Blank123

((The beauracy of the Halflings has failed the individual. The Halfling proletariat must rise against the elder's oppression! ? )) Trixie would momentarily pause in their reading. Briefly. they would wonder as to whether they shall join the Dunshire Drinking Night. After several moments they would decide that they cannot afford to miss it lest they ruin their reputation any further. Satisfied, Trixie's eyes would begin to drift back to the tome's words and madness would once again return.

Trixie peers through the window of their study, watching the strange Halfling scratch their head. They realise that they can hardly call another Halfling strange given their current situation. Muttering to themselves, they slink back down to their desk and continue to read with fervour.

Trixie’s Journal, a halfling’s desperate cry. - IV Me’ fingers drip along the worn pages o’ this tome as I whisper each an’ every word aloud. Each passage ‘as been burnt into me’ mind and a twisted smile graces me’ features. I ‘ave found some comfor’ in this madness which consumes me. The shadows o’ me study ‘ave morphed into twisted tentacle-like appendages. I ‘ave not seen one directly yet they wait jus’ in the corner of me’ eyes. I believe tha’ I shall understand these thin’s more once I delve deep’r into Arugula’s cruel embrace. [!] The journal’s page is greatly crinkled and from here on the once neat and cursive writing has changed to a rushed scrawl. The words o’ the tome are closed to me. Somethin’ bars me’ way, and I can longer devour the truth I ‘ave gorged m’self upon. I ‘ave to find a way to break these locks, these chains, which dare to keep me from me’ birthright. [!] The journal’s page is no longer quite so crinkled and the words are once again written in a neat cursive. Yet the words are not so confident as they once were, the handwriting is timid and lacking in confidence. I ‘ave unlocked the tome’s words, but it came at a price. Even as I write these words, fear and guilt gnaws away at me’ conscience. It all comes at a price, I should ‘ave noticed this sooner but me’ enthusiasm blinded me. When I firs’ read this tome me’ finger bled, I did not know why and I ignored it. I realise now that it was an offerin’, a sacrifice, but that same sacrifice is no longer enough. The firs’ sacrifice was done withou’ intention, in ignorance. The second, forced me to offer me’ blood with intention, with knowledge. I fear tha’ the next sacrifice will be more than jus’ a simple drop of me’ blood. A part o’ me screams to me tha’ I should find someone to ‘elp me, to save me. Yet I know tha’ I cannot turn me’ back on this path. I ‘ave seen too much and I cannot close me’ eyes. My fate is bound to this tome, to Arugula

Trixie’s Journal, a halfling’s ignorant fall. - III The accursed words o’ Arugula ‘ave changed me, o’ this I am certain. An anger I ne’er once ‘ad ‘as viciously blossomed in me’ heart. Madness ‘as made its abode within me’ mind and I am merely grateful tha’ it no long’r seeks to drag me further into its embrace. It is content to wait and watch as I damn me’self further. I am unable to cease me’ reading o’ the tome’s pages. I ‘ave read little, but I will continue to devour its archaic knowledge. It is no’ an easy journey, for each page I ‘ave read illuminates previous passages to me and I am forced to return to them. I canno’ stop, the way is now open to me and like a creature possess’d I delve further, deeper. How can I turn away from the truth when it sits innocently atop me’ desk? I am no’ sure wheth’r it is due to the tome’s presence, but a bligh’ came upon Dunshire this nigh’. I and the Deputy Sheriff, Angelica Woodstock, ‘ad been discussin’ the lack o’ Big’un raids and the ‘istory o’ Knoxism. I felt anger flourish within me as I ‘eard tha’ us ‘alflings were forced to become Cannonists les’ we desired to be put to the sword. A part o’ me fears that me’ ‘eresy will bring those same swords upon me. Angelica and I ‘ad scarced finished our conversation, when a ghas’ly scream consum’d the Dunshire Woods. We fled, to the village centre, waitin’ to see wha’ manner o’ creature ‘ad come to bring furth’r misery to Dunshire. A shadow’d figure drifted slowly towards us, and in its wake the bountiful wildlife o’ Dunshire turned to ash. Terror savagely grabbed me’ ‘eart and I ‘eard Angelica’s breath ‘itch besides me. Fortunately she is one o’ the bravest ‘alflings I know. She demanded tha’ the creature tell us why it ‘ad come to Dunshire, a peaceful village. The blackened monstrosity paused its glidin’, and what I could only barely call its face, turned to us. The insides of me’ mouth withered and me’ blood felt afire, yet a small part o’ me felt a damming desire. In desperation I whisper’d a prayer, it was only once I finished, tha’ I realised it ‘ad been to Arugula. I do not know wheth’r it is coincidence, I doubt it, but as soon as the words wormed their way from me’ mouth it began to rain. The creature laughed, drifting away, tellin’ us tha’ we were unworthy of its time. Perhaps we were or perhaps it fear’d me’ prayer. I know not, but I am drawn furth’r to the dark tome which sits upon me’ desk. If such a creature migh’ fear those words then perhaps the other Big’uns will too? Has the salvation of the ‘alfling’s come to me? Will the secrets of this tome finally save us from the Big’un menace? I ‘ope so. The madness within me has begun to move and I ‘ear its laughter echo throughout me’ mind.

