Arithem

*A blue, leather bound book sits upon the table before her.  A silver inkwell and quill to her right, a goblet of red wine to her left.  Tapping the quill to her lips in thought, she then dips the sharpened end in ink before writing...*

Another day, another storm.

How oft I think of committing words to this book, and how frequently I lack the enthusiasm, but the wine and events of late have made me more reflective.  Though before I continue, my bard, if you are reading this you shall cease now and return the book to where you found it!