Ragnarr: Day 155

Pelor, forgive me, for I am a bastard.

I suppose I shouldn't be too hard on myself. I might have saved everybody. But how I saved everybody, that's the problem.

We're not prepared to fight in the water. That's a problem, when we keep fighting in the water. The only bloody thing I've figured out to do is to summon poor damn fishes to come fight for us.

Fishes like the two that damn shark ate. Or the one I killed today, though at least that one was a different sort of fish, so I'm pretty sure it wasn't the same fish I got eaten the other two times.

And yes, I know that the fishes will reform on their own plane, healthy in body, and go about their business. I know the fire elemental will, too, bless his soul. But I know for damn sure that I'll reform some place nicer when I die, too.

That doesn't mean that I'd be thankful if some unprepared, desperate bastard ripped me out of my life and forced me to die an awful, painful death from the thing I despise most, just so that I might explode and harm something that somebody wasn't prepared to fight.

That poor fire elemental. It was never meant to be summoned in water. It made a hell of an explosion when it did. Probably saved us all, though it ripped apart the fish I had summoned, and nearly killed Chris in the bargain.

Thank Pelor I can say "almost." I couldn't bloody live with myself if I'd dragged him out of his tower, just to get him killed unleashing forces that I don't really understand.

And all that just to get myself nearly killed when Grungarr needed my help. I can't heal anybody if I'm dead, but it was a near thing. Even with my idiotic, not thought out, needlessly cruel spell, Grugarr and Chris both might have died, anyway.

And it's all because I couldn't think of anything better to do.

There's got to be something. Some way I, that we, can be better prepared. Some way that we can fight some damn fishes without getting half the souls in heaven killed in the bargain.

Tomorrow I'll spend in prayer to Pelor. Arcadius offered that he could help me with a ritual if I needed it, which shows how little he gets it. This isn't about rituals, it's about my soul and what the hell I'm doing. This one is between me and Pelor.

With luck, he'll show me something in myself that will be useful next time.

Next time. By Pelor's beard, why did it have to be me that got called to go adventuring? This isn't what I'm cut out for. Give me a nice town with a nice plague and a few broken arms, maybe a glass of ale, and I know what I need to be doing.

But adventuring? Hell, I don't know why anyone does this on purpose. But the gods call us to where we need to be, and Pelor says I need to be here.

So here I'll stay. And if I'm to be here, I'll not be the cause of another poor bastard ripped from his home to be eaten or blown up.

What I shall do instead, I can only hope that Pelor will tell.