This old journal was found alongside the skeletal remains of a dragonborn prisoner of the Steelclaw clan, in the dungeon cells beneath a ruined keep north of Winterhaven that was once home to the Tarmikos family in the time of the Nerathian Empire. It is written in Draconic, and some of the later entries remain intact.
My search for the idols of Sarygos have led me to the gates of Nerathas, seat of the empire. Its majesty and its opulence are not exaggerated. I hope to keep my stay in the city brief, and direct my search southeast towards the ruins of Sar Noridas.
After nearly a week of searching through this damnable forest, I stumbled across the ruins almost by accident. After tripping on some especially dense scrub and thornwoods, I found myself facedown on the ground, staring at the base of a broken column and the remnants of an overgrown road. I followed the general direction the road led in, and soon after came to the main site of the ruins. Tomorrow my search begins in earnest.
Filthy human bastards. I came across them before I could even get a good idea of the ruins structure, and overheard their hushed whispering. It seems I have stumbled across the meeting place of an alliance of noble houses plotting to overthrow the Emperor and take his place. Fools. And the worse shame for myself, for allowing them to notice and capture me. The softskins didn’t even bother going through my belongings after disarming me.
We seem to have arrived at whatever destination my captors had in mind. I have no idea where I am due to the blindfolding, but by my best estimate it was a journey of some 2 weeks, and not by any major road. The leader of these traitors finally had the sense to go through my belongings. The idols of Arianastryx were taken from me briefly. I saw one of the humans return a short while later, carrying them to another section of the room beyond my view, but I heard locks being closed.
The entries in the journal become increasingly vague and hard to follow for the next several entries. There is little of substance, and many pages of musings, random thoughts and philosophical questions. You get the impression that the only way for the writer to keep his sanity during the long imprisonment was to continue writing. The last entry in the journal regains some of its former sharpness and focus.
I have obviously been left here to die. I have lost all sense of time; it seems to me that I have spent an eternity in these walls. Perhaps the treasonous plot failed, and the plotters all slain, and so there is no one aware of my imprisonment. I will die here. I am sure that the idols of Sarygos remain, buried beneath the centuries, still locked in the vaults of Sar Noridas. The thought of them remaining lost, and my failure to recover them, haunts me. As I take my last breaths, I can only hope that Jerwas had more success with the idols of Onysablet.