[WFRP 3e] Eye For An Eye Part 5
Continued from the Journal of Tor'endirathelevellon to His Lady Ariel, Queen of the Elves of the WoodPart 4
This is the way the world ends: Not with a bang but a whimper.
It is because you have seen first-hand the ravages of chaos and beastmen that I feel confident telling you what I witnessed in the basement that night. The beasts of the wood a fell and foul creatures, indeed, but the pure, palpable evil of these human cultists make beastment seem perfectly natural.
As we stared into the macabre ritual taking place, I could feel part of my spirit, my very essence, sucked out of me to fuel rite. Trying my hardest to ignore the chill of evil, I shot as rapidly as possible toward the one-eyed Gregor in a vain attempt to forestall future events.
Two arrows struck the man and hardly seemed to slow him from his chaotic murmurings. Blood erupted from my arrows' wounds, but it was not the red blood we expect from humans. It was a sickly dark color, more expected from dwarfish machinery than a living being. The thrice-damned doctor and the female cook left their places in the circle to attack me.
Dr. Steiger pulled out a scalpel, sliced a shallow wound into his own neck, and then used the filthy instrument to puncture my unarmored chest. There was something otherworldly about the wound, and I felt my very sanity become unhinged. Though I suffered other wounds during this battle, I believe it is this one, infected wound that is the cause of this sickness which will shortly take my life.
Beside me, Stedd, the dwarven boatman also attacked the feral cultists. Though his attacks were precise and vicious, the crazed humans seemingly refused to die. It took too long for the dwarf to break through the human ranks to reach the altar and attempt to stop the ritual.
The doctor and the cook continued to assault me with the scalpel and a meat cleaver. As you know, my specialty is with the bow, and though I dodged and parried, in the end they overwhelmed me. I fell to the floor, my precious lifeblood pumping out of multiple wounds.
Stedd reached Gregor, but not before the steward could plunge his unholy dagger into the bound sacrifice. The tapestry on which the sacrifice lay began to glow a sickly hue. Gregor, the doctor, and the cook made their escape while Stedd was entangled with a remaining cultist.
As I lay dying, I thought back upon the task you had assigned to me. I thought of my forest home and how comfortable, even arrogant I was in its familiar embrace. We elves are prepared to fight massive, inhuman beasts. We are prepared to defend ourselves from unnatural magics as they assault our peaceful glades and glens. We drill in preparation to slaughter evil races who infringe on our homeland. However, we are not prepared for the duplicitous nature of humanity. We are not ready for the race of creatures that should be aiding us in our eternal battle against chaos but instead spend their time waging internal wars.
The humans are not ready to join our cause. They are neutralized, battling the enemy within.
Torendir was found in the basement during the cleanup after the events at Grunewald Lodge. He was feverish but alive. He was taken to a private room in the lodge, too weak to walk but able to pen this missive to his queen. Shortly after completing his message, the elf looked longingly out the room's window into the forest below. Stedd was present as 'Tor' exhaled one last painful breath and never breathed in again.