Notes for my therapist-entry 1

ENTRY-13

Your very welcome! For what you might ask? A couple of weeks ago I was tempted by plentiful ale and sturdy women to take a trip to a little known village a friend happened upon. When we got there we saw a sizable raiding party charging in so we ran them off. The townsfolk claimed that it was the third time that week and they would do anything to stop them. So, I sent my friend to tracking and boy did we find them. There were orcs, goblins, hobgoblins, bugbear and a few unholy offspring that were big, strong and had the littlest brainpan I'd ever seen. If it weren't for their faces they wouldn't need a head.
As we were making a plan we heard drums, horns and singing that only a mother could love and a dev could appreciate. We noticed it started getting dark, even though there wasn't a cloud in the sky, also the sun was leaving odd shapes in the shadows from the canopy of the trees, so plan or no plan I charged in and had to put an end to whatever ritual they were performing. I've never seen magic that strong before. I went from one side of the camp to the other several times chopping, hacking, slashing and if the fight got too thin, I just charged a group that was too scared to approach me, I can't say that I blame them. The fight went on for quite some time and I have to admit, it wasn't looking good. It kept getting darker, so I started singing a Dwarven war song about coming out from the mountains and into the light, appreciating the sparkle of steel as it reflected so bright, how inset gem twinkled in pommel and hilt and covered in crimson when all enemies were kilt. Lo and behold, the sun started fighting back as well, the forest grew brighter and I was running out of thing to slaughter. My friend said he mostly fired at the ones who ran, but I heard the wiz of an arrow and the hum of his bow to know that not all of his targets were fleeing. The fires were out and the forest was going to feast on intruders for a while, so we went back to the town.
A couple men went to see if our story checked out and came back looking different, like what they saw changed them, they confirmed everything and locked themselves in their houses, never saw them once during the 3 day festival. Some people asked them to come out but they never did. That town knows how to throw a real shin-dig, mugs that never emptied, platters of beef, ham, mutton, chicken and a few things I couldn't identify but tasted like chicken.
I think that in a few hundred years when my axes have dulled, my boots have worn through and my beard has lost all it's color, I might like to retire there. Maybe those raiders will come back by then and my old bones can have a little fun, or maybe I'll get eaten by a dragon next week. Let's roll the dice and see where fate takes me.
 
ENTRY-14

Sorry I've been gone a while, I found a new place to drink, laugh and get tossed in a cell. Who knew the city guard had a place where all of them go after work to blow off a little steam in normal clothes? Everyone there was complaining about the commoners, the people that are taxed to pay them to fix problems although some times it just seems like they only listen to the ones that throw them the most money, bought and paid for.

Back to my story, I tells them "Boo hoo, go cry at home!" and then a huge fight breaks out. Just like a few others of you, I have saved the known world and a few cities, great and small, more than a few times and after beating the day shift with nothing but closed fists, clamped tightly to a chair and for a short time a table leg, I have come to realize that they make furniture better for that place.

After a few months, they sent me to the magistrate and they fined me. Of course I had the money, paid the court and now I avoid that bar. I walked passed and a few guards still have broken noses pressed to one side of their face, lumpy bruised heads that look like they have an orc grandad in their family tree and limps, that furniture was really well made.

Until they need me, I have a rune strapped to my ankle so the city mages can track me. No one wants the job of following me around town after that last fellow woke up in a ships bilge half way across the ocean, I can spot them like a rogue. I guess I'll relax for a while, eat some good food and leave the head splitting for another day.
 
ENTRY-15

Feels good to stretch me legs and put an axe to use. One of me clan is well on his way to being able to wear some very powerful equipment that will aid him in his offensive casting, crowd control and summoning those creepy undead. Like that shadowy cloud and floating around wasn't bad enough, he has a pet skeleton warrior and a lich keeping him safe. Why can't he just hire someone from those guys you see everywhere like a normal person.

(Talking to myself) Calm down, this is why we were asked to attend therapy, well that and throwing people off the guildship, but I thought everyone had feather falling boots. I never laughed so hard as when that one fellow made a people shaped hole in that cloud, true story.

Anyway, so I'm in the Sharn Cogs trying to gather up a few items he's missing and I swear I checked the same chest four or five times when low and behold, there they are, how could I be so blind as to not see them the first few times I looked. I hope he appreciates me helping and looking out for him. I try to take care of all of my clan and my guildmates, not that he needs it, if he gets into any real trouble he'll take off alive or dead with that Jibber's Blade run through him. Guess I'll leave it on his bunk, when I see him wearing his new digs I'll smile or grunt or something, I don't know how to talk dead.
 
