Thacktall's Notes

Thacktall's Notes are a collection of entries written by the gnomish scholar Thacktall Goddlergiddle, recovered from his *Case of Rapid Transfer* on Last Gasp Isle.

## Description

Thacktall's Notes seem to pertain to his ongoing study of the changes taking place on the Ahlusian continent, an interest that caught the air of the Captain of the Crescendo, the Windwalker. Thacktall aided their efforts to locate their prize on Last Gasp Isle but for their efforts was paid only in blood, subsequently slain and body claimed by the residents of the Crypt of Maledict's Pulse.

## Reading

### Completed by Ódóvir (through use of a Gnomish translator)

*...I still have not quite got over the sunburn upon my ears or nose, nor that wretched bee sting that caused my knee to swell near as large as my head, but nonetheless, I find myself in good spirits. My research has caught the eye of the one they call the Windwalker, so called for his want and will to wield the air that fills the sails of his vessel, the Crescendo, with as much ease and grace as one might a slender blade, or a paintbrush. Already, he commands an almighty understanding of the arcane, that much is true, and greater respect because and beyond it besides, for many of the Thrice-Damned look unto him as a leader, a Captain of Captains, though no doubt it will be a woeful act to attempt to bend all of the disparate groups to his will. No doubt, ha, that taming the winds will be easier that these free-spirited folk...*

*...Last Gasp Isle, much as it has most likely other folk with goals similar and different from my own, caught my attention for a singular, monumental and obvious reason. It should not exist, or not at least at the very scale at which it does. New islands spring from the waters from time to time, I have seen the borders were the molten stone from beneath the soil upon which we live tumbles into the waves, smouldering and hissing with terrible stink as islands grow. Legends say that in the days before Aita's Second Gift, volcanic eruptions would frequently detonate suddenly, earth rising from below while debris tumbled from above. Although, in those days, such islands rarely lasted, as forces of benign and malign alike squabbled and sundered them duly in their vying for power...*

*...even then, the rumours echo that it was not the gods that caused such growths, such developments, but instead the will of nature itself. I feel that this is surely a part-truth, a part-truth that has inspired my research, prying through ancient tomes and tombs alike in pursuit of answers. Those changes, I believe, were the act of nature, more specifically nature incarnate, those amorphous, immutable forms that have come to be known as the Primordial Elemental Princes - despite any true indication, or acknowledgement of gender, I must add, but that is besides the point! No instead, Prince perhaps instead acknowledges their might, their majesty, the awe they inspire, but likewise a king, a superior, an elder. I have no doubt in my mind that it is the Elder Elemental Eye that wields them, not as dogs on a chain, but instead beasts simply loosed into the world, to chase and bark and bite at their own whim and will, for sake of the delightful chaos of it. Against evil the devils of the Hells, evil against evil, the other children of the Chained God warred and raged, locked now, as then, in an eternal bloody stalemate while those elsewhere coterminous and remote alike try to keep the scales in balance. This is the mind, if such a mind can truly be recognised as one, that formed these beings...*

*...so that is why I feel I must chase and pursue these matters. As then, now, truly this is the explanation. The Sect of Renewal proclaims and preaches of cycles of creation come and go, and the tail of this cycle draws close. It is a descent into chaos, into destruction, and these locations, they are herald and harbinger to that. In the battles before the Second Gift, the Sixteen cast out the Primordial forces that ravaged the lands, shackling them within the Elemental Sphere, the Wandering Worlds, a void of the Between and Beyond between them and us, with no light, no anchor, no bastion to guide them back from the depths once more. And yet they do, and with it chaos will soon loom. It is imperative that these points of ingress, where they grow close to the surface, and where I fear some may have already had the chance to emerge, laying dormant at their master's beck and call, they are secured, they are studied, they are sundered...*

*...and so that is why I said yes when he asked, for he has power and might and influence, and with it perhaps the capability to hold back this beast, to push back while the divine chains still languish and tether at their nape. I will offer my aid to find it, to sequester it, for his feet, his body, his mind, his determination, in a twist of irony for an individual so unequivocally at home upon the waves, seem sturdy and steadfastly locked upon the soil and stone, unwavering, ready to shoulder a weight great and burdensome...*