Uktar 12, 1374

I've escaped the slave pits and am not yet murdered. Jultar can take many things from me; my honor, my title as chosen of Xelatauth, my axe, and my inheritance, but I still draw breath. To live as a king with my loyal kobold slave, or move out and expand was the choice, though it seems exciting so far.

I eagerly await the day of my death, and hope to face ten men at least in a glorious, hopeless battle. Selvetarm be with me, and may spiders devour the damned. Should I live the next seven days, I will see a festival of unrivaled beauty given to you, my lord.

Uktar 13, 1374

Each day this place called Sanctuary feels more like Traensyr; and I adore it. I look over my shoulder constantly for assassins, much like the daughters of Jultar did. I am ambushed regularly, and am kept on the very brink of death at any given moment. The people of this place hate me, and this hate will spill blood in Selvetarm's name. I love every moment of it.