This cathedral is both wondrous and horrifying. The trials we have faced thus far have left us a tired lot and most deserving of the rest we've agreed upon, but I find some amount of sleeplessness has captured me. The highs and lows of the past handful of hours has been the most exciting and painful of my entire life, and I can't wait to return to those dark and mournful halls once more.
As I began to make my way inside after my last journal entry, the four of them emerged from the hidden depths of the ruin, with wary eyes and frayed nerves. Kevin made his characteristically infuriating entrance by suddenly appearing at my side, and we were both told of the terrors within: the walking bones of the fallen, a strange and mysterious voice booming from nowhere, and carefully laid traps littered throughout what I now see is more of a monument to past glories and sins than a place of worship.
The cleric was drawn away to assist with the birth of a child; the dwarf accompanied him. I was surprised to hear that other families were remaining in their isolated homes like my clan was, considering they aren't armed with fierce sorcery. If these brigands decide to eschew their usual method of attack and instead come by land, that newborn will probably not live to see the next week, let alone a long and fruitful life. Regardless, we followed Darvin and Alyx down into the cathedral to continue the search for these much vaunted wards Mother Gram spoke of.
It's difficult to know where even to begin. The main hall was impressively large; it must have been even more so magnificent when the varying tapestries had survived the ages. The one that remained was primarily blank, but I was quickly informed that when they first ventured down below, the filled in portions of this artwork were blank as well. Only after defeating the shambling remains of the halflings did this fragment of the greater picture emerge.
I won't bother going into much in the way of details when it comes to what we learned about the creators of this curious place; conquering the challenges laid before us has been far more satisfying than puzzling out what exactly transpired so long ago. The voice repeatedly attempts to make explanations for the destruction of non-human settlements; I began to ignore it. At this point, the most interesting thing to me about these old halls is what is keeping these dead upright.
The elven corpses that we faced off against were surprisingly nimble. Not only were they capable of jumping and swinging on ropes, but handling a bow and arrow. The few mentions to this particular type of magick in Father's study told of misshapen forms: broken masses of desiccated flesh and fractured bone only capable of simple actions. The dwarven figures were also intriguing, although I think they were more a kind of elemental of the fire plane with the trappings of a dwarf, rather than the fallen form of some smith.
I'm beginning to feel sleep come to me. I'll need rest to deal with whatever comes next. There's no way that those decaying few are the only remaining dangers waiting below.