(( I'm glad you all like it! More to come! I just happened to be browing the Halfling wiki and found Arugula the squidlord. Traps + Squids = Love ))

((Glad to hear it! ? ))

Trixie’s Journal, a halfling’s growing madness. I no long'r fear for me' fellow 'alflings, for 'ow can I when I can only fear for m'self? Me' mind may not 'ave been the sharpest in Dunshire yet I feel it weaken day by day. I 'ave searched the Dunshire Library for any 'int of answers, alas I found none. In desp'ration I travelled further afield, something I would never norm'lly do. A zeal grows within me and I yearn for the truth. I was ill-prepared for it. I pass'd through Cloud Temple and its bustlin' markets and followed the road North. I had scarced travelled far, when an odd Big’un 'proached me. His eyes were mad and I 'oped to avoid 'im as any respectable 'alfling would, but me' endeavour was futile. He grabb'd me' arm, roughly frayin' me' jacket, before thrustin' an old tome into me' shaking 'ands. His putrid breath turned me' stomach, but t'was 'is vicious, knowin', smile which terrified me. His mouth moved against me' ear and whisper'd words I 'ad no comprehension of. I broke away, runnin', all the while failin' to avoid 'is tongue as it slithered along me' ear. I fled as if the legions of hell themselves chased me and as far as I was concerned they were. As I returned to Dunshire I found m'self clutchin' the tome. I was skittish as I passed me' fellow 'alflings and I fear that I may begin to tarnish me' reputation as an upstandin' 'alfling. Once I was within the safety of me' burrow, I placed the tome upon the desk within me' study. I refused to open the tome and instead went about enjoying the afternoon. A pleasan' lunch and a nice pipe within me' garden almos' set the world to righ'. Alas, I could neve' find peace, always a silent call dragged me' thoughts to that damned tome. Nevertheless, I stayed strong and retired to bed. Over the next several days I fough' against temptation incarnate. I threw m'self into the Dunshire community in the 'ope that the darkness and me' curiosity would leave me. Yet each pint I drank tasted o' dust. Each pipe I lit left me coughin'. Every bite I ate tasted rotten. The laughter of me' fellow 'alflings tormented me. I could no longer bring m'self to visit the tavern or force m'self to talk with me' friends. Soon me' neighbours began to give me odd looks and I 'eard whispers as I strode pass'd them. I no longer left me' burrow. Surrounded by shadows and nightmarish nights I turned to me' only salvation, the mindless 'aze o' Cactus Green. I was rarely without me' Hoo-kah to me' lips. Its fumes permeated throughout me' burrow and I lived a 'alf life, ne'er truly awake nor truly asleep. It was not to las', soon me' supply o' cactus began to dwindle. As the cactus 'aze lifted, me' dreams quickly deteriorat'd to nightmares. After one particularly unsettling series of dreams I marched into me' study. The moon’s light was 'idden and so I lit a candle, placing me' hands on the damned tome. Dust and old age 'id the tome’s title from me, I turned to the first page and saw me' damnation before me. “Arugula.” The foreign word crawled from me' tongue. Me' finger caressed the beguilin' word on the ancient papyrus. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain, me' finger bled. The shadows grew within me' study and the candle offered little 'elp. Fear grips me' heart and madness claws me' mind.

Trixie’s Journal, a halfling's troubled thoughts. Me' thoughts 'ave been dark o' late. Such a thing is 'ardly comm'n 'mongst us 'alflings and thus I find m'self with a desire to document me' thoughts. I 'ope that in doin' so I may yet stave off this madn'ss, alas deep within me, I know such 'ope be foolish. I should explain the source o' these thoughts, les' I should one day come to forget. I was a member o' the small but stalwart Fellowship o' the Tankard. I joined more ou'tta curiosity r'ther than any moral obligation. After all, this cursed tankard was 'ardly the responsibility o' any proper 'alfling. No doubt some big’un sought to stir trouble in Dunshire, sadly they succeeded far more than I think they ever 'oped to. I 'ave no desire to write about tha' which occurred during our adventure, for other, far better, 'alflings 'ave done so. All I 'ave te' say is tha' it ended in tragedy and we los' a great member of our community, a Mr Hobbs Burrows. He was a good 'alfling yet in the end the power of the tankard caused 'im to take 'is own life. In 'is final moments 'e was a man possessed. Yet in 'is madness 'e tol' us somethin' important, Mr 'obbs killed a man to gain this tankard. No 'alfling would act with such zeal and barbarity. Yet I do not know wheth'r 'e spoke truly or wheth'r the madness of the tankard had distorted 'is memories. 'owever, it is not for 'obbs that I fear, for 'e 'as left us. No, it be for the othe' members that me' fear grows. This adventure 'as changed all o' us and I doubt it is for the bett'r. The shadows within me' burrow grow both deeper and more sinister. I feel a call, yet I know not to whom or what it belongs to.