20 Kythorn 1374
Not for the first time in my life, I’m not entirely sure how I got to be where I am. Am, in this case, appears to be under a table in a Silverymoon pub, surrounded by empty flagons of mead, with sleeping rat beside me.
Since this is most certainly not a spider-infested forest, I can only assume that I’ve been celebrating our safe return to civilization. No doubt it will all come to me when my brain clears, possibly with the aid of several large doses of that most valuable of elixirs, Mrs. McGuddle’s Purple Patented Clearhead (assuming I can find it this far from Waterdeep).
I did, however, have a dream–one in which the events of the past days (or, it appears, months) were filtered through the eyes of Prof. Sniddle, Tip’s ever-present familar and my apparent drinking companion. From his most perceptive of rat perspectives, it would seem that our time since entering the Dwarven mines was spent something like this:
jostle, jostle, jostle (boom)
(yay, cheese–thanks, hairyfoot)
trudge, jostle, trudge, trudge
arghhhh! fight, fight fight
“No Arnold?” What’s “No, Arnold!” ?
fraak! fight, jostle, fight
argh! fight fight
flee, flee, flee
fight, fight, trudge, fight, run, zwaaaap, trudge, fight, trudge
frak, dragon! what, no eat me? yay.
need cheese. damn, no cheese
jump. frak! ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh…………..
frak! oh nooooooo……….. (scuttle, scuttle, jostle, thump)
Tip? Tip? Tip? Tip?
baldy? baldy? baldy? oh, baldy…
hairyfoot needs a bath.
oh frak! fight, fight, flee
trudge/fight/trudge (it gets hazy here)
yay! cheese! mead!