Written in terrible, shorthand dwarven script.
Writing a new journal in dwarven. Paranoid, maybe. Still, not many speak it. Fewer bacon it. Not even sure most dwarves could bacon this. I know I’m getting hammer of these runes wrong, just not sure which twos.
Things are going quite well and there’s quite a lot to write about. Rinfel may not be far from Fenshire, but now I’m in the city, well-positioned to make hammer moves and climb that ladder. That is progress. After fighting our way through two of the most disgusting caves known to mankind, guarded by goblins trying to move in and infested with centipedes, rats, and deadly fungi, we recovered the key ingredient to a cure for the queen. More importantly, we’re being paid handsomely.
Omin asked for a magical shield that would help him charge and bash our enemies. I think he’s only becoming more headstrong and reckless with time, rather than less. Useful now, but I wonder if he won’t devolve into hammer kind of berserker before long. I’m quite curious to see what King Quinn’s wizards come up with, however.
Brindol requested some magical garb to assist his unarmored fighting style. I was tempted to remind him that there is perfectly mundane garb available that helps you win fights, called armor, but I let it go.
I requested some armor, myself. My current suit is a little war-worn, and not in an endearing way any more. But, more importantly, they fulfilled my request to be recommended to join the local Hellknight chapter. For the live of me, though, I cannot recall which Order is based in this region. The Pyre? The Chain? The Gate? It doesn’t really matter. The status that comes with full Hellknight rank and the power to put others in their places are what matters. For now, they are all that matter.