Character Development > Development Journals and Discussion

A journal of the bottle... or loss of it


I was travelling through Center, when I met some folk... I told them of my problem in keeping away from the bottle, and one of them threatened to remove my tongue if they ever catch wind of me drinking.... maybe fear is a good motive.  Since then, I have been sober for three days, the headaches and the chills are terrible.  Dorand Help me!

Dorand Help me! Every time I pass by an inn or a tavern, I hear the drink calling me.  It's smooth velvet tongue calls to my innermost being, yet I must deny it.  Day 6 without a drink... I can do it...

I fell off the wagon... quite literally, even.  The call of the bottle has summoned me into its swirling depths... Downward into chaos, and heartbreak... Slowly, oblivion sets in.  I am comfortably numb to the pressures of the world.  As I sit, here, I contemplate... This isn't so bad... But I know there will be trouble come the morning when my acquaintance finds me... I may pay for it with my very tongue.  Please, let me keep my tongue.

ugh! Why do I feel so bad? What day is it?  After seemingly endless time, I find myself awaken by the sound of birds chirping at me.  I look around and see.... Lieutenant Jerson... far away.  I back away from the ledge of the balcony... What the ****. how did I get up here?  No more drinking for me... I get myself in strange places.

I wake up still feeling groggy and tired.  I remember very little of the last few days... What has it been, a day, a week, a month.  Who knows?  The delirium of the bottle has hit me again.  Then all of a sudden, I have a vivid recollection of one of my accquaintances threatening to remove my tongue if he ever caught me drinking alcohol again... Oh! crap!  I better hide.  Off to the distant lands I have only read about... He'll never find me there.


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