Untitled

It is with darkest of premonitions that I, Nathaniel Sewall, pen this deposition concerning the findings of my self-imposed investigation into the manner concerning one Driscoll Crawford, of the Cygnaran Reconnaissance  Service Couriers. I do this in part as a matter of principle, in the event that testimony of Mr. Crawford bears  truth, and partially as an appeal for further research into the case should my investigation prove as ill-fated as  I fear it may be. Having embraced ample time for consideration, I now prepare myself to embark on a quest to  establish contact with the wildmen known as the Tharn. My research suggests that there are men among them or  affiliated with them which may be capable of enlightening me on the aspects of the beast of which Driscoll Crawford  spoke. But perhaps, I should first elaborate.

        A young man, this Driscoll Crawford was, but a dedicated one none the less. Signed up early to support the  war effort, and was stationed with the Cygnaran Rangers after his military education was completed. After initial  inspection and several field tests, a motion was approved to transfer him to the Reconnaissance Service Couriers,  most likely in part due to his overall passivity to violence and his inability to stand out in both the eyes of his  peers or his enemies. He distinguished himself in this new position beyond adequate satisfaction as remarked by his  commanding officers; remarks such as "light on his feet", "follows directions thoroughly with aplomb" or "handles  confidential information with great tact" stud his personnel file prior to the Cryxian counter-assault on the joint  Cygnaran-Khador forces at the Thornwood in recent past. An incident he recalls with maddened certainty in the  procession of events.

        My first interaction with this fellow began as response to a call from the asylum down in Caspia. The poor  sod had been recently interred due to shell shock according to his documents, however he began displaying symptoms  typically unseen within that diagnosis and there was suspicion of witchcraft at play. After a brief discussion  with the resident caretaker and doctor, I proceeded in. At fist glance the man was nothing but slight out of the  ordinary. He spoke fluently, maintained proper hygiene, yet as expected, he did bear some nervous ticks. There  were moments where he broke off conversation mid sentence to cock his head and listen to some inaudible pitch only  he could perceive. Though this behaviour was in the mildest sense odd, it was nothing primarily unexpected. During  the first couple of visitations no metaphorical alarm bells cried. As I stated before, short of the odd residual  quirk left from the war, he wasn't all that off in comparison to the typical citizen. As our sessions progressed I  failed to accumulate any real evidence of his possession, only hear stories from the man about his experience  within the war, upto and including the battle that sent him here.

        And so we reach the catalyst of my investigation. An account of the toils of war upon which beset our  fellow man, and consequently, his supposed metaphysical plunge into the realm of Urcaen. This is also where we will  unfortunately begin the fragmental nature of my accounts. My notes were not as thorough as they needed to be given  circumstance that would soon unfold. Distinctly I remember being roused late a night past by not the gentle rapping  at my chamber door, but by a hellish cacophony of sound. A bird call once charmingly nostalgic of my youth in the  meadows now grating shrilly against my efforts to sleep. The whippoorwill persisted for considerable breadth of  time, stopping shortly before I made up my mind to arise and quiet the little feathered bastard myself. At which  the tapping finally broke through. Beyond the door stood a man garbed within the traditional attire you'd expect of  a sanitarium orderly, his posture exasperated and his face denoting an uncertain rustling of his nerves. Informed I  was of our incarcerated subject's newest of symptoms; self-mutilations. It was perplexing at the time, though I  know now that it should not have been. Merely a day or so before, the man had sat before me bearing no signs of the  depreciation of his faculties. Let alone behaviour methodically employed to hasten his presumed self-destruction.  Thereafter a brief deliberation ensued and I prepared myself for an early morning trip. Considering the current  hour it would not only have been impractical but also likely complicate the medical procedures enacted to quell his  bleeding. Only then would the delusional mind not only present itself physically to me, but also engage me in a  discussion of deranged planescapes, of a vast monolithic domain I could only assume to attribute to the human god  Menoth, and of great swathes of fearsome wilderness dominating no known place of my physical recollection that I  assumed to be Urcaen.