Franz Lohner's Chronicle - Why I'm a Worthless Mayfly

An absent-minded man of mysteries, Franz Lohner relies on his bulging journal to keep track of occurrences, intrigues and arguments around Taal's Horn Keep. Sometimes his notes are even useful, believe it or not. The Franz Lohner Chronicles are extracts from that journal.

Hello diary. I hope you don’t mind me addressing you, an inanimate object, as if you’re some kind of sentient being worthy of conversation? I know it’s unseemly.

Alas, you are my only real friend … probably because you have no eyes with which to see how often I scratch myself in unseemly ways, or ears to hear that strange whistling noise I make with my teeth while I scour my tiny mayfly brain for what passes as a useful thought.

Believe me, you’re much better off for it. If only the others were so blessed.

I come to you with a confession. I have recently realised that I must be much, much, much nicer to Kerillian. Or rather, to Lady Kerillian the Beautiful and All-Wise - as I should really start calling her. She is patently as far above me as I am above the worms churning the soil. 

No. 

Wait. 

She is patently many times farther above me than I am above the worms churning the soil. I cannot give you a precise number, no, as counting makes my head hurt and my tongue itch.

Alas, it’s a source of constant, guilty shame that I do not readily prostrate myself and clean Lady Kerillian’s boots with my tongue. Which she would of course not allow, because my tongue – like the rest of me – is filthier than her boots ever get. Yes, even after she’s been forced to walk through yet another sewer because I arrogantly assumed that doing so was a good use of her time.

I understand now that Lady Kerillian’s longevity is no excuse for such poor planning on my part. I should be endlessly grateful for every moment she sees fit to grant me - me! - and never again ask her to join Bardin’s misguided attempt at a sing-song.

Let me see. What else? What else do I talk about all the time? Oh, that’s right.

Pumpkins.

Pumpkins. Pumpkins. Pumpkins. Pumpkins. Pumpkins.

I love pumpkins. In fact, I sometimes wish I was one.

Pumpkins. Pumpkins. Pumpkins. Pumpkins. Pumpkins. Pumpkins. Pumpkins. Pumpkins. Pumpkins. Pumpkins.

Yours, Franz Lohner, in pumpkin love.

Pumpkins.