The following is a report cobbled together from the firsthand accounts of two sailors, who over the course of 70 years discovered two mysterious journals while out at sea, seemingly both written by the same mysterious author.
Discovery of the First Journal (899 PR)
During the waning years of Realm War II, many residents of Isonhound sought to flee the continent in an attempt to escape the rampant warfare. The Woldbreaker Plague was running rampant claiming hundreds of lives per day, and rumors of a destructive weapon being developed by the Wold Order being unleashed on friendly soil led many people to desperately seek a way to get far away from the devastated landmass. With the population of spellcasters capable of teleportation reduced significantly by the Plague, many prospective escapees were forced to place their lives in the hands of whatever sailors yet remained on the continent that hadn't had their vessels commandeered for military use and were skilled enough to sail under the radar of the demonic forces of the Dragon Goddess. One of those sailors was Cloro Kurassi, captain of a small personal vessel named the Wandering Splinter. Kurassi had actually escorted multiple groups of refugees to safety on other continents over the past few years, his small vessel able to more easily avoid the gaze of the forces of the Dragon Queen.
On one fateful night, the last night Captain Kurassi would ever again see the land of Isonhound, his ship had been loaded shoulder-to-shoulder with refugees. The Greenfire Bomb had been unveiled in a destructive showing across the sea, and Synàra and Sneerwell were already under siege by envoys of the draconic tyrant; The Second Razing of Isonhound had begun. Captain Kurassi watched as people jumped from the shadowed docks as his ship pulled away, backlit by a fire that seemed to stretch across the entire continent; he had to force himself to avert his gaze, lest the souls on board be damned to the same fate. Guilt seemingly ate away at him during the journey however, as when the vessel came across what appeared to be scattered ship debris floating in the open sea, Kurassi ordered one of his deckhands to shine a Gem of Brightness into the water to look for survivors, despite knowing there was not enough room on the ship for even one person more. The fact that no survivors were found could be taken as fortunate or unfortunate given the circumstances, but something peculiar did catch the eye of the young deckhand: a small leather-bound journal sitting atop a single wooden plank, heavily water damaged, but still mostly held together. Upon learning of the discovery, Captain Kurassi ordered it to be fished out of the water using one of the ship's fishing nets. Even if it wasn't another life that he could shepherd away from the horrible war, perhaps if the owner had family elsewhere, Captain Kurassi could provide them closure and perhaps quell the images in his mind of the people left behind on those dark shores far behind him. He didn't dare open the journal until he reached safe shores, vowing to keep his mind free of distraction and doubt until this group of survivors, the last he would ever escort out of Isonhound, was securely placed back on dry land: greener pastures, or so he hoped
Even after the successful completion of their journey, the young deckhand noticed that it took Captain Kurassi a while to will himself to open the journal. The captain constantly made the excuse of wanting the journal to dry out more, afraid of damaging what entries may remain, but he had been meticulously watching over the notebook for weeks now, the heat of their home continent of Pteris baking into every creased page and every inch of the brown leathery cover. Whatever pages remain intact, they would have been ready to be read long before now. The deckhand, a young man named Daemis Accenshire, speculated that Captain Kurassi was afraid of what he'd find within the small book. Thick and obviously well worn, who knows what kinds of tales awaited within? Stories of daring exploits, letters meant for loved ones that are now long overdue, or perhaps it was a simple merchant's ledger and nothing more; all possibilities as long as it remained closed. Daemis thought that perhaps the captain was fearful, afraid of being dragged deeper into guilt by the stories of this mysterious author: another soul snuffed out by the horrible war that he had no hope of saving despite his efforts, though Daemis would never speak such an accusation out loud of course. Eventually though, Kurassi did find the will to probe the contents of the journal, but asked for privacy while he did, and so the young Daemis took his leave from the Wandering Splinter's cabin and began walking down the waterlogged dock of the town of Mek. However, he had barely made it a stone's throw away from the old ship before a series of expletives viler than any combination he had ever heard in his life exploded from behind him. Daemis turned to see his captain, face scarlet with rage, storming down the dock muttering countless more curses beneath his breath. He spoke not a word to the deckhand and simply made a path straight for his home within the town and slammed the door shut behind him. Daemis, stunned but having the wherewithal to realize the captain's hands were empty, quickly made his way back to the ship and into the captain's quarters where he saw the journal: open, but laying in the splintered remains of the captain's navigator's table, seemingly smashed in half by a single blow. The deckhand, eyes wide, was shocked at the sight, but the burning curiosity in his chest overcame all other emotions and dared him to pick up the notebook and read the words that sent the normally restrained and stoic Cloro Kurassi into a fury. He brushed off the dust and wooden splinters from the crinkled pages and read the first legible writing he could see...
Discovery of the Second Journal (969 PR)
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