Dnd Character Journal Novels & Stories

"How could you possibly know all this?" Norman tilted his head, that unsettling smile still playing on his lips. "You think you're the only one with eyes and ears in this city? Please." He pulled a worn leather journal from his jacket, flipped it open. Inside, pages and pages of cramped handwriting. Dates. Locations. Names. "I've found a hobby recently. Journaling. I've been documenting everything related to you. Every time Damon lets his guard down. Every secret meeting, every whispered threat, every crack in the armor."

After a while, I dropped the toy and finally picked up the journal, I set the box down in the closet and opened the journal. The entries started on the sixth of July, 1995, and the first one went thus; The worst thing happened to me today, on my tenth birthday. I’m so broken. I miss X. It’s a secret we both share, friends. I didn’t want to believe it was Damon who had made this entry in this journal, because what in the name of vulnerability was going on? The Damon I knew couldn’t be this vulnerable. And his birthday was on the sixth of July? That was only a few days away…

Even if there isn't. I went directly to Draco's room and luckily I didn't have to struggle with the lock because it was open, even if it wasn't open…I would have bashed it anyway. I began rummaging through his belongings and just as I was about to give up, I stumbled upon a book that looked like a journal. I wanted to abandon it but it looked like something that was really valuable and ancient so I opened it and behold ….it was filled with potions and spells and theories of the wolf world.

I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle another yawn. Despite being incredibly tired, I decide to jot down the recent events in my personal journal, my confidant that I made myself. The design is beautiful, the cover is a velvety hardcover with an image of a butterfly, in gradient colors of pink, blue, and yellow. The journal is completely covered, giving it the appearance of a small bag with a zipper. I end up falling asleep, and as I shift to my side, the journal slips from my lap.

“This is the year fourteen eighty eight of our Goddess Nix in the month of June. I am taking up the mantle of Knight to King Jasper Highmoon the First in service to the Great Pack. I, Nathaniel Hobbson, Son of Bartholomew Hobbson, will serve the Great Pack to the fullest of my self and the greater good of all Great Pack Kind and shall hereby record my finding, thoughts, and feelings, for future generations so they might learn and grow.” “This one is fun! It’s when they go to America!” Roland nodded in approval, his body relaxing some and leaning against the couch. Myra went on reading about things the “knight” did in service to the King, places they traveled, and then eventually the journal

I pressed myself against the wall. He stared for a few seconds. Then he turned and walked out. The door closed. I waited. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty. Only then did I step out. I released a breath. My hands were shaking. I looked at the journal. Something told me I shouldn’t have it. Something else told me I needed it. I opened it again. The first page was still there. To the next Luna who finds this… I turned the page. The writing continued. There are bloodlines the elders will deny.

"This means more to me than words can express." With renewed determination, Katie began using the journal to chronicle the stories of the individuals she had helped. Each entry was filled with heartfelt reflections, capturing the essence of their struggles and the triumphs they had achieved. The journal became a testament to the power of resilience, self-discovery, and the transformative nature of love.

November 27th My name is Leyanne Cruden, I have graced these lands for what feels like an eternity, although compared to humans I guess I have lived that. I have persevered through some of the worst and best decades and now I find myself in present day, the 2020’s. I keep this journal wherever I go to record my thoughts and feelings, my memories, so that my mind can let go of the mundane yet never lose a way to reminisce because I have lived hundreds of lifetimes. I hope that one day all that remains of me are these memories and I would have finally found peace in death, although it seems unlikely.

They do, however, talk a lot behind the back. Following Dale’s advice, I take to writing a journal. I buy one from the market, a leatherbound book of about a hundred ages, and a pen with ink. At first, it was a bit hard. I know how to write, but I feel like I’m so out of practice that my hand shakes whenever I try to shape letters. But eventually, this gets better. It seems like his advice in strengthening my recollection ability works, because four days after starting the journal, I start to get more memories.