Entry 1 of Nuriel’s Journal:
Praise Bahamut! It all started with so much promise.
I felt the breeze in my hair, the wind in my face, the feeling of floating on air. It lasted for at least two precious seconds, and I savored them, being my first full two seconds of life. An eternity! Then suddenly, it was as if I had hit a wall of mud, which of course was appropriate, since I had fallen into a pile of mud. I’ve noticed lots of metaphors that work this way.
No longer was wind in my face and hair. No, instead it was a highly moistened mass of dirt (by which combination of liquids I do not know, and would prefer not to surmise). I was suddenly enveloped in a suffocatingly heavy dredge that coated my face, hair, and (I later found) had worked its way into every single link of my chainmail. My tabard was stained brown and yellow.
Wet, cold, and in more than a small amount of pain, I found myself next to another sort, much shorter than myself, covered in this same muck. I immediately assumed that he, too, had just landed. Apparently his fall was not as tall as mine, as he was basically unhurt except for a splitting headache. He offered me a healing potion, called “breakfast"—-a somewhat bitter but not entirely unenjoyable liquid that is probably derived from some kind of fermented wheat. What luck! I thought. I had landed next to a healer! I later discovered that this dwarf, named Cordivae, was not in fact a healer, and as a matter of course was wont to enjoy “breakfast” throughout most of his waking hours. Still, I can never forget his initial kindness to my travails, and by Bahamut’s scales, forever shall he be an ally. In some way, I can understand his disdain of taller folk. It’s surely not his fault that his ancestors stunted their own growth by spending so much time underground.
Another person I met today was named Kep. If Cordivae could have a keeper, it is this Halfling. He always seems to make sure that Cordivae punches the right person, or at the very least, passes out at the least used table. Kep checked on me periodically while I was cleaning the mud out of my armor. Kep strikes me as the type who knows more than he says, or at least, says more than he thinks. Clearly, a valuable ally. Another new meeting is Galanthal, an odd sort of nature worshiper who has spent most of his life in this place called Fallcrest. He seems to know everybody, and has an odd intuition about many folk whom I have not yet met. I don’t know his capabilities yet, but he does not strike me as dishonorable.
I also met a woman named Gloriawho acts as a paige to Douven Stahl. I think she is a student, or maybe some kind of intern, to Stahl’s school of study. She barely speaks to me, and I suspect that is because she had some kind of higher purpose in the span of her study. I should pay attention to this Eladrin in case she becomes important in the future.
Which brings me to Douven Stahl; now this is a man who knows how to talk. And at great length! Just before dinner, he began to explain why I was here. Actually, he explained why many of us were here…but more on that later, as I am running out of parchment. Tomorrow I shall purchase more and continue writing.