Journal of Ghrash
Excerpts Transcribed by Relicmaster Glenadir
I've accepted that this helm may never come off. Tusk it all, but if that isn't the truth. It's proven to be just as indestructible as the dungheap who sold it to me said it was. Tried all manner of blacksmiths, and not one could do a damn thing.
Saw another mage today. Like all the others, she seemed interested. Hemmed and hawed, read some of her books. Tried all manner of spells. Nothing happened, of course. She recommended a friend, but I've long since learned to get my hopes up.
This tusking itch won't go away. Tried everything. Must have dunked my head in ice water a thousand times this morning alone. Just my luck that inn bed would be covered in lice.
This is my last entry. Every time I write and see just how useless everything is, I just—There's no hope for me now. How am I gonna live like this? Who'll want to start a family with someone with a helm stuck to their head? Think I'll join an army or some such. The lower the odds, the better. I'd rather die in battle then live one more day like this.