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Author Topic: Watchman's Log (Recovered from a corpse)  (Read 2615 times)
Marcus Kobra
Regular Grenadier
Cove Command
Covian Legend
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"Death is certain, When is up to your Medic."


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« on: March 26, 2008, 04:59:55 am »

*The log is found next to the shriveled body of an unidentifiable man wearing a watchman's badge, his leathery skin is pulled tightly to his skull, the only wounds are two small punctures on his neck. His face is locked in pure terror.This personal log of an unnamed Watchman contains much inane details about day to day routine but the final entries, breath the last words of a doomed patrol. The first pages of the fresh entries are soggy and water damaged with the same pasages having been rewritten until the pages become dryer and more clear.*

Damn this rain, Avatar preserve us...

We began our patrol this eve around the sixth hour. It wasn't long before the heavens cracked and down came Avatar's tears. Typical I tell you, you whom I hope reads this. Typical that my unit would be out in a down pour watching for smugglers and rescuing drunks from the bay. Oh how I wish this really was so typical an eve!

We set sentries and marked a patrol route. We started with dislodging the usual riffraff and the drunks. No ships came in for many hours and we supped on stale bread and warm water oh and that bit of cold chicken the recruit brought. Not allowed on patrol mind you but I offered not to report him if he gave me halfsies. The sentries were dozing and on the verge of being relieved when out of the fog came a number of ships bearing Colonial markings. Our sentries hailed them but were met with no answer. Soon we began crowding the edges of the docks attempting to pear onto the decks. Empty! The decks where empty! Oh if only they had known.... I should have told them to dispears to make smaller targets but I didn't and out of the bay came bony hands grabbing at the recruits ankles dragging them in to watery graves.

The sergeant began ordering us into a defensive formation but it was too late. The smell of carion began to waft over the docks just as orcs hooting battle crys came above decks and stormed us. The unit broke apart and fled for their lives as soon as the sergeant was down.  I gathered a few fled to warn the townspeople but we were quickly cut off and forced towards the light house.  We barricaded the door, can not get out. They will get in! Only five of us left.


*The next entry is marked six days later*

Our provisions have run out, and Watchman Elfrut and Recruit Grott are both sick, I do not know how long we can last, we can no longer afford to use oil in the light, we have to conserve it for the nights when we try to signal for help. The orcs seem not to care for us up here and sac the town but the undead. I hear them scrapping at the walls, its only a matter of time before the orcs... or the undeads master comes.

*The next entry is very lightly written and shakily penned*

It has been two weeks, we have eaten our boots and cleaned the place of rats. I have secretly ordered the other men to kill and eat Elfrut first if we must. I make the decision based on his rank. Leaders must sacrifice for their men and he is sick any way... Avatar preserve his soul, and forgive ours.

Three days since we carved up poor Elfrut, Grott has died of his illness and one is missing, taken while outside smoking pipes. Idiot I ordered them not to go outside but couldn't let them smoke pipes in here it could have caused a fire.... Damn Them! Now we are only two. When will help arrive? Oh Avatar... save us.


It has now been ten days since we finished the last of Elfrut. Recruit Bethlers eyes me strangely, he does not like that I let the other men eat Elfrut. I do not know what has kept him alive, he ate none of the man. Nor do I know what that carrion smell is, we dumped the dead outside and the undead pulled them apart.... the smell is so close now, I wonder where Bethlers has gotten. Now that I think on it, he hasn't eaten anything since the first night we were here. He looks wasted, like Grott and Elfrut before they died, perhaps he has their sickness. He refuses to join me in prayer to Avatar, and has avoided the windows during daylight. I assume his eyes must hurt from the disease. Ah there he is, staring from the door. Such a hungry look in his eyes. I do hope we make it out soon or....


*The entry stops there in a jagged line. Strangely enough you mange to find the other four members mentioned in the log a short distance from the base of the light house. Strangely the only one missing from the dead is Recruit Bethlers*
« Last Edit: March 26, 2008, 05:16:21 am by Marcus Kobra/Nikko Bludd » Logged


The Lord hath created medicines out of the earth; and he that is wise will not abhor them.
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