3rd Entry

I just had a conversation with Jereziah.

Well it looks like the bigshot shiny-armor-man wants me to go on a special mission. What this mission entails is something I am NOT really looking forward to. He wants me to sneak under the cover of darkness with his trusted scout (who likes to remain anonymous of some obscure reason) and burn down a local hellbourne shop. Isn't it ludicrous? Me, sneaking around. I am a military strategist of the highest order, not some blackguard pyromancer who likes to see things burn.

I'll have to buy a shroud. Ugh. This is so embarassing. The things just dont fit very well and always end up poking through my spikes. So basically if we encounter any enemies they will see a giant mass of floating spikes, suspended by nothing. Guess it would give an enemy something to think about before being brained with my mace.

Oh well. I will record how it goes later.

2nd Entry

I come back from the day's battle with blood covering my spikes and fleshy-brain-parts covering my mace. War is a gruesome business. Someone has to do it though.

People say I am a creature of few words. The Keeper, somewhat of a special case like myself, mocked my war-voice. Ok war-voice. What is a war-voice, you ask? My war-voice is something of a persona I carry into battle with me. I talk like I have a speech impediment to lull my enemies into a false sense of security. Works every time.

Duhhhh simple ole' Armadon spikin' em. Thats what they think. But what is really happening is me commanding the regulars under my breath, giving complex orders concerning feints, attack strategies, etc. They take me for a simpleton and I abuse that mindset. Armaheina, my ex-wife, loved that about me.

Hellbourne? More like Helldumb.