From the 350 year old journal of Anfelan, the Blood Letter…

Notes-Project Journal of Anfelan Trisrel, Academy Of Arts Researcher, chosen as Blood Letter for the “Gathering,” Here all  possibly relevant entries in numerical order. Happy Hunting~ J.Dodal

25 I don’t know how they did it, but they have the Druid of the Nadur in custody.  She is pregnant.  That is problematic, physically and ethically.  The Board will meet tomorrow.  Preparations are under way.  One down, four to go!  The Great Gathering has begun, and I am proud to be numbered among the chosen.  

53  Dundrim Leadbelly arrived to assist in the creation of the vault.  Lady Aravae and the dwarf are now locked away in the Academy’s library pouring over designs.  Construction will be underway soon.

75 The crafters report the skin works as a lining.  It is amazing.  When the Blood touches it, it all comes alive.  Absolutely fascinating. The phylacteries are a living thing, completely created by elven hands  They are beautiful and terrible to behold.  It is amazing to be witnessing history in the making.

121 The Odoleran and Prava children have been acquired.  

152  There is still no “comfortable” way to do the letting.  Magic heals, but doesn’t ease the particular pain of the these True Blooded.  It is hard to determine how much we can take at one time.  We need significant amounts, but it costs them more than a normal human.  It is like it drains away something core to their life force.  

180  They all seem very thirsty.  Many complaints today.

191 Adine died today.  Despite all our precautions, despite the relative spendor we kept her in, it seems even a True Blooded’s body can not withstand the constant drain.   I had long proffered the idea that if we bled them over a longer time we would get a steady source, as the body would replenish itself.  But Durothil wouldn’t hear of it.  I think the tedious process of creating the Phylacteries, coupled with how long it took to find and capture even 2 of the True, took its toll on his patience.  But now the Marakenian is dead and we have only three quarters of the Phylactery filled.  In his defense, I think Durothil believes that if they die in the process then we have the blood and there is no chance of their escaping to get out and fuel more of these human atrocities.  

The war grows beyond long.  Captain Theodas has even come around to our way of thinking after The Melting.  How can one stand at the bottom of the slagging of an entire mountain face, and not be moved to action?  His team has already been successful in Garramond, and now will deliver the last True we seek.  He will not fail or falter, I know it.  Anyone witnessing the human recklessness that has unfolded in the past two years would forgo all kinds of moral qualms to do what needs be done.  

It was difficult to watch Adine waste away though.  She was such a sweet child.  Human children are so full of spirit and vigor.  The only things that kept me going in my gruesome task, was to weigh it against all those dead elven children after the Siege of Fang.  To imagine the very rain and fog turn poison around them, to imagine them clutching at their throats  and trying to wipe the burning vapor from their lips, was the iron I needed to strengthen my resolve.  I remember the rattling gasps filling my ears as hundreds of the “lucky” took sanctuary with us.  They could no longer tell their stories, but their hollow stares spoke volumes.  I thought of those stares every time I ran my blade across Adine’s body.  I heard their weak raspy breath in my ear as I watched her rich brown skin turn ashen.  The Prava family would have given her a proper burial, one with all the pomp their ancient gold can buy.  I know this, but tell that to all the families mouldering in the mass graves in Fang.  Where are their processionals?  Where are their headstones?  As I now turn my dangerous ministrations to the little Aedeleing boy the Captain has brought me, I think on teachings of Corellon, the Ascended.  He  always wrote of detachment from our own needs to achieve the Great Good.  I must harden myself, ignore the remorse and revulsion  I feel, and collect the Blood.  This war must end, and only when the Blood Magic is in elven hands will there be peace.    

200 The Druid still lives.   I think her powers have been healing her, but with the loss of the unborn child, she no longer fights the letting.  She is a husk now.  It makes my job easier, but also infinitely more difficult.

221 Theodas can not find any of Skaldian’s True spawn.  The pure line ends with a female warrior, Theia Deyrugh, who apparently died at the Battle for the Pillars.  Her body was never found, but there were no survivors.   It is a personal relief to me.  I am not strong enough to carry on this work and wish an end to it all.  

323 There is a splintering.  Dorothil is starting to experiment with Blood mixing.  Mixing the merest drops together seems to be creating powerful and bizarre effects.  Even minor cantrips have become unrecognizable.   We know that even a drop of Blood can lengthen duration, range, and damage of our spells.  However, mixing is yielding unpredictably powerful results.    Mistress Irawynn was enraged that such an experiment would even be attempted without the full consent of the Board.  Dorothil has his supporters, but the Mistress also has hers.  They are deeply divided.  I care not.  It seems the war is grinding to a halt, massive deaths on all sides.  

334  Irawynn and her supporters managed to spirit away three of the Phylactries.  Dorothil is wroth.  He believes the Mistress is returning The Blood to what is left of the Families.  After public knowledge of the details of our Great Gathering has come to light, there is little support.  The Mistress was always a fool when it came to approval or admonishments of the Noble Families. I grow weary.  

335  Dorothil came in the early hours and took a large quantity of the Nadur Blood from the Phylactry.  I didn’t bother to speak to him.  Nothing will deter him now.

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