Diary Entry #1
14th of Leafall, 1498 DR
Today marks the beginning of my journey into the heart of Neverwinter Wood, where the
ancient ruins of Ilyanbruen lie in silent slumber. The whispers of the trees seem to guide my
steps, as if urging me to uncover the secrets of this long-lost elven civilization. What fate befell
the people of Sharandar, and what mysteries lie hidden within its crumbling walls? I am filled
with both anticipation and trepidation as I venture deeper into the woods.
Diary Entry #2
Date: 21st of Leafall, 1498 DR
have spent the past week exploring the ruins of Sharandar, and the beauty of its ancient
architecture is beyond compare. Yet, beneath the surface lies a palpable sense of sorrow and loss.
What catastrophe could have befallen such a magnificent city, driving its inhabitants into
oblivion? The answers elude me for now, but I am determined to unravel the truth, no matter
the cost.
In my exploration of the ruins of Sharandar, I am reminded of the cryptic clues found within
the Dwarven Book of Axeholm, discovered amidst the cursed halls of Axeholm Keep in the Sword
Mountains. The ancient tome spoke of a lost city hidden amidst the forests, its name whispered
in the winds of time—the crystal towers of Sharandar, capital of the elven civilization of
Ilyanbruen, of the Phandelver pact, the ancient alliance of elves, dwarves and men, and of a
Forge of Spells, an artifact of netherese provenance that could create potent magics.
The clues within the book hinted at the existence of powerful artifacts and ancient magics
hidden within the ruins, beckoning to those brave enough to seek them out. And so, fueled by
curiosity and a thirst for knowledge, I set out on this journey into the heart of Neverwinter
Wood, drawn by the promise of uncovering secrets long forgotten.
Diary Entry #3
Date: 3rd of Nightal, 1498 DR
In my exploration of the ruins, I stumbled upon a chamber unlike any other—a chamber housing
what appears to be a portal of immense power. The air hums with magic, and I can feel the pulse
of ancient energies coursing through my veins. Could this be the fabled Llewyrr gate, spoken of
in the book? If so, what wonders—or horrors—lie beyond its threshold? I dare not venture
through without further study.
Diary Entry #4
Date: 9th of Hammer, 1499 DR
The Llewyrr gate continues to haunt my dreams, its shimmering surface calling out to me in
whispers of forgotten tongues. And yet, amidst the echoes of the past, another voice rises—a
hissing, sinister presence that demands I find the "keystone" at any cost. What dark force seeks
to manipulate my fate, and what role does the gate play in its designs? I fear I may be treading
a path from which there is no return. Emerald eyes haunt my sleep and I can think of little else
but the keystone.
Diary Entry #5
I do not know the date. The nightmares grow more frequent, each one plagued by visions of
emerald eyes piercing through the darkness. They watch me with an intensity that chills me to
the core, as if daring me to unlock the secrets of Sharandar's demise. What truth lies hidden
behind those haunting eyes, and what connection do they bear to the enigmatic Llewyrr gate? I
must steel my resolve and press onward, for the answers I seek may lie just beyond my grasp.
Diary Entry #6
Today, amidst the crumbling ruins of Sharandar, I encountered a being unlike any I have ever
known—an elven lich, or Baelnorn, known as the Sunweaver. Its form shimmered with ethereal
light, and its eyes held the wisdom of ages long past. The Sunweaver spoke of a curse that befell
those who dared to tamper with the mythals keystone—a curse that would bring ruin upon the
unwary. Its words sent a shiver down my spine, for I knew not what peril lay in wait.
Diary Entry #7
The Sunweaver revealed to me the truth of the mythal—a powerful enchantment woven over the
land of Sharandar, shielding it from destruction at the hands of an orc horde centuries ago.
Through the magic of the mythal, the city was shifted to another plane, leaving behind only
scattered ruins as testament to its existence. And now, the keystone is needed to activate the
Llewyrr gate and bring Sharandar back to this realm. But the curse that surrounds it is a dire
warning, one that cannot be ignored.
Diary Entry #8
Against my better judgment, I took the keystone from its resting place within the ruins of
Sharandar. Though the Sunweaver's warning echoed in my mind, I could not resist the pull of
destiny that compelled me forward. As I clasped the stone in my hand, I felt its ancient power
surge through me, warping my body and clouding my thoughts. What have I done? The curse
grips me tight, its tendrils twisting around my soul with each passing moment. I fear I may be
lost to its darkness, a pawn in a game I do not understand.
Final Diary Entry
The days blur together, and the world around me fades into shadows. I am no longer myself, but
a vessel for a darkness that knows no end. The green eyes watch from the depths of my mind,
their hunger insatiable, their whispers like venom in my ears. I have become a slave to their will,
driven by an insatiable lust for power and treasure. And as I gaze upon the keystone clutched in
my hand, I realize the truth—I am but a pawn in the schemes of a dragon's covetous greed.
As the curse tightens its grip upon me, I feel my body contort and twist, my flesh warping into
grotesque forms that defy all reason. Limbs elongate and reshape, my once graceful visage now a
twisted mockery of its former self. The agony of transformation is unbearable, yet I am
powerless to stop it. I have become a creature of darkness, a formless monster consumed by the
curse that binds me.
In the depths of despair, I cling to the faint glimmer of hope—that someday, somehow, my
daughter Lorastine will read these words. That I may break free from this cursed fate and
redeem myself and the family I left behind, beguiled by the words of a treacherous wyrm. But
until then, I am but a shadow of my former self, lost to the darkness that lurks within.
Sharandar's fate hangs in the balance, and I, Filvendor, am its unwitting harbinger of doom.
