Same day as the last entry.
I napped for a while. If there was a call to lunch, I missed it.
Woke when the group returned. That was several hours ago, from when I write this. They shuffled in, sloughing off the weight and wear of a fight. Without being obtrusive, I glanced them over to see if they were wounded, as they spread out and took to their racks for a place to sit or lie down.
Saw evidence that healing was done. I’ll chalk that up to the generalist cleric, Pulp. Blood on some of them, too. Not all of it, theirs. Dusty and Lunk are talking about the fight. BOB, and Calum the Dwarf, give me the basic details.
After I left this morning, Gavin sent orders to the group. A band of rejected attendees from last night’s recruitment had assembled at a short distance outside one of the gates of Callia. Bitter and aimless, they harassed travelers and merchants on the road. Suggestion was that our host Guild bore responsibility for dealing with this minor menace.
My newfound cohorts went out and, to my quiet surprise, actually attempted to negotiate, to convince the miscreants to hit the road and try their luck elsewhere. From how BOB tells it, our side brought brains to a muscle fight. Weapons came out, sides squared off, and a brawl came quickly. Those few of the thugs that escaped, were those that didn’t die. Whatever was taken off the dead was turned over to the Guild clerks as the group returned to the House. That seems to be the rule.
Gavin appeared at the door to our hall. Invited us down to dinner. I had more than my share of food. Decent fare, lots of it, roasted beef and bread and potatoes, and wine watered to stretch it around to so many diners. It was just Gavin and us. Gavin wanted to know what happened, and in turn each man at the table recounted his part. Our Guild master listened, ate nothing, drank nothing. He interrupted for clarification on one matter, asking specific details about one of the men our side had slain. His face hardened at the answer. He did not seem interested in the rest of the story. He gave gratitude for the efforts and left when the telling was done.
Spiritz the mage, Alex and I, shared a knowing glance. They had noticed. The others continued talking, loosened by the weak wine in large quantity. Xel’Xaran goaded Dusty into a drinking contest with Calum; that Elf has a tremendous sense of humour. Lunk took long odds on Dusty to win. The other fighter, quiet Reece, won his bet on stout Dwarf Calum.
Dusty snores louder than talks. Some of the group went back to the hall to turn in after the drinking contest ended, dragging the passed-out warrior with them. I stayed up a while, talking with BOB and Xel’Xaran. The Elf would only meditate a few hours for sleep, as his kind does, and was in a mood to stay awake. Get a good impression from these guys. We talked about travelling.
Excused myself to come back to the hall and write this before retiring. Snores echo in the sleeping chamber, all from Dusty. Notice that Alex is here. Didn’t notice when he left dinner. He’s awake but silent, maybe meditating and praying back his spells. Odd that he does so close to midnight. None of the clerics at St-Jude’s ever meditated at night. Pulp did his prayer routine this morning, after I did. I’ll make a note of this and think on it later.
Journal of Dr. Marcus Grant
Healing Cleric of Pelor, Order of St-Jude Academy (Silabrek)
4th Day in Callia, territory of Ælim.