Scroll with "Museum Property" Stamp

Item · 1 gp · Weight 0

"The Newfound Sanctuary was a beacon of faith for anyone who found themselves lost in these grim lands. Crusaders, merchants, travelers, and common people were all welcome there for a prayer to any god who would listen to them, for a night's rest and a safe haven if needed. Perhaps this is why the demons attacked the Newfound Sanctuary the way they did. The sun didn't rise that morning. We hadn't known what was going on until it was too late: a cloud of filthy dark smoke engulfed the fortress. We couldn't see, we couldn't breathe. A famous mage named Zacharius was the fortress warden at that time; he understood that it was the beginning of an onslaught and sounded the alarm. Then the fire came. The arcane fire rained down from the sky, the fire that stuck to any surface it touched, the fire that no amount of water would put down. And finally the scream went up. It was the sound of a thousand howling demons coming for our souls. The gates of the fortress fell immediately, but the crusaders did not. Their bodies proved stronger than wood and iron: the demon army's front edge got stuck in the living wall they created, and they bought us some time with their own lives. Zacharius himself left his quarters to fight alongside the rest. His spells struck down the giants who were slinging balls of fire at us, one after another, and for a few minutes we thought that there was still hope. It was their unholy word that ruined it all. An especially tall and disgusting demon stepped out of their army's ranks. He carried an enormous bronze horn fully covered with faces — fleshy human faces, still alive and screaming — that they had cut off and put on this horrendous thing. The demon raised the horn to his mouth and blew; the faces wailed in unison. He kept blowing until his chest split, splaying his ribs out wide — and the horn cracked, too, unable to withstand such cursed power. His task was complete, though: an unbearable wave of horrific sound engulfed us, and not a single person could stand tall and keep their conscience when they heard it. The unholy word left the Newfound Sanctuary empty and littered with bodies. The demons cried and rushed in, but that was a mistake they'd regret very soon. Yes, we were wounded, terrified, injured, and deafened… But we weren't broken yet. We waited for them to pour into the inner yard and jumped back to our feet! We feigned death until they turned their backs on us, and then we attacked! We killed them and fell back to lie among our fallen brothers and sisters, playing out another act of this dreadful stage show! We built barricades from the dead bodies of our fellows in arms and used them to strike the enemies down unseen! We took the demons by the throat, bent their spiked backs, and drowned them in our own blood. Eventually the screams of the invaders whom we resisted died down. The Newfound Sanctuary chewed up and swallowed everyone stupid enough to enter it, and the remaining demons stood still, paralyzed with fear. Even these creatures can know fear. That was the moment when Commander Zacharius led us to breach the siege. We went out… No, we ran. We ran for our lives like we had wings. We, with our thousands of wounds, covered the distance between the fortress and the demon army so fast that their lord wasn't able to finish his unholy prayers! We broke through their ranks, killing anyone we saw until they split and stepped aside, in terror of our battle spirit. There truly was something to protect and die for: the priests of all the gods of the Newfound Sanctuary were in the middle of our formation, marching in step with the youngest and strongest soldiers. Their backs cracked under the weight of their relics, their faces were petrified with pain — yet they still had enough faith in their souls to keep smiling, to inspire us, to heal and bless those who came close to them. They were scared to death, but they kept on going. We were all scared, and we all kept on going. And we made it. We cut our way through the demon army and went out into the open. Only then did we face our fear and let it drive us forward and away from our enemies like the wind driving a ship out to sea. We disappeared in the mountain shade. We hid in the canyons. We survived. After all these years I still remember seeing Zacharius and his apprentices for the last time. They were leading our formation. When they had broken through the demon army, they split and formed a passage, holding the enemies off for us to escape that deadliest of traps. Still, even their power had its limits. The ring of demons tightened and closed in, cutting them off from the rest of our group. The last thing I remember is Zacharius gathering his followers and retreating back to the Newfound Sanctuary — now condemned to be called the Lost Chapel."