The Gentle Blaze of Somniferum and Sativa

Oh thank the gods, the curse of sobriety has been lifted from me. I can finally enjoy the pipe I bought from Wastow as it's intended to be enjoyed. I had been going desperately through the motions of smoking my--what I assumed was an overpriced and ineffective--stash of resin the past month, hoping, praying for some effect to haze my mind but I was wholly unprepared for it to actually work. Needless to say, yesterday hardly exists in my memory. So, all in all, a perfect day.
 
The great expanse of flatlands lays ahead of us. Amity and Variel have made yet another dubious friend in the form of a severely malnourished elf whose name currently escapes me. He had been tasked with delivering two coffins to the most miserable swamp on the continent, and had intended to do so with the help of another even -more- dubious elven lad. Unfortunately, that gentleman was well consumed by the fire aboard the ship...a fire I did not start, mind you.
 
Though, it bares mentioning for future reference...I did find great difficulty motivating myself to put that fire out. In the end, I hardly contributed to extinguishing the flames at all. I can't even remember if I had, in fact, contributed spreading the blaze in the end or not. It's so ridiculous. If that ship had burned up and put us all into the drink, the misery that followed would have been magnitudes worse than just putting the damn flames out. Yet, at the time--I found myself incapable of thinking that far ahead. The logic completely evaded me. Still, even letting the fire chew through as much as it did, it provided very little in the way of sating my hunger. In fact, I daresay it's only served to frustrate me further. Maddening, absolutely maddening. It's like...oh, how do I explain this without falling onto wholly inappropriate sexual metaphors. Hunger--imagine being SO HUNGRY--and then being provided the tantalizing scent of a steak, and then being granted a lick of it--maybe even a small bite--and then poof, it vanishes. The anger that bubbles up, the frustration of being denied a wholly satisfying meal when your stomach aches for it...that's what it feels like. It makes me grumpy, irritable, very impatient.
 
If only eating a bucket of meat actually sated -that- hunger, this whole situation I'm in would be more tolerable. On the plus side, poppy smoke seems to quell my appetite remarkably well. Or rather, it numbs my mind to the clawing hunger pains. I'm so thankful.
 
So now we've traded the sea for the unending plains, accompanying this questionable elf and his 'cargo' of corpses to the swamp.
Variel has already begun bitching of boredom and I'm not sure if it would be wise to inform her that this is going to be our lives for the next several weeks. If she becomes truly insufferable, I'll let her share a smoke or two and see if that can't pacify her. I, for one, welcome this stretch. It's a peaceful, quiet road with fair weather and a clear night sky. What follows afterwards is pure misery...so...best enjoy the flat, dry terrain while we can.