A number of hastily scribbled mumbles.

[Gruul]

I've always wanted to keep a journal of all the things I hear people say, including myself. People seem to say pretty interesting things some of the time, and I don't see why we should be cursed to only hear such marvellous constructions of language once when I, Gruul, can write them all down in a book. None of these speeches, sayings, songs and poems will be specifically helpful in real-life situations, but some of these well worded quotes may be able to reassure you and myself on the conundrum we call personal opinions and morales. Anyway, along the way I shall dot these specific "mumbles" down on to this withered parchment and see where it takes me. To all who read my journal, where ever you may be, enjoy it and try your best to take something new with yourselves along whatever road you folks find yourself upon. - Gruul.

[Gruul]

A story of rememberance. Once upon a time within the body of a great forest, there was a city where our ancestors had lived, their very existence a mystery to the rest of the world, obscured as it was by great trees. Here they played out their peaceful lives, innocent of the litany of excess and violence that was growing in the world below. To live in harmony with the spirit of nature was enough. Then one day Strange folk arrived in the forests. They came disguised, hidden behind dark robes, but no one noticed them: they only saw shadows. You see, without the Truth of the Eyes, the our ancestors were blind. In time, these bald creatures found their way into the higher reaches of the forests and it was there that they found the mysteries of un-imaginable beauty laying deep within the trees. By chance, they stumbled upon a sacred place of sanctity. The people, they coveted the trees and food of these forest above all things, and soon they began to destroy our ancestors, their greed seam adding to the chaos that was building in the world below. Meanwhile, up in the spires, our ancestors slept restlessly, their dreams invaded by shadowy figures digging away at their souls. Every day, our ancestors would wake and stair at the sky. Why where these people bringing darkness into their lives? And as the strangers grew more reckless and reckless, holes began to appear, bringing with them a cold and bitter wind that chilled the very soul of our ancestors. For the first time, our ancestors felt fearful for they knew that soon the world would stir from its deep sleep. And then came a sound. Distant at first, it grew into castrophany so immense it could be heard beyond the reaches of the world. Then came a blessing. There was no warning. The valterrian had happened. There was only fire. And then from the ashes, we where reborn, the Jamoura. I decided to write this story down as, it made me for the first time, sad. The emotion is stirred in me near brought a tear to my eye, and due to this I feel it worth being kept in my journal.

[Gruul]

A song I called a Sarcasm of wind, I'm not sure what it's about exactly, but I suppose i'll leave it to the vast world that is your imagination. A Sarcasm of wind. I am a wind through the pines I am a spark between two stones I am the sound of the storm I am a beast of seven combats I am a bird upon a cliff I am the silence of the sun I am fair I am a fire for valour I am a trout in a pool I am water in a cloud I am the excellence of music I am a roar that wages battle and casts blood. I am a god who forms subjects for a ruler Who explains the pain of the mountains? Who invokes the changing of the moon? Where does the sun set? Who brings wisdom to the people? Why do those with wisdom laugh? What man, what god, forms weapons? Indeed, then; I invoked a sarcasm... a sarcasm of wind.