Plunkett Notes

Words by a simple dwarf

21 Olarune, 998YK – Late Evening, 19th Bell

I noticed Rapey Dave writing down some things in a notebook or book or tome or something. I don’t trust him. I don’t trust anybody who writes as much as he does. He also smells unnaturally delicious. Like a piece of rubbed pork. He’s always spiced up. What the hell? And the way that he fights sneaking up on people and choking them with a rope. Really? There is something not right with him. What type of adventurer shies away from an honest fight? One’s honor is shown in his scars. One learns to fear death and cherish life by looking his opponent in they eyes as his life drains out of him.

The weather was nice today. Reminded me of happier times. Home. I need to get out of the city. It’s unnatural. These towers and bridges. I rather enjoyed our time in the underbelly of Sharn. I hope more time is spent there, on the ground. And maybe I can finish what ever silly escapade I am on and get out of the city and back into the country or smaller towns and villages at least. Cities are for those with secrets to hide. For those fleeing something or someone and for those pretending to be someone who they are not.

Any one of this bunch I am again acquainted with could be hiding more from me than they have revealed. Who are they really? We were first united for a single battle and quickly dispersed. And now here we are again. What do I know about them really? Can I trust them?

Rapey Dave kills behind. Veneficus has no respect for the well being of our party – and wasn’t even with us four years ago. Pint, well, he’s a few ounces short of a full glass and can’t recall who he is. Swaggart is braggart. Kel’iah Dek’ar is unnaturally optimistic. What are they doing in this city and why now?

I hate cities. I wonder if she’s been this way. No. I need to get out of this place and back to the land. Get my hands dirtied by something other than blood for a change.

Plunkett Notes

Forgotten Things PTrig