To the realm at large and the adventurers headed for The Blasted Lands on the quest of The Sword of Sylvia, The scouting party has successfully reached the blasted lands and we are about to set off into the fetid wood where we will search for the ruins of the temple of The Sisters of Sylvia, there within we hope to find a map of the Catacombs of Karak, where legend says the Sword of Sylvia is to be found. You may have seen strange lights in the sky as we passed over the main group of adventurers traveling southeast towards the Blasted Lands over a week ago. We made a stop in Fletchings where we encountered a strange entity, that can only be described as a Shadow. Zio was able to dispatch it with a powerful light spell, but we were left unsettled to say the least. Apparently, these creatures can drain you of your life force in what sounds like a horrible fate. Be on the lookout for them. It seems that traveling with the lich has some unforeseen problems. His presence alone seems to draw undead to our position. We found this out when we landed on a rocky outcropping near the borders of the Blasted Lands. It seems to escalate the more we stay in one place, so we’ve had to keep on the move. We’ve picked up some of the bones, they seem to be marked with runes. Malakor has proven to be a storehouse of knowledge and so far has seemed to be holding up his part of the bargain. Tonight he told us more of Sylvia’s story and gave us a rousing performance of a poem that he must have read in one of his dusty tomes in that forbidden library in the temple he shares now with Geth. The tale of Sylvia as told by Malakor Lich She was born in the times just before the Cataclysm. Sylvia began her life in a monastery of an ancient and long forgotten Goddess, where she trained under her mother and the other priestesses to become a holy warrior. She had foreseen the fires that would soon split the world in her dreams and vowed to devote herself to fight evil and trained to become the strongest warrior of the realm. As horrid creatures and beasts rose from the depths of Osterra, Sylvia would seek them out and destroy them to free the world of their blight. However the years took their toll, the forces of evil were too great for even the greatest magi, warriors, and clerics of the time. While others ran, transferring to other planes when they saw that the evil would inevitably win, Sylvia made the ultimate sacrifice and performed a ritual in accordance with her goddess to make her sword and her soul one, creating a divine, holy weapon that she buried so it may be used if any goodly creatures survived in this realm. The ritual made the blade only able to be wielded by women, as Sylvia’s sect was comprised only of women. The blade has rested for eons, Sylvia’s soul still waiting to unleash its unbridled power onto evil forces that plague what is her realm. After this dissertation, we asked the lich where the sword could be found, and he replied with this verse. A temple in a Sunset Land I saw, rent with an evil wrath, earthquakes and storms of fire. The last of her order covered it with spells of awe, still the doom that fell upon the Sisters of Sylvia was dire. For they were protecting many an arch and ruinous portal there The place lies stored with the lore of a perished time; And unless the star stones yield the echoes of prayer; Then the crumbled towers shall avenge the Risa Fey’s crime. Within the shattered temple a map shall lie To find it you’ll need the shard of mystery that the pillars hide Magic strains of illumination make the shadows fly; Beams of light to cleanse the place of those that died Karak the faithful servant did see What the meandering river of time forbade On the trail of runes the bones are key. For they reveal where her sword is laid. When the moon smites us with her wands of white, the solemn may enter the Catacombs Karak hath made. Four times chime the Shard of Light, to see the gleam of Death’s annulling blade. We wanted to get word back to you before we entered the fetid forrest. You will know you are on the path after you cross the wasteland and find the great obelisk that marks this strange place. We will hold the other raven and send it if we are in trouble or when we find the ruins of the temple of The Sisters of Sylvia. K P.s. I almost forgot, our passage to The Blasted Lands did not go unnoticed, during part of our flight we were tracked by Azreonious, we seemed to have lost her, but she is probably also hot on our trail. ...or preparing an ambush for you. Oh yea, those undead we encountered caused strange wounds, even when healed they wept a horrible acidic puss, those wounded continue to be in my scrutiny...

