I trust that this message has found you in good health. After much investigation and the thorough interrogation of the surviving magi it is still unclear how a manuscript written after the fall of Krefield has surfaced in its ruins. As requested, the text has been reproduced below in my own hand. Fire damage and staining has rendered some sections all but illegible. I have filled in the blanks with my best guess.
Hopefully this will aid you in your incursions. – R.
This will be your last chance to turn back. From this point onwards, the direction of your travel does not matter. It might take minutes, it might take days, but eventually Azarkarnul will find you. – Kaldo Mare, devoured deceased.
After the destruction of the great library at Krefield it should come as no surprise to anyone that I packed away my apprentice’s robes and set out to save what little of Wraxia’s history survived the winter. In my travels I have come across many a town or city that has garnered a reputation as “cursed”. There is only one city that I believe deserves this moniker and her name is Azarkarnul. A city as famed as she has a well-documented history1 so I will not recount it here. Instead, I aim to paint a picture of the city as it is today – twisted, crumbling, and hotly contested by man and abomination alike. To this end, let us begin with the story of my own journey to the city and my first days in one of its mercenary camps.
1 Interested readers should consider Magos Hewe’s “Travels Across Wraxia” for a concise history of the city and its five four five famous towers.