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Words In This Update - 2075
Total Words So Far - 10375
So who in the vast desert lands of Nnon gave the the tribal bards permission to play me a wake up tune? Who? They know I hate them more than anyone else possible in the whole Golden Age. I looked up to see their greasy faces, making sure it was them before threatening them with my wrench. Last time I did, it was just one of the cats wailing like a succubus in heat, and I wound up with a lovely set of scratch marks across my face that wouldn't clean right for days. Sand got in them and everything. Huge jerks. Why you gotta go and do that, you're the one that started it! Maybe I ought to make you statically charged and use you to power my engine. I hope you like flying, sweet little pussy cat! I know you won't, so don't tempt me into making you the first air kitty.
My line of thought seems to have derailed itself entirely. That's what I get for trying to do this stream of consciousness style writing. That, and it hurts my wrist. Yeah, I looked up this time and saw my two least favorite people, Alcy and Krissy. If their names are somehow recorded in a book as being famous somewhere down the line in your grand future land, my ghost doesn't want to hear about it. I snarled, thinking to myself I'd prefer a hangover or hanging out with Tequila Morning and her merry, perverted, shameless crew again. At least they don't sing and would be too doped up on their happy berries to do much beyond weak verbal fights. I groaned and covered my eyes and ears, putting my cape over my face and faking sick. Unfortunately, it didn't work, as they brought out their mandolin and tambourine and banged against them louder, belting out some overly sugary tune about flowers or fairies or something. The only delicate pixies I see right now are the two idiots in poofy hats in front of me.
Maybe if I growled like dwarf exposed to the sun or hissed like a wild dune cat, they'd flee and leave me to dream my dreamy dreams about flying, making dragon scale handbags, and then making a fortune on the black market with them. Also, something about one of the wagon wolves coming up to me in a cap and asking me if I had the time and could direct him to the nearest sandwich shop. Then that stupid succubus and lamia I met came riding by on a mountain boar, naked, discussing cheese making techniques. Shit, I knew they'd show up. Though with all the food showing up, I wonder if I just didn't eat enough before bed.
Speaking of, my stomach did the roaring for me and scared them off. Or I had hoped it did. They came back handing me a rock melon and singing about how great its nutrients were. Give me a fucking break, you two. I know we're all excited to be packing up and making our way further west, our next stop being the Solim Mineshaft. It's a place long since abandoned but should provide me with many a resource. I've been waiting a while to go to it ever since I heard of the monsters inhabiting it. Where there's monsters, there's bound to be a payload. For some reason, it always seems to work that way. The Marshal and I are big kids though, we can definitely handle it.
I ate my melon while reluctantly listening to their nonsense stories, dreaming of ways I could possibly use their instruments as a fuel source. The world's first engine running purely on shitty music. I think I could get behind that. Finally, a use for bards and their ear-shattering blabber! Maybe slip some of the mitter berries into their precious mead and have them blabber endlessly for perpetual fuel. I'm sure this could win me some kind of award! As I toss the rinds to the side and go to rinse my gloves and mouth off, I feel a familiar tap tapping at my belt area. Oh by Our Lady, is someone going to get fresh with me? I'm not in the slave market anymore, promise!
Speak of the devil themselves though, I turn around with my hammer out to make work of whoever is tapping me's genitalia and see that Mistress Anna lady from yesterday. Crap, what's she doing here? I don't want to join your slave club or get a frequent visitor card or anything! Get away from me, you dirty snake, I don't know where you've been! Or I would say that, if I wanted to be obvious in my fear. Gotta play it cool. Even if everyone's staring at me already. I can hear them mumbling about how it's odd the slave owner woman wants me specifically. Is she going to blab about my visit? Not if I have anything to say about it.
“You dropped this.” she says, handing me my powder horn. Oh wow, did I really? I don't remember having done so. The only way that could come off is if someone unlatched it from behind my coin pouch and---
Suddenly it all made sense. She'd taken it off when she went to take my payment from me and came back to embarrass me in front of my tribe. I knew better than to trust a lamia; they're very well known for shaming their prey. You see, lamia are cannibals and willing to eat anyone remotely human or elven or dwarven or flesh-y like. Maybe she had come back to marinate me in my own gunpowder and devour me for dinner and oh, by Our Lady, the last thing I want is to be some gross snake's vore fantasy fulfillment. I hope my facial expressions and flop-sweat in front of the tribe were worth it, woman, because my respect points are going to drop down here fast.
