There are certain things you don't ever want to do in life. Traveling in a box meant to carry your body to its final resting place is one of them (its why I've told anyone should I die burn me on a pyre do not under any circumstance bury me, yes whoever is reading this if I'm dead BURN MY ASS!). For one they are really cramped, I understand because their normal occupants care not how things go, but I as a still living person not being able to move ones arms hardly at all is a challenge. Add on top of that I was shackled in a damn box and you can see my discomfort in the whole process.
I also want to complain about the people who carried me (yes this is going to be an all complaints entry DEAL WITH IT!). They were the clumsiest bunch of jerks this side of jerkington. I know they were supposed to act like I was just a corpse, but that shouldn't include bumping into everything! I had bruises they were so clumsy, and apparently weak as they dropped the damn coffin quite a few times (or were handing it off to someone else who was clumsy as an ox!)
Now you'll probably be asking yourself "Why not just cry out and say you aren't dead?" First stupid to ask a question long after a story is over and done with (must I keep reminding you I'm writing these entries long after they are done and I'm not a ghost!) Second sadly it wasn't unique for unwilling participants to be trafficed in the Red Hand territories. Third honestly I was kind of intrigued as to what they were going to do to me, so I kept my mouth shut to see how far the charade was about to go.
So it went that I traveled in a coffin to a dark lair of magic eaters who worshipped Morley as some kind of anti magical god. Not my best holiday, but not my worst (yes there is a story, maybe I'll explain it someday, maybe).
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