This morning began with the worst headache I’ve experienced. Everyone if telling me I was out for a day. What a ridiculous and obvious prank! What do they think, that I’m only 50 years old?
The religious drifter fellow from the ship has a bandolier just like the one I received yesterday. He talked to a pink haired gnome, also wearing one, and addressed me as though I wasn’t there. He showed me the intricate rifling of his pistols’ barrels, could be a threat? I feel he might not like me for some reason. Considering his accent, maybe all Khorvarians are racist. It certainly fits the trope of such an insular, warring continent.
Purely by virtue of wearing a magical bandolier and a common sense of confusion, we decide to stick together. I followed them to the gate and left the city. The guard was nice, warning us about the danger out in the wilderness.Can’t be bothered finishing. Next character will be more warlike.