I’m afraid. Terrified of living, dying, water, the ground, everything.
I can’t pick up my weapon without seeing the pain it’ll cause. I’m afraid.
I was dragged to a crypt. Dark and gothic like the stories you’d read. So much so it seemed the walls and statues would eat me. I did my best not to see the walking dead of flesh and bone.
It gets worse. A cat’s corpse came to life and took the face of Velsaria. Now I can only see her with a rotten cat body.
I remember gazing into this pool of water, but afterwards became a blur.
Somehow flasks of it ended up in my bag and a sketch of this terrifying thing ended up in my journal.
We also ended up carrying mountains of gold; I’m afraid to ask where it came from. That lizard thing keeps looking at me like it’ll eat me.