Dear Diary,
As I’m writing this, we’re all sitting in a tent-like structure that I’ve created magically. Which makes me proud, for it shows my growth as a wizard. But I should not revel in this, like a goblin doing bookkeeping, I managed to screw up again. At least by providing shelter for our group, I compensate for it a little. And have time to tell you how this all came to be.
This morning we awoke in terrible mood and circumstances. All night rain had come down in buckets and the field where we had camped had changed into a quagmire. As if Talos wanted to bless us for looting the underground greenhouse and the clothing shop in Ki! Not even the quality of my ‘Tinker's Trail Gear’ tent, nor my skills learned as Gnomish girl scouts of Nook, had prevented my shelter from partially collapsing. Once more my presumed skills were found lacking.
Not that I needed this to ruin my nightrest, my nightly companions were capable of doing that by themselves. The idol was humming in my head, insinuating that I should have taken care of the two gnomes instead of letting them go with my gold. Calling me a weakling for caring for Lilly, calling my hesitations wanted potential: “Why do you hesitate, little spark?” And then there were the books. The goblin one I still haven't dared to open, feeling its potency as I touch it, and even closed it sighs and hisses at me. My own spellbook, if I can claim ownership, opens itself, pages flipping swiftly, then stopping. At times when I doze off for a little, I dream the quill appears adding texts and spells to the book. When I try to find these pages back, the book does not allow me, skipping over sections or sticking pages together. Showing me new spells that I’m sure were not in there before, murmuring these in my ears when I close my eyes. Oh diary, I remember wishing I was a wizard, but at this moment...
Once outside my tent, I found that poor Finn and even poorer Jonathan had it worse, weatherwise, they were completely soaked and shivering. And on top of that, we were out of proviand, and halflings missing meals are no good company! The three cubs had clung together during the night and were reasonably alright, still also snappy for lack of food. Not to mention their smell! The only one happy not to say radiant was Gregot, who was literally sparkling joy, stepping into the puddles and plashes. Looking at the little treant, I could spot little roots sticking out of its feet like branches, sucking up water.
As the tradition prescribed, we started a discussion about our next plan. With a Finn that was even more strong headed and grumbling than normal. “Why are my plans always ignored? There’s a big treasure hidden here in the woods, just for the taking. How come you won’t join me in finding it?” “Well, because there’s probably a search party after us. The inhabitants of a certain town are looking for the ones who robbed a store and almost killed the owner. And that was all initiated by a certain rogue seeking treasures in places.”; I tried to argue with him. Only to become part of a blame game. “Oh, and wasn't I instructed to do so by a certain young lady pretending to lead our expedition? Gathering papers to expose a big scheme of fraud?”; he reposted, frustrating me by having at least half a point. “Well, however it all came to be, still, you want to trust the whisperings of these jackall-faced-humans above the arguments of your friends?” Luckily Jonathan was on my side this time, and lastly Finn gave in, gritting his teeth.
Consequently we headed out in the direction of Magki. And were bailed out by Gregot, who saved the day by its warmth and charms, dropping in on people with its one word conversations: “Good? Good!”, “Pain? Pain?”, “Gregot, Gregot!”. Topping it with his arcane powers, restoring health and energy as easily as counting the Elven helpers of a Dwarven miner, as my father would have said. Simply by touching you with one or two leaves, energy would flow into your body. Extremely pleasant and welcome and annoying at the same time, how could such a creature have such powers? And how could I properly and gracefully thank it, none of my lessons in etiquette had covered this type of creature and behavior. I know, I know, dear diary, apparently nearing a city makes the Velvet Viper (as a certain halfling would say) in me come to life.
After half a day of walking, and fortunately it stopped raining after a few miles, we spotted the outskirts of Magki when we left the forest. The view of the city and its river splitting it in two, streaming towards the sea, was a welcome sight, somehow we had made it to our first destination! Still, exhaustion hit us hard, as we had walked fast and furious, and without a proper meal. First priority was to find a place that served decent food!
Walking into the partly walled outskirts of the city, we found that this was a more diversified and sophisticated place than old Nook. Exponents of nearly all races known in the world (You’re right, dear diary, I’m exaggerating, but it was so good to be back in a true city!) were walking through its streets. And even our group blended in, even though Gregot and the Owl Bear cubs were looked upon every now and then. We did not pass any gate guard, nor did I spot any city militia or watchmen. Which was good, hopefully did this mean that this town was reasonably safe and that no one was looking out for us.
