mean. I had not been a superstitious man before, and even now my intellect seeks to explain my dream away as the result of the recent busy days. But, considering my life over the past year or so, I cannot simply dismiss the dream as strange fancy. Perhaps my uncle is trying to send me a message of some sort. Or perhaps the shadowy figure that looked into me is sending the message. I cannot know, and for now I will simply wait for more evidence.

We were enjoying a meal, the four of us, at the Mediera House the next morning when a young boy ran into the establishment shouting for the deputy. There had been an attack at the Bonner Farm. We set off immediately to investigate, and what we found was a scene of gore. Blood and bodies were everywhere, it was a massacre. We followed some tracks that led off into the forest, but all we found was an aggressive pack of wolves. These beasts, though vicious, could not have been responsible for the attack on the farm.

We proceeded to a neighboring farm, this one owned by Mr. Alvie Cutts. Mrs. Cutts was alone, and she had seen nor heard nothing of the attack. Mr. Cutts arrived shortly thereafter, and Mr. Reneker, myself, and our friends decided to remain at the farm in case of further attack. The night passed uneventfully, however, and we returned to Harmony in the morning.

Whilst returning to our home, we saw an ancient shifter elder walk into town and down Main St. The ancient was carrying a parley cloth – a long quilled scarf with designs indicating his heritage and ancestry. I approached him and introduced myself. He said his name was White Eye.

During our conversation, he told me that he had been sent by the Morning Dove tribe with a warning for “the smoothskins of the tribe of Harmony.” The warning was this – the smoothskins must stay away from the mountains. They had agreed not to go there, and had signed a sacred treaty, but have since broken that treaty. White Eye assured me that it was not his tribe that the smoothskins should fear, but the angry spirits of the mountains. If the smoothskins continued to break the treaty, evil would befall all people of all tribes everywhere.

We assured White Eye that we would investigate the matter, and the elder returned home. The four of us went to confer with Sheriff Garber about the events of the previous night and the morning. He informed us that his own investigation of the Bonner Farm had yielded no clues. He also indicated that it would only be the miners who would break any treaty to enter the mountains. We learned that Bernard Wappler is the representative of the mining consortium in Harmony, so we decided to pay the man a visit.

Mr. Wappler was quite disappointing. He admitted that he is little more than a secretary, having little power of his own. I was pleasantly surprised by this admission; it has been my experience that petty bureaucrats are rather full of themselves, no matter their exact position or how insignificant their real duties. I had expected to Mr. Wappler to attempt to intimidate us with however much power he seemed to think he possessed, but such was not the case. He simply told us to talk with Mr. Wilford van Horn, the richest miner in the area.

Van Horn’s estate was a veritable fortress, and resembled an armed compound more than a mansion. The gatekeeper informed us that Mr. van Horn entertains no visitors during the daylight hours; presumably, the man’s time is completely taken up running his business. The gatekeeper vaguely indicated that we could make an appointment, and we assured him we would return the following night.

It was tonight that we set out for our appointment with Mr. van Horn, but on the road to his estate, we heard screaming from a nearby farmhouse. We rushed to investigate. In the front yard, we espied several small creatures feeding upon a pair of dead bodies. With horror, we realized the small creatures were, in fact, undead children! It was with sadness that we put them down.

We heard more screaming coming from the barn, and we rushed inside. Within, we found a mother – Mrs. Martha Asberry – and her two children beset by a veritable horde of shambling undead. We set about to our grisly work, slaughtering the undead and freeing the woman and her children.

She informed us that her husband was still inside the house, and so we went in, fearing that we would find him already dead. Our suspicions were confirmed when we entered the house and found a trio of undead beasts within. One of them was feeding upon the unfortunate Mr. Asberry when we entered. He let the body go to drop lifeless to the floor and turned to face us – it was Alton Eaves! His flesh was pale and covered with a mask of fresh blood, and glittering from within his bloody mouth was a pair of long white fangs.

We put the beast down, and then, with heavy hearts, we informed Mrs. Asberry of the fate that had befallen her husband. She took the news as well as could be expected. The four of us must now accompany her back to Harmony to ensure her safety. I will not speculate on her new situation, on whether or not she has friends or family to fall back on in her time of loss, but all myself and my companions can do is see to her immediate safety.

It seems our appointment with Mr. van Horn must wait.

