The Journal of Lucan Wolf-Brother

Lucan gasped and sank to the floor as the infernal venom burned in his veins. He tried to rise, but found he couldn't. It was then that he knew the truth: he had never fully recovered from the infection of the were-rat's bite, and his body was not strong enough to fight the poison. He would die in less than a minute.

Through blurring vision Lucan observed the battle around him. It did not look good for the pack; most of them were on the ground from their wounds. Then Lucan caught sight of Nolan lurking in the shadows, preparing an ambush for their foe. If anyone could still defeat the witch in spite of the odds, it was the wily halfling. If only Lucan could cast one last spell to aid him...

Suddenly Lucan found himself surrounded by a pack of wolves. Their forms were more solid and less spectral than he could remember them being, but he recognized his spirit pack. One by one they began to howl, and he heard the voice of pack-leader Sharu in his mind. It is too late; they are beyond your aid now. Come, Wolf Brother, run with us one last time, as we escort you to your destination.

So many scents lay on the wind. Blood, fire, fear, all underneath the smell of the hot tar still clinging to his fur. The wolf focused through the confusion and pain and saw that all the members of his pack were still standing. This was good; even better was that the prey had fallen for their lure and was approaching. The big human was speaking; in a distant corner of the wolf's mind Lucan took note of Curthain's words, while the wolf began a low growl. The time was here, and their hunt would soon be at an end.

Lucan suppressed a sudden sense of displeasure when he saw that his companions were looting the ancient eladrin treasures.

No, do not be a hypocrite. You are no less desperate for coin than they, now that you dwell in the human realm. Besides, the needs of the pack must be looked to before all else.

Done chastising himself, Lucan studied the map of Dal Nystiere and answered Curthain's question. "These ruins are quite large; it would take us long to search them all. I suggest we get word back to Eriyel that we have slain her foe."

Lucan eyed the vial of dragon's blood, trying to judge how much was left. "I believe we will be able to use any of the standing stones scattered throughout the area to return here. We can continue our search for the ring at a later time. First, though, we must determine if we can use the portals to leave without suffering the same fate as that unfortunate kobold."

My thoughts keep returning to our time in the gray lands, the world-between-worlds.

Who was the halfling woman who brought us there, and who was the man in the mausoleum? I overheard some of his conversation with Ryner and Curthain as I fought to prevent Nolan from dying in that green-forsaken place. Could he be the dark man the small-folk warned me about? Is he the source of rot in this city? Why did he have the human child? Why was he there, and why were the shadow beasts and gray men of that realm defending him from us?

We all could have died there... Segrath did die, and now the heavens themselves are pouring out their grief for his sacrifice. I never thought I would participate in a life-sharing ritual with a dragonborn, or mourn the passing of one. Yet he and Ryner have proven their worth; they are more than the beasts my people see them as. I hope his soul finds rest, even as his body is laboring for Wyleredar, Ruler of the Dead.

Enough; I must turn my thoughts from the past to survival in the present day. Jeshela and I are still in the alienage, and we are little closer to paying off her debt. Perhaps it was foolish of me to volunteer to take this task on, yet I could not bear to see one as beautiful as herself exploited by the humans. I only hope I can protect her from the degradations of this city.

I can hear Sharu, my sprit-brother, howling, calling me to run free with his pack. But I am bound by stone and metal and human laws.

I came to this city to seek a way to live in harmony with the humans. Unlike Eldor, Cosdol was supposed to have rejected the ways of the past Betrayers, and embraced the elven ways. And yet, what do I encounter here? Elves forced to live in degradation and poverty, rampant crime and violence against non-humans, arsonists causing destruction and misery with unnatural fire, and diseased haflings used as pawns.

Although I am grateful I can still count on the aid of my spirit-brother and his pack, I will need the support of a pack of flesh and blood to survive in this place. And it seems my best option is those who currently share my cell. None of them are Brandobian; the only human is a follower of the Old Ways, from before the Betrayal. The dragonborn, the beasts-who-have-raised-themselves, have long been our enemies in past days, but they are still preferable to the Brandobians in my eyes, and these two seem trustworthy enough. I am wary of one who has voluntarily bound himself to unnatural service, but Ryner has shown compassion for the dispossessed children of this city, human and elven alike, and so I will place my trust in him.

I do not know if we will see the impetuous Nolan again, but if he or someone else does not bring aid soon, I will ask my new pack to aid me in bringing an end to this captivity, by any means necessary.

As surely as the filth fever poisoning my veins from the rat's bite, this city itself is diseased, whether by a curse from the Rotlord or some other source. And the disease must be purged.