Searching for an inn, our fatigue and the circumstance that our sight was blocked by the lanky ladders, humans and other tall folks, that made the majority of Magki’s inhabitants, made us fail even this simple task. Finn’s attempt to query a halfling carrying a shovel led, to his surprise, to a rude, unfriendly conversation with the only result that there for sure was an inn nearby called the Otter’s mug. Any appeal for further directions or help were shooshed away. Walking back to us, Finn was gesturing and cursing under his breath. “Talking to that man is like talking to a wizard. At best you receive a riddle that turns out to be a curse in disguise, a serpent’s sparkle.” He ended his scolding with a spit on the ground, a kiss on his metal medaillon and a puff in my direction. Parried by a cynical smile from a certain gnome lady his way. This pesky halfling, dear diary!
Myself, I was on the look out for a more higher class member of Magki, preferably of the small folk type, to address. However, I spotted none, no gnome, dwarf or even human member of the Magki beau monde was to be found in the streets. By chance, a Gnomish market trader passed by, dragging a handcart. “Maps un poshuns!”; the urchin was shouting and written on the banner of the cart.”Dear sir”; I said to him; “How are you? You seem to sell maps and potions. Do you also buy these?”. “No, no, no, young lady, we’re only selling. Selling is our business. Are you in need of a map? Or a guide for that matter?” “Well sir, a map that could lead us to the Light Academic tower, that could help us. The Tower is our next intended station.””So so, well, for sure we can provide a map. Let me try to find one.” The gnome’s head disappeared behind the cover of the kart that he had opened. Next to me Jonathan was mumbling to himself, his hands and fingers drawing strange figures in the air in front of us. The head of the gnome reappeared and I tried to see what my friend the priest saw. To me the gnome still looked young, unfortunately not a very attractive specimen of our species. But no traces of deception, or none that I could see. If Jonathan was right, I should learn his skill of detecting this most urgently, dear diary!
“This is a nice and useful map of routes from Magki towards the Tower, lady, halfling sir. It will show you the paths there. Its base is a copper engraving printed a few years ago, recently updated and colored by hand. It’s yours for a mere two gold coins. And are you sure you don’t need a guide?. Hire me, and I’ll lead you all there.” The map he had in his hands was contained in a scroll tube which showed the symbol of a tower. “And how old are you?”; Jonathan asked the seller. “A low onehonderdandsixtysix.”; was the answer. Jonathan tapped my shoulder: “Inez, this man is lying about his age!” “Well, probably all men do?” I replied. “No, no, no, he is really really much older! He’s hiding something!”. And indeed did the face not fit the looks of the youngling. But I was too exhausted to investigate this fellow gnome.
“That’s quite the price, young man. And what would it cost if you were to guide us?” “Just a basic gold coin per day. And it will save you days!”; “And where would we find you if we would require such services?””Well, right here and now, young lady!”; evidently this man had an urgent need for adventure. “Oh excuses, I did not make myself entirely clear. First we need to rest and feed ourselves. We’re in need to find an inn called the Otter’s mug. Can you provide us with a map of the local area as well?” “A map of Bounndaville, for sure! Let’s see where that one is.” With that answer his head once more was hidden by the lifted top cover, but only for a very brief moment. “Here’s that one. It will show you the way to your inn and some other localities. I’ll make you a bargain: The two maps for two and half gold coins!” Even though this second map was just a rolled up parchment that had been through more tavern brawls than a drunken halfling, my weariness convinced me this was an offer not to refuse. “I’ll take them, thank you.” Handing over the money I received the maps and a farewell: “I’ll leave you, dear travelers. With these maps you’ll find your inn for sure, and the Tower with difficulties. Find me, and those difficulties will be mitigated. Till then!” Picking up the handle of the kart, he disappeared into the crowd.
Storing the tube in my jacket I rolled the other map open and started navigating. The group followed me, like Goblins after a shiny bauble. Judiciously I somehow managed to read the directions right and we found our way round some corners onto a square. At the end of it the inn was visible, its wooden top floor sticking out above the adjoining buildings. Its stone base looked old, older than the surroundings, made from rocks and boulders that must have been carried by giants. “There it is, just a few steps away from a meal and bed!”; I exuberantly cheered. But once more I was proven far too optimistic, dear diary.
