Dnd Character Journal Novels & Stories

That familiar ache in my chest rises, but I suppress it and bring my focus back to the task at hand. The journal’s pages are cracked and yellowed, brittle at the corners. Some sections are smudged, others scratched out entirely. As if someone started writing and then changed his mind, or lost control halfway through. I slowly run a thumb over the margin, trying to piece it together once again. The entire journal consists of instructions on how to find an ancient, powerful relic, but there are no specific coordinates. Only the descriptions of the area, and notes on how important it is for the golden shield to keep the chaos contained.

His entire reason for breathing. I straightened up and wiped the tears before they could fall. Crying was useless. I had cried enough to fill an ocean and it had not changed a single thing. If Damien would not choose me on his own then I would remove the other option entirely. I went back to the bedroom and pulled a small leather journal from the bottom of my dresser drawer. Inside were contacts I had been collecting for years. Names and numbers of people across different territories. Nobles. Merchants. Information brokers. I kept them as insurance because a woman in my position could never have too many backup plans.

Notes like: “Add extra ginseng if he’s been gone more than three days, he likes the water warmer after patrols, or ‘He always sleeps better after clove oil.’ Every detail. Every preference. Every small thing I never noticed. I find myself sitting on the edge of the tub, the book trembling slightly in my grip. The pages whisper things I should’ve known. Things I should’ve seen. But I didn’t. Beneath the notes is something else—a folded sheet tucked into the spine. I pull it out. Her journal. Just a few entries. But they hit harder than any enemy has. “He smiled today. Just for a second. That’s enough.”

Hannah said in a bored voice. “So, what exactly are you doing?” Silas questioned coming over to stand next to me. “Truth brew” I answered as I opened the lid to my trunk, I remember the journal tucked in my dress and pulled it out to place in my trunk. My trunk held my life in a way, everything I deemed important enough to hold onto and the ingredients needed for various brews. My trunk not only had extension spells on it, but it also had various protection spells on it as well. I placed the journal inside, tucked away on one of the lower shelfs.

Definitely not who she was looking for. Just when she was about to pass the sixth name, she paused and the name aloud: "D. Reyes — Event Support, contracted through Vine Entertainment's hospitality division." She paused for a minute before jumping to her feet abd running back to the bedroom. She pulled the second journal from beneath the floorboard panel she'd created during her first week in the apartment, turned to a section and traced her finger against each word.

“I was starting to think the little slave girl had spit in your soup again and you’d decided to starve yourself to death.” Gary groaned. “Don’t start, Lucas.” Leaning forward on the worn table, Lucas pressed on with an expression of exaggerated sympathy. “We should begin keeping a journal for you, my dear friend. We could call it The Very Sad Diary of Alpha Alec. Chapter One: Day four of slowly losing my mind over the enemy girl with the pretty eyes.” I didn’t answer. Instead, I reached for the drink and swallowed half of it in a single drag. The burn of the brandy scorched its way down my throat—a sharp, welcome fire that silenced the noise in my head.

I'd almost swear I can feel the power of them pulsing off the paper. Most of the sheets I have in my hand are character sketches. Nearly all of them have "Cataclysm: Aftermath" scribbled across the top of the page, so it's no great leap to assume these are related to Cataclysm: Earth's sequel. The top sheet in my hand says "Jax Walton - Luca" under the title, and I guess from the notes that follow that he was sketching out the character arc for his brother's part. It's fascinating to read - after a quick bullet list of his physical appearance, Dante goes into an entire personality breakdown of the character. He lists strengths, weaknesses, fears, hidden desires... It's like looking into a

We immersed ourselves in my mom's journal. The journal revealed the boys' gifts: Mom wrote: 'Jasper', my beautiful treasure keeper, He holds the wisdom of the ancients; 'Connor', My strong protector, He wields elemental control; while 'River', my gentle soul, heals hearts and souls; and Kaden, My fearless warrior, possessed supernatural strength. Our eyes met, wonder sparkling. "Their gifts are amazing," Storm whispered. "Our family's legacy," I smiled, feeling grateful, and proud.. Together, we delved deeper into the journal, uncovering secrets and mysteries. The room glowed softly, filled with love and wonder. Our little family's destiny unfolded, and we were eager to explore it.

"No sedation needed this time. The child stopped screaming after the first incision.” My fingers went numb. I dropped the journal. It hit the floor with a muffled thump, the pages splaying open. There were more journals. Stacked haphazardly in a crate beneath the table. I pulled another one out, this time leather dyed blue. Gold initials on the spine. Someone had once been proud of this work. "Only a dragon can rule dragons. The blood must be bent, broken, reshaped. The Order fears me because I do what they will not. I evolve the breed."

He never did. On the third Friday, after drills, he handed me a leather-bound journal. The cover was plain but sturdy, the edges worn. A pencil was tucked inside. “What’s this?” I asked, turning it over. “A training log.” I raised a brow. “A… what?” “You write down what your body did for you. Not how you felt, not what you think. Just the facts. What changed, what improved, what failed.” I flipped through the blank pages, panic prickling under my skin.