"This will be my first entry in this journal, if it can be called such."
Mathell paused, running a hand across his bearded chin.
He raised the quill briefly, prodding his lower-lip with the piece.
"I have recently arrived in the city Sundren, a welcome respite of civilization from my long trek through the north."
A second pause took place, the somber-eyed young man recalling recent events.
"In my short time here, I have come to witness a great deal.
In the surrounding lands, the locals suffer from what appears as countless evils.
Banditry in form of goblins, gnolls and ogres are only the first of which I have encountered myself."
Mathell grimaced, unsavory memories of the several battles he had seen himself - and others through, returning to him.
"When I left the City of Skilled Hands, so long ago now, I did so in faith of finding a region more devoid of my lord's hands;
here I have done so."
The quill scratched messily across parchment, the Kelemvorite's otherwise steady hand wavering as idle memories crossed him.
"In a land so plagued by hardship and strife, I am utterly shocked at the lack of my brothers' and sisters' presence.
The people here find their strengths in the worthy servants of Tyr, Torm and Illmater.
A grouping dubbed "The Triumvirate".
In addition to this trio, I have found the followers of the Vigilant One to be in great number and strength within the city walls."
Mathell glanced upwards, his idle green eyes scanning the ceiling of the inn.
"It is strange to me, how I have found the populace to think and operate.
They place such emphasis, I have seen, on remaining strong and upright.
They raise themselves through the thicket of concern and doubt.
Yet in the midst of this, I am grossly saddened and bewildered still at how the dead are left as an afterthought."
His eyes strayed from his writing to the ceiling yet again, down to a intricate symbol of his deity, Kelemvor, Lord of the Dead.
"I must reconsider the words I have written, now, as my mind winds back to the battles I have fought here.
The Ilmatari I have encountered have been a great aid in my travels throughout the region,
they being, as I have seen, those most reverent and caring for the fallen."
Mathell reviewed what he had written quickly, sighing all the while.
"Yet still, as this is a private recalling of my time here, I will be honest.
If ever I had come across a land in need of Kelemvor's hand, this would be it.
The populace are wary of my faith, I have found, from the briefest of discourses.
In a land where battle seems a constant and premature death among the ordinary,
I can only assume a cleric of the great Judge frightens them further."
Blinking wearily at the parchment, the young cleric scribbled a largely illegible ending to his first entry,
seeming ill at ease with his own thoughts.
"I will venture beyond the city walls again, on the morrow.
While I am seemingly alone in this place, it is my duty to make Kelemvor's voice heard, and how often have I heard;
"Let no human in all Faerûn die a natural death without one of Kelemvor’s clerics at her side".
I fear death will come again in the wilderness, as it has so oft now.
I only hope I am able to be there, to guide, heal or avenge."
Mathell paused, running a hand across his bearded chin.
He raised the quill briefly, prodding his lower-lip with the piece.
"I have recently arrived in the city Sundren, a welcome respite of civilization from my long trek through the north."
A second pause took place, the somber-eyed young man recalling recent events.
"In my short time here, I have come to witness a great deal.
In the surrounding lands, the locals suffer from what appears as countless evils.
Banditry in form of goblins, gnolls and ogres are only the first of which I have encountered myself."
Mathell grimaced, unsavory memories of the several battles he had seen himself - and others through, returning to him.
"When I left the City of Skilled Hands, so long ago now, I did so in faith of finding a region more devoid of my lord's hands;
here I have done so."
The quill scratched messily across parchment, the Kelemvorite's otherwise steady hand wavering as idle memories crossed him.
"In a land so plagued by hardship and strife, I am utterly shocked at the lack of my brothers' and sisters' presence.
The people here find their strengths in the worthy servants of Tyr, Torm and Illmater.
A grouping dubbed "The Triumvirate".
In addition to this trio, I have found the followers of the Vigilant One to be in great number and strength within the city walls."
Mathell glanced upwards, his idle green eyes scanning the ceiling of the inn.
"It is strange to me, how I have found the populace to think and operate.
They place such emphasis, I have seen, on remaining strong and upright.
They raise themselves through the thicket of concern and doubt.
Yet in the midst of this, I am grossly saddened and bewildered still at how the dead are left as an afterthought."
His eyes strayed from his writing to the ceiling yet again, down to a intricate symbol of his deity, Kelemvor, Lord of the Dead.
"I must reconsider the words I have written, now, as my mind winds back to the battles I have fought here.
The Ilmatari I have encountered have been a great aid in my travels throughout the region,
they being, as I have seen, those most reverent and caring for the fallen."
Mathell reviewed what he had written quickly, sighing all the while.
"Yet still, as this is a private recalling of my time here, I will be honest.
If ever I had come across a land in need of Kelemvor's hand, this would be it.
The populace are wary of my faith, I have found, from the briefest of discourses.
In a land where battle seems a constant and premature death among the ordinary,
I can only assume a cleric of the great Judge frightens them further."
Blinking wearily at the parchment, the young cleric scribbled a largely illegible ending to his first entry,
seeming ill at ease with his own thoughts.
"I will venture beyond the city walls again, on the morrow.
While I am seemingly alone in this place, it is my duty to make Kelemvor's voice heard, and how often have I heard;
"Let no human in all Faerûn die a natural death without one of Kelemvor’s clerics at her side".
I fear death will come again in the wilderness, as it has so oft now.
I only hope I am able to be there, to guide, heal or avenge."
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