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Isobel's Diary Ever since I returned, there's been a filth in me. I feel it in my very lungs. I cannot get it out - it will never out, this death that reeks within me. There are some things even the Moonmaiden cannot heal. There are some things she would never accept in her devoted. I should never have come back
Ironhand Gnomes: Our Grievances ALL KNOW that the primal source of mechanomagical method and measurement is GAERDAL IRONHAND, gnomic deity of militant artifice. For generations, the Ironhand clan reverently toiled in their Baldur's Gate workshops creating intricate devices of precision and beauty, crafting in peace alongside the sweatshops of lesser artisans. Sometimes, in their generosity, the Ironhands even shared methods with these Others. But then did the adherents of the thief-god GOND, in their hubris, found a House of Wonders and arrogate to themselves the labour and credit of all mechanomagical works in Baldur's Gate. And many gnomes did join the Gondians, to their shame. And the voice of GAERDAL spoke to Wolverforce Bongle and said unto him, 'Suffer not these Gondians to steal thy livelihoods'. And so Wolverforce spake out against the Gondians, citing the flaws and errors in their shoddy works, rightly extolling the superiority of the creations of the Ironhands. In response the Gondians, in their envy and choler, did utter vile slander and calumny against the Ironhands. And Wolverforce was wroth. Therefollowed the death of Wolverforce in the Unfortunate Runepowder Incident, and the Ironhands, with the complicity of the Flaming Fist, were driven from the city into woeful exile.
Iron Throne - Windup and Shutdown Orders from Lord Gortash As the Steel Watch project approaches quota fulfilment and completion, preparations should be started for expected retooling of the Foundry and complete shutdown of the Iron Throne. Conversion of the Iron Throne from research facility to prison was hastily executed, and substantial material in the form of technical prototypes and experiment logs remains in the side chambers. Schedule a sweep to collect or dispose of this material to be completed by the end of the next tenday. Shortly thereafter the Gondian hostages will have reached the end of their usefulness, so prepare to dispose of them as well. - Black Gauntlet Hahns Rives
Investigation Notes [The ledger is filled with tight, precise handwriting that seems to suggest a focused, analytical mind.] A fresh lead has been volunteered by one of the guests in the dungeons - praise Lady Shar for inspiring the inventor of thumbscrews. The guest spoke of an abandoned house (see map coordinates included) that was once said to belong to a potter, but is now being used as a clandestine place of worship for Selûnite holdouts and their sympathisers. There is a chance, of course, that the guest offered up false information in a bid to end his suffering, but I suspect not - his confession had the ragged, unpolished air of truth to it. I shall endeavour to investigate at once, and cautiously - best if I am not seen, and should I find any Selûnite idols or texts, I can summon reinforcements and lay a trap. Oh what a joy it shall be to see their faces when they are caught in the act, surrounded by dark cloaks. Verzen Wranlock, Inquisitor to the Church of Lady Shar.
Inventory Report Goods delivered 'upstairs': Terazul, 6 pouches; Dreammist, 14 vials; Wyvern Toxin, 2 bottles; G-Cube Lube, 2 double bottles; Basilisk Oil, 3 bottles; Spectator Eye, 1. Negotiations: The talks with those three are going nowhere. I don't know what they want, but I'm close to just cutting contact. No good comes from negotiating with the deranged. - L
Inventory of Takings [This stone disc has githyanki runes carved into it. Below them is drawn a translation into the common tongue. It is an inventory of items taken by the githyanki from the Lathanderian monks upon their initial takeover of the monastery, and the subsequent shipment of major valuables back to Tu'narath.]
Invasion Plans for the Sword Coast [This map of the Sword Coast sprawls from the deep forest of Tethir to the frigid Spine of the World, its topography worn by ancient ink and the constant trade between mortal hands.]
Into the Feywild [Excerpt from what appears to be an unpublished memoir.] I called my name out into the darkness, and nothing came back. Not even an echo. That was the moment I knew I was truly alone, and that I - Gyldro Angleiron - would have to find a way to confront myself, accept myself, and fundamentally embrace myself for exactly who I was. And it was the Feywild that would teach me how...
Inscrutable Journal [...] We've followed Musharib's instructions so far, but something feels odd. We've encountered no creatures along the way. Only alien noises from all directions. Sleep evades us, and the muck on my boots has hardened into a permanent feature. Hopefully, we find [...] [...] Lost more hair this morning. I knew there were side effects to coming back, but I didn't expect it to be so [...] [...] -erak. I hear him laughing, the lamentations of the Omuans droning like a chorus. What is the purpose of this hellhole? He speaks through the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Is he the tomb? Is he [...] [On the last legible page is a crudely drawn charcoal outline of a Bearded Devil's face, its mouth agape in a silent scream.]
Inscribed Githyanki Slate (Astral Prism) [Symbolic drawings, etched over a forgotten text. Two figures, one an imposing female with regal aspect, the other, a Devil, his face twisted with wry charm. Their hands meet in the exchange of an artefact - the Astral Prism.]
Inscribed Githyanki Slate [A map has been etched onto this intricate disc. The Risen road winds through a mountain pass. Within the hills is nestled a sizeable temple; within the temple, the githyanki people have established a stronghold. Pictographs reveal their mission: to retrieve a polyhedric relic on behalf of the githyanki queen.]
Inroads by Arms Dealer Gortash Nine-Fingers - Here follows a report on the inroads upstart smuggler Enver Gortash has been making on the illicit arms trade in the Chionthar Valley, though 'inroads' badly understates the case - 'annexation' would be more apt. The former black market leaders, the Knights of the Shield and (outside the city) the Zhentarim, have largely been supplanted by Gortash's operation. Illegal arms have never been a major component of the Guild's business, but given his apparent ambitions it would be unwise to assume that Gortash will stop there. He bears watching - closely. - Bursar Uktar
Innkeeper's Journal May the Moonmaiden protect us - I delayed my meeting with Morfred, only to find the entire masonry had been raided, and all its inhabitants taken for questioning. I doubt I'll ever see my brother again. If they get to him, I'll be next. One look at my shrine will tell on me. But I could not - would not - deny Our Lady of Silver, even under pain of what Ketheric has promised any who do not convert.
Inner Peace: The Path to Perfection [A self-help book suggesting all depressive woes can be cured by drinking the oil of freshly-grown olives.]
