Day Forty-Three (1 of 5)

Serious doubts grow within me.  Doubts about my companions, about our group as a whole – and second thoughts about my place on this team.  This should have been a straightforward assignment from Gavin and Yissic.  It has turned out to be anything but.

We have stopped being a focused team of adventurers and, well…I don’t know quite what this group has become.

I am now sick of this mission.  If I wanted to spend this much time sleeping in dirt and running all over the wild, I’d have bought a stupid green felt hat, learned archery, and been a Ranger.

More than the lack of proper sleeping quarters has been how my associates have handled themselves, especially these last two days.  Today saw an encounter that left me bewildered, indignant, and more than a bit embarrassed.  Embarrassed for my companions, not for myself.  I carried myself with far more dignity and common sense than the lot of them.

Well, no, not Alex.  He was okay, in a sense.  He was a voice of reason, when he got involved.  Except at the end.

I haven’t forgotten that he cast a Life Drain spell yesterday, which wounded a number of our associates.  That is something we will have to discuss, when I figure out how to discuss it.  He may not be very…Good…but he is one person about whom I am not seriously concerned right now.

Back to the beginning and what happened with the Dwarf Cleric.  I have been stewing about it all afternoon, and through dinner tonight.  Which, as it happens, was not stew.

This morning we woke up bruised, battered, and paranoid about what we left behind when we escaped the battle site.  Last night there was fear that the Dwarf Cleric and whatever minions he had might counter-attack us in the night.  That didn’t happen.  In the middle of the night so many terrible scenarios seem all too certain.

With the day’s spells regained I did a lot of healing, fixed up our comrades.  BOB and Pulp were most insistent that we get moving.  They were itching to chase down the Cleric.  Their determination was insatiable.

Our group packed up as we forced down a cold and unsatisfying breakfast.  Isis, BOB, Pulp – even Gord stomped around impatiently as we hurried to make ready.

Then, we were off and running.  We covered familiar ground; first the ambush site and then the battlefield at the hobgoblin camp.  The scene was a massacre in still-life; nothing had changed since we retreated last night.  The bodies stank, the blood soaked the soil.  Birds watched us from a safe distance, willing us to leave.

A quick look around there.  Then onward toward the other camp where BOB, Pulp, and Isis had tracked the Dwarf Cleric.

Journal of Dr. Marcus Grant
Healing Cleric of Pelor, Order of St-Jude Academy (Silabrek)
43rd Day, grasslands, territory of Ælim.




About d20horizons

D&D player.
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