I did not train as a Scribe. Maybe I should have; this journal is getting weighty. If I had taken up the craft of Letters, I might know what constitutes a ‘metaphor’ and whether today applies as one for our group.
We are still at the lizardfolk settlement. In an hour from now, I am sure that our debate over what to have for dinner and when to have it will be no different than the disorganized fumble that our day has been so far.
This morning the spellcasters were awake and ready early. The fighters were asleep almost until noon. The sky is no less overcast than yesterday but its remote threat of rain somehow concerned us, so we did not set out. We don’t need meat from a hunt but Xel’Xaran and Ayreskin went on one anyways.
By chance or ill favour of the Divine, our group today has been at odds with itself; or almost intentionally resolved to do the opposite of what makes the most sense. Nothing (except everything) keeps us from being on our way to Yissic’s village.
Fine then, I will sit and write by light of day. If some of our group wish to relax, horse around at distractions, and make a holiday of our travel time back to the Guild’s authority, so then they will. But besides myself there are Pulp and Alex and Adiana (especially) who feel our time is wasted in this lizardfolk camp. We suffer this extended stay today but we will not do so tomorrow.
Alex. His relief from the captivity of this village is the freedom he permits his bird, Billy, to enjoy in his stead. The Familiar is gone for the better part of each hour and in its absence my relief is Adiana’s cat’s disappointment. I don’t get why the bird looks at me the way it does. Also I don’t know why I care. It’s a bird.
The Necromancer is the greatest puzzle in this party. He is contradictions. He casts evil spells and is, himself, no doubt Evil; yet he is quiet and polite and not threatening in the least to any of us. Alex is fascinated by death and dead creatures, but in a clinical, detached sense – I have not seen him intentionally cause death, even for the most minor creature which may steal close to our camp at night or cross our path by day. He has killed in combat, but those kills were of a defensive nature and at no point has he delighted in it.
I am challenged to classify him in this party according to my impressions. Sensibly, logically, rationally, I should not trust him. I should place him on the side of those I find potentially dangerous to my well-being and that of our party – those associates I have mentioned before.
But this is not the case. And I am amazed by it. Where common sense should prevail, I am otherwise convinced by gut instinct. Alex is not on the bad side of our party, if such a side does actually exist outside of my imagination. More strange than that, more telling of my own state of mind, is that I might go so far as to consider him a friend.
How does that make sense ? I cannot explain it. Alex is not open, not talkative or personable, is secretive and self-absorbed (but not haughty) and doesn’t show a distinct affinity for me beyond that of a party associate. But I think he and I are more alike than we realize. From no-one else since the Academy have I sensed such a focus and dedication to a profession and a calling as I do from Alex. His focus is Death and mine is Life (how grand a contrast!) yet beyond that semantic difference, I suspect his passion and his zeal for his field of study is at least comparable to mine. We share a hunger for brilliance and for the mastery of our respective arts. There is much to admire in that.
Journal of Dr. Marcus Grant
Healing Cleric of Pelor, Order of St-Jude Academy (Silabrek)
47th Day, lizardfolk settlement, territory of Ælim.