“I found it outside a tent nearby. You're the only one with a weapon big enough to warrant having it, so I sniffed you out with my tongue to return it. Have a nice day, miss, enjoy your travels!” Oh, the damnable wench, she tricked me! She wasn't going to tattle, but by showing up and making me a nervous wreck, she made my own stupid self give me away! That's it, we're out of here, I never want to see another lamia for a long time! I bet she's laughing it up with Tequila Morning right now! Damn them both to the Embers forever!
The whole Stormlock tribe locks their eyes on me, and so does Lock, all of them stifling their laughter poorly as the stupid scalefucker I tied up snorts embers out her nostrils in delight. I raise my hood up and just get in my wagon without a word, following a bit behind everyone else. I watch as Tolin fades into the horizon behind me, glad to be rid of it. I'm so tense, though, I flag down the medicine girl's wagon and have her meet me on the side of the trail to help me. Kattu's a good woman, always kindly and doing her best to make sure the tribe's in its best health, by which I mean drugged way hard, I know whatever it is she has will help me forget this ever happened. I hope our future history has been kind to her, if her name is even a tenth as well known as mine. If anyone here deserves the fame, it's her. Even if she does do that weird thing with her left eye and the cackling, though I'm sure that's just for sure. Nobody could be that devious acting on purpose, right? Right? Especially not our legally questionable freely drug dispensing woman. That would just be suspicious and a bit too predictable. Okay, I admit it, the woman fucking frightens me, and that's why I'm putting in the good word for her, but that's only so she doesn't hex me or poison me or give me an aphrodisiac when I wanted a painkiller just so she can giggle madly as I squirm in my pilot's seat.
Maybe I should have brought someone along with me just in case she decides I never need to be seen again, but that's what The Marshal is for, even if he's scared too. Especially since we're so close to some monster infested mines. It's an almost too perfect scene, the kind you see in bad literature produced for cheap thrills that lazy half-elves sell after dark promising titillation and tits or whatnot. A waste of paper if you ask me. I never thought any of that garbage had any basis in reality though. I just hope I have enough ammunition to survive, because retrieving it from dead bodies can be a real bitch sometimes. I know it's good to recycle, but that shit just ain't worth it some days.
“What ails ya?” grins Kattu with her creepy, twitchy silver eyes, that accursed left one bugging out at me as she snorts and buffs her fingernails on her front coat. I swear, if it weren't for the fact she's pretty aside form that eye thing, you'd think she just stepped out of the Embers itself to try to sell us piping hot magma to drink, marketing it as what all the cool kids are doing nowadays. She'd make a mint, too. Girl knows her trade, at the very least.
I just act as cool as I can and tell her it's just stress and soreness from working. “Sure, I believe that, slave driver.” Yeah, they definitely could all tell what I was up to. Dammit, Anna, you're going to the top of my shit list. Okay, you're not as bad as Alcy and Krissy, but second place is not a place you want to be on that. Trust me. Kattu digs in a satchel and passes me a desert rose colored liquid in a small vial, opening it to let the smell of prickly pears into the wagon. It's inviting, and she asks for a paltry five ducats for it. I hand over ten, not wanting to have my head shrunk as I slept, nodding and downing it before continuing on the trail, making sure she drives ahead of me. Just get going, woman. You and your eye will haunt my dreams. Also, I should probably organize that shit list of mine soon. It's a bit outdated and the fact it lacks Lock on it still is a crime that must be atoned for as quickly as possible. I wouldn't want to insult her, now would I? Well, not further than I already have. A genius needs an amazing enemy, after all, even if she smells like my leather gloves soaked in wolf piss.
I look up and see the stars out clearly tonight, my head beginning to wobble and my handwriting growing weird. I hope you can still understand this, future scholars, and I'm sorry if I sound even more talkative than usual, but just deal with it. I'm sure you've seen and heard worse by now. What was in that potion Kattu gave me? Remind me to look up medicinal applications of desert fruits and roses later, I'm definitely suspecting the rose in it is what's making me feel like I'm already flying without an engine strapped to my back. Let's hope she doesn't give any of the rest of the tribe that stuff, we're going to need to be on guard once we get near the mines.
Speaking of, I see their encampment up ahead towards the top of the basin where Solim Mineshaft rests at the bottom. I hope they got something good to eat, I'm starting to feel ravenous from the potion I ingested. Here's praying I make it through dinner and wake up with all my limbs intact. I need to take the morning guard position and I'd rather do it without thinking any monsters inside are my spirit animal. Besides, we all know my spirit animal is the oil pump.
