The Newer Lands

Wil Varis's Log: Still On This Damn Boat

Journal Entry 2

Journal,

I hate traveling. By Ioun’s fecund balls, I hate traveling. Either it takes us ten times as long as it should on account of jackassery and monsters, or it takes us five seconds, then I throw up, and then we get jackassery and monsters. I mean, I just killed a dragon. Giant flying lizard from a hell-cave. Think about that. Flying thing from underground. We’re on the open sea. It boggles the noggin. It’s not all bad though, even if the guys keep pointing out that the sea is pretty much a giant really-deep river. They’re good company. Annoying some of the time, but hey, you can’t pick family. Falraen’s boss though, man I hate that lady already. She just gives me a vibe, like one of those everybody-we’ve-ever-met-who-ended-up-stabbing-us-when-we-weren’t-looking-and-sometimes-when-we-were vibes. I wonder how well she can swim in that armor. Then again, she could probably pop back up to deck. Once. If she can see the deck. Shall make a note of this.

Otherwise, things are pretty good, journal! We’re on a field trip and I think the guys are going to not-murder Malich when we’re done! That would be pretty neat. It takes a lot to get over wanting to set every wizard on fire, so making this one exception feels like a big watershed personal growth moment for me. Which means it better be the last for awhile, I don’t know that I can handle too many of those one after another.

Guess I should go now! There’s some commotion on the deck and I think I’m needed for something-or-other. Those necks don’t snap themselves, journal.

-XOXOXOXOXiaiaXOXOX,

WIL!

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Chernobyl

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