| Friarday, Januar 12th:
While Sir Craig the Humble travels in South-East Nimoreh-Hakram, he meets a powerful shopkeeper in a town. He tells Sir Craig that people believe that a malicious monster feeds upon people somewhere in the swamp of North-West Nimoreh-Hakram, 19 days ride away.
Sir Craig the Humble makes an oath to slay this dangerous beast.
As walked I down a country road
I came upon a talking toad.
Said I to toad: "What the hell?"
Said he to I: "I have a tale to tell!"
I pricked my ears, listened close,
I knew that I would benifit most.
For by profession I am a bard.
As one schooled in the arts of charm,
I can make a room grow cold with dispair
with only a note from my harp laid bare.
Or fill a hall with racous laughter,
and leave with heavy purse thereafter.
Said I to beast: "Enlighten me,
as a bird doth sing in the trees
and convey upon the frigid Earth
the feeling of a warm hearth."
The frog drew back and with a bound
lept gracefully upon a mound.
He cleared his throat and thusly replied:
"Please open your ears quite wide,
For I will only repeat this once."
Perturbed I replied that I was no dunce.
and that I would listen patiently
as the story was revealed to me.
"Deep within the swamps of North-
West Nimoreh-Hakram came forth
a loathesome beast of no desciption
that consumed people as if by prescription.
For forty days and twenty nights
he gave the villagers such fright
that they could no longer defend the town
from all the brigands that roam around.
The tale spread round for half a year
until it rested in Sir Craig's ears.
He vowed to best the foul demon."
"Ah, then I'd best be leavin'!"
I jumped up with a sprightly step
for I could sense Craig's glory yet.
Untapped, a diamond in the rough,
it would be carved if pressed enough.
I thanked the toad and ventured forth,
summing the price in gold it would be worth
to compose an epic of a noble man
who journied across the land
battleing evil wherever it lay
and with that I was on my way.
| Satyrday, Januar 13th to Sonday, Januar 14th:
Sir Craig the Humble ventures to the west quickly through the mountains of South-East Nimoreh-Hakram.
Day and night through muck and mire
I traveled toward that glowing spire,
that beacon of glory that wells from within
the heart of a man with a mission he'll win.
Presently his trail grew stronger,
and I feared I could wait no longer,
or lose the knight in the southern mountains.
I sought to catch him at the last inn.
As if I possessed the very feet of Fortune
I made the inn before Fore Moon
Luck was with me, as it seemed,
for he was not alone; But traveled with three
adventurers fair, bold and daring.
The first was an apothocary.
Christine was the mortal name
for this maiden none could tame.
Indeed she even rather frightened
Sir Craig though he was built as a titan.
Short of stature and hard of hearing,
with fiery hair that needed sheering.
Smouldering eyes, coals of blue fire,
said she would kill any she decided were liars.
Her face was like Death, her temper lightning,
In every brawl, she could be found fighting.
And yet despite her manners coarse,
she was of slighter stature than a newborn horse.
But a self proclaimed alchemist,
she crafts potions, bubbling with mist,
and with them cures every rend.
Disease of the mind, only one could mend.
A wise man, who was Sir Craig's brother.
More skilled in psychology than any other.
His shaggy beard hung to his knees,
his clothes were nought but shaggy fleece.
For the Godess a fortnight through him spake
and told him what risks not to take,
should he value his immortal soul.
In exchange for this information,
she would not allow him rations
more than any mice would consume,
so he developed a taste for brooms.
He'd lost an arm to a beast of a bog.
He acts as though he walks through fog.
Despite all this, he acts quite viril,
And is known worldwide as old man Cyril.
Calling him "Absent minded" would be a joke.
And next comes another bloke.
His name may be a bit misleading.
He mostly spends all his time feeding
his animal lust for the flesh,
he carries a subscription to Gesh,
that magazine so lewd.
However, I admit, he isn't rude.
Kenneth, a squire by profession,
gives to the poor in times of recession
as is required for knights in training.
He posesses a strange fear of rain,
cowering in mortal terror,
at every precipitory error.
But never will any ever chance to view
a more fervent devotee of a faith. He's a Jew.
Chivalrous, amiable, lacking pork,
When others use fingers he chooses a fork.
And yet he seems to bumble,
When compared to Sir Craig the Humble.
Strong of will, strong of body,
silent, stealthy, oh so holy.
The knight I fear would do away
with his mother if dared she stray
from the path of righteousness
such as creating a gandios Mess.
