An excerpt from Zoxcri's notes, from his personal journal in Wraithstone.
I met a particular group the other day, seeking a relic of the past. The far past, in fact, not merely something only a few of their generations ago either. They are seeking the genesis gauntlet, from legends of the world's creation. But at least they know where to look for their clues.
They were specifically looking for Vireem, one of the great changers of the city, the man who made it what it was today. He built the incarcery, and it's predecessors, he locked away the worst criminals, built laws, and changed the city for the better by far. It is a pity I never met him in person, we would have much to discuss I would think.
But, this group of humans I met, I regret what happened to them after they arrived here, with their good intentions. Even the cleric, whose hatred of our kind is obvious put aside his differences with only the intent to be well behaved, and they were attacked, and betrayed, and embroiled in secrecy. Those necromancers give wizards a bad name, alive or undead, with what they have done.
I am glad they survived...
