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Words In This Update - 2131
Total Words So Far - 6211
Today is a beautiful day full of new opportunities and---
---LOCK ROCKS, ELF IS SELFISH. LOCK CAN RHYME BETTER THAN YOU! WHY YES LOCK IS PRETTY GREAT THANKS FOR ASKING! SEE YOU, LOSER!
---Dear diary, seems my fantastic bonds that I have applied to my captive pet were not good enough. I awoke again after I had woke up the first time, and I assure you I was not pleased! There was a lump on my head and, for some reason, that hawk came back and nested on my head, thinking the lump an egg it had to hatch. By the gods, if I weren't so beautiful and smart, I'd think my life a divine joke.
When I originally got up, it was just past dawn and I heard a roaring and a grumbling not unlike what a ravenous wolf or dragon would make. I had thought it just my hungry stomach, but my complacency got the best of me. It really was a dragon. Lock got out and I found a bit of my hair tangled on The Marshal's butt. Now, before you paint me as some kind of historical harlot, future scholars, let me assure you entirely I am not that kind of floozy. I could never cheat on my beloved tool belt, nor could I tear The Marshal away from his one true love; killing things dead. It was a love not meant to be. So no, it's quite unlike that. You're rude for even thinking it! For actual porn, pay patronage to your nearest brothel or visit your local library.
When I awoke for the cameo appearance, it was lunch hour and my contents of my gut, just mere lemonade, were no longer on the inside of me and all down my front. My head was cracking and I had dreamed that Lock had escaped her confines and beat me to secure her freedom, mocking me in my own journal. Except for the part where that actually happened. You'd think I'd dream of something normal for once, like flying with my ears. It's a common dream for elves to have! Just like I know it's a documented factual fact that dwarves dream of winning wrestling competitions only using their beards. If that were true, I'd almost be jealous of that. Almost. The only thing stopping me would be the fact I'd never be able to pick all the bugs out of that rug.
I knew the elders would be pissing their britches if they found out I failed keeping Lock locked up so I set out to right that wrong and make sure they'd never find out in a billion years. Then again, I'm pretty sure they're that old already. I bet they're pissing their pants just in excitement about finding some exciting new denture bonding paste in the market. Figures. I grabbed my grocery list and got my quaint rag out, polishing the part where The Marshal got hit. At least my money was still on me. I knew those dragons were too dumb to do anything right, even petty assault and robbery.
I slung my gun around on my back and made way towards the first stall, settling in and peeking my head into their tent and eying their shelves. A man with a truly amazing twirly mustache stood before me, adjusting his tie and wiggling his nose, making hrmphing noises in an attempt to appear professional on some level. I don't get merchants. That suit he's wearing has got to be stifling him badly. Still, I see he has a nice variety of nails and whatnot, clean and sturdy ones, so I prop a few bags on the counter.
“I say, ma'am, are you looking for a good screw? Welcome to Jonesy's, you've come to to the right shed!” he asks me, entirely oblivious as to how ridiculous and not family friendly he sounds. “I got a discount on nails and hammers, too! Wouldn't you like a good nailing?”
I'm pretty sure my glaring at him like he'd just killed my own mother got my point across. He adjusted his tie and hrmphed again, the monocle on his left eye popping out a bit. “Oh, my apologies! I forget how silly and bad that sounds at times! I assure you, no harm, no foul here! I really did just mean bits for your hands to tool around with! Wait, am I doing it again?”
Poor guy. Probably hasn't gotten laid since before that mustache of his started growing. I pity any woman or man that winds up in his bedside; he'd probably think they were in need of being reupholstered or some such nonsense. I picked up a ducat out of my bag and slapped it on the table with a loud thud, saying he'd take it and only it for the nails, throwing in a pack of screws and a driver for half that as discount for listening to his dumbassery. “But I've a monocle to polish! You're tearing me apart!” he screams as I leave, just grinning that I got everything for about a third of market price. Word to the wise, if you're going to own a store, don't sell innuendo. That's not even worth the breath used to say it.
I shield my eyes and make some more rounds, hood up to cover my head lest any more birds decide I'm there to be nurtured and hatched, and make my way to a nearby palm tree. There's a demonic woman here, dressed in garb that would blind even a shaman tripping their headdress on peyote, snapping gum at me and picking her nose with her spaded tail with gay abandon. She also has a bunch of fruit for sale though, so I'm going to reluctantly ask her how much her melons are.
“Twenty ducats for them both juiced up against your greasy little elf tits.” she snorts at me. I was right, I was regretting this. Of all my luck, running into a hooker that sells fruit and who may be a bit of a fruit herself. Was everyone at this bazaar drunk or high or both? What an era we live in, ladies and gentlemen. When I assured her I wasn't into that, and that she was just a tart selling tarts, and to give me the price of the real melons, she just stared at me.
