I have decided to try and hone my skills more
dedicatedly through practice. It is clear, after today, that unlike
Shadow of the Pride, who was reputed to be extremely dexterous, that
such a skill is not within my remit. If I am to survive better, then I
must put my trust in better armour and shields, ones that can soak up
the damage that my current armour simply is not strong enough to
deflect.
I am learning, no matter how often I am brought to the
brink of my life. I wonder often if that is one of the reasons it
happens so frequently; that my powers over that border between the two
states are at their height then. Or perhaps I am being granted reprieve
without having the knowledge or vision to see it other than in the
basics of being alive still.
Today we travelled to Thundertree,
a ruined settlement where one of the group I am travelling with, a
sorcerer by the name of Zenari, is hoping to speak to a wizard who has
taken up residence there.
As soon as we got to the outskirts, I
knew the place was teeming with dead, and undead. We could see them,
the ash zombies, but more than that I could feel the swathe of dead
filling that ruined town, layer upon layer. I will admit to being
concerned about being able to leave again without putting them to rest,
while knowing that my own powers have never come across such a scale of
dead before.
But move into the town we did, and it brought with
it an army of twigblights. They are small twig-like creatures I know
of from Shadow of the Pride's story, for they were mentioned several
times then, although thankfully for us it was only them, and not their
more powerful kin that were around. They attacked us in a great swarm,
and I had to hold ground between them and a couple of our number in
order to protect them from adding to the dead around us.
Once more I stood on that cusp on the very edge of death in that task.
Am I not yet comprehending a lesson I need to master, that it happens with such frequency?
The
day has been filled with other things I do not comprehend, and
truthfully have little wish to. A wizard's tower is not somewhere I
would ever have wished to enter without an invitation, but that is what
we did, and paid for it in frustration and wounds.
I sit now in a
library in the tower, waiting for an appointment with the wizard who
took it over. The view out of the window is not the view of
Thundertree, but some place where rocks floated in the air.
I do not like it here. Rocks should not float.
There
is a talking statue in the centre of the library that seems greatly
intelligent. I had only heard of such things before, and was eager to
utilise its font of knowledge, knowing that it, unlike real people,
would not become tired of such questions.
Sadly it knew nothing
of Shadow of the Pride, nor did it seem to know of the alterations in
Barovia's rule. I do not know if this is because the tales I heard were
untrue, or the statue's knowledge was not current. So far what I have
heard of her trip through Phandalin and the area around it seems far
more accurate than I had given credence to, and so I am cautiously
leaning towards it not having quite as up to date information.
It
did tell me a little about white dragons though, which may help us on
our journey, seeing as how the group seems set on either killing it or
driving it off. I know that my own task, if it is indeed still my task,
to go to the Icespire Peak to lay the dead to rest there, will require
the dragon not to be there, or at least to have some sort of agreement
with it in order to pass safely through what is now its territory. I
don't think that the rest of the group are in mind for talking with it
though, and I certainly am not skilled in negotiation either way.
Here
in this tower, I have never felt so far from the mountains. If the
view from that window is accurate, then it is likely I have never been
so far. I know a little of the planes, in so much that there are
different ones, and out of that window did not seem like our world at
all. I truly hope we are returned safely afterwards. I would not like
to be trapped here, no matter how ambient the temperature is. I miss
the mountains, and in a strange way I miss my clan, despite never having
been particularly close to them.
I think it is probably that I
miss normality and stability of purpose. Ever since coming to
Phandalin, I have had neither. I find myself merely following where the
group leads, having no better option for my time until I feel the pull
again, or move on. It is truly not what I am used to.
The dead
outside the tower were abundant, and I cannot help but wonder if this
chaotic path has led me to Thundertree in order to give them rest. It
is not the mountains, certainly, but even though I doubt my own inner
strength for the task, perhaps it would just take longer.
When the group move on from Thundertree, will I be with them? I do not know.