-Basira Nejem
Dated fifth day of the third week of spring in the year 367 in which it becomes known to me I can taste colors and hear flavors dancing in my pretty little skull woweee I'll take another of that vial yessir m'am good hjskdgkfg
Total Words So Far - 10375
So who in the vast desert lands of Nnon gave the the tribal bards permission to play me a wake up tune? Who? They know I hate them more than anyone else possible in the whole Golden Age. I looked up to see their greasy faces, making sure it was them before threatening them with my wrench. Last time I did, it was just one of the cats wailing like a succubus in heat, and I wound up with a lovely set of scratch marks across my face that wouldn't clean right for days. Sand got in them and everything. Huge jerks. Why you gotta go and do that, you're the one that started it! Maybe I ought to make you statically charged and use you to power my engine. I hope you like flying, sweet little pussy cat! I know you won't, so don't tempt me into making you the first air kitty.
My line of thought seems to have derailed itself entirely. That's what I get for trying to do this stream of consciousness style writing. That, and it hurts my wrist. Yeah, I looked up this time and saw my two least favorite people, Alcy and Krissy. If their names are somehow recorded in a book as being famous somewhere down the line in your grand future land, my ghost doesn't want to hear about it. I snarled, thinking to myself I'd prefer a hangover or hanging out with Tequila Morning and her merry, perverted, shameless crew again. At least they don't sing and would be too doped up on their happy berries to do much beyond weak verbal fights. I groaned and covered my eyes and ears, putting my cape over my face and faking sick. Unfortunately, it didn't work, as they brought out their mandolin and tambourine and banged against them louder, belting out some overly sugary tune about flowers or fairies or something. The only delicate pixies I see right now are the two idiots in poofy hats in front of me.
Maybe if I growled like dwarf exposed to the sun or hissed like a wild dune cat, they'd flee and leave me to dream my dreamy dreams about flying, making dragon scale handbags, and then making a fortune on the black market with them. Also, something about one of the wagon wolves coming up to me in a cap and asking me if I had the time and could direct him to the nearest sandwich shop. Then that stupid succubus and lamia I met came riding by on a mountain boar, naked, discussing cheese making techniques. Shit, I knew they'd show up. Though with all the food showing up, I wonder if I just didn't eat enough before bed.
Speaking of, my stomach did the roaring for me and scared them off. Or I had hoped it did. They came back handing me a rock melon and singing about how great its nutrients were. Give me a fucking break, you two. I know we're all excited to be packing up and making our way further west, our next stop being the Solim Mineshaft. It's a place long since abandoned but should provide me with many a resource. I've been waiting a while to go to it ever since I heard of the monsters inhabiting it. Where there's monsters, there's bound to be a payload. For some reason, it always seems to work that way. The Marshal and I are big kids though, we can definitely handle it.
I ate my melon while reluctantly listening to their nonsense stories, dreaming of ways I could possibly use their instruments as a fuel source. The world's first engine running purely on shitty music. I think I could get behind that. Finally, a use for bards and their ear-shattering blabber! Maybe slip some of the mitter berries into their precious mead and have them blabber endlessly for perpetual fuel. I'm sure this could win me some kind of award! As I toss the rinds to the side and go to rinse my gloves and mouth off, I feel a familiar tap tapping at my belt area. Oh by Our Lady, is someone going to get fresh with me? I'm not in the slave market anymore, promise!
Speak of the devil themselves though, I turn around with my hammer out to make work of whoever is tapping me's genitalia and see that Mistress Anna lady from yesterday. Crap, what's she doing here? I don't want to join your slave club or get a frequent visitor card or anything! Get away from me, you dirty snake, I don't know where you've been! Or I would say that, if I wanted to be obvious in my fear. Gotta play it cool. Even if everyone's staring at me already. I can hear them mumbling about how it's odd the slave owner woman wants me specifically. Is she going to blab about my visit? Not if I have anything to say about it.
“You dropped this.” she says, handing me my powder horn. Oh wow, did I really? I don't remember having done so. The only way that could come off is if someone unlatched it from behind my coin pouch and---
Suddenly it all made sense. She'd taken it off when she went to take my payment from me and came back to embarrass me in front of my tribe. I knew better than to trust a lamia; they're very well known for shaming their prey. You see, lamia are cannibals and willing to eat anyone remotely human or elven or dwarven or flesh-y like. Maybe she had come back to marinate me in my own gunpowder and devour me for dinner and oh, by Our Lady, the last thing I want is to be some gross snake's vore fantasy fulfillment. I hope my facial expressions and flop-sweat in front of the tribe were worth it, woman, because my respect points are going to drop down here fast.
