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New World ALL Lore dump datamine



07_ShatteredMountain_Body_01_01**A page written in the Corrupted language, with sketches of Dryad bodies. Circles have been drawn around their hearts, heads, and hands.**

Ubahâh Mabayibok ñâv ba kepo mixanfep kengâmbi, fa paitkâ ubatânfâp yi uwâ'abto 'ag ambi. 'Aktâ, ngek mambetu mikor yâk'upambi ngo pa xa miwod mi a. Ngo imi yâk'upambi kuguok ebikning vebambi.
07_ShatteredMountain_Body_01_02**Covered in the illegible, but unmistakable, language of the Corrupted, the images sketched here show the Corruption pillars being tended to, almost akin to gardening, with parts being trimmed, pruned, and harvested.**

'Anggur ñirok atwakambi. Ñirok abdâxab ambi. Yi if 'ag ubaban deñâna uwâgap'a 'ufoxo axo. Fif 'ag 'ung p'âyi kâka, xak'ufâ af mi ba.
07_ShatteredMountain_Body_01_03**The text of the Corrupted fills most of the page, save for an image drawn in the center: a crystal or gemstone of some kind, sparkling on a Corrupted altar.**

Ubuwâveti guf xa p'âta pad xañir wobi pinviñ dâ Aeternum deñ pa pad dewif migana p'ânduxo mi a. Fiv kâme ekâi pad tid uwâyâr ru panuxo xanfep kuñ midewif ambi, veg pagmax kâx 'ag ambi.
07_ShatteredMountain_Body_01_04I have remained here, hidden, writing all I can while I am still able to do so. A sound fills my mind at times, and images as well... they seem familiar, but I cannot understand them. I fear this Corruption is overtaking me. Perhaps, in my writings, I will find a way to stop it. Perhaps I will find a way to save myself from ubapampu he dekâp'ux mipung pad Euwâveti miñ vob romena mad pad mabayib mingoñ. Eâbtakendu ven a Eâbtativ, mah ven kidebu a.… with the powers they have at their disposal. I am no closer to discovering their long-term goals, but in the short term, it seems as though Isabella has returned from her travels around the island, bringing a number of new converts with her. She seems to be important to the plans underway here. Some of those she has brought may be only to increase their numbers, but others seem specially selected. Experienced smiths, alchemists, men and women of science... it may be that there are plans for some kind of profane construction.

Mah, 'ung, kepo kia. Mah uako 'ung ki xa degi t'onag. De axo depwang hemakte yi tânfâp a. Guf mibtâxo, pap'âyi ru Magmebeg.

... I am unsure how much time has passed, how long I have held myself in this place. My stores are nearly depleted, and the time for escape has long since passed. My only solace is that somehow, whoever finds this may glean some new information from it. I have seen all manner of oddities brought through here in the recent days: hundreds of trees brought from all around this land, carts of ore placed around the base of the Thorn with the Cultists chanting incessantly, boxes and bins and bags stuffed full of unknowable items. Something is happening. Something dreadful. Something... I am powerless to stop.

A axo ketir. Guf mibtâ. A axo ketir. Guf mibtâ. A axo ketir. Guf mibtâ.
07_ShatteredMountain_Body_01_05**A dirty and splattered page, covered with the language of the Corrupted. A drawing of a large blade divides the page, wicked and powerful. While not understanding the words, the writing seems emphatic, eager, almost desperate somehow.**

Fiv bingu guf hemaktexo axo. Ngoñ uwâtânfâp kuk anggidambi mab bingu bip a. Miwod pad pab Magmebeg mab mideh pad pab Magmebeg igambi ambi. Kuñ miwod ig, k'okti, he 'abto.
07_ShatteredMountain_Body_02_01These aren't my mother's poodles.

In the Great Cleave leading to that ominous city of corruption prowl dogs of unnatural color and ferocity. I have taken to calling them Corrupted Hounds for the red veins of Corruption visible and accompanying abhorrent behavior. These aberrations can unhinge their jaws of gnashing teeth wide enough to swallow a turkey whole.

