If youâre reading this, youâd better have a bloody good reason for doing so.
Because if I find out youâve been nosing about in my diary, Iâll shove you screaming into the void where the Old Twit will nibble on your soul for the rest of eternity. Donât think I wonât do it! Because I will.
So, think very carefully about whether you want to keep reading or do the sensible thing and put my diary back on my desk and get out of my house. Iâm sure I never invited you in. And if I did, Iâm officially uninviting you right this instant!
I canât stand people who invade another personâs privacy.
Itâs deplorable.
Utterly deplorable.
I hope you feel very ashamed of what youâre doing.
Anyway. If you do have good reason, you may continue. But know that Noodle is watching you. I know you think heâs an ordinary looking black kitten with strange purple eyes, but thatâs what he wants you to think.
Heâs actually a very nasty little creature I picked up on my travels within the void. No, it wasnât deliberate. While he looks like a kitten, heâs more like a cosmic flea.
Or the pox.
But Iâm not going to tell him to go away until he wants to.
Because Iâm not an idiot.
One does not tell a void-born entity what to do. Not unless one is seeking to have their soul sipped through a straw, spat out, sipped through a straw again, spat out again, and so on and so on until the end of time.
Not that Noodle would use a straw.
He prefers to dice you up with his claws and let each of his mouths have a piece of you. How many mouths does he have? Iâve counted up to forty-seven, once. Add to that his fifty-three eyes and occasional eruptions of wriggly tentacles of unknown number, and you have a creature you should know very well to leave alone.
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
And if youâre STILL reading, then you must be very desperate to know all about me indeed. I applaud your backbone. Not many people these days have backbone. Soft bottoms are what they have. From all that sitting down at desks.
I know Waggenrook is home to the Mage Guild, but I donât think it should have become home to every petty little bureaucrat in the country.
Which reminds me.
If youâre a bureaucrat, Noodle will eat you on the way out no matter what. I gave him very strict instructions on that.
Well.
Not quite instructions.
Permissions?
No, thatâs not it either.
Encouragement. Yes, thatâs close enough.
I gave him very strict encouragement when it comes to bureaucrats and wanted it to be very clear that I will not tolerate one leaving my home alive.
Still here?
Well. Arenât you very hard to get rid of? Iâm sure if I know you socially, I donât like you. I canât stand people who buzz all around me like flies. Youâre obviously a very irritating person indeed.
Really you are.
Now, stop it.
Stop reading my diary!
Bah. Iâll deal with you when I get home.
And I will, you know. I enchanted it so Iâll know exactly who picks it up and which pages they looked at. I will know exactly who you are, where you live, and what your shoe size is. Iâll even know where you shop for biscuits.
Still reading?
Youâre really starting to upset me now. Honestly, I havenât been this upset since the day I kicked the emperor all the way up between his legs. And I donât care what anyone says about it, he deserved to have his unmentionables mentioned in the same sentence as crushed.
He should have given me my reward when I killed the Dark Lord of the North for him. He promised me a mountain of gold and a tower in Waggenrook. Not a piddly little sack of mixed currency and a hilltop fort in Scania.
What would I do with a fort?
In Scania?
It rains all the time in Scania and the only bloody reason anyone goes there is to herd their bloody sheep up and down all over the place!
Iâm a mage, not a farmer!
And as for his giving me a little sack of mixed currency? Well. That deserved more than a kick in his sack, I tell you. Some of that silver was Freinsch.
Worthless degenerate currency.
Thatâs what youâre being paid to read my diary, arenât you? A petty little fistful of Freinsch deniers, Iâd wager. Probably worth less than one of my socks. And if youâre now thinking to steal my socks on your way out, then youâd best get your head in order, champ.
Because I wonât stand for that.
Not at all.
Itâs positively ungrateful. I could have dropped you into the void by now if Iâd wanted to. But I was being patient with you. I was giving you a chance to redeem yourself by putting my diary down!
Honestly.
Youâre so annoying.
Well. If you ARE going to read it, you might as well start at the beginningâ¦