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I see the face of death and my breath is filled with blood, but I must implore any who find this journal to send it to any remaining Temple of True Order. It is more important than any time or resources you spend to spirit it as quickly as possible. If you have read to this page, you must recognize its importance. Please, heed a dying man’s wish.

First; my conclusions based upon the final words of Agemo to the Priests of the True Order. The war is coming and nothing can stop it. It will start when the Sanlwye, scattered and powerless as they are now, gather together and strike at the gods. They will succeed in killing one or more of our divine lords and they will fight amongst each other rather than band together against the threat, so some sort of plot will be in action. Jehxstia shall return from his prolonged absence, which will mean only good for the humans that are now defecting to the usurper Lwyion and other gods. He spoke of the True Order returning, though his words were cryptic and uncertain; which means either Xabre shall return from his death at the hands of Jasthok or his successor shall appear. Also, he spoke of great heroes rising to keep mortals from falling under the weight of the coming conflict, and I only hope that those will be followers of the right cause.

Now, it seems I have time to write of my predicament. I made it down the cliffs to the large landmar with excellent time considering the journey up when I was assaulted by the aura of Qahmer. My exhaustion (why did I not heed the words of Agemo?) combined with the powerful feeling of apartness and contentment caused me to completely release my holds on the rocks and plunge downward. The feeling of panic, fear, and realization that I was about to die was perhaps the worst experience I had ever felt. I landed in the grove of trees on the low cliff upon which I entered the Drifting Peaks. It partially broke my fall, but it also broke my legs and a branch was strong enough to pierce my armor in my abdomen and stab me viciously. My pack, including this all important journal, had fallen not into the grove, however, but fell further off into the land below.

With my two broken legs, I spent the next… -I am not sure how long it was, my vision is too blurry and my mind too broken with pain- dragging myself down Mount Heigh in search of my pack. Luckily, it was on the path itself and I came across it in my desperate, almost futile search. I fumbled for the journal inside and wrote my important message, scrapping most of the pages and tossing them to the wind so as to not distract any who find it. I have left only my journey to his house and my talk with him, which I believe sufficient.

Even as I write this sentence I feel death closing in. I do hope that my armored corpse will protect the journal from wolves or other such raving monsters, and my pack should be thick enough to keep the vultures off.

Good luck world and especially good luck to the True Order. I would ask for someone to send condolences to my newlywed, but even now I am under oath to not reveal my name. I am a man of my duty.

- M, Knight of True Order

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