*this standard size journal has a treated rotheskin cover, on it has a crude emblem of two swords cross recessed into it. It is rarely seen by anyone, save for the watch private in the Temple in New Dunwarren or Drin's closest friends who may catch a glimpse of it when he is preparing to set out for a journey*

For any who read this, know that if you are reading it that I have passed on to become one of Arvoreen's Keepers. If you have found this in the cavernous wastes known as the Underdark, then I have truly failed in my mission.

This journal will serve as an accountment of all the trials I have lived through. Trials of combat, spirit, faith and will.

My name is Drin.

*stuffed between this preface and the next page are numerous maps, drawings, sketches and notes all with little semblance of order and most with bloodstains around the edges*

I found Sanctuary after what seemed like at least a half a weeks walk through these caves. I had only a club with me and some fresh meat from bats that I had killed.

I didn't know what this town had install for me. As I knew nothing of these caves, but if there were humans walking about, I figured it couldn't be as bad as the dwarven fort I had just come from.

Though I will openly admit I was stunned to meet an elf named Morwen exiting the walled city when I first approached. Had I not seen her face first, I would have likely tried to slay her for being Drow.

Our brief encounter gave me hope that I might be able to garner supplies from this Sanctuary town. This will be where I launch my assault from. The place where I surely am facing my ultimate trial.

*a squiggly doodle mark is drawn across the page, obviously indicating another entry*

I found this book actually today and I pressed a dagger against it while the leather was setting. I do this to honor someone I respect, but have never met. Her Journal had a similar design.

I am not good with words. Just typically actions, we will see how this writing goes.

My first trial is to procure suitable armor, seems this place has a lack of honorable merchants. I may have to make my own at this point.

My hand hurts from holding that awkward club I carried for a while. I will write more later.

*the book is badly battered, stains, cuts and gouges now mar the front of it. many pages of inside are soaked in blood and are illegible or are missing altogether*

I cannot believe it...I found my old journal. Sadly all the pages documenting my early time here have been destroyed. Sitting under a pile of corpses would tend to do that.

Honestly, I still can remember that day - waking in a mass grave outside the Canal Gate.

Truly an unsettling feeling.

I had died. The only thing I remember was facing a horde of undead as I covered for the retreat of others. Who was with me, I don't remember.

Surely it was by the sheer will if The Wary Sword that I was brought back...my purpose unserved yet.

Though I remember little of my time before the apparent interruption of my fate, I will do well to keep a log of my travels, confrontations and successes.

*written in a rush*

I have heard a tip that one of my cadets is near the city. I am leaving to investigate.

I really should let Dornal know that he is to become the next warden as the greycloaks would be better fit to be led by a human.

*the book is tucked under his cot in the temple of tyr*