I do not know who I am writing to, it makes precision difficult. I am slowly dying, it makes it more so. It is the year 384 CY. I do not know when you are reading this, I only know you are of or near my blood. You are either destined to try to destroy the Codex of Infinite Planes or you will figure out who is. I am sorry. So very sorry. Because this falls to you because of my failure.
Our company set out, after so many other adventures, to find the Isles of Woe. The lost islands of the Nyr Dyv that were the birthplace of the Codex and the site of a mad empire. Details and specifics are enclosed in this package…but what you need to know is that I alone survived. Victim of a trap and a curse.
I am slowly freezing to death by being encased in ice. It is supposed to kill me, but the Lord of Castle Greyhawk has given me an odd choice of aid. He can not remove a curse of the gods…and that is what this is. But he can modify and delay it. He can preserve my life until I get to talk to those who are coming at a later time…to destroy the Codex. I escaped with that knowledge, although getting it cursed me twice.
I know what has become of the ice…my benefactor has told me that since I will be alive and awake in it for centuries. Something about nightmares being a way in that I do not understand. But he assures me it is necessary. But the second is the curse that was spoken when I retrieved the map you will need to assemble a device to strip the Codex of it’s power. I asked the mage, if indeed he is only a mage, "What of the other curse.:
“The one,” he replied, “That all you love and love you will become part of your flesh in life and in death.”
“I forget where I put that. It will turn up.”
I suspect that it rests along my bloodline…someone will inherit a curse I do not understand. All at the price of entry to these horrid island. One must be cursed to enter, I chose myself to gain entry for my party…much to my husband’s sorrow. Much to mine, he is dead…lying untended in the accursed Islands beneath the waves.
All I know is that the time will come for the oldest of my blood to begin this when the Griffon calls after whispers cause no more fear.
If you, reader and child of my children or spouse of my blood…know what that means, please prepare the one who is to come to me. In Castle Greyhawk, in unending wakefulness is the person who failed you before you were born…trapped in ice…waiting for you and the others who will finish our foolish quest to a dungeon build by the gods to contain and destroy a mad book.
Yours in an apology that can never be enough,