[A series of torn pages precedes this entry.]Â
Ferry. En route to Hidden Falls
A costly misadventure. Stumbled ashore the Gully eight days ago with Sir Fabuli and myself bedraggled messes - curses on the rain - ravaged some raptors, not very readily, I'm afraid - slipped on some wet rocks - well, my kin has never known grace - got unceremoniously entangled in a Gigantoad's tongue.Â
I must have been the stinkiest scribe alive - half-alive - Â when we hauled our sorry selves to Wineport, where an exasperating Etgar procured us some aid and lodging. Fellow only obliged because I managed to feign a talent for killing raptors with what spoils I'd kept from that. But mostly because I sang Byrglaent's praises with as many synonyms for 'excellent' as I could remember with a fevered, addled mind. These pages still reek of amphibian greed and guts. Â Â
And misshapen poetry. Attempted writing at full moon in the open on the fourth night with a costly bottle of wine for the romance of it; of course it quickened the fever all over again. Only produced bleak, sordid material good for Gigantoad feed. Twelve hells on Gigantoads.Â
Rent for my room at the Mizzenmast has been overdue by two days. And I have much to see to when I'm back.Â
This would not make a good tale.Â
Ferry. En route to Hidden Falls
A costly misadventure. Stumbled ashore the Gully eight days ago with Sir Fabuli and myself bedraggled messes - curses on the rain - ravaged some raptors, not very readily, I'm afraid - slipped on some wet rocks - well, my kin has never known grace - got unceremoniously entangled in a Gigantoad's tongue.Â
I must have been the stinkiest scribe alive - half-alive - Â when we hauled our sorry selves to Wineport, where an exasperating Etgar procured us some aid and lodging. Fellow only obliged because I managed to feign a talent for killing raptors with what spoils I'd kept from that. But mostly because I sang Byrglaent's praises with as many synonyms for 'excellent' as I could remember with a fevered, addled mind. These pages still reek of amphibian greed and guts. Â Â
And misshapen poetry. Attempted writing at full moon in the open on the fourth night with a costly bottle of wine for the romance of it; of course it quickened the fever all over again. Only produced bleak, sordid material good for Gigantoad feed. Twelve hells on Gigantoads.Â
Rent for my room at the Mizzenmast has been overdue by two days. And I have much to see to when I'm back.Â
This would not make a good tale.Â
[sub]Avis Inkwood | Qara Qalli
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