The Journal of SHEITO

Campaign: The Legend of Fin Fang Foom

A restless night in the temple
Tamiko did not sleep well after she had completed her turn of guard duty. Removing her leather armor and stilleto boots and loosening her belt to allow her garments to flow, she unrolled her sleeping gear and nestled in between layers of down quilts. She didn't mind the cold, it was a common thing in her part of the country. And soon enough images of someone made her blood race, and warmth spread from parts of her core that soon filled the space around her. As her mind drifted away to that place beyond the physical world, she wondered if she would ever see her again.
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What have I gotten myself into?
It is late as I take quill and put to paper these thoughts. My distant kinsman (family they may be, but so uncouth some of them!!)and I now rest in the Temple of the Dragon, awaiting the dawn when our powers are regained, and we may ascend the steps into the dungeon of our doom! I pray to My Lady that we have not committed ourselves to a task beyond our abilities. There is one, a wu-jen, who appears to know more than he shows. While another smells badly, and will not stand downwind! (ugh, men!) Yet another, quacks at times and seems to change into a drake. Just our luck. If he had been a hen we might have at least gotten eggs for breakfast. I cannot believe that my family is connected to korobokuru (yeck!) what men will lay with!! But there is 1, a kensai, almost worthy of a look from me. As for the monk, he is a celibate!
But my thoughts wander. I should not be thinking of them, but of poor great great grandfather suzuki. I have sworn to the Family that we would bring him back, alive. If I fail, the blade of my Katana will surely taste my blood.
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