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Book Draft - Volume III ['Volume Three' is written in bold on the front. The title 'The Cost of Sorrow' is followed by a number of question marks.] 'But why?' Roa screams, the beast within barely contained. 'Why follow Shar? Why destroy Moonhaven?' Ketheric stares down [haughtily? cruelly?] at Roa as he steps over the bodies of Harpers and druids alike. 'Shar knows all.' He smiles [maliciously?]. 'She gave me a holy mission. I'm merely fulfilling it.' 'The people of Moonhaven trusted you!' Roa cries, his anger rising. 'How could you turn your Dark Justiciars on them?' Ketheric smiles, 'They needed the target practice. Can't have Shar's elite getting rusty, now can we? As for you...' a crescent blade appears in his [cruel?] hands. 'You are but one lone druid, Roa. Who are you to stand against me?' Roa forces himself to his feet, Silvanus' fury coursing through him. 'I'm your downfall. Today you die, Ketheric!'
Book Draft - Volume II [This seems to be the second volume in a series written by an amateur novelist. The title on the cover, 'Love in Shadowed Lands', is crossed out.] The ebony-haired woman notices Roa's gaze and crosses the grove, [winking? smiling?] as she stands by the druid's side. 'I don't usually wear it out in the open,' she says, tapping the brooch on her cloak, a crescent moon and harp pinned to her chest. 'Except for special occasions.' 'What's a Harper doing in a grove of Silvanus?' Roa asks. 'Not just one.' She gestures to a group by the sacred pool. 'We're generally more cloak and dagger,' she continues, 'thwarting tyrants and [guarding? protecting?] the realm is best done in secret. But you lot have a fight on your hands. We're here to help.' 'Since when do the Emerald Enclave need a bunch of Harpers?' Roa says. 'You haven't heard?' She laughs, her laugh tinkling like a bell. 'Strap in, sweetie. We're about to take on Dark Justiciars, their demented leader Ketheric Thorm and, if we're very lucky, Shar herself.'
Book Draft - Volume I [Neatly written chapters fill this journal. A list of what appears to be book publishers in Baldur's Gate are on the first page. The cover has a multitude of titles, all crossed out: 'The Unforeseen Alliance, volume 1', 'Druids and Harpers, a fight for good!', 'The Shadowed Evil: who dares to stand against it?'] Our hero, the [brave? mighty?] druid Roa arrives in the grove. When he received the summons from the Emerald Enclave, he knew something was afoot. Filled with druids and rangers alike, members of the Enclave are scattered across the realm. They fight to preserve the natural order, keep the elemental forces of the world in check, and do battle with those who would upset this delicate balance. They are fierce warriors, though none as fierce as Roa. Built like [an ox? A bear?], he stands head and shoulders above the crowd. The grove is buzzing with activity. Roa spots a beautiful woman with ebony hair flowing past her shoulders, her eyes as blue as a [summer's day? bluebird?]. His smile turns to a frown as he notices the crescent moon and harp pinned to her chest. By Silvanus, what was a Harper doing here?
Bonded By Love - Wife's Diary In the fifth year of our union, we faced the biggest hurdle yet: My parents became quite ill, and we became their caretakers. It was a dark and difficult time, filled with emergencies of every possible type. Gone were the easeful days in which our time was our own, our days were filled with work, each other, and little else. During our darkest moments, I wondered if we'd survive it. But the bond of love we had was resilient; it could bend and bend and bend but would not break, no matter the pressure.
Bonded By Love - Husband's Diary Entry 47: We're being attacked. My brave, beautiful Miranda volunteered to fight - she says it's her duty as a cleric of Shar. I can't bear the thought of anything happening to her, but I know she'd be angry if I said anything. I'll pray to our Lady to keep her safe. Entry 48: Miranda woke me in full armour - a smile on her face. She got down on one knee and proposed, a beautiful obsidian ring in her hand. Of course, I said yes! As a cleric, she was able to marry us then and there, blessing the rings as she slipped them on our fingers. I'm terrified for her, but I'm also so happy - I knew she loved me. I knew it! Entry 49: Miranda faced down an entire troop of Harpers, killing every last one. She didn't have a scratch on her - blessed be the Lady of Loss! I tried to prepare a celebratory meal for her, but I had a dizzy spell. Blood poured from my nose, and Miranda found me passed out on the floor. She told me to rest, and not to bother going to the House of Healing - that it was likely the stress. She's right, but I'm still scared. Entry 50: I know Miranda said not to, but I went to the House of Healing. Blood leaks from my nose and ears, and there's strange wounds all over my body. The nurse kept asking about my ring, and when I told her Miranda and myself just got married, she looked at me strangely. When I asked her what was wrong, she sent me home - telling me not to come back. There are black spots in my vision, and I can't feel my legs. What is wrong with me? What is happening?
Bloody Journal [Though originally a screed on Lolth penned in blood, this book's crimson script has been smeared away in several places, a different hand writing atop it:] I recall my life upon the surface with more than regret. I weep for the decades spent treading the murky waters of profanity while my true Queen waited in the shadows. Even my name, ‘Eliette’, feels foreign and foul upon my tongue. ... A high elf exalted by Lolth herself - my drow captors cannot fathom it. But I see their house's downfall in visions granted by the Spider Queen herself. When that day comes, when some unnamed whelp from an insignificant house cuts the matron mother's throat, I will escape. I will find solitude, and I will worship Lolth with my very soul.
Bloodied Journal [The most recent entry in this journal is written in an angry, sloping script.] I'm gonna stab that bard in the EYE. It turns out he knows where sis is hiding our coin. She hasn't even told me! Her own flesh and blood! When I told sis she promised I can kill him once the job is done, which makes sense I 'spose - she's the boss for a reason. I'll just have to sharpen my blades in the meantime. I'm gonna start with that tongue of his, I reckon...
Blood-Smeared Logbook [A ledger detailing the appearance and quality of numerous gemstones that had been mined from rock. Weight, colour, clarity and more are noted next to a sketch of each stone. An underlined entry for a sizeable ruby is written in shaky, excited quill strokes.]
Blood-Envy for the Unworthy Oh, my stupid slaughter kin. How many thousands will you mutilate before you learn to make their blood spill worthy of Father's altar? You deceive your god with these mindless flayings, and our temple, no my temple, decays because of it. It can't be so. It mustn't be so. The favourite of Bhaal must be one worthy of his name. One who serves him, and only him. If you insist on shouldering the yoke of these other so-called Chosen, then I will craft you a better one. A worm, to make you mindless as the altar-meat you butcher. And I will restore this temple in Bhaal's true image. A glorious vision, built atop your festering corpse.
