The Chronicles of Hugo Neversoft and Lawoddle-woddle.
Woddie woke me up with a lick on the cheek. I punched her down. I hate it when dogs do that, now I have to wash my face in the river. I gave Woddie her dog treat and she was quite perky again, and so we set off.
The battle the night before was quite a work out, one of the monks actually cut me with their katana. Too bad; Woddie hates it when I bleed, she has to rip the throat out of whoever does it. Quite a mess.
We ran into some bandits as we approached Westcliffe, my mace met one of their faces and crushed his skull instantly; some flesh hit the ground and Woddie ate it. How I hate that dog; why cant I have a normal dog that barks instead of whining. It's like the mutt's a vampire, constantly ripping the flesh from my victims. Oh well.
We cleared up the loot from what was left of the bandit's corpses, and set trail again. We set up camp about 4 miles from Westcliffe; quite a hike would be upon us the next day.
It's getting dark now, so I'm afraid this is where my diary entry closes. A cold, wet day so it was this passing day. I don't know why I still work with this diary, oh well; habits are habits.
[As Hugo goes to sleep, a bandit comes across their slumber; a blood thirsty look in his eye. He walks toward Hugo and his sleeping companion, drawing his blade silently.]
To be continued?
Woddie woke me up with a lick on the cheek. I punched her down. I hate it when dogs do that, now I have to wash my face in the river. I gave Woddie her dog treat and she was quite perky again, and so we set off.
The battle the night before was quite a work out, one of the monks actually cut me with their katana. Too bad; Woddie hates it when I bleed, she has to rip the throat out of whoever does it. Quite a mess.
We ran into some bandits as we approached Westcliffe, my mace met one of their faces and crushed his skull instantly; some flesh hit the ground and Woddie ate it. How I hate that dog; why cant I have a normal dog that barks instead of whining. It's like the mutt's a vampire, constantly ripping the flesh from my victims. Oh well.
We cleared up the loot from what was left of the bandit's corpses, and set trail again. We set up camp about 4 miles from Westcliffe; quite a hike would be upon us the next day.
It's getting dark now, so I'm afraid this is where my diary entry closes. A cold, wet day so it was this passing day. I don't know why I still work with this diary, oh well; habits are habits.
[As Hugo goes to sleep, a bandit comes across their slumber; a blood thirsty look in his eye. He walks toward Hugo and his sleeping companion, drawing his blade silently.]
To be continued?