A small leatherbound book stuffed in the smallest of Doja's many pouches. The first thirty or so pages have been carefully torn out. On the first untampered page, written in small block letters of cobalt blue ink:

I begin again. The sounds have returned, a dull shudder knocking at my sleep. Not in the head as before, but lower, like ears on the floor of my belly. And now something of that heat catches me unawares on street corners, in the muck of sewers, or whilst trudging the stairs deeper.

I'd followed them here many days past and they had quieted in return, a gesture of thanks, eh? Thought this place was indeed the echo chamber for it all. I'd thought old grandfather spoke through miles of rock to call me down to the city they call Dunwarren to seek that whisper of a bloodline that winnowed its way down to me. And the sounds had grown the while, the countless days in tunnels I followed it, running and stumbling, until they stopped suddenly at the sight of the city walls. Silence.

Others here were freed from slavery of a different kind. And I walked my first days in a kind of blissful release, in spite the odd thought that they were all gone, my deep kin, then. I waited, thinking perhaps this was enough or that it would tell me more in time.

It started in ticks and whirs at first, like the city's old machinery at the walls.

The real rush came the other night. Had thought the group that calls itself the Spellguard had the proverbial ear to the ground, that I would seek their company for more answers to the city and its deeper quarters. Some hesitation speaking with them (Cor's the one to trust), but welcoming enough, I joined them in an attempt to quell some undead in the city's lower streets. All well and good, but that night in the Rock Bottom, sleeping and the sounds tore at my insides like some vast cavern opened up. What seemed a dream. I was out on the streets, running, invisible to all eyes. Up the stairs and through the city gates, in the underdark alone, traveling through progressively smaller tunnels and narrows until the stone walls closed in around me, like some organ swallowing me up. And at its end, there, a small black wyrmling, exactly my size. It saw me, looked me directly in the eye where others had passed over my frame. I froze. And, it, drawing close, whispered something in my ear. Its tongue nearly inside my ear. I cannot repeat it, but sense it made, as if translating for me.

When I awoke, a cold sweat, the clamour gone and with it all my belongings save the clothes on my back, my cap still resting atop my eyes. Left a note for Cor at the Spellguard tower, stating I thought it best not to petition to join their ranks. I must trust these visions mean something, tell me something. Must find another way to look into the city's secrets.

Have started drinking again--Not a word of reproach--It dulls the din and spreads the heat across all my limbs. My powers have grown exponentially since arriving here, so I can only suppose that I am indeed following the correct path...

At the bottom of the page, in somewhat larger lettering.

A note to self: Must find this Dreagle fellow. He's posted word of a dream society and might know more.

Several more pages are torn out. Then, hastily scrawled in somewhat messier block lettering. Inkblots scatter the page.

Forgive the state of my hand for the light here is low, a strange hue, and I cannot find an even surface on which to run my nib.

A series of foul events too patchy for my head to gather up, though I will do my best to stitch the story up into something more manageable, more orderly. Something I can keep down on this empty stomach.

First, the sounds had steadied somewhat, like a background breeze through trees. I made a critical mistake: tired of a several days without a change or sign, I forced the issue and am now paying for it. Followed the ones that call themselves the Chosen, thinking that their Appetite might be what calls from the hollows of my body. Besides there was the business of the mask (that's another story--let it be). As the words unfolded from their high priest's foul lips, it sounded so close to mine own case, so I bit, as it were. But then, standing over that vast nothingness before which they bow and lisp their endless prayers, expecting the sudden relief in giving in to its call, the cruelest and most untimely joke of all. The sounds plowed on unchecked, my head still spinning as if to say 'this Appetite, this god of theirs is not your own'. The sounds were unfazed.

A flick of my wrist and the wand had me invisible, running for the door and a flock of the beasts at my tail. I cornered the one who knew my name alone and almost took its life, but my spells faltered before its greater enchantments. Running, then, a coward, I knew I had signed the contract for my life.

And so it comes to pass. A useful meeting with your man Dreagle and much explained, but not enough. Confirmed my fears that they would come for me now, the Chosen, and that I had more to fear than the hided ones ripe with stench. No, there are others in a more cunning guise and the price on my head would bring the city's assassins down on me for sure.

I wore my silly mask, afraid to leave the city proper, but quickly grew complacent, strolled about unmasked and in full light. Besides, everywhere I walked, some acquantance would call out my name in force, a beacon to any and all that would seek me. Foolish gnome.

And then it came, today. A feeling I was being followed and then, after an unfortunate venture for the Watch, feeling too tired and broken to care, I stumbled into a room at the Rock Bottom and was just laying down my packs (thinned considerably, but another story--keep to the one and make sense there first!), when a sudden sharp pain in my back brought me to my knees. There, at the other end of a cruel blade stood a slight woman, silhouetted against the door frame, another blade raised to strike again.

It was as if the sound took over in a massive rush and I suddenly found myself invisible running down the stairs with all the strength I could muster, calling for help. Useless Watch and useless mage-folk in the inn sat dumbfounded as I nearly bled my life away, the assassin long gone before they even rose to their feet.

Better friends came along and the elf Potter tended to my wounds before agreeing to accompany me out the city gates. I knew it was time to leave, that I had been foolish with this reluctance. I also knew the bitch assassin could follow me or wait to strike the final blow in some dark tunnel or other. But worth the risk...she would not let me walk having seen her form in full light. And so I prepared my final incantations and left out through the city's main gate, a Sanctuary no more.

Again, the sound seems to guide my feet in a direct line, without forethought apart from the next step, and panting through the thinnest of tunnels I found myself on the edge of that vast, vast canyon. Hearing a creature coming, my invisibility wavering, I ducked back into that darkened opening and down below to find myself here, in better light and warmth. A force far stronger and stranger than any I've encountered hums in these walls and, yet, I sit here, strangely calm. I follow the sound only now.

Peaceful this. Legs heavy and eyes and could almost sleep a thousand years now. I will probably need to move on soon. Soon. Soon.

Considered ripping this lot out as well, but something holds me back. Besides...Who will ever read you now?

On top of a fresh page.

Silence. That or an ocean of sounds in tune. Little difference in this heady bliss. Send Vem out for one last word, shut the gate and cut off all ties, no echo back. Not this while.

We go down. Down. Down. Years disappear, skin and me.

And they talked of gods...