Day Sixty-One
Not getting any easier.
Sad wine, happy heart.
Faster, faster, faster.
Sir Speaksalot: Speechless?
They and their kinfolk laughed at me,
Turning my face from mockery,
Facing my destiny, unsure,
Heedless of toil and sheep manure,
Scaling the slopes alone, unkissed,
Facing the mountains and the mist,
I climbed the ramparts, not to tire,
Till I discovered dragonfire.
Day Sixty-Two
RUNNING OUT OF TIME.
Doctorslashmagus: The leaves of your life tree may have turned brown, but I'll hunt you down to turn them green again.
Day Sixty-Three
Mortal Paladine?
Four out of four. It's all becoming clear.
What have you done?
Said a thing I shouldn't have said.
To fight or not to fight?
Missing Sparkleteats. Where are you?
Him: I still don't like it. I don't think I want to like it.
Scarface: What a jerk.