The Death Of Tarlov

As I have been commanded by My King, His Majesty King Mykel Endarr of Evendarr, I will attempt to faithfully chronicle the events of the weekend of August 7, 598 YE in the area of the Bloodhawk Valley of Volta in the Kingdom of Evendarr.

We arrived on the evening of Friday August 7th as commanded. An eerie mist cloaked the field, and undead walked the night. The night was warm, but slightly overcast, and very muggy.

The people gathered to hear the words of the royalty that were present, and as they listened, were attacked by waves of undead. As a small still point came in this battle, the group moved to investigate the prison or lair of Tarlov Y’Koharitan, and find what state matters were in at that time.

Tarlov was found to be awake, and aware of our approach. He was scornful of our ability to do him any harm. He attacked the Duke of Volta, using his tie to the land to injure that of Duke Adric Voltan. As Duke Adric fell, Tarlov turned his attack upon the Prince of Northmarch and the Heart, Prince Kevynn Blackfox. King Mykel Endarr deflected that attack with the weapon of power that he held, the “Amarth Ma Nazgul.” or “Doom of Ghosthand.” In the process, the great hope of all was dashed, as the artifact was broken.

Tarlov laughed, and sent his minions into the crowd, to seek a scribe to chronicle his eventual victory, most specifically, Myself. As I made my attempt to escape from the area, all was thrust into a stoppage of Time itself.

I came to myself seated within a Circle of Power in Tarlov’s sanctuary. I was told by Tarlov himself that I was to chronicle the upcoming events within his Journal and that if I did so, faithfully copying his words, he would not be obliged to do anything horrible to me, as he had had to do to others who had failed in that job. I allowed that while that chronicle was indeed the reason that I had come to Bloodhawk Valley, and while I would not have chosen that spot from which to do it, it seemed unavoidable at that time... I was given Tarlov’s Journal.

Tarlov then spoke to his minions, discussing their ongoing plans, and waxing lyrical about the glory of his eventual victory, and the ultimate peace, when all elemental dross was removed from our plane, and it shone as spirit only, perfected, and free of physical limits. One of his undead minions challenged him, asking how, if all physicality were removed, he would maintain his side of their bargain, a temporal realm for her to rule. He chided her for her folly in questioning him, and promptly rended her spirit and cast it into oblivion. One of his minions, Thorna Alinger, bolted from the room upset, and the other, Valdric, shakily said that he understood his master’s actions, and subsided into a chair.  Tarlov left the room to retrieve his errant shapeshifter.

The Undead-Lord sighed gustily, and commented that he had been with his former compatriot for a very long time...I replied that it had, yes, been almost six hundred years. With a look of surprise, he asked me how I could have known that. I replied that I was a scholar of history. He asked if in that case, I knew who he was. I replied that of course I was aware of his identity. He commented that I had the better of him, and asked if I would tell him about myself. I replied that the story was a very short one, some paltry 43 years.

He complemented me on my studies, to be so learned a historian at so young an age and asked if we could trade favors. I stared at him blankly, wondering what I had to offer for him. He stepped into the circle, and with a touch, invested me.  He told me that now I could leave at such time as seemed good to me. He said that he would not suggest leaving by the front gate. He asked me to carry a message to my friends, that he wished to speak with them.

A rescue party arrived, heralded by one of his undead. He greeted them and introduced himself as “Lord Valdric Dorsette, of the House Dorsette.”  Some small information was traded about the situation on the field, and the nature of the enemies that we fought, then we made our way quickly and quietly out of the back way and into the beginnings of the new dawn. The evening had been harsh, I found, with many resurrections, and a great deal of tension. After I was identified, I went home with my family to recharge for the new onslaught.

The next day, my compatriots and I spent much of the next day translating the portions of Tarlov’s Journal that were in his own hand. He had written them in ancient Kohari characters, as it was his native hand.

I am told that many small sortie groups were sent out during this time to retrieve the bottles of the pantherghast/hunter creatures. A unicorn was rescued and scrolls recovered which detailed the fashioning of the Amarth.  Its reconstruction was undertaken, along with the procurement of elemental essences to strengthen it, and prevent a repeat of the earlier breakage.

With the coming of darkness, the onslaught of Elementals, Undead and Hunter Creatures renewed all about the Healer’s Guild where plans were being laid for the ritual to bind and destroy Ghosthand. The battle was fierce and brutal, and small groups had to sneak out across enemy lines to continue to procure the things required in these plans. One such group came seeking the translation of the Diary. Another such group came seeking myself, to make use of my erstwhile investiture in the power circle in Tarlov’s lair, in hopes of more safely retrieving Tarlov’s High Horoscope, the cage of Stars and Hours mentioned in the Jodari Prophecy of Crowns.

The Horoscope was recovered through guerilla action, stealth, and speed. Lady Vannira of Quentari was left to guard our retreat, and hold Tarlov within a circle until such time as we were prepared to receive him. Still the battle outside the Guildhall raged on. When all things were in readiness, a small group was dispatched to apprise Lady Vannira of our situation, and we departed for the site of the Ritual of Binding and Destruction.

The Amarth was assembled quickly, and we awaited the arrival of the Ghosthand while repelling hordes of his undead minions from tampering with the oncoming ritual.

Almost an hour later, he arrived, and was admitted through the crowds, casting copious quantities of death magicks as he strolled through the crowd unchallenged. As Tarlov neared the circle, a Wolfen from Tyrangel, activated a delayed charm of Ogre Strength upon himself, and checked Tarlov from the rear, into the circle. The ritual was performed as planned and the Ghosthand was destroyed.