Brangar's Journal

<The journal is bound in worn, cracked leather. Most of its contents chronicle the mundane routines of a hardworking dwarven farmer?weather reports, planting cycles, notes about livestock. Yet, toward the final pages, the handwriting begins to shake, the lines become erratic? the words darker.>

She tells me to stay here, yes. She tells me to stay.

Magistrate... they want to take her from me.

I won't leave, no. I will keep her safe. Yes.

I hear voices. Oh, I hear them.

They tell me to stay.

I must.

I will.

What is it? You found it at Brangar's old farmstead?

<Historian Sternhand reads the journal in silence, flipping the final pages with furrowed brows. He exhales slowly, then closes the book with a firm thump.>

Hmm. I suspected something went wrong out there... but not this.

Brangar was once a proud dwarf. A good farmer. It's a tragedy what happened?whatever did happen.

<He gives you a long look.>

For the sake of his legacy, I'll... omit these final entries from the official records. Some things are best left forgotten.

Thank you for bringing this to me, <race>. You've done a service to our history, even if it's a grim one.