[a small book of quality parchment, covered with leather and with flowing celtic patterns tooled into the front cover. The symbol of a Broken Arrow over a tear drop is scratched onto the leather. It is kept in Elwing's pack]

[the entries are made in a flowing elvish script, unreadable to those that cannot read the language]

Entry 1:

Uktar 13, 1374

I thought my journey near it's end, yet I find at the last moment that it has just begun.

The loss of Nimrell and Lucien still pains me. I know they came willingly, even eagerly, but now they hunt with our Lord in Arvandor. They have found peace, at least. I only hope I find some measure of peace, of acceptance too, though what I have discovered makes me think that my peace will only come when I join Shevarash for the eternal hunt.

This settlement is called Sanctuary. How ironic. A "Sanctuary" leagues below the surface, surrounded by foes on all sides. And drow. They delude themselves.

I have been here barely a day and have witnessed such nonsense. Complacency, laziness and acceptance of a situation that is not fixed! There are ways out of this place, I am evidence of that. Perhaps I can show them when my task is done and if I live to see that day. My Lord will decide that for me.

Entry 2:

Uktar 13, 1374

Drow! Here, in the settlement! The dwarf told me of this, but I did not believe him. Foolish of me, yes. I will not make such a careless mistake again. What is this place, that they will let these creatures walk the streets and inns openly?

I would have cut his tongue out of his smiling face. I wanted to, gods I wanted to. Yet the halfling and the ogre protected him. [the page has several tears here, like something was pressed into the parchment with force] My enemies walk the streets and are confident. They will receive the Black Archer's judgement.

Entry 3:

[a series of short note points on a fresh page]

Uktar 14, 1374

- No sign of my enemies this day. Hiding their stench in the sewers likely. Investigate.

- Corrupted brothers. Fatalistic and lost. Contact more if possible.

- Sentinels. Allies? Find out.

Entry 4:

Uktar 15, 1374

One of my tormenters has fallen. The satisfaction I feel could only be greater if it had been my blade, no, my hands doing the deed. There is at least one more to finish yet, so I cannot grow complacent.

I am hungry though. Pie sounds nice.

Entry 5:

[a tear stained sheet is held between the pages here]

Lost Love

Eyes so bright, laughter like a bell Of crystal shining, fallen tears well, Though unshed, never falling to earth While memories of forgotten mirth Haunt me in my reverie.

Gone forever in moments of dark sorrow My loves and family will see no morrow, Taken by dark ones, blood on blades, All that was left of my beloved shades that Haunt me in my reverie.

An oath sworn in blood of those lost To avenge the deaths, no matter the cost to the one that embraces the Hunter dark, Lost love, frozen heart, eyes so bright Haunt me in my reverie.

What drove me to write this, after so long?