Here's something the players in my game will be receiving. I just wanted to share with someone. Comments and questions are welcome. Feel free to use it for your own games or adventures - I think it's open enough that you could slip it into a game with little trouble.
I used a font called Dobkins to provide a handwritten, scholarly look.
Cheers,
Jeremy Harper
We are a week from the Skull Gate, three from Mount Voor. My hold on my vassals is thread-slender. Only by appealing to their petty cupidity did I manage to keep them. The adventurers I recruited in Tarantia are on edge and overly curious. They seem willing to stay, for now, but if that damn thing strikes again I do not know what they will do.. They ask me too many questions, and I doubt I can come up with further excuses. Things have gone on too far and too long. Even Raldaro doubts me now. He was never a fool, but the ties of loyalty held him fast and kept him blind. Damn that Argossian fop for putting questions in his head. Damn my idiot cousin, for getting himself killed, stripping me of my protection. Or was ever really safe? Could he have killed me at any time, and is merely toying with me, as the cat toys with the mouse? Knowing what he and his cousins are---
It does not matter. I need but survive for another three weeks, and I’ll be safe. Or slain, in a way as horrible and sanity-blasting as any destruction he could devise. But death is certain if I surrender; If I press on, I may yet survive, but at what cost? The Old One’s appetite is great. My vassals will die. The adventurers will die. Gesric, Armanicus, Raldaro will die. Belanna and Michilo’s doxy will wish they had died – he needs vessels to birth his formless spawn, if the stories I’ve read are true. But it will be worth the cost. They will not have me.
But perhaps I will not reach Mount Voor. There are other hazards in the Border Kingdom, besides what he can whistle down. But they are trivial. Death at the hands of a robber baron or Hyberborean savage is better than the slithering annihilation that treads on my shadow.
Damn you, Anar-Akhen-Ur! Damn you for involving me with such obscenities. And damn me for ever trusting a Stygian. I wanted to believe that he found wonders from the Ancient World. Lost treasures and antiquities from Valusia and Atlantis that would make the wealth of the modern world seem like the baubles of children. But there is nothing under the sands of Shem but terror – terror and madness.
Mitra preserve me! I still see them, in my dreams, as vivid as yesterday’s memory. I saw them rise, and walk. They walked on two legs, but they did not walk like men. I can still see Anar-Akhen-Ur falling on his belly before them, abasing himself, kissing their clawed feet. I remember flying from them, half-mad, and the promise the youngest of them made to me, when he visited me in my tent, days later. Has it been only a year since this horror began? It feels like an eternity. Mitra, save your foolish son –
No. It is hypocritical of me to call upon Mitra. He has abandoned me. Damn him. He has put me on this path. His protection is a lie. Only in the dark will I find safety. To save myself from them, I must align myself to an evil as great and as old. I must have the Aegis of the To---
I used a font called Dobkins to provide a handwritten, scholarly look.
Cheers,
Jeremy Harper