Field Report (Inner Nayos)
This article is about the objects found in Inner Nayos. For the object found during the story Hell Breaks Loose, see Field Report. Field Report (Inner Nayos)
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- Location
- Inner Nayos
(Horn of Maguuma) - Type
- Book
- Interact
- Yes
- Destructible
- No
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Interactive map |
Field Report are books found in Inner Nayos written by Operative Selly. These books follow the field reports found during the achievement Well-Versed.
Contents
Text[edit]
Field Report 9[edit]
Book on top of a crate at Grove of the First Kryptis.
I am out of sorts.
In recent days, I believed myself a master spy, a valuable prisoner of war, and a hubristic plaything for capricious demonlings. The latter is the only belief that has proven true.
Camouflaged in view of Heitor's Gate, I tracked the comings and goings of the enemy's patrols. No discernable patterns or schedules emerged. Rather than return empty handed, I lingered to collect more data.
I can only conclude (in retrospect) that there was no pattern—the patrols were likely at the conflicting whims of Heitor and Ignaxious. This is evidenced both by my data and the fact that while the first several patrols marched past me, the last wilessly stumbled directly into my hiding spot. Not to mention my firsthand experience with Ignaxious countermanding the orders of Heitor's guards.
More on that later. A pack of the aforementioned doglike demons approaches. I must move.
—Operative Selly
Field Report 10[edit]
Book on the floor south east of Grove of the First Kryptis.
I am safe for a time.
My notions of master espionage shattered, I was dragged by a Kryptis patrol inside Heitor's Gate, ostensibly to be presented to Heitor herself.
Ignaxious—see Field Report 2—observed my presence and ordered I be released into his custody instead. The patrol leader resisted initially, insisting Heitor's orders were to deliver any detainees to her directly, but after a few moments of silence (during which I can only assume Ignaxious appealed to him telepathically), the patrol leader's resistance turned quickly to acquiescence.
Recalling his ambitions and loyalties, I deceived Ignaxious, posturing as a high-ranking member of the ward with valuable information. He believed my fabrications initially and enthusiastically secreted me through a series of protals to a location secure enough to question me at his leisure, telepathically.
I believed myself quite strong, mentally, and my Astral Ward training did help, to a point. But as the questioning became increasingly spirited, my façade cracked. Soon Ignaxious discovered the truth, and no questioning technique wounded me as much as his final words: "A research lackey turned ineffectual mole. Feed it to the rabble."
—Operative Selly
Field Report 11[edit]
While I am labeling these field reports with 90% certainty as to accuracy of the numbering, I do recognize the optimism one must apply to view these as "field reports." I do what I must to stave off the further erosion of my spirits.
After escaping the "rabble"—wait, I suppose I should cover that first.
Ignaxious's assertion that they would find me adequate dinner fare was thankfully erroneous. Embarrassingly, I believe they even mistook me for one of their kind at first. From a distance, assuredly, as this seems an impossible (and highly offensive) mix-up to me. But it is one that I'm grateful for, nonetheless.
So, after cleaning myself of slobber and engaging in polite—if hard to follow—conversation, I skirted my way along the land's edge in an attempt to steer clear of both physical and mental probes and continue my mission of gathering intel. My hope is that if and when Lady Peitha's invasion begins, these field reports will be discovered and put to some use.
Granted, they've only seved to document my own self-centered tribulations thus far. Given that they will likely end up as low Kryptis excrement, my disappointment in myself is less than it might otherwise be.
—Operative Selly
Field Report 12[edit]
On the cliff, south east of Fortress of the Founding.
After "escaping," I have moved on to an observation point along what I believe to be the southern edge of Inner Nayos, overlooking a hive of loyalist activity.
The "rabble"—who seem to have take pity on me, sharing bits of edible flora—incessantly reiterate that the area was not the loyalists' to occupy and that their presence is unwanted. Given the unfriendly nature of the Kryptis roaming the area, I can understand their anger.
My new friends seem to greatly fear the nearby area to the west, which I will attempt to observe next. One of my benefactors—Skup, the others call him—referred to it as something like, "the door things only go in."
—Operative Selly
Field Report 13[edit]
North west of Secluded Pond.
My friends would not follow me to my new observation point high among waterfalls—not for fear of water, but for fear of the door I'm observing.
It's unclear what occurs here. Loyalist enforcers patrol the area. Other Kryptis cower in fear, but they are never harmed. At times, they are invited inside the nearby structure. The door looks no less inviting (and decidedly less fleshy) than others in this forsaken land, but perhaps it is beyond my Tyrian eyes to discern the subtleties of Nayosian architectural style.
I will attempt to question my rotund friends to see if I can glean any more clues from their chittering.
—Operative Selly
Field Report 15[edit]
On the ground near The Queen's Procession.
I was just awoken by screams and what sounded like the low reverberations of beating wings.
I've closely watched the goings-on in what appears to be an amphitheater or coliseum below. I can only assume it has seen better times. Or at least more significant times. I recall Grink chittering about it being a place of historical infamy, but I'm unable to verify that claim.
A few Kryptis come and go, but for the most part it seems unoccupied. Until now. I do not want to meet whatever creature is associated with those reverberations. It's easy to believe this was once a place of tragedy. Perhaps one day this great arena can be a venue for glorious happenings if Lady Peitha succeeds. I hope I live to see it.
For now, I must find safer refuge, so I will work my way past this decrepit arena and continue north.
—Operative Selly
Field Report 16[edit]
South of Temple of Charybda.
I've taken refuge beneath a tower on the western bluff. I've tried to observe the differences between the nearby large and small extractors. The smaller towers appear to have weak points that could be exploited by air, where the large extractor seems fortified against conventional methods of attack and might require a more indirect means of assault.
Perhaps the larger pool feeds the extractor? Or it needs to be fortified because of the greater resources it feeds on? They appear organic, but it's unclear if they are grown or simplfy placed by the Kryptis.
Frankly, I've had a hard time with any further analysis—there is a cacophony in the tower above, and at first I thought that perhaps I'd stumbled across an escape route. The lordling above, an apprentice of some sort, ceaselessly rattles on about creating a portal to—of all places—the Wizard's Tower!
I came to realize in short order that the chance of this self-important novice achieving such a feat was nil. My hopes were dashed and my thoughts addled from his carrying on. I will move to the northeast in search of a way out of this predicament—or, if nothing else, to report on any significance the area may have.
—Operative Selly
Final Field Report[edit]
On the cliff, north of Eventide's March.
I know that friendly forces wait just beyond. I know you are all there, though I cannot see anything through this accursed wall of toxic fog. The bridge below, just behind what the Kryptis call Eventide's March, lies broken—but surely I could glide across this gap to the massive Mourning Tree that I know sits just beyond.
Many Kryptis have come and gone from the cathedral-like gate-front as I observed from above, seemingly to mourn their lost loved ones. Lost, I can only guess, like Till and Bosh and Grink. And Skup. Not unlike myself.
I wrote some time ago that I have to lie to myself. To keep my morale up. To do my duty. But the time has come that I must do otherwise. I have to take action. I have to.
—Selly