Blood Bank Log BLOOD AND BODILY FLUID LOG Addendum the First: It is no longer necessary to log names. Race or creature type is sufficient. - MT Adendum the Second: You will use either the term 'donor' or 'vessel' when describing a source of extraction. 'Victim' is an ugly and inaccurate word. Name: [REDACTED] Race: Half-Elf Occupation: Farmer Cause of Death: Extremity amputation Extraction Fluid: Blood Notes: Cadaver dumped in canal Race: Human Occupation: Unknown Cause of Death: Live extraction Extraction Fluid: Blood, lymph, spinal fluid Notes: Refused toll payment. Cadaver cremated after extraction. Name: UNKNOWN Race: Ogre Occupation: Cause of Death: Fatal wounds to skull and torso Extraction fluid: Blood Notes: Corpse confiscated by Balthazar [The list continues for many pages.]
Bhaal Cult Resurgence A Report by Devella Fountainhead: Pursuant to an investigative order from Blaze Liara Portyr, a cross-indexing of points of similarity in unsolved murders in Baldur's Gate leads to the inescapable conclusion that we are witnessing a resurgence of the cult of the murder god Bhaal. As the textbooks tell us, over 100 years ago, during the 1360s, the criminal organisation known as the Iron Throne was taken over by a brutal new leader, Sarevok Anchev. This Sarevok provided to be what is called a 'Bhaalspawn', and with the powers granted by his semi-divine blood he nearly brought ruin upon the entire city before his defeat by the hero known as Gorion's Ward. After that, the Iron Throne was brought down, the Bhaal Temple was suppressed, and the murder cult receded into the background. Now, however, corpses that bear the hallmark of Bhaalist murders are once again being discovered in Baldur's Gate's streets, several per tenday, and the rate is increasing. Citizens are anxious, some on the verge of panic, and the proud Flaming Fist corps, which usually depends on a show of force to discourage criminal activity, now finds our usual methods unsuccessful. The location of the old Bhaal Temple in the ruins of the Undercity has now been lost, so a raid is out of the question. Recommendation: a Bhaal Murder Response Force should be organised as soon as feasible to provide a visible reaction to cultist incursions in the Lower City.
Beheading the Bitterroots The Grymforge region is an important chokepoint, as it controls access to Moonrise Towers via the Underdark, but Grymforge is occupied by the duergar Bitterroot Clan. Though not numerous, these duergar are a band of tough combatants, and could prove inconvenient obstacles should we need to move military assets quickly through the region. These duergar must be neutralised. Accordingly, let a team of Orin's crack doppelganger assassins be assigned the task of killing King Guerdon, the monarch of the Bitterroot Clan. After the assassination, the team is to gather Guerdon's head and especially his crown, before ensuring that both are hurled into the Fathomless Depths. The Bitterroots, unable to crown a new king, will fracture into quarrelling subclans, the leaders of which can one by one be tadpoled. - Disciple Z'rell on the behalf of General Ketheric
Battle Plans [A yellowed manual outlining stuffy combat forms. Fig has added her own embellishments and looping, colourful drawings of her family members. One last entry stands out, an angry face in a perfect circle shouting:] GO FOR THE EYES
Barkskin Recipe Frivolity gave me a glimmer of hope today. I took precious time away from research into the platinum scale to help a gnome. Her guinea pig was trapped in bramble and briar, and the gnome wanted something to toughen her skin. I helped her, and the gnome kissed my raw, scaleless hand and left in good cheer. RECIPE for 1 Elixir of Barkskin Extracts needed: --- Salts of Gnarled Tree Bark --- Suspension of either Mud Mephit Wing or Laculite Method: Combine and shake. That should do it. When in doubt with alchemy Help a desperate guinea pig Pluck him from the thorny sprig Then serve him up his tea My success with barkskin has led me down an avenue of experimentation that could cloak my aching body in scales of hard, shining platinum. Writing is harder with my left hand. The right one - the one the gnome kissed - is seized in a claw of agony. Generally my pain is abominable, but for the first time in a while I have it! I do!! Hope!!! [A small note was added to this edition of the text. It simply reads: 'I saved my guinea pig!']
Barcus' Log Locations of Interest: - Elfsong Tavern - Blushing Mermaid - Moonhaven Ruins - Underdark Wulbren - likely taken by force. Interview unsavoury elements known and unknown. I WILL find him. Dear ____ (Wulbren's mother - her name?), I write to enquire - I write to inform - I write in relation to - Flames Two flames in the - 34,5 x 948 1.000 3 445 90
Bane's Book of Admonitions [A book of adages and precepts for Banites, providing the basic tenets of worship of the Lord of Tyranny, with suggested prayers for common situations. The heart of the book is Bane's Twelve Admonitions, a dozen rules for proper Banite conduct, with punishments specified for failure to comply. The book opens easily to a page with two of Bane's most popular admonitions, number six, the Reprimand for Leniency, and number seven, the Rebuke for False Compassion.]
BAN LIST BARRED FROM ENTRY The following EX-customers are UNWELCOME. Do not let them in, even should they beg. ESPECIALLY should they beg. Martin Doughty - human? - chug-and-run Adam Smythe - lascivious behaviour, also known as 'The Pickle Incident' Gerringothe Thorm - SHE KNOWS WHAT SHE DID Kavin Ort - tall dwarf - exceedingly boring Syrah Bee - short half-elf - vomited on the waiter (purposefully) Unknown elf - pale skin, snide mouth - referring to master distiller as 'the porcine publican' Rochelle Kwark - halfling - groin-punching Yon Von Don (suspected alias) - grotesquely tall human - underpants on head
Balthazar's Notes [Experimental notes written in Balthazar's precise hand.] His obvious deficiencies aside, it cannot be denied that young Gortash has the mind of a scientist. Before his latest invention, the illithid library was no more than rows of brains swimming in the cerebral slop. With his device, we no longer need psionic power to access the memories contained within - only to insert the subject and speak to it directly. I do wish he were not so eager in testing the device on more recent subjects of his own, however - nor in leaving their skull shavings scattered along my workbench.
Balthazar Personal Notes: 3 Requests from the next caravan: - Any works by Mordenkainen: must catch up on current events (NO Volo - better a century of ignorance) - hin vellum: holds ink like no other (could harvest from an acolyte?) - new copy of 'Swift and Sudden Death' for library: current volume badly scorched.
Balthazar Personal Notes: 2 Note: install a drain beneath library's 'Conventional Medicine' shelf. It's wasteful to let all that blood seep through the flagstones, and it will rust the spikes besides. [A line slashes through the above, the same hand in fresh ink below:] Disregard. The smell gives me sweet dreams.
