Inspired by the works of CrazyBernie and King_ov_Death I decided to give it a go myself. So without further ado a (loosely based) Book II tale:
Memories Lost and Treasures Gained - The Tale of Seb Shadowheart
Chapter 1 - Remember To Forget
It began like any other morning, with a pounding headache. Seb Shadowheart rolled over onto his side, rubbed his head, and let out a groan. He felt around blindly for his pillow but it was nowhere to be found. The groggy man reluctantly opened his eyes...
"By the gods!" he half-heartedly exclaimed as he was temporarily blinded by rays of morning light streaming in through his window. Blindly he fumbled around with his outstretched hand on top of his nearby dresser until his fingertips brushed against the side of a bottle. Seb nearly tipped the bottle over but caught it before it fell. He put the mouth of the bottle to his lips and tipped it back... Nothing, it was empty. The man sighed loudly then stretched his arm out and let the bottle fall to the floor with a thud.
"The gods they laugh at me," he said out loud. "The sun in my eyes, the last of my whiskey gone, and that bird, that blasted bird! Listen to him chirping away out there, mocking me."
After lying in bed for several more minutes the man begrudgingly sat up then got out of bed. He noticed his pillow lying on the floor next to his foot. Rather than bending down for it Seb slid the tip of his foot under the pillow then quickly flipped it up in the air. The pillow landed damn near exactly where it belonged on the bed. "Well at least I haven't lost EVERY one of my skills." He laughed, "Not a particularly useful skill though."
The man looked around his room. He spied a pair of chests in the corner of his room. One of the chests was locked and instinct compelled him to pick the lock. After searching the room for a minute Seb angrily kicked the chest. "Nothing but broken lock picks. I can't even pick the lock on my own darned chest." He sighed, "Not that I any longer even have the skill. A couple of years ago I would have easily picked this with my fingernail."
Resigned to his fate the man walked over to his dresser and opened the top drawer. He took out a couple of shirts and pairs of breeches and gave each of them a whiff. He then proceeded to don the least rancid smelling ones. Also inside the drawer was the key to the chest. Seb begrudgingly took the key then used it to open the chest. Inside he found a dagger and several coins. "So much for my life savings."
Seb stumbled outside through his back door and made his way over to his well. That annoying little bird was still out there somewhere, mocking him with his chirping, and he brought friends. On the other hand the smell of pine needles and the cool autumn breeze invigorated his senses. After pulling up the bucket the man took a couple of big sips of cool refreshing water then proceeded to dump the rest of the water on his face. If nothing else the cool water clashing against his face caused Seb to be released from the clutches of his hangover... at least temporarily. The man shook the excess water off his head much like a dog would then used his fingers to comb his long hair back behind his ears.
Walking back into his cottage, he made his way through his bedroom and into his kitchen. Unfortunately the cupboard was bare save for a lone apple. Seb sat down at his kitchen table and sighed. His eyes drifted toward the center of the table where his old journal sat.
Without so much as opening the cover his mind drifted back to memories of his days in Theramore. Most of it was a hazy fog these days, his continued heavy drinking had muddied the visions. It was probably better that way. So much killing, the gruesome battlefields, the goblins, the Taurax. These are things he really would rather not relive. Even after recovering that infernal Crux Seb only had a short while to enjoy the spoils of his victory. After that came more chaos, war, towns burned to the ground, whole settlements slaughtered man, woman, and child. Still he missed Theramore. Before the whole place went to hell there were good times to be had. The rolling hills, the balmy warm summer breeze, waylaying travelers in Tangletree Forest and robbing them blind, and the taven wenches, oh the tavern wenches. Sure they had tavern wenches in Mistfell, but not like in his homeland.
"For all I know that whole place is a smoking crater now." Seb said out loud and stood up shaking his consciousness away from the past. He made up his mind to head into town for supplies for this lone apple was surely not going to feed him for very long. Besides he was all out of whiskey.
Seb opened his front door and ... nearly fell flat on his face as he tripped over something on the ground. "#$@% $@$#!!!" the man exclaimed as he caught his balance then turned to glance at the parcel on the ground. Angrily he snatched the parcel off the ground and undid the bit of twine that was holding the cloth wrapping closed. Inside was a letter tied to a good sized rock. "What kind of a jackass ties a rock to a letter, wraps it in cloth, then places it directly in front of your door?" he thought to himself. After detaching the letter Seb threw the rock into the woods nearby then opened the letter and began skimming it over. "Yada yada yada ... I need to meet you ... yada yada ... Wayfarer's Jolly ... yada yada ... Eastwillow ... yada yada... Darus." He sighed, "Well I'm going to Eastwillow anyway." The lack of enthusiasm was quite abundant in his tone.