Owen Entry 4
There were many of our kind at first, people that had drawn from these power sources. The world forgot about these ancient powers and where they had come from; the powers had also forgotten that which would steer them.
Many artifacts exist in this world with great purpose and great power. These artifacts hold the memories of partners past and call out to new partners.
You may not yet know it, but you have one with you now. A shattered memory is trying desperately to piece itself back together. Scattered throughout this world are fragments of that memory; hidden away in places that no one even knows to look.
Whatever destiny the fates have for the III, I have need of them as well.
I’m just a memory now, and not a very efficient one. An ancient race of sage, neither living nor dead. Mimir; they called us…I think. I can recall times when I held information about the world’s most secret of places.
The Temple of Elemental Evil.
The Keep on the Borderlands.
The Tomb of Horrors.
All of these places were known to me and so many more as well.
I always had friends, people willing to share with me as I would share with them as well. That was all before I lost my name.
These terrible places and the encounters shared in them gave me some insights on life, and what place an adventurer holds in life. I don’t think I’ll ever quite manage to get all of myself back, but I’ve met the most odd fellow I’ve ever known…I think.
Watching the group this time makes me feel very strangely. I want desperately to call out to them; but I’m not really sure at this moment what would happen if I did. The fellow, Owen, assures me that he’ll help and keep me secret for a while. After witnessing what I have so far, I can’t help but feel a little hopeful.
It seems so selfish for me to think of myself. I hope only for the restoration of my memory and through the actions of the III, it may yet become a possibility. One day, I’ll return the favor. This place is helping, I can remember this world.
I think that I’ll stay with the group a little longer at least. They may never know, but I will watch over them as I can. Sending help as best I can without them even knowing. It is very exciting to come along with them all and I finally feel as though I may be restored to what I was meant to be. In all of this, I’ve remembered a name. My name? I don’t know but I love this feeling.
Owen promises me he’ll do whatever it takes to help me get my memory back; I’ve borrowed some of his but I doubt he’ll remember it. He doesn’t seem the type to miss memories all too much. After all, if you want to make an omelet, you’ve got to burn down a forest…or something.
I don’t know where the name fits, but for now I’ll use it. “Book” is an appropriate name, I suppose…but I’ll tell him from now on to call me Lumburr.