The Adventurers' Journal:
      Read these entries only when prompted; premature reading of the
journal will ruin your enjoyment of the game.

Entry #T1:
      In a burst of ghastly blue light comes the shimmering image of a
tall, pale man.  He looks at you with cold eyes, as blue as the aura that
surround hum, as if debating your worth.  He moves closer.
      "So you have come, Outcast.  You think you know power: you do
not.  You think you know pain.  You do not.  You think you know the
unending loneliness of immortality.  You do not know it as I do, as my
Master does.
      "Yes, he has been expecting you.  For it is the Gathering.  A
place for you has been reserved at the table of death.  The forces of
Darkness are assembling -- and you are one of us.  Even the Outcast feels
the pull of the Gathering.  It is too strong to ignore and that is why you
are here.
      "Do not fight it - your soul does not exist anymore.  Give in -
let your dark heart rage once more.  Only then will this world be ours for
the taking.  Join us and fulfil your destiny!"
      "A dying world for the dead.  How appropriate," you say dryly. 
"But I do not think that I will be Gathered anytime soon."
      The vampire smiles.  His black hair has been brushed back from a
high, aristocratic forehead.  And you know then: you want to kill him, 
too.
      "We shall see," he replies.  "Further in this building you will
find more of our brethren who may persuade you otherwise.  Until then..."
the image of the vampire fades from sight.  All that remains is a cold 
blue shadow, lurking in the hallway.  And waiting.  Waiting for you to 
fail, for you to give in, as you know you eventually must.  The pull is 
so strong...

Entry #T2:
      A bloody skull looms on the horizon.  It leers at you with
burning eyes and an eternal grin.  You cringe back - for you have seen 
that face before.
      "No, it cannot be," you mumble.  Your voice seems to reach your
ears from a great distance.  It sounds harsh and foreign; you do not
recognize it as your own.  "It was so long ago, so very long..."
      The skull simply grins.  "You killed us all, Rascyc.  You, the
greatest warrior on Krynn, wiped out a village of woman and children.  How
heroic!" the skull intones.  It draws closer and closer, dominating your
vision.  Red light spills out of its empty eye sockets; it bathes you, it
devours you.
      "Forty-two dead in an hour.  And what had we done?  Nothing! Our
village just happened to be in the way of one of your drunken rampages. 
And you killed us all - burned the village right to the ground.  Boom! 
Nothing left.  No one's alive now."
      "No, no.... NO!  I am no longer a man - this cannot happen to
me!"  you shout. 
      "You are neither a man nor a lich.  You are nothing.  Yet."  The
skull's voice is changing.  In fact, the skull itself seems to
be...different.  You blink in surprise and wonder - no longer does a
grinning death's head confront you.  Rather, the shining, awe-inspiring
visage of Paladine looms above you!
      "Repent for your past sins; fix what you have wronged.  Do not
let what happened in that village happen again.  And above all, do not 
give in to your Dark Side.  To do so would be death.  Death for what 
survives of your soul and for the world itself.  Resist the pull of the 
Gathering at all costs!"  The god sinks back into the horizon.
      You begin to wonder if you even saw it at all.

Entry #T3:
      You are overcome by yet another vision... your surroundings grow
dim as you are drawn into the depths of your mind...
      A red-robed man waits for you here.  He looks up at you with a
peaceful, almost benevolent look.  He does not look at all evil.
      "Welcome, my child.  The Gathering of Darkness has begun.  I
have been calling all of my children here and you answered.  There is a
current of malice and anger in you that is unparalleled in the world of 
the living - and the realm of the dead.  Rascyc, you are special.  You are 
the hunter and wanderer of Darkness.
      "It has been foreseen in the Chronicles: 'a red-robe will rise
to power in the forgotten lands, in search of something more than life
could give him.  He will call to his banner the disillusioned, the weary,
and above all, the evil.  His army will be one of chaos and death.  
Indeed, death incarnate will ride into its folds, killing all that it 
encounters, without mercy or thought...'  You Rascyc.  The prophecy 
refers to you.
      "Yes, you are destined to join us.  Do not fight.  Do not
struggle.  Give in.  Let your anger show through.  It is all that you 
have, and with it, you will take all that you ever wanted.  Come to me, 
and I will show you power that you could only dream of!"
      "Never," you say.  "I will never join you!"
      "Then you will die, as only the undead can," the man of your
vision answers.  He no longer looks peaceful - a storm of wrath rages
across his face.  And his robes are no longer red.  "Maybe your travels
here will change your mind."