Day Thirty-Two: Look at the size of those things!

Sometimes you get what you wish for, diary. Usually when what you wished for wasn’t really what you wanted. Then you get it anyway, and it’s bad.

Yeah. This is bad. Like, expired yogurt bad. Not that we get yogurt around here, ‘cause Robert doesn’t have the stuff in the mess hall for making it, but... well, anyway, I should get to the point:

The castle’s under siege.

It started on my shift, in the middle of the night. I was sleeping in a little nook along the walls when a rumble took hold of the ground. I thought it was another of those little quakes that we keep hearing in the early morning, but this one was different. It sounded closer.

Then a big rock flew over the wall. That kinda told me that something was up.

I rolled out of my nook, soaking wet, and had a quick look around. Another rock launched over the wall, and another, and another. One of the other guards, Timothy, get pasted. The rock flattened him. And then another rock flattened that rock, and the smear that was Timothy just, uh, spread. Everywhere. Ouch, you know?

I peeked over the ramparts, and immediately spotted a line up of catapults in the distance, surrounded by little green things. It was hard to see ‘cause of the rain and the dark, but I found out later that they were goblins. The war bands must have been preparing for this all along. Dozens of siege weapons, hundreds of soldiers, even a couple slave trolls.

And rocks. Once the rain let up a bit, fiery rocks.

It didn’t take long for the soldiers to get up on the ramparts, and one of them knocked me off the wall and into the west bailey. I knew I wasn’t much use since I couldn’t hold a sword or a bow or even an arrow, so I ran to the rat farms. I didn’t know where else to go.

So here I am, writing in you, watching the rats get all restless, listening to the thumps of falling stones above.

Not cool, diary.

Under attack,

Dragomir the Useless Slug