Just a few steps away from the inn, we witnessed an old human man being pulled into an alley by two figures. A short deliberation by looking each other in the eyes later, Jonathan spurted into the pathway (‘We must support the weak’), followed by Finn (‘Got your back, you fool’) and me (‘How do I convince myself that this is the right thing?’). Some steps into the passageway we overtook the trio. The old man was leaning against one of the walls, with next to him a Duergar, her build and hair style suggested that she was female. Also her attire gave some hints in that direction, but was not something I would like to wear in public. Though it’s hard to tell with them, it would have helped if my good friend Thorga had been here.
In front of them was a tiefling, the best kind of trouble! As my mother would say: “Like a music box that might sing you a poem or might burn down your house.” Her outfit was gorgeous though, loved her long coat with tail slits, the gemstone inlaid rings on her horns (Don’t ask, dear diary.). Perhaps I should have taken more interest in the weaponry both of them carried, instead of their fashion state. Point taken, dear diary.
With that I decided to assist, safely behind the cover of the halflings. The tiefling held her ground, standing three steps away from Jonathan and Finn. Behind her the gray-skinned grump was holding the old human. I took my spell book in hand and concentrated. Though worn-out as I felt, the small illusion was easily cast; the snarls and howls of dogs could be heard, getting nearer with every bark! Still, the tiefling once more was unimpressed. Pointing at me, she shouted: “Back off, your pathetic magic tricks won’t fool us!” Infuriated, Finn roused his magic knife, its purple glow irradiating the alley: “And what will happen if we don’t back off, spiky?” “We owe you no explanation or nothing, brawler. Big Gustava, take this man away.”; the tiefling ordered the duergar to walk the man away from us. And confirmed my hunch.
The three of them started making small steps away from us, and we looked indecisively at one another. “Stop, or I’ll set the Owl Bears on you!”; was my feeble attempt, that only led to squawking behind me and the tiefling shaking her head. “Pussies”; she contemptuously hollered out at us. Which was the last drop in the alchemist’s flask! An angered Finn let his dagger fly out towards the tiefling, who hissed as she was hit. Still reacted without delay, throwing one of hers towards the rogue, lightly wounding him in return. Both Jonathan and I tried, like kobolds in a fireworks factory, to cast a manipulative spell at the tiefling and her accomplice, to no avail. To add salt to the wound, and wounding me regardless, Big Bertha charged in wielding a maul, swinging it around her head, sparks slivering where it hit the walls. Rushing into the halflings, pushing them aside (like halflings, I know, that's not fair of me, dear diary.). Coming after me like a vengeful Kobold, hitting my left shoulder hard! Only the narrowness of our battlefield saved me from instant oblivion.
With one opponent rushing into melee, the other had other plans.The tiefling made an acrobatic salto backwards, creating more distance between her and the brawl. Sitting on one knee, hands leaning on the ground, the foul stench of the bystreet brought me back to my senses. Opening my eyes I noticed the tiefling’s right hand making subtle gestures. Looking up at Finn, our eyes entangled for a second. “Of course he will take care of me”; my thought somehow found its way to him at that moment. (Now don’t become cynical, dear diary.) And a gulf of magical energy hit us a second later, with no harm done! Somehow we had warded off the tieflings' arcane attack, the effect no more than a warm glow on our skin. And like a shot the fight had started, so did it end. After seeing her spell leading to no effect, the tiefling ran away, prompting the duergar to follow. Leaving us with the old man in the now quiet back street. No onlookers or guards were interested in some small folks having a strong argument. Not even with a human involved. This was a very discrete city.
When visiting a town these days, I’m treated to brawls and clashes, fighting strangers and monsters. It used to be tea rooms and balls, fighting off gnomish suitors. Will have to take under consideration which of the two I actually prefer, dear diary.
After regaining my posture somewhat, I looked around. Pragmatic as ever, Finn was collecting the knives that had been thrown around, and I thought I even saw Jonathan following his example, picking up the maul the gray-skinned-grump called Berta had dropped. The cubs were skittering around, looking for food amongst the rubble in the edges of the alley. As expected, Gregot was the only one doing really helpful work, offering two of its leaves to Finn, that as he took and placed them on his arm, stopped the bleeding of his wounds. As a way of thanking, Jonathan sprankled the tree-creature with some water, to its palpable pleasure, its tiny stalks and twigs moving like it was dancing: “Gregot!” Clearly now in a cheerful mood, it walked over to me, planting a leaf on each of my feet. The instant the roots of the leaves pricked my skin, I could feel myself revivify, shaking off my pain. “Thank you, Gregot”; was my true but meager recognition. Still, I remain just a bit jealous about the power of this little plant and I don’t like to be touched without my advance consent. Especially in the case of halflings.
