What date is it? I don't know. I have lost all sense of time. No sun to guide me... It's cold. So very cold down here. Why must it be cold? Why can't it be warm? I am alone... all alone. Me and the creatures of the Dark. I run, run, run, but I can turn to anywhere.

It's warmer now... I don't know how many days or weeks have passed since I met Vince, my companion and friend. At first I thought that he was just another critter of the Dark, out there to kill me, out there to tear my flesh asunder. But he did not. He spoke to me... it was strange. I haven't spoken to anyone but you, diary, in the last months, years. I am weak, but not so weak anymore.... he explained he was an unclaimed familiar, cast away by his former master, a wizard. I was very wary of him, but somehow, I couldn't believe he would lie to me. So now it's just Vince and me against the Underdark... I had no hope, but now I have.

The joy overwhelms me, diary. At long last, I found other humans. I spied a settlement, guards posted about it, walled and apparently safe.

I am sitting here on my vantage point, feeding my dear Vince with my last bit of food while I nibble on some lichen, watching the guards patrol the gates.

Vincent tells me to enter the town, but I am hesitant... I enjoy this moment... the moment of a state of soon-to-be safety. After our next rest, we shall set out and enter the town!

This place is horrible. The guards eye Vince warily, the people stare at him as if he was a monster... how can my friend be called a monster? Don't they see how his scales glimmer in the torchlight? Can't they sense his intelligent, dark eyes? Can't they feel how benevolent he is to me?

I wish this was the worst. But it is not. I entered the tavern of "Sanctuary". Immediately, people tell me it would be against the rules to have my friend with me. I am fuming with rage and the quill is trembling as I write. They call my only loyal friend a beast? They doubt his integrity?

But, diary, it's even worse. A hin, short and feisty, attacked my dear Vincent.. he drove a dagger through his perfect, scaled flesh... I had to see him die in front of my very eyes - I had to see his blood sprinkle the floor of the inn. It felt as if someone had cut my wrists open.... the hin took my only friend... I will kill him. I will kill him, and if it's the last thing I do.

But alas, diary, there is some light. One especially gloomy Dark, Vincent told me more about his former master, and how he summoned Vince for the first time. I know that he can never truly die on this plane. Even if his physical body is killed, it can be summoned back here. If not for this, diary, I would no longer be here to write this.

Yet it was possible... Vince is here again, nudging my side playfully, begging for some meat. I tell him to stop, and I try to relax, but I can not... all I can think of is how the hin thrust his dagger into my dearest friend. He will pay; this I vow... but now we're tired, Vince and me, and it's time to rest...

It's good not to be alone.

It's dark and cold in the Underdark... I can see the Shadows wherever I go, I can feel the beasts, watching us... How am I to protect my dear Vincent in this wretched place? I do not want to lose him - without him, what purpose do I have? We've been together for so many months now that he's more than just my familiar - he's my friend, my best and only friend.

Today, we were driven out of town by the Watch. "No potentially dangerous 'beasts'", they said, and each word was like being hit by a hammer. I was to either send my dearest friend away or to leave this place they call "Sanctuary".

The choice was easy.

Now I am sitting here, in my room in the Mushroom. It's cold. Vince is hungry... I will buy him some food from the deep gnomes. I don't know what to do next... I am slowly running out of coins, and me and my dear Vincent aren't wanted in Sanctuary where I could earn some... I figure we'll have to get by in a different way, maybe living off the mushrooms and lichen and rats of the Dark...

But it doesn't matter... I can see Vince flap his wings as he is begging for me to buy his food. I can see his eyes, I can touch his tiny little claws, I can pet his scaled back. Nothing matters anymore; we're here and we live.

Dear diary,

we got something to eat and we're tired, Vince and me. I thought I should maybe write a song for him... if only I had my old lute! But at least, I can hum the melody to him. I can see him as I write, nibbling on some rothemeat. I wish I could draw, my dear diary:

He's only very small, his leathery wings spanning half a metre if extended. Their scaly skin is almost translucent when he spreads them, and hued in dark, cavernous tones, with just a hint of green. Oh, you should see him... his scales sparkle faintly in the light of a lantern, bathing him in the most beautiful hues. His snout is short and stubby for a dragonkin, cool to the touch; maw lined with white fangs, like the ebony Luskan uses to import. But the most marvelous thing are his eyes; their lizardlike intelligent countenance watching me even now as I write, his restless nature asking me right now if we are going to sleep soon. Yes, I answer, we shall rest my friend, and pat his scaled head gently, running my fingers along his tiny horns...

But enough for now, dear diary. It's late and the oil of my lantern is running out. May the new dawnless day bring us something.