I feel worse over time as my headache grows and my throat dries out. There is a knot in my back, or two… it’s hard to be sure when I feel like I am beginning to cramp all over. The stiffness in my legs keeps me off balance as much as the pounding within my skull. Wine does not help.
Balthandar has all but forgotten the strife between Bolton and Starlark as he focuses his attention on my care. He watches me closely and keeps me drinking water all day. I have yet to relieve myself, however, and I fear I am horribly dehydrated.
I can barely sense those who seek us any longer, but Dionus has become deeply concerned. He says they are drawing closer to us with every passing hour. I wish I didn’t feel so ill, it leaves me vulnerable and useless to detecting any expressionists nearby.
But they are coming, that much is certain.
Gods, my head.
I can’t focus. Writing this is taking too much energy.
I will resume tomorrow. Senida, on the Akari Grasslands. We must get there.
We accidentally saved a small village today. I say accidentally because we had no idea we were saving them until the killing was done.
I can’t write for long at once… my head pounds so loudly I can barely hear the jungle come alive with the darkness. I will try to be concise.
We are moving more quickly. Whoever hunts us draws closer every day. We fear it is the KoraKora. I wish I knew more about those beasts. Those wretched traitors to humanity.
I feel sick, like retching and being pulled into myself all at once.
There were bandits ahead of us, Dionus sensed them. He sensed them long before they knew we were there. We attacked.
There was no sense in sneaking past. We would have been forced a long way around. We might have been seen. Had to fight regardless. So we killed them.
They were sacking a village, one sitting on a small river. A tributary winding back towards Graylag. The villagers thanked us.
I don’t… we didn’t know they were there until they were thanking us. They gave me a necklace, to protect… to guard us from evil. It is blue stone… has a blue stone, carved like a wave in a turtle. They must worship turtles?
We did not stay, could not. We must move.
I can barely move. Gods… I am so sick. Trough water is as good, but can’t see for the trees.
Oh gods, did I really write that? It seemed so clear a moment ago… I must sleep. We must move tomorrow.
He is a nightmare. A living nightmare. The chief of the KoraKora.
I saw him.
Covered in yellow. Pierced with bones. So many bones.
He has a massive headdress. His eyes – they are the eyes of a Daedric priest, but with such power. A different power. A real strength.
Yellow paint. Yellow teeth. Yellow, bloodshot eyes.
The KoraKora attacked us. They press us onward, surrounding us. Forcing us to the river. We escaped once. Maybe twice.
I cannot remember anything except running. Terror. Yellow.
Gods… I can barely see. The world a fog. Can’t sleep… we must run again.
A nightmare. He is a living nightmare.
The trees are so cumbersome. No. The trees are so tall, I am so… I feel so cumbersome. Gods, I can barely write. It takes so much
My pen wanders the page and… and I can’t see
I can’t see. My head pounds. It hurts.
Drink all I can. Sweat… sweating now… on the page, and I try but I can’t.
I want to, but I can’t.
There are so hot. I can’t breathe. Darkness is too.
Lystra… why did you have to be so brave? So foolish…
I can’t feel them… Dionus says they’re coming. They are near. They attacked earlier. We ran.
We will must rest. Such can’t exhaustion…
I can’t feel them.
I’m scared. So scared… alone.
Why Lystra? Gods… why?