This is the Journal of Vanyc. He started this journal shortly after leaving on his journey to the new continent, and will reflect that. It is encrypted, as he is a follower of Vecna, secrets must be kept from prying eyes. Secrets must, however, exist for those worthy. Thus. A journal, and thus, encryption.
Encryption so far: Written in arcane code one would expect of a wizard’s spell-book.
Before this page seems to be test codes, and arcane scrawls. Entire chunks of pages is full of pure, often overlapping scribblings of magical theory and runes.
Decrypted, the entries read:
Sir Vanyc, first arrival:
I have made landfall. My god has given me direction. I am to rip from this continent all of its secrets. All to be taken and hoarded in his name. I am his knight, I do his will. Though the boat was attacked, which bodes unwell. Though thugs interceded when I attempted to retire for the night, I know the way is clear.
Of course, this damned wound doesn’t help. Large axe, shoulder, and a lucky blow. I parried most of his other strikes, this one.. cut deep. I still feel it, biting to my bone, grating deep within my soul.. or maybe it was the medicine the woman applied. I could not turn her down for fear of fostering suspicion, yet I do not trust what she applied. I should speak on them, but that is another time, as I grow to learn them better, I will write on them, on their secrets. So it is known.
I will sleep poorly this night. My thoughts are on my wife, my widow. I should rid my mind of her. I will never again have her. Never again see her. Never again will she be my wife. The pain of this wound lingers still, hopefully the night brings relief from it. If I can find sleep. Humidity, shitty craftsmanship, and natural selection at its very worst. This… shanty town… reeks of despair and hatred. I must leave here. My new.. companions.. may prove useful. I would not go so far as to say necessary, but useful.
Praise be to the Lord of Secrets.