I've been training almost constantly since my return, straight back into the usual long and daunting hours. I'm almost enjoying the sand burning my face and stinging my eyes now. After all, it gives me the much needed time for contemplating my up and coming decision on professions. When I originally began I was so dead set on being an Enchanter, mainly due to their ability to dance across clouds or what have you. But after watching the example set by many I've thought twice on being categorized with the associated personality. I'm defiantly not a Warrior, though I enjoy the odd bashing, I'm not all that interested in being labeled barbaric and slow witted. The amusing side of this is that any adventurer shouldn't be daft, it takes more than buff muscular structures to win a fight, let alone a war. I like the idea of being able to heal others, so being a Cleric was entertained for a few moments. I'd be quiet happy to follow some poor soul around all day healing them. But sadly I'm not much for the whole love and light, purity and holiness game. Of course this leads me to the profession of Rogue. I spend most of my time wondering in the shadows, a quiet loner on the fringe of society. My dark history, and my Dundee Inn antics seem to be suitable. Maybe another time I will write of my nights of dancing and all the plat I would make, it was actually rather lucrative, and I still have some of the gifts I was given by those young men. But I'll save that all for another night.

Another long day in the desert, another long day of contemplations.
In my time here I've seen the raise and fall of many things, the comings and goings of many peoples, and the rants and rage of Balthazar. I was there to watch the fall of a great city, and also there as one of the first to visit the Kings castle when it arose. There's a lot to contemplate about the past, in the hope of better understanding where we are all going.
Though one thing that has caught me up today is the constant questions about my sword, so here is the story of that ...
It was so long ago now that sadly I can not remember the name of the adventurer who showed me the way down into the depths of the sewers. I remember feeling lost and cold as I followed him threw the sewers, I'd never seen him before, but for some strange reason i'd made the quick decision to trust him. Well, to trust him enough to run around in the sewers with him. I don't remember any problems from Acid Jelly's or Sewer Rat's, all I remember is trying to hold my torch steady as I moved along the slipper and dingy tunnels. He told me to round the corner and slaughter whatever I saw. I took a deep breath, I remember this clearly because I was unsure of what kind of trap this could be. I don't even remember what it was I faced, the injuries I took, or how long I was there. But when it was all over I was holding a Glowing Mercenary Sword.

After a long and unexplainable absence I find myself yet again wondering through the endless desert in search of something to bash senseless, though I know my skill is rusty and my mind on other matters, the actions take away from my continuing deterioration of self.
There is a sense of complete loneliness in this harsh realm as it is, but to return from who knows where, with little to no memory of what went on during ones time there, well, it leaves me feeling even more cast out than before.
So I will simply pick myself back up off this sand and return to my collection of Giant Scorpion Stingers, unlike the people who waft in and out of my life at lest these have a permanent use.