Losing tracks - Journal of Taiven Crowe

[Vaesi]

*The page is stuffed into the front of a bound journal, wrinkled and dirt covered in contrast to the new journal which now held it.*

To walk ahead of others means to offer ones life.  That is what she told me, so long ago.  How could I miss its meaning with sight? 
It seems I have not done so well in truly learning myself as I thought.  Or else I am simply mad or the pawn to some mans sick
game.  Neither of these options leaves me able to sleep.

I must now record my memories in my own penmanship, so as to count the lost days that may come.  So I will simply begin with today,
I can not trust that anything before is real at this point.

It had started strangley enough with the mists moving from under my feet, fleeing my step it seemed even.  Perhaps I should have
considered that closer.  The land I find myself in is worse than any plain full with an orc army sweeping up to our walls.  Here the dogs
rule the night and vampires wait and watch.  Worse- those are the obvious dangers, the truly frighting ones are those dressed
as I am and standing beside me daily.  Of course not all of them are monsters, but how they turn on each other, and their hidden motivations.
Sometimes you can peek under their masks, and thats when I wish I had not learned how to See.

There are those that are different though, some suprisingly considering their nature.  I should record their names... their deeds.  Lest I
forget them to and cause more pain...

*The writing simply stopped there.*

[Vaesi]

Its been sometime and I've still not made sense of this.  Jackie recommends speaking to the Vistani Seer, and Nyver warns of it.  It is
where I should turn, but I wonder if I've the ability to understand what they'll have to tell me.  Winston seems to have some issues
himself but he even admits it could simply be from age.  I wonder if its not something else in his case entirly, but all I can do is
wonder he would never admit to else.  The one thing I can be sure of with that one, is to not go drinking with him unless he has a forest
of bushes nearby.

A brief days respite was given when the dwarves sought aid in repaying ill favor to the ogres, I'm not sure if they'll ask again though after
how the journey ended.  I wonder if I'd rather have a blood curse like these half-vistani or the choice I have right now.
It was enjoyable for me at any rate, letting others deal with their issues and simply enjoying time among dwarves.  They've a very clear
point of view and way of cutting through so much with ease it makes me envious.  Though the image of the guards of the dwarven mountain
sipping their ale from sippy cups will forever make me laugh when I enter there... I suppose if I can remmeber this day at least.

I find myself writing all of this, telling myself I need to put it down, but when I read back its clear this will never truly give me
history of what transpired.  It is hollow, these words do not fill with the emotion that I feel when someone makes me laugh or how another
touched me with generous gift like the rapier.  More still, the shock and suprise when a stranger passing by could so keenly express
exactly what it was I was doing without more than a passing glance... perhaps I am seeking a new perspective. 

Sorin will not speak to me it seems, his words are casual and polite.  Not rebuffing me but he's curt and I can tell he's written our
friendship off.  I can not etch into this book how that causes me to ache inside.

[Vaesi]

Keeping journal, how like a leash it feels almost.  A leash on my own past and a necessary one.  Sorin and I spent time speaking and I
feel a great weight lifted from me for this.  Having him to speak with helps my mind to rest easier and I find solace in his company.
Odd since that solace was while we were all locked within temple from great white wolf that seemed intent on tearing us limb from limb.  This
land is taking its toll, though I find distraction in speaking to those I call friend. 

Nyver may be a bit unnerved at my insight time to time, perhaps I should not reveal so much around him it would be terribly dull without
his company to tease.  Though I think he's catching on to my amusement and hiding his shocked reactions more... I need to speak to Winston
clearly, between the two of us I'm sure we can make poor Nyver stumble and laugh a bit more.  He needs the lighter moods with all the weight
he carries of others, or perhaps I just tell myself that so that I do not feel bad tormenting him.

Another who let me speak finally was the dark and silent one they often hunt with.  As I thought he is rather ridgid and disciplined, but
suprised me with willingness to play the reeds.  I should know by now not to judge others without giving them a chance to be known first...
I had nearly written this man off as no one to learn from, I am glad he may prove otherwise.

As if to remind me that one can not spend their time merely learning of others and talking- the very forest came alive and tried to kill Natham
and I.  Vines that trangled and mushrooms that coated me in burning goo.  Really.  Is there nothing but strange and deadly creatures here?
Surely the locals can't have lived without some moments of peace and joy... they'd all be stark raving m- *The notes falter there, unfinished.*

Hrm, sometime has passed and I will not continue down where my mind was wandering in last thoughts.  I turn now to Natham, the mystery
and jarring presence that makes me question everything.  Even Lunzia does not seem to feel he is dangerous, and he understands people
almost as well as I may.  Natham, past present or future... I fall asleep remembering scent tonight. 

[Vaesi]

It has been weeks yet again since I opened these pages, something in me rebels at having to write my life down in order to simply remember it.  But I've dutifully looked over it now and then and so far I've not forgotten a day- though there are moments between them that are difficult to clearly recall.  I've avoided using the Sight from my own fears.  Until yesterday, normally its unwise to speak to another so full of self doubt, but I could not refuse.  I believe its given them some reassurance in the least.

One joy I have found is that many here seem to enjoy gambling!  In fact a new bar, that is such a generous term for the place, opened and reminds me so much of home near the docks.  Dicing is a common occurance there and if I had more coin I think I'd already be living at its door stop. 

*What follows is pages and pages of nothing, and then one with writing that begins halfway down the page in ragged script.*

Useless, jotting down silly moments and memories that have no weight to them.  I need to write of things that matter, of importance to me... but I find I do not trust myself to commit such emotions to ink.