The accounts told here are contained in a dusty leather booklet. The leather around the edges has been eaten away by the decay of time and the passing of years has turned the parchment a yellow color. The book is left unprotected in a case, often in the room where ever Demarius is resting.
____________________________________________________________________________
Entry 1.
It has been asked of me why I do what I do. I have spent the past one hundred and seven years of my life in a perpetual state of war. I fight for many reasons and I have killed so many people in my years. I have taken to writing in this journal, so that I may speak to someone the truth of... myself.
My name, my true name, is Demarius Allerian Hawkwind, I am not a normal person by any means and I shall tell my tale, or at least pieces of it in these pages. First of all, I know the last two pieces of my name aren't what anyone was expecting. Yet, people forget I was born just like everybody else. I had a mother and father who loved me, or so I was told. Allerian was the name of my uncle, who I assume still lives somewhere out there.
The reason I had to be told was because like many people who share my race and bloodline, I lost my parents in a war, raid or attack by some monster of unspeakable horror. It is little comfort to know I wasn't alone having no children, in fact it made me feel somewhat worse that there were few middle aged men or women in my village.
The truth is... I am a Moon Elf. I know if you are reading this, you are asking many questions and I will answer them all in time. The most important thing you should know is that I am basically human save for a few slight differences. My ears are longer compared to humans, my eyes have an oval shape and my skin is silvery. Most importantly, my lifespan is roughly ten times that of a human. It shall be hundreds of years before I die.
With that out of the way, I should explain why my parents died and many of the others died as well. My race, as well as the humans and Dwarves are engaged in a seemingly never ending war against the races some dub the 'beastmen'. I much prefer the term Demi-humanoid, sounds more accurate. These races are Orcs, Goblins, Minotaur and Trolls.
Let it be said, that these creatures are always the ones to strike first. The Orcs and Minotaur raid our villages for sport, where as Goblins and Trolls simply cannot live off the land by itself. They must kill and take our people along with our crops. They are the scourge of the place I come from, and our peoples wage war upon them to defend themselves.
That however is not enough, not by a long shot, to defend the people. You see alongside the Demi-humans... There are other terrors that threaten the land. Plagues of undead creatures infest graveyards. Dragons scorch the sky with the flames from their lungs. The gods themselves play games with mortals as their pawns and finally, wizards of great power toy with the very of reality as a child toys with puzzle.
Thus, our peoples have responded. They have forged a type of people like myself, who use all forms of abilities to fight to ensure the continued survival of all people. There are many names for people like I. Some call us Adventurers, others call us Wanderers and some still call us Heroes.
Wizards, Men-at-arms, Clerics and Assassins all, we go one step beyond those who fight for their homelands. We take up the sword, the spell, the mace or the dagger and we hit them where it hurts. We are the ones to go willingly into an ghoul infested crypt and return the undead to rest. We are the ones who defeat the evil wizard who raises an army of Orcs and lay claim on the land and finally... we are those who go into the dens of Dragons and slay the beasts where they lay.
We are the ones who ensure that the peoples of this world survive. We are the adventurers. Without us the armies of the world would be hard pressed against orc tribes and dragon flame.
That is not to say that anyone can become an adventurer. In our land, our culture, becoming an adventurer is a serious choice. One that is respected, and feared, by anyone involved. The people understand the need for adventurers to kill the dragons who would otherwise terrorize the world.
However, the loved ones of those who become adventurers both cheer and celebrate whilst others weep openly when the decision is made. Let me explain, when someone becomes an adventurer there is a chance that they will become known world wide. There is mention of a distant cousin of my race who travels alongside a panther, anyone who knows him knows his name and his tales across the world.
He saved many villages and countless lives. The monsters he has slain are many and the wealth he has beyond measure now. Yet, he is one of the very few who survive. I have done a study on this, after all these are my people now. I have found that one out of every five adventurers die within their first month of doing what they do.
This number dramatically increases as these fledgling adventures gain fame. Assassins are sent to prevent them from becoming truly powerful, for often times they are strong enough to change the tide between factions in war, or give one country an advantage over another.
And to be frank, Adventurers tend to be a bit arrogant and they have a nasty habit of getting into the affairs of others. I know I sure as shit do that. Yet, if this is good or bad I will debate later on in this journal. That isn't what I am talking about at the moment.
The other reason why some cheer at the prospect of family members becoming an adventurer is that... if they survive. Those who make it become the wealthiest of all the people in the world. After all, it is us who slay the dragon and are able to keep the dragons horde all to ourselves.
Selfish, but also somewhat needed. After all, we require to buy potions and magical equipment to continue our survival. I know my armor, weapons and magical augments could cost upwards to five thousand gold. If not more. I am aware this amount of money could feed a large city for a week. However, I required the weapons and armor I wear so I could help in slaying the dragon that was going to burn that entire city.
So its a dilemma. And in the end, I made the choice to be the adventurer.
How I became an adventurer? Well... That is another story. I have spoken entirely about what an adventurer is, and why they are needed. I may elaborate more on this at a later time, but it is late and I must enter Reverie.