Balduran the Sailor [Excerpt from Zeinzifel's swashbuckling novel] Not long after he'd waylaid passage across the straits on the Good Ship Sapphiren, Balduran found himself beaten and strapped to an oar. Quick-thinking Balduran spent not two days at that oar before he had staged a mutiny. Soon the masters found themselves rowing, and the slaves (captured sailors all) were the new crew of the ship. Modest as ever, Balduran did not assume the role of captain. Instead he played a lyre and entertained the crew, further attracting the attention of some extremely generous merfolk, from whom most of the crew contracted various embarrassing rashes. Escaping the merfolk with his skin as clear and pure as ever, Balduran had the crew trawl the water, for he had been told by a raving but oddly coherent soothsayer that there might be treasure found there. Indeed there was, only its disturbance caused a nearby kraken with jaws like apertures to the very gates of hell! Balduran's treasure revealed itself to contain a sword, and he took it up and leapt from the stern, disappearing down the monster's gullet, only to give it a fatal case of indigestion thereafter...
Baldur's Gate Temple Of Bhaal A report for Lord Gortash by Scribe Yanthus Your humble servant must report a failure in his assigned task of determining the location of the Bhaal Temple. Its location is known in a general sense: it's in the haunted, tumbledown subterranean complex usually called the Undercity Ruins. But though these ruins are said to be accessible from Baldur's Gate's sprawling sewer system, accounts differ on the location of this access point. Even if one could find a way into the ruins, they are extensive and the temple's location within them is no longer certain. The temple was last active during the time of the Bhaalist leader Sarevok, over a century ago, and is said to have fallen into disuse after his passing. I shall report to the Disciplinarian to expiate my failure.
Baldur's Gate Protectors [The pages contain an elaborately illustrated story about a fictitious vigilante Flaming Fist called 'The Fixer' thwarting criminal schemes in Baldur's Gate.] 'About time you showed up,' The Fixer growled. His voice was like an ogre's footsteps on Lower City gravel: harsh, hostile, and wholly unmistakeable. The figure stepped forward. Another member of the Fist, an elf known only as Ghost - a master of stealth, forever one step ahead yet ten leaps behind. His left eye was missing; his right eye was haunted by horrors that would leave an ordinary thief raving mad. 'Don't act like I kept you waiting,' Ghost whispered. 'The Guild's nabbed Lady Durinbold's daughter. Word from the inside is Nine-Fingers demanded ransom - and she's planning on just returning the girl's head when Durinbold forks the gold over.' The Fixer nodded, his eyes ablaze with a fire that would have scorched even an archdevil. 'Let's pay them a little visit', he said, a hint of a sadistic smile playing on his lips.
Baldur's Gate and the Dialectics of Plunder [An excerpt on page 37 is circled in red.] There can be no doubt that the patriar families of the Upper City affect such an air of reserve and respectability because they are all too aware that their fortunes are founded on bloodshed, pillage, and exploitation. No one speaks now of Xeremiah Eltan, who founded the Flaming Fist as a ruthless mercenary company that slaughtered and burned for pay along the entire length of the Sword Coast. No one mentions Baronne Ilza Bormul and the blood-spattered ingots shipped north from her slave-labour mines in the mountains of Amn. The schoolbooks don't mention Bogo Sashenstar's Bone Flotilla that plundered Aster Cove and abducted the port's entire population.
Baldur's Bones [Oddly enough not a novel about necromancy, but rather a dice game that has clattered across thousands of tables in the city of Baldur's Gate. The rules involve making a pirate (most ape Balduran the sailor, but you can invent your own) and rolling thirty-seven-sided- dice called Unfortunables. These are rolled against a chart of outcomes, the interpretation of which is controlled by one player who has not made a pirate, titled Unfortunate One. These fictional pirates tend to have grisly ends, because the chart is cruel, and the dice, oh, the dice are worse...]
Bagida's Diary I need to rest. I will make it, but if I don't, let these words tell my story. The curse came. Most ran - my Ron included. But I'd spent too long in the trenches of this town building up what little I had to let it go. Took what I could in the barrow and followed. I was slower but I made it, nearly. Gods-damned barrow broke but I'm nearly out. Just need one last rest. A breath or two, and to tell my story.
Baelen's Alchemical Notes - No way to get this blasted potion right what with Derryth knocking around the place. Bloody cow sweeps like she's getting paid to wreck my head. - Maybe mugwort. Maybe amanita. Must send Derryth on the hunt. - Another failure. And rent due. Ought to send her out on the street.
Avernus Survival Guide [A chapter titled 'On Traversing the First Layer'. The text details the terrain of the Avernus - a bleak, rocky landscape beneath a black sky, with rivers of blood rushing between the cracks. The most frequent guidance given to adventurers on encountering any of plane's many physical perils - to simply turn around and run. To combat the spiritual perils, the company of a cleric is of paramount importance: to soothe those swayed by the plane's evil influence, or to consecrate the corpses of those who succumb.]
Attracting Drow Exiles Dictated to Scribe Yanthus by General Ketheric Sweeping up individual drow renegades is not giving us the cadre of Lolth-trained veterans I want for our staff and officer corps; we must be more ambitious. Agent Xilvre, True Soul 113, will be commanded to infiltrate Menzoberranzan itself, ideally House Baenre, ostensibly to proselytise on the behalf of the divine Absolute. I think Xilvre will be convincing in this role. This intrusion will excite outrage among the Baenre matrons, who can be counted upon to send a warband to exterminate whoever was so rash as to promote anti-Lolth apostasy in their home. Xilvre will have left a clear trail back here to Moonrise Towers, where the warband will find, not a circle of ragtag heretics, but an army in the making. I will parley with the drow leader, but as we negotiate her warband will be ambushed, and every drow warrior we capture will be tadpoled. This accomplished, the warband leader will meet the same fate, and thus we shall acquire our cadre of hardened Underdark warriors. And all it will cost us is the life of loyal Agent Xilvre, but he is, truth be told, a tedious enthusiast and I will not miss him.
Attention Acolytes A reminder: Acolytes are permitted entry to my chambers for the SOLE purpose of collecting Moonlanterns. My library is NOT to be tampered with. While the Absolute appreciates your eagerness to learn, my bookshelves do not. Any requests to borrow from them must be given to me in advance, and are like to be refused. Should you desire information on poisons, do NOT think to read any tome on the subject here. They are inclined to grant more knowledge than the written word could provide. Remember - the Absolute's purpose is better served by a beating heart than a poisoned mind. Though if you choose death, I will ensure you serve her still.
