Worn Parchment

On the ancient parchment, there are words written by a feeble hand — discolored with age and barely visible. "Every morning I wake up as a twenty year-old boy. It's the best morning of my life, for today is the first time I take over the post at the watchtower over the great Shield Road. Every morning I open my eyes and see the tower in ruins. Horrified, I grope my gray beard with my gnarled fingers and slowly realize that there is no Shield Road anymore, and it's been this way for more years than I can count. I must be older now than the decrepit Gaugen was when he died and left me alone. Unforgiving time has eroded both the stones of the tower and my flesh and mind. The holy statue of Torag is the only thing time itself dares not touch. I do remember that it's my duty to guard something hidden inside the statue, but I don't remember what exactly am I guarding. The key I wear hanging on my neck – the Langebukk's golden cog – is as heavy as an anvil. Where is the Woradash's white cog? I don't remember. What happened to the Skjegge's red cog, when its keeper, Gaugen, died? I don't know. Every morning I go around the neighborhood looking for people. I haven't seen any for years — neither traders nor bandits. Sometimes my mind tricks me and I recall speaking to a hunter or a scout just yesterday, but these memories are too vague to be true — I guess my feeble mind just entertains itself with illusions. I've been hoping for too long to see a day when dwarves return and restore the Road. Now I seriously doubt there is anyone of my kin left in this world, or anyone alive at all. Maybe some unimaginable plague has razed away every single living soul in the whole of Golarion, except for me? If someday someone returns to these parts, and manages to read this — remember our names. This tower was built by dwarves of the Woradash, Skjegge and Langebukk clans in 4241. It was abandoned in 4499. We, the Last Shields, were left behind to keep our eternal watch for the glory of Torag and the dwarven people. Our names were Gaugen Skjegge and Wark Langebukk. It was our free choice and we have no regrets. Remember us."