This is the journal of Andrei LeChance, last remaining heir to the LeChance name and supposed "owner" of the LeChance estate. That, however, is a misleading title, for it implies that I have actual control over that accursed place. In truth the estate is owned by the beasts and demons that populate it after the blunders of my grandfather. I am fighting a battle to cleanse and claim what should already be mine. How spiteful that wench called providence is. Sometimes I feel that father knew what I would have to do when he sent me to military school, but I am thankful for the training. My own shortsword has saved my life on more than one occasion here.
I am writing this now, at least a year and a half into this campaign, because now is the first time I have actually had the time to. The first winter I spent here was relatively dry, and we were able to continue our meager progress in the cold. This year, however, is different. The warrens - before a pool of offal and other fluids - is now a tumultuous deluge that swirls in harsh currents. The ground in the cove is so hard to see through the ripples of all the rain and snow that it would be ever too easy to accidentally walk right off of the tidal plain and plummet into the depths. The weald - before already a deadly and hard to navigate forest - is now so covered with snow that one cannot see but ten feet around them in any direction.
I refuse to send the men and women under my employ to certain death in those locales. Already the lives of those lost weigh heavily upon my shoulders, but I must persevere. I have ordered all expeditions ceased, except unless specifically requested and volunteered for. Even then the reason must be good or I shall simply refuse to allow it. This leads me to the reason I am writing this currently.
Throughout our expeditions we have found many small objects of varying make and usefulness. At the time of their discovery, we were too busy making use of them to give them proper study. Now, though, there is plenty of time, and I intend to chronicle the objects and their peculiar properties. Helping me with this chronicle are Lautress and Monique, two self-titled antiquarians (and behind their backs called trinket bitches by the others). I must admit that when they lose the voluminous robes that they wear for expeditions and replace them with a simpler affair, they are quite fetching. But I digress. The following pages shall be filled with the trinkets we have acquired, as well as their appearance and what effects we have been able to discern from them.