Ceou's "Empty" Journal, "Abandoning the plains"

I finally decided to write out a summary of fourteen years. I'll try to make it brief. Let me see. If you are reading this, then I've most likely given you permission. Otherwise, where this little tale is picking up from, won't make much sense.  Moving on. People always say the best way to learn something is by learning it from those who have mastered it. I think they are wrong. I think the best way to learn something, is to either pick it up quickly in a life or death situation, or die trying. That's how I learned to use a bow, and I've all but mastered it. I'm clearly not dead either. First time I fired it was a perfect shot into the heart of old Demelin, the bastard that killed mom. He was a captain in the military; his death would not be taken lightly by the townsfolk. I had to leave; and that is exactly what I did. I stole Demelin's horse, his bow, and a little food, and headed northwest. It didn't take long for me to realize how dangerous the world was out there. It was within a week of my journey, and I ended up riding through a mountain range. My horse was spooked by a small pack of goblins. Foul creatures, their faces twisted and blackened. They resembled something I stepped in at the stables. The horse felt the need to bolt at their sight, directly into them. They screamed at me in some tongue I’ve never heard before. At that very moment, I had wished I’d brought more than a bow and a handful of arrows to protect myself with. I charged past them on the old horse, but could still hear them tailing me. My archery was poor at this time. I couldn’t possibly hit anything behind me; I could hardly hit anything in front of me. I just stayed low on the horse, and is charged through a narrow tunnel through the mountains. For several hours, the horse ran. Clear through the mountain range. I had to let the horse rest at this point. This is when I learned trapping. I spent hours that evening, toying with trapping mechanics. I managed to make a noose from a salvaged section of rope, and made refuge in a small cave beyond the mountains. I set up the noose at the entrance, my fears of being cut into bits that night were strong, I had never seen creatures like that before in my life. It was early the next morning, and I heard my trap spring, a foul goblin caught by the ankles, and swinging around violently, still trying to cut me through with a twisted black blade. I heard his friends closing in behind him, and readied my bow, starting by killing the pathetic creature swinging at me. My shots were shaky, but I managed to put him down. I picked up his blade (it was sticky on the handle), and I left the cave, to face my three remaining attackers. One of them was mounted on a warg. My reaction was to get back in the cave. The goblin pack rode my heels until I made my way through the narrow opening in the cave. It was thin enough to prevent the warg rider from following. The events after are fuzzy. I know that they slipped into the cave, and I killed the remaining three goblins (the rider dismounted to attack me). However, after I killed them, I had to face the warg. I was knocked unconscious, I was given the claw marks that still brandish my face to this day, and the sword I was using was jammed into it’s head. It was at that moment, I truly realized how violent this world is. I looted those goblin’s corpses, took everything I could carry. I lost the horse. I spent years, wandering towns, taking what I wanted, selling what I looted, honing my skills as an archer, and a fighter. The world will never be fair, and that’s fine. I’ll always get what I need. People call me a bandit, and they are right. But it’s all I know.   My wrist is beginning to hurt. I'll tell about more recent events when I get around to it.