Introductory note.
Recent events have brought me to begin recording my life with ink.
You see, I have a tale to tell. A tale of life, love, death and debauchery to name a few. I am, as many would call, a leach on the great pure body that is society. I lie, cheat, steal, all for my own gain. I rarely regret it, honestly. I am the putrid wound under the bandage. I represent what kings and lords don't want you to see in their cities.
It is then, to their benefit, that I work in the shadows. Which is one of the main reasons I am writing in this notebook. As much crime as I have committed, I'd like to think I've done my share of good deeds. I intend on having you, whoever finds this journal, remember me, Flint the thief. Flint the scoundrel, the scammer. I want you to remember me as something better than most would have you believe. I intend on having my tales one day sang by a bard in some run down tavern down an alley in Essyrn or Reajh.
I've seen more than most men can brag. Gods, demons, battles and wars. Economic empires rise and fall, corruption run through cities like floodwater. If you decide to keep on reading, dear friend, you will learn the story of a young street rat who grew up to become a highly skilled and dangerous thief. You will hear of my tale: Flint, thief, Con man, and for a time, Champion of a god. You'll hear of my good fortune, my allies and enemies, and even my mistakes.
Who knows, maybe I'll make it to the end.