The journal is written in a sharp, flowing style that only a wizard or elf could write

Sanctuary. I have arrived. I am alive. All this way and I just want to end it though. No more suffering.

[new entry date, the next day]

The town is quite alive. It is puzzling that these people actually want to continue living in the deserted ruins of some ancient gnome city?? The place truly is a city and I'd wager if the town moved as one--with the focus of a dwarf's battleaxe; they could get out of this dark hell they call the Underdark. Or not. I don't know. I don't even know why I'm thinking about it.

[new entry date, several days later]

I hate them. Hate them! The way they look at me like I'm a piece of trash! Some things never change. It's all because of the elves I'm down here and of course all because of the elves I can't leave. The stylus seems to have rested here for some period of time as there is a blotch of ink after the last sentence]

Many things have passed since the last time I pressed ink to papyrus. I have become more than I was; yet still lacking. Eternal darkness still pervades; yet the bringers of Light offer hope.

I have had the opportunity to meet many fine people.

I took the opportunity to inquire about the Spellguard recently. It's the closest thing to a mages guild we have here in my new home, hell.

Agent Strife is an odd, uptight wizard. He presents himself as a man lost in the Law. He can't seem to understand my position on doing what's right when the Law fails. I mean the Law can't handle every situation. Logic tells me that judgement is the best guide. Perhaps he is lazy or zealous--or perhaps one bred the other.