Mort's Journal Vol. 1

Writings from the Scorched Campaign

If you’re reading this I’m either dead or you’re a nosy piece of shit. Hopefully it’s the latter. Given the recent events that have transpired I’m keeping a journal.

After years of research, experiments, murdering, and looting dusty ruins I’m finally on the right track! Multiple documents and scrolls I’ve come across keep referencing these Vaults of Drystan. Who, or where Drystan is I have no clue. The references themselves are vague and even appear redacted in some instances. Some serious shit must have gone on in these vaults. But it’s the only common link I have from my evidence from the founding of the spellplague.

Everyone thinks the spellplague is some kind of curse from the gods, or a blessing to crazy cults, or just the lingering effects from massive magical release. My theory is that it’s none of the above. If I’m right, which I probably am, spellplague was engineered in the Old Empire. They imbued damn near everything with magic that they could, so why not try to find ways to give themselves more natural abilities? In what proof I do have it seems they were using some sort of special crystals within these vaults that would act as a conduit for magical energy. I don’t have the details but I need to find more. I absolutely MUST find this vault.

Beth would have wanted me to.

Weeks I’ve spent mulling over dusty tomes and drowning in whiskey. Nobody has heard of these fucking vaults. Not even local treasure hunters have any idea about it. Why should they anyway. They didn’t do the exhaustive research. They didn’t nearly die multiple times just to get a shred of paper that said something remotely accurate. Picking the bones of the Old Empire would have eaten these rookies.

Maybe I’m looking at this the wrong way. If I need to find something that can’t be found, maybe I need to find something that can find it.

I’ll need a few fresh bottles. Time to hit the books again.

Fuckin’ A! I got it! I didn’t even have to go to the University and deal with the uptight wizard bureaucrats that run that place. They aren’t fond of warlocks anyway. But I found something that will definitely find the Vaults of Drystan!

It’s called the Compass of Desire. Well, not “the” Compass of Desire but “a” Compass of Desire. Looks like they made a few of them back in the old days. Someone has to have one lying around that they’d be willing to part with for a price. I’ll send out some letters and see who I know that would have one. I should know something soon enough.

Thatherton. Julius mother fucking Thatherton. Of course it was him. Turns out he’s got one of these things collecting dust in that massive underground manor of his somewhere. That prick has stolen every single success from me that I’ve had. And now he’s living fat off of the salt mines in Harrar.

Unfortunately, he wants some cargo moved. He’s got a shipment of gods know what sitting in a warehouse in Gnosis that he wants me personally to deliver to him in exchange for the compass. The damn thing is near worthless to him and he sees it as a chance to get some shit for him shipped in on the cheap. So now I have to risk my ass and my skiff making a run to Harrar to get this thing. I guess I’ve been worse places these past few months.

I can’t do this alone. I’ve reached a point where I think I need some companions for this trip. I’ll hire em on for gold, sure. That I’m in no short supply of these days. Let’s just hope they prove themselves worthy for the coming journey ahead. Shit’s about to get rough.

We’re on our way now. I’ve hired 3 hands. A dwarf named Friar Artemis who brews some damn good ale and also happens to be a cleric. One hell of a combo if you ask me. Then there’s some high elf called Ondo. He’s a better skiff pilot than me though and what do you know he’s a cleric too! I sure as hell won’t be dying on this trip. And then there’s the wood elf. Fuckin’… Dunestrider or some such shit. He’s one of those Way of the Road monks who’s out there to make a name for himself. Probably got kicked out of the woods for being an asshole or whatever it is that elves do in their enclave. Despite that they seem like a capable bunch. Here’s to hoping they don’t murder me in my sleep or something.

We made it to Vaardö in one piece. Turns out these guys can handle themselves. They made work of some Bloodtusks and a group of 2 daggers! I’m impressed. They even upgraded the skiff with scavenged parts from the others. I think I’ll stick with these guys for a while. I’m still gonna pay them but they seem like a good bunch. We’ll rest here for a day or so and get a move on. Maybe we’ll find another person here, maybe not.

We’re one step closer to the Vaults of Drystan. All I can hope for now is that Julius Thatherton doesn’t fuck us over.


Looking forward to getting hold of that compass.

Thanks for the write up. I understand it all better now.

Mort's Journal Vol. 1

I forgot to add that technically I’m a half-elf, but yes one half of me is High elf.

Mort's Journal Vol. 1

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