The things the gods tell me while I sleep are as they always are: dim, unhelpful images of people whose location I don't know, speaking of subjects that I know nothing of. It is unhelpful, to say the least.
My companions picked up several new individuals, it seems. They found a bard, a tiny, shrill thing that I suspect may be some sort of imp of torment in disguise.
They have an elf, too, a wizard of some sort. She is quiet, unlike the tiny bard. In battle, she aided in my valiantly charging some sort of undead. I take her to be a good woman. The bard spent that particular battle singing, which is not the most valiant of actions, but I suppose it's what she does.
Then there is this Tupper fellow.
A more cowardly individual I have not known in many years. He insists that doors are not to be opened, only examined, that even stairs are to be feared, and that battles should not be faced manfully, but by skulking in the shadows. I thought he would die of his spirit giving out simply because I opened a door without first subjecting it to the kind of scrutiny a woman gives her unfaithful husband.
And his manners! He called me a barbarian, and implied that I needed a leash!
He got lost in the woods as we were fleeing the temple. I felt it was the will of the gods, particularly since Hrogar vanished with him, but the others insisted we wait.
Still, the gods somehow allowed him the final blow on that undead thing we fought. Either they have a sense of humor, or...
I have just stopped to think about it, and it makes good sense. The gods have sent me a message. Tupper is no more cowardly than I was, back before I saw the light of Heracles. Heracles is showing me that he might be a mighty warrior, if only he could be manly. And I, I have returned here. Perhaps I can show him the way.
I dislike him, yes, but I must overcome that.
The gods wish me to make him a man.
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