D&D: The Doom of Ardross

The Memoirs of Azaroth Storme

My life has been anything but ordinary, but the last months have been by far the most unique. As I look in the mirror, the pale, gaunt face staring back at me is a weak, pitiful reflection of what I once was. This red blight, this plague that torments me, is beginning to take a toll on my strength and will. The most frustrating part is that the cure is always just out of reach. Even now, as my comrades and I defeat the most powerful beings we have ever faced, we remain stricken by this deadly disease.

The only positive to come of all this is I have been refining my combat skills. I feel as though my abilities are being honed, and I am becoming more deadly by the day. My ability to escape attacks, break into even the most guarded rooms, and evade my enemies unnoticed is reaching an unparalleled level. I am becoming a force to be reckoned with, and I can see that even my allies are beginning to fear the swiftness of my blade. The scary part is that I have only just begun to reach my true potential. Once I shed the burden of this red poison that haunts me I will truly be an elite thief, respected enough to enter the brotherhood that has for so long eluded me. I suppose I owe the king a thanks for sending me on that quest, despite where it has taken me.

The only thing left to do is maintain my sanity while this sickness drains away my strength. As long as I can fight, can move like the wind across a room, silently striking before my enemy even realizes I am there, then I can push forward. However, I fear for my mind once this blight consumes my body. Once I lose my vitality I do not know whether I will be able to go on. For now, I fight. For now, I remain immortal.

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