Dear Diary,
My voyage to Olodi is going splendidly, and is already full of adventure, camaraderie and mirth... I suppose a bit of tragedy as well but nothing to get too broken up about. Yestereve, a chance encounter with a pack of autistic wolves (they may have "caustic wolves" - I'm unsure) revealed that my travel companions are quite capable, and more so, that we work well together in the field. If their handling of those wolves is any indicator of their effectiveness in tomb raiding, then I could be back in business soon - no matter how autistic our foes be!
Goj is a gem and Alya certainly keeps things lively. Several times Ignatia has ceased them both from murdering everyone in sight. Although I've always been curious to indulge in mass-murder, I think I'll be siding with Ignatia here, and I'll be saving my first for a more profitable slaughter, and ideally vanquishing only those who deserve it (flex on that last point though). The juice is just not worth the squeeze in this "shit-town" (Ignatia's words, not mine, but I'll side with her on that as well).
Ah yes, the shit-town, I should make a note of that. Our travel plans have taken an unexpected, but delightful turn, and we'll now be extending our stay in Etrans Folly, or Plaguestown or whatever these inbred radish farmers are calling it. The first night was exciting! After a hearty meal, we observed a farmer-on-farmer battle-royal of sorts, which I understand is a tradition here - dinner and a show just for us! At first glance, this town may not seem like the type that would inspire me, but I've well learned that the rarest of treasures can be sometimes found in the most down-trodden, sullen, pathetic and unlikely of places, like the enchanted scepter I found inside of that Orcish whore that one time.
And, as luck would have it, my new comrades and I are well-positioned to become local heroes, and in doing so, rightfully reward ourselves with whatever treasures we can dig up in this shit-town. You see, Bart, or Bort... Bert.... whatever, our caravan leader died, right in front of our eyes no less, seemingly of poison, and most definitely at the hands of a conspirator. To be clear, it was NOT ME, and I think it unlikely to be any of the folk from my caravan (even Goj, but if I'm wrong, well played Goj my boy). So that's the bad news, but the good news is that my new friends and I have undertaken to solve this mystery, and more importantly, right this wrong, for Bart (or Bert/Bort/whatever) and I look forward to the rewards, compensation and all the other words for rewards and compensation that I'd rightfully expect. All of them.
Sincerely Yours (and Belial's - ugh),
Getty
PS - Bert (Bart/Bort/whatever) saw fit to leave me with several of his finest broaches, magnificent purple bijouterie! He did not have a will, nor did he tell anyone that, per ce, but he didn't have to, that was the relationship we had, and I know he would have wanted me to have them. Plus he owed us me from the wolf thing. In fact, he may have even mentioned it at dinner but I was a bit pre-occupied making advances toward this sad-boy knight in the back. I have a feeling about that Sir Lawren Krent, a feeling I just can't shake... What was I talking about? Oh yes, the gracious gifts from our good man dwarf, Blort. I saw fit not to tell my comrades so that they would not be jealous of the special relationship Bork and I had. Ah yes, my dear dead friend Bjork - I will avenge you!