The past few days have been incredible. My people eschew writing as a medium for recording history. Our history is recorded in the writings of the Statics. In every age our secret histories interweave with theirs like the threads of a great tapestry. What is known only to us is passed on orally, as stories. So, it is with a grim determination that I set out to chronicle my journeys. Perhaps I am in some way defective, but I feel that I have undertaken something worth writing about, possibly for the first time in the history of my race.
Over the years I have been given many names by the people of many lands. Currently I possess the designation "Grey". The Wizard Grey, if I'm in a self-aggrandizing mood. My travelling companion appears to be a young girl, but is in reality my familiar. In her current incarnation (for she prefers to be female, even as I most often prefer to be male) she is known as Thoth. In my youth I was most often called "ghost", or simply "#$&@!" by the merchants of the marketplace in… in… I can no longer remember. I was born… in… I was born. Of that I am sure.
I am certain that I was born, and I am equally certain that recently I began to dream. It was this dreaming that pulled me to the clearing as a lodestone will draw iron filings when drawn across the workbench of a smithy. I was not alone. Upon arriving it became eminently clear that something larger than myself was at work here. Larger, perhaps, but not grander.
It all seems so long ago now. My memories of my past are misty. Perhaps they are so for all members of my race, as I have never met another. I know them only through the stories of the bards. I don't know how I know them, when I hear them, but I do. There is something in me that recognizes them… and responds.
As such I have decided to keep this log. Hopefully it can provide me with the memories that so often escape me. How long will I keep such a journal? How long can I stay on this path? How long will I continue to draw breath? These are all questions which have never troubled any child of the Static races. I envy them. Even as I pity them.