Yesterday, in accordance with the promise that I made to my father, I set out to explore the Trollmire to the northeast of Derth. I had only the meager weapons and armor that I had inherited from him when he died, but I was confident in my ability to survive. Sure enough, the wild things that dwelt there in the heavily forested swamp held no horror for me; neither ravening wolves, nor fierce trolls, nor stinging bees deterred me in my mission. As I traveled, I came upon many wondrous items, which I picked up for my own use, or to resell when I returned to town.

I also came across many pieces of correspondence left behind by those who had come before. Some of these were letters filled with boasting between two people, one named Weisman and the other Rolf, but several tattered scraps of paper that I found led me to believe that I was in more danger in this place than the challenges that I had faced to date would indicate. The final piece that I found to this puzzle was stained with blood, presumably that of the author. I felt a momentary chill when, as I finished reading, I heard loud crashing in the underbrush.

I pulled the magical sword that I had found just a few scant hours before clear of it's sheath just in time to see a monstrous troll, easily twice the size of any of his brethren that I had encountered earlier, come crashing past the tree line. "Prox hungry," it howled as it descended on me like a boulder rolling down the side of a mountain. I braced myself for the impact of his assault behind my shield, and felt my arm jar as the troll, heedless of it's own health, hammered my shield with one ham-sized fist, then the other.

I fell back, taking occasional pokes at it with my blade as I sought a more advantageous position. I was too exposed in this glade; other enemies could approach from any side while I battled this brute, and I knew that I would have my hands full as it was. Thankfully, Prox appeared to be as stupid as most of his kind and followed me into a narrow path where the trees pressed close on all sides, allowing me to focus only on our battle. The infusions that my mother had given me before I set out on my journey are all that saved me from falling beneath his mighty blows... that and my trusty shield.

Slowly but surely, however, the battle turned in my favor. Calling upon every trick my father had taught me as a youngling, I danced around the slower Prox, taking full advantage of my greater speed. I was only able to do a little damage to him whenever I dared to press an attack, thanks to the fact that his hide was nearly as hard as rock, but in the end, he succumbed to the repeated cuts of my blade and smashing blows of my shield. He collapsed in a bloody heap at my feet, nearly unrecognizable by the time he finally fell.

Searching the giant sack strapped to his belt, I discovered a number of valuable things. Even to the untrained eye such as mine, several of these things were potently magical, including a coral shield that I found nestled in among the refuse of the monster's last couple of meals. It pained me to say goodbye to my own trusty shield, which had seen me safe through so many dangers, but I knew from my experiences here that this was only the beginning, and that a magical shield such as that which I had just found would inevitably serve me better on the long road ahead.

Exhausted by my endeavor, I made camp for the night, determining to figure out my next course of action in the morning.