Artefact Mission: Challenges [The pages in this handwritten notebook have been torn out, except for the final page, which was only partially removed. The remaining text reads as follows.] -rran agents, in summary, must be trained to deal with conventional, illithid, and githyanki traps, locks, levers, and controls, but most importantly they must be mentally prepared to face extreme situations under alien conditions. Casualties are expected, but that circumstance must not halt the mission. Agents are to be deep-imbued to regard mission success as critical, even beyond survival.
Artefact Mission: Agent Roster [A roster of five infiltrators is written in an elegant hand. Above their names, it is noted that this group have proven themselves to be the most skilled, and have the greatest chance of successfully obtaining the artefact, but they remain utterly expendable.] Caldan Darkwood - Leader Buddug Vriss - Close Combat Kurk Deepcroft - Lockpicking Dreena Covely - Languages Shadowheart - Healer
Art Show Schedule [The plans for a forthcoming art show at House Jannath - 'Strange Tides: Self-Portraits from the Sword Coast'.] Excellent suggestions, Mnemonis. Please see my notes below for the preparations - Lady Jannath Invitees Mssr. Rewth Linnacker + 1 Lady Harette Oberon + 1 Ser Yarrick Sashenstar + 3 (He insists on bringing the triplets with him. Remind him we offer no nursemaid to attend them.) Vin Valle (Their piece 'Reflections on Umberlee' will be on display. Ensure they are made aware of this.) Mssr. Polton Karrick (Still hasn't delivered the still life I purchased. Remind him of this - gently.) Nourishments Three cask wine (The best you can find. My vintner in Manorborn should have something.) Wild mushroom soup Steak medallions with asparagus Golden pear pie
Art Appraisal [Art Appraisal by Gonner Maude begins with this:] My mother took me aside one morning and told me my father had gone crazy. I was seven at the time. In her defense she was pretty gentle about it. 'Your Dad's okay. He's just gone crazy is all.' When I asked her if crazy meant he'd locked himself in his study again to paint for three days, she told me no, he'd attacked her with a sharpened paintbrush. She said it just like that. Matter of fact. No tears in sight. They had been married six years, tying the knot one year after Mum pushed me out between her legs in a garden shed in the boonies outside Waterdeep. Art is a funny thing. Mitcher and Webson tell us in their excellent breakdown of the craft that good art replicates life whilst great art overcomes life. That morning, at seven years old with unlaced shoes and a friction burn on my butt from scooting too fast across the floor, I learned the truth of that, and its corollary: that while overcoming that strange thing called life, great art can gobble it up just as easily
Armbrust's Ledger [A tailor's record of customers and jobs. Leafing through the pages, it seems he's clothed everyone from the Upper City's finest to passing sailors who needed their uniforms patched. By all accounts, he enjoyed a brisk trade until recently, when 'Paid in Full' started to give way to 'IOU'.]
Arfur's Private Musings [An unfinished love story, handwritten by Arfur Gregorio, whose name is attached to the bottom of every page.] Her ample bosoms fluttered like doves' fingers, brushing against his nails. The very ends of his moustache stood to attention as the fire stirred behind his eyes. No doubt this was love. Love, ah love! The stuff that dreams are made of. It made him sweat to think of it - the graceful, enduring, blossoming magnitude of what it all, the priceless, breathless, weightless, sheer romping joy of it...
Apprentice's Journal 3 Uktar, 1371 DR Let it be known that I left my homeland because I was bound to my master, and not because I chose to. Were it not for the oath I swore, I would still be home, serving the zulkirs, and not tending to hog pox in this crude hamlet. However, an oath is an oath, and I will serve him, as is my duty, until I am released. [The early journal entries are written in a delicate, intricate script that gets rougher and wilder the more pages you turn. It ends with one hastily scrawled entry.] They did it! The Dark Justiciars got the old bastard before the zulks could. Now he's bleeding out and once he's gone, I'll be free of this oath. I can go back. I'll return the tome of necromancy he stole. They'll forgive me then. They'll know I'm loyal. The keygem's secure in the tunnels. Once I have it, I'll slip into the cellar, take what I can carry, and then - home.
Apothecary's Ledger [The ledger is filled with cultivation instructions for a range of medicinal plants. One entry is underlined: 'Deliver specially requested plants to the cellar. Keep away from prying eyes.']
Annotated Ship's Manifest [A ship's manifest. Amidst the mundane goods, a specific unit of crates has been circled with a note pinned on top.] REMINDER - THE STONE LORD'S GOODS. We don't need to see the man to know he's serious about his property. If you're tempted to crack a crate and take a look - remember Norin, and the wide-eyed loons who came to take him away last time out. I didn't raise a finger to stop those gods-mad bastards, and I won't for you either.
Ancient Selûnite Journal I can't sleep without the moon and stars. As a child, I prayed to them before I ever knew Selûne's name. Is that blasphemy? When I walk the battlements, the only light I see is the glow of their eyes. Out there, waiting. I know the High Initiate is making a plan. He'll get us out of this. We're making a stand. Moonmaiden fair, lend us your light, To guide us home in dark of night, To keep us on the path of right, Ever burning, ever- [The last line of the prayer succumbs to blurring, as if stained by something wet.]
An History of the Society of Brilliance as Told by Its Members [A transcript of the original meeting between Omeluum, Grazilaxx, Blurg, Sloopidoop, Y, and Skriss, that led to the foundinng of The Society of Brilliance, followed by transcripts of ensuing meetings. Also featured: statements and testimonies of new members who have since joined.]
An End to Suffering [A selection of rites for the dead and dying adorn this manuscript.] Let the light of perpetual toleration guide your servant's wretched form to peace. In bloodied mercy - hear my prayer. Our most ardent petitions bring this soul afore your tear-scorched eyes, Lord. Blink, and let it pass into reverie. The poison drained, the sickness quelled. As I deliver this body from that which ailed it, I render its soul unto your care. [...]
An Archduke's Leadership: Verification An Archduke's Leadership: Verification A pamphlet by the Gortash for Archduke voluntary campaign. As archduke, Lord Gortash's top priority will be Verification, to ensure that all those receiving the benefits of citizenship in Baldur's Gate are actually entitled to them. No policy can be more important.
An Archduke's Leadership: Surveillance An Archduke's Leadership: Surveillance As archduke, Lord Gortash's top priority will be Surveillance, to ensure that disloyal elements do not threaten Baldur's Gate and its people from within. No policy can be more important.
An Archduke's Leadership: Public Works An Archduke’s Leadership: Public Works As archduke, Lord Gortash’s top priority will be Public Works, to ensure that the city’s streets, sewers, docks, and most importantly its walls and gates are properly maintained. No policy can be more important.
