• 11
• 3
• 4
• • Diamond Log
  • Favorite Log
  • Embed
  • Report

I awoke on the floor, the flagstones cold on my back. My head was swimming...what had happened? I sat up to find my workshop in disarray; papers scattered across the room, my wand splintered on the ground in the corner.

“Did someone raid this place?” I pondered to myself, looking around to see what other damage had been done. I noticed my Thaumonomicon had been knocked off its pedestal.

“Odd…”

I picked up the book and wiped off the cobwebs that had accumulated on it. How long had I been lying down here? I opened it and flipped through the worn pages. Oh, how I had loved this book. It held so much knowledge. I noticed a new entry. Hopefully, this would explain the dishevelment of my solitude.

~~~

The headaches, they're getting worse. But are they that bad? I mean, the voices show me secrets. There has to be a way to stop them for a time, though…

I haven’t found much in the way of change in the Thaumonomicon. Most of the research has remained the same, and that new entry was nothing of great interest; just some gibberish that I couldn't understand. However, there seems to be some missing...or is that what the voices in my head are telling me? Maybe I am going mad...I’ll have to do further research. Now...where’s my new wand at?



I’ve created a new smelter thanks to the voices! It may make the headaches worse, but why would I want to get rid of them when they reveal great things like this to me? I’ve found a way to keep them in check, however. Some sort of bath salts that help clear my mind for a time, so I’ll just use some before I go to bed tonight.

~~~

A group of raving cultists ransacked my workshop in the middle of the night! They spoke in an otherworldly language and wore crimson cloaks with a Thaumaturges’ sigil on the front, oddly enough. I couldn’t see their faces; they were shrouded by their pointy hoods. One dropped a book in their hurry when they realised they were trespassing.

The book is rather horrid-looking, to be honest. It has a depiction of a tentacled skull on it, and the dark covers have a rather strange, watery effect to them. The voices have told me to open it, but I don’t want to look at the pages of such a disturbing book. It seems to be the same shape and thickness of my own Thaumonomicon, but I can only guess that it’s not used as a miracle worker’s tool. There are some runes on the cover, however, which read “crimson rites”. Whatever that means. I need to clean up my workshop and put up some warded doors.

~~~

I spoke to some of my colleagues today about the cultists. They said that they had come across some strange obsidian circles with ominous pillars floating above them and a dark aura node underneath said pillar, surrounded by capstones of some sort. There also seemed to be two flags at these circles, both the same sigil that I had seen on the cloaks of the fanatics. Apparently, these people...no, not people...these things, whatever they are, are the stuff of legends and myths.

Well, I can most certainly say that they are not legends and myths anymore. They are very much real, and they are very dangerous.

~~~

The jar with the brain in it is looking at me with an evil glare today. More evil than normal, that is. It’s as if the brain is staring into the deepest, darkest parts of my own soul…

The voices have calmed. They spring back up now and again, but they’re silent for the most part. The bath salts have been helpful in keeping them at bay. I’ve made a soap, as well, whose scent can help clear the nastiest of the voices.

~~~

There’s more power running through me than ever before. I’m a Master Thaumaturge now…no one can get in my way. If they do…well, my Thaumium fortress mask will teach them to stand in it.

My skin has become frail to the Sun’s light, but it’s not like I need to go out anyway. My advanced golems can do everything for me.

They look as if they're up to something, though…maybe I’m just paranoid.

~~~

One of those little miscreants attacked me today, yelling “Die, meatbag”! Luckily, my lesser golems were able to take the rest down before more harm could be done to my workshop, or me, for that matter.

My hunger is no longer sated by normal means…I have to feast on rotting flesh that comes from those zombies that are out every night. The brains are quite tasty, too, even if the sanity checker fills with more purple with each one that I devour.

My vision starts to fade to a fuzzy gray at times…the monsters that are around me when this happens are afflicted with a deadly poison when I stare at them. Good riddance, I say…hehe…

~~~

I’ve looked through the Crimson Rites, and it seems that the Crimson Cult has a ritual known as the “Apertis Oculis”.

Translation: “Opening the Eye.”

The doors have been opened for new research. Voidmetal...it’s much better than this pitiful excuse for magic metal known as Thaumium. And these Eldritch eyes…very important for reaching the Outer Lands…

~~~

The sanity checker is higher than I expected it to be. It’s broken…yes, yes…it has to be.

Large, smoky spectres have been appearing out of thin air near me when I’ve been doing my research…they speak the same otherworldly language that the fanatics did…perhaps I’ve fallen too far down the rabbit hole; attracted unwanted attention. The voices are telling me more than I ever wanted to know, but I welcome them more than anything now. They help me with my research! They’ve given me inspiration! They’ve…revealed so much to me…

I’m going to one of the Crimson Cult circles. I’be donned my void robes, and I’m carrying a wonderful new wand with voidmetal wand caps that will give me the power to open the gateway to the realm of the...what are they…Eldri…Eldritch Guardians…yes.

My colleagues have been wasting their time on piddly research...weak magic that any novice Thaumaturge could work...I’m much more powerful than they’ll ever be. I feel it in my veins.

I’ve placed the Eldritch eyes within the central pedestal…the voices are calling me to the Outer Lands…that where they're leading me.

I must follow them.



These are the final writings of the Thaumaturge Jaran Ashir. He was last seen entering a strange portal that soon started to pour out Eldritch creatures after he disappeared through the portal. The portal was closed by Master Thaumaturgists Galzra Roris and Brovras Hulore, and the Thaumic Defence Force deployed to eliminate the Eldritch abominations. It is unknown whether or not Jaran succeeded in whatever venture he had planned after going through the portal, but other Thaumaturgists report a Void Thaumaturge ransacking their workshops with a band of Crimson Cult sorcerers and knights. Be on your guard, fellow Thaum.

May the Wisp bless you.

Cover photo and journal page made by Hobbes_Tigerclaw.