Atlas Entry 5
Men were not born to this world to walk upon ice. For two hours, we fought an eladrin woman, a bitch of frost. Her lackeys died in the first ten minutes. Alteris fell, his face planted firmly to the cold ice floor, and flailed about like a suffocating hell carp for the following twenty. Horatio made it across the damned room, Baldin trailing only a slight behind. That was when we found out the slut whore could teleport.
At least seven times, perhaps eight, I looked at Alteris, flopping or twitching, something like a half-broken and bloodied insect on the ice. Baldin had trudged onward, the most stable legged of the party, I think once making twenty feet, before falling. His dwarven rage carried him through, of which I am too grateful for. Though the harlot blinded Baldin with sleet and hail, he’d proclaimed that he could smell her cunny. She had no chance. -Atlas
Atlas Entry 6
We traded a white dragon a magical toga for the last soul essence of Vyrellis. Easy as pie. -Atlas
Atlas Entry 7
Journal, I apologize. In my previous entry, I lied to you.
Anyway, the soul of Vyrellis reformed, our body-less companion promised her help in the final battle and took her leave of us. A few of us were disappointed. I, however, took a bit of solace in that. When a benefactor promises something of that caliber, you take it, and you focus on the task at hand. In the arena, you kill the other guy, and you kill them well. That’s how the rewards come. That’s how you gain the favor of the crowd.
The third floor’s a bit shadowy. We managed into a trap room, noxious gases emitting from candlesticks, and a door made of crude magical force. We managed to stop the gases and burst the door down before it could do us lasting damage. However, I found out that holding a candlestick down and stable with both hands, for an ally to hit it, is not the greatest idea. It was a much better idea to instead jam the candlestick with both hands up Horatio’s ass. Perhaps the fumes blocked his vision. Perhaps his life flashed before his eyes, or something distracted him at the last moment, and that was the reason why he missed the inanimate object.
At any rate, we’re continuing our exploration of the third floor. I have a feeling that we will soon find glory. Whose name will the crowd scream the loudest? Life is excitement and anticipation. -Atlas