Lost Journal
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A figure walks through the rain there thoughts elsewhere, a small leather bound tome slips from there pouch as if pushed by an invisible hand. When you first find it a single entire is on it pages a poem but as time goes on more writing appears, poems thoughts and musings as if someone is still writing in it.
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Well now, that was a whirlwind, first I was getting married, then I am not. Shae is such are a fast-moving creature, with sudden and sometimes confusing emotions that I have trouble at times following. Well at least she does not wish to find someone else, she wants to be with me regardless of weather we are married or not. What happens if the father of her children comes back? She wants to be with me but she still loves him only a fool could not see that? I should ask her maybe, but do I really want to know? Probably not sometimes even I find ignorance is bliss. Regardless it best we do not get married I do not believe it holds the same significance as elven marriage as it happens so quickly. Finally, should I tell her my revelation a decade for me was a century in the world?
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Well, that was interesting. Did I need a rescue, maybe regardless it escalated quickly and now I am worried. Will they be so civil next time when the call on me or will it be more a case of grabbing me in the night? I hope despite the hostility of my lady love we can be civil about this. I have no interest in becoming or even working with the undead but it would seem my big mouth has gotten me in trouble again. I am something of an expert on the Drow, technically true as Urmelena taught me a great deal about the Drow and more to the point Eilistraee well we were together. Oddy, he seemed interested to run into a follower of the Dark Maiden, not sure why though. Well, I will play it safe and pick up some information but not delve too deep that just normally leads to trouble and I do not need anyone other than Shae biting me.
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So quick, like lightning running through a tree, and I am drawn to her like a Moth to flames for good or Ill. First a terrifying jaunt through the sewers, by the goddess I do hate undead. Then it was nice to slow it down, think a moment and talk with other elves as I do it so rarely. The topic was less than pleasant, but I who am I to argue with someone who wishes to rot their soul by holding their tears and sadness. Hiding your emotions is a greater weakness then allowing them to flow naturally. Finally, I need to say it. Lone wolf my lily-white arse, the lone wolf is not something to be emulated as they are the first to starve and die during bad winters. Regardless of the conversation, the rain washed off the stink of the sewers. Finally, I went on a noble quest to help a “Paladin of Sune” find a small hammer, in the market, and when that failed we took a pleasant stroll to the village of Norwick. I had an amusing time trying to convince her I was useless and a coward, she for some reason did not believe me.
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She is so sweet and even at times childlike, it is strange that someone can be so strong one moment and then so vulnerable next. Humans move so fast it is confusing to me. I can barely keep up with the whirlwind of emotions she has, and I love it. I feel alive for the first time in a decade, even now with what I learned I am excited to tell her but I need to make sure as I do not want to get her hopes up or mine for that matter. different writing more rushed I need to find her and share the good news, I am not sure what will come of it but we will see.
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She doesn't realize how cruel a jest that was, or how happy she made me for that one moment. I thought perhaps I would have a second chance but I was wrong as I find I often am. Perhaps she expected me to cry and carry on or react poorly, but the idea of new life holds only wonder for me. Oh well in passing it was a funny jest for someone who does not know me well and I have yet to open up to her so that is my fault. As Sara use to say "Why change the past, When you can own this day?" Perhaps it is time for me to tell her more about what I was.
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Well, it has been a bit since I could pick up the pen, and much has happened both good and bad most of it confusing. I died again in a grand battle with a terrible evil so there are worst ways to go. Each time I die I remember more of the afterlife, this time I clearly remember the others waiting with me to be judged, a sermon and fishing. I do not know why I remember more and more, perhaps it is that my true death is drawing nearer. I should talk to someone but I am not sure who, I do not want to worry those I call friends.
Two bodies as one,
entwined within the darkness,
What is the meaning.This human girl… woman, it is strange we are so different and yet I think she is interested and cares for me, I don’t for the life of me know why though. I am not sure some of the things she says and her actions muddy my understanding, I am not sure she is interested in me as anything more than a distraction. I know I am starting to care for her, against my better judgment. It is against all my better judgment as she is rigid in her views, guarded in her nature, harsh in her speech and has a propensity for violence. At the same time, it is the unguarded moments when she lets me see the women and not the warrior that draws me to her. A blush, an unguarded smile, honest laughter and sharing burdens, anything that makes her come alive.
