Journal of High Initiate Jarrus
It always felt vainglorious, to think my deeds worthy of a personal journal. But as I watch the drow mass outside our gate, I realise my arrogance is already of a far costlier sort. I see no harm in tipping the scales a little further. Not for me, but for those who followed me down into the dark. They deserve to be remembered. - Initiate Norn Remys, lost in the deep tunnels as we fell back from the drow. - Initiate Thulk of the Northern Wastes, grazed by an arrow and succumbed to poison. - Initiate Bree Brekka, who stood against a drider with only her mason's hammer. And Initiates they are, the entire company - for they have seen and suffered too much to be called novices. ———— We've collapsed the tunnel behind, and have made ready to open the gate. Perhaps we can carve a path through. And if not, I enclose a list of names - let the annals show that whatever their end, the cause was the same: one High Initiate Jarrus wished to stamp his name in the history of his Church. He sought to forge a path through the darkness, not realising there are some places the light was never meant to touch. He was a fool.