22nd Lantern: Feas, near the end of Junar, 1402 At long last, my journey to the continent of Mistone is complete. The cool air of the night calms my soul, and I ponder my next move in the far-too-cleanly alleyways of Hlint. Speaking of clean alleys, I have come to despise many aspects of this rottenly peaceful community. Hlint is a queer town. The locals are brash, while the visitors are friendly. Houses lie neatly rowed in matching blocks, while commercial structures lay strewn about, almost haphazardly. And the days – oh the painfully bright days. The sun beats down, the flowers seem to dance in the wind, and the air is filled with the sounds of children’s laughter. I don’t think I’ve seen a drop of rain in a week. It’s enough to drive me to an early grave, Corath willing. However, I will have to make due, for the time being. I am not yet prepared to journey to Spellgard, and Hlint seems to the bear adequate supplies for the moment. I have learned to pass the horrendous days within the sewer, a curiously intricate structure for such as small town. A local warrior (an unruly character by the name of Elgon) first introduced me to the dark solitude of this place. In our visit, I watched in fascination as he tore the local rat community limb from limb. The destruction was swift, calculated and devastating – it was a virtual symphony of death and chaos. I’ve felt bound to the place ever since. However, I am beginning to grow weary of the sewer. I am sick of skinning rats, and I have felt the icy grip of death only once since arriving here. I yearn for the swamp, and the scent of decay emanating from this place is no substitute for that of real corpses. I believe I shall be making a trip to the graveyard very shortly, to see what oddities I can turn up in there. May your death at my hands be a painful one. Atuan Tehanu