Still, they are kind of cute from a certain angle, aren't they? Mum back home raised bigger dogs--how hard could it be to domesticate one of these? A puppy of one would look just darling in a bow. A gift for a beloved, perhaps?
07_ShatteredMountain_Body_02_02I have not yet been able to locate a pup no matter how deep into this crevasse of corruption I delve. All are full-grown, and fully trained to follow their shambling Masters. Do these Hounds not need to whelp? Do they just regenerate fully-grown as everything else on this strange continent? Further research required.
07_ShatteredMountain_Body_02_03After a grueling battle I managed to slay a red-eyed houndsman in attempts to capture an adult specimen of the beast.

My arms are covered in at least two layers of bandages from wrestling the dog into a makeshift trap and my blood surely left a trail from the snowy pass, but my efforts are not in vain. I sit writing this in incredible pain and incredible pride, gazing upon my new captive before turning in for the night to rest. She's restless, obviously unused to being confined by walls and too strong to remain in the trap for long. I think I shall call her ‘Molly'.
07_ShatteredMountain_Body_02_04Molly is still ruthlessly vicious around me.

I present her with raw meat at feeding time and this seems to quell some of her rage, but not her distrust. She drags the scraps from the wooden bowl I made her in favor of eating in the corner of the wall enclosure. From this vantage point she can keep her eyes on me at all times--always red, always wary.

Food motivation can only take us so far, and ultimately winds up being more dangerous than it is worth to feed her from my own hand.
07_ShatteredMountain_Body_02_05Her behavior still proves too aggressive to let out of the walled-in enclosure. I write now with my left hand as my right has been requisitioned by dearest Molly as a chew toy.

Research into leather leads required—if I could ever get close enough to her neck to sling one around. The dog looks at me with such disdain and disgust, as if I were the one with red fissures and eyes glowing like The Devil.
07_ShatteredMountain_Body_02_06What joy! I woke this morning to find Molly sans her characteristic growling and snapping. She took food more gently from the bowl, obviously cowed by my superior animal handling skills. There is a strange intelligence in her eyes, as if she is beginning to understand the situation.

Could this be how the first man felt taming a wolf?
07_ShatteredMountain_Body_02_07That damnable dog, she was figuring things out--but not in my favor!

I have never seen such intelligence in a canine, to feign docility long enough to convince even an experienced handler like me. Molly did not as much as whimper when I put the leather lead on through the fence. I spoke sweetly to her, told her it was time for a walk, hoping a lack of captivity would bring out her personality. It turns out her personality is evil, and the second she realized she was no longer contained, my dear Molly mauled me, draining me to my last before I woke up in bed again, alone. She ran back North to her true master, I can only imagine.

There are better ways to make profit on this lush continent than lying with the dogs. On a related note, I now certainly have fleas. Corrupted Fleas, at that. A Corrupted Flea Circus, yes, now that could work...
07_ShatteredMountain_Body_03_01Armed with horns and teeth sharper than the average straight sword, the Lava Barb makes a life for itself here in Shattered Mountain. It is not a glamorous life by any means, swimming around in Corrupted waters, but it is a life nonetheless.

Should you go swimming and feel something slice into your ankle, it is already too late.
07_ShatteredMountain_Body_03_02The other Master Fishers call me 'paranoid' and 'prone to conspiracy' but they're not the ones who chose to live life next to a giant half-floating mountain.

They have no idea what it's like fishing in my waters, getting smaller and weaker catches depending on how Corrupted the waters are. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is not my fishing skill or bait that attracts these small fish, but the water itself working against me! I continue to eke out surviving here on my meager fish, meeting with the Greyjacks every so often to discuss how we can cleanse the waters. Even they think I'm overreacting. Life near the crown of Aeternum is an endless slog, made worse by the creeping red tide.




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