This is a charred masterwork journal. On the cover is a picture of fire and a dragon. It is decorated with spikes of carbon, dustings of ash, and a smell of brimestone.
---The great beast looked upon us from within its cage. With a fell breath, it blew flame, and all was engulfed.
Freed, the mightly dragon rampaged. Flames spread without control.
We thought we could cage the beast. We were wrong.
The main road, built in our haste from wood, and turned into tinder by the unrelenting sun caught flame. It acted like a wick, and the fire continued to grow.
We decided to elect our king as the mayor as the previous one melted into a puddle of dwarf.
We fled the surface, least we join him.
The flames swept Breadbowl clean. No one was spared from the inferno who was caught in its wake.
Great works, dwarfs, all were consumed.
The heat of the flame spread upwards.
A few brave caught in the hell stubbled upon the dragon herself.
The elfs, protected by the trade depot watched as everything turned to ash around them.
Breadbowl is being consumed alive ...
The forges ignite ...
The king is surrounded but alive.
The fire wicks into a wall burned towards the edge
In its heat, the trees themselves burst into flame.
Reduced to ash, the trees collaspe in on themselves.
---
The journal continues in a different hand ...The fires rage out of Breadbowl. Wind is blowing them south. We've begun to survey the damage.
A timely rain extinished the last few embers.
From fire, there comes new life. New birth. The phoenix itself dies in fire, and rises in fire, and so will Breadbowl. We will bury our dead, and clear our rot, and rebuild.
For there is still life here ...