An Archduke's Leadership: Protection An Archduke's Leadership: Protection As archduke, Lord Gortash's top priority will be Protection, the physical defence of Baldur's Gate and its citizens. No policy can be more important.
An Archduke's Leadership: Discipline An Archduke's Leadership: Discipline As archduke, Lord Gortash's top priority will be Discipline, to ensure that order is maintained in Baldur's Gate on its streets and in its homes. No policy can be more important.
An Archduke's Leadership: Decorum An Archduke's Leadership: Decorum As archduke, Lord Gortash's top priority will be Decorum, to ensure that administration and law enforcement are at all times treated with respect for their positions and duties. No policy can be more important.
An Alternative Perspective: The Weave According to standard wisdom, the Weave is comprised of the body of Mystra, or the domain of Mystryl, the threads connecting all of creation to the source of magic itself. I posit to the intrepid reader that the truth is far more fascinating. The Weave as we know it is not invisible at all. No, certain among us, whom I call 'Seers,' can sense the true nature of the Weave as an incredibly fine but highly physical and edible substance left in our realm by space-faring giants called Immortums several aeons ago. Each time we 'wield' this power, creatures called Weave-devils consume these strands of Weave, and their excrement is a powerful force we call 'magic'. I know this will shock many readers, but I only deliver the facts as I know them - and as the 'esteemed' wizarding community wants to keep from you!
Amaps' Memoirs My life has been a long succession of pleasures: to see my town take to my ideas and cease legal discrimination of local orcs, to see my fights against horrid living conditions in city factories take off, to have the chance to see a new generation take to these ideas of a better, kinder, fairer, intelligent world and run with it to new reaches of the continent. It was not a life without struggle, however, and I shall regret its failures. My old friend Suelto comes to mind, who adopted such cruel ideologies later in life. I will forever console myself in the idea that such a brilliant mind would only conceive such theories under the strain of exile, and the promise of reinstatement, as she ultimately was.
Always Hungry I hear them. Hunting. Hungry. Always hungry. I'm safe for now, but it's only a matter of time before they find me. Why did I argue with that stupid, loud-mouthed djinni? I thought he was just a showboating idiot. I never imagined he'd send me to Chult. I read stories about this place as a child. I thought it was a wondrous land teeming with exotic beasts. But it's a hellscape of venomous snakes, insects, and scaled monsters that hunt me, day and night. I've kept them at bay with wits and magic, but I can't keep it up. The monsters guard a portal - where it leads, I don't know, but even if I find myself in the fires of Avernus I will claw my way out of it, find that circus, and burn it to the ground.
Alturiak 1477 Alturiak 1477 - Until I was thirteen years of age, I didn't know that 'Uncle' Cazador was a vampire - that, indeed, my entre family were vampires, going back generations. Growing up on the Szarr country estate near Anga Vled, raised by old family servants, I rarely visited our city palace in Baldur's Gate. And when I did, I couldn't wait to leave and return to the country. The city palace, straddling the wall between the Upper and Lower City, was more than creepy, it was somehow chilling. -Amanita Szarr
Alchemical Extracts before i go on a little trip i want to show you one more thing dear reader call it my slimy pink impression on the alchemical field each solution has ONE main EXTRACT whatever you MIX it with just needs to have the right AFFINITY for exampl a healing potion just take salts of ROGUES MORSEL and mst people will mix it with SUSPENSION of bullywug but ANY SUSPENSION WILL DO THE FIRST EXTRACT IS THE MOST IMPORTANT left hand curled up in a claw of pain now too hard to write want so much so much left to do people to help people to see people to please with alchemy hurt driving me crazy need to drink the poison while im still myself for old times sake: wen in doubt with alchemy just recall th rule of three thrice the same ingredent forms n extract excellent going to tak my medicin now hot chocolat it tastes just lik hot chocolate
Adventures on the Sea of Fallen Stars [A collection of stories featuring legendary pirates of the Forgotten Realms. A note on the inside cover read, 'Lots of love, Uncle Tim Twofingers.'] Gracie Gravehart drew her cutlass and pointed it at the evil Lord Buckler. "Your men are defeated. Your ships sunk. Free the people of Everwind, and I'll spare your pathetic life!" Lord Buckler turned red with anger but knew he'd been beaten. And so he bowed his head, handing Gracie the key to the secret island of Everwind. The people cheered, crowning Gracie Queen! While Gracie continued to sail the Liberty with her daring crew, they made the hidden kingdom home. When Gracie died, her crew honoured her last wishes, burying their captain on the island, and tossing the key into Umberlee's embrace - so that none may torment Everwind the way the evil Lord Buckler once did. While Gracie is long gone, they say you can still see the red sails of the Liberty on the horizon, right as the sun is about to rise.
Adopters of Culture [Excerpt from Penelope Ringwarble's Adopters of Culture] What you've got to understand is that half-orcs have no fixed home. They grow up all over the shop; here; there; everywhere! Culture is a sort of gumbo cooked up out of all the parts of who you are, where you come from, who looks after you when you're small. Your fashion, linguistic cadence, word choice, how you view sex, table manners, farting - all these things are informed by 'home'. Half-orcs are a big diaspora. Without a home, they must adopt the home - and therefore the culture - of others. There's nothing malicious about that. In fact it's wonderful seeing how they raise that culture they've adopted. How will it grow in the garden of their hearts, unearthed and replanted, changed and rehoused?
