As exhausted as I am, I am unable to rest at the moment. The stench of death fills this building, we have lost an ally, and I am uncertain of our safety in this room. I must chronicle this day before I meditate in case I never get the chance.
We have barred the door to a small room on the first floor of the Forlorn Tower, now known to be Temple Kaorti. The dilapidated four-story temple rests against the side of a cliff. The structure itself looks to be enough of a peril. We have already seen the power of the waterfall that rips through this building. There is literally nothing I like about this place.
Vaymeer and a few of his men led us safely to a trail which led to the tower. As smart as they were, they were still simple and superstitious, refusing to accompany us any further. As we climbed the treacherous cliff-side trail, we came upon the strewn bodies of Grimlocks. A few of these little monsters had become mutated and mangled. Four bodies rose by their innards and attacked us. Though several nearby ghouls wandered into the fight, we were able to dispose of these abominations with little effort.
I made my way to the side of the building to look around and assess any potential threats, joined by Alyana and Elwoz. I had not intended to venture further, but the allure of several peculiar statues and a large iron door captivated my two accomplices. Before I knew what was happening, the door was opened and we were in retreat from a flesh golem, sturge, and a mutated Dwarven assassin named Garren -- a Stormcrow. We struggled to dispose of these enemies, but ultimately prevailed. The Dwarf showed advanced stages of the same illness DuSaul and the Teifling musician were suffering. He was frantically accusing us of stealing the Tear of Ioun, a legendary treasure sacred to Ioun worshipers which became corrupted by the farrealm. Having completely lost his damned mind, he was impossible to reason with. We had to put him down. After the dust settled, I noticed we were one party member short.
Pushing further into the tower, we spotted the cleaned bones of the "legendary" Stovokor, or Balanos, or whatever. In a way, I am not surprised. He was not at all the valiant hero I had been led to believe. Though I am disappointed to have not spent more time with him, I do not mourn his passing, only the means of it. As a Deva, he has no doubt suffered death many times, but this must have been one of the more painful occurrences.
Lurking near his bones were several gricks which we defeated with relative ease, and what appeared to be a large glob of mucus, which caused much irritation.
As we explored further, we encountered another Stormcrow named Denva. She was, I'd say, midway between DuSaul and Garren in her transformation. Still somewhat aware, yet weakened and preoccupied. Accompanying her was an angry little grimlock, apparently under her control. Apparently her cooperation with us triggered a response in the little bastard, as he and several other hidden grimlocks attacked us. These monsters can't take much abuse, but they pack quite a punch.
After we dealt with them, we assured Denva that we would help her overcome her malady, and talked her into giving Talos her sword. She told us of a man named Claus, who, like Garren, is completely off his rocker. It seems these Stormcrows have gotten themselves into something they can't handle. It's up to us to put a stop to this.
It is unusual for me to be to pessimistic in these times, though these coming hours bring with them the stench of doom. There is great darkness in this building, and, according to Denva, greater horrors to face. May Corellon, Bahamut, Ioun, and whoever the hell feels obliged to assist, bless this party and protect us from what is to come.
May we meet again, Journal.
