Day …
Woke up in somebody’s basement. Can’t remember what day it is. Or even what year, for that matter. Good news, I reached my target weight. Bad news, I think I missed the millennium celebrations.

Hmm. Whoever owns this basement really seems to have let themselves go recently.

Day 1 
Bought a new pocket diary for latest adventure. May as well start on ‘Day 1’ again. Why is it my diaries never get anywhere? Is it me? Do I lack motivation?
Some big squid said hi. Wants me to do something for him. Won’t tell me exactly what it is, no matter how much I whine. All he does is looks shifty and mumble something about ‘trafficking’, whatever that is. I get a nice briefcase, though, real mock leather – apparently this Elder God person wants it taken down to the airport. Says I won’t have any trouble. I guess I could do him a favour…he seemed a little down after I asked him about the state of his basement.

…

Do we have an airport in Nosgoth? 
 

PS.   Just discovered that I have nowhere to keep my new pocket diary, on account of having no pockets.

Day 5
Can you credit it? I go away for a few hundred years, and someone stops putting pigeon repellent on my clan territory, lazy slackers. The droppings are practically eating through the stonework. Descendents seem to have buggered off somewhere. Charming. The place is an absolute mess, I feel quite ashamed.
Met some yucky melchiah-brats on the way out. They didn’t know where the airport was, so I hit them with my briefcase. I think they were trying to sell me something.

Day 7
Well, Melchiah was an absolute joy, as always. I told him to stop concentrating on his biceps, but would he listen? Now look at the state of him, he must have stumbled upon a lucrative supply of strong steroids from somewhere. He seems to have since eaten that annoying personal trainer that he had back then, which is something I suppose. However, he now seems to be wearing him. Ick – not nice. Told him that he shouldn’t mix and match complexions. He got angry and tried to squish me. Giant inexplicable meat grinder installed in ceiling turned out rather useful. 

Day 8
Made the mistake of looking at my reflection in Rahab’s paddling pool. I think I’m going to need more than an Elastoplast to fix this one.

Incidentally, who the hell designed Rahab’s bedroom? All I did was switch on the lights and he starting fizzling. He’s obviously got some very funny ideas about interior decorating. 

PS – Sorry about the water stains. Some buff rahabim with a tattoo fetish thought it would be funny to splash me. If I wasn’t on an important mission I would have nutted him.

Day 12
Well, it took me days to get any information out of those silly humans in the citadel. Useless things. Any time I tried to ask for directions to the airport they just fell on their knees at my feet in worship, babbling about a saviour. Honestly, it’s impossible to get a straight answer out of someone who’s talking to your crotch.

Day 15
Finally found the Silenced Cathedral. That Underground link had better be here. Being a jetsetting courier may be glamorous, but I can only hold one wing carrying this briefcase. I keep gliding around in circles all the time. Bloody embarrassing, with those scrawny zephonim cackling at me. Stupid things. Always did hate spiders. 
After enduring hours of such humiliating torture to my self-esteem, I finally managed to bribe a human to unlock the back door to the place. I had to give the senile old codger my blessing as a Messiah, and my word that he would get into heaven. Oh well, the joke’s on him (not that it’s hard outwitting dumb humans, you understand, but it’s a nice diversion from work).

Day 16
Have been wandering around in semi-darkness for hours. Still no bloody Underground. Lots of horrible zephonim.

Day 20
Now surviving on mice souls from the nests in the ceiling. Am beginning to lose hope.

Day 21
What’s that noise? Is that footsteps?

Day 23
I think someone’s following me.

I wonder if they know where the Underground is?

Day 25
Have not heard footsteps for some time now. Am resorting back to sewing a pocket on my cowl with zephonim web thread.

Day 26
Have managed to catch my stalker by setting a trail of mice I roasted over a torch. Some weird-looking swarthy turbaned type with a beard down to his butt (if you know what I mean). Couldn’t get much sense out of him, and nothing about directions, so all in all a bit of a wasted effort, really. Poor bastard seemed pretty hungry, though. I must be going soft in my old age.

Day 28
The bearded wonder is still following me around. I told him to bugger off and catch his own mice on several occasions, but I don’t think he understood. Must be foreign or something. Probably lost too, knowing my luck. Absolutely hopeless. 
He was quite useful as zephonim shield, though. And don’t look at me like that - he barely got scratched. Just keeps babbling on about this ‘Al- something’ and scribbling ‘S A U’ in the dust with a stick. Either he can’t spell or he’s trying to tell me I owe him money. I’m keeping a close eye on my briefcase – I don’t trust the senile old crackpot. What is he doing in here, anyway?

Day 30
Beardie Weirdie showed me his hideout today. Dirty place, if you don’t mind my saying so – I can’t imagine why he picked such a grotty corner to kip in. Seemed very excited about his personal collection of rocks, though. At least, I think that’s what they were, Funny shaped things. And what in Nosgoth was that thing he wanted me to point at his face while he babbled on theatrically? Some kind of recording device?

You know, he seems very interested in the briefcase. Actually, I’m getting rather curious myself. It’s starting to leak some kind of white powdery stuff. I wonder what’s in it?

Day 32
That’s it. If I ever get my claws on that cheating, conniving sonofa***** I’ll scrag him. The little bastard stole my briefcase! Without even a ‘thankyou’ for all the bloody mice!!

Day 33
Well, two can play at that game. I followed the trail of powder to that little devil’s new hideout. 

At least, I hope that’s where I’m going.

Seems to be getting kind of smoky, though.

Odd.

Day 34
What kind of idiot sets a torch to an unknown substance in an enclosed space, eh? Now look at him. Sitting like a lemon in his own personal cloud of toxic smoke. And what’s he looking so damn happy for? Oh well, it’s his lungs he’s filling with tar, not mine – filthy habit, I always say.
Gosh, my head. That smoke is really starting to get to me. Is he…giggling?

…

I don’t feel very well.

Day …askjdfbasjdfaslkdnhehehehe…wha?
Yaaarrr…head gone all funny…thingy…ya kno, swirly…hehe…this…thissa guy’z relly a ver niice bloke yaknow? Eee’s no sobad…oooolookit all tha pretty horsies…comere horsies…niiice dripping red zephonhorsies…wassatt sharp fing for, spiderhorsie?

Uuuurrr. Everyfink’s gone aaal blooan’greeny…cm’ere flat floaty bloocloud. Wha you doin’ onthe floor? Whoopsie. Fellover. 

Ooooo…hellopritty sllarr….sluugghh…sleuur…uglee person dog fing. Di you know….did you know you’re talkin’ too a reellive jetsettttn coorir? Eh? Didja didja? Ere, lemme shake yerhand…
 

Ow.