Wesphalia's Diary, Entry
Truce Canyon
November 3 of the year 322
Mana Holy Day
There's a lot that can be interred from a rock. Looking at its shape,
its size, its smoothness... where did it come from? Did it fall from
there? Maybe a fragment of a bigger rock... a huge rock! Maybe it
came from some statue somewhere. Can a rock fall from the void?
If so, I wonder what kind of shape and smoothness it would have.
Don't you agree, impy? Hey, imp! Are you even listening?
--
My name is Wesphalia. I've been wandering these wildlands for several weeks now, and I felt compelled to start a journal. Not just for my own thoughts... well, actually, it is just for my own thoughts.
"So, what name do go by? Mr. Imp? Mr. Imp, sir?"
A Green Imp puts his fingers in his ears and makes faces at me!
"Ah, you always do that. Want a muffin? I've got a spare."
"Bleecck! Me kill you good!"
It all went downhill from there. I try to be polite, but the imps try
to cause death for me. At least it's them that always dies, not me.
Maybe imps tend to get dropped as babies? Oh well, that's a story
for a different day. There's some city nearby here, and, with any
luck, I'll be there in a few days.
Maybe I can sell them some rocks?