[She's muttering to herself here. What the journal picks up will be quiet and somewhat disjointed -- and definitely irritated.] Some kind of communications device, then. It seems a bit... bulky. I wonder... [Pause. There's a rhythmic tapping for a few moments.] Damn it.
[The sound of pages rustling. She clears her throat then and speaks loudly and forcefully.] Luceti. I've never heard of it. There's some sort of guide floating around that I've taken a look at, but I want to hear it from someone personally. Just why have I been brought here?
I have questions that need answered. It would be very much appreciated if someone would step up and start talking.
Start answering, or I start leveling the forest. [There's a pause and then a muttered:] If anyone even cares about the forest. Where the hell is this place? [It's obvious now that she's talking to herself. Journal? What journal?] Definitely not the cave I left. Nowhere near it; the place didn't look a thing like this.
[She trails off, muttering once in awhile about not knowing of anyone in the Bingo Book that can do something like this and about illusions cast before she abruptly cuts herself off. Right. Journal. Recording. She huffs.]
Damn it.
[End transmission.]
[The sound of pages rustling. She clears her throat then and speaks loudly and forcefully.] Luceti. I've never heard of it. There's some sort of guide floating around that I've taken a look at, but I want to hear it from someone personally. Just why have I been brought here?
I have questions that need answered. It would be very much appreciated if someone would step up and start talking.
Start answering, or I start leveling the forest. [There's a pause and then a muttered:] If anyone even cares about the forest. Where the hell is this place? [It's obvious now that she's talking to herself. Journal? What journal?] Definitely not the cave I left. Nowhere near it; the place didn't look a thing like this.
[She trails off, muttering once in awhile about not knowing of anyone in the Bingo Book that can do something like this and about illusions cast before she abruptly cuts herself off. Right. Journal. Recording. She huffs.]
Damn it.
[End transmission.]