We survived, because there were not 40 orcs, but most of us were left shaken, myself and Zenari the most, for different reasons.
In
the midst of battle, I saw her magic had taken form somewhat like
myself, with viciously large teeth and claws, and she seemed to fly into
a rage beyond her usual character. By the end of battle with the rage
passing, she was once more clear thinking and covered in blood, mouth
crimson. Especially after I had heard of her private fear that she might
be evil without the influence of the creature she hosts, coming back to
herself in such a state was likely more than unsettling. I sat with
her in the aftermath in case she found comfort in that, but I had my own
reasons for seeking out the quiet of another person.
The fight
had not been an easy one, no matter that we had used clever strategy in
it. The sudden appearance of three ogres turned what should have been a
manageable fight to one that was certainly not. I found myself and Idris
surrounded by the three ogres, an orog, and two orcs, and despite my
hesitation about my new powers, I felt it was necessary for our survival
to use them.
I called forth what should have been spirit guardians, and indeed it did work as intended, but there was more.
In the heat of that battle, the graveyard mist that the 'guardians' exhibited surrounding me, I heard a voice in my thoughts.
"I see you, little cleric."
It
was not a voice that was in any way reassuring. It didn't even sound,
or feel, like something from this plane, or nothing that I recognised.
The voice was malevolent, and heavy, as if it was spoken by something of
huge size. Whatever my answered prayer had done, both this time and
the last, it had opened the way for that voice to get through. For it to
see and communicate with me.
I was so shaken by it that I lost
concentration on the spell shortly after, but things did not return to
normal. Other spells I cast in battle were altered, tainted maybe. What
should have been radiant damage came forth as necrotic instead. It did
little to settle my mind at the very time I was in most need of
clarity. I had to flee away from the heart of the battle when one hit
from an ogre decimated my health, leaving me once more on the cusp of
death.
I thought, in the aftermath of the battle, that it was the
end of the situation. I thought that it was only that particular spell
that was the problem. I was wrong.
Factoré had fallen in
battle, although Siax had managed to stabilise her condition. I cured
her wounds in the aftermath, but as the magic flowed through me I heard
another voice, a different one. This one was like a whisper, but no
less noticeable than the first.
"Why choose life when you could let death claim her?"
Perhaps
it was foolish of me, but I found myself answering it. The answer was
easy, having been part of my life for so long. No matter how unsettled
and even scared of these things I was, it was a truth that felt needed
to be spoken.
"I stand on the border. I take, and I give."
I got faded laughter in my thoughts; amusement that showed neither approval nor disapproval.
It left me then, or at least I heard nothing more.
As
the group investigated the ruined temple I sat with Zenari before
taking myself away from the place to wait for them. I had no wish to
risk the displeasure of another God at the ransacking of their temple,
no matter what Idris said. The last one had been abandoned too.
It
was only after we had left the place and later when the corpses of the
wererats that had betrayed us were on the ground, that I realised that I
had laid none of the orcs to rest. A whole temple filled with them lay
behind me and I had not even noticed in my distraction.
It
feels as if my granted power has opened a door that should otherwise
have stayed shut. My powers have never hinted at doing anything like
this before now, but I have no background teachings to seek answers
from, nor a mentor to ask. The mountains and necessity were my
teachers, and I had never before felt a lack for that, but this feels
dangerous. It feels precarious in a way that I would heartily warn
others to avoid. When we manage a better sleep tonight, I will not be
preparing that spell again, and just hope that I do not fall for the
lack.
I am eager for our return to the mine to be over so that
we can discharge our agreement with the miners and move on. I could
perhaps seek the knowledge of the priests in Phandalin, for although
they do not appear very powerful, they may have been taught knowledge
that I have no access to. While my spells have always come naturally,
perhaps some require additional protection that I do not know of.
But
the knowledge and memory linger unsettlingly within me. The malevolent
voice especially in its threat. When our tasks are complete at the mine,
perhaps I too should more seriously consider laying down my clerical
skills if this is what power brings. The Rockseeker brothers were
seeking that fortress near the mine, and so perhaps they will want a
hand in its excavation or reinforcement. If I could hone and master
better skills as a mason, it would give me a task that could sustain me
as the years pass.
The thought of giving up my path is extremely
disquieting, but the voices remain sharp in my memory, and I have never
considered myself a fool. There is danger there, and my skills were
never meant to be used for that purpose.