Greetings, thing that is not food.

The Food-giver and Firemaker is unable to scribble its words into you today. A rock has fallen on its head.

Rejoice. For I, Julius, will now grace you with my words and presence.

Long have I walked this land. Never before have I met such a being as the Food-giver. It is a great warrior, worthy of pillaging beside me, and yet it seems to find no pleasure in the spoils. It throws itself into battles almost without provocation. An odd quality in its kind. Most shy from violence and danger like shade from the sun. The Firemaker embraces and enhances any danger it finds. This is foolish, but not as foolish as blind fear.

I sometimes wonder if the Food-giver desires the End, and simply seeks a worthy place and foe to grant it. For we seem to traipse idly from one danger zone or battlefield to another. Today we found a desolate and rotted land. It clearly held no food or shining treasure. Yet the Firemaker entered it. The black lands split and rotted beings crept and crawled out of the shattered tortured earth. We met them with fire and fury.

Endless legions met endless fire. They tired before we did.

All that remains there now is a scorched and pitted wasteland. The Small One Who Pets did not seem to enjoy the fervor of battle. Or perhaps it was just the smell of burning rot it took offense to. Regardless, it and the Wise One stayed back and mopped up the stragglers.

The Food-giver stood in the battlefield. Eyes open but unseeing. Tortured was its visage as it gazed into the war within itself.

I do not wish to know what it saw there. In its heart.

We had not hardly left the battlefield when The Firemaker tried to scale a easily avoided cliff. A foul wind blew a rock from its summit and so The Food-giver was struck down. It lies now in the safety of my vessel.

The Tyrant is a fine gift. One I have never seen the likes of before. The Firemaker twitches and mumbles as it rests. Seeming to argue with something.

The green around the cliff was good. Sweet and dry, as it should be. A foolish Long Antlered One sought to claim my green. The Sister Who Walks On Two Legs and The Braider Of Treasure feasted upon its scorched remains.

Such is the fate of all those who would dare to cross me!

May the smoke of its demise spread far, and warn the foolish not to test my mercy.

For I have none.

*****

Hiya Mr. Book! So Julius is kinda intense huh?

I like how he gives us all these odd little titles instead of names. I am pretty sure I'm the Wise One, because duh.

Like Julius said though we found a black gross pit of yuck and dead things came crawling out of it. Nope, not dealing with that so I just sat back and smacked anything that got too close. Big sis Onica watched my back so I was 100% safe!

Then big bro started acting all weird. Weirder than usual even!

He just kept walking in a straight line until he hit a steep but small cliff. We tried to get him to go the ten feet to the left that would have let us just avoid an annoying climb, but nope! He just wouldn't listen! Now he has a huge lump on his head and Julius had to cook dinner. Burnt elk isn't all that tasty. So I snagged a couple of frostberries for dessert.

Big sis said she would take first watch so I am going to bed.

Bye-bye Mr. Book

*****

Greetings holder of words. Today the Fool was even more foolish than normal. Lena and Julius have regaled you with tales of his idiotic exploits already. So I will not continue to blow wind in your ear.

What they did not tell you is how the Fool led us to the dead battlefield. We were on a course that would have missed it entirely when he simply froze for a second and bolted off in a completely different direction.

It was all we could do to follow him. He can move very swiftly when he wants to. Luckily he leaves a trail a blind Rheznor could follow. Literal foot and handprints of fire. Digging into solid stone and smouldering trees.

We arrived to find him already engaging the undead. Julius charged forth to join in the slaughter, and Lena hung back in the splash free zone. I like my fur and flesh unsinged, so I stayed with her.

The Fool was like a man possessed today. If he does not snap out of it by dawn I will try Baba Tigras remedy for the cursed. A swift blow to the back of the head with a hard stick.

I have never seen a possessed being rise again after one of those. Baba Tigris has arms like tree trunks.