Research Journal №5

The Room is circular, ringing around the room walls are statues, most too worn away to be recognizable. Save a statue of Garyx, cleanser of worlds, a great red wyrm. Besides it sits an altar, marked with a twin flame bearing an eye in the center of it. The sit to the right of the entrance. To the left lies an unmarked altar and an incomplete statue.

Through the center of the room is six book shelves, arranged to make a smaller circle open on either end. The center holds an arcane looking orb, it is smoking and impossible to glean much on the use.

Past the shelves, stands a spirit clearly Kobold. It seems to faintly pick up presence but cannot hear. It asks "Orias, is that you?" Regardless of what one replies, it seems to see through you and replies "I have been faithful Orias... so very faithful..."

Behind this spirit, lies a tome, open to a page. The language is Undercommon, but it is an archaic version and written with a shaky hand.

"She is slain and no help can come for us now. Who was this foul wyrm that took her life? Was it coincidence or did the warm-bloods offer tribute for the deed to be done? Her killer will not receive us and has closed the link. Orias! Return to us! Cheat death and give us all that was promised!

I am the last and if I step without they will surely kill me. Even now they tear down what was centuries in the making. They slay the living and break the eggs of those yet to hatch. The Sevateem will be forgotten, to die eternal like our great mistress. The drow so not even take slaves, this is no longer a battle but a purge and there is no doubt that the fledgling city of Udos Dro'Xun will grow to be the one true power of this region. They are too strong, too cruel, surrender means nothing to the followers of the Spider Queen and we are now lost.

Not content to forge the future they rewrite history, they cut away all we ever were.

I see their matrons order that not one treasure, not one relic is to be taken from this place. All is cast into the boiling sea or destroyed. A few escaped, hatchlings for the most part, Sancreev the Old has taken them to the surface, he tells that what future they have is there now, existing like savages among a sun-land swarming with goblins. There is no glory, no great dream to light their way. Sancreev says he will see they forget their past, their home, his wisdom speaks that in order to survive they must cut all ties to what was, so as the drow will never again continue their war against our brood.

Orias, I still believe in you, with all torn away all that is left is my faith. I will wait here, dutiful, until your return. You will come back from death and slay your killer and then you will slay our own.

Bear witness to my belief, to my faith, I grow faril cold and hungry, but still I wait, still I do not doubt that come my dying breath you will swoop down and take me away in your claws. Together we will right all the wrongs done to us.

So tired, I can write no longer. I will sleep for a time. Wake me when you come Orias?"

Recorded by Elennei Sh'yalva 25th of Uktar, AR 181