Tattered Journal

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Description: Day One: I stumbled across a most curious tome in the athenaeum earlier today... 'twas bound in gray flesh that closely resembled that of a ghoul. A chill went down my spine as I picked up the odd book, but I paid no heed. The librarian seemed almost glad to lend the book to me for an indefinite amount of time... again, most curious. I shall examine the book more clos... Sections of the journal have decayed, rendering portions of the text unreadable. You skim the page until finding a legible entry, and then begin reading again. Day Seventeen: The book has proved to be a wealth of knowledge; some of the incantations were unknown even to a mage of my stature. One particularly intriguing spell involved some manner of beast called a "lich". Apparently some mages of great power have managed to attain mastery of their own mortality by becoming one such creature... I am without a doubt stronger than those fools! Without the trite concerns of mortality weighing on my mind I will be able to focus on learning even more potent magicks, with which I... The rest of the entry is illegible. As you continue through the journal you notice that his handwriting is gradually becoming more difficult to read, and it seems as though he may be slowly slipping into madness. Day Twenty and Three: The preparations are nearly complete! My chamber lies beneath, and they will surely be lured there by the promise of treasures beyond the comprehension of any mortal mind beneath my own. My courier will be back any day now with their replies, and soon I shall have some test subjects for my new magicks! Oh joy! The beauty of deathless life in eternal death beckons to me, and I will heed sweet oblivion's call! The next entry is nearly impossible to read due to the strange ink and idiosyncratic manner in which he wrote it. Day Twenty and Six: it was necessary to kill the fool...he delivered the message, surely, but he conveyed their responses to me in far too slow a fashion...such disrespect towards one such as myself can warrant only death...no matter...i am preparing to retire beneath where the priest toils and moils in the city of ebony barbs... my guardians are watching over my vessel where the dead lie in Liinar, so i am now free to depart... i must say... that courier boy is far better an ink than he was a messenger... With great revulsion you slam the book shut and return it to your pack. The crimson text is not ink, it's blood., Type of Item: Doesn't do anything special, or is a key.

Rarity: Common