Day 1

Dear diary...
 
I have reached the township of Whitebrooke. It's quite a quaint little place, but I sense the true culture and energy may be overshadowed by the current militarization spread throughout it's borders. I've found a tavern to stay in, it's not much, but then, I don't think I'll be here long. I know my parents sent me here to spread goodwill and learn the ways of the people, but their instructions weren't crystal clear. I've decided to take my mission into my own hands.
 
I met three other journeyers, a barbarian, a soldier, and a bard. Together, we agreed to help a Terrhevkan couple find their lost son. I believe this will qualify as doing good unto the realm. We are likely to depart tomorrow, but to be honest, I have a far greater personal concern.
 
It appears my infernal lineage has made itself visible. A strange bookkeeper provided me with a tome on Phlegathos, in exchange for the chance to interrogate me on my family's business. Dreadful man. He knew about her, my birth mother. Millandreael. I do not know how, and frankly, I'm terrified to find out. But he knew, somehow, someway, and it appears his knowing broke my Tailoring. My Skin has shattered, revealing the infernal wretch beneath. My hair and eyes have turned white, my skin red, my horns are now physical and permanent. I am disparaged, diary. How can I face the world like this? How can I face my mother, my people? I can only disguise myself for brief spurts, and it takes a good deal of concentration to keep the ruse up.
 
Hopefully my adventures will keep me out of the public eye until I can find a more permanent fix.
 
Additionally unpleasant, I discovered my lineage traces back to a Fiend. A hellish Fiend, one that sacrificed people by burning them alive. Goody for me. Since that awful man spoke to me, I can practically feel fire running through my veins. My fingertips are almost glowing. I sense I am capable of great destruction, and I do not wish to find out it's extent if it can be avoided.
 
I'm going to try and finish this tome tonight. Sleep be damned, I need answers.
 
Goodnight, diary, and wish me luck.
 
-Mithiope