Journal Fragment 2
[My name is Merwin Rattrap. I used to run the guesthouse in Delaforte (that quiet town along the Mage Road as you head north out of Rea) before the town boss went batt-crap nuts on all of us and ran the whole staff out of town. Who did he think he was accusing us of stealing things right out of his own mansion on the hill? Anyway, one day I was cleaning the guestrooms, and I found a journal behind a writing desk in the master suite. there was only a couple pages of beer stained entries, mostly what looked like a memoir of a conversation some drunk patron must have wanted to record late at night. the handwriting gets progressively worse and sort of scribbles off the page at the end of the final sentence, almost as if the writer finally passed out and knocked it behind the desk? The funny thing about all this is I have a cousin named Lester who runs an inn just outside of Duncester. Lester told me he found something just like it – a few pages of memoirs recounting the life of some kid growing up in the mountains somewhere way up around Highdoon. Lester got real quiet after he started telling me about what he had read on those pages he found under one of his beds… something about demons locked up in the cellars under churches mountain towns and kids gone missing… apparently his found journal wasn’t quite as lighthearted as the one I found here. See below.]
“…I won big tonight. I’m honestly not sure those rangers have ever played three dragon ante before, and I feel kind of bad that they probably wont ever play again after the beating I gave them at the table. Meh, nobody put a crossbow to their heads to make ‘em play. Anyway, it got me remembering that time I ran into that little halfpint fella – Timmy? TommyLee? crap, I love that little feller, and I can’t even remember his name right now… damm, I need another drink to jog my memory – it feels like it’s been hours since I emptied that flask… I feel a headache coming on………….~~~#^%$ªººªªª––ºª–ªºª…….
Oh yeah – it’s Timli, of course, that Rean brandy always does the trick. So I was thinking tonight of the that time a few months back when I was in that quiet town outside of the Cret forest, (was it called Verillion?) had just started to settle in – such a nice place – great weather, great Elven moon wine (got to find that stuff again) and lots of rich nobles wanting to play at dice and cards… too bad I can probably never go back there again… dammit…. You know, it occurs to me that the first time I met that little guy I should have seen what was coming – that situation pretty much set the tone for our whole relationship. Every time Timli shows up in a town I’m in, things go crazy in a hurry, and we usually end up fighting for our lives trying to escape, usually with the town constabulary swinging and shooting at us. Of course it’s obvious that poor Timli has some really “boundary issues” we used to call it. the li’l nugget’s got a good heart, but he’s got a way of drawing in trouble like a torch attracts moths…
Anyway, i always get a chuckle when I recall that night after I ran to the street to see about the explosions outside the tavern… let me see if I can write it out like one of them play scripts my buddy Jones used to make when we were in the caravan with that bard group:
“Timli!? What the frack are you doing in this town? Woah… is that critter over there breathing fire?! What in samhill is going on? Wait… did you bring all this trouble with you, again? (at this point I had to hit the deck because something big leaped towards me, but thankfully it kept moving towards the archer shooting from across the street, giving me time to unstrap my hammer.)
“Dammit, Timli. Just when I finally find a decent town with cheap drinks and no nosy constables breakin up the card games, you show up with a pack of devil-spawn!
(I think Timli just stared at me and blinked before throwing a dagger into the thug running towards us)
“Er, yeah, I see your point… (ducking a burst of flame)… You know it actually kind of reminds me of that time in Mallebrack when we had to fight our way out of town after that dice game went south… (I paused to smack some sappy club-wielder in the head)… no, it wasn’t my fault for calling out the dealer… (at that point I barely sidestepped an axe swing from some guy I didn’t see before – Timli was always distracting me from paying attention in a fight, which is why he claims he’s the winner when we bet on who’ll gets in the most solid hits)… and yes, I do genuinely think he had carnal knowledge of that sow behind the tavern before it became our dinner tonight…` ``~(^ (ª•¶§
Heh… err… wheresh .. .mahblashted flagrea;l’?``™¡£–≠º……≥/a∞¢¢fsda/§………
[The drunk guy must have passed out here or something. Too bad – sounds like the beginning of a great story. I should ask around about this if I ever make it out to the Cret Forest… I wonder if Verillion is the name of that place that had a horrible fire a while back…?]