Meanwhile the creaky tall guy had seated himself against one wall, and looked at us bewildered, then asked Finn: “What plans are afoot? Balance, balance...” “What are you babbling about, old man, are you alright?”; the rogue responded, trying to help the man to his feet. Which is always a challenge, helping a long-leg up as a small folk. The two of them were now performing a strange dance, bouncing from one wall to another while trying to remain standing. “My stick, my stick.” Lying in front of my feet I spotted an old cane, picking it up and pressing it in the hand of the man just before they tumbled. That saved them from falling and gave Finn the opportunity to snitch his wallet. ‘A typical halfling handshake’ my father would have said.
Once in control of the stick, the man seemed to be in control of his movements too. Not of his babblings though: “This must be the end of all times...”What’s your name, old man?” Finn tried another time. “Oh, it’s, Kal, Kal with an ‘a’. What has happened who are you?” As my halfling friends and I tried to explain to him the fight and us rescuing him, he kept mixing lucid questions with illusionary remarks: “Who attacked me? We must search the mage, otherwise..” The instant that we stepped out of the alleyway and the inn came in sight, our new found friend’s mood sprung up: “We need a drink, I’ll buy you one!”.
Following the long steps of Kal, we reached the entrance of the Otter’s mug. He led us in a steep tempo through the crowded floor, using his cane to create a path. Pushing aside tall and small folk alike, as all kinds of races were visiting this establishment. Routing us to a free table somewhere in the middle of the tavern. Since it was a ‘tall table’, we had to climb the chairs around it, however this had the flip side that cubs and Gregot could be hidden under. Looking around the manifold and diversity of the clientele was something I had never seen, not even at the largest feasts in Nook.
And fur sure, I could also spot a few gnomes sitting or standing in one quarter or the other. Did not dare to look long, not wanting to take the risk of having to go into details about my ancestry and whereabouts. Sitting surrounded by a wall of small and mostly tall folks, I was more or less safe from spying eyes. Contrariwise, I could hardly catch a glimpse of the inn itself, just the higher parts. The wooden ceiling was just that, beam after beam, high enough to accommodate the likes of a goliath. Sure, fair point, dear diary, it’s not that I have ever seen one in real life. Despite the height, the temperature and scent in the hall made you wonder if a pack of hell hounds were hiding here.
Before I could put together a mental map of the place, my thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a waitress: “Welcome, dear visitors. You brought new friends Kal? The name is Axyss. What may I serve you?” “Axyss?”; I blurted out without thinking, looking up only to find that this was a whole different Axyss than the one in Ki. A robust female human specimen, as blond as the other one black haired was. Placing four large pints of ale on the table with an amicable curtsy. Followed by a lot less friendly: “Well little ones, since you’re new here, you two, no climbing on the bar and if you can’t reach the table, you can’t steal the food, or other stuff.” The last three words articulated and a finger pointed at Finn. “And you, there’ll be no riding the cats or the dog. They’re no ponies.” This one was for Jonathan, and missed the underlying menace. “As for you my lady, no accidental fires, this inn is not your workshop. And no other businesses either, the cathouse is around the corner.” Before I could recover or react from the insult, insults even, she continued: “Four ale then, Kal? And something to eat?” “Not food for me, thanks!”; the old man replied, outcried by two halflings ordering ale, meals and cheese. “And the lady?” “May I please have a decent meal for a decent lady, and I’ll have some ale as well, your wine is probably only fit for stripping rust off a troll’s armor.”; I requested icily. “Very well, I leave the little ones to you, Kal!”; the waitress grinned and vanished.
“There’s no harm in that, little lady.” ; Kal reassured me; “A lot of strange folks visit this place. We Boundas, have learned to bark a little at strangers first. That way we keep the good ones in Boundaville and make the others cross the river to Magki Center! And normally I bring friends, that’s safer too.” “Which friends? Would love to meet them!”; Jonathan joined. “Well, they’re a bit strange, but small folks as well! A tiefling and a dwarf-like type called Gustava, nice ladies.” “What do you say? We just redeemed you from these two, had to fight them in that alley!”; now Finn was in as well. “No, no, no, that can’t be true. They’re my friends!” “But we saw you being robbed.”; I added. (That was no lie, dear diary, hush!) “No, no, no, you must be wrong!”; but the ragged old man had lost his appetite; “Have to leave, will pay for the drinks, you pay for your food. It was nice meeting you.” And with no further courtesies left our table. Leaving two halflings and me for a quiet meal. Myself contemplating if we had just added another felony to our list by saving someone who does not want or need saving? Every place I visit I run off as a lawbreaker, dear diary! Start to wonder whether I’m a goblin instead of a gnome!