Really, I don't need to get laid! Send these weirdos out to someone else, gods. I don't know what my quest's obsession with this topic is and quite frankly it's disturbing. I changed the subject and asked her if she'd seen any dragon chicks nearby.
“Tequila Morning.” she replies. I ask her what in the name of Our Lady Laeshann she means. Is that some kind of drink? Do I need to pay her in booze? “No, it's my name, short-ass. At least address me properly.” Fine, Rum Afternoon, or whatever, you seen any dragons? I'd almost be willing to part with the high ducat price to rid of her and her passive, booger flinging ass at this point. “Sure did, she was just my most recent customer! She should be around here sleeping in a sunspot to recharge herself after what I did to---” La la la, not listening! You can't make me hear it! “---hadn't pegged you for the type to be into lizards instead of succubi, anyways. Kinky little rude bitch, ain't ya?” Gods. End me here. Please. I throw a few coin at her and snort off, walking to the edge of the tents and rustling behind a bush. “Recommend me to all your friends, you perverted little cloaca munching elf butt!” the hooker calls after me, waking my friend Cock Locker up. Fuck you, and not in the way you want, Brandy Half-Past-Midnight.
“Oh, what's this, did you pay for a good rumble in the bush yourself? Hadn't pegged you for---” not this again. Cutting it off here. Sorry, future generations, it's gross here. I fully expect jokes about our hygiene to be the norm in your time, and let me be the first to say they're very well deserved. Her breath reeks of both flesh and cheap booze, a page of my diary ripped out and in her hand as she yawns and puts an arm around me, pulling my head into her leathery chest. Danger, danger! Abort, abort! My ears flick hard in self defense but alas, they just won't cut into her and end her as I am wishing quite hard that they would. What does she want, I ask her, infuriated, demanding she give me my page back. We're so mature here today.
“No no, Lock finds you quite interesting, little elf! You want to build a plane all by your own without the aide of magic? It's not possible yet, little girl, so give up! You'll never be able to reach out there the way Lock and her friends can, and you'll not get this 'delicious revenge' you are so eager to suck off. Ahh, to be this naïve. Your kind really is stupid and violent, aren't they?” What a dumb, cocky bitch. I don't even know why I'm recording her foul mouth in full anymore except to prove my side of the argument here is the only right one. “Lock sees you writing in it so lovingly every day, so Lock just decided to sneak a peek in and see why you're so close to fucking it! Now maybe Lock sees why; because you are a fool!”
I just pull out The Marshal, reminding her that's what put a hole in both her wings, disabling her and grounding her for now, and why she got locked up in the first place. She'd be wise to listen to him, lest I mar his good looks with her blood and anger him. She just slithers her gross tail around and plugs up my muzzle with it, grinning a toothy grin, each fang more yellow and mangled than the last. “Yer's a feisty one, ain'tcha, elf? Lock almost sort of likes you! It takes balls to want to point that thing at an enemy twice your size, right in their face. Even if Lock cannot fly right now, Lock could still take her claws to you and have a nifty elven-skin handbag, stripped of your flesh before anyone could hear you scream.”
Gross. How unhygienic her threats were bothered me. I just shuddered and held my position, eyes narrowing. By the Embers, I'd say I'd even looked a bit cool and heroic, standing my guard against the evil princess-snatching beast of lore. “Wow, you are an idiot to not run at that. Why, back in my day, you elves behaved yourselves and---”
I just yanked my gun free and blew the tip of her tail off. Fuck listening to that egotistical rambling any longer, I just barged in while she was still in shock at me attacking her, capping her nose and skull back with The Marshal's butt, returning the favor she gave me. Knocked out cold. I dragged her by her wounded tail back to her wagon and hoisted her up, re-doubling my rope bonds against her and rushing back to buy some heavy chains I had intended to use for my engine. Seems I'd have to unfortunately spare one to keep her in place. Goodbye, wasted ducats. My dream will have to be put on hold another short while longer as I scrounge up more coin and more chain. If I really were the kind the women had pegged me for, I think I'd might make a decent living as a dominatrix, what with how I am speaking and all!
You know what I could really go for? A tall glass of juice and some of the bazaar’s famous snake kebabs. I think I'll go back in and get some before finishing shopping. I had only hoped for this to be a one entry deal, but Lock kind of cockblocked me out of it. I hope you, dearest diary, and anyone in the future reading this accept my humblest apologies for my delay on making the grandest dream a woman ever had come true.
I just hope this place doesn't mind the fact I now reek of blood and gunpowder. Actually, knowing typical tavern patrons, that's probably part of the dress code is to smell of recent trouble. It's all action and all danger all the time with me, don't you know? Take that, tough guys!
