Chronicles of Martoushca of Peltarch II
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@731dd6cfd3:
_Dear Diary,
I had the strangest dream.
I'm walking through the market place, and every second person is a gnoll. The gnolls and regular people are simply trading and carrying on as if it weren't an odd thing. Every now and then a gnoll would nod knowingly to another gnoll, as if they were both in on some plot. I met with my husband, General Del'Rosa, and he was holding our children in his arms. But all five of them were gnolls! Then he was a gnoll!
I woke up with such a start I think I woke the troops around me. What do you think it could mean?
It will be a blessing to see the end of this dam war.
.
Post Script: Del'Rosa is not my husband. It was just a dream._
@731dd6cfd3:
_Diary.
Just returned from the underdark. Hate that place. Dark and full of freaks. I was in a party that included Shallyah. She's quite the warrior! It's like watching someone dance! Even in the dark. Like a dancer. No, more like, if monsters were trees, with that axe she's like a lumber jack. Like a crazy lumber jack. Like one of those massive lumberjacks in Norwick - the ones that smell of stale ale, sweat and moldy crotch. Just like one of those.
We come back to Peltarch, and there in the commons a man runs up. When I say "man" I mean … celestial. Seriously dear diary, the way his bare chest glistened. His body was like, sculpted. I felt such a connection with him! And I feel he may have liked me too. But up comes Shallyah, all bathed after the adventure and wearing that skimpy outfit of hers. The one that shows all that long human leg of hers. The one with all the gaps that shows off the cleavage and other lovely bits. And she's all like "Oh I'm a martial artist too! Bla bla bla I've mastered this and that of the order of pooping red falcon bla bla bla I'm such a dirty slut bla bla bla .. "
Seriously.
Sometimes I feel like I'm doomed to be forever alone. Especially when the likes of Shallyah start flashing their shite around.
At least the grass in the commons is all cut evenly. It's something that nobody seems to appreciate, but I know how important stuff like that is. I don't need a man to give meaning to my life. It's not like I should receive any special attention just because I am a serv_(blurred) f a goddess of love and fertility or anything like that. I me(blurred) _does a servant of Lathander get more sun? Does a servant or Tyr get more justice? So why should a servant of Sheelah Peryroyl -bless her name- get more romance? It's not like I'm lonely or anything.
I'm fine!_
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((The ink in some parts of this diary entry have been smudged by drops of some kind of fluid))
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@a8e51808a7:
_Diary.
I've been encamped by this bridge for what feels like years. It may have only been months, but every day is beginning to feel like its own eternity. Monotony, tedium, punctuated by episodes of the most brutal horror.
And whatever sleep I manage to get, the dreams I have are no better. I would say nightmares, but that would suggest my dreams scare me. I dream of fly blown, matted fur. I dream of gnashing, snapping fangs. I dream of howls and cackles. But its not of gnolls. I dream of my fur, my snap fangs, my howls.
My days are so full of death and hate. What happens when you become what you hate?
I went on a "scouting mission" out to the east. If Gnolls be in bed with demons then I felt it may make sense to attempt some kind of pact with the demons that currently infest Jyyd. I found no trace of gnolls, nor any tracks, but I am not exactly the best tracker. In truth though my self-issued "mission" was really an escape. I wanted to go back. Back to my veggie patch in Jyyd. Back to the old Legion hall. Back to the old bat cave where I used to shovel up guano for the flower bed. It feels like some kind of sick joke that I would be trying to cradle my feelings by returning to a place that is now a demon infested hell hole. Children used to laugh in this place. Now - shite.
I'm back at the bridge as I write this. Spirits are high. I think our frost giant allies do a lot to bolster morale. Sometimes I think it's good to know someone bigger than you has got your back. For me, I'm grateful that they're here. Some question their motives. Not me. And I'd be lying if I denied still being mesmerized by Jay's mustache.
._
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@52cde0ab79:
_Beloved diary, (and I mean that)
Earlier I resolved never again to date a member of the tall folk races, taking into account the sorry mess I have found myself in in the past.
I have recently had to fortify my resolve on this matter. I won't get into a relationship with another man from amongst the tall folk, no matter how powerful his body is, or how formidable his sword is, or how mighty his mustache.
I will be strong._
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@7c05da8da2:
Eights month of the fourteenth year.
_Dear diary.
I've doubted myself before, but never like this.
Was talking with Nilo today. He mentioned that a "copy" of me once clocked him on the back of the head with a sling stone.