War never changes. Even in this odd realm I've decided to call home, it still boils down to sad displays of faux bravado that cost good men and women their lives. I came to the Winter Council unaware of what was to come, and sure enough, it was pure chaos from the start. Grimbol, the charismatic if inexperienced leader of The Order, thought it wise to declare war on my guild over some supposed land disputes between our two factions. I was quite impressed with my fellow guild members' ability to maintain decorum. They even attempted to vie for peace between us, but unfortunately that fell on deaf ears. So be it, if The Order wanted a war, we would give them a war. And then Brennan happened.... Under the thrall of the amulet we had recovered, he announced that he had infected half of the people in attendance with a strain of the plague that Crowley had worked tirelessly to eradicate. Blinded by rage and the knowledge that I had been betrayed by one of my own comrades, I gave chase, determined to end his life. It's unclear who landed the final blow, but the point is Brennan is no longer under the control of the amulet, which is now safely under guard by the king's Sentinels and knights. As for Brennan? Well, death isn't permanent in Osterra, so he recovered. But for now he's in exile until he atones for the atrocity he committed. I hope he finds himself again....I want my friend back. As for the war itself? It was well done, if a bit underwhelming. Then again, I'm used to wars being waged by entire nations and empires. This certainly couldn't hold a candle to, say, one of Nilfgaard's many invasions. No, this was more like a series of skirmishes between two incredibly hostile barons. Despite having more men and being far more well armored, Black Sky's prowess in guerrilla warfare managed to help us come out on top. It seems that in Grimbol's arrogant posturing, he forgot that at heart we are warriors. And not just any warriors, but warriors with powerful allies. The last time I'd seen that many arrows flying was watching the Brokilon dryads decimate a group of Temerian soldiers stupid enough to end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Through our combined efforts, we managed to bring this stupid war to an end, with us as the victor. During the post-war proceedings, his majesty managed to surprise pretty much everyone by bestowing Brennan with the title of High Priest of Nova Regnus. A large honor to be sure, but I want to make sure he's in his right mind before he attempts to perform his Priestly duties. The biggest shock came in the form of Garon, our boisterous if mildly arrogant leader being bestowed with the title of Knight Errant. Honestly I'm proud of him. Perhaps this newfound responsibility will calm him a bit. One can only hope. I admit to feeling a bit of jealousy. I'm not one to clamor for the limelight, but a little recognition would be nice. As for myself? Well, it was certainly eventful for me as well. I met a newcomer to the realm, a rather gung-ho young man with the mind bendingly long title of Private Otto Lehmann of the Third Reikland Company. Lofty title aside, he seems like a good guy, though I don't know much about him as of yet. I'll have to speak with him further. I also joined the ranks of the Sentinels, an elite group of mages and healers that directly serve the king in all divine and arcane matters. This will be a good way to learn more about the magic of this world as well as keep my ear to the ground for anything that could aid us with any of the threats we face. The biggest surprise of my time at Council came in the form of Saava. Saava is an Osterran native who I briefly met when he worked as a bodyguard for the Black Caravan. Now he wanders Osterra as a sell sword, offering his prowess to whoever is willing to pay. His immense strength proved to be a game changer during the war, and his services were worth every gold paid to him. I worry about his mindset though. He told me of the things that Orzalon had done to him and his family, and of how he is now driven almost purely by revenge. This drive for vengeance led him to discovering what I am. My kind have always been secretive when it comes to how we are made the way we are, and for him to discover it on his own is nothing short of astonishing. However, that is only topped by the proposition he made to me. He wants to subject himself to the same Trials that I was subjected to. I told him of the risks, of how only three out of ten survive, but he remains unswayed. It seems that the deathless nature of Osterra has led him to believe this will help him hunt down Orzalon. I disagree, but I will train him regardless. I want to harness the rage within him and hone him into a viper much like me. For now, I wait for word from Corrin and the rest of the scouting party so that we may make our way to the Blasted Lands in order to find a legendary sword that will potentially aid us in our demon hunt. This world and its people will continue to fascinate me. I only hope I may be the defender they need.

The secret is holy weapons. Apparently the plagues of Festar hit Nova Regnus harder than we believed, and it was only with a healing amulet that their spread was controlled after Festar’s death. A pair of holy weapons were used in the battle against Festar, allegedly the weakest of Orzalon’s lieutenants on the battlefield. One belongs to a warrior from Grimfrost by the name of Uldren. Where the other lies, I am unsure. A third-the one I wielded for a moment-was discovered by Siegfried in the Illithid’s shelter. I should be relieved. They can be killed as I suspected, and the power to do so lies with the people of Osterra. And yet, this brings me neither peace nor joy. I still see him when I shut my eyes. Sleep remains elusive and I often wake in shakes, clutching whatever weapon lay within my reach. So long as he lives, the scars he gave me open in my nightmares. I dare not think long on what Luima experiences now. Poor sister. As the feast drew to a close, I did find one additional possibility. The lore keeper of Black Sky, Artorias, is not the man he seems. He is a mutant, a monster hunter in his old world. He told me that witchers, as they are known, are mutated by alchemic formulae to better slay their quarry. They have enhanced strength and speed as well as heightened senses. Should he acquiesce, I hope to undergo the same mutation as he and his fellows. He insists that the process is too dangerous, but Osterra is not his home. I will die as many times as I must to kill Orzalon. No risk is so great I would avoid it in my pursuit of his punishment.