Cerist's Ledger

When Cerist arrived in Steephall, he came with a magically encoded ledger that the party spent their early days trying to decode. They ultimately ended up giving up the ledger when they reached Westruun, but not before making a copy of its contents.

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Grimsky dropped me off  just past the Ivyheart Thicket. A singularly unique method of smuggling us across the border but successful. I make my way to Emon where I hope to find some information on the caravans moving across the countryside.

I am a day or two out from the city. The Silvercut is busy this time of year, and even with the traffic there seems to be someone inspecting my writ every few hours. I shudder to think if hiding will become easier or harder as a get closer to the lion’s den.

Emon remains as large and unyielding as ever. Standing obstinate and watchful over its dominion. Even the Laughing Lamia has remained through all these years. I can hear the sounds of laughter and mirth floating down the street. While I know it is not my place to pass judgement on those who reside inside the city walls, the sounds of an unburdened life echo throughout the streets here. They have forgotten who has been tossed aside. They forget or perhaps ignore how they get all their fine food, clothes and whatever else they have need for. I have heard tales of dragons’ hoards who would pale in comparison to the wealth amassed in this city.

As to my mission: the reports of large caravans were not exaggerated. On the third day after I arrived in Emon the Clasp helped me secure passage on one of the 30 wagons that was being sent up. Apparently there is a convey of this size once a month and there has been for several months now. From what little I could ascertain they are transporting quite a bit of livestock, food and supplies, gems, and people. From what I can tell every person that has been captured, every person who waits for sentencing, or who currently resides in a dungeon within Morcam is being sent to Fort Daxio. I know not why yet, but I am on my way to find out.

I reached the fort early today and have spent most of it ingratiating myself with the head chef. She is in love with my take on Marqueetian bademdjan. Gren, when you read this I do hope you will remember that SOME people do enjoy good food. I have been hired on as a cook . It seems that the prisoners are being housed like cattle outside the fort itself. The few thousand of prisoners are guarded by a battalion.  I will see what I can learn.

It has been three days since I last had time to write here. While I know that the magics protecting this book are paramount I sometimes regret that it takes me so long to unwind the web of spells. I have been cooking for Turzon Grimheart and General Eylar Somne! They have apparently come here for a final inspection of the “Thawnik Key” as they put it. They seem to be going to below the fort itself. From what I can tell few are allowed down there. They are leaving tomorrow morning and I fear there is little more I can learn. I also think the chef is beginning to suspect something. I will follow them back.

I head back to Emon following Turzon, Eylar and their soldiers. We move quickly for the city. I am hiding in the cart behind the Turzon and Eylar, and I have been able to hear a few things. Primarily the project they have been working on. I know why they have been hoarding people like cattle. They have found a way interchange life essence with a magical one. There is also something else

Thank the gods I made it out with this book. They nearly burned it. I am being followed and I would imagine every collector and mercenary on this side of Foramere is looking for me. I have little time to explain I was captured and I was able to escape. Hopefully I will be able to go into more detail I was affected by some foul magic as I left. I feel a little sick now, but I shudder to think what the effects might be. They know I was sent by Gren himself. We may not have any time left to wait.

I’m heading south. The plan is go through the Daggerbay Mountains and then to Syngorn to meet up with Simal. Hopefully I can convince him to help me get across. If not I’ll have to find my own way. Perhaps the Clasp in Foramere can help. The sickness gets worse. The further I travel the heavier my arms get and the slower my breaths come to me. My heart lumbers along like a drunkard...I am not long for this world.Gren, I am sorry I can’t get this to you personally. I had a dream and I know what I must do. The travelers who bring this to you, whatever guise they come to you under, look to their hearts, there you will see them worthy. I will see you in the next life. Good luck. May Ioun’s thoughts be with you.