It has become clear that the problem I've been facing will not be resolved by abstinence.
After
the ruined temple of orcs, and the betrayal by the wererat leader, we
had rested, and I had not prepared the spells I had used before, hoping
that would be enough to stop the strangeness from continuing, at least
until I could leave the group and set that part of my life aside.
We
returned to the mine only to find the dwarves dead, but as we were
delving deeper to find the culprits and any survivors, time seemed to
slow and stop around me, the movements, the sounds from those in the
group were not moving at all. The mist that I had become more used to
seeing and feeling when summoning the spirit guardians appeared all
around us, although I seemed to be the only one aware of any of this. I
had cast no spell, nor summoned any power, yet there it was, and with
it, a figure made of that mist stood, straight backed with his hands
clasped behind him in a way that seemed indicative of military
training. He stood there, powerful and imposing, and I had done nothing
to call him from the spectral border.
"Tell me, you have the power to bring this one back to life, do you not?"
His
voice found me, clear and in command as I was not. It seemed to
indicate the dead dwarf we had just passed, one I had heard expire only
moments before we had entered the passageway. The spirit's voice showed
a curiosity, one that reminded me that it was that which had caught the
spirits' attention the first time I had called upon the spell. The
spirit, or whatever it was, clearly wanted answers enough to bring forth
its presence from wherever it had hailed from, and without any aid from
myself in the process. I could do nothing but agree, for I am not in
the habit of lying, and I saw no reason to do so. It clearly had more
knowledge of the powers than I did, and likely far more knowledge and
experience of the world too, if his demeanour was anything to go by.
"And yet you don't. Why is that?"
The
truth was not pretty, and I knew that the majority of the group would
likely condemn me for it, and yet they did not seem aware enough to
listen at that moment in time where this spirit had halted its passing
on a whim.
"The companions here are more useful," I told him,
after a moment's hesitation. It was the truth, harsh and unvarnished,
but so too was the world. One life tended to have just as much weight
as another, and while I was cautiously fond of a couple of the group, it
didn't alter the fact that my presence with them was one of
practicality. I had needed them to see my own tasks completed, and the
diamond that was used to fuel a spell as powerful as reviving the
recently dead was not one that I could find again with any ease. If it
needed to be consumed to revive someone, then one of the group I
travelled with would be a better recipient.
I didn't know how
this spirit would view the truth I had offered, but he did not appear
displeased. More thoughtful than anything in his answer.
"Use.
An interesting way of measuring a person. Yes, this is the correct
approach, some beings are more of use than others. I like the way you
think. We should speak again."
With that, he disappeared, as
did the mist, and time reasserted itself seamlessly, and none of those I
was with appeared wise to the fact that anything had occurred.
The
event left me shaken, as one might expect, but also both resigned and
slightly reassured. It was clear that my participation and actions were
not required in order for the spirits, or whatever they were, to talk
to me. Not only talk, but to alter my spells as I had seen at the
ruins, appear visibly, and also to have such control and nuance over
time itself in order to speak to me. Their knowledge and skill seemed
to far surpass my own. There would be no escaping their presence, that
much was clear to me. Whatever my use of the spell had initially
released, that door could not be closed. I had no idea if it even was a
door, rather than it merely being that whatever I had done had
interested them enough to look my way. They clearly had the power to do
as they pleased without my aid.
Thankfully that one did not appear malicious in temperament as at least one of the previous ones had.
As
we fought to clear out the mine of the wererats, I found myself
lamenting the fact that I did not have those spells prepared after all.
It would have made the fight that much quicker and easier if I'd had
access to them. If the spirits came whether I cast those spells or not,
there would be no escape from their notice, and I would be best using
the spells than not, lest I end up in their number through failure.
We
found the mine foreman still alive, but he was cursed by the wererats
with their lycanthrope. I could sense it, tainting him from within, not
fully altered, not yet, but there. Thankfully I was able to focus my
mind and cure him of it with my powers. It had not been easy, not with
how virulent the curse was, but I managed.
It was only after it
was done, that I realised that Idris also had the early stages of the
same curse, and unfortunately I did not have the power reserves left to
help him after the fight.
We had rested not long before, and I
knew myself enough that I would not be able to sleep again so soon in
order to regain my reserves. For every moment that curse was left, so
too would it only strengthen, making it far more difficult to remove.
It was Zenari that offered a potential solution. She suggested I use
her magic as a source for the spell.
I had never heard of such a
thing, none of us had, but she seemed confident and determined, and I
had been reminded not long before that although my understanding of
clerical spells was deep enough to grasp those spells, others, even
spirits, could command similar powers in a different way. Who was I to
say what might be possible or not? The wound on Idris was strongly
tainted, and I knew that without the paladin if he succumbed I would
struggle to protect the group during attacks.
I agreed to try.
We
prepared as much as we could, and when I reached out to grasp that
power, at first I only felt my own weariness, but then after a moment
magical energy suffused me in great abundance, far too great abundance.
All around us the clanging sound of metal upon metal was heard, growing
greater and greater until it was painful to hear. Underneath me the
ground warped and melted, my paws sinking deep into the earth, even as
the spell cast with such great force that Idris was knocked back across
the chamber. Thankfully although he was slightly hurt, the curse had
been wiped from him in the process. It was not clean or orderly, and
the magic was odd and strange to me in a way that set my fur on end, but
it had worked.
Zenari's magic seemed to speed and twist after
that, and then with a great flash a huge creature appeared amongst us,
confused and then enraged. An owlbear had been teleported into the mine
with us, and it was not at all pleased.
I was mostly helpless in
that fight, seeing as how my legs had been trapped in the very earth
that had solidified around them. Both Zenari and Idris were rendered
unconscious, but we prevailed. I managed to save Idris when he fell a
second time in battle, and Zenari was set on saving the owlbear, as she
blamed herself for its predicament.
I freed myself from the stone
around me with a deftness of skill with the masonry tools I hadn't
realised I had, and we all left the mine once more.
Outside Siax
was talking to the mine foreman, and I was listening with only one ear,
my own thoughts having been given time once more to consider what had
transpired when we had entered. But it was something that was said that
made me involve myself.
For all that the foreman's entire job
was to oversee the running of the mine, he seemed eager to pass on any
work to others, such as our group, rather than do it himself. He told
us he was just going to hide out until things were calm again, and I
thought it a foolish thought. Nowhere near the Icespire peaks was going
to be calm. The dragon had displaced so many creatures, from the
winterwolves, to the orcs, not to mention that Neverwinter was cut off
because of the plague. There would be no rest until he was in his
grave, I told him, because in this land that was surely true. No matter
where he went, there would be trouble of one sort or another, and
thinking he could avoid it was folly.
But I was reminded again
that my views were not universally shared. I think perhaps Siax might
have thought me being cruel or nasty in those words, where it was merely
the unvarnished truth. I do not wrap my words in pretty lies that
mislead merely to salve the feelings of others when truth would be more
useful to them. Either way he left us to head south, away from
Phandalin and the prospect of gaining local miners. What he did with
himself, and my words, I care little for. I'd offered him what wisdom I
could, and it was up to him what to do with that.
People seem
to like their obfuscations and placations, but I have little time for
them. I got the feeling that perhaps the spirit, or whatever it was I
spoke to earlier, would have understood me in that better than the
group. Maybe it was his military manner. Whether truth or mere
imagination, I could imagine him standing over a great map of war having
to make practical decisions that involved lives with a far greater
number than my own actions have. A person like that could see the
bigger picture.