Eventful day. Sleeping outside tonight.
Group woke up this morning to find a note under the door of our sleeping hall. Gavin’s orders again. He wants us to deliver some bad news.
One of the miscreants that was killed in the fight yesterday was the son of a half-Elf woman who lives in a town a day’s journey from Callia. Gavin will have us travel to her house, and deliver the news of her son’s untimely death – as she is Gavin’s aunt, and so the miscreant in question was Gavin’s cousin.
The message is ours to compose and deliver as we see appropriate. We will travel with an escort of four armed men contracted by the Guild. Alex immediately raised suspicion on this last point. Not within Gavin’s earshot, though.
We departed immediately. Dusty is not so wrecked from his epic drinking failure as I expected. He asked if I really was a doctor, and by saying yes I fear I may have invited him to seek my advice on a whole host of technically medically-related, entirely-asinine questions. Nothing about hangovers today; just him seeking assurances that I might be able to cure his nether-regions of infection should he contract something from the “many conquests” he intends to achieve when we reach our destination tomorrow.
An interesting note regarding Dusty. I suspect he may have a touch of pixie or grig ancestry on one side of his family. While he looks fully human, he shows no outward signs of sprite heritage (which is not to say I would know the look). My suspicion stems from one point during our walking journey this afternoon, when I overheard Xel’Xaran tell Lunk that he thought that Dusty was, I think he said, “really really fey”.
The weather has improved. Overcast sky is gone, blue sky in its place, and fair breezes at our back. Hot out when the air was still. Our escorts are tough sorts, unresponsive to casual conversation or other attempts to engage their attention. Alex eyes them anxiously, and whispers to anyone near him that he expects our escorts to quietly murder us some time this evening. In broad daylight and surrounded by what are proving to be trustworthy allies, this seems ridiculous. Come dark of night, however, circumstances differ.
Broke march for lunch, and again at dusk to set camp and make a fire. Our pace was pleasant and we are not encumbered, so the mood was light.
As darkness set in, Alex started up again with his quiet, grim predictions of our impending horrible murders at the hands of our reticent minders. Stars above and a dark moon were on his side, setting a mood more conducive to such shadow conspiracy. Pulp and I are unaffected by this talk – I don’t believe any of it for a moment. I saw BOB suggest something to Lunk in a low, guarded voice. Lunk looked over the four guards and their armament, and nodded agreement. Dusty is antsy. His clubs are always within reach. Spiritz and Reece hang off every fatalistic prediction Alex offers, when he suspects the escorts cannot hear him. Xel’Xaran just rolls his eyes when someone looks his way.
The group is dividing their sleeping schedule into watches, despite one of the escorts dismissing the need. I will sleep the night through, taking no watch. If I make no entry to this journal tomorrow, then I guess that odd cleric Alex was right.
Journal of Dr. Marcus Grant
Healing Cleric of Pelor, Order of St-Jude Academy (Silabrek)
5th Day, outside Callia, territory of Ælim.