D&D The Black Journal - Part 3

Here is the third group of entries from the ongoing black journal project I've written for my Dungeons & Dragons campaign. You can find the previous group of entries HERE.

• The enemy King is dead and my people’s fate is secure. Tonight I sleep in the large hall where his throne once sat. A great fire roars in the center of the room, kept fed by the green and gold banners which have been torn down. The war has meant years of fighting and sacrifice, many of which I remember... but not all of it. I remember a young boy whose father began this war to ensure the long lasting safety of his borders - or so he claimed. A father who fell in battle so that his son could take his place as King. The son honored his father’s campaign and carried on with the battle, costing many more lives. There were times when the fighting threatened to annihilate both sides. How many subjects can a single kingdom lose before it is no longer a kingdom? Still we fought, assured in our belief that death was far better than the encroaching rule of a malicious fiend. As we rode into the city, few men and women remained to stand in our way - even the King’s guard consisted of only a few proud soldiers. The enemy King was defeated before we even arrived. Looking around, it was clear that those who lived here had been well cared for by a loving ruler, but the war had driven them into starvation and poverty. This wasn’t the city of a tyrant. He stood and looked me in the eye as we marched into his hall. I dispatched him without a word. What was there to say?

 

• My people have bestowed me with the title of ‘The Enlightened King’. They see my great knowledge as wisdom granted by Pelor and they follow me with love and zeal. Few advisers know my secret source of knowledge, and none of them know the terrible price I pay to obtain it. Neither the price nor our victory in war has stopped me from continuing to use the artifact. I find that knowledge is like any power - and perhaps it’s the greatest power of all. Like an addict, I now turn to the ring for even the simplest of questions. Each time I do, I forget something from my past. I wish I could say I regret my loss, but how can a man miss something he doesn’t remember having?

 

• I’ve grown hungry to learn the secrets of this universe. I now have knowledge beyond what even the most prolific of scholars could hope to discover in a lifetime. What is life and death? Who created man and why? Sometimes I feel the artifact hesitate and give half-answers. This has become normal behavior for the ring, and I sense that it doesn’t enjoy relinquishing secrets such as these. It has on occasion answered me in riddles or metaphor. Today, however, it refused me entirely - claiming that no mortal could comprehend the answer to my question. In a fit of rage I demanded it tell me its secret, but the ring has outsmarted me and I have now forgotten the question I so desired the answer to.