Role

Chapter 2

Dear Journal,

Life outside of Darsylon is...not what I expected. Shortly after setting out
on my own, I had made camp in the Mountains to the east of the green valley I
had called home, a bit off of the trail. The small magics I had learned from
scholars hired by my mother were enough to keep me comfortable--I could start
a fire, purify water from a muddy stream to drink, and set wards of wind to
alert me to approaching lifeforms...but it wasn't enough.

Thelaf alfesspfp afj....I ahfah walsdfllsa.ss.s...

Damn. My fingers grew too cold for a moment to keep writing, and I needed to
warm them in my armpits. I suppose I should note that the only belongings I
have left are the ragged clothes on my back and this pen and notebook...all I
managed to grab when I took a chance to escape. Apparently the bandits who
attacked my camp weren't literate enough to think it valuable.

It's sometime after dawn, and I managed to escape from the dark-clad men
with bare blades and black teeth, but not before they beat me bloody. They
LAUGHED the whole while, enjoying my pain. Luckily, I'm too cold to feel
much at the moment. I was forced to run farther up the mountain, and the
boulders I'm tucked in between are dusted with snow.

This was the evil in men my mother warned me about, why she had never
thought to leave Darsylon. Why my father shunned so much of society, instead
preferring the company of wild creatures. The anger I feel, at least, is
warming.

Despite my dire situation, I have a beautiful view of the mountains and sky.
The sunrise is turning the sky red, and dark clouds on the horizon flash with
lightning, like enervated bruises on the ceiling of the world. I can smell
electricity in the air, an unusual scent against the biting cold that freezes
the hair in my nostrils.

I've heard there's power in a storm, and I'm planning on doing the only thing
I can think to do--try to harness some of the energy blowing my way to shield
myself from the biting cold, so that I don't freeze to death. I know a true
frostshield is far outside my ability, but I've managed to at the very least
encase my fingers in frost...when the storm comes, I'm going to try to combine
this minor spell with that of the shocking touch, drawing from the storm's
lightning.

I pray to the Lord of Storms it works, or this will be my last journal entry
and my corpse will remain frozen between these boulders until the spring thaw.