Hasa Diga, Journal Entry #16
In the back. That little bastard stabbed me in the BACK. Stabbed, poisoned, stabbed again.
This is after, against my better judgement, I stood up to that bastard bartender and his Tiefling bretheren. The priestesses always said never to trust a Tiefling.
In the back!! Luckily, he underestimated me, forgetting about my connection to the shadow realm. If I hadn’t immediately jumped into shade form it might be me bleeding out on the ground.
The ‘friendship’ with the elf is an interesting diversion. I was surprised to see her aptitude at scrambling unseen on the rafters— she’s usually much less subtle with her bow. This relationship might turn out to be useful.
Meanwhile the dragonblood and I have formed a bond of sorts. His dedication to duty and unwavering loyalty reminds me of the tribes… even if it’s tainted by his heathen religion. I can only imagine what it must be like to yearn for honor and yet die so young. To die not on the sword of an honorable opponent is unfathomable.
The robot, too, is an interesting case. Troubling though his power is, I am relieved that he has not yet recognized its full potential… and has allied that power with us, even with my initial deception. Another useful compatriot, though his long lapses from lucidity are troubling.
Then there are the others— the Bard, who backs from a fight, so old as to be without the drive for martial honor, and the Druid, too connected with the overworld to be completely trustworthy.
Elves and druids. This is the company I keep. By Lloth.
In this comforting cloud of darkness I am able to catch my breath, and hope the others can keep the Tieflings at bay until I recover. Because when I do the blood of a thousand demons will fill the streets. Blood and oil.