While browsing the Arondel Family's extensive library, you notice a worn journal sitting on one of the end tables. Upon closer examination, you see that the book has been frayed and torn in areas, looking like it's been from hell and back. The book is also covered in a thick layer of dust, as if someone set it down to read it, but got sidetracked and abandoned it. You brush off the dust to uncover the journal's title. A faded gold leaf label, that only says one word and a year, “Ritch -1320 AE.”. Curiously you open the front cover and begin to read the journal, written in a very sloppy handwriting.
An Ascalonian Adventure.[]
By Ritch.
Introduction: Hello reader! I'd first like to thank you for picking and and reading my journal. My name is Ritch, and I am an explorer. I like to explore the land of Tyria, searching for important historical artifacts, and adventure just for fun. I have a big adventure in the works and I hope that you enjoy reading about it.
~Ritch,
Day 0: 4:35PM
Well, I've said my good-byes to my pets and have gathered all my supplies. I am ready to close up shop and make my way to the Asura gate to the Black Citadel. I plan to stay the night at the Citadel and make my way into Ashford early tomorrow morning to start my adventure.
As I lock the door to my shop; Ritch's Relic Reliquary, I am both nervous and excited about this expedition. There has been a story going around Lion's Arch, that there is small crevice in Ashford that charr cubs have been hearing ghastly noises emitting from it. This anomaly, whatever it is, is scaring the cubs, and I figured that if something can scare a charr, it must be worth investigating. I am not so much concerned about the ghost itself, but why it can be heard from a crack in the cliffs. Does this lead to an ancient tomb? Or maybe some Ascalonian dungeon? There is only way to find out, and hopefully my expedition will be a success.
Day 0: 8:09PM
I am currently sitting in The Serrated Blade Tavern of Black Citadel. My table is out of sight in the corner of the tavern, yet I'm still getting odd looks from the local charr, not that I would expect them to ignore an Asura carrying a dolyak full of supplies on his back. A large industrial fan hangs above me, blowing all the hot air and smells from the kitchen around me. The burning smell of the cook's food irritates my nose, but who has ever bad mouthed a charr chef's cooking and lived? I'd rather not find out.
There is a old, war-torn charr at the other side of the tavern that keeps staring up at me. She looks up at me, glaring, lets out a snort then goes back to her meal, only to repeat the process 5 minutes later. Does she expect me to blow up the bar or something? I don't have long to ponder when I hear plates and steins being thrown to the floor.
A portly, brown-furred charr soldier stand over two charr cubs;one fat, the other quite frail. The soldier growls at the small one. “When I put in charge of your Fahrar, I was told I would have the future of the charr! Not some pansy human!” He slashes the child with one of his mighty claws and bellows at him. “When we get back, I'm going to work you until you are the charr the Citadel deserves!” The fat cub laughs at the small cub and they are both pushed out of the tavern by the elder charr, leaving the mess they made without any attempt to clean up.
I realize that it is about time I leave, so I walk up to the tavern-keep to ask for a room. The keep is a giant female charr, muscles flowing out her crude apron. I politely ask her if they have a room available. She looms over the counter, bringing her head to my level, let's out a snort like a raging bull and begins to laugh at me. The keep then grabs me by the scarf and brings me closer to her, my face and her muzzle within inches of each other and sternly yells at me. “Does this look like an inn to you Short-round?” I begin to quiver, startled and stumbling over my words I spew out an unintelligible mess. Her response is rather harsh. She growls at me, “Get out of my tavern, you stupid Asura!” then picks me up by the neck and throws me to the floor. Luckily I am physically unharmed, but I quickly scurry out of the pub, thoroughly embarrassed. Unwilling to look for a place to spend the night, I crawl underneath the tavern's supports and decide to sleep there for the night.
Although I am used to sleeping out in the wilderness, spending the night in such an urban environment is unsettling. I come to realize that my only home is Lion's Arch, but even there I still begin to miss Metrica and The rest of the paragraph has been crossed over multiple times by a pen, rendering it unreadable.