The Watcher

The Twilight Diaries: A New Beginning

This is the first day I have written since my ship crashed upon the shore of this continent. As my original diary has surely been lost to Umberlee, I have acquired this small leather bound tome from which I scribe these words still lost in amazement at the situation I have found myself in.
The armor in which my host has imparted upon me has qualities that would peak the curiosity of many a scholar back home no doubt. My broken body seems to have mended itself upon it's use. Though the chore of donning such gear was painstaking to the point of insanity, it paled in comparison to the tortures in which I endured under the care of the Vectorians. It was nothing in contrast to the pain of drawing a single breath, or taking a single limped step.
The greatest benefit lies within the helm. Though my eye sockets now lie empty of any organs which would provide me sight, I find that the helm grants me vision of better nature than I had before the Vectorian interregator took a corkscrew to my eyes. And because no healer has been able thusfar to repair my body, this seems my only recourse.
Tonight, Master uth Bannon leaves for a town called Westbridge. I have elected to remain behind in preference to solitude much to the visible dismay of my host. He has my best interests at heart, this I know. However I find myself in dire need of solitude after these hard months of past.

Master uth Bannon has warned me that removal of the armor may well result in the return of my original condition. I am shamed to write that my own fear prevents me from testing this theory. There is nothing I wouldn't do to prevent returning to the pitiful state in which I can thank the Vectorians for. I know not when I intend to return home...nor what kind of welcome I am to receive with my condition. For now I shall put such matters out of my mind as Master uth Bannon warns that negative stress my have adverse affects upon the magic of the Armor of Escalore as he calls it. And so it is, that even as I could surely write all day and night, I shall dry this last page and fall victim to the numb embrace of sleep.

--Nathaniel Stormweather