Shullat: Still in Hrogar's Camp

I prayed tonight.

I have prayed before, since I have awoken. I have cried to Al'Tyr in the night, trying to figure out where my god has gone, why he has not joined us in the battle.

And always I have heard silence.

When I traveled the plains, when I found myself on the Celestial plane, I asked about him. Asked how many followers he had, where he was worshiped.

And I learned, there, that my greatest fear has been realized.

Al'tyr is gone.

Where, no one knows. If he is still a god, no one knows.

I have not prayed since.

Tonight, on the eve of the battle, it seemed that I ought to pray to someone. Someone who belonged to this fight. Someone whose warriors I have found to be worthy.

I found myself praying to Pelor.

I gave him my doubts. I gave him my confusion over his supposed compassion. I gave him my anger that he allowed the Aboleth to rise again. I gave him my fear, my doubt, and my anger.

And he gave me... peace.

Nothing more. Just peace. A sense that what had happened, happened according to some great reason, and that whatever happens when we attack will happen for the same reason.

For the first time since I have returned, I slept through the night.

I think that I understand, now, how such a god requires such followers as Arcadius and Azan. Perhaps he is more potent than I gave him credit for.