Inklings [This novel is bookmarked on a page lined with markings; its reader seems to have underscored certain parts for emphasis] After all, there's no point in denying the undeniable, which, until that moment, I had obscured with the million minor tasks by which I measured my life. Yes, the polishing, the scrubbing, the pouring of wine and tea and deference into my master's cup - all of it had surrounded and obscured the essential truth of my life, like a phalanx now fallen. I had wasted my years, one by one, and now there were hardly any left to me at all.
Ink-Spattered Journal [This journal is written in a sloppy, ink-spattered hand and dotted with drawings of stick figures.] Day 1 - Kled met some nice people. They didn't laugh when Kled told them about the Redcaps. And the rats. And the hag. Kled thinks he has finally made friends. Day 10 - The landlord is angry. He says all the weird things happening are our fault - but they're not! The landlord doesn't care - he says we have to elave. My friends are sad, which means Kled is sad. Kled wants to help. Day 11 - Kled found a place to stay! It belonged to Old Garlow but he doesn't live there any more. My friends are really happy. They thanked Kled! Kled is happy he did a good job.
Infirmary Records [A list of githyanki names, and the treatment they received in the infirmary. It is written in the common tongue; the name 'Varrl' comes up 47 times.] Sa'varrsh Kethk, far be it from me to tell you how to do your job but may I suggest doing something about Varrl? He's a drain on resources, not to mention interrupting my research, and I'd like to go through at least two days without seeing him again. - Ghustil Stornugoss.
Infernal Contracts And Bargains [This book presents a guide on which devils to bargain with for what.] One must choose which devil they deal with using utmost vigilance. Remember, devils are not only fiends - they're bastards. I once knew a man who asked for ultimate protection against his enemies from a devil of Dispater. He was transported into an impregnable iron fortress deep underground: one without doors. So, pick and choose with caution, friends. For matters of money: creatures of Minarous can best salve your woes. For matters of pleasure (or pain): face the fiery folk of Phlegethos. [This tome continues in much the same manner.]
Infernal Armoury ['Infernal Arms': This tome details the various weapons and armour that can be found in the Hells, including their properties. The section on how to acquire them has been torn out.]
Incomplete Journal [A hastily scrawled journal entry – apparently the last in a series.] Aelis, Bareki, Don’t be mad if you find this, boys. I’m not trying to keep the treasure from you. We just ripped off Gortash, and if I know you two at all you’re going to spend it all in the one spot and draw the bastard Archduke-to-be’s notice. (Before you protest – remember Talik’s bakery, years back? I’m doing my best to deny it all to the Fist, and you don’t even bother to wash the cake from your gobs.) So if you’ve found this, that means I’m off doing my business in the tunnels – so put it back and pretend you never saw it like sweet little dears. And wipe your faces. Sarin.
In the Mode of Masters ...this was followed by the Astral Period, whose founding members railed against the perfection and studied nature of the Classical Period with unbridled colours, porous borders between segments, and unconventional materials like blood on stone, hair sewn into paper, and chalk on humanoid skin. The first discernible piece of Astral Art was created by Wilhelmina Oates who, it was said, returned to the Material Plane after a lifetime spent on the Astral Plane, only to find that no time at all had passed. She leveraged her lifetime of wisdom to spearhead this new mode of art which, though rejected at first by critics, soon heralded a new era of creation across the realm.
In Search of the Nightsong Fascinating that such a seemingly valuable object has proven so difficult to track down. Indeed, treasure- hunters the realm over have travelled to the Sword Coast with one goal in mind: To find the Nightsong. Yet each by each they have failed, indicating dead ends, rebuffs, or else disappearing altogether. My latest enquiry was with a half-orc named Graly, who insisted he'd come as close as possible to the relic as one may go without forfeiting his or her life. He indicated that the object is not, as most reports indicate, in the Selûnite fort adjacent to the river Chionthar. It is, in fact, held in an old Sharran fortress somewhere in the environs of Moonrise Towers. However, Graly reported that some kind of potent shadow prevents one from approaching where this fortress might be.
Impractical Magic, Volume 2 [This tome covers the nature of dead magic zones.] During an era called the Time of Troubles, a good many changes befell the world, not least of which was the fracturing and reassembling of the source of all magic called the Weave. Though much of the world has recovered from that era, some sites remain scourged of magical power. Cut off from the Weave, they nullify all magic and spellcasting nearby...
Impractical Magic, Volume 1 [Extract from a book about the phenomenon of wild magic, related by the wizard Bigby to his finest friend and equally accomplished sage, Otiluke]: Now look, old boy, I’m not saying that it isn’t terribly funny. Hearing about a sorcerer casting the fly spell only to have his underpants turn into butterflies and his shoes into curry-flavoured jelly – that is immensely good fun and ought to be celebrated. However, what gives me the heebie-jeebies is the notion of origin. Where does wild magic come from? We know that sorcery and the like is genetic, that you’re born gifted with magic. Does that imply some dominant allele in the sorcerer has overcome the recessive element, the chaotic curl of organic evolution, the wild factor? Worries me awfully, because if it isn’t genetic, then what could it be? If magic is inherently insane, then that is a very big problem. That would imply wizards are wrangling something they could turn around and bite us, and that sorcerers are inherently at risk. Troubling, old boy. Troubling stuff.
Ilmatari Combat Manual Many would ask how the Open Hand Temple should respond to acts of violence against our persons. Well it is a most sticky conundrum. We must rely on the gifts granted to us by our suffering god: that of curative miracles. As long as you can salve yourself, your fellow congregants, or even the wayward minds of your vicious assailants, that must be your approach. For we are not to inflict suffering, only to alleviate it. Besides, there's always nearby Flaming Fist to handle that sort of distasteful thing. Hopefully.
Ideas for New Outfits Ankle scarves Oxbow ties Bucket hats - could be fashionable? Displacer cloaks - hard to source outside of Circus Face ruffs Two-person waistcoats?
I Told Jorkens I told Jorkens, 'Jorkens', I said, 'the cpatain should never have dropped anchor at Crone Island', but Jorkens just laughed at me, like he always does. Now I ain't seen the captain in days, just stays in her cabin and calls out through her door, saying she's sick, and I'm feeling mighty poorly myself. Jorkens don't look so good neither. But at least he's stopped laughing at me.
I Talk to the Bones [This is a notebook filled with handwritten poems, most of which seem to be about communing with the murdered dead through contemplation of their corpses. The verse, much of it quite accomplished, is lyrical and elegiac, profoundly insightful and even moving. The final poem is 34 lines in length, ending with the words below.] Your corpus was killed, your life ephemeral But your death was fine art, and art is eternal. Hail, immortal victim, hail In sacrifice, live ever on.
