A Chickenscratch Journal Entry

[Enfield]

Ze first page of ze writing-down stories of Rhastim, track-seeker.

Lost. Maybe. Yes.

Ze matriarch wanted me to go to ze ozer enclave for some reason. I zhink it was maybe for ze fight? Zhere gonna be a fight, and our guys are dumb butts, yes. Dumb butts don't zhink ze bandits can win. But ze bandits are humans from ze war. Humans hurt-hurt I once. Zhey gots ze big muscles.

But I zhink maybe zat was last month? No? Maybe longer. Zat zhing maybe already happen, no? I got lost. Zhis place don't look anyzhing like home.

But I gets to kill stuff, and zhere's so pretty ladies here. Screw ze enclave. Zhose dumb butts can go eat a rock.

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Rhastim is a male yinglet, standing three feet tall, and weighing about 40lb. His fur is a kind of dirty white color, with very little mottling. His little stick-like limbs are fragile, but less so than the average ratbird. Also just a bit sharper that the average scav, he's actually learned to read and write, though not well. If he were still at his enclave, he'd probably be a patriarch on his competence alone. But that ship has sailed. He wears a loose, junky chain shirt over a simple rough tunic so "ze pinchy little rings no bite fur". Also impressive for a yinglet is his arsenal. Armed with four javelins and a heavy crossbow, anyone under three feet might find him intimidating.