A Lone Journey - Entry One

[Gnomeh 470]

 

[!] A young elven boy, no more than twenty years of age, is heard telling his stories within the taverns of Aevos, sometimes looking defeated, sometimes looking hopeful.

Journal Entry One

The wind screams like a banshee, tearing at my cloak and whipping my hair across my face. I shiver, not just from the biting cold, but from the chilling emptiness that gnaws at my mind. I don't remember who I am, where I come from, or how I ended up here, in this desolate wasteland.

 

The trees here are skeletal, their branches twisted and gnarled like the claws of some monstrous beast. The ground is a vast, white expanse, broken only by the occasional rocky outcrop. It's a stark contrast to the world I vaguely remember, a world filled with vibrant colors and warm sunlight.

 

I've been wandering for days, driven by an instinct to survive. I've eaten nothing but berries and snow, and my stomach growls constantly. The cold has seeped into my bones, a constant ache that reminds me of my vulnerability. I'm so tired, but I can't stop. I have to keep moving, find somewhere safe.

 

Then, I saw it. A glimmer of light in the distance. It grew larger as I approached, revealing a city, nestled against the base of a snow-capped mountain. I stumbled into the city, my legs heavy with exhaustion.

 

The city, Cerulia, is a marvel of ice and stone. The buildings are tall and imposing, their walls adorned with intricate carvings of frost and ice. The streets are bustling with people, their faces obscured by thick furs and hoods.

 

I collapsed at the gate, my body wracked with coughs. A gruff voice startled me. "Hey, you alright?"

I looked up into the face of a tall, broad-shouldered man. He wore a heavy coat of furs, his face weathered and lined. He had a kind, but stern expression. "I... I don't know," I croaked, my voice hoarse. "I can't remember."

 

He helped me to my feet, his touch gentle. "You're in Cerulia now. You're safe. Come on, let's get you to the clinic."

 

He led me to the city's clinic. He tended to my wounds and fed me a hearty stew which he seemed to procure from a cloud of azure blue smoke. He told me his name was Mika.

 

Mika said he'd help me find my way home, but I can't remember if I even have one. I've forgotten my parents, my home and my name.. He said he'd help me remember, and that gives me a sliver of hope. For now, I'm just grateful to be safe.

 

. . .

 

I hope I can remember who I am.

3rd of the deep cold, SA 210

 

"Life is not about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself."

 

OOC:

Spoiler

I'm not good at writing very enchanting stories however I wanted to start a Forum journal for my new character.