Thok has gone berserk. The lughole won't wait for me now, and I'm following a trail of ash and creature bones. Only yesterday, I'd been slipping out of Thok's shadow to carve into the bats, shades and warriors that would try to flank him, and he'd been spraying the walls with their innards. But today, we came upon something out of a hellish fairy tale. Hanging from the ceiling was an eyeball swaying from its stalk and dripping goo to the floor. Thok was on it from the start but the eye secreted some terrible spittle that kept me rooted. I would have retched if I could move any muscle in my body; instead, I could only watch as Thok wrested it from its stalk. Problem is, Thok reckons I'm in over my head, so he's blitzing a clear path for me to follow. Only thing that stops the sentimental thuggish fool is the keys, puzzles and locked doors; if they didn't slow him down, I swear he'd be at the bottom of this dungeon by now.
Your older brothers,
M. and Thok