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Young adult human who helped build the Castle of Droboldable. Kept a journal that highlighted the downfall of it.

Entry 1: We have found the perfect location for our utopia. It's a flattened hill with particularly regular and predictable pulses of energy. My father has given the orders and we begin our work. I've got a knack for sensing the larger pulses, there's a kind of tingle in the air before one, so he has told me to be a lookout of sorts for the women and men digging. I'm not that worried about the pulses, I'm more worried about that flying, lightning thing that killed Eld. I'm gonna miss Eld.

Entry 2: The outer wall is almost finished, and work has begun on the foundation for the more permanent keep. We've worked out a decent warning system for diverting larger surges of energy, but unfortunately Big Seg got pretty seriously zapped. We'll have to keep working hard to find a way to protect us. Also good news! Word of our utopia is spreading, we got our first immigrant today! A well traveled halfling named Pock has found his way here, he said he heard about our fantastic vision from the town of Warmth. Even those snooty cultists couldn't scare him away. He's joined us in our fascination in the construction and harnessing of the hills.

Entry 3: When my father brought us here he said the Thunderhills were supposed to be our utopia. My father said we were bold and strong, and the gods favored us. We came here to harness the energy of the land but, with so many dead from accidents, we can barely continue. The flux of the energy in these hills has become unpredictable and almost devious. These unfinished stone structures now seem to attract the strange, natural beasts who feed off the raw energies. Safeguards we put into place no longer seem to be enough, people have been dying from accidents almost every other day. My father has prioritized the completion of the monastary so we have a respectful place to lay these hard workers to rest. It won't be fun, we have to dig extra deep to get past the surface pulses or else our fallen friends will be slowly shocked forever in their graves. At least Pock has been particularly helpful in coordinating the building efforts, he has somewhat taken over and helps guide everyone building. He has some clever ideas.

Entry 4: The women and men have killed my father, blaming him for all the deaths. Two days ago they knocked him out, brought him all the way down into the unfinished tombs and sealed him in one with his journal. I only just found out and I think no one will leave this place alive now, despite all the work we've done here. Despite all his help, I think the stranger halfling, Pock, might have been behind the violence. He seems mournful often enough, but his eyes never seem to match his mannerisms. I will make sure that those of us that are left will finish the tombs for rest of the dead in this holy place so they may peacefully rest after a such violent ends.

Entry 5: Pock is our savior! My father was so misguided and horribly egotistical, we're all glad he's gone. We've finished the monastary, it's glorious! Each death thus far has been properly entombed and respectfully put to rest. Pock has turned things around and we've made the best of a difficult situation. We are celebrating tonight in the finished tombs to honor those we lost. All their deaths are my father's fault, I see that now. Signed Foof Xizan

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