Nicely presented sangennaro!
Tell me, if you would, how's Urvad? Your prologue seems to hint that he's been a bit of trouble. Also, how's little tyke Kells?
Anyway.
~ Hundreds of years later ~
A single adventurer wanders the depths of a place once called Ardesonol. A book has been found with a tattered cover. Several pages are missing. Many more appear to have been submerged in water. It is believed this is what remains of the second log of Urvad Magichalls. Taking the book, some legendary artifacts, and some nice gems, he fled from the sounds he heard coming from below. The adventurer made his way home with his new gear, only to be ambushed by kobolds. They attack and managed to steal his backpack. He chased them back to their camp and killed them, but not without significant injury to himself. The worst was an arrow to his lung.
The adventurer did not dare remove the arrow, lest he suffocate on his own blood. He reclaimed his backpack, and took the kobold's valuables as spoil. At last, the tired dwarf, with his bloodsoaked clothes and pack, arrived back at the ancient Mountainhomes. Here he retired, collapsing on the door to the Mountainhome. Carried inside by his folk, he was brought to the hospital. After extensive treatment and some exceedingly quality surgery, the dwarf began to recover. He requested the book be brought to him and a fresh one besides.
Over the next few days the dwarf worked on preserving what he could recover of the tale of the second year. It seemed that things were tense on the young second year. The adventurer drew courage from the tale of the legendary Shadow Hammer, and made note that this seemed to be the first ever mention of the ancient hero. He worked for hours on in, diluting pain with stout labour, albeit not the dwarf's usual kind.
Alas for that dwarf! The wound's suture was not so good as the surgery. Within a few days the dwarf was flush with fever and the wound seeping ooze. As the days went on, he began to refuse food and drink, becoming singularly obsessed with his work. He became quite irritable, prone to throwing the bucket back at those who so kindly offered it. His writing grew more and more illegible and unintelligible as the illness took him.
This dwarf, taken of a fell mood, wrote on. When the doctor tried to remove the book in hopes the patient would rest, the dwarf struck him down. He got up for the first time in weeks, fell to the floor, dropping the book onto the floor. Using the doctor's own knife, he skinned him, the blood seeping into the pages. He rebound the book in dwarf-skin and copied down the last two pages, written in a mix of ink and blood. At last, his life's work "The Second Journal of Urvad Magichalls" was complete. Then he died on the ground from the infection.
This tome was stored in the library of the mountainhalls, puzzled over by historians. By and large they were more concerned with the history of the book itself, rather than the history it told. After all, what had caused the dwarf to become so enamored with so standard a story? Was it the raids from the Necromancer's tower? It must have been this, because why else would a Dwarf be struck with such a mood?
The result, however, was this: Historians of the Mountainhomes sent out warrior and archaeologist to find all of the journals of Urvad Magichalls. The first already lie in the library of the Mountainhomes, having been dutifully sent back to the Queen to let her know all was well. Along with a very eloquent letter, which was perserved with it. The librarians and archaeologists searched for the remaining journals. The finding of those, while not as dramatic as the infamous Second Journal, was itself recorded in the Tales of Ardesonol, along with the tales of many of the Overseers of the place. These are all stories for another time.
~An excerpt from "Concerning the Second Journal of Ardesonol", with near identical text to the page in the later "Tales of Ardesonol" concerning the same.~
"The book is quite elegant, if horrendous. Noone knew that Dodok was such a skilled Craftsdwarf. Many attest that he was possessed by some sort of deity, others that he had always been so but never had the inspiration to make anything of it. If one forgets that the book is bound in dwarf-skin... it is really quite beautiful. Engraved into the thick hide taken from the late Sakzul are several dwarves fighting valiantly against the undead horde. There are also strange symbols and in the center of the front, what appears to be Urvad Magichalls cowering behind the Shadow Hammer, whose name and legend has been refreshed by this book. The writing is gripping, growing ever more fanatic as Dodok's mind left him. Many parts are boring and dry, telling only of day to day events, but horribly lacunose. It is unclear how much was recovered of the journals, but the tale of the fight against the undead has since inspired new songs. Dodok's recounting itself is rather level considering the furor with which he wrote it..."
And so on and so forth, analyzing the writing, going into further detail on the craftsdwarfship. Even taking stabs at dwarven psychoanalysis of Dodok, including several mentions that Dodok ought to have been given alcohol rather than water. However, the author admits if that had happened, the tome would probably not exist in the form it does.
~
(And when I write the journals, I'll post those. Hopefully I shall have them done by today. At least, the Second Journal. I obviously can't complete the Third until Sangennaro's turn ends. )
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