The journal you're holding looks a bit odd, though you can't place your finger on the why. The writing seems strange, not unrefined but written in a strange way. The ink hasn't seeped into the paper and the writing doesn't show through the paper despite the words looking like they were written by a strong hand. Only a real insightful scholar or experienced traveler would figure out the rather simple explanation for the appearance: These words were written with near frozen ink on frozen pieces of paper.

The first half of the journal is rather simple and boring, outlining the daily life of a clearly arrogant and spoiled young person living in a society that sounds quite underdeveloped but with great confidence in their own greatness. The writer, a 'Geluscentra' named Girshu, is apparently a promising progeny amongst his people (or at least he claims to be) well-versed in cryomancy and developing new ice magicks. The writing outlines a life that, allegedly, slowly climbs up in the ranks to becoming one of the leaders of his kingdom. Short mentions of things from his personal life are given, but the writer only briefly and shallowly mentions things like his wife (?) and the batch of eggs they aparently have.

The first interesting page of the journal is written in a much larger font and clearly with a shaking hand:

Lava demon. Damn lava demon! Attacked us. Surprised us. Killed us.

So many dead. So many screaming. Our shedded blood so cold, his saliva so hot. It attacked us so suddeny, killed us so swiftly.

Had to run. Couldn't do anything but run. Ran and ran until I no longer heard the screams.

Remorhaz attacked. Lava demon. Most feared predator. Greater than us, greater than all. Spits lava, immune to cold. Abberation! Monster! Demon!

Had to run. Had to abandon others. Only fools would stay and fight that thing, no matter what the law says. Fighting that demon is suicide. Many ran. Many smart.

The page after that is once again with the collected and more calm handwriting from before, but the date suggests that many weeks have passed between the two entries.

I'm being exiled!

From all the indignities that they could put me through, they chose to make me an example and exile me for my 'cowardise'. I wasn't the only one who ran, and few of the ones who fought survived. But I was the one they chose to procecute. Just because I was the first to run. I was the closest to the beast when it appeared, of course I was the first to run. A matter of random chance, not personality or bravery.

That damnable Charza, the arrogant fool! From all the ones who fought, why did he have to survive? The old fool is more confident of his hunting skills than the rest of the hunting party combined. He's delusional enough to not fear a Remorhaz when it attacks and kills our strongest in ten seconds flat. But no, Charza keeps telling everyone that we could've slain the beast if none ran.

He got all the others who stayed killed, lost his arm and is now deformed by crippling burn marks. He can't fight no more, hunt no more. He can barely take care of himself. He clearly made the wrong choice by fighting, everyone can see that. But they don't acknowledge it. They find it so easy to say that they too would've fought the lava demon had they been there, so easy to think that they could quell their instincts.

The old fool keeps pointing blame at me. He hates me, he does. He loathes me. He hates how I am catching up with him, how fast I grow, how soon I shall surpass his power. His old body only deteriorates, while mine is filled with untapped potential. He hated me before the attack, and now he's acting on his hatred. Clever man, deforming himself like this to hide how he is slowly regressing. Clever, to tarnish my name like this. How I hate him.

His words hold so much sway right now. I can tell that they'll exile me. Make me a scapegoat for this embarrassing event. Not our leader who led us and failed us, for he is dead. Not the others, who ran like I did. And definately not Charza, who's faulty tracking led us straight into a Remorhaz's domain without noticing.

His fault, his fault, his fault! He should be the one loathed and banished! But no, none listen to me! They all listen to the foolish 'war-hero' who got so many killed and failed to defeat the beast. They all blame me, for no reason!

I'm being exiled.

I'm being exiled…

I will soon be exiled from my lands, into the harsh and warm lands beyond it…

I don't want to leave my home…

Degrading. Without respect. Cast out like trash.

That's what they did with me. Just put me on a sleet of ice and sent me adrift on the ocean. They said that they put me on a sea current that would lead to the nearest land, but I doubt they'd care if my ride would melt before it reaches the damnable place. It didn't, fortunately, but things got close as my improvised ship melted to half its size before it reached the Svero ice drifts. I got off and returned to solid ground somewhere west of the Haltian mountains, a former region of our people. Not that many of us remain now, the volcanic eruption's heat killed most of our kind. The rest was presumably slain by those damnable ice elves not soon after.