Address Book [A collection of postal addresses for notable cityfolk.] Alan Alyth: Elfsong Tavern, Eastway Allandra Grey: Water Queen's House, The Steeps (note: ONLY send couriers with Water Breathing potions to hand) Bloris Meadhoney: Counting House, The Steeps Captain Grisly (real name? unlikely): Blushing Mermaid (note: warn couriers - armed postfolk don't often return) Cora Highberry: Large abode opposite Baldur's Mouth, Heapside Ettvard Needle: Baldur's Mouth, Heapside (note: has requested full time courier for Mouth shipping) Father Lorgan (note: Deceased, address post to Rector Yannis): Open Hand Temple, Rivington Figaro Pennygood: Facemaker's Fashion, near Upper City Gates Havkelaag (note: has 'philosophical objection' to postal service, address to Golbraith to get anything done): The Society of Brilliance Lodge, The Steeps Lady Jannath: Jannath Estate Mansion, near Upper City Gates Lorroakan: Ramazith's Tower, The Wide (note: ALL post to be directed via Sorcerous Sundries, Heapside) Mamzell Amira: Sharess' Caress, Wyrm's Crossing Manip Nestor: Flaming Fist Barracks, Basilisk Gate (note: recent reassignment to Rivington) Vicar Humbletoes: Stormshore Tabernacle, Eastway
Acquisitions By year's end, we'll have sufficient resources to acquire Nurthammas' shipping yard. For years now, the duties paid at docks across the city have been far too low - the temple all but subsidises local trade. This will be rectified once we are able to acquire enough docks to force a rise in tariffs. We may even be able to regild the nave in Waterdeep with the profits
Account of the Establishment of Crèche Y'llek [This stone disc has githyanki runes carved into it. Below them is drawn a translation into the common tongue. It is an account of the takeover of Rosymorn Monastery by the githyanki contingent.] Many supplies found, local area good for hunting more. Gremishka infestiation, but that will be no trouble, and indeed will be useful in deterring unwanted visitors. 'Rosymorn Monastery' it's called, but it seems these monks had plenty hidden away beneath the surface. Lots of valuable goods to be found underground - can be traded off after best bits are shipped back. The treasure room will prove a fitting location for the establishment of a military intelligence office - seems to already have good defences. Should station Inquisitor W'wargaz. He'll be able to keep Therezzyn under his thumb. - M'lar Rih'al.
Accelerated Grand Design Accelerated Grand Design: The Key Points As top leaders in the Banite hierarchy, to effectively implement what the mad alhoon known as Blue Apex named the Accelerated Grand Design, it's important that you understand its broad outlines. Don't worry about the details - leave those to me. The central element of this plan is that our dominated elder brain lays illithid tadpoles that induce a state of 'suspended' ceremorphosis, in which the host does not transform into a mind flayer. Instead, the tadpoled become psychic minions of the hive mind of the elder brain, which they perceive as a goddess, a deity of conquest called the Absolute. This Absolute, however, obeys the commands of the Chosen of the Dead Three - and needless to say, as Bane is the God of Tyranny, our allies who worship Bhaal and Myrkul must in the end defer to US.
Absolving the Wayward Heart [A curious self-help tome that claims to help those who have disappointed their elders. It seems to have been hastily printed and bound, and strikes an oddly harsh tone.] Alas, poor reader, not everyone can improve themselves without the help of others. Some need the instruction of an elder - a steadying, authoritative hand that can mete out guidance and discipline in equal measure. Honour your elders, dear reader. Be mindful of their lessons, deferential to their desires, and grateful for their discipline. Be of service to them, even when you think you are at odds with them. [The book drones on, dispensing suspect advice that advocates for utter obedience, before imploring the reader to seek further help at the House of Grief.]
Absolutely Unnerving [This treatise concerns the rise of the Cult of the Absolute. The perspective is cold, biting, and yet concomitantly it is impressed. One passage reads:] While I don't recuse myself from necessary criticism of this incarnation of the 'cult' format (charismatic leadership, ritualism, idiocultural phrases, gestures, an emphasis placed on veneration at the cost of self-defacement or utter obliteration of identity, signs and symbols, shared goals, othering of those not 'in-the-know', etcetera) the Absolute does seem to fall into the same basket as the truly dangerous movements of history. There is some dark appeal in its doctrine. We ignore their rise at our peril.]
About Creation of Orphic Hammer [A detailed history of the Orphic Hammer, describing the infernal workforce Raphael harnessed to locate and mine the rare materials used in its creation, and its intented purpose.] The Hammer is not a weapon, it is an insurance policy. Its function is specific, but its utility is boundless. No chains forged by infernal hand can withstand its power, for its core is a metalifferous compound combining the purest of essence of all Nine hells. If I should ever need to liberate the prisoners held in the Iron City of Dis, to shatter the vaults of Nargus, or even to free the child of Gith, my hammer will be equal to the task.
ABC, the Liches and Me T is for Tarul Var, wizard Red of Thay U is for the empty loop, the death that does not die. V is for Queen Vlaakith, the Lich Queen of the gith W is for dread Wulgreth, the scourge of Dire Wood
Abandoned Journal (Lower City) [The journal of a Gondian worker] ' 'artifice can outdo magic, given the right smith and a good set of raw materials' - I've carried these words with me all my life, but now I'm beginning to question whether it's really true. Whatever they're doing here with all the steel - it's not for good. Forgive me, Gond, but if we get out of here alive, I don't think I'll ever touch an anvil again.
Abandoned Journal [The handwriting is a hasty, lopsided scrawl. About the pages are blots of ink and what may be smudges of dried blood.) Lady Shar continues to preserve me, though escape is impossible. The beast still prowls our halls, though the sounds of battle no longer reach my ears. I fear all my brothers and sisters have fallen in defence of the Nightsinger's sacred Gauntlet. But I shall wait. The beast will not linger for long, surely. [A shorter entry, the handwriting even more skewed and erratic.] The beast still remains. Why does it not just leave? And why does it sing? The food is gone. ] must preserve my strength. [The final entry is barely legible.] Mistress, embrace me. Please.
A Traveller's Guide to Baldur's Gate Variety is the blood of the city itself, for better or worse. The devoted will find a place to worship; the dedicated will find work to be done; and, let it be fully understood by any who wish to visit - the criminal enterprises in Baldur's Gate thrive as heartily as the rest.
A Tour of Tempest [This book, long as an encyclopedia but written in an untamed, barely-legible style, describes the Tempest domain, from which some clerics can draw power.]
A Tour of Tempest And look! When you are whipped with the wild winds or stricken until stick-like and burning from the gods' lashing lightning tongue, are you not suffused with the power of Tempest? Aye, how Queen Umberlee and Lord Talos fight and fray over its dominion... but even they, even They On High know in truth Tempest can never be tamed, only... channelled... by the favoured few. Reach up thy hands to the sky, outstretched awaiting breath of gods to blast thee oblivious, supplicate and ask to be drowned, to be blown asunder, to be destroyed... or perhaps, perhaps, to be granted such might to speak the words of Talos with thine own sweet hand...
A Swift and Sudden Death [A scorched book, its pages singed and tattered. Though its contents have been rendered illegible by some unknown phenomenon, it is still possible to make out the dedication.] To those who doubted me, may the storm claim your final breaths, and the earth reject your rest.
A Study of Spores and their Supraterranean Effects [The notes are lengthy, verbose, and densely packed.] It has been four days since the subject last ingested anything other than spores. They decline even water. It is my belief that in spite of my best efforts, the subject has ceased to respond to stimuli. The subject does not appear to be in any pain. The only symptoms I might describe, point more towards ecstasy. The eyes are glazed, as before, and now accompanied by a soft smile, at the corner of which, a steady trickle of spittle may be observed. A sight that is most unnerving to behold. I believe the subject is now suffering from a form of intoxication, and one that they will have to be weaned from safely, and over a period of time so as not to cause long-lasting harm.
