A book lies on Jastran's desk in her quarters, unlocked or bound by anything, viewable by anyone who would happen to be there in game...

The book itself is made out of deerskin, found on the surface. The pages are paper often used by the masses in major cities, likewise on the surface.

The first 20 pages detail different operations and strategies for success in combat, though none of them seem to relate directly to any defence of Sanctuary. The first 3 pages relate to defence against cavalry and large numbers of footmen on an open field, the next two detail defence against mages and priests in the same situation, and continues in that pattern for plains (pages 1-5), defence of a city (pages 6-10), assualting a city (pages 11-15) and mountanous terrains (pages 16-20). The mountanous terrains pages seem to have been worn down more, and have several corrections to the otherwise neat hand, and a small fireburn on the page marking an accident while studying one late night. The next two pages seem to talk about coordination and leadership. Slipped inside between pages 21 and 22 is a small note, seeming to be a bookmark at first. It reads simply:

"My dearest Sister,

Today my troupe and I have headed to Firehammer Keep to defend the frontier cities from the Hullack threat. I'm not much one for words, or for writing, but I want you to know that I will return to you, even if I have to pull my own troops out and let the keep fall. I will return, and our loyalty to you we shall swear.

Your brother, in arms and blood, Daniel Moonfall"

This letter seems as if it had once been damp, but is no longer, some sections slightly darker then the others, and harder to bend.

After two blank pages, leading up to page 25, which oddly enough seems to be marked page 40, the journal entries begin...

I have respect here, where I thought I never would. Not from the commoners, who place fickle trust in those who they fear, and even fickler trust in those who they love, but those who mean something to me. My acquantances respect me, my superiors (if in time served and not rank) may not respect me, but seem to know that I am not a failure. However, there is one man... if I can even call him that, for his people enslaved myself. Unvaria. I will never know his legacy, but I was there for the ending. Before that fatal charge of death, he showed me that I am more then just a person. I do not normally ramble on about such things, they are for those who believe we are still on the surface and can play petty games. However, down here, the land ruled by the Drow, I was paid a compliment by one who I believed I was working against. Now he's gone, luck faded and jaded until nothing was left. His words show me that my work effects people. I have not let the loss bogg me down. I refused to believe that my promotion was a measure of my success, but more a measure of the Watch needing competent people who can handle the crowds with a tounge instead of a sword in command. Tymora shown upon the watch when Lockwood was not chosen to be in my position.

Otherwise, there are a multitude of people here who I have learned to avoid. Some of them demand my presence with kind words or demanding language, but I must deal with them. I miss the surface, being a leader and not some second rank in an organization led by .... There are too many others in the city, too much intrigue. Fine. It shall be dealt with, but I don't like it. My brother lives on somewhere. I know this is true. I keep saying it, because some day I will look back and know that it was not true, that I didn't protect him. But now, I say I did. He is safe.

I have one of my old rings. Anwick found it, on a hobgoblin, or a gnoll. Some uncouthe species. I wonder who lost their's now.

To ye who we sword loyalte, comrades forever

When I first met Shane, he was making a warning to the city about nearby ogres. We barely spoke, I just introduced myself and he himself, and we moved along. In the past time, we've done so much together it seems like there was never a time when we weren't together. Our histories are exact opposites, but in some ways the same. Neither of us are human.

The ex-spellguard Councillors are all dimwits when it comes to being a councillor. Bhast uses Alex as a pillar now, like Alex used to do with Toboerski. Bhast made the mistake of insulting me repeatedly in front of Ronus. Ronus got in his face, saying I was one hell of a Watchman, and he ought to give me respect. I never knew Ronus was on my side, even if I had suspected it in the past. The Spellguard and Watch will be calling for war soon. As Ferrington says, if the Council won't listen to the Spellguard and Watch, then they aren't fit to rule. Martial law might be declared.

[scrawled beneath..] Evermore, not forever

Memnon was killed. He went insane and decided it was best to attack me. He really lacked insight, forgetting that he was behind 5 locked doors, not 2, and only unlocked two. He was taken down easily, as he forgot to use his protection spells. I wonder what the council will do with his stuff, it was pretty powerful.

I'm never doing any of the spellguards dirty work again. Ferrington thinks he can just weep up a bit and make a convincing case, but what he was proposing was far too convient for it to likely be true. I'm letting them handle it. I'm the only face of the Watch right now, and I'm not letting some idiot citizens do anything. He thinks he's so mighty with his "hunt against the abberation" when his own organization is against him. I don't know about Denten. I hope he's convinced that I'm not against him. I hold high respect for the Seekers, but I'm still confused as to why they're good friends. The Society wants everyone to stay here and fight the abberation, and the seekers want to reach the surface. Conflict of interest?

Tane is gone. We won't need to go to war. Too bad, I had around a dozen agents lined up in lower to aid us. They'll just go back to their normal duties, I suppose. A letter was sent to Garv, no responce. They should just work with us. Casualties on both sides leave us vulnerable to the drow who will be attacking soon. Plans have been made for their leader, right now. Good thing, if he's gone maybe Lower will settle down. Toboerski had an old map... that would be useful, but it was taken with the group who found the surface.

Shane is planning something. Something big. I wonder how he'll pull it off, but I know he will. He's put too much effort into it so far.

Loyalte, sworn to that who lead, honor, binds us to our cause, power, allows us to perform our cause, tyranny, shall be what our cause fights against

With alarm, fear, and dread, and an ill-lit view of my impending doom, I write this among the flickering candle light of my room on the 2nd day of Eleasis, as far as anyone can estimate forgotten in these deep, dark lands. Terror nor idleness of duty sway my hand, allow me to rub the quill against the dry parchment, but yet memories of all, fallen kingdoms, lost heroes, and shattered relics, all remain within the written word. What I write here shall be my last work, the last work of Jastran Elvi'qua'thannor in these lands, should the breath of life be strong enough to bind me till this world until that time.

Before me, around me, I hear the whisperings of the faded memphits, and write, scarring forever the blank parchment before me with my thoughts. Fresh shall these thoughts remain within my mind, and unfaded will the lines remain when they are found by the next in my line. These revelations I shall discover; truths held dear, treachery uncovered at last, brewing future troubles and anticipation of a single moment of doom. Dread hangs high in the air, and I see the spectre of my enemies before me, I heard them when I tread the streets. My word shall be spread, I hope it is not too late.

As predatory vultures circle out of legend, over a weary wanderer who, lacking in provisions, malnourished, clinging to the vital thread, yet staggers forth across a barren waste, resolute to end her travels on her feet despite impending doom... so do they, clad with dark knives rather than bright uniforms, lurk in my every shadow, so do they hound me, as hunters closing for a kill, so will they see me dead-- and perhaps better to die free than live a slave to Ivlysar's men.

I will not go the way of Frederick and Melinda, and so many others; my struggle, the dark end that I meet shall not be wreathed in shadow. Even if they come for me, and they will, even if I disappear into the darkness as have all the others have who dared to unshroud our city's troubled past... my reckoning here shall perservere past my death, a cursed voice screaming condemnation upon traitors.

The order of those bearing red and black have attempted, using edicts rather then words; trickery rather then truth. They attempt to take over, to bring the city under their control. At last I find I have little support for such, and shall propose amongst the others a plan.