A book, bound in black leather, lays before you on the side of the road.  The lettering on the front, embroidered in red, silken thread, is in a language you are only half-familiar with; Koboldese Yip Yap, a bastard tongue borne from the ancient language of the dragons.  Whoever wrote this was likely part of one of the few remaining Kobold clans that sparsely inhabited the underground tunnels and abandoned mines far from civilization.  But evidence of one roaming freely was strange indeed.  Strange enough to make you take a look inside.

Though you see a small, frantic-looking humanoid overturning bushes and darting nervously in a zigzag path towards you, likely looking for what you now hold, you have enough time to take in the hastily-scribbled writings locked away inside.

What lies within is the curious manifesto of an even more curious creature.

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Day 1: 

I have successfully absconded from my prison.  It is this day I will mark as the first day of my new life.  For above ground I feel there is both momentous opportunity, and a chance to explore what was left untouched in me when I still served my Father with such vigor and love.

Brother Kyssl'narhhr attempted to stop me, but he had no idea who he was dealing with.  Father Kreest ill-prepared his sons for me.  Spending all of his time in his inane pursuits, leading our blind flock of sheep to demise with his dreams of…of Ascension, as he so fondly refers to it as.  This nebulous concept that he preaches to us at all hours of the day, something only he was chosen for, that we, his children, were to support him with nothing to gain for ourselves.  

Simple, minded.  Simpleminded is what it is.  Simplistic.  Simpleclaw should be our family name, not Manaclaw.  For if we are descended from the dragons of old, then we have become wretched and basic and simple in our pursuits.  What dragon happily commits himself to servitude!?

Of course, when I came to this realization about the truth of Kreest's desires and our condition and spake it to my family, all of my brothers and sisters were too afraid to agree with me, though I know they know in their hearts I'm right.  They have to, there has to be some remnant of free thought left in them.  Some element of life, of self-preservation and desire.  Something that warrants them to be conscious creatures deserving of a brain, rather than the automatons they play as for Father Kreest's amusement.  Is there not some spark of liberty in them?  There must be…but a spark, perhaps, left in a cage with a lock so complex that years of solitary rumination could not produce a key to unlock them for their own benefit.  The flaws of this cage are so obvious, it could be broken with thought alone…yes, perhaps that is it.  The cage I left myself in was broken when I thought.  But my brothers and sisters do not think.  They merely do.  Do the bidding of a Father who does not even share our scales.  How can they be so oblivious?

But what is the solution to this, what makes someone think?  Perhaps for my brothers and sisters it is some sort of revolutionary tumult.  But for me, it is simply not to care.  As much as it breaks my heart…well, perhaps there is no true heartbreak here.  Just a mild nausea, perhaps, knowing I was bred in those tunnels of ignorance, and spent 25 years of my life in servitude to a con artist.  I have to ignore it…for I cannot help my family if they won't help themselves first.  I must move forward alone.

Yes…I must resolve to make my own way, as painful as it is.  Brother Neero, Sister Ssriyua, even righteous Kyssl'narhhr…someone's company would be nice.  But they would only attempt to drag me back into my subservient ways of the past.  Someone will attempt to force me under their wing, I full-well know it.  They will take my mind hostage again.  I cannot allow that to happen.

I'm trekking…north now?  I'm not sure.  I have rations, and a large book to hold my thoughts, to remind me of myself if someone does successfully destroy my defenses.  I will use it to build myself back up again…there is a great hunger for myself within this empty void of my mind.  I need more me inside of me.  But I don't know what "me" is.

I will find me somewhere out here.  Beginning with a new name.  One that I tried to give myself, upon sneaking into Father's study and reading some of his history books concerning magic.  It is someone else's name…but the sound of it on my tongue is just right.  I will make it my own.

Ever watching, constant vigil
Silent Magus of Manaclaw Sigil
Urr'shree was I, with darkened sight
Ivacus am I, stepped into light.

Day 2:

I've taken a closer look at the book I have taken from Father's study before leaving after making camp in the foothills of the mountains I now find myself in.  Apparently it was not as empty as I thought it was…a smaller book was hidden between the pages of this one…the front and back were empty but for a few notes on the…"Alchemical catalysis of metals [Written in Common]," whatever that means.  The notes were too incomplete for me to learn much more.  But this book is strange compared to the others I have read.  Most of my Father's books are normally covered in his scribbled notes, and can be even thicker than my tail.  This was small, only about two hundred pages thick, and completely barren of my father's hand.  Perhaps he had forgotten about it…but upon opening it, I understand why he may have hidden it.

Being father's scribe has taught me how to speak Common…the language of those above, as he once told me.  And thankfully unlike some of his other tomes, this was written in it.  It seems to be difficult to decipher, there are a lot of words I can't quite fathom just yet.  But upon my first glances within, I have two important facts to begin with.

Grimorium Necrotica is its name.  And the author?  

Ivacus Grimmholden.  The namesake i had found one day by chance upon poring through that tome of magickal history, once again finding his way into my life.  Though I seek to find myself, I perhaps think fate has set forth a path for me to follow.  I cannot believe this is mere coincidence…but I shall remain objective in my pursuits.  I must survey the path before I tread it.  And so far it seems…interesting, to say the least.  There are handdrawn pictures of the human anatomy, and I managed to pick out the phrase "dead rising" quite a bit.  

Come to think of it, Father had always told me magic was capable of a great many things…perhaps making life from death is equally as possible as conjuring a flame or enchanting a weapon.  Regardless, it won't help me much in my current situation.  I have to find some place to stay; the road I am taking between these towering spires of rock grows treacherous, and my rations are far from infinite.  But there is a forest before me; despite its grand size, I am sure there must be something in there.  I will continue my trek towards it.

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Day 5: 

I've set up camp in the outskirts of this forest.  It looks exceptionally deep and dark within…quite foreboding.  I truly wish I had my brothers and sisters here…even Father [these words are scratched out heavily].

No, no, no, not again, I don't need to rely on him anymore.  I never did.  And I never will.  I am my own.  I have to be.

As my rations have grown more sparse, I realized that I would have to find food at some point in order to keep moving forward in my travels.  Thankfully, spending my time deciphering the Grimorium Necrotica has provided me with some assistance in that regard.

I've learned how to severely weaken some of the small animals i come across now…it takes a lot of concentration, and I felt incredibly drained the first time I tried it…but after a while I succeeded.  Just today, I was able to make a squirrel pass out, giving me the opportunity to eat real meat for the first time since I left Father's realm.  Food should be no problem, as long as my tinderbox holds out.  I am surviving.  That is all that matters.  And perhaps the more I practice, the less energy I'll use the next time I cast this strange spell.  It feels much like exercising a muscle…I can only hope that patience and repetition will lead me to mastery.

Thank Ashrryrh for the magick that flows within my blood.  Father once told me not everyone possessed the power to perform magick, and the reason he chose us as his family was due to our ability to use it.  He said we were uniquely privileged.  He said that with his guidance and love, we were destined for great things.

Great servitude, more like it.

I honestly at times wish I hadn't heard what I did coming from his mouth…but at the same time, I know that to ignore it is folly.  There was a time when I could blindly trust Father Kreest…part of me still does.  But I must force myself not to.  The only thoughts, the only desires I can trust in are my own.  I must remain vigilant, even in this time of isolation.

At any rate: my water canteen is dropping dangerously low, but I can hear running water ahead.  I will press on towards it, and hopefully I'll be able to take a rest and set up a new camp there.  Perhaps this Grimoire will provide me with more useful knowledge as well.