Journal Entries – Berebold the Weezard


The High Tor

How delightfully funny, what Hallie did to Landald! Half-asleep or not, she had to have aimed to cover him in that much effluvia, a fate I find most fitting for his endless mockery of my new poncho; I refuse to believe that I look “like a gay matador” no matter how much he insists that I do (and my poncho is not pink – it is light red, a subtle shade of masculinity for such a refined and subtle man like myself.)

It is fortunate that we found the ruined tor in the middle of that terrible storm; I wasn’t sure if I was going to drown or be struck by lightning first, and I felt just awful for Hadwisa slipping halfway down the hillside before Landald caught her hand – although I must admit I rather enjoyed watching her hair come loose, wild and flying and whipping just like the storm itself, her eyes bright enough to shame the lightning. I can’t ever forget how raw she looked, how wild-eyed and wild-haired. I can imagine her standing over me like that – how delicious! It just sends shivers down my spine.

Is it terrible of me to say that I am glad we are rid of Dameron and Clay? I admit being in shock for about a week after it happened – it was so quick, Clay’s death, and Dameron’s, too – but I was in just as much shock when Clay challenged an entire temple dedicated to The Black Lord to a duel, and that fool Dameron backed him! He sounded so manful talking about honor and esprit de corps the night before his death, sharpening his sword before we went to bed, but I didn’t recognize them as synonyms for stupidity. Poor Clay – are all paladins so stupid? Or just those dedicated to Bahamut?

Hallie says we’re going to be spending a week or better in Wyrm Tribe, which sounds like a week of filthy hell surrounded by rash, uncouth people who don’t bathe, read or listen to opera. Why couldn’t she have decided upon going to Everhart? Oh, she’d probably say something about elves not knowing how to fit someone her size, but surely its worth spending an extra week or two among a people that use clean forks while looking for an appropriate blacksmith? Or perhaps she’s secretly afraid of heights? I just hope I can stick around for her fittings.

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