Burgen Bralund - Introduction

Burgen Bralund's Travel Journals

I am two days removed from Falgarholm. The mountains have shrunk to foothill, tomorrow I'll descend into the northern plain. I never liked them, I should have brought more brew.	Crossed the plains today... I hate the plains. More plains tomorrow and then I must cross the Weatherfall River. I have rivers. More plains after that, then maybe some hills. This better be worth it, I hate hills. I need a drink.
Halflings, I hate Halflings. Their swill tastes like mud and they are far too happy about... everything. I am almost to the Cleft. This better be worth it. If one more Halfling asks me to the weather is up here, I am going to burn down the entire village. I need a drink.	They actually tried to talk me into sleeping in one of their little buildings. If I sneezed in my sleep, I would hit my head on their celings. I have concluded that common sense is directly proportional to height. I can only hope the swarves are the exception to the rule.

They are like little children who have eaten too much candy. Apparently, a big ant scared one of their farmers not too long ago. I squashed three on my way in here. They're ants. Thank the gods I only have to spend a night here... hopefully I will be able to find something to drink.