-Basira Nejem
Dated third day of the third week of spring in the year 367 during which it was reported we were having some of the finest weather in ages
Total Words So Far - 6211
Today is a beautiful day full of new opportunities and---
---LOCK ROCKS, ELF IS SELFISH. LOCK CAN RHYME BETTER THAN YOU! WHY YES LOCK IS PRETTY GREAT THANKS FOR ASKING! SEE YOU, LOSER!
---Dear diary, seems my fantastic bonds that I have applied to my captive pet were not good enough. I awoke again after I had woke up the first time, and I assure you I was not pleased! There was a lump on my head and, for some reason, that hawk came back and nested on my head, thinking the lump an egg it had to hatch. By the gods, if I weren't so beautiful and smart, I'd think my life a divine joke.
When I originally got up, it was just past dawn and I heard a roaring and a grumbling not unlike what a ravenous wolf or dragon would make. I had thought it just my hungry stomach, but my complacency got the best of me. It really was a dragon. Lock got out and I found a bit of my hair tangled on The Marshal's butt. Now, before you paint me as some kind of historical harlot, future scholars, let me assure you entirely I am not that kind of floozy. I could never cheat on my beloved tool belt, nor could I tear The Marshal away from his one true love; killing things dead. It was a love not meant to be. So no, it's quite unlike that. You're rude for even thinking it! For actual porn, pay patronage to your nearest brothel or visit your local library.
When I awoke for the cameo appearance, it was lunch hour and my contents of my gut, just mere lemonade, were no longer on the inside of me and all down my front. My head was cracking and I had dreamed that Lock had escaped her confines and beat me to secure her freedom, mocking me in my own journal. Except for the part where that actually happened. You'd think I'd dream of something normal for once, like flying with my ears. It's a common dream for elves to have! Just like I know it's a documented factual fact that dwarves dream of winning wrestling competitions only using their beards. If that were true, I'd almost be jealous of that. Almost. The only thing stopping me would be the fact I'd never be able to pick all the bugs out of that rug.
I knew the elders would be pissing their britches if they found out I failed keeping Lock locked up so I set out to right that wrong and make sure they'd never find out in a billion years. Then again, I'm pretty sure they're that old already. I bet they're pissing their pants just in excitement about finding some exciting new denture bonding paste in the market. Figures. I grabbed my grocery list and got my quaint rag out, polishing the part where The Marshal got hit. At least my money was still on me. I knew those dragons were too dumb to do anything right, even petty assault and robbery.
I slung my gun around on my back and made way towards the first stall, settling in and peeking my head into their tent and eying their shelves. A man with a truly amazing twirly mustache stood before me, adjusting his tie and wiggling his nose, making hrmphing noises in an attempt to appear professional on some level. I don't get merchants. That suit he's wearing has got to be stifling him badly. Still, I see he has a nice variety of nails and whatnot, clean and sturdy ones, so I prop a few bags on the counter.
“I say, ma'am, are you looking for a good screw? Welcome to Jonesy's, you've come to to the right shed!” he asks me, entirely oblivious as to how ridiculous and not family friendly he sounds. “I got a discount on nails and hammers, too! Wouldn't you like a good nailing?”
I'm pretty sure my glaring at him like he'd just killed my own mother got my point across. He adjusted his tie and hrmphed again, the monocle on his left eye popping out a bit. “Oh, my apologies! I forget how silly and bad that sounds at times! I assure you, no harm, no foul here! I really did just mean bits for your hands to tool around with! Wait, am I doing it again?”
Poor guy. Probably hasn't gotten laid since before that mustache of his started growing. I pity any woman or man that winds up in his bedside; he'd probably think they were in need of being reupholstered or some such nonsense. I picked up a ducat out of my bag and slapped it on the table with a loud thud, saying he'd take it and only it for the nails, throwing in a pack of screws and a driver for half that as discount for listening to his dumbassery. “But I've a monocle to polish! You're tearing me apart!” he screams as I leave, just grinning that I got everything for about a third of market price. Word to the wise, if you're going to own a store, don't sell innuendo. That's not even worth the breath used to say it.
I shield my eyes and make some more rounds, hood up to cover my head lest any more birds decide I'm there to be nurtured and hatched, and make my way to a nearby palm tree. There's a demonic woman here, dressed in garb that would blind even a shaman tripping their headdress on peyote, snapping gum at me and picking her nose with her spaded tail with gay abandon. She also has a bunch of fruit for sale though, so I'm going to reluctantly ask her how much her melons are.
“Twenty ducats for them both juiced up against your greasy little elf tits.” she snorts at me. I was right, I was regretting this. Of all my luck, running into a hooker that sells fruit and who may be a bit of a fruit herself. Was everyone at this bazaar drunk or high or both? What an era we live in, ladies and gentlemen. When I assured her I wasn't into that, and that she was just a tart selling tarts, and to give me the price of the real melons, she just stared at me.
