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Cain's Journal

4,247 bytes added, 14:34, 28 October 2008
15th day of Jeshasan
1st day of Damhas
Can the old stories be true - can the tales of the brave Horadrim and the Lords of the Burning Hells be more than a legend, a fairytale told to me by my mother?
I used to thrive on those tales of bravery and heroism. I'd imagine myself as one of them: the mysterious Horadrim led by the inscrutable Tal Rasha! I was so proud to be the "Last of the Horadrim", the one who would travel the world fighting evil wherever it dwelt. Ah, the boundless energy of youth.
Could there be some basis in truth to all these tales? The signs all point to this but how is someone with my education, my knowledge, to take these tales seriously?
Is there really some dark entity buried beneath our own town? If only my aging mind could remember the tales as vividly as I did in my younger days.
 
 
 
12th day of Damhas
 
I am a fool. If I had acted sooner, if I had voiced my concerns, they would not be dead; Farnham would not be the drunken sot he now is. Lazarus, supposed Archbishop of Light, has lured a group of villagers to their horrific end under the guise of searching for the king's missing son. Is he the architect of the evil that has befallen the town, or simply an unwitting pawn?
 
The nights are long, and as I sit and listen to the hellish drones emanating from the cathedral, I begin to see my path clearly before me. I shall return to the texts. There must be an answer, a way to defeat this evil that torments us.
 
 
20th day of Damhas
Each new terror sens more townspeople fleeing. There are only a few of us left now: Griswold, Pepin, Ogden, Farnham, the unfortunate Wirt, and, of course, the fair Gillian. There is someone else, however: someone who has come, while others flee. I am not so sure what to make of this Adria, who openly calls herself witch. She has access to all manner of arcane knowledge that even I do not. Why has she come here now, at this heinous time? I feel there is something amiss about her.
 
 
27th day of Damhas
Every dawn seems to bring more adventurers into our midst. But none who can yet be called hero. I bide my time and continue scouring the old texts for answers. If only I had taken them more seriously, not dismissed them so lightly!
 
 
1st day of Ratham
Finally one of these asventurers seem to stand out from the rest. Though a man of few words, he radiates a calm and focus that unnerve the others, who are only interested in pillaging and looting. I feel I have come to know this hero, this wanderer. I have revealed my history and shared my knowledge with him. I hope it is enough.
 
 
21st day of Ratham
I have suspected for a time now the true nature of the evil that us at the heart of our troubles, but it was too horrible to admit the truth of it. But the time for denial is past: it is the Dark Lord of Terror, Diablo himself, who plagues us.
 
The vile staff of Lazarus was brought to me today, further confirming my suspicions. There is no longer any doubt that he is the one who kidnapped Albrecht and perhaps even freed Diablo from his ancient prison. Who knows what further treachery he has planned? Luckily I suspect Lazarus has not long to live if our champion has anything to say on it.
 
 
6th day of Evunas
I dreamt of the death wail of a small child tonight. It tore up from the depths, shattering the windows of the decrepit cathedral. As I started awake, it became apparent that it was actually the shriek of Diablo's tortured end. Unable to return to sleep after such an unsettling cry, I ventured outdoord to await the warrior's return. He finally emerged, covered in blood - much his own, much his enemies'. I am greatly relieved that he survived the ordeal, and that these horrible events are now in our past. But my mind is troubled, for could this not have been avoided id I had not dismissed my legacy so lightly?
 
 
18th day of Evunas
I have never seen Tristram bursting with such joy as in the weeks since Diablo's defeat. The town's quiet, brooding hero, whom I am proud to call friend, has humbly endured these celebrations. Yet it seems clear to me that the scars he gained beneath the church run deeper than those upon his skin and may have changed him forever. I have offered counsel, but he remains distant. Time, perhaps, is the only thing that may heal him.
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