\--==Official Submission==-- FROM: General Debinani Rahl RE: Chapter Seven - Six Days, Seven Nights, and Five Centuries Ago... The Book of Rahl - Chapter Seven \-Six days, seven nights, and five centuries ago..... Autumn found The Society in the employ of The Paladins of Trinsic, covering merchant escort duties, the training of their men, as well as the occasional raid on the Shadowclan. Rutger Dag was as good a boss as any, and was pretty good about not forcing us into trouble we didn't want, but some of the men were uncomfortable about working for someone so devoted to British. Quite frankly, British hasn't been seen in public for so long, it really didn't matter to me either way. Myca and Kamir are riddling me less and less of late. It would appear that they were backed up to the palisade tower and vaulted into the ocean to be caught by a fisherman days later. Their unnerving undead condition is attributed to other matters that happened later in their lives, and neither one of them is talking about it. They don't seem to bear anyone any ill will, quite the opposite in the case of Lieutenant Shade, whom they've grown quite fond of riddling, most likely due to their common Warder ground. Last week we finally got a bit of a morale boost, as The Society held out nearly single-handedly against the Shadowclan in a daring operation to retake the Yew Southern Guardpost during the Clan WarBoss challenge. The army showed up a bit too late to save most of our number from uncomfortable and unnerving deaths, but we took the day, and I suppose that's all that matters. Also last week, things began to happen. Myca and Kamir both began to age considerably, their roughly middle-aged features becoming twisted with old age. Myca actually lost the use of his eyes. Everyone was in a bit of a huff trying to figure out what was going on when it started happening to me. Over the course of three days I probably aged four decades, and I perfected a potion to slow the process just before my hands gave out to arthritis. I was aging fast, neither one of the three of us could hold out much longer, and then weird things started happening. I began to receive reports about a ghost appearing at Kent's Pint and disturbing Myca greatly. The ghost didn't seem to be behind what was going on, however he seemed to know who was and wasn't talking. The spirit was later identified as Valdimar Morwyn, Lance Corporal of the Warders and one of the five of us that survived the slaughter at Yew. It seemed the spirit would appear, drop clues and quite a lot of guilt about Myca leaving him and Cedric behind in Cove, and then vanishing, not to be seen for days at a time. A short while later, reports of Cedric appearing began to trickle in. It would seem that these two have spent the last five centuries trying to find the old Warders and have finally caught their query. Too convenient I'd say. Their appearance coincided almost exactly with the unnatural aging. As I was laying in my bed one night, trying desperately to keep the chill from my bones, Cedric appeared to me. The poor fool was far beyond mad, but he had a moment of lucidity long enough to offer me temporary relief from my condition in exchange for clarity of thought. I agreed. I can't remember much of what transpired while Cedric and I were joined, it was all quite a blur. However, I will try to recap to you the events that took place from the reports I was given from my men. Apparently, I was witness to Valdimar's final demise at the hands of a little peasant- man. The fellow found Valdimar and just made him... disintegrate somehow. I've never known any magic that can destroy a spirit, but apparently his could. It was also during this time that I speculated Lord Daithomir could be the culprit behind the aging. He was the one who set The Society up in the first place, it would only be logical that he had somehow survived all this time in an attempt to finish the job. My clarity of thought returned to me the next day and I found myself sitting in the Pint with a dirty, bad-toothed little peasant man trying to pick my pocket. I swatted him away and he grinned like there was no tomorrow. I had no idea at the time what had just happened. Cedric was gone...forever. So, thus began the search for Daithomir. Our health was degrading badly as the days wore on and the men were losing hope of finding a solution. Then the ultimatum came: I must say, I do find this all terribly amusing. To think that for over five centuries I was led to believe the Black Rose had been crushed. Naughty little soldiers, you should die when you're told... The rest of you children are none of my concern, my masters will deal with you in their time. However I'm owed by Master Sergeant Vodyanoy, Corporal Sang, and Private Rahl...and I'm owed more than any of you can imagine. My servants have seen to it that the spirits of Valdimar and Cedric are gone, and now all that's left is for me to collect the three of you. I'll make you an offer. You three turn yourselves in to me, and I will see to it that your respective little organizations are spared the purging that's coming to the Empire. If not, things will become quite dire for you indeed. I await your response. \-Lord Daithomir Terellian of the Ring We tried for several days to come up with a solution on our own, but all roads led to Daithomir, and there was no way of finding the worm unless one of us went to him. This was my response (annotated for dramatis purposa. The door to Kent's Last Pint swings ponderously open and an ancient man in green robes hobbles in, supporting himself on his staff. He limps across the floor to the far side of the tavern, suppressing a cough that sounds more of blood than air. He reaches up and dips a quill in the inkpot by the sheet of parchment and begins to write: "Lord Daithomir; I find it remarkably ironic that you choose the fifth centennial of The Society's defeat at Cove to make your ultimatum to the last few of us who slipped through your fingers. Nevertheless, the enchantment that you have used to hold sway over my body is as thorough as the trap you laid for us those many years ago. So it is with the taste of bile on my lips that I say the following: I surrender. I will meet your emissary and will then willingly surrender myself into your custody at the appointed hour and place. \-Debinani Rahl" The old man tries to loose the clasp of the insignia of his office, but the wear of a hundred marches and the blood of a thousand battles holds the clasp tighter than the aged, arthritic fingers have the strength to