The Aftermath: Entry #2

12th Morning Star, 4E 199

I realize that I neglected to introduce myself, and my business, in the first entry. The brandy is the culprit there. This is my personal journal.

My name is Drusus Varo, former scout in the Legion. I was discharged when I lost my dominant hand (so it can be difficult to write this chicken scratch). A couple months ago, the Synod hired me to conduct an excavation on the Ascadian Isles region of Vvardenfell. I was assigned about thirty men. Five of them are alteration mages. These are the only ones who actually belong to the Synod.

My duty is simple: oversee the search party, collect any important artifacts, write detailed accounts of what I cannot collect, and return to the Synod in less than five months’ time. My only instructions are a two lists of protocols: procedures for excavating an area at maximum efficiency; procedures for preserving each type of artifact. The First Adjunct gave me little spoken information save the details of my payment.

The result is that I have no idea what we are dealing with here. I play the part of a level-headed, resourceful leader, but I have my doubts. This is obviously a deathly place. Obviously, or the dark elves would still be here. And, I daresay, the Synod would send one of their own instead of scraping a crippled ex-legionnaire from the outskirts of the Imperial City.

But I am wasting too much ink on introductions. The here and now. We docked a few hours after my last entry, just west of the sunken ruins of Vivec. I am writing this to the light of an oil furnace inside the first tent we erected on shore.

I would be alone in here, but ash is brewing outside. Most of the men are flocking to the other tent but I invited a few in here. Cirelmo is one of the five mages. He says he needs to cast a ward on each tent as a safety precaution. I’m not complaining. According to the high elf, if this becomes a full-blown ash storm it will tear everything up and render the air unbreathable.

I felt a couple flakes of ash up on deck when we were anchoring the boat. Little bits of frozen ash. They floated up and stung on my face. A person caught in the middle of nowhere, besieged by millions of those frozen ash particles… I’m not afraid of that. But only because I can’t imagine it. Probably ranks high on Dagon’s list of “worst ways to kill a mortal.”

I would pray to the Divines for protection, but I hope the mages are enough.

Previous entry: http://www.reddit.com/r/teslore/comments/2cx8v6/the_aftermath_entry_1/

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