Day 1 (Early Morning):
Okay, so the whole damn town is having some kind of crazy warrior celebration (I thought I’d come to Mendev to get away from that tripe), and I’m expected to show up and “train.” If the demons come, what possible use am I going to be to the defense of the town. I am a baker. Is this not why we have the crusaders?
At any rate, I’ve got my rusty old dagger, I’ve brought a few potion components in case I need to put on a lights show, and I’ll hang back and hope nobody notices my lack of participation or enthusiasm.
Day 1 (Evening):
By Desna, even after the life I’ve lived, I can hardly imagine a worse day than the one I just had. As the Storm King of legend smashed the city, Terendelev sacrificed himself to save only a few, and sacrificed his own scales so that we might have a hope of escape. I had dreamed of one day meeting Terendelev, learning from him, and now I’ll never have that chance. His last act was undoubtedly noble. But not only has he only doomed us to a longer, more painful death, I cannot imagine a less deserving group of survivors. The appointed leader, Addit, is a young girl, with noble intentions, but no practical experience, and a cripple to boot. There’s the pretty idiot, Dalin. There’s Dave, a typical idiot half-orc who won’t shut up about his goat. Then we’ve got Aravashnial, who seems pleasant enough, but is completely blind, and Anevia, a skilled archer with a bum leg.
Together we were able to muddle our way through a number of encounters with horrible insects and some kind of undead monster, and now we’re sitting in a cursed church with the monster’s corpse just… laying there. Tomorrow we head off in some random direction with the hope that it just happens to lead us to the surface, and doesn’t get us eternally lost in these caves. Also, most of these idiots seem to think that the only way to fight is to get up close with their opponents. I’ve created a cocktail of chemicals that would handily clear a room, but I can’t quite bring myself to murder my only companions. Besides the fact that I’m not a murderer… not really.
At least there’s Horgus. Somebody here has to have some civility and class.
Horgus is an idiot.
He’s a useless waste of space who cowers at the sight of blood, picks fights with anyone and everyone, refuses to help lead Aravashnial, though he’s one of the only other people here who seems to have any sense.
At any rate, I’m starting to feel a bit more optimistic. We’ve run across a fascinating race of mongrel men, who have apparently been living in these caves for generations. They run a small, functioning society down here. Better, their chieftain seems to know a way back up to the surface. Even here, in the underground, where no light shines and few books are read, there’s more civilization than one can find in a barbarian horde. Addit told an interesting story of how she lost her foot. A barbarian tribe attempted to sacrifice her to one of their dark gods. Those savages would pray to The Storm King himself, and think that he was their friend, even as he crushed them alive!
I’ve clearly misread Dave. A thinker and “philosopher,” he’s unlike any half-orc I’ve ever met before. He studies the arcane arts, and has a natural gift for it. He is a wizard who can prepare spells from his book in only a few seconds. Can you imagine? It takes me longer to create and drink a potion. I’d love to review his spell book. I’m sure some of the spells could be recreated in an extract.
I’ve been experimenting with my makeshift bombs throughout the day. If I angle the throw just right, and use magically enhanced chemicals, the flames seem to sweep around my allies. Of course, a miss would still be a disaster.
We’re going to die. We’re all going to die.
We’re in some kind of compound, run by mad mongrel men and crazed cultists. We’ve bedded down in their anteroom. We have no choice, we’re too exhausted to go on.
Twice now, I’ve been left standing while all the others have fallen, though if I’m being honest, I think these cultists are targeting the holy warriors, and largely ignoring the baker. That’s what I would do.
I’ve never tried the drugs I’ve come across in my alchemical studies before. Even in my darkest moment, these items seemed to monstrous to contemplate. To turn myself into a mindless brute, the thing I hate most in the world, for even a few moments, wasn’t to be contemplated. But I believe I shall carry a vial tomorrow. Just in case. Better to be mindless than dead.