Entry 02 - Flint Journals

I ran away, I finally did it. I'm practically still a boy only 17 in age, only just entering adulthood and I am terrified. My father and all the propaganda against the Great Mutiny, as the papers call it, is just too much for me to handle. All my friends are joining up and I'm on a fishing trolley on the way to Kyra. My friends are being brave, loyal soldiers but I am just a coward. I will make it to the mainland, maybe settle in Turin, the city of creeps and forgotten ones. Maybe even make it to Skygarde, reinvent myself as an Eastern merchant, with a strange island accent because my mother was a third elf and a quarter gypsy. They'll buy that I'm sure. A deserter, maybe I'll move to the desert then I can just go by that term and no one will be the wiser.