Dnd Character Journal Novels & Stories

He found himself sneaking into my room for seconds late at night and out of desperation for a quick fuck fix and not wanting to let him know that I was done with him, and having to put up with drama I'd given in; bleh. Whatever, it's time to get back to the real world, time to finish what that asshole screwed up. Time to plan my grand return. I could already feel the excitement growing. Taking my diary out of hiding, I read over some of what I'd written since I'd been here and added to the notes I'd started working on the night before. I can't slip up now or shit would hit the fan and I am far from ready for that so I still need to stay in character. These notes help me remember shit.

Will Dante help me? ******************************************

I sit cross-legged on the floor, the journal balanced on my thighs, and flip it open. The first page is a mess. The handwriting is appalling. All slant and barely-there loops. I scoff aloud. "Wow. A killer and an egomaniac with illegible writing. Triple threat," I mutter through gritted teeth. I flip through a few more pages. There are angry scrawls, name lists, and dates. Some of which are torn out entirely. Then I pause when I spot a dried smudge. Red-brown. There's another one beside it.

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.

Looking around the room, I gently drag myself out of bed and walk towards the wooden shelves that contain books. Grabbing onto an old ancient book, I walk back to the bed and make myself comfortable on it before throwing the book open but from the first page, I am stunned. It is not a book but a journal, Derrick’s personal journal. I know I am not supposed to read it but something in it keeps drawing my attention and bracing myself, I turn to another page. ********** “As the moonlight bathed the forest in its beautiful glow, I felt an inexplicable restlessness surrounding me. My senses heightened, and an untamed power surged through my veins. It was as if a dormant beast had awakened, cravin

Allen Old also has other people around him, such as Big Bear and Jena, especially Big Bear. Sister Jena, in Snow Citadel is a famous flower contact, she can also use official means to find trouble for herself, but can't she also turn Jena sister into an idiot? Sister Jena have not grudges or hatred, and we probably haven't done anything that destroys the heavens. If we really did that, it went against our moral heart and delayed our practice. Old Allen saw Cadell Marcus suddenly sitting there motionless. He couldn't help but feel a little uneasy.

Back home, if I was lucky, two days of meals combined would not match what I had in a single sitting here. And that was on a good week. My stomach does not complain. It has learned patience. It knows how to wait. It knows how to quiet itself and accept what it gets. I sit cross legged on the bed with the journal they handed out on the first day. The cover is smooth and thick, the pages creamy and untouched. No real instructions came with it. Just a suggestion to write. Reflect. Process. I flip it open and stare at the blank page. Instead of writing, I start doodling in the margins.

I reached for a leather-bound journal, its pages worn and tattered from constant use. "This is it," I whispered to Dorian, who was standing behind me, looking around the room with interest. "My foster father's journal. I remember him writing some things bhere secretly, but I didn't think much of it. Now I think he might have written some things he learnt about your world." Dorian nodded, his eyes scanning over the pages. "This is valuable information. It could help us in our fight against anything which might cause a problem." I smiled, feeling a sense of pride in Charles' work. "I also want to take a few elixirs with me. They might come in handy."

"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."

Dora smiled warmly and handed me the old book, saying, "Your mother would have wanted you to have it. It's time for you to know the truth about your past." Different emotions ran through my blood as I looked at the journal, belonging to a woman I barely knew. I opened the worn pages of the journal. Inside, I found detailed accounts of her life, spells, and magical discoveries. The pages were filled with sketches, incantations, and notes. “Thank you,” I said as I put it into my bag. I stepped out of my chamber and was relieved to see Troy and Antonio waiting for me just as they had promised. Troy pulled him into his arms and hugged me tightly