Necromancer's Journal

Back at camp, the party battled the necromancer's journal itself—decoding its shifting wards, parleying with the bound Shadar-kai spirit Trogeth, and learning of other failed Shadowfell portals and the Shadar-kai's tragic curse. After surviving a brutal, reality-warping "test of strength" conjured from the book, they emerged shaken but alive, rewarded with hard-won knowledge and two precious scrolls of revivify.

Recap

The return from the mountains was quiet - but not peaceful.

Madam Helena, Thalen, and Kouzlo descended from the #7 Mountains as the sun sank low, staining the sky purple and gold. The path itself seemed to widen for them, stone and slope yielding as though the mountain recognized them as something more than trespassers. Moon corn shimmered as they passed, its pale blooms beginning to open in anticipation of night.

Helena walked slightly apart from the others, sunburnt and withdrawn, still processing the attention of the hag Grit - and the unsettling certainty that the Hermit card she had drawn there had not been coincidence, but intervention. She was eager to return to camp, to read the cards for herself, to understand what threads were tightening around her fate.

Kouzlo, meanwhile, was already elsewhere in his mind - dreaming not of portals or necromancers, but of towers. A wizard’s tower. His own, one day, rising somewhere in the Wildermarch.

Thalen, by contrast, was vibrating with excitement. His cartographer’s case was heavier with maps, his confidence buoyed by a successful expedition. He was already rehearsing the story he intended to tell.

At the outpost, Aldric and The Last Shadow stood watch along the wall when Thalen came barreling in.

“MR SHADOW. MR SHADOW. LOOK WHAT I GOT.”

What followed was an enthusiastic - and heavily embellished - retelling of mountain exploits, complete with updated maps and heroic framing. Shadow listened without interruption, offering nothing but quiet encouragement. Aldric, nearby, issued a subdued apology for the volcanic consequences of their last shared outing. Madam Helena later drew the Ace of Cups - taking it as a sign that some wounds, at least, could begin to heal.

As dusk settled, plans took shape. A framework for a new library wing was raised for Jorath - two posts, a carved sign, an owl motif waiting patiently for its intended resident. Yet attention inevitably returned to the journal.

It lay on the table between them, chained shut - but Aldric’s Divine Sense revealed the truth: the chains were symbolic. Whatever bound the book was deeper, darker. Not a creature, but a presence - one that seemed to subtly push away from scrutiny.

That was when Coralia arrived.

She emerged from the shoreline, salt and coral clinging faintly to her form, and immediately recognized the danger. At the mention of necromancers - and worse, their presence in the Shadowfell - her alarm was unmistakable. These were not cultists, she confirmed. Different magic. Different intent.

When asked about the bird emblazoned on the journal’s cover, she raised an eyebrow.

“There are many birds in the Wildermarch,” she said dryly, “but none as proud as the seagull.”

It was not a seagull.

Kouzlo cast Identify. Madam Helena watched closely, her instincts screaming. As Kouzlo focused, the chains on the book began to rise, straining against invisible restraints. Helena yanked his arm away just in time. The magic within the binding was alive - layered arcane locks woven directly into the journal itself.

Determined, Helena warded herself against extraplanar influence and cast Dispel Magic. The ink on the cover liquefied, then evaporated into mist. Sweat beaded on her brow as the chains disintegrated and the book shuddered open. The script inside shifted constantly - Dwarven dissolving into nonsense, then runes, then something else entirely.

Thalen recognized fragments of an ancient Dwarven dialect - a ward, removable with enough understanding.

Kouzlo touched the page. It did not resist.

With Comprehend Languages - and Helena’s protection passed to him - the text finally stabilized long enough to read a phrase that echoed through the camp:

“Return to Trogeth.”

As the second seal broke, a voice spoke from the book itself - cold, sharp, and accusing. A Shadar-kai presence, aware but blind, furious at words being stolen by the living. Madam Helena’s attempt to probe its thoughts was rebuffed outright.

Mention of the Raven Queen drew a warning - but Kouzlo did not relent.

Tests followed. Riddles, ancient and exacting. Each answered in turn. With the final success, green mist poured from the pages and coalesced into a gaunt, spectral Shadar-kai - Trogeth himself, bound to his journal.

Through a limited communion, the truth emerged:

• The Shadar-kai are cursed to the Shadowfell, seeking escape above all else.
• Two other portals had been attempted before the Great Tree - the Mushroom and the Pine - each abandoned due to their dangers.
• Their devotion to the Raven Queen was born not of malice, but of exile and erasure. Once a Fey queen, she ascended, was condemned, and cast from memory - now ruling a Fortress of Memories, desperate to be remembered.
• The Cult of Whispering Stars thins the veil unknowingly, aiding the Shadar-kai’s long struggle. The Material Plane is merely a stepping stone.

When asked what the party should do to succeed where they failed, Trogeth’s answer was chillingly simple.

Thin the veil further.

Then the book demanded one final proof.

“A test of the arm.” Combat erupted in the heart of camp.

Shadows, undead swarms, and nightmare-black unicorns surged from the journal’s smoke. Thalen’s arrows struck with impossible precision, obliterating foes before they fully formed. Shadow waded into writhing undead spirits, fists numbing with cold as he realized - unsettlingly - that these creatures moved through darkness as naturally as he did. Perhaps more so.

A Death Slad tore itself free of the earth, shrugging off blows and retaliating with necrotic force. Madam Helena’s radiant guardians burned through swaths of undead as Kouzlo barely evaded counterspells and chaos.

And then - the Slad cast Fireball.

The camp was engulfed. Flames roared. Aldric and Kouzlo fell. Helena barely remained standing as the monsters collapsed back into smoke, drawn once more into the book.

From beneath the table, a whisper:

“A test of strength… passed. One remains. A test of the heart.”

The journal spilled open. Two spell scrolls lay before Madam Helena.

Revivify.

The world lurched.

Suddenly, the party sat around a table once more. Coralia was there - shaking them, shouting, dragging them back to awareness. Aldric and Kouzlo lived. The camp still stood, scarred but intact.

Whether the battle had been real, or something imposed upon them, remained unclear.

In the Shadowfell, perception is reality.

The scrolls, however, remained.

Key Takeaways

• The necromancer’s journal belonged to Trogeth, a Shadar-kai bound to his own tome.
• Two additional portal attempts exist: the Mushroom and the Pine.
• The Shadar-kai seek escape from the Shadowfell at any cost; the Material Plane is a means, not a destination.
• The Raven Queen was once a Fey queen, cast from memory after ascending - now ruling the Fortress of Memories.
• The Cult of Whispering Stars unknowingly aids the thinning of planar boundaries.
• Reality within Shadowfell influence is mutable; trials may be psychological, physical, or both.

Loot & Rewards

• Journal of Trogeth (partially unsealed; contains riddles and detailed knowledge of additional portal sites)
• 2 Scroll of Revivify
  • This spell will only persist in scroll form in the Material Plane.