3.1 One thing I never liked about carpentry is the possibility of accidents. I’ve seen it happen. There were times when a worker would get injured, luck willing it would heal with time. But some accidents are so much worse. I’ve seen men loose a finger or two. Had it been me I’d rather have lost an eye. Imagining not being able to play the lyre made me shudder. What I disliked so much was the permanence of those accidents. That finger would never recover, once lost it’s lost forever.

1.1 By any measure known to Gods or men I know that I died. Still, when I came to again it felt like I was dying. My neck ached. Something that should have been blood leaked from that wound to the left below my rib cage. The color of the substance was a few shades too dark. Touching it, was even worse, rubbing it between my fingers it felt closer to olive oil than blood.

My name is Lucius Septimius Firmus, most people don’t call me that though. It’s one of those names that lend itself to specific situations such as when the sun is up and you’re sober. While I don’t by any means dislike my name I would much rather people greet me with a smile or a kiss on the cheek. Some call me The Lyre, other times it’s Singer. Brother or Friend, are my favorites, they’re like titles but of the kind that you earn.

This isn’t a review of Lost in the Deep the journaling RPG, instead see it as my thoughts after playing through the game for the first time. The game is a solo RPG and that genre has confused me for some time.

6♦ I was just staring over with another chant when disaster came for me. Leaning on my spear, it sank into a small hollow in the ground and snapped in two when I fell. Hitting the ground I felt a dull pain from my bad leg. It could have been that I was within the Heart of Stone and protected from the worst of pains.

A♥ Wiping my tears from the pain I almost laughed. Looking up I could see it in the distance. Freedom, a set of stairs leading up. I felt a strong urge to smoke. I imagined rays of sun touching my skin. At that moment the pain didn’t seem so bad.

The stairs themselves turned out to be a struggle. Just days back I would have ran up the steps, now I saw them as a puzzle. The easiest way was to sit on each step and face down, then lift myself up one step at a time. The process took a fair bit of time. I expected my pursuer to appear at the bottom of the steps, but I no longer heard them, with some luck they had turned away and left me.

Day 189

8♦ To say that I woke up refreshed, would be to stretch and bend the word far from its original meaning. But I did feel a lot better than yesterday. I didn’t spend any time cleaning the room where I had slept. Instead I took my kerchief and polished the necklace I got from Belgrima along with the helmet of the old dwarven king. When I escape this place I will at least be able to show my people that these artefacts survived.

K♠ As I began walking again my legs hurt. My situation overwhelmed me. All around I heard faint whispers taunting me, calling for my blood. I could feel that entity, yearning to set its foul claws in me. The worst part was that I couldn’t say if what I heard was real. Maybe those voices were only in my head, could I had turned on myself and a part of me just wanted it to end?

Day 188

9♣ Dreams of Belgrima didn’t come, neither did those of home or of my companions. At least there were no dark dreams. As usual I planned to walk for two or three hours before I broke fast. As I broke my camp the daydreaming began. With this new sense of direction it felt like I was getting close. Could it be that my breakfast would be my last meal within the mountain?

A♦ The helmet gave me a slight headache. It felt tight, too small. Was it small on the king as well? Would a king complain about such a trivial matter? Is my head larger than the king’s? Is it a change that has happened in the five generations since my ancestors left the kingdom? Or is it just me? Is my head too big?