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Still we have not discovered a way home. I have foud a book that might help however. It was in a treasure room in catacombs beneath a filthy city. (I am not even sure where the hell I am, days blend together). Perhaps if I find a way I will leave. I must get home, I must help my fellow townsfolk, and I must rid my land of the infesting evil, with, or _without_ the help of the others. |
t is yet another night in this god-forsaken land. The darkness weighs on me, and I feel my grip on my senses failing. It seems that with each passing day the distance between me and my god grows greater. I pray to HIM as always, but it seems as if I am more alone than before, even surrounded by the compatriots I have found.
The Travel Logs of Lucius M. Volkskull
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There is a new one, one with steel in his face. I have seen many strange things since arriving here, _he_ is one of them. At least I am no longer the ugliest one here. LMV _________________ |
y mind buzzes. It is hard to think sometimes. The whiskey helps. It soothes me. I think the others are bothered by it, but _they_ don't understand.
