Kaste

Perhaps. Perhaps . . . March 31, 2007

Hadriaan and I had traveled into the Vale. He was insistent that he help me with several tasks I had left to finish there, and although he was a tad more of a burden than a help, I let him join me. My final task was to destroy a sea-monster for some half-drunk, bumbling pirate. Okay, easy enough.

I was wrong. We barely managed to slay the foul thing and it crushed nearly every rib in my body, quite painful, to say the least. Afterwards. . . Well, I guess I should start this off by saying I have a bit of a cold.

Afterwards, one of Hadriaan’s friends. . . friends? Agreed to help me save some sort of Tauren Princess. She was the most powerful Warlock I had ever seen. Well, I guess that isin’t to much seeing as how the only warlocks I know are Achates, who hides under desks. Ysabelle. . . she just, well, she’s horribly untrustworthy and emotional. And Ilu, who is emotional, and just -really- naive. Anyhow, yes. She is very powerful. And motherly. An undead warlock, who is motherly. She insisted I be taken back to her quarters and be wrapped in a blanket and to lay down, sipping chicken noodle soup all day! I finally managed to convince her to let me go, but she wants me to let her check up on me to make sure I’m not sick.

 Then, I ran out of painkillers. This was about the time I started talking to Mazikeen. She is good with bandages, it seems, and offered to help me. With a bit of insistence, she finally bandaged up my ribs, and didin’t expect anything in return. Odd. Perhaps. Perhaps she can be trusted, even if she is three things nobody should -ever- trust. An elf, a woman, and a rogue.