[center]Floor 34: Mareen's Swamp
[img=http://images3.alphacoders.com/205/205047.jpg]
Current Location: Outside of an Old Castle Courtyard Ruin, which is known as the Boss' Lair.
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[i]Date- October Eleventh[/i]

[center][i]"The guilds have gathered just outside of the Boss room, we are all sitting and standing around small campfires we have made and things are getting itchy. People are beginning to get jumpy and the tensions are high. The guilds are making us wait for some reason, some unexplainable reason. They claim to be "prepping" and they act like they are, but it seems all too lacking. 

Many of the other players are beginning to lose their nerve and many others have already left the camp. It doesn't help knowing our camp is in the middle of an open dungeon and could be attacked at any moment, but that raises question as well. We entered this dungeon four days ago, have fought through wave after wave of muk-coated bog creatures, and yet there aren't any here at the camp or near the camp. 

I have yet to see any signs of any form of monster that is considered hostile in the immediate or adjacent area, and frankly it is putting me on alert. I can't help it, it seems like everything in my knowledge tells me we should at least see one attack here or there, but it is completely dead, and it has been this way since we arrived. 

The ruins are interesting, every few feet you can see a pile of rubble or a low-bearing wall sticking up from the muk and water, but nothing is standing too well except for the structure we are camped outside of right now. This is supposedly the Boss' Lair, but as of the word the Guilds are giving us, nothing is certain. They keep everything hush-hush inside the ladder of the Guilds and only a few people from each guild actually communicate with the other guilds. It is, as I have stated, growing annoying.

I hope to live one more day, to write my next entry..."[/i][/center]

Rorik gently looked up from his book, the quill in his hand gently cleaned by a small piece of cloth and then placed flat in the small, red, book as a place holder. He then sat the book on a nearby rock as a figure approached him. This figure wore large plate armor that was midnight black and had navy blue ornate linings, marking, and etchings across the entirety of the armor. The figure itself was a tall male who had blonde short, cropped hair and slight stubble across his chin and a small scar just under his right cheekbone that looked much like a comma. The figure stopped a few feet from allen and bowed with his right fist tucked into his waist in a formal manner.
"Greetings, I am Knight Commander Arniil, you are Rorik, yes?" The male then stood stright and with his hands firmly at his sides with a firm, blank expression that awaited an answer.

"Yes, I am Rorik, why do you ask?" He responded with a question. Rorik then straightned his back and crossed his arms and adjusted his rear upon the stump which he sat. He groaned under his breath as a piece of wood sticking up from the stump seemed to have weaseled it's way into the space between his under thigh and armor. 

"I am simply taking note of all the players here, I am to confirm each players name and then move on." Arniil answered before bowing again and ten taking his leave. He strolled straight back to his guildmates, the Knights of Cold Harbor. 

Rorik was surprised by this silly action, and how it was enacted by the Knights of Cold Harbor. There was little anyone knew about the Knights, and this included Rorik's limited knowledge. He examined the guild as they stood secluded from the majority of the camping Raid party and then he began to survey the entirety of the players there, every type of player was present, male and female, young and old, defensive and offensive, guildie and solo player, every type of person possible was there to push the game further, and each of them had there own reason for moving on in the game. 

Roriks reason was obscure even to him, he wasn't entirely sure what he would do once the game was over, his goal was more the fighting, the idea that he was killing the machinations of a madman, a murderer, a pyschopathic, idealistic, homicidal, maniac