An acquaintance I've been traveling with for a few weeks now gave me this blank book and told me I should write a journal. ranting about how my life stories are interesting enough that I should write them down should I ever have posterity or should it ever just fall into another storytellers hands "it is a good thing to pass this kind of knowledge on" he said. I suppose I have to give him some credit the man is at least old enough to be my grandfather. Besides the rain is going to delay the companies travel today anyway, so I don't have anything better to do.

I suppose it's fair I should start with an introduction.

My name is Col Thor, I'm a ranger, and a Northman, Sometimes known as the Shadow of Neverwood, as well as a few other titles-some come from deeds-others not so gloriously given.

I was raised in the woods of my homeland in the north the first 7 years of my life by my mother and then, when she died, by a man called Bjorn till I was 12. My mother was killed by a lightning strike, and from that day forward I had the absolute worst of luck as if it was a joke from the gods. Col the unlucky they called me whenever Bjorn and I came into town, hmm certainly better than Col the bastard what old Segard one eye used to shout every time he saw me, and probably still would if I hadn't put an ax in his face for insulting my mother too many times. I realize he was right though, nobody know who my father was my mother never spoke of him apart from the fact that she missed him and his "golden hair and blue eyes like lightning". Funny how it was lightning that eventually killed her.
When you turn 12 as a Northman you are officially a man. You're given
an arm ring and you can make your own decisions now. Shortly after the ceremony for all the boys who would become of age that year. old Bjorn came to me and said "I looked after you as long as your mother wanted me to. Now it's time you look after yourself I've taught to you all that I will." Just seems like he wanted to be rid of me. The Old bastard. all was well though until every time I try to build a house or shelter of any kind it would get blown over rain through torn apart or burn down what's the time it wasn't even my fault? How was a 12 year old boy supposed to stop bear from tearing apart a shelter? every time I tried to stay with someone, paying every last coin I had, and doing everything I could to earn a place to sleep, I was eventually banished because of all the bad luck I brought, and killing One eye. it's not like the whole town didn't want him dead anyway.

After I left though, my luck seem to turn. Things stopped burning down and getting torn apart. 6 months later, far South of my homeland. I had heard in a tavern that you could get work as a mercenary they didn't care about your age or anything just as long as you could swing a sword or an axe. so I stole a woodcutters hand-axe that was in the woods trying to practice. the man at the end said that if I could meet with them in the woods that they would consider taking me on. Our job was to clear out some goblin bandits that had been giving travelers trouble on the highway along the Sword Coast, and had been responsible for several killings. We found them and I was devastated. Severed heads displayed on spikes throughout the camp. Not just men, but woman, and children too, They had defiled and maimed countless animals, All of them slaughtered. We caught them by surprise and we slaughtered them not leaving one head upon its shoulders. When given my chance I put that axe into the leaders head so many times! when someone cought the axe as I was on the back swing. Bjorn had found me. He stared down at me with a face I will never forget almost sheer disbelief and horror, at this young boy filled with terror and rage and knee deep in the blood of goblins. it was then that I've learned that Bjorn was a ranger he asked if I wanted to learn the life, and I said yes. That's how I started on the path to being a ranger.

Well the rain has stopped pouring, so I'm going to stop writing, maybe I'll do this again