The diary, err JOURNAL of Amatria

[Saydist]

Dear Diary,

I know it's been like forever since I've written in you and I'm sooo sorry, but I felt it was important to begin again. Let me first start by updating you on what's gone on since I last updated. First of all, love life. Last time I wrote I was being courted by Daeren. That was all well and good until I walked in and caught him trying on his mother's corset. Can you believe it? After a brief confrontation I came to find out it was because he felt emasculated by my skills. I assured him he was well on his own way to becoming a rogue as the God's had already equipped him with a teeny tiny dagger. Oh what fun!

So anyway, I should also update that I am no longer at home, which is why I am writing this on scratch leaves of paper and not my proper bound diary which is tucked safely within my spare leather lace-ups. I have been thrust into a mission of sorts. Which would have been made more exciting if we hadn't already had to battle a werewolf and horde of undead. After all that I could really use a good soak in the mystic baths.

Undead, such stench! Werewolves, such trouble! And the stupid dog-boy scratched me too! Can you believe it? But that's okay, I drank a vial of serum we found at this castle and I feel much better so I think I'm cured.

So right, we... oh wait, I forgot to mention Geran and Arkroft came along too. Well, Arkroft got lost in the horde of undead but I'm sure we'll find him again. Umm, except that the place we lost him actually got burned down. But hey, we can't give up hope, right?

Where was I? Ah yes. We had this magic user join our team for a bit, but Geran and he got off on the wrong foot. Next thing I know we are supposed to be battling zombies and they are knocking each other off ladders and taking hits at each other. How immature those boys can be! One thing leads to another and Geran gets knocked out and the magic user gets killed.

A waste, really. Sure, Geran thought he was evil but I feel like there can be good in anybody! You just have to find it and feed it. Feed the good. Use your skills for good, your powers for good, your weapon for good!

Oh wow, now I feel bad for having told Daeren that he had a tiny dagger. That wasn't exactly good of me, now was it? But come on, it wasn't exactly the greatsword he was making it out to be! I should get some rest. I took a bit of damage with those savage decomposing ramblers and could use my beauty sleep.

Until later,
Tria

[Saydist]

Dear Diary,

So Geran and I met two new adventurers today. Sounds sweet, right? Wrong. You see, this is how it went down. Geran and I were exploring after everyone else in our party bailed or died (poor wizzie). It did stink in the tunnels we were in, but come on, I've smelled worse stench on Geran after a night of downing ales and barbaric tavern brawling. Animals.

But I digress. There we were, Geran and I. We come to this door, right? Geran wanted to just waltz right in but nope, I kept my ears open for any strange sounds. Sure enough, I heard someone, or something. I didn't want to just run in so I called out a friendly "hello!". No response, must be undead. So we retreated only to have the door come crashing down on us in an explosion! Next thing I know Geran shoots off an arrow and a blade comes out to his throat. Not just any blade. A dark blade!

Oh my dear dear diary, do you recall what that means? I might have mentioned in a loooong time ago. Needless to say, it's not good. Which means, the elf that wields it is not good! Evil!! But there was another elf with him, a female who swore he was good. I just can't fathom that. So I failed to mention that I had snuck up to Mr. Evil Elf and drew my blade to him. Noone blows a door up on me and then pulls a blade on my friends and gets away with it!

Ok so he got away with it, but only because a giant zombie crusher monster thing came and attacked us!! There was supposedly this plan (and if you could see me, Diary, you would see the ridiculous face I made when I wrote that sentence). Because this plan was ridiculous because it was supposed to allow me to sneak up to the giant zombie monstrosity and allow me to stick my blade into his undeserving rotting flesh, but that stupid evil elf (who swears he's not evil, but come on what Im about to tell you will prove he is!!!) blocked my attack by keeping the stupid rotting oaf in the doorway so I couldn't get behind him!The nerve!!!

I know what you're thinking. Only an evil elf would bladeblock another elf, right? I know! That's what I was saying! You know, Diary, sometimes it's like we're the saaaame elf.

[Saydist]

Dear Diary,

Let me just preface this by saying I feel I must have caught a chill. I had been feeling rather sniffly, although my fellow adventurers surely had not noticed. I kept it to myself. I'm really not one to complain about such discomforts. Why is it so important for me to bring this up? Well, you see, this is what happened.

We were travelling through the woods heading to the city in the sky where we would enter a competition (which we would so totally win) and the resulting gold and gems that would be bestowed upon us as the winners would go to restoring Cromwell to it's former glory! I wouldn't really need anything in return for my good deeds but a small thanks. But then I got to thinking it would be nice if perhaps they would erect a glorious stone statue in my exact likeness in the middle of town. There everyone would sit at the fountain staring up at the heroine of the city! And maybe they would name a tavern after Gerin, since that seems to be his favorite haunt.

I digress. I hate it when I do that. So here's what happened. We were on the way to the city in the sky, like I said. We see these tracks leading off in another direction. I kind of thought to say "hey, maybe we should see where they lead" but I didn't because I saw this tree and it was kind of shaped like me and it lead me to think again about the statue of me that would surely be erected in the middle of town in my likeness! So we continued forth. Night fell. We camped. I took second watch. There was another tree that reminded me again of my sleek figure so I decided I would climb it.

While up in said tree I hear incoming three large creatures. Orcs! They descended quickly upon the camp and as this occurred we found that we could talk to each other through the sword that Tristan is carrying. Ok, so the evil sword worked for good this time. There may be hope for it after all. So I tell the others through the sword where the orcs are and how many there are. Then I decide it would be a most advantageous maneuver for me to remain in my spot and thrust myself downward when the orcs are least expecting me. And then I will cut them down, thus saving my fellow adventurers and perhaps they will erect a teeeeny tiny statue in the middle of the campsite in my likeness! Brilliant.

And now you will come to understand why I felt it necessary to preface this by stating the poor condition I was in. As I crept to the edge of the limb, crouched and ready to pounce, I sneezed! Oh Diary, it was horrible! Wretched! I...fell. As I fell I wildly flailed my arms, my rapier cutting deep through the air. Unfortunately the air was all that it cut through. Not a single scratch, a poke, a pinch. In fact, the ogres thought me so little a threat in my clumsiness that they ignored me all together.

Needless to say the others will not be erecting a statue in that particular campsite.

After the fight (which won us only a few large feathers and a few large keys) we made our way back to the trail and onwards to the city in the sky, which turned out to be reaaally reallly far up!! So far up that we couldn't reach it. We had to turn back.

Where turning back typically means not much other than a slight annoyance and some time lost, it now means also the threat of our new friend Tristan being taken over by this amulet of certain doom, death, and destruction that he has taken it upon himself to carry. Nice guy he's turning out to be. I sure didn't want to have to carry that thing. Besides, it's red. It would totally clash with my natural purple highlights.

We doubled back and decided to take the path that we saw the ogre track the day before. It led us to a large door. Inside was a poor giant eagle locked up in a cage. The keys fit! Geran had a moment of discomfort when the eagle noticed the gaudy headdress he had constructed out of his feathers. Awkwaaaard.

So here we are, making a deal with an eagle to get to the city in the sky. He flies us up, we set him free. Win-win. And on another note, my chill seems to have disappeared. No more sneezing. It's a miracle, really!

Until next time,
Tria