Defiance in the Face of Alestair

   I arrived on the shore of my once home, the fort atop the hill had become foreign to me, shrouded in Shadow and strange banners. At the crest of the hill, where the path split three ways, I stopped and collected my thoughts. Yes indeed, the enemy had waylaid my home and imprisoned my kindred. Many would ask why I had come ashore, knowing full well I could and most likely would be killed. Only a coward turns his back on his kindred.
   As I stood there, one of Alestair's lieutenants approached me from behind, muttering threatening words. After our short exchange, I ripped his soul from his body, and my sword found his chest. The wild-men who had made camp on the shores, those who had aided in claiming the island from us, had watched from afar, being more loyal to their own selves than their new master. After such a display from a man of my stature, they seemed willing to let me inside and to do as I pleased. 

. . .

   I found the interior surprisingly quiet, other than the wild men who had curiously observed me as I walked to the far end of the hall. I was seeking the prisoners, my kindred, and I had found them. Sitting behind a gated door was a man I barley recognized. This was a curiosity, drawing my attention for a moment as I wondered how he could possibly been here, as the last time I saw him he was deep in the wilderness and had little interest in talking to strangers. I approached swiftly, intending to free them. I admit that I had taken few precautions... I had been ambushed immediately before the door, struck in the back and neck at once.
   I remember little... I fought hard, as I had in my younger days, I drew my blade, driving it into the chest of one of my attackers. Somehow, my kindred escaped, as I lay in a pool of my blood. Mortanas came to my side, ushering me to rise. We spoke so briefly he could hardly get a word in edgewise, before I told him to run. The enemy ambush was now in full force and falling upon all of us, our warriors now no longer prisoner took up what weapons they could find and charged for the door. 
   It breaks my heart how Mortanas looked at me as I slowly crawled to my feet, leaning against the wall. With tears in his eyes, I could just make out the words, "Goodbye." I can still remember how I smiled and told him what I tell everyone, "I don't much care for goodbyes." 

. . . 

   Sitting in my desk chair, the door behind shudders. They'll break it down soon I wager, though it hardly matters. My wounds are untended, and if they do not kill me, my wounds will soon. I don't know what manner of men ambushed us, they are clad in thick black armor, and clearly braver and more well trained than the wild-men. 

   To anyone who reads this, know that I did my duty well. I shall die fighting. The Shadow shall not endure. I have freed my folk. Retribution is coming. 
 
- Daltor Hellebore, Advisor to Draugmir.

*The bottom of the page is soaked in blood*