Rytheran's Journal

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Rytheran's Untranslated Journal

This journal was taken from Lord Rytheran's private sanctum. It is written in the runes of ancient Dericost and is unreadable to the untrained eye.

Special Properties: Attuned, Bonded
Pretranslation Author: Lord Rytheran
Translator: Danira the Dusty
Translator Speech:

You give Danira the Dusty Rytheran's Untranslated Journal

Danira the Dusty tells you, "You recovered Rytheran's Journal? Excellent!"
Danira briefly skims the pages of Dericostian runes.
Danira the Dusty tells you, "Unfortunate... The journal provides little information about where he has hidden the Book of Eibhil. I suppose it was too much to hope for. Still, this book has done much to illuminate the undead lord's thinking, and it shows us he is intimately involved with the ley line disturbances and the rise of the graveyard... Oh, what has Rytheran unleashed?"
Danira the Dusty tells you, "I thank you for this. I'll provide you with a translation of the text, for your own edification, and some practical knowledge "
Danira gives you Rytheran's Journal

You've earned 247,696,546 experience.

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Rytheran's Journal

This is a translation of the journal found in Lord Rytheran's Private Sanctum.

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It is at times like these that I most miss the presence of my beloved Lady, the fairest light of the Eternal Court, my helpmate and advisor in all important decisions since we first entered into that agreement with His Eternal Splendor. Perhaps, my lost lady love, if we had not been apart, you with your ageless eye and limitless wisdom would have been able to see the flaws in this plan... I have not felt this afraid and uncertain since the day when we stood together at Ayn Tayan, ready to confront the Hopeslayer and the oblivion he represented.

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I used the book. It was not my idea, not at first. His Eternal Splendor simply wished to visit unique and eternal torments upon the Mhoires and in particular on that troublesome jester who served them. As a leader of the Winds from Darkness, it seemed an irresistible opportunity to me, to grasp true world-altering power and to feel it bend to my will. So I agreed to open a single page of the Book of Eibhil and use the terrible power contained with its maddening runes to inflict eternal torment upon the enemies of my eternal King. I confess that I saw an opportunity to grasp more power for myself, as well. I was so caught up in the possibilities, I was blinded, as I rarely am, to the consequences.

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We, the First-Born of Dericost, are prideful in our age. We have lived as we are, part of this world yet forever sundered from it, for ten thousand years. We have watched the struggles of the Yalain and laughed at their over-reaching, even as we mourned our own lands that fell to the insect plague that they unleashed. We have sneered at the mortal minions of the last Yalain even as our most treasured bastions surrendered their secrets to these ubiquitous creatures. It may have been too long since we, the First-Born, felt the humiliation of over-reaching and realized ourselves to be but minor pieces in a game larger than we can comprehend.

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Even as my memories of Menilesh and my love for Aerfalle dwindle, the last emotion that stirs my empty heart may be shame. Shame that I allowed myself to be so duped by the Book, the Book that we knew to be derived from the primal darkness that the Falatacot found so enthralling, the darkness which eventually overcame them. So adept have I become at whispering destructive temptation into the dreams of mortal fools that I did not recognize, until too late, that I was fooled by the whispered blandishments of the Old Ones. Because as I grasped the power that they offered through the Book, even so was I snared in a trap far older than the First-Born.

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The use of the Book by such an unprepared and unhallowed hand as mine has created a flaw. There is a new crack in the foundation, a new seam in the fabric of creation. It will not arise now, or even in a thousand years, but it will arise, when the conditions on this troubled island of Killiakta are right. There will be a crack in the invisible lines through which flow the Blood of the World that the primal chaos at the core of the world will exploit. I will do my best to bury this graveyard of tormented Mhoires deep in the ground, protected and concealed with all the wards at my disposal, to conceal the flaw for as long as I can. But the servants of the Old Ones always find a way.

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Some day the power that I brushed upon will be unleashed into the world. Even as I plot to hide the evidence of my mistake, I must also make plans for the future. I will take the Book of Eibhil out of my library and hide it - so that only my eternal sovereign will be able to reach it. And I will notify certain agents of mine that a time will come when the Blood of the World will be spilled and all sensitives will war for control of its flow. I must prepare them for the fight that is inevitable. They are good and loyal servants, and deserving of a better master.

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-- Lord Rytheran