From the Diary of Elenore Frost

From the Diary of Elenore Frost

Having enjoyed keeping a diary to track my latest adventures and whereabouts, I decided to attempt to keep up with the recordings of my life while being ill from the icy waters of the river we attempted to cross a few days ago. I had thought I was making a speedy recovery, but alas, Dr. Adler informed me that I had caught The Chills and had to recover by being bed-ridden. The following are my recordings and observations from the past three days:

Day 1, 9:15 AM – I awoke this morning with a sore throat, hot to the touch but freezing in my bones. No matter what I tried, I could not get warm. Dr. Adler suggested bed rest and that perhaps I was relapsing after spending a good couple minutes in freezing water just a few nights ago. Pleased to report that the bags under my eyes from a sleepless night and the sticky perspiration that hung on me did not keep Eduardo Castillo Rodriguez from propositioning me again. Whether it was kindness or just the simple fact that he had not been with a woman in a very long time, the sentiment was appreciated.

Day 1, 11:48 AM – Tried to muster the energy to apply some rouge in the off chance that Mr. Rodriguez showed up to feed me soup. Alas, it was the maid, and she looked bored.

Day 1, 3:03 PM – All this sleep is making me tired.


Day 1, 11:22 PM – Dr. Adler just informed me that Tarth died heroically in battle earlier today, saving everyone else’s life in the process. This news saddens me, for although I was not particularly close to Tarth, he had always been a good fighter and easily the strongest in our group, and he expressed qualities of leadership and loyalty that were quite admirable. He will be missed.

Day 2, 7:43 AM – The servants bring me cold fish stew for breakfast. It’s possible they’re trying to kill me. On a more positive note, the color is returning to my cheeks, and I believe my strength is growing, which I tested by throwing the stew across the room.

Day 2, 10:39 AM – Tired. Throwing stew is really tiring.

Day 2, 2:05 PM – I am so bored I want to tear my eyes out.

Day 2, 6:16 PM – Supper was brought to me, and my linens were changed as well, and I was well-pleased by both these things. I am feeling stronger by the minute, despite some bad dreams during the day after I learned of Tarth’s passing, but it is to be expected. Death affects us all in different ways. I wish I had known Tarth better, and the same regret that lingers from the death of the servants at Lord Aschenberg’s estate returns to haunt me.

Day 2, 11:51 PM – The bad dreams continue to haunt me. I’d thought I was feeling better, but these dreams make me wonder if my delirium from yesterday’s fever has returned. I toss and turn and try to get comfortable.

Day 3, 12:17 AM – The wails of the undead wake me from my sleep. Is this real? Is this a nightmare? Is this my fever? While I’m trying to decide whether to go back to bed or not, Von Oppenheimer bursts into my room, dresses me hastily and then essentially tosses me out a second story window into the waiting arms of Dr. Adler while I see dead men and women, their flesh rotting off their bones, running around. Honestly, they must have put some opiates in my supper. I will remember to complain about this tomorrow to management.

Day 3, 12:42 AM – I have been huddled in this freezing barn for what feels like hours. If this is a dream or delirium from the fever, next time I would like to dream about fields of grass and sunshine rather than the undead and smelly barn animals.

Day 3, 1:16 AM – I am told that it is safe for me to go back to bed, that the undead have been vanquished, and that I no longer need to be afraid. For this, I am relieved. This nightmare should be over as soon as I wake up again in my warm bed. Also, and I’m sure this is just part of my feverish dream, but when did Tarth become alive again? And why is everyone referring to him as a “her”? Very odd. I need more sleep.



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