A Necromancer's Journal

Dear Journal,

It is Steelday of Blossoming in the year 3734. I am attempting something never before done... never before done by someone like myself at the very least. I wish to maintain a chronicle of events as I fear that the dark energies that I surround myself with are taking their toll not only on my intellect, but my shadowed soul as well.

The details of my past continue to elude me like the fading fingers of fog on the breeze at daybreak. I continue to scour tome after tome in hopes of finding the smallest clue to reveal the link to my dark origins. Alas, to no avail. It is whispered in the darkest recesses of Freeport that Sage Nevarius Orvalis or Arcanist Sonius may hold the keys to unlocking this mystery, but to date, the only thing I could discern from the inane ramblings of Orvalis is the tragic history of the Teir'Dal. Tragic indeed, good riddance I say! I have fared no better with Sonius' prattling. Bah, they know nothing of further value and serve as no more than a reminder of the futility of Freeport! Perhaps the answers lie elsewhere so away I go.

The Commonlands... the words stick in my throat as though the very arid climate had lodged them there. What a desolate place seemingly teeming with the putrescence of various tribes of orcs. There are no answers there. Venturing further, I have acquired some companions. The lizard, Szadiss, and the dark elf, Ischade, have allied themselves with me. Common goals make strange bedfellows indeed. If someone a year ago were to tell me that I would be fighting beside a Ratonga eater and the filth of Freeport, I would've called them mad. Mad I say! Still, they have proven themselves worthy allies even though there are moments I catch the lizard eyeing me as a tasty morsel. There is also something oddly familiar about the dark elf. If only I could put my finger on it.