Had to get some fresh air after the cogs, melting ore, sewage and whatever that green stuff was was making it hard to sprint in full plate. So I ended up on this island, seemed nice, lots of trees, ruins and really mad lizards of all sizes. I took a ride around to do a little exploring and while the coast was nice, the inner part of the island was Dreadful. There were swamps smelling like a hundred year old bathroom, volcanoes surrounded with undead that had an aroma of burnt flesh and liquid ore which is similar to the stink of the tar pits. The villages were high and upwind of the less favorable scents of the island and while riding I was able to get in a bit of exercise by smashing a few heads of some dumb animals, did I mention there were ogres? The big lizards were feisty and didn't like me pulling their tail, but I've had less fun on vacation.
 
ENTRY-16

T'was the night before solstice and all through the realm,
not a character was stirring except of course Helm.
The coins had been stacked on me ship in the air,
to trade for the cookies when The Traveler is there.

The necromancers raise and enhance their undead,
while illusionist make images to mess with your head.
Malicia's armor consists of a hat,
(CTRL+P) (CTRL+P) my dreams will be cap,

When out on the deck there arose such a clatter,
I grabbed up my axe to see who I could batter.
I ran up the stairs not a sound just a dash,
just to see whose head I would get to bash.

The moon up above and the city below,
torches and lanterns were all set a glow.
And what do my destructive tendencies see,
a white bearded Dwarf dressed in red showing glee.

With edibles a plenty and cookies galore,
the Traveler has plenty but I wanted more.
The cookies were firm and the cakes soft as silk,
I wanted to eat all of them with some milk.

Arraetrikos, beholder, black abbot, abishai,
Dal Quor, fernia, hezrou, Lolth, Xyzzy,
From the Traveler's bag right into my jar
I'm going inside to eat at the bar.

A clean table that once was before the whirlwind of one man,
now covered in magic crumbs the chaos now began.
He ran down to the caverns and dungeons he knew.
to the ogres and demons and devils he slew.

And there as a twinkle began in his eye,
all new inhabitants started to die.
With a new axe drawn out for display,
they all got the hint and started running away.

Now covered in fur, innerts and blood,
He spit out an arm which hit with a thud.
With a bag of holding he scooped up the loot,
proud of the carnage he gave out a hoot.

His eyes did not twinkle more of a fiery blaze,
a red mist filled the air like a crimson haze.
broken nose a few ribs and breathing was weak,
a beard that feels matted and needs a wash in the creek.

Villages and bodies all burned in a pyre,
the reek of ashes and smoke preceded the fire
The smells and the grime will wash off with a bath,
but that's in six or eight months I'm not good at math

Grumbling and onery a typical Dwarf,
one might cringe at the sight of him despite of themself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
lead me to believe that they were all dead.

Doesn't really talk just mumbles and curses,
Rolling the bodies and emptying purses.
Bringing his hand to the side of his nose,
he cracked that thing straight man that was gross.

He shook off the pain as his nose gave a whistle,
cracked it again to the sound of a missile.
I heard him curse loudly as he walked away,
wonder if they'd taste better if they used grounded fey.

-Flaggon Kegslayer, fighter(no foreseeable bard lives)
 
ENTRY-17

I think I need a bit more barbarian in my back story. I could use the health benefits, the intimidation techniques and the focused release of anger through rage, but I can see the usefulness in it. Afterwards, perhaps I should reel in the rest of my emotions by training with Warforged and learning not to be so controlled by the emotions I do have.

As a Dwarven warrior, leader of my guild, protector of my clan and head of the drinking table, it is my duty to be as powerful as possible. Yet living with Elves, thieves, casters, cats, or Gnomes hardly seems the warrior's way. I can see the usefulness in learning from Dragonborn, Half-orc, bear-form druids, smiting paladins even some types of clerics, but I just can't bring myself to live as a bard.

I live a warrior's life of strong armor, good steel, anticipation of fighting progression and the ability to keep fighting after everyone else is knackered and ready to call it quits. I will brush off most injuries, get my second wind and rise up to defeat any foe feeling ten feet tall with health to spare. I keep the fight going while others are healing or being raised, I keep fighting when the odds aren't looking so great and I keep fighting in this life and the next against living, undead, magical, tyrannical, gigantic, demonic and iconic, in a single fight, arena or raid, with or without reapers and I will fight again tomorrow, because that is what warriors do.

The sooner my therapist (a Gnome with lots of books) realizes this, the better off all of us will be.
 
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