Hymns for the Gone [A book of prayers to Kelemvor, Judge of the Dead. Someone has annotated it with the following:] These are a little saccharine in places, but one or two have genuine merit as something more than religious doggerel, something that actually evokes the complicated feelings of loss and hope for the departed, their wellbeing, their eternal preservation in some paradise.
How to Track an Illithid [A handwritten tome documenting various tried and tested ways to track mind flayers, and the results of each endeavour.]
How to Build a Watcher How Gortash hijacked the Gondian Auto-Guard project to create his Steel Watchers is remarkable and horrible, and somebody ought to tell it. Might as well be me. The original design for the Auto-Guards outwardly resembled the eventual Watchers, but an Auto-Guard was designed to be piloted by a (small) individual in a cockpit in the torso. When Gortash, through some scheme involving fraud and blackmail, took over the Dock Foundry, he scrapped those plans and announced that the Steel Watch would be entirely remote-controlled from a central hub. We had no idea that this remote control would involve both Myrkulite necromancy and illithid psionics. As finally worked out (under duress) by Zanner Toobin, fitting out of a Steel Watcher requires the following steps: - A zombie is decapitated and has its brain removed. - The brain is 'tadpoled' and put in a brain jar where it becomes parrt of the Absolute hive mind. - The tadpoled brain retains its psionic connection to its undead body. - The undead, headless body is wired into the torso of a Steel Watcherr. - The Absolute elder brain sends psionic orders to a jarred brain. - The jarred brain passes on the order to its connected Steel Watcher. All of this telepathic traffic is coordinated through the Neurocitor in the Control Centre. But I hope to do something about that.
House Rules of the Bee Hive [This is a battered old handwritten notebook of rules around the house for the family, added to and amended over many years, chore assignments for nine children changing over time as they grow up. The most recent addition is below.] Gazeba, now that Bubbles is out of the house, you're in charge of making sure all the bed linens are clean and completely changed twice a tenday - three times in the case of Hemjax, that piglet!
Hostel Registry Nortale's Hostel, Current Lodgers - Goris Ballast - Dholber Greene and Dwindling - Bunt Chugley - Rags Deelarma - Reagan Splint (last tenday due to that incident)
Hostage Census Iron Throne Hostages: Twosday Roll Call Obelia Toobin Phoenix Lubbins Hastar Biggs Marlono Rhandle... ...Roll call interrupted by attempted escape of Flo Hapgood, deceased. Addition: Ulder Ravengard, arrived via Submersible, detained in solitary confinement.
His Holy Blood, Vol. 3, Dawnmaster Vaseid [This missal commemorates the founding of Rosymorn Monastery.] For my sins, it only just occurred to me that I had lacked in my record-keeping of late. But then again, I, no, we have been busy. In our fray with the Sharran thieves we retrieved the Blood - but one of the heretics sinned most heinously. They struck the amber encasing His Blood with a maul of pure void, damaging the most holy relic. As if knowing of this blasphemy, the exposed Blood shone with an unbreakable radiance, reducing the Sharran horde to dust for us to sift from this now-holy ground. The relic became far too unstable to carry back to Hap. Thus we fashioned a simple chapel around ourselves here, and have encased the Blood within steel - to be wielded as a most righteous cudgel against those who sit in shadow. To keep it from the lustful sacrilege of thievery, our simple chapel will become a great monastery, and the Blood shall be secreted away with a great many more wiles than it was before. I find it hard to fathom that we left such an artefact in such an obvious, open space to begin with. Alas - His light singes away the mistakes of the past, leading to a more fortuitous dawn indeed.
His Holy Blood, Vol. 2, Paladin Vaseid [This missal charts an expedition to find a lost relic called The Blood of Lathander.] While mine eyes remain unscorched, we have made great progress in finding His lost Blood. After many suns of searching, I pen this entry as our gaze lies upon a Sharran outpost, nestled among the valleys of the Chionthar. We know the Sharrans hold the Blood - they dropped a cargo trunk during transport one eve, and its lid slipped open. 'Twas only a moment, but my shining adherents, what a moment it was. The entire riverbank aflame with a soothing radiance - the same rosy light of a summer dawn. I could practically hear his morning song bouncing between the valley walls. We advance upon those heretic nightbringers at the first light of dawn tomorrow and shall leave naught but ashes in our wake.
His Holy Blood, Vol. 1, Dawnmaster Dovaer [This missal describing a holy artefact of Lathander is penned in a particulary fevered hand.] His radiance has FADED from our UNWORTHY GAZES, o ye lightless wretches! We have failed the Morninglord - and I record that failing in the pages of this tome! To think, HE once stood on our imperfect world, among us imperfect mortals, and felled the VILLAIN Sammaster with His holy brilliance. He BLED for us, brethern, and we were tasked with locking our gazes eternally upon His blood. We let those gazes falter - and the blood was TAKEN, wrenched from our sight. It is a TEST, one that this Chapel is duty-bound to undertake. I pass the keeping of this record along to Paladin Vaseid, CHOSEN in light to find the relic. Paladin, when you look upon the blood, I pray Lathander honours your deeds by burning out your eyes.
Highcliff's Journal The pupil surpasses the teacher! My master weapons are almost complete - there's just one component left. Sampson says the designs are a failure. But what's he know? He can barely see past his own belly. I stashed the prototypes and blueprints for now. But just you wait, Sampson. Your legend is fading - and a new one will rise in its place.
Hide-Bound Journal One favour. One faithful servant. That is all I summoned - no more and no less than Malice Do'Urden ever had - or indeed the Mother of Lusts herself. The yochlol was quite a sight in all its forms. I'd read of its foul odour, but I found it intoxicating, like rosewater. So it smashed a few artefacts, hissed at a master. The Archmage should have revered me for such a conjuring. Instead, he threatened to curse me - to make me a drider. Yet my time will come. Soon, I will return to Menzoberranzan and Sorcere. Then, the Archmage will worship me. I will be served!
Her Love For it Was Like A Plum Her love for it was like a plum It grew so sweet within her tum And with a wiggle of her bum She set right out to see love done A curse had made the land its lair It lay o'er all like willow hair Oh it could strip the body bare So filled the people with despair A Shadow Curse without a light Yet she would kindle romance bright And so in moony dark of night She went to it bereft of fright And hugged the curse, the wicked blight Then, so sharply, pain did come It chewed her flesh like scrumptious gum She trickled, she burst, she started to run.