Really, I don't need to get laid! Send these weirdos out to someone else, gods. I don't know what my quest's obsession with this topic is and quite frankly it's disturbing. I changed the subject and asked her if she'd seen any dragon chicks nearby.
“Tequila Morning.” she replies. I ask her what in the name of Our Lady Laeshann she means. Is that some kind of drink? Do I need to pay her in booze? “No, it's my name, short-ass. At least address me properly.” Fine, Rum Afternoon, or whatever, you seen any dragons? I'd almost be willing to part with the high ducat price to rid of her and her passive, booger flinging ass at this point. “Sure did, she was just my most recent customer! She should be around here sleeping in a sunspot to recharge herself after what I did to---” La la la, not listening! You can't make me hear it! “---hadn't pegged you for the type to be into lizards instead of succubi, anyways. Kinky little rude bitch, ain't ya?” Gods. End me here. Please. I throw a few coin at her and snort off, walking to the edge of the tents and rustling behind a bush. “Recommend me to all your friends, you perverted little cloaca munching elf butt!” the hooker calls after me, waking my friend Cock Locker up. Fuck you, and not in the way you want, Brandy Half-Past-Midnight.
“Oh, what's this, did you pay for a good rumble in the bush yourself? Hadn't pegged you for---” not this again. Cutting it off here. Sorry, future generations, it's gross here. I fully expect jokes about our hygiene to be the norm in your time, and let me be the first to say they're very well deserved. Her breath reeks of both flesh and cheap booze, a page of my diary ripped out and in her hand as she yawns and puts an arm around me, pulling my head into her leathery chest. Danger, danger! Abort, abort! My ears flick hard in self defense but alas, they just won't cut into her and end her as I am wishing quite hard that they would. What does she want, I ask her, infuriated, demanding she give me my page back. We're so mature here today.
“No no, Lock finds you quite interesting, little elf! You want to build a plane all by your own without the aide of magic? It's not possible yet, little girl, so give up! You'll never be able to reach out there the way Lock and her friends can, and you'll not get this 'delicious revenge' you are so eager to suck off. Ahh, to be this naïve. Your kind really is stupid and violent, aren't they?” What a dumb, cocky bitch. I don't even know why I'm recording her foul mouth in full anymore except to prove my side of the argument here is the only right one. “Lock sees you writing in it so lovingly every day, so Lock just decided to sneak a peek in and see why you're so close to fucking it! Now maybe Lock sees why; because you are a fool!”
I just pull out The Marshal, reminding her that's what put a hole in both her wings, disabling her and grounding her for now, and why she got locked up in the first place. She'd be wise to listen to him, lest I mar his good looks with her blood and anger him. She just slithers her gross tail around and plugs up my muzzle with it, grinning a toothy grin, each fang more yellow and mangled than the last. “Yer's a feisty one, ain'tcha, elf? Lock almost sort of likes you! It takes balls to want to point that thing at an enemy twice your size, right in their face. Even if Lock cannot fly right now, Lock could still take her claws to you and have a nifty elven-skin handbag, stripped of your flesh before anyone could hear you scream.”
Gross. How unhygienic her threats were bothered me. I just shuddered and held my position, eyes narrowing. By the Embers, I'd say I'd even looked a bit cool and heroic, standing my guard against the evil princess-snatching beast of lore. “Wow, you are an idiot to not run at that. Why, back in my day, you elves behaved yourselves and---”
I just yanked my gun free and blew the tip of her tail off. Fuck listening to that egotistical rambling any longer, I just barged in while she was still in shock at me attacking her, capping her nose and skull back with The Marshal's butt, returning the favor she gave me. Knocked out cold. I dragged her by her wounded tail back to her wagon and hoisted her up, re-doubling my rope bonds against her and rushing back to buy some heavy chains I had intended to use for my engine. Seems I'd have to unfortunately spare one to keep her in place. Goodbye, wasted ducats. My dream will have to be put on hold another short while longer as I scrounge up more coin and more chain. If I really were the kind the women had pegged me for, I think I'd might make a decent living as a dominatrix, what with how I am speaking and all!
You know what I could really go for? A tall glass of juice and some of the bazaar’s famous snake kebabs. I think I'll go back in and get some before finishing shopping. I had only hoped for this to be a one entry deal, but Lock kind of cockblocked me out of it. I hope you, dearest diary, and anyone in the future reading this accept my humblest apologies for my delay on making the grandest dream a woman ever had come true.
I just hope this place doesn't mind the fact I now reek of blood and gunpowder. Actually, knowing typical tavern patrons, that's probably part of the dress code is to smell of recent trouble. It's all action and all danger all the time with me, don't you know? Take that, tough guys!
-Basira Nejem
Dated third day of the third week of spring in the year 367 during which it was reported we were having some of the finest weather in ages
