Feh Entry 6
Post nex ergo propter nex.
Death comes quickly in the night, quickly in the day, quicker when no sight of either is at hand. The dungeonous magic of prison puts inmates at odds and hones the skill of the strong against the weak to further mayhem and dismemberment. Wrought with a passion to escape or to conquer, those amongst us in this place are the remnants of death. Theirs is the result of death and to death they will return, students where once they stood as teachers.
Dying graciously is unexpected, happens but is rare. Understanding of the predicament we share is rarer still yet with it we could live. The tenants of fear and ignorance swirl into a blind rage where seekers of the path of freedom tread. Entire religions and groupings of their faithful hold residency in this microcosm of existence, clearly by our experience in full understanding of their lot. Reason would dictate that their path is removed not far from our own and that passion places freedom above discord but realities fit reason like gloves fit feet.
Bastions of hope honed to fitful murder, we slog through minions of misfortune. Potential allies against our common captor end on the points of our mission. Practice is welcome in this time of trial but strength would be as much or more the adversary to our subject. Where now our path winds without guidance these sorry souls could have given direction to their own release. Sad and humbling is the blindness of the enemy. Pitiful and fretting in their ways.
Wonders, still, abound.
The bone munching morons expected are but shadows of these depths. The billowing bustling brine that lurk in darker places carry intelligence like spears and strike with both from behind the protection of life itself. What flora could exist in this place is beyond any reckoning I could have imagined. Yet here it is, helping and hurting and living within the bloody dungeon we traverse. As might be expected by ones so seasoned in the ways of crazy as we now are, life is life within these walls and even plants seek vengeance for their stay. Where trees stand tall and vines reach low, blood is pooled to make them grow.
We do not make this land our own or seek to live in places conquered by our wrath. To move along and find the rest is folly full enough. When bards are telling tales of us, as likely they will do, my hope is that the oddities will be impressed upon the ears they reach. In all my travels, all my trials, places odd as this are rare indeed. I’d like to say that we have found the worthy adversary sought by will, but this is likely not a truth. Better said that we are pawns which might, if luck allows, be tasked with laying low the evil king. To put the title ‘worthy adversary’ on his stone would be an arrogance on par with Belguard’s greatest twist.
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