His arms rival the trunks arboreal
his visage glows brightly corporeal
and galliantly reflects his mail
the heavenly body as she sails
in her schooner, wreathed in flames.
And yet with skill, Craig claims no fame.
Although the man would be a saint,
were he not nearly always late
to every banquet, dinner, and birthdate.
And despite a large wart wears no mask.
Finally, we can be on our task.
Those mountains filled us with great haste.
We sought to find some sort of solace.
For Cyril froze our hearts cold,
the Godess said we'd not leave 'til he was old.
The fool yet didn't realize
he's already ancient to all our eyes.
Yet from his endless raves,
we spent the nights away from caves
opting 'stead to camp in the with the hope that
no misgiving fate would befall us with one eye open.
His maddening screams would keep creatures at bay.
| Moonsday, Januar 15th:
Venturing north, Sir Craig the Humble meets a red-headed shopkeeper in a town in East Nimoreh-Hakram.
Kenneth the Squire shares stories with him. The shopkeeper tells a dirty limerick.
We've arrived at a town called Yamak-Veigh.
Upon arriving it did reveal,
that the villagers ate naught but veal!
Sir Craig's blood was audibly boiling
as my stomach was painfully roiling.
Suddenly there came a mutter
as of an engine trying to stutter.
It seemed a man emerged from an edifice,
spouting something about Odeipus.
A foul poem struck our noble knight.
he drew his sabre, was prepared to fight
to the death in honor of
the Greek poets he lov'd.
Fearing something irreversible,
I grabbed and hurled a boiling crucible
that Christine was gleefully bubbling at.
It hurled through the air, gracefully as a bat,
struck sir Craig right on the noggin
Said I to him, "The fight ye be hoggin'!
Shadn't a good knight let the younger man battle?"
"Alright, if it will cease your endless prattle!"
Came the knight's reply much to my delight.
I quickly gestured and bade us all take flight...
| Twosday, Januar 16th:
Riding north, Sir Craig meets a bandit in a plain in East Nimoreh-Hakram.
Sir Craig the Humble battles the bandit to a pause--and then Sir Craig's hardiness overwhelms the bandit, but the bandit's swiftness outdoes Sir Craig, also the bandit's wiliness is too great for Sir Craig. Sir Craig the Humble has been defeated by the bandit!
In the melee, Cyril the Wise Man is injured!
Suddenly in the underbrush
a sudden flapping, a rocket-thrush
flew at sir Craig as if an arrow
and being that his frame weren't narrow
he was struck and fell to the earth.
Yet the cause of this was in the hearth.
Lo! A bandit lept from a fir
Christine attacked but he batted away her.
And struck our poor sage.
I could fill a page,
but it seems that my poorly crafted
ink from my quill pen has wafted
away. So let me be terse
I will attempt to limit my verse.
The brigand then slashed at Sir Craig
Alas our poor knight was attacked in the leg!
But grave were the gashes of Cyrils wounds
in a matter of minutes he was in swoons.
We were forced to make camp.
| Wedday, Januar 17th:
Sir Craig the Humble rests in a plain in East Nimoreh-Hakram.
Cyril the Wise Man dies of his injuries!
Yet the weather was damp.
I fear the rain that transpired
did cause Cyril to expire,
Now I can see with stunning ease
why Kenneth will remain on his knees
giving a prayer in his tent during storms.
His crys in the night have given us warn.
Our party dares not heed his call
Steadily we yearn for a hall
Where we can all drink mead.
Alas poor Cyril if only I could
write you an epic, you know that I would,
but this bloody flaming rotting infernal cursed pen keeps running out of ink!
| Thorsday, Januar 18th to Friarday, Januar 19th:
Sir Craig the Humble ventures to the west peacefully, from a plain in East Nimoreh-Hakram to a plain in Central Nimoreh-Hakram.
Forgive me, dear reader, but I must keep my writing short, and in disgusting prose. I've begun writing with my own blood, as that bandit stole all of my ink on that fateful day. We've all named it Cyril day, and will petition the king to make it national if we ever get out of these plains.
| Satyrday, Januar 20th:
Traveling west, Sir Craig comes upon a thug in a plain in Central Nimoreh-Hakram.
Sir Craig is unimpressed by the thug. Sir Craig the Humble has decapitated the thug!
