[This tome appears to be written in a primitive form of Galactic Common. It must have belonged to the dead Pell nearby.]
I, Arcanist of the Thundercall, write these words on my seventeenth day of self-imposed exile.
I will not return to my tribe until I have discovered works of the masters that will add to the grand tech altars of our domain… and perhaps to Godmaker itself! The Talon of Storms deserves no less an honor.
[Here, a few pages have been torn out.]
This land is strange. So green
and bright. Not like the sacred canyon. Not like the hidden lair of the Thundercall. But there is power in the wind and storms that sweep over the trees and grasses. I, Arcanist of the Thundercall, follow the winds to the west. There, I may find the works of the masters.
[More pages are missing.]
By the glory of the gods! There, amid wood and stone, I see gifts from the masters! They left their works here for me to find. I, Arcanist of the Thundercall, am certain of it. See how they glow as I
approach! The masters welcome their servants and want us to have this secret power. I shall seize this power for the Thundercall. With the masters to guide me, I will come to no harm.
[Many pages have been torn from this section, which is stained with blood. The remaining text reads as follows.]
I, Arcanist of the Thundercall, am dying. The masters did no harm to me. But the beasts of wood and forest did not heed the masters’ words. They wanted the power for themselves.
I took their lives, but at the cost of my own.
I, Arcanist of the Thundercall, will not witness Stormtalon’s birth, for the masters have called me home.