// If you have any of those notes which Thorain left behind - and I assure you all, they were quite numerous - this is what you'll be able to read. The "notes" are Thorain's journal as well as some rather hugely spoilerific plot info which shall be sent over on request.

I am Thorain Thainesson, formerly corporal and leader of the Scout Squad of the White Skull mercenary company, wildswalker, necromancer, and - as unlikely a person for such a title as I may be - servant to Tempus and Tymora. This is my tale.

I am not usually a person fond of writing down my thoughts and doings, should these writings come into the hands of those who are my foes or otherwise be seen by those who I do not wish to. Regardless, I have increasingly found myself in grave peril and find that if I die, most likely the only record of my life that there will ever be will be that which I myself write. Thus, I begin writing this journal. I will be making several copies and leaving them at locations that only I know of, should anything happen. Not that too much of extraordinary nature will be recorded here in - but I am a careful man, and I will keep this habit as close as I can.

I will here tell little of my childhood or early manhood as it will likely not be anything to which any reader can relate or is important to my situation here in Sanctuary in any other way than that it offersa clue as to who I am, and what made me.

I grew in the good care of my parents, whose names I will not shed should a foe of mine find the Way or by some other freak coincidence find them. Tymora is the Lady Luck, and Beshaba has a bad habit of pouncing on her chosen. My mother was an elf, a wizard of some small prowess, and she taught me in the basics of her trade and the Art. I do not believe she was a necromancer of trade - nevertheless, the choice to study the unliving, the unseen Shadows of the nether planes and the movement and animation of the energies of the Dead was entirely my own. My father was a retired scout and woodsman, and he too trained me in his ways - those of the fleet-of-foot, the scout, the archer. That was my background when I, at a young age, enrolled with the local militia to protect our town from the odd band of raiding goblins, orcs, or other bandits. And so I began to tread the path which has inevitably seen me wound up in this forsaken place, far beneath the sunbathed surface. Searching for the Path.

// this will be finished one way or the other, due to IG events, even though my char is dead.

I am a necromancer. No other way to put it than that - bluntly and frankly.

I am also a thief. A damn good thief. In a way, I enjoy applying the philosophy, and idea, of a thief unto magic. It has given me quite a few ideas. Some successful, some not. The combination of the "idea" of the thief with the Necromantic arts, with a bit of Illusion help, can create quite interesting effects. For example the Ghostly Visage and Darkness spells are ones I have mastered unto near perfection, as is the art of magical stealth and invisibility. None can see me if I do not wish them to. Not even those of the Clergy, with their divine prayers, or the spiritseers of the wild.

I am a shadow, in both literal and figurative meaning.

I merely wish this applied only to my magical skills.

When I arrived to Sanctuary, I was in the company of the Half-Orc Garul and my compatriot scout, Jarin. Together, we were the last of the Skull Squad.

Our talents were not wasted. We were speedily employed by Barrister Fawkes, who I to this day cannot blame any other faults than pride and thick-headedness. Insanity and megalomania, which others have attributed to him, were characteristics I never saw.

I was with Barrister when he was merely a Sergeant. My first battle I fought with him, the dwarves of the Stoutheart Clan - amongst them, later-thane Kasin Moonsbane who I ever regard my friend - and many other volonteers. It was the Sslal'teesh war, and the lizard hordes were approaching fast. During this war, I acted a scout in the service of the Civil Defence League which, sadly, was not as well used as it could have been. Together with Seeker Ruby Cannonball and miss Amywieng of the later dissolved elven warband - for the record, either's fate remain unknown to me - I became something of a resident authority on the area of Sslal'teesh. There is nary a nook nor crany which I do not know of. And this is where my attention has lain for many a month.