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As I write this I am happy. The fish are biting, the sun is warm, the tea is perfect and the bear that lives in the cave and I seem to have come to an understanding where he takes half my fish and does not attempt to eat me anymore. It is perfect here. Though I will not stay, perfection and I have a poor relationship and I would hate to bring my destructive luck onto this rather pleasant bear. It has been so long since I let myself feel happy, hopeful even. I am still not sure what is happening, and my plans do not usually fail so badly but I am interested to see where this goes. I wonder do they understand what they have done? Do I? It was pleasant though. I should have stayed but I am not ready to deal with it yet, I guess I really am a coward. It was pleasant though.
The bear is asleep so I going to write a bit more since I now that have no one to talk to. He is a great listener even if he does not really have much to offer in the way of advice other than grunts and growls. have a steelhead trout roasting with garlic, a little wild thyme and some delicious looking truffles I found and some lemon juice. I am still annoyed the bear broke our agreement and ate 9 fish today leaving me only one. At least it explains why the little bugger is sleeping so soundly. Regardless, I will put the fish on a bed of wild greens I found I think this will be delicious. A small not terrible doodle of what might be a dire bear sleeping surrounded by fish skeletons Oh it ready back in a moment. The writing is less defined and more scrawly It was delightful though the truffles might have been a little off as they were slightly bitter, still with the lemon juice the bitterness actually worked in favor of the fish. I am feeling a little restless and I and I might go for a swim in a moment. Writing is more scrawly The bear has developed a pleasant purple glow and I notice the sunset has a lovely rainbow hue. I am enjoying the smell of the sunset as well, like peppermint and rosemary. The grass is so soft and warm, mmmmmmmm, like a kiss. I think I may have grabbed the wrong kind of truffles, though like that silver-green bird is saying I might as well enjoy it. I am going to roll in the grass and then take a nap.
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I needed to disappear for a bit, I will go fishing and I will think. I found a quiet pond while flying not too long ago and it is unlikely anything will disturb me. I had a soul scar rip open earlier today and then before coming to grips with the first another ruptured and then another. The first was a story I freely gave, I thought it had been so long that it would no longer burn at my soul. I was wrong, it would seem even with the passage of a century I am still haunted by the night they died. The next visions of the past transposed on reality, a woman on her knees covered in her blood and viscera, a clash between the current and the past. They did not die a silent scream on their blood-flecked lips, this time, but the scar is riven open spewing more sadness into the void beside what is left of my soul. Finally, a simple turn of phrase”Good children would often get kissed on the cheek”, one of my oldest scars burst like a rotten corpse.
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I have started finding scars interesting. Most of them are visible and weave a living tapestry of pain, victory, and learning upon the skin of their bearers. Other are hidden and engraved runes in the soul, deep dark rifts that hold our old traumas. Unlike the scars on our skins these hidden ones are not healed and often they burst open like a rancid boil showering us with those traumatic memories. Years, decades even centuries can pass between the inscribing of the scar and these episodes and the pain is rarely lessened with the passage of time. I have noticed adventures often carry more of these scars, lost loved ones, destroyed clans and broken dreams litter the past of these people. Is it because they are being tested by whatever cruel gods of fate that choose to make them heroes or is it that these events make them choose a path that often ends in a lonely death, forgotten and unburied.
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Written in a Traditional Wa poetic style
An old sensation,
What are we beginning here,
Oh by the goddess.
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Written quickly in a angry script.
It is funny how people act, towards what they do not understand or what scares them. “You all look the same, long ears, long hair, leather armour.” It is a ridiculous statement we all look different if you take a moment to actually look at us. I can not abide by ignorance, racist attitudes. “I hate you because of this”, “you are weak because of that”, damn them but it makes me angry and I have trouble keeping my words civil. I do not understand anyone who judges people before taking a moment to know them. I hope she changes because it is sad to see someone be so ignorant.
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Written in a flowing script:
She meet her lover in her dreams,
Whom with mortal eyes she never seen.
She falls into his warm embrace,
He catches her with inhuman grace.
She runs her hands though is hair,
A silken mess as soft as mountain air.
She is lost within his pale green eyes,
Two gleaming gems that will never die.
Her lips touch his and then she wakes,
A single tear runs down her face.
For a love she will never know,
Except in dreams that come and go.