Life was easier before I stopped drinking. At least when I was four sheets to the wind there was a reason I didn’t understand what was going on around me. Now that I’m clear-headed, I just get confused a lot and NabaYo Kinderhookianyells at me. Fair Nabayo, she has no idea how I feel about her. I know she hates humans, and I think she especially hates me sometimes, but I cannot get her out of my mind. The meaner she is, the more I like her. I think there’s a word for that, but I don’t know what it is. I’ll have to ask Donaldinho Yorgelater. At any rate, Donaldino has been encouraging me to express my feelings through writing and what he called “the poet’s art” and not through my axes. He said it would be “anger management.” I don’t really know what that means. I thought I was managing my anger pretty well on those orcs? I guess that’s just something he picked up along the way. Donalidino is so good at controlling his emotions and never doing anything to put the group at risk through reckless action, not like stupid old Woodbine. I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on myself for not understanding, Donaldino is truly a genius, and I am a simple man thrust into an unusual situation.
Still, I guess I should get to the point, Diary. Thunderhead Gloamingborn, the bravest dwarf I’ve ever met, and I have become half-members of Sentinel’s Hall. We will have a job tomorrow at 6 AM which should prove interesting. We will have to complete our assignments as a unit, but I know that there is nothing that can stop us when we put our heads together. Thunderhead feels deeply, we all know that, but I think he has a soft spot for me, unlike Nabayo. Sigh. Scratch seems to know more about my feelings than he lets on, but that’s classic Scratch for you. I think it’s safe to say that the Faterinos are my best friends and would never let anything bad happen to me. I would gladly die for any one of them if necessary. Even Nabayo, cruel as she can be, stopped to help me when I stumbled in that damned lair beneath the lake. If she didn’t care, why would she stop for me……? Sigh again. Perhaps I’ll ask Donaldino to teach me a love potion one of these days.
Anyway, after getting orders to meet up with Cassot the next morning, we headed over to the tanneries to see if we could track down the fiends from last night. They gave us the run around, but something wasn’t quite right over there. After Nabayo spent some quality time with Buckles, that damned bear who I am quite sure hates me and knows exactly how I feel about Nabayo, we headed to the granary to find out about someone called Heliosh, an almost mythical fighter/rebel within the city. Some people say he isn’t real. It makes me a bit nervous, but I try not to show it around the guys. I want them to think I’m awesome, you know, Diary?
As it turned out, Donaldino was able to learn that Heliosh really does exist, and that he grew up under a different name in The Fringe where he draws fighters and robbers to him. It seems like maybe he’s the guy running the show, the guy Luvneihas been looking for. Part of the problems seems to be that people from the Fringe protect him and keep him hidden from outsiders. There also seems to be rumors that he leads raids on other districts and burns people alive. They say he’s wrapped in rags when he goes out to hunt. Lord, what would father say about all this? He’d say nothing. He’s dead and I avenged his death thanks to the Faterinos. No matter what happens, I owe them.
In the Fringe, Donaldino, with an assist from Nabayo, performed a beautiful song called, “Jer Majesty is a Very Nice Boy.” Very catchy, great bridge, I think this one could really get some play. Anyway, as this was going on, Scratch found himself in a bit of a pickle, provoking a fight with a clown faced man, part of Heliosh’s gang it seems, who has been selling the Flaming Brain to the poor citizens of the Fringe. Scratch almost got taken out, but he escaped, as he does. We all ran to catch up with the fiend, but a HUGE battle erupted. After one of our fiercest battles ever, we managed to slay our assailants, take a few of the injured captive, including one called Zweezo. He had a tattoo on his wrist and smelled of the tannery. I think I know where we are headed soon. I look forward to interrogating the survivors. To think, they tried to kill us, THE FATERINOS, defenders of Good, friends to the animals! The mere thought of it makes me sick. I try to stop the sickness, but it won’t stop, it frightens me…but I like it.
It’s just sometimes, things go red and warm. I start to feel jumpy and queasy and everything goes a little wobbly and I just get so FUCKING ANGRY AT EVERYTHING. I WANT TO RAPE AND PILLAGE AND FUCK THE VERY LIFE OUT OF EVERYONE WHO GETS IN OUR FUCKING WAY. I DON’T CARE ANYMORE, I JUST DON’T. IF ANY OF THESE MISERABLE PISS-FILLED SHITBRAINED COCKSUCKERS GETS IN OUR WAY, I WILL SMASH THEM. I WILL IMPALE THEM ON THE END OF MY COCK. I WILL TURN THEIR ASSHOLES INSIDE OUT AND FUCK THEM BACK TO NORMAL. ST. CUTHBERT, GOD OF RETRIBUTION, HEAR YOUR SON’S WICKED CRY AND GIVE ME THE STRENGTH TO REND AND TEAR! I WOULD SLIT THE THROAT OF THE WORLD IF I COULD!!!!!!!!!
Diary? What happened? I don’t remember writing that…that filth above. Please help me contain this anger, I just want to be normal. Father always said I had a bit of the barbarian in me, but can it be controlled? I just want a family and a picket fence and a half-elf wife with a bad attitude and a wicked smile……but such is not the destiny of a Faterino. The destiny of a Faterino is a shallow grave in a potter’s field, and maybe, if we’re lucky, a song or two about our deeds played in the darkest of taverns. I can live with that.
Perhaps Donaldino was right. I feel better after writing this. The heat inside me is gone. Everything is cool again.
With all sincerity of heart,