Fighting

“I ‘eard…” Taraborn slurred, “yous don’ like mah singin’” He tried to point at the two men, no, one man, before him accusingly as his head swam.

Arenborn fought with a ferocity that he had previously never displayed, or would ever display again. He fought with such wanton savagery that his attackers fell back in dismay from his onslaught. He was not a man on the defensive, he was a man seeking one thing. Death.

Dear Diary,

It's been a while I know, but so little has happened till recently. The trail went cold on that Nighthawk woman or whatever she called herself. I sunk into boredom after that. Tim helped me a lot, talking to him always cheers me up. 

 Spiders. 

     I hate them. Foul eight legged creatures that are better hiding in their caves than out in the light. I found myself in the north of the Trollshaws when I stumbled into a nest of them. Skittering on the valley floor, I watched them keep their nests clean of bones and debris from their last unsavory meals. Chittering amongst themselves assaulted my ears to the point they could bleed. Of course that did not stop me, but this was one of those days that came close to. 

Aigh, another long day.

You'd think that I'd want to get on the horse every day and ride closer to home.

But it's not the case.  I ache all over, and it's just...I miss home.

I miss my friends.  I miss my family.  This would be much eaiser if I had a traveling companion.

Aigh, maybe this is just a case of being travel sore.  Next town I hit, I'll be fine.  Just need a real bed and some real food, that's all.

No time for whinning, there's work to be done.

Dark clouds hung in the air like a vast cape over the world, “A storm is coming…” mumbled a man with dark leather armour at the front of a company of men, he drew his hood up and bowed his head down as a gust of cold wind hit them. A Wall of pouring water was visible rushing towards them. It his them like a thousand icy daggers hit them, nature had no mercy.