A Study of Ores [A curiously passionate collection of research notes about ores.] Of most surprise to me is the above-grounders' enthusiasm for gold and silver. Such metals have neither the practical benefit of mithral, nor the astonishing properties of hizagkuur, and yet are coveted as if they were the output of Moradin's own forge. Either the above-grounders are deluded, or they're onto something. Only one way to find out. I have acquired some samples for testing. For now, these are stored in a private room, but should they prove to be as valuable as the denizens of the World Above would have us think, I suppose I shall have to transfer them to an even more secure location.
A Sprinter's Guide to Goblins A Sprinter's Guide to Goblins by Colin Meringue. Let's talk goblinoids. Your standard goblin is well-armoured and conniving, and while not the best strategists, they are deadly in bigger groups. Hobgoblins are where the species get disciplined. Smarter, stronger, and as mean as a bag of hedgehogs, hobgoblins are natural leaders for their kin. Bugbears are as tough as ogres, only shrewder, and they can be unnervingly quiet when they want to. Avoid these sleuthy bruisers. Me? Har! I avoid 'em all, chum.
A Promising Candidate Interim report - The scarred dwarf is a promising candidate for Unholy Assassin. Though he is personally crude, his methods of homicide are artistic and even innovative. He has set up a deadly wine festival to eliminate his next target, and I, for one, will be observing it closely. - Shallar Koll
A Primer on Mythical Beasts [Each chapter of this book describes the cultural origins of a different mythological beast.] Chapter 5 Miniature Giant Space Hamster Very little is known about this particular cryptid, though stories say they tend to choose well-muscled human males as their steeds when they deign to visit this plane. According to legends, this creature retains a wellspring of indescribable power known only to itself, though it provides its steed with perhaps mystical, perhaps mundane courage. Unsubstantiated rumours claim the creature has a taste for human eyes.
A Pleasurable Deal [This is an excerpt from the play 'A Pleasurable Deal', banned in no fewer than four cities for its lewd content. Its scandalous nature led to a number of widely-distributed and illicit printings.] Narrator: Come hear fair folk a tale now lost to time. In grief, this man well-sunk to depths sublime A gift he sought to win his lady's heart. Our cambion smiled, for now the game did start. [Enter Robert. Male tiefling. Crying. Carlisle, stage right. Flash of smoke.] Carlisle: Weep not, young man, though free your wife has fled, And comfort found in comrade's arms and bed. She licks her lips and cries his name, oh my! And now you seek to be the apple of her eye? Robert: How does a stranger know such things, I ask? I watch you from the shadows and I see Your shame and grief for nature's malady. You seek to win your lady and her bed To have your name upon her lips instead You know my curse, my pain, my grief, my woe? Of you, I know, you seek a large hoe, To plow fair maid, and sow a seed to grow, But lack do ye a mighty horn and mast With which to guide a maid to bed and fast.
A New Blasphemy: Bloodletting and Sanguine Arcana [Penned on official House of the Broken God parchment by the Revered Mistress of the House, Lashbearer Catrine.] BE ON YOUR GUARD, mine faithful - for SPECULATION and HERETICAL WONDERING has spread amongst the Broken flock in recent times. If you are offered BLOOD TRANSFERENCE, report it to your temple's rector IMMEDIATELY. It shall not HEAL you. It shall not DELIVER you. To suffer truly in the name of our Lord on the Rack, YOUR OWN BLOOD MUST ENDURE.
A Mummy's Memories Some mortals might wonder why a mummy lord would abandon a subterranean crypt where he has abided for several human lifetimes, safely conducting delicate experiments into the very nature of life and its so-called opposite death, and trade all that for a perilous existence in a ramshackle waterfront house in the cesspit of Baldur's Gate. Some mortals might be morons. An entity of erudition and taste must naturally have a keen appreciation for what the surface world has to offer: the lilt of music and the lyricism of poetry, the cry of seagulls over Grey Harbour at sunset, the touch of a soft, non-decayed hand. You don't need a nose to savour a fine wine. All of these things and more I have earned through my dedication to esoteric studies, and but all of these things, as well as rare alchemy ingredients, alembics, and athanors, cost money - a lot of it. Thus my new career as a high-priced and exclusive mystic consultant to the wealthy of the Upper City. I have needs, and they will not be denied.
A Modest Guide To Sword Coast Wine [A sommelier's guide to wines found along the Sword Coast. It extols the virtues of Berduskan Dark and Arabellan Dry, the sinuous fruity flavours of ruby-red Elverquisst, the throat-slamming notes of Red Dragon Crush snatched from the hands of charming Vistani tradesfolk, Thayan vintages as richly hued as the robes of their Red Wizards, pale Saerloonian Glowfire, and it praises these with the same vigour that it declaims the inferior mulled wines such as Zzar and Daggerford Clarry, which the author claims are as suitably for consumption as 'bugbear taint.']
A Little Djinni Ditty If you were trapped in a magic lamp You wouldn't like it a bit It's tiny and stuffy and oily and damp And you've had to be shrunk to fit You sit here and ponder your only hope That some other fool will enter Then you'll get out, but the entering dope Will find they're the lamp's new renter!
A List of Essential Personnel [A record of various associates of Raphael's, listing their duties, and their respective performance.] Korrilla Hearthflame - field work - so far I've barely had to singe the tips of her fingers. This one shows promise. Archivist - naughty boy, supposed to be looking after the collection, but has a tendency to drift. May have to start breaking his neck to give his spine a chance to recover. Nubaldin - little shit let Gortash get away. Not letting him near the prisons ever again. Chamber of Egress will do fine until I find a replacement for him.
A is for Azuth, and other Gods XI Selûne guides us through the night. She is the moon, the stars her tears. Her sister tries to douse her light, But she protects us from our fears. Shar will take your sorrow from you But beware: her night is dark. She'll hide your pain, and secrets too. And all your joy, and all your spark. Silvanus, god of all that's wild, Of nature's danger and its charm. His glory's not to be defiled, Or you yourself will come to harm.
A is for Azuth, and other Gods VII Leira, Lady of Deception the goddess who wears many masks. Invoke Her name - avoid perception She hides your lies and secret tasks. For joy, to Lliira you must call And worship Her through soulfelt dance. So find Her presence in festhalls; Do not give idleness a chance. Loviatar's pleasure is your pain, Your scars an offering. Scourge or candle, whip or cane, Can your devotion bring.