Helsik's Diary Is there any sound sweeter than the jingle jangle of a coins rubbing against coins? Of course Mammon will hardly be sated by a mere pocketful of gold. No, I'm going to have to start being smarter about this. What I need is not just revenue, but multiple sources of it. If nothing else, to beat Korrilla. Perhaps it's time to diversify the business? Not just curios, but information, or even better - access. Oh you're a genius, Helsik...
Helm-Embossed Journal [This journal is written in an elegant hand. On each page, a gauntlet with a staring eye is carefully drawn.] I was lost when I came to this city. A coward. A drunkard. I thought everything that made me worthy had been stripped away by the Annis Hag. And then Mayrina found me. She helped me remember the tenets I once fought for - courage. Honour. Duty. She brought me back to Helm - she saved my life. Now my saviour, my friend, is in pain. A hag hexed her, trapping her in the body of a sheep. It was my job to protect her and the others, and I failed. If she dies... I will not be long following her.
Heavy Book On the wall hangs a seaside landscape, which often catches my eye during the course of my work-a-day life. I'm surprised Gerringothe chose such a decoration for her tollhouse; I've never known her as any appreciator of nature, beauty, art... naught but the cold clink of gold. One day, when my days are repaid, I'll travel to the coast, breathe in two deep draughts of air, and forget Reithwin forever.
Healers' Ledger [The Reithwin House of Healing's inventory of various poultices, tonics, and potions. Supplies appear to have dwindled dramatically in its final days, and upon the book's front cover is scrawled a message in black ink: 'Justiciars only. NO EXCEPTIONS.']
Healer's Log Patient - Sampson Occupation - Blacksmith Malady - gout Comments - Sampson's become accustomed to the good life since he acquired that new apprentice. I gave him a tincture of autumn crocus and told him to avoid red meat and ale. Patient - Branley Occupation - Cooper Malady - large wood splinter in hand Comments - Splinter removed. Wound cleaned, doused in balsam ointment and bandaged. Patient - Timmick Occupation - none (child) Malady - swallowed bottle cork. Comments - No hardness or blockage in stomach. The cork should pass without causing harm. I gave the lad a stern warning. Patient - Dida Occupation - Apprentice Blacksmith Malady - minor burns to the face and hands Comments - Another burn for Sampson's eager young apprentice. The usual treatment was applied, but I urged her to slow her pace at work before she inflicts real harm on herself.
Havkelaag's Notes All of my hypotheses are just that, theories and no more, unless I can test them under controlled conditions. I need a viable githyanki egg. I MUST acquire one somehow. Or Havkelaag is not a serious researcher, just a mere intellectual dilettante.
Havkelaag's Journal I have named him Ptaris in honour of the Ptarian Code under which he will be raised. We have concocted a means to accelerate his growth that we might condense our learnings into a shorter time period and yield quick results before the season's end.
Havkelaag's Journal The child seems to have taken well to the doctrine that is his namesake. He learns fast, with diligence, attentiveness, and fierce hunger. I daresay he is the best student I have ever seen in all regards but one - he has a certain rigidity when it comes to interpreting the rules of the code. For example, the other day I squashed a rat in his quarters, and Ptaris immediately struck me with a blow to the face. When asked why he had done this, he replied, 'Rule Number Five: Honour and Protection to the Lesser Species.' 'But Ptaris,' I reasoned, 'The rat was simply vermin.' The gith child replied, 'First one rat, then the entire species. You did not follow the code.' I had no response to this that would satisfy him. My notes languish, but with reason. Ptaris' appetite for learning is ferocious, and I am struggling to keep up. I begin to fear for him. He is obsessive, his indoctrination perhaps now too successful. My own injuries are a testament to the vehemence with which he upholds the code. He believes himself to be absolutely good, but any onlooker would be able to see that this is not the case. He is violent, compulsive, dare I say it - dangerous. But what is still not clear to me is whether this is a result of his own self, or his githyanki nature.
Harvest of Memory Brought to the Shadowfell (which is a reflection of the world you're in, and a dark reflection too, rife with wickedness and twisted echoes and despair) by their Raven Queen, the shadar-kai are elves. Not elves as you might find along the Sword Coast, but elves that reflect their home with their physiology and attitude. On the whole they are cruel, nasty-minded people who are nonetheless singularly devoted to their Queen and her domain of power. That domain is life and death, and in their unwavering fealty to their mistress, the shadar-kai perform the thankless duty of ferrying the memories of the dead for her to admire in a kind of memory-based menagerie,
Harping By Moonlight: An Approach To Life [Harping By Moonlight: An Approach to Life; by Elminster Aumar, The Sage of Shadowdale. The text is rife with observations and personal introspection, such as this:] I've never understood why people talk about evil as if it's a point of view. I find that tawdry and stupid. Evil and good are as present in our world as gravity, and though their interpretation is displaced across the garbled noise of culture, they actually remain reasonably constant. Just because you've cast Fly doesn't mean you've broken gravity. Even the God who gives a Cleric her power is just a flue down which the smoke of Good flows. Sometimes I wish we lived somewhere in which these things weren't as omnipotent as they are. No matter how long you study, you can't grapple smoke. I've tried to understand Good, to realise it in our world. More and more often as I get older, I just feel it flowing through my fingers. Which isn't to say the things we do are meaningless. We may be puppets toked and strobed around by Good and Evil, but we can jerk on the strings a little.
Harper's Notebook [A tattered collection of reports held together with a moon-and-harp seal. There is frequent mention of sacrilegious activity among a local Selûnite sect.]
Harper Journal We are running around trying to find the borders of that blight. The ruins east of Last Light proved to be highly dangerous, with deep, biting shadows. Another suspicious one is that house on the hillock a little farther on. It seems dark and empty, but voices come from there. One of the others swears to me that he heard a child's laughter, and saw githyanki warriors approach the house from a distance. Surely his imagination must be getting the better of him out here.
