It has been some time since I last recorded an entry in this journal. I hope my handwriting is legible enough in this record, for reasons that will become apparent. In truth, my time has been absorbed in studying the nature of sceptres and crowns, attempting to deduce the methods behind their creation. What fascinating magical articles these are, that a weapon can be named and become a sceptre: an extension of one’s might and will. More than this, the fabled crown has until recently eluded me, but I have a great revelation to impart on these pages: I am now a crownbearer, for magic, for Draoidahaek, for the archlich, for doom, and for my own great power! 

On the shore of southern Xin, close to the town of Penance, I slew a dread beast. Its fronds attempted to entangle and snap at me. It tried to drag me into the briny depths, and I confess dear reader, I never learned to swim in all my travels! Yet through strength of magic and the sharp edge of my sceptre, I cut the beast open and seized its crown, becoming a mistress of the tide! Now I need not fear drowning in the water, for I can walk upon it and command the waves like a god!

Ho, my studies therefore have been dedicated to understanding this crown of mine and unlocking its fullest potential. My great deeds drew new followers to my banner. I call this new regiment the Clustered Horns, for many of them are of fiendish descent and bear spikes, spines, and bones that protrude from their skin. Among them was an archer extraordinaire by the name of Tophenni, who I am happy to call companion and lover for the time being, and a zealous Tsul Gazarian cultist who I admire for her dedication to old methods and magic: Sheos. How I pick up these mercenaries, lose them, and find others, is the will of the archlich Khufu Triple-Wand, who I know influences things from afar.

Tophenni is a native of Xin and wanted to show me the Spearwood to the northeast. Still dedicated as I am to chronicling this journey in full, I was only too happy to receive guidance from a knowledgeable local, who unlike the people of Creuore and Dys, expressed no distrust as to my Draoidahaek origins. Tis refreshing to feel welcome, even as an object of curiosity (as I know the Xinix distrust we magi, though their ardent Katekistrix have established numerous small shrines throughout Sorcere), so I traveled with Tophenni and Sheos at my side, our followers not far behind in case we ran afoul of dangers.

Danger? Ho, we found it! As we entered the Spearwood I was introduced to the origin of its name. A mass of trees — not stakes, but trees — with sharp, spinelike branches upon which bodies were impaled, as if an enormous shrike had skewered its prey upon them for later feasting. Except these bodies — not all of them yet dead, I’m impressed to say — had been systematically skinned, some in full, others possessing a flensed torso, or degloved limb. The stench was unbearable, possibly as rich and foul as anything I encountered in Creuore. Yet in the howls of pain and pleas for mercy, I heard wise murmurings from people so close to the edge of life and death that I recorded each of them in a separate book I’ve titled “Words of the Unliving.” I endeavor to publish it separately and expect it to find a warm reception in Dys and among certain necromantically-inclined magi.

Yet, dear reader, you are wondering “where was this grave danger of which our chronicler wrote?” The dangers were manifold, I assure you! For once we were deep within the Spearwood, I spied treasured baubles and openings to long overgrown temples amid the trees. Little did I know that these impaled skinless were guardians, and that they would slide from their perches to do great battle against those who wandered too deeply! What a frightening sight (for my companions, for I fear nothing)! What murderous rage in their eyes, many of them lacking eyelids with which to blink! This skinless horde and my Clustered Horns engaged in tremendous battle as I accessed one of these forgotten temples, utilizing my knowledge of locks and traps combined with Tophenni’s awareness of the area and Sheos’s peculiar magics. We entered the temple. The beings, the treasures, the portals to other lands we found within are too numerous to recount, except to say that we spent half a season in that subterranean realm, at times peaceful with the underground peoples, at others slitting their throats and taking their food, weapons, or riches. I learned much of the origins of the Katekistrix faith, Xin’s demonic origins, and the danger this small kingdom poses to the rest of Gewinn, in many parts from mosaics and paintings on the temple walls, in others from the tongues of the blind adherents dwelling in this place.

When it was time to depart, the skinned wardens had reassumed their guardian positions, though I doubt strongly that they were the same fiends, humans, and other creatures we encountered on our way in. They must surely have died by now, unless a magic in the Spearwood somehow preserves the ones who do not succumb to their impalement.

We rediscovered the remains of the Clustered Horns, who had laid waste to several Xinix villages, and ventured southwest to the border wall between Xin and Tsul Gazar. Crossing would take much gold and certain sacrifices (these Katekistrix believe ardently in self-mutilation if there’s nobody close by to maim), and while I shall miss both of my little fingers, I believe it’s a price worth paying to enter the jungle realm.