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Mauril’s Journal, Entry 1

   Posted by: Mauril   in Campaign Logs, Fantasy, RPG

I’ve started this journal for the very likely event that something goes horribly wrong. I’ve discovered something that I shouldn’t have. Before I catalog that, however, I should probably tell you, reader, who I am. I am currently known as Mauril Everleaf, scribe of Mishya. I moved to Firforge nearly ten years ago and have considered it my home since my youth.

I arrived in Firforge and found refuge in the temple of Mishya. It reminded me of my mother, or rather, what I had been told of my mother. They accepted me with open arms and, while I never trained as a cleric, I was ordained as a priest. I began work as a scribe and enjoyed very much rifling through the old tomes that filled the back shelves of the temple. There was much to be read and much to be learned and even more to be organized.

While indexing the chaos that the clerics had let their library become (and they call themselves Mishyans) I found a text that should not have been there. A text that should not have been anywhere, let alone a temple in this small Barlozian city. This book, whose name I will not pen here, contained things immortal. I have read this book and am not sure if it was the wisest of my choices. I then began to understand the universe and understand it differently than I had ever before. It was not long before its very fabric had been laid bare to me. I began to be able to recreate the gifts that Mishya granted her clerics, but without the need of her aid. I do not yet understand precisely how I am capable of this, but I hope to one day understand.

This new talent of mine did not go unnoticed by Irvan Ulmgrin, the head priest of the temple. He discovered my new abilities as well and did not take as much of a liking to them as I have. He branded me a Dark Mishyan, a seeker and dispenser of forbidden knowledge, and forced me to flee Firforge.

I traveled for weeks until weather halted my egress at this small inn at a little stopover known as Fort Rodez in the Tantathian March. The weather is absolutely dreadful, the worst I have seen in my very good memory. I am snowed in with several other travelers: a half-elven warrior and his ranger companion, a flen wizardess, another who fancied himself a bard (though he told no tales), a pair of rogues (a human and a half-elf), a soft-spoken chosen priest of Mishya and a rather rough cleric of Akarai. They have all introduced themselves, as have the barkeeper and the three barmaids.  We will all weather the blizzard here tonight.  I hope the weather breaks soon so that I may continue my flight.

I will continue to update this journal with my progress, or regress. I still have not decided if my abilities are to be a blessing or a curse.


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This entry was posted on Sunday, October 11th, 2009 at 12:22 am and is filed under Campaign Logs, Fantasy, RPG. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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