Halsin's Journal, Vol II After more than a century of hard work, false leads, and dashed hopes, the means of saving Moonrise Towers may have just walked into the grove and presented itself to me. Thanks to the effects of the shadow curse, the roads leading to the citadel remain as impassable as ever, but there may be another way. An adventurer band led by a certain Aradin appeared, seeking my help with infiltrating a large goblin nest found in the ruins of the old temple of Selûne. He believes there is a vast network of Sharran passages and strongholds hidden deep under the temple, and that somewhere within these structures there is a rare artefact called the Nightsong. These newcomers seem like little more than mercenaries, but what they described rings true, and could explain so much - like how Ketheric Thorm managed to raise such a force of Dark Justiciars in utter secrecy, and how they seemed to vanish just as Thorm unleashed the shadow curse upon Moonrise. It's clear that there is a secret route from the temple of Selûne that weaves through the Underdark, all the way to Moonrise Towers. I have to see for myself - and that means I must join Aradin on his little expedition. One of his lot, a dwarf named Brian, has something in writing that's supposed to guide us to the hidden entrance in Selûne's temple - but finding the way is the least of our worries. The goblins there seem to worship the very same 'Absolute' as the ones who attacked Nettie and me - the same ones who also were in league with a drow infected with an altered illithid parasite. Worse still, my birds report that even more of these cultists are converging at Moonrise Towers, moving freely with little care for the effects of the curse. In my efforts to vanquish one plague, I may have stumbled upon another - whatever is behind these cultists and the tampered illithid spawn seems to have made its lair in Moonrise, right where the shadow curse is at its strongest. We will depart soon. I can only hope that our infiltration goes smoothly and we manage to elude these Absolutists - at least until I get to Moonrise Towers and lift the shadow curse. Then perhaps I can stop whatever illithid conspiracy is unfolding in those ruins, and the balance of nature will be restored once again. May Silvanus guide my path, and lend me all His strength for what is to come.
Halsin's Journal, Vol I Extraordinary happenings. While meditating in the forest, Nettie and I were ambushed by a pack of goblins, led by a drow. We had no choice but to defend ourselves. But that is not the extraordinary - or rather disturbing - part. On the drow's death, a parasitic creature emerged from the corpse and attempted to escape. I managed to capture it, and have the host's cadaver here in my study. I've told no one of my fears. Nettie suspects, but knows better than to ask. I will investigate further before informing the others. Kagha will demand answers I don't yet have. I had better record any further findings in a separate volume and keep them upon my person, lest prying eyes jump to the wrong conclusions.
Halfred's Note [Hidden amidst columns detailing the income and expenditure of a tavern is an aside, written in tiny, urgent handwriting.] I have concealed the sacred relics of our revered goddess in the darkest corner of this place. Morfred, my loyal brother, seeks to forge a network of allies to stand against the oppressive reign of Ketheric Thorm. Sadly, fear has gripped the hearts of many, turning them away from our cause. I cannot truly blame them, for trepidation fills my soul as well - but I must put aside my own fears and reunite with Morfred in the bowels of the Mason's Guild. Together, we shall preserve what we can of the Moonmaiden's light, and hope that the banners of the faithful soon rise against that treacherous dog, Thorm.
Hairy Henry's Journal These slick innards, these fluid chambers. How long have we been here, making thralls? I don't want to any longer... Myrkul is drowned out in my head by my own spiral fears. The Bone Lord doesn't want a coward. None of this looks real. I am in a kraken belly. I am turned inside-upside. I am dead. Myrkul's Gray Waste always sounded peaceful. Not like this
Hag Research Notes [A seemingly random collection of book titles, ingredients, and combinations.] Fastidious Fungi by J.L Corrins - pure speculation, despite the title. The Power of Words: Surviving the Fey by Anabil Lighthammer - chapters 418 to 425, hag encounters. Good details on hag gestation, and reproduction cycles. The Anatomy of Hag by Knuckles Gallow - chapter 18! Dragon Egg Mushroom + Autumn Crocus? Non-reactive. Elmorin Wings + Whisperlight Venom - potential, but two unstable. Crawler mucus + Fibber's Trumpet + Melloweed - useless.
Habits of Patriars [A self-help book warning against the dangers of self-pleasure.]
Guide to Taming Worgs CHAPTER 10: A Summary - Worgs are SMART. Probably smarter than you. Never forget it. - They'll hunt in packs but only if they like each other. Best mix is some quiet types and other aggros. Keep each other calm-like. - Never let them taste meat you don't want them to go for all the time. People, never ever. - Don't play favourites. They're very sensitive.
Guestbook of Rosymorn Abbey [A public guestbook in which there are multiple handwritten entries from pilgrims who visited over the years.] My home is as dark as my spirit. I pray that you will bring me light. Annual Kythorn pilgrimage. Good to see your statue again, my Lord. Never been here before in person - the stained-glass windows are astonishing! Will definitely recommend to others. Monks are friendly, will visit again soon. As a blacksmith, what an honour to see the four ceremonial weapons of the Dawnmasters themselves! I'm not a Lathanderian myself, but I'd highly recommend it to anyone in the trade. The intricacy of the metalwork is astounding!
Guest Log - Jorah and Claudette Amster - Jjesau Dominguez - Grey-eyes the Wizened - Arthina DuChamp - Elo Uhur - Boo and friend - The mysterious Mr. Plack - D.J. Mulligan - Al-kai, Elope, and Myles Lotz - Aliss Gregor - Jame and Anne Burn - Grayce and Dillon Cohf - Art Cullagh
Grymforge: A History [The binding of this book is thicker than its combined pages, which are surprisingly devoid of detail.] We know little of the ones that came before, but we know they worshipped the Lady of Loss. We know they constructed the great fortress, and named... [The next few words are smeared and illegible.] But from whence they came, and why they departed - this is a mystery even to Ketheric Thorm himself. What we do know is that Shar's Chosen has heard Her call. Just as Grymforge served our Mistress eight hundred years nigh, so it would again. Here, Thorm's Dark Justiciars shall rise. Here, we will fulfil our Goddess’ pact. Here, we will rebuild the lost city of Grymforge. So far will our shadows spread, and so dark will they be, that Selune's light may be forever extinguished.
Grimoire Bound in Imp Skin INFERNAL TRANSPOSITION RITUAL LAYER: Avernus BLOOD CIRCLE CONFIGURATION Place that which has no eyes but used to see at the western point of the circle. Two spaces lie opposite that point. 'Pon the left - place what is cut but cannot bleed. To the right - that which smells but cannot sniff. Beside the dead remains - the aspect of the Avariced Lord sits clockwise so. Then the circle's centre shall receive the internal marvel of infernal marble Finally - and I mean no disrespect - go to hell. Legal notice: The owner of this grimoire asserts that it is for scholarly and recreational purposes only! As a mere dealer in antiques, I disbelieve in the very existence of infernal transplanar travel. - Helsik
Grey Scout's Journal Shittin' Nere and his shittin' scouting tasks. 'You, duergar, find another way through the Shadow-Curse', sure, right, shittin' Nere, whoever laid this curse knew their business a lot better than you do WHAT WAS THAT? gnomes gnomes I killed you in the Underdark you can't be has ha ha I found your way through the curse, shittin' Nere, the way through the Shadow-Curse is to let the curse go through YOU hahaha ha ha
Graveyard Diary The moment is nigh; war has been brewing, and now it overflows. When Ketheric turned us toward Shar, I followed him - in appearance, if not in heart. This is my home, and I would not be removed from it, no matter what. I watched at a distance as the darkness here grew; as Ketheric's grief brought him farther and farther from life itself. As he gathered his army, I prayed for his defeat. As the Harpers march upon our little village - our little, beautiful village - I can only hope Ketheric will be felled at last, and Reithwin can begin to heal from this nightmare.