Perhaps I should stay here. The place is nice and cold, with plenty of prey to feast on. There are bears, yetis and deer a plenty. I could live in these hospital mountains where the warmblooded don't come. It's always cold, so pleasantly cold. Some of my kind may even linger here still, in the ice caves that are even more alike home. We always did get along just fine with the natives, endulging their little human sacrifice schtick and joining them on the hunt for the ice elves. Or at least, that's what I've been told.

No. I won't degrade myself into a hermit living on the outskirts of my people's lands! Like I'm a beggar waiting for someone to take pity on me and summon me back! I won't live here in these lands all alone like a savage, waiting for others to come to me. Is that what their intent was? That I would stay here and begin rebuilding our Haltian mountain homes, or die so they'd know the place was no longer safe for our kind? Screw that!

Just because they don't expect me to go beyond the habitable line of permafrost and seek out my quarry, doesn't mean I won't do it! I'll show them! I will kill those damnable fire salamanders and then throw their tongues in Charza's face. He never fought a fire salamander, he never even saw one. But those rivals of our kind, foes of our very existence, their deaths will immediately pale his achievements like the sun pales the stars! Yes, as long as he doesn't thwart me one last time by croacking before I return, I can humiliate him and make him die a worthless and unrespected hunter of nothing! No fame! No mourning! Just thrown into the sea like the outdated common hunter he is!

I must travel further. I will travel further. First, I must reach the east side of Itjivut, then I'll look what my options are to get to the mainland. But I'll have to get past those pesky ice elves first. Those damnable creatures, if they get a whiff of me they'll no doubt hunt me down and string me up. Skin my scaled hide for frost leather and carve out my bones for magical wands. Use my blood for ice magicks and my talons for their arrow tips. Those cruel creatures, no doubt they are still such uncivilised savages killing their enemies like that. Must avoid them at all costs.

I'm getting hungry. My wife usually catches fish for me to eat. She prepared some salted fish for my journey, a last token of our marriage before the exiling divorces us. But that fish is running low, I needed most to feed myself while adrift. There's no telling how scarce food will be in the warm lands beyond. I should hunt and regain my strength while I'm still in the hospitable Haltian mountains. Get enough procured meat to last me a while. I think three yeti livers and some deer will do.

Things are progressing as planned, even better than before. I met a man in the Haltian mountains, a traveller who wanted to see sights that no other had seen before. A weathered and prepared wanderer who knows how to get around and is a great source of information on any land beyond here. His corpse now lies somewhere in a crack of ice with his belly ripped open, waiting for a predator to chance upon it.

His cloak will lend itself well to keep me cold in the warmer lands to the north, and his backpack and sacks are most useful. Such simple items are hard to come by in this wilderness, but they certainly are invaluable. He also had some rations, silver and simple survival tools. I don't need the warmth of a fire, so I tossed the tinder box. There are some other weird items he had, including a pocketwatch of sorts that only points in one direction. I have no idea what it's for, but perhaps it's worth some silver. I know the simple metal is important in the lands beyond, for some reason. Not for items, but simply because it's silver. I don't quite understand what's that about. But I know I should keep it on me for now.

The map he was carrying, that's definately the most valuable item he had. To me, at least. Itjivut isn't on it, but I don't need it to be. I know the general direction and lay of the land of this island. The mainland of Canelux on the other hand, it's most useful that I now know what it looks like. I will probably go to Aneluna first, apparently the city is large and half the ships head in that direction. That's fine, it means that there's also a lot of ships leaving from that place to anywhere in the world. 

Where I should go exactly, that's a bit of a mystery though. Perhaps I should seek out a frozen region further to the north, away from the sneer of my former community but permanently encased in permafrost. I could probably survive on a mountain top, if there's enough wildlife in the area. Or I could find the polar region to the far north, fantastical fabled land but perhaps one that exists. Though I haven't quite resigned myself to exile yet. I just don't know where exactly I should look for those damnable fire salamanders I have to hunt down. Apoy would be a good place to start, probably. An active volcano sounds exactly like the place to find those wretched creatures. Though this land called Horae, with part covered in an eternal winter, also sounds welcoming.

Hm, decisions. I'll see where I can go once I arrive in Aneluna. Maybe I won't go to new frozen lands to begin with. Perhaps this silver that the warmth-cravers desire so badly and the inhumane practices of hunting monsters can be used to my advantage, a reward that will make them slay the fire salamanders for me. I should save this currency up, just in case.