The Journal of Morvhan Lumine

The First Entry

To those who are reading this, I wish you in good health and fortune 15th of Junir, Year 1245 My name is Morvhan Lumine, a dwarf from the hills south of the plains. My upbringing is unusual to my dwarven peers. You see, I was dropped on the head while my parents were considerably drunk to the beverage known as "Fireworks". It packs quite a punch, so I've heard. Since I was dropped on the head, I became more of a bookworm instead of being well a drunkard. This trait is so uncommon in our village that lacking this trait was the sole reason that my peers keep messing up. Not to mention that being this aware is considered being an outcast an a reason to tease me about. During those years, I developed a love for medicine and the arcane arts. So much so that every penny I would save is used to buy tomes pertaining to topics such as herbs and magick. Just a slight mention is enough to send me throwing away money. I confessed to my parents that I wanted to be a cleric, serve and heal the people...But man did they not give a single flying fuck when I told them about it (excuse the obscenity; it is hard for me to reminisce on that part). I guess booze and shagging each other's better than hearing the aspirations of their son. When I turned the age of maturity, I left the village and went to a temple. For five years I was trained to be forgiving and help others with mending wounds whilst protecting them with defensive spells As it was mandatory for students such as myself to test our abilities, I ventured west to the woods, in search of people to help with. I hear some monster were wondering about but that matters not. The welfare of others matters more.

22nd of Junir, Year 1245 To those who find this journal, do not venture into these woods. They are pursuing me. Turn back. Don't go looking for me. Go to safety. JUST TURN BACK. I hear them coming. Their clanking boots, their swords glinting in the moonlight. This may be my last day alive. Dear G--- (scribbled ink, unrecognizable to the eyes)--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

25th-26th day of Junir, Year 1245 I have found a new journal here at the inn and bought it for a meager price. I woke up in a cave with six other companions, all strangers to me. We tried to make introductions but a group of kobolds and goblins attacked us. We were forced to work together, all seeming well. After a short pause, we made short introductions: Axel Bella Fiore: An elven wizard Si Garret: A teifling warlock Jacob Shrew: A human fighter Joshua Deospero: A human wizard ...and a dead body? There wasn't much to be said as a troll has awoken from the depths of the cave and a kobold berserker. We opted to run towards the gate as it is better to live than to die this early on. We rushed towards the gates and with one last added touch, I flipped the troll off

We exited the cave with daylight glaring at us. My other companions, as it seems, have mysteriously left except for Deospero and Garret. Deospero wanted to go north and I agreed with him whilst Garret wanted to go east. If we had only ventured straight, then we wouldn't have made this mess. The Tiefling Warlock pestered us to follow him through the rocky mountains that lay east of our current position, possibly to find treasure. As we reach a foothold in the mountains, four bears appeared from the west. Two brown bears, a larger one and one with wings? The latter two I haven't seen in my lifetime. I could see them coming towards, sniffing the air for the scent of our flesh. I ushered the wizard to go, so I could guard the rear; then again, what can a newly-made cleric do in the field of offense? I was too slow. The bears got to Deospero first and attacked him. He gave a few hits but was still battered by their claws and jaws. I healed him but it was inadequate to his overall well-being. While the wizard and I were focused on the bears, the warlock suggested a "tactical retreat" with him the only one going while us staying put. It was just a gods damn escape for him; to leave us all behind! Such plan is befitting the way others view the warlocks: traitors. Why? Because their kind, their very name is Waerloga, meaning deceiver. Perhaps I am being too harsh. I'll have to set this straight. As he was making his escape, that was the only time he saw that a giant tree has fallen upon the path. We were trapped, and desperate. I doubted that we were going to make it out alive. I suggest that we outrun the bears and head somewhere safe, but I do not know where we would go. The sprinted through the bears as Deospero cast an illusion to distract them. It was a blur of action. I didn't know where to go but away from the bears. It was nerve-racking.