Caught on this forsaken island. Here I sit on one of it’s shores, scribing nonsensical words into this journal that I’ve kept since I was taught to write. The older pages are faded from the wind-water spray of the ocean of my time stranded by the cataclysms.
**The writer sighs heavily.**
There has been no sign of anyone I know. which ultimately means there is less about to trust, which is fine by me. There is not much known here of what has happened to the rest of the world of Norrath, and my beloved home Neriak. Oh!, what I wouldn’t give to stroll the streets of the foriegn quarter right now.