Our plates were cleared the moment we finished our last bite, by two young human boys, without saying a word. It felt almost like at home where our servants would also serve quietly. But these stiltwalkers rattled plates, dropped forks and cups like a gremlin in a box gone haywire! And they were followed up instantly by Axyss: “There's a gentleman named Carlach who likes to have a word with the three of you. Please follow me.” Her look shut down all our potential protests or questions, with a shrug we let ourselves glide off the chairs and walked after her.
Axyss did not need a cane to create a path through the crowd, people stepped out of the way as if pushed by an unseen servant (which perhaps was the case, I now realise, dear diary.). And nobody made remarks or asked questions as this strange procession, tailed by Gregot and the cubs, passed.
We ended in a quiet side room, oblong in shape, after passing a dark curtain. On the right far side a lonely man was sitting, eating a big slice of meat. A bottle of wine was standing on the table, a glass was in his right hand. Both bottle and glass looked expensive, of a kind I had not seen before in this inn. Expensive outfit, out of date, not a good fit. No weapon was on him, no guard in sight. Plopped down in this wall of cushions like a dragon who’s given up flying and taken to hoarding pastries instead of gold. “Thank you Axyss, and could you bring the lady and gentlemen a round of ale please?. And welcome to the three of you, have a seat!” Carlach’s polite formulated salutation was like a set of commands. Placing myself at a cushion next to him, reminding me of appeasing angry customers at my fathers office, followed by Jonathan. Finn remained standing, even when Axyss returned with three mugs of ale. He picked up one mug from the table, as did Jonathan and I. “I see the three of you pulling it off.” ; the fat human said, “If someone can do it, it’s you three.” The three of us looked at one another confused, then three pairs of eyes looked back at the man. “And there’s a reward, a serious reward. This contains one thousand gold coins.” Saying that, he placed a little green pouch at the table; “This could be yours.You’ve got to make a problem disappear...”
“Do we have to kill a dragon?”; was probably the worst question at the worst time only Jonathan could ask, and it worked. Roaring with laughter our host looked at us: “That could just be the case. And I could see you pull it off. Hah! The name is Carlach, as you’ve probably been told. No need for your names, we’ll see to that when, if, you make it back.” He paused, took a sip of his wine, shook his head. “The problem is, there's a hole. A big deep hole, at a spot just yesterday stood a shed. Noises were heard, guards went in, more noises were heard, no guards came out. And with that, how would I put this, as long as there's that hole, Magki’s council won't take over this quarter, and I won't be rewarded, and that's a problem in need of a solution.”
“And that's where you come in. Get into the hole, get rid of the hole, come back and collect this bag. Simple, no questions asked, no fine print.” His mouth and eyes closed, for a little while he fell still, contemplating or conspiring. My brain was racing, even split in three this amount would suffice for paying off the dress. Or a couch home or far away. “We’re your solution!”; I heard myself say, to the amazement and horror of the two halflings. “Good, bring me the contract !”; a snip of his fingers and a servant appeared, handing over a scroll. “Please sign here, lady.” At last, someone not addressing me with ‘little’, dear diary!
Scanning the text on the unrolled paper, I spotted no articles that were out of order or unjust. Ignoring Finn’s gestures I accepted the quill, dipped it in the ink, and placed an autograph. “Well, that's settled. Now these men will escort you to the entrance of the hole. Good luck!” “Right now? We were planning on a good night's rest and breakfast first!”; both halflings protested vehemently; “Inez, tell him we're exhausted!” But my attempt to convince Carlach was to no avail: “It’s right here: service starts immediately when mutual agreement is reached. Take them!” At his command, three guards, all human and appearing out of nowhere and all too capable, joined us, escorting us and our companions out through a backdoor. A proper exit, having failed once more as leader and negotiator.
