Yesterday I met a fine chap named Graff in the hotel bar, played several hands of Three Dragon Ante, and discussed each other’s magnificent fashion sense. There were some other, rather rude individuals there as well, who weren’t interested in playing cards and clearly hadn’t had a change of clothes in the last decade. Oh, and the bar wench was quite saucy.
Anyway, I was just taking my leave when the poor cook gave a terrified scream from the kitchen. Calling for Kern to bring my shield, I leapt bravely into the fray, as my solemn oath commands, and discovered the most unusual sight – a pint-sized plague of locusts menacing the cook and barkeep. Relying on my swift reflexes, and I skewered, slashed, and stomped away, drawing the foul creatures’ attention away from the others.
After that, everything is a bit of blur, but I remember throwing axes at the locusts, so I’m sure I lost a fair amount of blood.
Aigne has just explained that I missed a bit of excitement last night, but I was busy writing this entry, so I’m not completely sure what she’s going on about. Apparently the locusts were some kind of artifice, and we all got drugged by the Fishers. Given my injuries, she suggests I thank them for giving me some much needed rest. I think she just said something about living plants though, which sounds a bit elvish, and that warrants my attention.
Until next time.