For Internal Use Only
Violation of the Warder Controlled Information Act (WCIA) of 4497 will result in arrest and cosmic judgement.
Certified: 6049 MG, 1- Iminyë, 4 (Vindurtíma)
Certifying Authority: VA Indel W. Shanarla
Classified: 6049 MG, 2-Tatyë, 10 (Guðtíma)
Classification Authority: MSRII Claus M. Wernden
Eligible for Universal Review and Release: 6549 MG, 2-Tatyë, 10 (Guðtíma)
Release Authority: ADM Wymond A. Pithe
Evidence of First Contact of Flaying in Uir
It was widely believed that Uir first saw evidence of Flaying sometime in 6048 MG. The following evidence indicates that Uir’s true first contact would have been in 11-Banwë of 6047 MG.
Below are the applicable entries from a young doctor’s journal, recovered from the ruined remains of his practice in Paramel City, Evadris on Terenye St. on the 5th of Nolwë, 6047 MG.
The following texts are mentally graphic. Warder Command strongly advises those with Flayer experience seek an experienced orator to read the following pages.
My History of Medicine
Medical Journal by Altiin Prindeth
6047, 6-Elwë, 14th (Vatn)
Today I met with an elderly human woman, Dolores Juxtare, aged 63, who supposed she had been cursed by her neighbor. She claims that, after years of verbal arguments with the young woman next door, she can only assume that some witch’s hex has been placed on her and her garden. When I pushed Dolores to describe for me her symptoms, she dragged on about the sudden lack of lividity in her garden, how her flowers were a slightly duller shade of puce than they were the week prior. The conversation took nearly an hour before Dolores said she was too tired from her travels and that she needed to rest. I admitted her to one of our sick beds to sleep after her long day of travel, and she promised she would speak to me in the morning.
*
Damian was back again today. He claims he almost made it to the Astral Sea this time, just like his hero Tarnasil did in the stories. Again, it was obvious Damian had been on the seas too long, his sun-darkened skin took on an orange pallor and his blood flowed slow when pricked. I gave him an orange, advised he drink water and spend some time in the shade, then sent him on his way. He said next time I saw him, I’d ‘see the stars in his eyes.” The boy is too young, but he won’t listen.
* * *
6047, 6-Elwë, 15th (Eldur)
Mrs. Juxtare awoke this morning and described her symptoms in greater detail, which is to say she awkwardly stumbled through symptoms that accompany food poisoning. It turns out Mrs. Juxtare had been fertilizing her garden with meat scraps, which I presume is why her plants were dying and why, I deduced, she is in fact poisoning herself. I thought it best to save her the embarrassment of truth, so I gave her a ginger root to chew on her walk home and a vial of blackberry juice to take to her neighbor with a note. I explained to Mrs. Juxtare that, as soon as she got home, she should give the vial and the letter to her neighbor. The details of the letter are as follows:
“To the no-doubt frustrated neighbor of Mrs. Dolores Juxtare,
I truly apologize that you must receive this letter from one as undoubtedly frustrating as Mrs. Dolores. I am her doctor Altiin Prindeth, and it comes to my attention that you may have been having issues with your neighbor. After some careful internal deliberation, I have deduced that she has either been poisoning herself with bad fertilizer, or you have been casting a witch’s hex on the poor woman, though I presume it is the former (it should be stated that Mrs. Dolores presumes the latter).
I have advised Mrs. Dolores to give you a vial along with this letter. I assured her that the vial itself would ‘calm her neighbor’s nerves’ and that you may even help her with her gardening. I told her it would help her neighbor relax, as it does for me. She doesn’t know it’s just blackberry juice.
The way I see it, one of two things will happen. Either you drink the vial (in front of her, I suggest) and advise her to stop throwing old meat in her fertilizer, or she will read this letter, drink the blackberry juice herself (for it would be a true shame if the juice went to waste), and she will keep the issue to herself.
Either way, she probably won’t end up in my office again, which is for the best.
Kindest regards,
Doctor Altiin Prindeth
Truth be told, the letter is not my most professional of works, but I think it will do the trick, and as I stated in the letter itself, I probably will never meet Mrs. Dolores again.
*
Captain Clayvus and the crew of the Vigilia Noctis returned again after a three month stint in the Astral Sea, closely trailed by an awestruck Damian. Captain Clayvus was the first I examined, and apart from the telltale celestial eyes and the cigarette-stained moustaches, he was fit as a fiddle. My assistant, Periety, fancies herself an artist, and I have included the sketch she took down today. I scolded her for her artistic liberties, but I believe the artwork does the strange eyes justice.
