Journal Entry One
I guess I'll start off with how I got in this place. Kinda like it here...
Well, my tribe, the Stormborn, originated from the great Illuskan humans of the North. In fact, we lived in the northern mountain regions of Faerun, and were a war-based clan.
You see, I wasn't as great and powerful as I am now-I was but a weakling, with little strength. I was destined to become either a Mage, Scribe, or Map-Maker-I wished to become a Map-Maker, due to my love of exploration.
We lived near four large caves, each with many sub-caves that were useful for ambushes and shelter, but there was one cave we never used-Hells' Cave, a dark cavern that reeked of blood and evil, and legend was that it led to the entrance of the Nine Hells.
So, after mapping out the nearby forests and village a few times, it became a personal goal to map out the caves. I did so, and by the time I had recreated seven-maps of each cave (cept' for Hells' Cave), the Elders grew tired of me. At the age of nine, they gave me an ultimatum;
To be exiled in the perilous mountains, or map out Hells' Cave.
This would be rather cruel to a normal person, but to Stormborn kin, this was a light punishment for being a useless body. If I had chosen to become an Exile, I would've died anyways because of the wildlife, horrid weather, and of course, the enemy clans.
So, I did what I could. I entered Hells', and found myself in a small opening with a dozen tiny puddle-ponds filled with ugly fish and legless, wingless locusts. I looked around for a few minutes, and heard a few crashes.
*Kkr-auk*
They (the Elders and a few Soldiers) had started to cave me in, laughing at me, taunting how useless I was. When the mouth of the cave was nearly filled, they stopped, leaving tiny cracks where light peeped out of.
For a decade and a half, I slept, ate, and hunted in that dreaded cave. When daylight came, I would stab the fishes and insects with rocks, eating them vicously and quickly. I'd try removing the barricade, only to find that they put more rocks reinforcing the rock-wall. I made a personal project of making it a living space and to excercise my growning strength-to destroy my clan for revenge.
At age eighteen and three-quarters, I was fit and quick, but everything I had trained for didn't prepare me for what was about to happen next.
Six Tentacle-Heads (or Ill-i-thids, like my friend Roman said) marched in, bringing me deeper into Hells'. After fourteen days, I was exhausted; these Ill-i-thids were tireless and my feet were blistered from run-walking, hitting sharp rocks and getting bit by strange, winged ant-scorpions.
On the fifteenth day, I could tell there was no returning... The twists and turns of the Hells' Cave was impossible to remember unless you had some kind of powerful brain. I don't think the Tentacle-Heads even knew what they were doing.
But then, at (night? day?) four red-plate wearing Paladins marched in, attacking them with vigour, slicing off their heads easily. I remember it clearly; there were two women, a man, and a portly, hooded one. The man pushed me into a passage, telling me, "Run! Run to Sanctu[ary?]m!"
I ended up in a dark cave with an ugly, little, grey man named Nurtle who told me to give a map to Ivlysar, a supposedly long-dead man, so says a woman in the Seekers' H.Q. I walked the way into a large, gate-protected city known as Sanctuary, part of New Dunwarren.
So, there you have it. How I ended up in Sanctuary. Whew! My hand is all cramped, now! Better put somethin' cold on it or el-damn it, I'm doing it again!