Faint from bloodloss. Craig killed a thug with his hallowed Crest of the Yellow Kidneys. We all rejoiced.
| Sonday, Januar 21st to Thorsday, Januar 25th:
Sir Craig the Humble rambles to the north-west without incident, from a plain in Central Nimoreh-Hakram to a plain in North Nimoreh-Hakram.
Odd, there was an incident. I found a bottle of ink hidden under a rock with the note "From Elliot of Febuar 27th" Is that last year, or next year? Is he a chronomancer? I'm confused, and have lost my taste for poetry.
| Friarday, Januar 26th:
Journeying north, Sir Craig comes upon a thug in a plain in North Nimoreh-Hakram.
Sir Craig's force find no weakness in the thug, and the thug's speed matches Sir Craig's skill; yet Sir Craig's craftiness outdoes the thug. Sir Craig the Humble has defeated the thug!
Another thug loses his life. Sir Craig was humble when he said his fighting skills were "Alright." But he decapitated that thug with a club! We all give him praise, and chop our thugs into pieces, as Cyril would probably have wanted.
| Satyrday, Januar 27th:
Riding north, Sir Craig comes upon a bear in a woods in North Nimoreh-Hakram.
Sir Craig's wiliness is superior to the bear, and the bear's agility is countered by Sir Craig...yet the bear's hardiness outdoes Sir Craig. Sir Craig the Humble has been defeated by the bear!
In the melee, Christine the Apothecary is injured!
Christine suddenly had the urge to catch fish with her hands. Little did she realize that she was stealing a bears normal food supply. Suffice to say, the bear did't like it. Sir Craig jumped in to save the woman, who was arm wrestling the bear for control of the river. The bear clawed Sir Craig and then mauled Christine.
| Sonday, Januar 28th:
Sir Craig the Humble rests in a woods in North Nimoreh-Hakram.
Christine the Apothecary feels better!
I found another note from the mysterious Elliot, and what appears to be next month's lottery numbers. I'm guarding them for when we get out of this Goddess forsaken land.
| Moonsday, Januar 29th:
Trekking west, Sir Craig comes upon a thug in a plain in North Nimoreh-Hakram.
The thug's grace is too great for Sir Craig; in contrast Sir Craig's might outdoes the thug's force--and Sir Craig's wiliness overcomes the thug. Sir Craig the Humble has slain the thug!
Another thug dies in honor of the greatest wise man that ever walked the earth. I feel no remorse for this heartless fiend, for he stole from us something less refundable than coins. Our friend.
| Twosday, Januar 30th:
Trekking west, Sir Craig encounters a bear in a woods in North-West Nimoreh-Hakram.
The bear's skill outdoes Sir Craig, and the bear's energy overwhelms Sir Craig, however Sir Craig's resourcefulness overcomes the bear. Sir Craig the Humble has driven off the bear!
This bear was lured to camp by a thug steak, and chased away in memory of that other bear.
| Wedday, Febuar 1st:
Sir Craig the Humble ventures to the north peacefully through a woods in North-West Nimoreh-Hakram
Christine created some sort of encounter potion, which she states "Fudges the random number generator so that we get to fight more wimpy creatures." We've decided our remorse for Cyril has gotten to her.
| Thorsday, Febuar 2nd:
Journeying west, Sir Craig comes upon a bear in a woods in North-West Nimoreh-Hakram.
The bear's wisdom overcomes Sir Craig, but Sir Craig's skill overwhelms the bear's skill, also Sir Craig's toughness is superior to the bear. Sir Craig the Humble has slain the bear!
Maybe she's right... We all nod to Christine and her master skills. She says she studied the art of Twink, in Midgaard. We believe her.
| Friarday, Febuar 3rd:
Sir Craig the Humble reaches the swamp of North-West Nimoreh-Hakram and finds a deplorable troll. Sir Craig the Humble escapes from him!
In the melee, Kenneth the Squire is injured!
After 1 day, Kenneth the Squire feels better.
Alas, Christine's potion works the opposite on "Boss Characters", what ever they are. Christine explains "The Troll was generated with an AC abnormally high, therefore, he is, for all practical purposes, immortal." Kenneth wasn't paying attention and kicked the troll in the foot. The troll kicked back.
I'm going to go live lavishly off of the jackpot I won in the King's Lottery, and of course, I owe a portion to the mysterious Elliot, whenever I find him. I've given up barding for good, I think.
Sir Craig is going to go train to the music of Rocky and fight the troll again soon.
Christine is going to become a world class body builder.
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