Journal of Girru Dro'Sakhar

[GrayMouser]

I have been carrying these pages with me for some time now, and truth be told, they are quite tattered and torn, so I thought I should store them in a more permanent place, lest I meet my demise and they fall with me. Perhaps if my brethren follow my path, they will be better able to locate me this way. It is a risk, as there are those who would like to see me spitted over an open flame, but it is a risk I must take.

Girru Dro'Sakhar
Monk 4 Rogue 1

[GrayMouser]

Journal entry One, 11 September 2009:
This will serve as the first entry to my new journal, the original volume lost to the sea. I am Girru Dro'Sakhar, recently displaced Monk. I am fairly new to this realm, having arrived (somewhat by accident) mere days ago, and doing what I can to survive. My ship was beset by a foul wyrm at sea, so it seems I am, for the moment, stranded in a small island town. I have heard the name "Eberron" uttered here and there, so I must assume that is where I am. Just yesterday, the Mayor of the island town implored me to look for his lost daughter, and I am taking a break from that errand to pen this missive and wait for some injuries to heal. Having lost my belongings to the sea, I fear the effectiveness of my efforts will be minimal, but I must try. I have tried purchasing supplies with the meager funds I have accumulated in a few days adventuring, but prices seem quite high for one of my limited wealth, due in part, most likely, to the same wyrm that beached my vessel and stranded me here. I will pen more if I survive the coming days. For now, I must continue the search for the missing girl.

[GrayMouser]

Journal entry 14 September 2009
The search for the missing girl went well, and she is reunited with her father. However, I suffered grievous wounds and have spent much time searching out a healer. Found a merchant who was willing to take all my coin for a few healing potions, so hopefully I will survive the next encounter. Wounds are healed nicely as of this writing, and I am aboard a ship heading to a sea-town the name of which escapes me. I have progressed a bit, but still feel like a pauper amongst nobles. The pious life of a monk is not meant for fame and fortune, and I seek neither, but it would also be nice to lay my hands on some gear (or coin) that would allow me to continue my quest without meeting an untimely demise. With that in mind, I have invested some time in learning the ways of the rogue, so I may open some of these locked rooms I've been finding. Perhaps salvation lies on the other side... Time will tell.

Girru Dro'Sakhar
Monk 2 Rogue 1

[GrayMouser]

Journal Entry 15 September 2009:
I've spent much of the day perusing vendors and keeping an eye on the local populace. For the most part, they seem honest enough, though I've spied a few pickpockets and thugs plying their trades amongst the bustle. It is not my place to judge, however, so I will not.

A messenger caught me by the sleeve this morn, as I strolled through the harbor district, and informed me I had mail. I was quite surprised, as my exit from the monastery was, by necessity, quite sudden and I had told none of my brothers my destination, but the messenger insisted the mail was, in fact, for me. Upon opening the letters (of which there were several), I was humbled to find welcome messages from a "Scrounge" and a "Mythe". Two very generous souls they must be, for as soon as I finished reading their missives, the messenger (who stood silently and patiently all the while) conferred upon me several weighty packages, laden with equipment and coins of the realm. I only wish I were able to thank these individuals personally, though finding them in the teeming throngs may well be nigh impossible. To that end, I will, at the very least, endeavor to help those I can, if only to pass the generosity along.

Oh! I almost forgot. As I came through the harbor the other night, I got the disturbing feeling I was being watched. It was just a tingling at the nape of my neck, but it was enough to send me into the shadows. Not knowing the layout of the city, I could ill afford to be the mark of some cutthroat, so I played it safe. Perhaps I was merely suffering from sensory overload at the time. Who rightly knows. I have not felt it again since, so I cannot be sure.

I will be looking for a place to store my journal in the coming days. It would seem I will be writing quite a bit, as it calms and centers me in this bustling city. Perhaps I will copy the pages already penned and gather them in a safe location, in case anything should happen to me (pickpockets, thugs and cutthroats, remember!).

At any rate, I will be heading into the sewers soon to see if I may be of assistance with a kobold problem. The local constabulary seems stretched to it's limits, and perhaps I can be of some small help. I shall put quill to scroll again when (and if) I emerge from those putrid tunnels. It would be bad form to soil my journal pages with whatever is clinging to the walls down there.

Girru Dro'Sakhar
2 Monk 1 Rogue

[GrayMouser]

Journal Entry 11 October 2009

I have been lax in posting to this journal, and make no excuses for it save to say I have been licking my wounds, once again. Life here in Stormreach is harsh, as I have come to learn the hard way. Thanks be to the Creator for the generous Spirit Binder I found in the tavern, for if it were not for him, my travels would have ended long ago, and ignominiously at that. As it is, I have been quaffing far too many healing potions than can possibly be good for my digestive tract, but cannot find any way around it.

Up until now, I have strove to be self-sufficient and make some small impact for the cause of good by my own deeds, but I am coming to realize it is akin to spitting on a bonfire. In my soul, I know what I do is for the right reasons, but at some point, we must all swallow our pride and admit we cannot face every obstacle alone. If it were not for the generosity shown me by a kind soul upon my arrival, I would not have made it this far, but my funds are quickly depleting, and if I do not find some way of replenishing them soon, my addiction to healing potions will force me to turn to less legal means of obtaining them.

It is with this thought in mind that I strike forth today in an effort to learn more about the guilds of the realm. I do not seek handouts or nursemaids, for in the end, each man should be able to stand on his own feet before his Maker, but in my current predicament I will not turn down a guiding hand, either.

Before I head out, though, I need to imbibe another potion...

Girru Dro'Sakhar
Monk 4 Rogue 1