Journal of the Quest Against the Slittermask

After a surprisingly effective display of hilarity (from what I have since learnt was the god Loki), we arrived instantaneously upon an area of blasted heathland. Off in the distance, my eagle eye spied an imposing tower, surely that very same as in annals of Talor’s quest. At this monolith we knew some test awaited, although the areas of the manuscript containing the specifics of the challenge have succumbed to the ravages of time.

Following a testing ordeal at that accursed swamp, the party sensibly elected to rest for the night. After fitful periods of sleep we awoke and wasted no time in our advance on The Tower. Before we could reach its base we were accosted by a skeletal knight, who seemed altogether too pleased with our misfortune. This maniacal warden shepherded each of us through the tower in turn, wherein we faced a great psychological challenge. I cannot speak for the trials of the others and nor do I care to recall my own. Rest assured though, it took all my reserves of willpower and fortitude not to intervene and prevent this nightmarish phantasm from running its full course.

We all managed to temper our virtuous desires, excepting Vera the Red. She could not resist acting to save a subjugated female. Her simple pagan intellect failed to comprehend the fantastical nature of the tower and to divine the true nature of the test. She had been tainted by her failure, but the wise and compassionate Baron Tamar graciously permitted her to remain with the party and continue the trials.

With The Tower growing every smaller behind us, we slowly advanced. Eventually we came across a wholly accursed place. In the Village of Ghosts, unholy spirits clamber and press at every window pane and shriek unearthly things at passers by. I heard the telltale knock of knees from many of my compatriots, but the Baron and I stayed firm and true - providing inspiration to the rest of the party. In the centre of the village we came across a market, where we were granted a blissful reprieve from the incessant ghostly wailing. In the clearing stood 7 cottages, one of which appeared to have crumbled and decayed thanks to a long period of neglect. The women who stood in front of the remaining 6 homesteads were considerably more beguiling that ghosts, but also considerably more dangerous.

These were the servants of the mask! Pride, Greed, Envy, Wrath, Gluttony, and Sloth all stood before us; cooing, demanding, proffering, and threatening. Our senses were awash with luxurious evil and it took great courage for the healer Silkene to step forward and accept the first challenge. A woman of noble birth beckoned us through the cottage and on into a mystical realm. Here stood a quaint village, with many worthless peasants going about their monotonous daily chores. It transpired that a Great Power was on its way and that a festival must be prepared for his arrival.

This was a test of Pride and Humility. While Silkene went to converse with the village elder, there was much discussion as to how best approach the challenge. We knew from the ancient texts that one must strike a balance between the sin and the virtue. The group resolved to keep a beady eye on the headstrong young pagan, lest she become to enraptured with her own abilities. Before long, with some help from her allies, Silkene had devised a platter of local delicacies, arranged some musical entertainment, sourced the finest wine, and ordered the creation of an elegant broach and cloak. It was the latter that almost proved her undoing. The girl’s eye is easily turned by the figure of a healthy young male and she was often spotted canoodling with the cloak-maker. Although I did not witness anything untoward myself, Vera later revealed that Silkene had been on the verge of giving in to the temptations of the Slittermask - for it was her servant who had assumed the form of Silkene’s beau.

While the learned members of the party discussed the possibility of a dramatic arial display, the proles prepared the festivities. There were a number of interruptions from the Prideful spirit, but she provided only annoyance. Without a cloak and a number of other accouterment, we were a little concerned that we had not done enough to accurately represent all areas of the social strata. However, when the Mask’s servant appeared to announce the arrival of the great power, she surmised what had been laid on and declared that Silkene had passed. We were instantly transported back to the Village of Ghosts, just in time to witness her cottage crumble and decay before our very eyes.

Next to be tested was Vera the Red, at the hands of a golden-haired creature with a spiteful tongue. After a barbed interchange between the two females, we again ventured through a cottage and emerged at the fantastical village. This time it was less a picture of serene domesticity, more a horrible visage of destitution and despair. Rain and wind whipped the beaten dwellings and flooded the fields, killing everything and anything planted there. The greedy spirit gleefully revealed that food stocks were running dangerously low. Vera was commanded to keep the villagers alive for 30 days, being reminded that under no circumstances must she die herself.

The Baron, Sir Henry and I have been performing some calculations, but I fear I must stop writing. On the horizon some lookouts have spotted three warriors and there is some concern among the party that they are the same trio who we fought earlier on the quest. Those deadly Kingdom of War champions who mutilated Bellbois and tore Fenix limb from limb. The villagers appear to be on the precipice of a riot. I must leave.