Hello random weirdo who picked up my journal, I am Ocea Twalk, daughter of Wenrey and Reynald Twalk. I was born on Ocktorg 3rd, 270 Tempest Age, yadda yadda. Guess this information would matter if I happen to somehow end up famous of whatever. Unlikely, but I suppose never impossible.
I figured I’d start a journal since I have more free time than normal, and unlike before where I could just plop my hindquarters down and read until dawn, the Navy’s catalog of actually good books is limited. Like, half of these things are military strategy novels, life advice and health routines. I am not going to be spending my free time reading about the optimal amount of push-ups needed for maximum muscle growth, or about the history of our flintlock pistols.
Oh, and before I forget—if I happen to be dead while in the Black Iron Navy when you’re reading this, I have to ask for you to do something for me. Go up to my room in the Silent Fortress, it’s on the third floor, the twenty-sixth Officer quarters. Next, go to my bed, it’s the one on the left. Now, crouch down and move the wooden planks until you find the loose one. Underneath that is a stash of books and stuff. I assume I have no way to stop you from reading them yourself, but please for the love of the gods, burn them once you’ve read whatever you want, and do not share a word of what you found.
We cool? Okay. I know you definitely did not do that. I guess I tried. Maybe nobody will find them anyways. Come to think of it, I shouldn’t have even written anything, without instruction, nobody would even find those books and scrolls. Well, I can’t exactly erase ink, so I’ll just… cross it out and hope nobody reads it.
I think you’ve inferred by now that I am a dork. Like a comically nerdy dork. What’s someone like me doing in the navy? Good question, I’ll write that some other time, I’m tired and tomorrow I have a physical that I didn’t prepare at all for. If I the rest of this journal is blank, then I had a heart attack while running and died. A pretty sad way to go, not to mention rather unlikely given I’m twenty-two years of age. There’s a first time for everything, though, and as a student of history, I can say with certainty that people have died in stupider ways.