“I found it outside a tent nearby. You're the only one with a weapon big enough to warrant having it, so I sniffed you out with my tongue to return it. Have a nice day, miss, enjoy your travels!” Oh, the damnable wench, she tricked me! She wasn't going to tattle, but by showing up and making me a nervous wreck, she made my own stupid self give me away! That's it, we're out of here, I never want to see another lamia for a long time! I bet she's laughing it up with Tequila Morning right now! Damn them both to the Embers forever!
The whole Stormlock tribe locks their eyes on me, and so does Lock, all of them stifling their laughter poorly as the stupid scalefucker I tied up snorts embers out her nostrils in delight. I raise my hood up and just get in my wagon without a word, following a bit behind everyone else. I watch as Tolin fades into the horizon behind me, glad to be rid of it. I'm so tense, though, I flag down the medicine girl's wagon and have her meet me on the side of the trail to help me. Kattu's a good woman, always kindly and doing her best to make sure the tribe's in its best health, by which I mean drugged way hard, I know whatever it is she has will help me forget this ever happened. I hope our future history has been kind to her, if her name is even a tenth as well known as mine. If anyone here deserves the fame, it's her. Even if she does do that weird thing with her left eye and the cackling, though I'm sure that's just for sure. Nobody could be that devious acting on purpose, right? Right? Especially not our legally questionable freely drug dispensing woman. That would just be suspicious and a bit too predictable. Okay, I admit it, the woman fucking frightens me, and that's why I'm putting in the good word for her, but that's only so she doesn't hex me or poison me or give me an aphrodisiac when I wanted a painkiller just so she can giggle madly as I squirm in my pilot's seat.
Maybe I should have brought someone along with me just in case she decides I never need to be seen again, but that's what The Marshal is for, even if he's scared too. Especially since we're so close to some monster infested mines. It's an almost too perfect scene, the kind you see in bad literature produced for cheap thrills that lazy half-elves sell after dark promising titillation and tits or whatnot. A waste of paper if you ask me. I never thought any of that garbage had any basis in reality though. I just hope I have enough ammunition to survive, because retrieving it from dead bodies can be a real bitch sometimes. I know it's good to recycle, but that shit just ain't worth it some days.
“What ails ya?” grins Kattu with her creepy, twitchy silver eyes, that accursed left one bugging out at me as she snorts and buffs her fingernails on her front coat. I swear, if it weren't for the fact she's pretty aside form that eye thing, you'd think she just stepped out of the Embers itself to try to sell us piping hot magma to drink, marketing it as what all the cool kids are doing nowadays. She'd make a mint, too. Girl knows her trade, at the very least.
I just act as cool as I can and tell her it's just stress and soreness from working. “Sure, I believe that, slave driver.” Yeah, they definitely could all tell what I was up to. Dammit, Anna, you're going to the top of my shit list. Okay, you're not as bad as Alcy and Krissy, but second place is not a place you want to be on that. Trust me. Kattu digs in a satchel and passes me a desert rose colored liquid in a small vial, opening it to let the smell of prickly pears into the wagon. It's inviting, and she asks for a paltry five ducats for it. I hand over ten, not wanting to have my head shrunk as I slept, nodding and downing it before continuing on the trail, making sure she drives ahead of me. Just get going, woman. You and your eye will haunt my dreams. Also, I should probably organize that shit list of mine soon. It's a bit outdated and the fact it lacks Lock on it still is a crime that must be atoned for as quickly as possible. I wouldn't want to insult her, now would I? Well, not further than I already have. A genius needs an amazing enemy, after all, even if she smells like my leather gloves soaked in wolf piss.
I look up and see the stars out clearly tonight, my head beginning to wobble and my handwriting growing weird. I hope you can still understand this, future scholars, and I'm sorry if I sound even more talkative than usual, but just deal with it. I'm sure you've seen and heard worse by now. What was in that potion Kattu gave me? Remind me to look up medicinal applications of desert fruits and roses later, I'm definitely suspecting the rose in it is what's making me feel like I'm already flying without an engine strapped to my back. Let's hope she doesn't give any of the rest of the tribe that stuff, we're going to need to be on guard once we get near the mines.
Speaking of, I see their encampment up ahead towards the top of the basin where Solim Mineshaft rests at the bottom. I hope they got something good to eat, I'm starting to feel ravenous from the potion I ingested. Here's praying I make it through dinner and wake up with all my limbs intact. I need to take the morning guard position and I'd rather do it without thinking any monsters inside are my spirit animal. Besides, we all know my spirit animal is the oil pump.
-Basira Nejem
Dated fifth day of the third week of spring in the year 367 in which it becomes known to me I can taste colors and hear flavors dancing in my pretty little skull woweee I'll take another of that vial yessir m'am good hjskdgkfg
