After-Action Report (Session 13)

Location: N.O.D.E. Outpost, Wildermarch Frontier

Date: Year One of the March

Subject: Decoding of Shadowfell Necromancer’s Journal, Shadar-kai Contact, and Reality-Instability Event at Camp

I submit this report with the understanding that not all events herein can be verified as strictly physical in nature. That distinction may no longer be useful.

The journal recovered beneath the Great Tree was not inert. It was patient.

Return and Reassembly

The mountain party returned at dusk. The outpost greeted them as it has learned to - quietly, without celebration, with the watch already alert. Progress has made us cautious rather than comfortable. That is as it should be.

I was on the wall with Shadow when they arrived. Thalen’s enthusiasm preceded him by several yards. He spoke quickly, loudly, and with notable embellishment. Shadow listened as he always does - without judgment, without correction. There is strength in that restraint. I am still learning it.

I issued an apology for the volcanic incident. It was accepted without comment. I did not expect absolution, nor do I require it.

I note here that Madam Helena appeared withdrawn on return. Sunburned. Preoccupied. Whatever occurred in the mountains has not finished with her yet.

Before night fully fell, I began construction on the library framework. This was not a request made of me. It was necessary.

Jorath has given this camp knowledge freely - maps, theory, warnings, translation, counsel. When my failure placed him in harm’s way, words were insufficient currency. Labor is honest. Structure is penance that benefits more than the penitent.

Two posts were set. A sign carved. Space left for his mark when - and only when - he chooses to place it.

I drew the Ace of Cups during the evening reading. I do not pretend expertise in Madam Helena’s art, but I understand beginnings. I intend this one to be earned.

Assessment of the Journal

The necromancer’s journal was placed on the central table. It resisted presence as much as inspection. My Divine Sense detected no creature bound within - but something pressed back regardless. This was not warding meant to defend. It was warding meant to discourage.

Coralia arrived from the shoreline shortly thereafter. Her concern was immediate and specific. The necromancers beneath the Tree were not cultists. Their magic was older. More deliberate. Shadowfell-born.

When Kouzlo attempted identification magic, the journal responded with hostility. Chains rose of their own accord. Madam Helena intervened without hesitation. I record this plainly: her instincts were correct, and her timing prevented injury.

Further dispelling revealed the truth of the journal’s construction. The locks were not applied to the book. They were woven into it. To open the journal was to negotiate, not unlock.

I maintained readiness but did not interfere. This was not a problem a blade could solve.

Trogeth

Through layered magic, riddles, and no small measure of risk, the party drew forth the soul bound within the tome: Trogeth, a Shadar-kai necromancer.

He spoke without joy. Without triumph. Without even anger. Only longing.

Key points from the exchange are as follows:

• The Shadar-kai are bound to the Shadowfell by ancient curse. Escape - not conquest - is their primary objective.
• Two prior portal attempts were made before the Great Tree: locations referred to only as the Mushroom and the Pine. Both were abandoned.
• Their devotion to the Raven Queen is not zealotry but inheritance. She was once Fey, ascended, condemned, and erased from memory. They followed her into exile.
• The Cult of Whispering Stars thins the veil between worlds unknowingly. Their rituals serve causes they do not comprehend.

When asked what would succeed where the Shadar-kai failed, Trogeth answered plainly:

Thin the veil further.

I do not believe this was manipulation. I believe it was statement of fact.

That does not make it acceptable.

Trial by Combat

The journal demanded proof of strength.

I will state this clearly for record: whatever followed was real enough to kill us.

Undead manifestations erupted across the camp - shades, swarms, nightmare beasts resembling horned horses wrought of shadow. A Death Slad emerged from the ground itself, fully capable of spellcasting and sustained combat.

The party responded immediately and effectively. Thalen’s marksmanship was decisive. Madam Helena’s radiant magic prevented encirclement. Shadow engaged multiple undead entities alone, displaying resilience but also… hesitation.

I note this not as criticism. These creatures moved through shadow as he does. I believe he recognized something of himself in them - and did not like what he saw.

I summoned Luminor. The Slad focused its efforts on me. I held.

Then it cast Fireball.

The blast incapacitated Kouzlo and myself outright. Madam Helena remained standing by margins too small to be considered chance.

I recall heat. Pressure. Then nothing.

The Test of the Heart

When awareness returned, I was seated at the table. The camp was scarred but standing. Coralia was present, attempting to rouse us.

Between us lay two scrolls of Revivify.

Madam Helena later reported that the book declared the trial complete. That the final test - the heart - had been passed.

I cannot conclusively state whether the combat occurred fully in the Material Plane or was imposed upon us through Shadowfell perception. I am no longer certain the distinction matters.

What does matter is this:

The scrolls remain.

They will not transcribe. They will not become spells known. They persist only as potential - limited, fragile, finite.

The Shadowfell does not give gifts without expecting a reckoning.

Final Assessment

This engagement confirms several concerns:

• The boundary between planes can be tested without immediate collapse.
• Shadowfell entities understand our world’s weaknesses better than we do.
• Moral certainty is not protection against manipulation - but it is resistance.

I am increasingly convinced that our enemies do not seek dominion in the conventional sense. They seek passage. We are terrain, not targets.

I am also forced to confront an uncomfortable truth:

My failures echo longer than my victories.

Jorath’s blood was on my hands once. I will not allow my inattention to place others in that position again - whether by spell, shadow, or suggestion.

The library will be finished.

The journal will be secured.

And the next time something asks us to thin the veil, I intend to be ready with an answer that does not involve compliance.

By Tyr’s scales, I will not mistake endurance for righteousness. Nor mercy for weakness.