Smoke, the Vigilia Noctis’s Medical Officer, spoke to me today while Clayvus and his crew recounted a story to Damian. He and his men have heard tell that the newer explorers on other ships have “been warned.” Captain Clayvus broke off from the rest of the crew to join our conversation, expressing his concern over the matter as well, citing rumors circulating that Travelers were being warned by invisible forces that they ‘would be flayed if they continued their intrusion.’ I assured both of the Astral Travelers that, to my knowledge, no such reports had made their way to the medical community, but the Vigilia Noctis would be the first to know if they do. The Travelers thanked me, told me of their expected four month foray into the unknown, and left, an awestruck Damian in tow.
6047, 6-Elwë, 17th (Guð)
Mr. Jareth Alanoya is back again with his “Swamp Rage.” I have been fielding the old man’s insistence on the validity of the disease for almost two full years now, but to my surprise (and, truth be told, dismay), the old man produced a dusty copy of “The Field Surgeon’s Guide to Disease and Decay” that was published over two hundred years ago. He found a page among the listed diseases that indeed named “Swamp Rage” as a known ailment. At the risk of medical plagiarism, the Swamp Rage entry read as follows:
Swamp Rage - Hatred of swamp people. No known cure.
I took a moment to digest the information Mr. Alanoya presented to me, then suggested that he move away from the swamp. I don’t believe the old man was actually looking for a cure for his “disease,” but he did seem satisfied that I had, at last, validated his preposterous insistence, so he left, “Field Surgeon’s Guide to Disease and Decay” tucked firmly under his arm.
*
The crew of the Deckard’s Dream dropped by today looking for Damian (turns out his father is the Dream’s first mate). I told them that the last I saw Damian, he was enamored by the stories of the crew of the Vigilia Noctis and walked off with them last Eldurtíma. They left for a short while, then returned to let me know that the Vigilia Noctis had taken to sea this morning, and that dockworkers reported seeing a child boarding the ship with the crew, so don’t bother continuing the search. Damian’s father was obviously concerned for his child (and he had every right to be, a boy of 12 wandering off like that). I assured the Deckard’s Dream that the crew of the Vigilia Noctis were consummate professionals, and that they had nothing to worry about. The crew seemed satisfied, but Donnan, the mate and the boy’s father, was unconvinced, so I gave him a vial of blackberry juice to help him “calm his nerves” and sent the crew away.
I do find blackberry juice cures most ailments of the temper.
*
As the sun dips below the horizon and my day comes to an end, it feels wrong for me not to address this, for posterity’s sake. In this doctor’s humble opinion, there is no such thing as “Swamp Rage.” The surgeons of the past were either willing to forsake their ethical code in order to placate some racists, or they were racists themselves. Either way, in my non-legally-binding opinion, “Swamp Rage” is bullshit.
In light of interview data from his father Donnan Monroe of the Deckard’s Dream, the previous passage, coupled with the included passenger manifest, is evidence enough to conclude that the human child Damian Monroe accompanied the crew of the Vigilia Noctis on their final voyage into the Astral Sea.
6047, 9-Cirwë, 24th (Lífið)
I believe Mr. Raymond Malonado “The Sunblade” has finally passed, though I cannot be sure. I have detailed the ailment in my paper on Arboreal Petrification, a.k.a. Dryad’s Rot, but given the month-long (agonizing sounding) transformation from man to tree (from the feet up, I might add), I believe it is safe to assume that, given the fact that his head is now fully wood and bark and I can no longer hear breathing, Mr. Malonado has passed.
I will say there is some small relief in me now that I can freely document my findings in my soon-to-be-published paper on Arboreal Petrification as opposed to hiding behind curtains two beds over taking notes. Dr. Ultan Bywith should be over this afternoon to be my peer-review source, then I intend to send my findings to “The Field Surgeon’s Guide to Disease and Decay” to have them published in a credible medical journal. I also have a local lumberjack bringing a cart by tomorrow to pick up what remains of Mr. Raymond Malonado.
*
I think today must be the first time I have heard of the “flayed mind” that Captain Clayvus and Smoke of the Vigilia Noctis mentioned a few months ago. I had an Astral Traveler walk into my practice today (who refused to share his name or his crew, interestingly enough) and complained of the voices in his head. To be clear, he did say that he doesn’t currently hear the voices, but that his dreams have been haunted by memories of the voices, but from how he explained it, I don’t think it will be something he will forget any time soon.