Gondian Research Report [Here you pass your eyes over a Gondian report concerning the Shadow Curse. Landmarks are sketched quite expertly, with special attention paid to areas where the curse hangs thickest. Of interest, the report ends with a recommendation for someone called the High Artificer. That recommendation reads thusly:] It is a geography unsalvageable, High Artificer. The curse's ambiguity makes it inscrutable as well as deadly. It is the shared belief amongst our party that this area be designated as 'Imperative to Avoid' on Gondian maps, and for all further expeditions to be summarily halted, discontinued, and not reconsidered thereafter.
Gondian Autoprinter Manual GONDIAN AUTOPRINTER USER MANUAL Using your Autoprinter is a two step procecss. Step One: Loading Your Headline Article Printing is as easy as opening a hatch and placing your desired article in the machine. Once the Autoprinter is loaded, it will animate and begin pumping out copies until either the ink reservoir or paper hopper is empty. Step Two: Endless Profit Now your exceptional journalism will be ready for delivery to your vast, vast readership - you'll need it with the amount of broadsheets this thing will print!
Gondian Automaton Conversion Automaton Conversion Plan Draft plan for converting the Hall of Wonders 'Auto-Guard' project to Director Gortash's specifications for a 'Steel Watch' Artificer: Zanner Toobin [What follows are many pages of nearly incomprehensible magico-technical specifications, complete with parts lists and diagrams. The page labelled 'Infernal Power Supply' is blank except for the words, 'To be supplied by Director Gortash'.]
Gond and Gripping Life By The Tongs [Reading the introduction to this 'religious' text, it's clear the author had a dirty thesaurus handy. For some reason she's also written in phonetics, as if she were dictating to a team of terrified scribes.] Right, ya rump-fed rabbit-stewards of the shitebin, here's a fact for your cap. Gond be the finest o' the big Gods. He dunnae fuck around witha wee teensy back-an- forth o' the miniscule Gods. He forges pal, and he dunnae truck with tartly dogberries. Know how I know? His servants are fuckin' hard and I mean log-up-the-arse hard. Live by t'anvil, die by t'anvil. Great artisans, even in that cockthroating heap o' gargle, Baldur's Gate. In that city, the Gondians have built Steel Watchers, huge buggers tah keep th'peace. Marvel they are. First time I saw one, almost passed oot from sheer fuckin' delight, so I did.
Gnomefather [The introduction of Gnomefather reads like this:] Most splendiferous, gregarious, and overall duplicitous of Gods (especially for the gnomes who embody those attributes quite cheerfully) is Garl Glittergold. A favourite phrase deployed at gnomish parties and suppers comes from Garl's reply to the mad prophet Osterfeld, who promised Garl the moon, the sun, and all the glinting stars if he could only answer three riddles. To which Garl said, 'Pull the other one. It has got bells on.'
Glory to the House of Oblodra It is said all House Oblodra perished when our estate was cast into the Clawrift. I am its last living daughter. Now the abyssal gulch in the heart of Menzoberranzan where our House was thrown is but an amusement. Priestesses make love to their men, bending them over its ledge, sometimes letting them fall. I will travel to the Rift's depths, to restore our lost home. I shall use the bones and gore of the useless, hapless men who were tossed into the pit to grow copies of the dead. Thus will I generate an obedient flesh army who will die for me and my house. If the rest of the Houses refuse to recognise House Oblodra's rise, I will use my explosive tinctures to blow the undersupports of the rest of Menzoberranzan to pieces, one section of the Clawrift at a time, until all the rest collapses. There I shall be Queen of my new swarm.
Glory of the Absolute Now come we in reverence before the ABSOLUTE and her True Souls, rejoicing in the Three Glories of Belonging, and revelling the Requital, for deeds duly done in the ABSOLUTE's name. Glory the first is our PURPOSE, filling us with determination to bring to all mortals the joy of reverence of the ABSOLUTE. Glory the second is our OBEDIENCE, the bliss of knowing that we exalt ourselves when we surrender our wills to the ABSOLUTE's commands. Glory the third is our DOMINION, for obedience to the ABSOLUTE places us above other mortals, and it is righteous to command them. And when through our obedience we have achieved dominion, the ABSOLUTE grants us permission for REQUITAL, revelry without restraint to express our joy and pride in the ABSOLUTE's service.
Ghustil Stornugoss' Research Notes [A massive compendium of notes documenting with clinical precision the dissection of over 200 illithid parasites, recorded in the common tongue.] Sample 231 Observations: External presentation consistent with previous samples, but intestinal colouration is not. Internal fluids also appear discoloured and infused with some sort of powerful magic. Magic type and purpose currently unknown. Notes: I need to spend some time reading about the magic in this land. My studies in Tu'narath, extensive as they are, do not cover whatever this magic is. These parasites are unusual - I will need to retrieve similarly unusual samples in order to deduce a pattern.
Gerringothe's Logbook [This messy financial ledger records an 'Import Tax' charged to merchants by the Reithwin tollhouse. The tax was clearly excessive, and included gems and jewellery in addition to gold. Several notes are scribbled on the final page.] trade slowing. merchants scared of ketheric. nervous of war. he WILL NOT take my due.
Garlow's Retirement Plan List of Things To Do: - Climb a tree - Have a truly exceptional sandwich - Spend a whole day reading - Visit Waterdeep - Get a massage - Swim in the Chionthar - Buy a new coat - Get a cat
Funerary Jar Form and Function [The upper part of this parchment describes the necromantic ritual spells employed to inhere portions of a creature's spirit within its extracted organs, and then sealing these spirit-infused organs inside funerary urns and hiding them to preserve the life force contained therein.] [The bottom of the parchment is crossed by a scrawl of crooked letters that decipher as follows.] A brilliant idea, but not an idea of genius such as the concept it inspires in me! Where better to hide such precious treasure than inside the animated body of a guardian who doesn't even know it's there?
