*Another letter, send to Jierdan of the Swaggers inn*

[Notes:]

*The hand writing is clearly defined, the scripture rough in it's own elegance with slight jabs of a quill, making small splotches  on the dry parchment*

Notes:

Darath Mithar, Regular Guardsma - monthly heretic church is cleaned by the use of pyromanical devices, fire and sulphur mixtures, with the igniting effect of alcholoic liquids, supposedly meant to cleanse the church, thus, keeping out any inconveniant "deadites**" as he refered to them.

*Small picture attached, a crude drawing, roughly made.*


Note to self - he  warned me seriously of investigating any disturbances or tomes which contains undead knowledge, or the hint of the Guardian, since insanity might be outcome of it.

*Small outline of sketches are seen below, small notes attached to the characters, looking like small speech bubbles, and even smaller marks resting on the outline of the pictures*


Note: Heretic church, found east of the local graveyard, were curiously as in few graveyards where the Guardians grasp holds, actual liches can be found, suspectingly by own estimation, a sign of a more aggresive and profound swarm of "deadites" in Cove.

Pentagram found on floor, four by four paces, the pentagram showing in red lined writing, I suspect dried blood, a ancient scripture, most commonly known as a cursed tounge, spoken only by alcolytes I assume, of the undeads, or deadites, as it is.

Darath Mithar, guardsman took us down to perform a cleansing, thankfully, his great mistrust and great compulsion with Elves did not make him keep his tounge tied, thankfully explaining why they perform the burnings, as I understand, each third month, thus keeping the effect of the Guardian stones** nullified

Conviniently, this ritual, as I will call it, only works mediocrely, as it seems a deadite shorlty appeared after the cleansing was performed, drawing weapons and indicating he knew what us, the guardsmen had done.

Note to self: Do not face a undead on your own, they are stronger then humans, or indeed elfs, and are fearless and immune to pain, as it seems.

I then further investigated, speaking to local guardsman and woman, Hoagie and Mela, about how one perhaps could further his research, and conjure up a real image of, perhaps, what the Heretic church as it is called, might actually have been.

*Small crude images, rough in there working are drawn undernearth, notes and markings attached*


To gather this knowledge, both assured me only source of information would be to aquire a certain Father Odentheous, the ways in which I was meant to get his attention didn't seem likely, as they joked about the different assortment of reasons he might let me study the tomes.

Luckily, for once, I found him outside, I suspect, tending the garden or just watching his surroundings. Shockingly he as the only I seen, looked over the factumising evidential proof that I was a elf, and was only slightly gruff, if considered rude, in helping me in to study some tomes, his posture and demenor suppressing a absent likelyhood that he thought I would fail.

*Small drawings are seen, markings and a tight border surrounding it*


What I found was most mistifying, a collection of books which dealt with the Heretical church, however not once mentioning its name, it explained about Guardian Stones, I copied out some parchments, which I can keep here for further deciphering

*Small etchings of pages are blurted on, small notes attached to the pages.*


Note: The book has to be given back 2nd week on Tuesday, or I shall be branded.

What it contained even astonished me, vivid images and contrasts, as the author went to explain of the uses of a device known as Guardian stones, and what such devices were used for, I will leave a small bit at the buttom, to remind myself of what I know of this Guardian stone.

With this newfound fountain of knowledge I left the study only to find a rambling mad man accusing me of being a rebel, without ever getting to speak I was suddenly impaled it felt, by a shard of fire, his arms flailing wildly as he threw his arcane arts at me, if not for the training offered to me by Garak Nightchill, Watchman, I know I would now never have had the luxury of writing this book of notes, but plainly, yet hopefully, mournfully, placed into a grave.

As he was disposed of, a friar, Roland Dagorian he introduced himself as, asked me what occured, I told him, and then I suddenly recalled that friars must have more knowledge about anything to do with undeads on there fingertip, then I can reach to read in a year, so asking for a private audience, he grudgingly agree'd

*A random assortment of paintings and drawings as shown beneath, notes attached to each drawing*


I wasn't the only one who seemed to have dwelt into the realm of Guardian Stones, the Friar shocking me with his knowledge as he spoke with his commanding voice, thus now I seem to be working for the church, to find out, for them, as well as my own curiousity, what the hell is a Guardian Stone?

As I finshed the book slowly on Guardian stones, I must admit I let out a slight shiver, the poor author having gone insane, delirium drowning him in hidden guilt, him going on to explain about the evils he did, thinking they were dreams, sadly I suspect from what the last page entail, that the man is dead, and judging from the date, quite along time ago.

*A small parchment is attached*



Clearly his insanity had reached a climax, thus breaking, does occur I suspect if one studies books filled with horrors of the past.

Do hope I never end up like him.. poor soul