Scribal note: This is the only surviving record of the events leading up to the Cataclysm War. It appears to have been the professional journal of a ranking member of some international organization. Most of the names are unfamiliar. The first large piece of the manuscript deals with mundane matters.

...Record begins...

We realized something was wrong when the oracles started speaking in contradictions. “All is well. All is lost,” one said. Others spoke in gibberish (more so than normal). Most simply stared into the distance, minds broken.

Scrying proved fruitless. No new concentrations of aether, no pockets where eyes couldn’t reach. Our first concrete sign was an unusual stirring among the orc tribes of the north. They seemed more organized than usual. The wood elves of the region reported increased large-scale incursions. The numbers of raids were still within the norm, but we dispatched extra forces to investigate.

The next sign came from a caravan travelling from Imperial Byssanthia to the Iron Dominions. The border guards reported that the caravan was attacked by a dragon in the unclaimed border fens, but the hired mercenaries accompanying the caravan managed to defeat it. The odd thing was that the mercenaries then sold the remains of the dragon to an eladrin magus who came from a tower in the fens. This raised some attention since the fens were a well-known dead zone. The only arcane tower in the area was reported destroyed over 600 years before in the civil war that ended the western empire. The mercenaries (a wizard of unknown race and two dragonborn: a sorcerer and a cleric of Pelor) passed through the Iron Dominions on merchant visas and immediately headed for the Nocthis Pass. They vanished into Nocthian custody before anyone from the Organization could arrive to question them. All attempts to find the tower failed.

Two weeks later, all hell broke loose. Quite literally. All high-ranking clerics were awakened by their gods, warning them that something *huge* had levered itself up out of the abyss, casually munching on an entire devil army on the way out. It entered our reality on the western edge of the continent with an aetheric shock that stunned every half-way competent mage over half the world. And then it vanished. Not a ripple left behind. Within an hour, the forces sent to watch the orc tribes reported in. The orcs were gone. Every single member of all known tribes had vanished as if by teleport gate. Those watching the goblins, the ogres, the giants—all said the same. Every malign and malicious creature of the world had vanished at one instant.

The next day, we lost Imperial Byssanthia. A tidal wave of vicious creatures, led by a robed figure riding a dracolich had annihilated the defenders of the major cities simultaneously. The scattered reports that came in after that said that the survivors were being used as food, labor, or sacrifices. Or worse. Within two days, all contact was lost. Scrying spells no longer worked in that area.

The battle for the Iron Dominions lasted a couple of days. There were no survivors. Nocthis closed the passes with landslides and came under siege, but has so far held out. A full week passed without further contact with the enemy. All scouting operations and scrying attempts failed. The enemy’s numbers, organization, leadership—all unknown.

After Byssanthia fell the Council started alerting the nations and gathering the heroes of the realm. Various forces were sent on missions to gather aid (and to get them to somewhat safer territory). These include…

Scribe’s note: at this point the manuscript was damaged by what appear to have been rats. The reconstructed fragments talk of several parties, including one sent on a fool’s errand to recover the Eye of Qa’desh, a rumored artifact capable of reshaping reality. No one expected them to find anything. The next legible text begins…

And we are losing. Badly. There are multiple armies of them, growing each day. Even bolstered by angels, devils, mythic heroes and great wyrms, our forces can barely hold them back. Refugees are streaming south toward the Ikolorn mountains, hoping in vain to find safety.

More damaged pages, fewer this time, but the text has been intermittently damaged. Such damaged portions are marked by ellipses.

...gathered for the final battle. All our forces are committed. No reserves. Here, in the valley of Har Keddo, with the Great Tree at our backs, we will fight. And die. Our only hope is to delay the enemy enough for some of the refugees to hide.

We finally know who we are fighting. The archmage Porolondorola, thought killed in the Final War of the Western Empire had contracted with a demon to take him and his tower out of time. Once he returned, he contracted with the Nameless and allowed It to possess him. That was the force that came out of the Abyss. The enemy of the Dawn War. The Dark Titan, against which all the Primal Gods fought. Our only consolation is that he is stuffed into the flesh of a man[…]

they found the Eye! Contact was lost soon after. Maybe we have a chance! […]It was them. The same ones that awakened Porolondorola were sent after the Eye. If they try to use it, all creation is doomed[…].

The rest of the document is damaged beyond repair.