Our prolonged procession took us through streets that became more empty with every corner. Again no questions were asked, until we reached another group of three guards. And behind them: The hole. A maw shaped dark emptiness in the ground, surrounded by the remains of a stone building. “That looks like the entrance to the smuggler tunnels near the riverside of Nook.”; popped into my mind. Finn had connected our minds again, without advance consent (Why would you ask permission, dear diary), and very smart and useful at this point (And point taken, dear diary!). “It resembles the entrance of my grand-aunts home, just outside town. My grand-uncle never finished the entrance.She used to make the best pies that we would sell on market-days..” Clearly Jonathan had entered the inter-mind-counsel too.
The three guards were wearing the same surcote on top of their rag tag clothes and armor. Just as they were carrying various weapons that looked ready to be used. “Are these the three?”; the tallest one asked. “Yes sarge, here's the paperwork.”; the scroll, signed by a certain gnome lady, was handed over. The tall one started reading: “So you are the hirelings? And these are your names?” Though his pronouncement revealed that his reading skills were not that good, it also revealed that I had not checked the names on the contract. “Let me see that!”; I almost cried and to my surprise, the paper was handed over. “Distract them!”; I ‘thought’ to Finn and Jonathan, somehow successfully. “Hi guys, you must be pretty bored, standing here all day. Want to see a nice trick?”; Finn took out one of the strange pebbles he kept and used for practice shooting. Expecting me to acknowledge every hit with a rewarding sigh or praise, boring to look at as it was. But luck was once more on our side, as the guards gathered around him, leaving me unattended and unwatched.
While the rogue was demonstrating his skills at shooting at floating pebbles with his sling, I held up the contract with both hands, clearly showing that I was just reading. All the time using the magic quill to change the names on the contract into ours. As the men grew tired of throwing rocks at rocks (Need I say more, dear diary?), I handed over the paper, rolled back into its tube to the sergeant: “That’s right, that’s us.” Leaving him and poor Jonathan glassy eyed behind. “So men, what happened here?”; Finn inquired, as he was now part of the gang. “Let me tell you!; the sergeant started rambling; “Yesterday night, a terrible crash was heard, people gathered and found this shed in ruins, and this crater in its midst. A sinkhole, they said, until the most terrible howling could be heard coming from below. So, three of my men were sent in.” “If it just had been men..”; one of the guards interrupted him. “Caca was one of them. She’s brave and a better fighter than most of us. She wanted to go herself. But I should have never let her do so...”; the sergeant’s voice now broke.
“We will find her!”; Jonathan announced; “Sure we will!” A bold statement, and the priests yearning for adventure and good deeds was still strong, despite his and our exhaustion. “But perhaps we should go tomorrow, have some rest first?”; Finn tried. “Sorry, orders are orders. And time is of the essence here!”. The sergeant turned out to be a sergeant; “Now move! Give them some torches, they’ll need them!” And into the hole we went, the silent procession continued. Step by step we descended the slope into the cave, into the darkness. Feeling very, very tired and very,very guilty because I was to blame for not reading the conditions properly.
When we had made enough distance and the shallow curve concealed us from the guards, we halted. “I’m very sorry, and you’re right to blame me. Before you do, please allow me to try this.”; I pleaded, kneeling down and grabbing my spell book once more. “This one I have not cast before.” Concentrating, worn down both physically and magically, I breathed in deep. Then I felt the arcane energies from the book and myself aligning. It was working, around us a bulge of force was growing. Encircling our group, then stabilizing and fixating it, releasing it the moment it was stable. “This should keep us protected for the night. But no guarantees!”; I announced to the baffled halfling men. Hopefully hiding to them that I was perhaps even more astounded as they were.
And so we’re here, in this magical hut, hopefully allowed some rest. Sitting here, writing this down with the cubs around me. Gregot is standing in the middle, looking like his roots are capturing arcane strength from the spell. Finn and Jonathan have seated themselves on the far side, offering to me to pass over guard duty this night. Which is rather nice of them, dear diary!
And so another risky task is to be completed. My dream of visiting Magki and becoming a wizard has taken a strange twist. Not to mention my failure at negotiating and making deals, am I truly a solicitor's daughter, dear diary, to miss the fine print in a contract? That would have made my dad probably more angry than my pursuit of magic and adventure! Not to mention spending nights with halfling boys without chaperone. No diary, I don’t think Gregot nor the cubs will be acceptable in that role for my parents. Nice try though!
Hopefully talk to you soon!
No comments:
Post a Comment