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[That Wolf]

This guide is for the adventurer who thinks sword and sheild is not enough.
A guide designed for the cunning, for the alternative
My companions and I write this guide inside our fortifications, after years of adventuring, after thousands of kills and a million more deaths.
We write this for the pursuit in knowledge forgotten and knowledge hidden from the common people.
However this is not a guide about the Magic arts
Upon its completion it shall be ordered into chapters and a simplistic form easily digested by the reader.

I have questions for you my sisters and brothers
What is your knowledge gained in the darkness? Do you dare bring it to the light?

How do you coat your bolts in poison? How do you use the flaming sword? Where and when does one become immortal? How do you collect dragon blood? Is a minotaurs bone denser than an elves?

Turn the pages and find out

[King_of_Baboons]

I'm eager to learn more,Master Wolf.

[That Wolf]

The subject of burning comes up once in a while during conversations, not the kind of burning that comes from forgetting the meat on the fire mind you, the use of fire in applicable ways, im not talking about fire imps here, but flint and steel, while most of us will use it to cook, fend off monsters or block movement, some have spoken of wood that never burns into ash, these 'artifacts' whilst a danger unto itself finding such an object, one can burn the flesh with ease and start endless forest fires.
Maybe this is why we never hear of people doing such things, for only an ashen husk and a 'unharmed' wooden object is left behind, woe for the next adventurer to find this ability and its curse.

[That Wolf]

My brothers died. A mist entered the lungs and rapidly ate out the chest cavity leaving piles of poison dust where they fell, shortly after it fell into ruins and the dust had dissapeared, I had hoped to take some for my alchemikal research, sadly I was not at the outpost at the time.
I had found a letter written by a necromancer, two parts actualy the first was a letter to a loved one. The second however was written decades latter by the same author. This letter bought magnesium filled tears to my eyes, it was a letter written by pure lonelieness and depression, obviously a man who had lost his goal, had lost his reason to live. But years before you could see a man with a determined hungry look in his eyes seeking immortality, now it seemed he had nothing to live for, he only wanted death after finding immortality. The nature of it is to be pondered.
I knew he wanted his death, because his own thralls had killed him.

I burnt the letters for my own morbid curiosity. Burning things reveals the truth, it purifies. The letters caught fire however never burnt, the letters danced with a life of their own, singing of lust and sadness.
Slowly but never slowing my fire keeps on growing.
Help me find the mysterys lest I be stricken with melancoly