As I sit here, in this pit, I think back on the events that led me here. They’re a little fuzzy thanks to my accidental rage and the subsequent beating I received. The plan, as I remember it, was sound. Apparently I still have much to learn about controlling my blood lust. I will have to work on it not only for my sake, but for the sake of my companions. Poor Jhale.
Well, what’s done is done. Now I concentrate all my inconsiderable diplomacy skills escape, and on our guard(this is barbaric sarcasm, if you didn’t know). Despite my attempts at polite conversation (something I really have to work at sometimes), he wont’ say more than a few words. I look forward to crushing his windpipe. Unfortunately for them, I haven’t made an effort to tell any of them apart. So I guess this encounter ends with all of them having crushed windpipes.
Oops. I must control my bloodlust… Be as the calm before the storm.
I pray that this time through, I will have enough of my head about me to follow the plan, and direct the Fearg in a direction that is, if not helpful, at least not detrimental to escaping. Whatever that plan may be… Jhale has been unnaturally silent, and I am not a planner. I am a beat stick, and proud of it. Hopefully he’s thinking up the best possible way to beat people with me, so that we can get out of here.
Optionally I could try slashing my way out, mix things up a little.