Several moons have passed…

Encountered a radstag today. Majestic beast. Couldn’t help but launch into the tale of the “Dancing Stag Technique” – one of my finer monologues. The creature just stared, bewildered, then scampered off. At least it didn’t attack.

Stumbled upon the remains of an old campfire. Looks recent. Found a bottle, still half-filled with a strange brew. It’s no dwarven ale, but it warmed my insides. Left a note of thanks and a dwarven rune, just in case the traveler returns.

Mirehold’s not far now. The merchant’s tales spoke of a tavern, a place where stories flow as freely as the drinks. Perhaps I’ll find some work, and with a bit of luck, a decent drink to drown my sorrows.

Till the next chapter,

Brogar