Note lore:
Important note; I personally finished the conan wiki with the current up to date notes, as such i will not be updating this reply any more:
http://conanexiles.gamepedia.com/Lore
Note just after the slab @ r18. Free waterskin next to it
NOTE: This one is copied multiple times for every spawnpoint
I am beaten. Left to rot among the ruins of the past. There are others here. Slaves, bandits and cannibals. Exiles from lands I've never heard of.
Some of them try to scrape a life from the wasteland, scrabbling in the rocks and sand for their own place. I cannot go on. The life that I left behind haunts me. The sun over the glittering spires of Belverus is forever denied me. The smell of my daughter's hair..
I will pass the ghost fence and this cursed land will finally end me.
To whoever reds this note, I leave the last of my water and this message.
Stranger you have my pity. You do not know how cursed you truly are.
Note just north of the previous one on top of a fallen down pillar:
NOTE: This one is copied multiple times for every spawnpoint
Gods curse this sandstorm!
We were forced to take refuge before the wind scoured the skin from our faces.
There is something in the storm. Beasts. We hear the skittering of their paws outside the ruins and their howls mingled with the screaming winds.
The men are scared. I've put them to work crafting rudimentary weapons and torches from the loose stones and rough plants that dot this place.
I've yet to meet beasts that liked fire, or the bite of the axe.
Found a massive priests note, going to upload pictures later
"It is amazing to me that the other people who share this place with me call this The Exiled Lands. If I could name it, I would call it the Blessed Lands, because it truly is a place of great blessings. In my youth, I was a rash and foolish man, the youngest son of a minor noble of Poitain. At that age I was consumed by my love of wealth and status and I drank and gambled with other young men of questionable character. Eventually my father, when confronted with my gambling debts, gave me no choice. He simply shipped me off to a monastery, to contemplate my sins. I was not an admirable monk, I confess freely. More concerned with my own amusement than the state of my soul, I often stole from the monastery by night and returned with stolen casks of ale and food. I was popular among the other monks, of course, but the Abbot began to see my influence upon his entire congregation. Eventually, he decided to be rid of me. One night I awoke, bound hand and foot with sturdy ropes, while two burly men lifted me from my bunk and carried me down the winding stone staircase of the monastery. The Abbot accompanied them, wringing his hands and pleading to me with his eyes. "My child, the choice breaks my heart, but I am losing the others. These men will take you away, somewhere far away, where you can start a new life away from your father or Mitra. It will be the best for this monastery and the best for you. Tell me that you understand" he pleaded. What if they decided to slit my throat, Abbot? Then my death will be on your hands. I spat. I have assurances that they will not. He glanced nervously at the men carrying me. I wish you the best of your new life, child. He turned away. I was put into the back of a wagon, covered with a sackcloth, and left to my terrified thoughts. For how long I traveled, I cannot say. I was passed from one set of hands to another, always with the clink of gold to seal the exchange. Other captives joined me in the wagon , men and women from different lands. Some were nobleman, some were commoners. All were as confused as I was about where we were going and why. Most of us assumed that our captors were Shemitish slavers. On the last night of my old life, we were given our rations, a thick heavy stew of vegetables and meat. Like the others, I ate ravenously. And like the others, when whatever poison they had put into the food kicked in, the darkness swallowed me. The next day, my new life began. I awoke, stripped naked, in the sands of a vast desert. There were no people to be seen, just some ruins and the vast emptiness of the sands. I was disoriented, but I chose a direction and set out, hoping to find anybody or anything. I almost died. A sandstorm came sweeping in, swirling sand and lightning and I fled before it, taking shelter in the shadow on an old tumbled statue. There were beasts in the sandstorm. I could hear them moving around and howling with the screeching wind. I repented my life then, thinking of my family for the first time in years. I prayed to Mitra to protect my soul and I forgave the Abbot, who had been a good man trying to protect his flock. Mitra spoke to me then, and his words were for me alone. He wrapped me in his presence, and kept the creatures from finding me. I gave myself wholly to Mitra, there in the darkest hour of my life. I came from the desert a new man and, guided by Mitra, I found this place. This shrine is dedicated to my god and to every Exiled soul, far from home and weary, who could use a place to rest. I leave this story here in the hope that it will inspire others. I have gone ahead, deeper into the Exiled Lands. Mitra has told me that there is much work to do."
Razma's journal 7 is at M1 ontop of the scaffolding. Once canceled cannot be heard/read again
Razma's journal 8 is at DE 3, at a bench
First Mate's report at V5 talks about a constellation and how a beast appears at midnight
Note about hanuman at T14 inside a cave
Oh lord of the darkness,
Of men who are not men,
Give us strenght and suffering,
In equal measure.
Let our bodies be pleasing to you,
And our minds quieted from this conscious thought.
Let us find the inner rages,
And loose them upon the earth.
We give our sacrifice into your hands,
Appease your thirst in the slickness of blood.
Grant us the power of your might,
The eternal strength of Hanuman
Hunters note - Imps, seem to be randomly dropped from exiles
Very few times in my life have i encountered such loathsome and foul creatures as these degenerate beings that i have taken to calling imps.
Their leprous appearance inspires a deep revulsion because of their blasphemous similarities to my own form. How these creatures came to be and what they are doing here, is a mystery for me.
The creatures emanate from a cave along the banks of the river, though I chose not to investigate it too closely, I suspect it is their lair.
The vicious bastards will attack on sight, howling and slashing with their claw tipped fingers. They aren't particularly strong, but I suspect they are overwhelming in numbers.
One final warning, I encountered one of these creatures who seemed to be suffering from some kind of disease. When it approached me, it began to shake and expand, shuddering violently until it exploded in a cloud of blood and ichor. The searing ichor eats into skin and cloth alike, so I recommend moving away whenever one of these creatures approaches
Mercanary note, village at DE 3
Can be found ontop of a roof
