The journal has seen better days. From the damage to the front cover it has been exposed to extreme heat or a naked flame. The early dozen or so pages are missing, only tattered and charred edges remain. Entries are made in a firm, flowing script.

date - unknown.

Today I must face an unpleasant truth. I am both alone and lost, my exact location is a mystery but I fear I am miles below the surface. Now is not the time to ponder the how's or why's of my predicament, I fear the bundle of torches I stole when I escaped my gobin captors will not last forever. All I can do is explore and hope I find some place of refuge before my strength and the light fades. Torm, guide my footsteps.

This town, Sanctuary it's inhabitants call it, is a strange place. On the one hand you can oft-times find stout hearted companions, on the other I have seen the abomination that is the undead within the very city limits themselves. Rumours abound of the cause of the dead's restlessness.

Fortunately on my arrival here I was able run small errands for the townsfolk, earning enough to purchase some modest armor and an honest blade. With Torm's blessing and these tools I was able to prevail when I encountered a small horde of zombies in an abandoned building.

If the undead are to be found within the city limits I must be on my guard at all times...