# Izz'rm's Journal



## sithramir (Jul 1, 2003)

_Today marks the third year anniversary of my first real visit to the surface world. While I had pillaged many cities during surface raids over the last 50 years before, the blinding brightness I viewed that day marked not only my first day truly on my own, but also the beginning of a new life. A new start! Even if the cost was my own “death”, at least in the eyes of the matron mothers, I still feel the rewards justified the means.  
     I doubt my brother feels the same, but then again, the dead tend not to feel that much at all. I’m sorry brother, but I will feel no regret towards my actions. Take heart that at least now you are free, if the demon web hell you probably have found yourself in, can be thought of in that regards. 

       But I digress. 

       Today, for the first time in my life I mourn. I’d always assumed it was an emotion left only to the weaker races, but today I learn there’s not always an answer for every question I proffer. Berendorf Stonefist lays dead, and with him, my only connection to this small dwarven society. Why? A simple question. Yet I feel deep in my heart that there is no real answer. As a creature of the underdark, I am not fool enough to not realize that thousands die every day, many with a much more horrible fate than that of Dorf. But to die in your sleep, is such a craven like way to go! Perhaps Dorf’s strange sense of “honor” has somehow rubbed off on me, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what’s the cause! No poison, no blood, no spell lingerings and to top it off there seems to be no way to raise or resurrect the corpse. It’s as if the soul has left and refused to return! Perhaps if it was a singly isolated incident, I could leave it be, but this has been the third in 3 days! With Dorf’s death, that marks the third and final master forger in the region and with it the end of the pact Dorf had made with his clan to keep me safe. 

         The dwarves, they do not trust me. I know this and accept it, yet I find myself pondering where it is I should go. Is this my chance to begin my exploration of this strange and foreign land? Perhaps, but first I find I owe a debt that still needs to be paid. Dorf had a brother who lived in a small town called Ravencrest. And while a simple teleport or sending could quickly inform him of the tragedy, I find that I owe his brother the respect of informing him personally of what has transpired. Perhaps the month long journey will allow me to collect my thoughts and find some answers. Perhaps they lay in wait to ambush me in Ravencrest. Perhaps, I am just a silly dark elf with nowhere to go and too many questions. _

_The ramblings of a hopeless drow_ 
Izz’rm Tsarran formerly of House Tsarran, Fifth House of Maerimydra


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## sithramir (Jul 1, 2003)

_       Horse selling? A good business that. Never mind the fact that I can never visit those villages again. A risky business, but I had never realized how expensive travel truly can be. A few hundred gold added to my belt pouch surely fixed that dilemma. Whoever created that mount spell was probably a very rich man. 

          I am on the outskirts of Ravencrest and must make my journal entry short. A cleric of one of the pitiful gods worshipped by these surface dwellers has just rode past my summoned cottage followed by a Minotaur with claws dripping with acid. Quite a strange occurrence. I wonder what such a beast is doing so far from the underdark and how he came to acquire such interesting weapons. 

          Hmm. A detect good proves that the cleric definitely worships a god of good. Is the Minotaur a pet? Me thinks this cleric is in for quite a surprise if he doesn’t watch himself. _ 
  										Izz’rm


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