Back to the Slave Pit

With the crowing of the cock, I have traversed to the Southern Lands, to once again labor in the Slave Pits. There is a she-ogre most foul laboring besides me that has drenched her self in perfume to mask her inadequacies. I feel as though I am being violated by her scent and find my mind numb with its curse. Grumpkin, the Six Foot Dwarf, is as cheerful as a bog on a wet winter eve. But alas, I have waylaid at the Tavern, to replenish my energy with the Dew of the Mountain.