Tattered Journal

The camp seems deserted. Black ash stains the ground, covering it like a thick snow. Tents and wagons lay scorched, their goods made off with. Inside one of tents, one which surprisingly was still standing, was a book. Reading the cover, it says...
"Property of Louis N. Clark"
Inside reads...
'Day Seven'
'For the past few days worry has burdened me. It was never my intention for us to be here for so long a period of time. Alas, circumstances dictated we stay an extra night before finally setting out through the pass to the Hinterlands. We were forced to set our camp far from the locals, something tells me they weren't too hapyy about us being here. One of their leaders warned us of the possibility of Trolls, yet we haven't seen an animal let alone a Troll since our arrival into these lands. Despite the lack of any real threat, I feel as if I am a prisoner already. As I look up to the surrounding trees looming over our heads, I cant't help but feel trapped. Little sunlight escapes through those imposing branches and leaves. We're left in darkness before the sun even sets over the mountains.'
'I can' t say I'll be longing for this place after we've gone. Perhaps when we do leave I will feel better.'
~ Daniel A.
Category:Mossflower