I've heard that "Copy" senators were executed in the market place. When they died they turned to snow.
I used to be a senator. So I'm told.
Is it possible that I'm a copy? Am I made of snow like those things destroyed in the marketplace? I've been discussing the issue with members of the Cerulian Star - trying to find out if there's a way to spot a copy. I didn't let on that I worried about being a copy myself. They believe that a copy would remember being created, so if you questioned one at length eventually you would be able to discern if it were telling the truth or lying.
Thing is - I have a massive hole in my memory. Everything between The N'Jast war and me returning after going "missing" is just a black hole. Some things I remember, but as if it were a dream, or as if I'm simply remembering something that someone told me.
Surely I'm real! I remember the orphanage. I remember the war. It may all be a little foggy but_
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The rest of the page is blank.
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@7b09893796:
_Well, I’m alive.
For you who read this, I’m sorry for being so slack at making entries into this diary. It’s just that I loath to make an entry that would bore me if I were to read it.
I managed to shape into the form of a parrot and fly out of giant country without incident. But “without incident” pretty much describes my days since. From time to time I see a group of adventurers leaving on some quest, and returning with stories of great, world saving victory. It seems very obvious that they have no need of me in any of their exploits. The days when I was of use seem to have come and gone.
I’m a veteran of wars that nobody remembers, tending to gardens that nobody cares about.
I would have thought that this would make me sad or angry, but it doesn’t. I’m quite at peace. Every life goes through its seasons. If I am in my autumn then so be it. There is something to be loved in every season. I’ll be happy being a hero to lost cats and blades of grass. Better that than to mourn over glory days I’ll never relive._
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this page is difficult to read. The ink runs as if the entry has been written in light rain.
@d00c41d886:
It's been three days since I've slept or eaten. I have no sprig of holly, and can't build a shrine, so I can't pray to get magic from Sheela.
I'm up a tree.
Only my second entry in this diary and it looks as if it may be my last? Figures. To the one finding this diary I wish all blessings upon you. If my remains are still about I'd be thankful for them to be taken to a temple or grove to be resurrected. If not, then please tell anyone who knew me, if any of them be still alive, that I died carrying out my duty.
To explain how I ended up in this particular predicament - I ventured into Giant country up in the Giantspires to gather information about giant movements and numbers. There was talk about a possible war with the giants a while back and I thought it best to keep the Legion aware of any potential threats. I joined a skirmish between giants and Peltarch Defenders just before the beach. After the battle I spent my prepared cure spells healing the injured soldiers. Then with the help of nature's grace I managed to sneak past the manticores, giants and ogres toward the Giantspires.
I made it thorough the cave without being detected, and made it out the other end. The last time I was out this way there were rolling hills at the base of the mountainside. Now the area has been totally overtaken by a tangled forest. At first, apart from the hissing of steam rising out of a chasm, the forest seemed quiet. This terrified me. Generally I don't scare easily, but silence in a forest like this usually means that a dire predator is close by.
I pushed deeper into the forest, and came across an ogre patrol. By Sheela's grace they didn't spot me, but I knew that I was pushing my luck. I made my way back to the cave that passes below the hills to make my way back to Peltarch. That's when I spotted a lone direwolf hunting. I managed to evade it, but my heart was in my throat. The wolf was of a kind that I have encountered before. Their jaws are powerful, their teeth are cruel, and their thick skin easily deflects most weapons. As the magic that concealed me began to wear off, I encountered a dire bear in the company of an ogre armed with a stone greatsword. The bear lifted its snout into the air sniffing. I knew I had been made. I bolted as it galloped toward me. As I ran toward the cave I took a blow across my back from the Ogre's stone blade that almost ended me.
By luck or grace I managed to give them both the slip. They both charged into the cave searching for me, the bear following my previous scent. I remained in the forest. So now my only passage back toward Peltarch is being scoured by a hungry direbear keen to tear me asunder.
I dare not go into the cave with that bear in there. It will sniff me out for sure and in the cave I would have nowhere to run. So here I sit, hiding up a tree, waiting for my wound to heal. I would take the form of a bird and fly over the mountains, but with my wounded back and the rain I'm not sure if I would make it.
I'm downwind of the cave entrance. With any luck the bear will wander out, and I will be able to slip past it and head back to Peltarch. But luck hasn't exactly been with me lately. In fact, based on my current luck I am prompted to pray for my sins to be forgiven so that I may find a home on the plane of my goddess when I die. May her mercy be upon me. Amen.