loosen. A woman's fingers deftly and gently help the man remove his badge of office and the old man looks into the eyes of a peasant barmaid, the same woman he would dance with when the fancy took him not weeks before. He folds the woman's fingers over the pin, holds the woman's eyes for one last michevious wink, and hobbles out into the cold. Now, I've never been one for tucking tail and giving up, and I'm sure Daithomir knew it too, so I came up with a little plan to catch our estranged megalomaniac. I will get to that in a moment. The night before I turned myself in to Daithomir, I met with Kim of Moonglow, Commander of the Winterfell Outriders' Black Hand. She informed me that the situation between her kingdom and that of the Highland Sosarians was swiftly degrading, and asked if The Society would stand on alert in case of an attack on Cove. I agreed. About the same time, intelligence reports that Daithomir had sent his emissaries to the Sosarian Socialist Party, requesting protection aid against the inevitable retribution that The Society would dole out upon my untimely death. After a swift and inspiring socio-political retort from Shade, they opted not to aid Daithomir. I still have to thank Zhang for sticking to his guns. The day finally came, and I turned myself over to Daithomir after a short staff meeting with some of my men. That night and following day were grueling. He tortured me and asked me about all sorts of information that couldn't have been of any importance to anyone except to facilitate torture. During the process I managed to plant my com crystal on Daithomir's person. At which point I decided to give up. I had done my purpose, my battered old, and remarkably weak ancient body was giving out. To be completely honest, I truly didn't expect to survive any longer than Daithomir's entertainment at my torture. I was wrong. Someone else needed entertainment as well. Daithomir handed me over to Sylus Wormtongue, who turned out to be some sort of Eater- of-Souls, a quite mythical creature known to sustain itself on the pain , suffering, and guilt of other men's souls. As it turned out, Myca, Kamir, and myself were considered fine delicacies among the Soul Eaters; old, guilt-ridden, black of heart and spirit, et cetera, ad nauseum. Wormtongue hauled me to the dungeons contained within the ancient fortress of Deceit and decided to torture me a bit more. I had thought I had given up, but about the point when he put me in the Maiden, the animal instinct in me finally snapped and decided that today was not a good day to die, nor was any other day for that matter. I summoned a small amount of energy and seared off the latch on the maiden, burst out, yanked the bag of regeants off of Wormtongue on my way by, stumbled into a cell and cast my way out blind. Luckily enough, I ended up in the naked and bloodied in the snow just a short distance from the Society's primary forge. I dug up my spare key, ran inside, and hollered into the first communication crystal I could find that Wormtongue was at the door. And he was. A few moments later the door burst open and he came for me. I was far too weak and injured to struggle. I remember nothing else until I awoke amongst friends. From the reports I've received, events unfolded as follows. A few of the men, as well as Myca (and later, Kim of Moonglow) were convened at the Pint. Shade's crystal, modified to track mine, pointed them to Moonglow, where Daithomir was busy studying the stars or something equally trivial. After a brief, and I'm sure scintillating, discourse, they killed him, got his ring and amulet, and proceeded on a hunch to try to find me. They arrived in Deceit, where Sandoval found traces of my bloody rebellion. Then they received my call from the Smithy, they arrived to find Wormtongue and a rather disturbed-looking crystal ball. He groveled for a moment, gave them a moment of indecision regarding his current sanity, grabbed the crystal ball, and somehow managed to bolt past five armed warriors and out into the snowy wastes. He was chased all the way to the Shrine of Honesty, which didn't seem to like Eaters-of-Souls very much, as the poor fool caught fire. He refused to tell Shade how to release me from the crystal ball and then attacked him in a rage. Shade and Aragos finished him off. They returned to the forge to find me naked, old, and unconscious on the floor. They roused me, gave me the amulet and I recovered my age swiftly. While I was getting dressed and my bearings, something passed between Shade and Myca, the details of which I am still uncertain of. Aragos decided to drop a bomb on my and say the ghost of Turon had appeared to him and Galanon the night before and had intimated that he was my father. I went outside to have a drink and reevaluate my world-view. When I returned, Myca combined the shards of the crystal ball of my prison and the amulet. The results were uncomfortably satisfying. Everything shook as the sound of three-thousand odd men marching echoed across the wastes. Turon made an appearance and told everyone he was proud, and that now the old Society may rest. Everyone was remarkably pleased with themselves, yet understandably introspective. We convened once more at the Pint and had our fill. Just today another message arrived: I must say, that was a \*very\* entertaining performance. Tell me, did the pig squeal before you stuck him? Somehow I doubt even that fool Daithomir could have been brash enough to give anything away. Pity really, I was hoping to continue our game. You've caught the attention of The Beast, little Roses. Shame on us, and pity for you... I for one remember where you came from. You better act fast before someone else does.... \-Lord Spirit of Tablenhelm Ringwielder This message is disturbing for a number of reasons. We knew there were four other Ringwielder's out there, but we had no idea that Dailthomir was the youngest and most foolish of the bunch. I also didn't expect the retribution of his brethren to come so soon. And probably the most unnerving and curious of all..."Lord Spirit of Tablenhelm"......Tablenhelm.....is he using the title to play some sort of game? Or is this fellow really a remnant from the age of legends. Someone who may actually know the origins of The Society as he claims to would definitely know of the ancient city. And he seems to think The Society's past is not something that others should find out about...very curious. Many questions have risen from the answers we found for ourselves. I have complete confidence that we can answer these as well.