He said that the voices haunting his head occurred when his ship left Uir into the Astral Sea. The crew apparently had traveled into the unknown a number of times before, but this last escapade was the first time his crew had been warned. He explained the sensation with words I will not write, but after, he and his crew were “brain deafened,” which should explain the ‘volume’ that this warning was screamed at the ship and its crew.
The crew apparently hobbled back to Uir and Paramel City, and then they promptly sent this single Traveler to come seek medical attention, just in case whatever happened to them turned out to be contagious in some way or another. I don’t believe it is, just to be clear. I told the sailor to sleep, as the situation seems to be a traumatic one, and his crew will most likely be haunted with a level of Post Traumatic Stress, but at least for now, the crew should be okay, as they show no other symptoms. I also sent the sailor back with a bottle of blackberry juice (labelless, of course) and advised that it may help with the nightmares. I would normally ask them to return and tell me whether it works (I have not tested blackberry juice’s effect on night terrors), but I get the sense that I will never see this man again, so I will presume the placebo effect will work its magics.
What concerns me more is the message that the crew was passed: “We have captured one of your vehicles. Venture no closer into our domain, or we will send our children to destroy your thoughts. This is your final warning.” I am worried as the Vigilia Noctis should have returned last week. I have prayed to the gods that Smoke, Captain Clayvus and young Damian are safe. I will be sure to keep this secret in case the Deckard’s Dream visits again and inquires of the status of the Vigilia Noctis.
This is the only known record of The Final Warning, presented to Uir before the first Flaying. The following details the initial symptoms of a Flayed. Those with Flayer experience should proceed with caution.
6047, 11- Banwë, 10th (Vindur)
I began today with a glass of Tobon. Normally I wouldn’t begin a work day with alcohol, but I finally received news of the publication of my paper on Arboreal Petrification, so I decided to treat myself. I almost had an incident, as I was visited by a member of the Town Council as I corked the bottle, but they just came to congratulate me on behalf of the mayor. The mayor! Today is a great day for me for sure.
*
I spoke too soon. The crew of the Vigilia Noctis was escorted to my practice a few hours ago. They were hastily dropped on my doorstep, and their escort sprinted away before I could thank her for her help.
The crew is almost unrecognizable. Physically, they are all exactly the same, but they are gesticulating wildly and speaking, simultaneously, in a language I have never heard before (and I see patients from all over the continent). When I spoke to them, it was almost as though they didn’t even know I existed. To be clear, they did not act with any sort of goal in mind, they just seemed to exist and mutter in unison. They are not violent, they are not scared, they simply exist. In the same way a baby makes noises to hear itself speak, it seems as though the Vigilia Noctis does the same. All I can think to do is to keep them wrangled within my practice so they don’t hurt themselves or others.
*
The case has escalated. The crew of the Vigilia Noctis continues to speak in unison, but they have gotten louder, and their actions are now in unison as well. They still don’t seem to be moving with any sort of thought or intent. I still don’t know what to do.
I have also taken count of the members of the crew, and Damian is gone.
*
It has been 15 hours since the crew of the Vigilia Noctis arrived at my door. I had to restrain them two to a bed because as they flailed, they began hitting one another. I am trying to sleep, but their unison speaking has raised to a scream. I have plugged my ears and drunk some blackberry juice, but I am still terrified.
*
The crew has broken free of their restraints, and I have taken to barring the doors. They stopped hitting themselves and formed various patterns, and I have given up. I am outside of my practice now in the early hours of the morning. The winds have picked up since the crew has started screaming, and I can see a purple glow emanating from the windows of the office. The chanting of the crew has increased in speed, and is a pattern, though I still cannot parse it. I think I may have to kill them, but I don’t know if I have the strength.
*
Whatever they were trying to do is happening. I feel what I thought was the wind pulling me into my practice, and if I can do anything, now would be the time to do it. I am frightened, and I can no longer hear anything other than the sounds of their screaming. I am convinced it is coming from within my own head. I think I will never hear anything else again. My brain feels numb.
I think I am going to die. I'm going to burn down my practice.
There are no entries following. Eye witnesses report seeing the young doctor pulled into the flaming remains of the practice by a “gargantuan tentacle” and disappearing into a rift. His remains, as well as those of the members of the Vigilia Noctis, have not been found. Many in-tact articles from the doctor’s supplies were presumably pulled into the rift as well, as the remains, scoured by Warden personnel, are mostly ash and rubble with no signs of doctoral tools.
The included document, "Viglia Noctis Sailor Manifest" requires further investigation and is attached only to expedite future research.
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