A is for Azuth, and other Gods VI Ilmater hears the martyr's cries, Takes in the ill and the oppressed. When one to help the others dies, Then by Ilmater they are blessed. Jergal, or so it's often said, Once gave away his bony throne. For Kelemvor he tracks the dead, Makes sure that dead souls do not roam. Kelemvor, Lord of the Dead, Will take your hand when death arrives. Makes sure souls are correctly led To all their proper afterlives.
A is for Azuth, and other Gods IX Milil is the Lord of Song. Pray to Him for inspiration. Hear His call and sing along. Let His art be your salvation. Myrkul is the lord of death Of hopelessness and ending things He'll come for all at their last breath Lords and peasants, crooks and kings Mystra, goddess of all mages-- She provides and tends the weave. Revered by many through the ages; All magic we from her receive.
A is for Azuth, and other Gods III You should not ever pray to Bhaal, The savage Lord of Murder, His worshippers are killers all who spread His darkness further. Chauntea is our Mother Great, Hers is the hearth and home. Our harvests on Her blessing wait Thus we reap what we've sown. Cyric is the prince of strife, God of deceit and madness. Watch for the Dark Sun and His lies, Who'll rob your bonds of gladness.
A is for Azuth, and other Gods II Azuth, the god of wizards all Who spend their whole lives learning. He grants their spells both big and small, For Mystra always yearning. Bane the tyrant, the Black Hand Makes sure the strong do rule. He spreads His darkness through the land, Praised by the harsh and cruel. Beshaba will bring forth your doom Unless you chant Her prayer. Split from Tymora in the womb, She brings bad luck to spare.
A is for Azuth, and other Gods I Amaunator, sun's bright light Shines the truth into man's laws. Speak His name to stop a fight; Then, invoke a legal clause. Beware dread Asmodeus Both His word and promise sweet. More able to betray us Than the devils at His feet. Auril is merciless and cold the winter's icy breath. Spare Her a little food and gold; So you won't freeze to death.
A Hunter's Guide to Hags [An excerpt from A Hunter's Guide to Hags by the legendary dwarven ranger Amandine Heartwood. Text in this excerpt has been underlined several times.] All but the most arrogant of hags, from Night to Bheur, know that death is a possibility. As such, they won't hesitate to bend the rules of the Material Plane to escape death's clutches - returning stronger than ever. To do this, hags use, of all things, the common and humble mushroom. By imbuing these spore-producing fungi with her essence, she can endlessly revive herself. Neither blade nor bow will do these fungi lasting harm - the very twisted magic that heals the hag defends them. Instead, fire is your ally. Burn the mushrooms to ashes, and your blade will strike the hag's heart true. But a warning, hunter - even in death, a hag is dangerous. Be quick, be swift, and be deadly.
A History of the Flaming Fist A History of the Flaming Fist. Founded by Eltan (who was at that time Grand Duke of the city of Baldur's Gate), the Flaming Fist are difficult to categorise. They are a standing army, a police force, a band of mercenaries, and a troupe of explorers. They are scholars who have inculcated order and law, and they are soldiers who have slaughtered the guilty and the innocent alike under banners of orange and scarlet. Equally vexing for the historian are their sociological implications - the Fist have been at some times corrupt and at others virtuous. In that way making a friend of the Fist is buying a packaged loaf. Who knows if the dough is delicious or the crust is poisoned?
A Guide to Avernus - One Hellish Holiday ['A Guide to Avernus': This book provides an overview of Avernus, the first layer of the Nine Hells, for the discerning interplanar traveller. The sections on geography and inhabitants repeat much of the known lore about the Blood War's battlefield and combatants. The section detailing the politics of the planes is strung with asterisks, qualifiers and addendums - charting the ever-shifting chain of command beneath Archduke Zariel, as her many commanders rise meteorically in - and fall equally from - her favour.]
A Father's Diary [This is a worn and much-handled journal in which Ulder Ravengard recorded his favourite memories of his beloved son Wyll. A typical entry follows] 15 Flamerule - Spent the afternoon with Wyll on the docks down by the Water Queen's House, relaxing on the planks though the harbour fog swallowed the sun as usual. Wyll asked if the temple waveservants were real mermaids, and I told him they certainly looked the part, but real mermaids could breathe underwater and rarely showed their faces above it. 'Then I'm going to swim down and catch one!' he shouted, and dove off the end of the dock. He kept trying to hold his breath and stay under the surface, but eventually he got exhausted and I had to haul him out - minus his new shoes, alas. But I'll never forget his smile as he said, 'I saw one, father - I saw a mermaid, a real mermaid!' Then his eyes grew misty and he added, 'She was beautiful.'
A Fall of Netheril [A first-hand account of the Fall of Netheril, written by Raphael.] Even a merregon could not have kept a smile from creeping across its face when walking through those fields of the dead. Bodies, broken, the land painted crimson from horizon to horizon. Karsus brought Netheril's cities tumbling from the skies, and for a brief, glorious moment, he created a spectacle of such utter horror, it was worthy to be the tenth hell. I delighted in it, until I realised that the one thing I sought was not to be found among that delicious carnage. The Crown... it had been stolen.
A Brush with Evil: On Hags [An excerpt from 'A Brush with Evil: On Hags,' written by Elizabeth M. Soot.] It has been too long, dear reader, since we last sat together. I wish it was because I'd been travelling far and wide, working to bring you more tips and tricks on how to triumph over evil. Alas, that was not the case. For I fell prey to a Green Hag. Worry not, I am alive and well. But I have spent the last two years in her service. One day, I will share what happened in that darkened cell. But not this day. Instead I come to you with a warning. We have discussed hags before, be they of the Night, Green, or Sea variety, and how they are not to be trifled with. But even with all my research, I never truly understood what it meant to encounter one. Evil beings, hags rely on magic, deceit, illusion and even blackmail to lure their victims in. I knew this. I repeated it many times to you, dear reader. But I did not realise their charm, their allure. I did not know I would come to love her. That I would yearn to please her. She strung me along, tempting me with my wildest dreams. I thought myself clever, that I would be able to outmanoeuvre her. I once bested a glabrezu - surely I could handle a Green Hag? And she let me believe it. Until she sprung her trap. Hags delight in suffering, priding themselves on creating new and inventive ways to torment those in their 'care'. And while I have escaped, I spend every waking moment in fear that either her or one of her 'sisters' will come for me. For a hag coven does not let even the smallest of slights go unpunished. And so I rescind my previous guides to dealing with a hag, my suggestions for clever language and deceit. Instead, I offer these words should you ever encounter a hag: run. And pray she does not follow.