[Ixos 2: the Sequel]

Mr. van Horn is dead, and many of the assumptions I had previously made have been proven false. But such is life, as the philosophers might say, and reality is seldom in synchronicity with perception. The mysteries we’ve uncovered have been further compounded with deeper mysteries. And the answers seem as fleeting as the fireflies that flash on my dusk-clad lawn as I sit and write this.

Mr. van Horn was not what we expected. He was an older man, perhaps in his late fifties, but pale and sickly. A pronounced limp and hunched back demanded the use of a cane, and his speech was often interrupted by a wracking cough. His home more resembled an armed compound than a mansion, as many rough men with firearms were present. A mysterious shed behind the house was heavily guarded, and I could perceive no purpose but mischief for such security.

When we presented Mr. van Horn with evidence of treaty violations, he denied any involvement, of course. He was curt with us and rather rude. Despite the weight of the law on our side in the person of Mr. Reneker, we had no proof that Mr. van Horn was guilty of any wrongdoing. We had our suspicions to be sure, but it was proof we needed and lacked. And we rightly suspected that such proof could be found in that mysterious shed behind the house.

We waited until the estate grounds grew quiet, and then slipped from our hiding places in the woods nearby. We stole up behind the shed, and quickly dispatched the guards that had been posted at the door. Within the shed was a hole in the earthen floor, dug at a gentle slope so as to form a ramp for easy ingress and egress. Down into the depths we went.

I will not recount in detail all of the horrors we discovered beneath the ground. But it is obvious that Mr. van Horn was a necromancer of some sort, creating undead monstrosities from the bodies of the innocent. We did manage to rescue one young girl, and she remains, due to her terrible ordeal within those caves of madness, unresponsive and senseless.

We made other discoveries, too. A great chamber in that manmade cave system contained replicas of ancient relics, reproductions of several cave paintings that depicted a history of sorts. I have worked to decipher and interpret these ancient pictures:

An ancient race of men were hunted by a fanged creature of the night. They chased it into the mountains, and there it hid from them. During this time, the creature came upon a crystal-lined chamber, in the center of which stood a large glowing crystal. The creature touched the crystal, and was infused with power, an eldritch energy that made the creature strong and immune to rays of the sun, which were deadly to it. The people were enslaved by the creature, and a city was built inside the mountain. Some of the people were transformed into wolfen guards, and others were kept as cattle for food. But the people revolted, and the creature – a vampire – was slain. But the wolfen guards were not so easily destroyed, and the disease spread. In time, only a handful of people were left to record the demise of their civilization.

This I believe is an origin legend of the shifters. I had never heard this legend before, despite the fact that Red Leaf and I discussed many such things during my time with the Water Snake tribe. Is it possible that the Water Snakes hold to a different creation myth, or is this legend so old as to have been forgotten?

After the discovery of this trophy room, we made our way to a laboratory. Within was a cage – the cage from my dream! My uncle was not present, but it was obvious that the cage had been occupied but recently. The trail, it seems, is not as cold as I had begun to believe.

Also within this laboratory, we discovered a desk, and we found several pieces of correspondence within. There was a map that showed the location of a mine in the mountains. This was the evidence we needed to prove Mr. van Horn’s guilt! There were also letters to Mr. van Horn that tell of people dying in the mountains, and then rising again from the grave. We have seen this first-hand, in Harmony, and even though Alton Eaves is dead, Miss Tizzie Walcott is still “alive,” and there is the beast that initially transformed them. It seems obvious that one or both of these creatures of the night has entered the mountains, and is preying upon the miners that live and work there.

One other letter we found, this one addressed to an Ephram Nobles. This letter spoke of a man headed this way that can speak with the dead. It is dated just before our arrival in Harmony, and I can only assume that it is warning Ephram Nobles of me. I must keep a sharp watch for this man, for he is surely watching for me.

Mr. van Horn was waiting for us when we exited his dungeon. Although Mr. Reneker attempted to arrest him, he chose to fight, and he was slain. His last words were, “But he promised me…”

We’ve returned to Harmony with the evidence we discovered, the young lady we rescued, and the body of Mr. van Horn. We also have a host of new mysteries, the answers to questions we’d uncovered simply begging more questions. I am unsure of which path to take, but I think that, no matter which way we set out, all paths will lead into the mountains.