During the Sslal'teesh wars, I was somewhat involved in securing the alliance with the Shadow Kobold tribe - first in making sure, together with Seeker Cannonball, that they were not hostile to us, and would indeed rather enjoy a cooperation in defending the Canal Ward. I also had some interesting chats with the Gruzzle Clan goblins. This was way before the cleansing of the Gruzzle goblins from Goblin Town, or my later charge upon these very same Goblins for some atrocities they had committed. Regardless - none of these dwellers seemed hostile to us, and I to this day regret that we did not pursue an alliance with the Gruzzle clan as well. They would have been very useful, I feel. I was even put somewhat in charge of the Canal Ward, in trying to forge connections with the residents in Lower in order to make it defensible. I had far gone plans in making the Seekers, Stouthearts, and Hoarite temple together with the Elves jointly responsible for this. Many, many other plans were also in the works. At this stage, I was not interested in the Spellguard - they seemed no more strange than any other Wizard's guild I had encountered on the Surface, and did their duty as well as any Watchman or Seeker. I could not understand the rift between these three core organizations. But more on that later.

And then, right in the middle of war, planning, espionage and scheming, something happened. On a raid on a Drow supply stop - which I came on in order to, perhaps, secure some siege equipment for our beleaguered Watchmen - something went horribly wrong. We were mowed down and slaughtered, and in our withdrawal, I fell behind.

Of the next few months, I remember little. I do not wish to remember particularly much of them. Suffice to say I managed to escape once more, with the aid of what magic I had left, and the adeptness with which I can wield a dagger. And so it came that I returned to a changed Sanctuary.

This whole business of animosity and internal strife seems, to me, all hogwash. I cannot, for the life of me, even begin to grasp what utter idiotic folly, what egoistic maniacal urge it is that has driven such great wedges into Sanctuarian society. A surfacer of birth, I have an outsider's perspective of the goings on in this town, and they seem as perplexing to me today as they did when I arrived.

Sanctuary needs unity. On this all agree. For this same reason, I cannot fathom what it is that drives these organizations to bicker even in the face of destruction and doom, and seek to gain more power at the cost of one of the other. For this reason, mainly, I loved Fawkes. Under him, and with the Lizardfolk approaching, at least Sanctuary remained whole. During the time I knew him, he was no tyrant. I will not defend any actions of the Watch which I do not know - merely state that what I saw were attempts from both Seekers and Watch to reconcile with eachother. Even with the Spellguard. For when the Lizardfolk came to our walls, we needed to stand united. This valuable lesson seems to have been forgotten in the months since, as we are ravaged by more and more civil strife.

I never really understood why New Dunwarren seceded from Sanctuary, nor quite frankly why the Spellguard did. If you wish to change something, if you wish to gain power in a system - the best way is to do so from the inside, not the outside. Regardless, this was what had begun to happen when I had returned. Although my memory of these events is distant, hazy - I was often out Seeking at this time, scouting about Sslal'teesh and Mur and Traensyr for the Path. If one every finds my maps, they're in for a treasure-trove! - I can still remember my annoyance at this. It seemed that the precious unity, the cooperation and spirit of community that had been gained so costly during the Wars was being all too quickly discarded, abandoned, and forgotten.

Soon, gang wars were erupting throghout Lower - a place which to me, at this time, was filled with nothing but deranged, paranoid madmen, greedy thugs, scum and villainy - and for a moment, it almost seemed like Sanctuary teetered on the brink of Civil War. At least for some of us. It actually came as something of a surprise that no tyrants took charge (and that the one which tried to was so swiftly overturned), or that Sanctuary fell apart entirely. Instead we have reached some malfunctioning middle stance - not quite tyranny, and not quite civil war. This stance cannot continue for too long a period - it must either proceed into one of the two new positions, or revert to the old stance of a democratic system with broad public support and communal spirit. At least, this is my thought. It must either fall apart or be kept alive through unnatural methods.

Regardless. It was at this time, with my frustration at the current, hypocritical, beaurocratic and deeply flawed system that I approached the one organization which seemed externally focused, focused with finding a path out of this mad hell-hole. The Seekers.

Damn New Dunwarren gates and their infernal dogmatic view of "honour". Note to self: plant self-detonating barrel of rotten fruit strathegically inside temple. Yet to figure out how to make detonation non-lethal.