To anyone that happens across this writing and decides to read it:
Its the 20th of Pharast. Again. What’s the year again? These young lads have some spunk, to drive and pursue mushrooms, little dragon men, and bugs.
Pardon the blotches, this ale keeps jumping from my mug.
And before the end of the night, I salute those fallen and pour one for them. They be mixin and sippin somewhere.