We have been exploring an accursed and trap-filled underground complex, a ruined mine of some sort that seems to have been more recently occupied by a gang of outlaws or other such villains. Whoever they were, they clearly met a bad end, as much was left unfinished, as if suddenly interrupted.
I do not understand the impractical attitude of certain of our companions, particularly Alcander, regarding the valuables abandoned here. What virtue is there in being penniless, hungry, and ill-equipped? How does this help us achieve our mission? For as they say in my country, 'all things grow from a grain of wheat'. Even the mightiest and most noble may be felled by inattention to basic necessities, and all their worthy goals brought to nothing. I am reminded of the tale of Musheret the Peasant and Ar-Dahun the Guardian...
***
What has happened? We encountered a shadow, a sort of minor undead if I understand correctly. Our clerics promptly drove it away, but before doing so, it attacked, and I alone was struck. Though not outwardly wounded, I felt the very cold shadow of death upon me. Since then I have felt drained somehow. This creature of evil is not said to be among the mightier of its foul kind, yet it has wrought some change in me.
We have been in other fights and I do bear wounds from them, and seeing my pale countenance, the other seem to believe that I am gravely injured, but it is not so. In truth something else is wrong, it is as if I have lost strength from my arms, and a darkness has grown in my heart. I am troubled, and must reflect. Strength and wisdom are found anew in faith. I will seek guidance from lord Pelor.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment