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Jeirmun's Work Log

Author: 
Jeirmun

Didn't expect to find anything living down here—but Orcs, or something like Orcs, attacked us on sight. We pulled back to regroup. The mercenaries went ahead to clear a path.

* * *

Cinosarion is obsessed with these pale Orcs. I just want to sleep, but I can hear him muttering over one of their corpses. Disgusting.

Seems they are Orcs, after all, but they've been broken and changed. The Elf has a theory. He said the scarring suggests they were carved open and closed up, again and again. Some are missing limbs, or other parts. I don't want to know.

* * *

I can't sleep.

* * *

Glurbasha and Dorand are arguing again. He wants to push on. She wants to leave. Can't say I really blame her. There's something off about this place.

Dwarven ruins are always foreboding, but this one is different. The parts that open to the sky feel somehow oppressive. Threatening.

* * *

I keep catching a voice in the back of my head telling me I'm trapped here. That I'll never leave.
I need a drink.

* * *

Found a journal written by whoever cut up those pale Orcs. I can hardly comprehend what he has written. I'd show it to Cinosarion, but then I'd have to talk to Cinosarion.

* * *

I lost the journal. The constructs had ignored me, but ever since I picked up the journal I noticed they were watching me, following me. I tossed it down and hid in a cave—they stopped their pursuit.

I need to find my companions. I need to get out of here.

* * *

We should not have come to Rkindaleft.