Front and Centre: A Thespian's Memoir ...in fact, the greatest joy of my life hasn't been acting, but becoming. When you choose a character to play, you don't just wear a mask - you take a little of their soul for your own. Whoever you are in your heart of hearts changes, if only by the faintest mote.
Fringe Philosophy, Vol. V [The publisher's note claims this volume promotes magical theory too radical for the mainstream. This excerpt is attributed to High Artificer Taura Brinn of Baldur's Gate.] I suppose they seek to silence me, believing that an Artificer of the High House would not stoop to publish in any volume outside of the great Gondian journals they so diligently guard. But they forget that I am not so grand - before I lent my name and my knowledge to the High House of Wonders and all the marvels therein, I was naught but a lazy farm-girl who liked to look up. And that was how I first saw them - the slow and serene earthmotes, entire mountains migrating through the sky above. It was later I learned of their origins - of the ancient Netherese empire that fashioned them, of the residual magic so potent it sustained them still. The wizards of Netheril carved marvels out of the mundane, lifted the earth aloft for industry, for sport. It was later still, after I earned my place at the High House, that I learned of the long shadow Netheril cast along the evolution of our craft. That their great flying cities fell in folly and flames does not diminish the wonders they wrought, and this stubborn aversion to studying them, to learning what they learned, is the very antithesis of Gond's teachings. Yes, many of the catastrophes inflicted upon the centuries were fruit born of meddling with Netherese seed. Yes, their last shining bastion fell into shadow, their lore twisted to Shar's dark and destructive designs. And yes, I say again, whether the High House will sanction it or no - to study the very flame of creation is worth it, even should the fires consume us.
Forging Success [A self-help volume, purporting to help those prone to deceit and insincerity.] Let us speak plainly, dear reader. You may believe deception to be an artform - one that benefits you more than it harms you. But this is the worst lie of all - the self-deception that shall one day be your ruin. But how can you break the cycle? It can prove difficult to speak the truth when lies come so easily. Instead, perhaps do not speak at all. If you cannot be honest, then at least you can be silent. [The book continues on at great length, suggesting treatments pioneered by the House of Grief may help, should self-improvement fail.]
Forge Construction Log [This decaying tome details the scientific and arcane principles behind the great forge's construction. The results of multiple experiments are explained in exhausting detail.] Hammer Test 2.5.66.8 The forge is functional, but operating at a scant one-third of its full potential. At current fractalisation values, the Hammer can force various iron alloys into moulds, but adamantine remains unmoved and unmarked. Increasing levels of hypo-torque to 6.94. Doubling magma heat values. Hammer Test 2.6.70.0 Test unsuccessful. So hot was the magma that the adamantine shattered entirely under the force of the Hammer. The properties of super-heated adamantine are intriguing, but I seek to mould it, not to crush it. Maintaining hypo-torque levels. Reducing magma heat values by one-fifth.
Folksongs of Faerûn [The book is a clear work in progress though already extensive, chronicling various musical styles and notation from across Faerûn. Amid the orderly symbols and blackened ink, one page stands out. It is awash in colour and meandering arcs. The script below reads:] Myconid Song By Oghma, I hear it AND I see it AND I know it AND I feel it. But I can't write it. Or can I?
Flumph Mating Rituals [See: The Great Furnace of Grymforge]
Flow of the Chionthar [Here you find a rich history of the Chionthar River. Evidently it flowed through half a dozen settlements, more and more springing up over time, and the picture this book evokes is that lasts a hundred years, one of barges drifting over the orange water under a burning autumn sky, and the barges smelling of casked wine, salted pork, exciting spices, less exciting spices like rosemary, which is still fragrant and nice but, altogether, not terribly exciting, and children running barefoot by the banks, waving to the grinning, sweating sailors from their play among the river reeds.]
Flora of the Dalelands [You flick through meticulously illustrated pages, listing plants, their uses, and how best to harvest them. The book is in immaculate condition, obviously well-cared for, but on one page you find a hastily scribbled note in the margins of an entry.] Kelemvor's Kiss A briar that grows in the darkest forests of Shadowdale. Its thorn secretes a poison that can kill in hours. Strong victims have lasted up to two days. Although deadly, this poison is shunned by some, as its effects are painless. To treat, boil bundle of mugwort in cauldron of theriac, blessed by Silvanus. Consume at once. Hope for his mercy.
Flophouse Tenants Logs [Scrawled records of guests cover pages stained with ink, grease, and gods-know what else.] Name: Bernyr Stay: Indefinite Paid 'til: tenday hence Name: Ffion Goldgrind Stay: One Month Paid 'til: TENDAY LATE! Name: Grishka Stay: Unsure Paid 'til: five nights hence Name: Rosanna Stay: "Short as bloody possible" Paid 'til: two nights hence
Flophouse Rules TO ALL TENANTS OF FRAYGO'S FLOPHOUSE, PLEASE OBSERVE THE FOLLOWING EDICTS AND ASSOCIATED COSTS WITH CAREFUL, STEADFAST ATTENTION 1. Fold sheets neat across bunks before leaving (2 GP) 2. No big smells! (3 GP) 3. No tipping janitorial staff - he gets paid plenty (5 GP) 4. No outside food eaten inside (2 GP) 5. NO marks left on latrine - EVER
Flophouse Issues [A record of work done to Fraygo's Flophouse.] - Latrine polish: 9 SP - Floor restructure: 12 GP - Rug delousing: 2 GP - Extensive top floor extension: 20 GP - Floorboard de-mossing: 6 SP
Flintdigger's Abridged Dwarven History [A compendium of dwarf history, recording the shifting fortunes of clans and kingdoms over centuries. There are pages of dates, noting important battles, births, and deaths. One in particular, 1356, is circled with a note scribbled beneath.] 1356 In this year, Bruenor Battlehammer did face the shadow dragon Shimmergloom, slaying the beast and claiming his rightful place as the Eighth King of Mithral Hall. Important: Don't forget to change the code in a tenday!
