Fifteen Years, Seven Months, Nine Weeks and One Day Since the Sky Fell

One Day Since the Leaving

I've been able to find a few bits of wood that were easily worked into, well, walls of sorts. My tools are limited out here, but I've made a bit of a shack out of them and some old threadbare cloth I have from ages ago. The small stool I took with me is now a table, my bedroll is next to it, while my instruments lean up against the "table" when I don't need them. I've a dish and my glass, and a pot to cook things in - I've made a small fire pit outside with some stones circling it.

Perhaps once I know the area a bit better I'll move deeper into the woods, maybe up to the waterfall this horrid tome one of the nomads gave me speaks about. Mostly I am searching for the entrance to Neriak, as from what I could gather from Tarack's stories is somewhere within these woods.

I...want to see the places he talked about...ghosts and memories are going to be the only thing I'll know of him now...and perhaps always; but the primal essences of these woods are getting to me, making me restless already.

Compared to what I've found of the woods, this little island is tame. There are many large and feral animals that wander along side twisted treants, though they are not the real danger here - scattered throughout the woods are scores of undead fighters, and to the North of here is an entire walkway full of them. The nomads tell me that there is a castle within these woods, filled with ghosts and protected by grotesque zombies...I am in no hurry to find such a place, though it appears they are...

Perhaps it is wiser to stay on this isle...

...I'd rather be home, but even that is gone now.