Flask of Light Today in the Elfsong, Nikros sat down across from me bold as you like. I gave him this recipe, just to see that smile of his. His face lit up, eyes twinkling, but that soothing feeling I'd hoped for didn't come. My skin just prickled painfully, as it always does. RECIPE for 1 Flask of Light Extracts Needed: - Essence of Nightlight - Suspension of Laculite. Method: Sieve the Nightlight into the Laculite. Stir with a copper stylus. Exert patience (presuming you were born with a ready supply), and lo, the solution will begin to glow with a bright and dancing light. As always: When in doubt with alchemy Just recall the rule of three Thrice the same ingredient Forms an extract excellent Funny. Writing that helpful little rhyme made my jaw clench tight. It hurt. [A small annotation on this copy reads: 'Lenore, found this recipe and (surprise, surprise) you leapt into my head. Hope you find a little light among the shadows. I'm sure you will, though none as bright as you. - Yrre']
Flaming Fist New Recruit Booklet To: All members and associates of the Flaming Fist From: Gauntlet Edwynna You've read the Flaming Fist Companion. You've had your welcomes, learned your histories. You might think you're here to uphold justice, to protect the meek and the innocent, to follow in the footsteps of the great Eltan. Forget all of it. Every damned word. Baldurians are not 'meek and innocent', and the only justice most of them deserve is the blunt end of a club. Every last one is either a criminal already or one theft away from becoming one. Don't trust a soul, because they sure as the Hells don't trust you. And to that, I say 'good'. They shouldn't. They should shiver when they see you coming, keep their eyes on the ground when you pass. Fear leads to order. Order leads to peace. This is your duty, no matter what Ulder Ravengard, Liara Portyr, or any other supposed 'bastion of justice' might tell you.
Flaming Fist History Flaming Fist's Companion Congratulations on your selection to the Flaming Fist Mercenary Company. The nature of our operation requires us to display a level of commitment, maturity, and teamwork that best represents the ideals of our founder, Grand Duke Eltan. Eltan's fierce leadership and unwavering commitment to justice shaped the Flaming Fist into a formidable force against Baldur's Gate's criminal underbelly. Known for his strategic acumen and innovative tactics, Eltan moulded the Flaming Fist into the highly efficient and fearsome organisation it is today. [A messy depiction of Duke Eltan appears beneath in an obvious attempt to obscure words that had been written beneath. You can make out a few: 'Iron', 'Sarevok', 'crisis', among others.] Duke Eltan's spirit lives in us all as Flaming Fist soldiers. I am confident you will find this assignment professionally challenging and personally rewarding. Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard, Marshal of the Flaming Fist
Five (Or Six) Heroes An easy-to-read children's book about an unlikely team of heroes who band together to defend a forest gnome village against marauding gnolls. The raiders are driven away, the village is saved, the comical sidekick gets engaged to a gnomish beekeper, and virtue is triumphant.'
Fine at Home: A Cookery Book A Feast for a Tenday The following recipe requires a day or more to make; inform your servants to cook the sauce the day before, then again for some time on the day on which it is to be consumed. The earth and comforting flavours will thus have time to blend. INGREDIENTS: - 2 spoons of oil, olive - 1 unit of pork ribs or meaty pork neck bones - 5 cloves garlic, chopped - 1 large onion, diced - 1 punnet or mushrooms, sliced - 1.5 units ground beef - 1 cup high quality crushed tomatoes - 4 unit of tomatoes, preserved by canning - 1 small spoon of sugar - 2 dried bay leaves - 1 large pinch dried oregano - Salt and pepper, to taste - Crushed red pepper, to taste - 2 sprigs fresh basil - 2 sprigs fresh parsley DIRECTIONS: Stoke your furn to a high heat. Meanwhile, pat the pork dry, season with salt and pepper, and drizzle with oil. Place into a pan and bake in furn until deep golden brown. Set aside. Heat remaining olive oil in large, heavy pot. Fry chopped onions and mushrooms over medium heat and season. Do not allow them to brown overmuch. Add crumbled beef and cook until coloured, stirring. Season with salt, pepper, and oregano. Add chopped garlic and cook a very short time, then add tomatoes, salt, sugar, crushed red pepper, and bork, still on the bone. Add bay leaves, basil, parsley, and bring to a low simmer. Simmer as such for the better part of an afternoon - three chimes of the bell will do. Remove the pork to cool, then remove meat from bones and discard any fat or gristle. Shred the meat and return it to the sauce. Taste for further seasoning. When you are satisfied with the flavour, cool thoroughly and place in your cold storage to mature overnight. Serve the next day with your choice of accoutrement; this chef prefers pasta, plenty of hard, salty cheese, hard-boiled eggs, and a crisp, green salad on the side.
Findings from the Hinterlands - New Edition Esteemed Reader, While this journal is no stranger to surprising news from the outermost reaches of our fair land, I must warn that this season's edition contains news some might find, in a word, shocking. It might be that the 'cult of the Absolute' reported by our agents in Elturgard will fade like any other, but reports of alliances between goblin and Lolth-sworn drow, troll and duergar, are a particular cause for alarm. The seriousness of the enclosed report is quite unique in our history. Prior to publication, messengers were sent to localities including Baldur's Gate, Scornubel, and Candlekeep. Let us hope these reports are received with the proper gravity, for the safety of all. Sincerely, Mingus Etcherly Editor-in-Chief
Fiendish Bestiary ['Fiendish Fauna': an attempt to catalogue the many varied life-forms that daily do battle on the front lines of the Blood War. The section on category of devil alone dominates most of the book's bulk.]
Fiendish Alchemy ['Fiendish Flora': This tome lists the few forms of plant life known to grow in Avernus. Most are thought to sprout from the vital fluids of the countless devils and demons regularly slaughtered on the Blood War's battlefields.]
Ffion's Journal He's getting worse. The whispers, the night terrors, the blood. I know he's hiding something. And the others in the Flophouse know it too. I've seen how they look at him - how they look at me. They're scared of him. And I can't blame them.. I am too.
Faldorn's Canticle: The Shadow Druids' Doctrine [This book's spine is limber from overuse. The corner of one page is folded inwards.] Balance is a myth. Where any clan treads, nature struggles. Unity is a fiction. Men of mere flesh seek only to tame beast and raze flora. We are the thunder, and we are the rain. We shatter mankind, and grow new life in its place.
Faded Logbook (Selûnite, 182) [Most of this small logbook is left empty. The last entry reads:] Log 182. I was wrong. Should have paid more attention to the drow sightings. Should have known they were only a prelude. Stupid to think we had outsmarted them. This will be my last entry. Mynthe will keep the records from now on.
Faded Logbook (Selûnite, 124) Log 124. Signs of life near the outpost. Intelligent. Clearly trying to hide. Log 125. Still can't find the mysterious shapes. They know how to cover their tracks. Possibly drow. [The next few entries are too faded to read.] Log 129. Led them south. Rumours of a spectator there. Let the Underdark solve its own problems. Log 130. No sightings. Log 131. Log 132. Mythe saw statues down south, shaped like drow. Spectators shouldn't do that. Either way, that's one less problem to worry about.