I write now when I should not have been able to. I write now with hands that are steady, but are they alive?
I fell at the blade of the assassin that went after Zenari. He was seeking information on her whereabouts, and dispatched me with skill that is to be feared. And yet, here I am, on the mountain now with the rest of the group, despite having passed from the mortal realm, reborn into a body that is familiar and yet unfamiliar.
I met Jergal, the God, or former God of the dead, when I passed over, the one who had given up his power to the Three. I stood in his library, and he offered me a deal, but one that felt too close to future betrayal, too close to veering into politics and double crossing for me to be easy with it. I had already made an agreement, already set my path, and he wished for me to alter it in his favour. I do not know the why's, or the ramifications, but I could not agree. His offers left me with the impression of casual opportunism, trying to take what others had worked for, and it did not sit well with me.
I know that I may very well become a servant, even a slave to their wishes, as he said, once my task has been completed in accordance with my deal with the Three, but I have always understood that. They understand my need to do the tasks on the mountains, and they have helped me over my life to accomplish that. Even should I end up merely doing their bidding in such a way, I do not think I will be held back from also doing my own duty, and that is enough for me. I do not doubt that they have grander plans, and that I will be pulled into aiding in those, but it was my agreement to make. I cast my lot in with them, and to them it will stay.
Jergal did not seem to be put out by my denial of his wishes, even when I turned it down a second time. Instead he sent me back, altered in the way that the Three had promised. I found myself outside the Golden Toe Gold Mine where the rest of the group were situated, all my worldly belongings still with me. Is there even a body back where I fell? Did the assassin watch it fade away to another plane, or are my bones still there, laying beside the road on the way to Axeholm?
I truthfully cannot say that I am alive any more. My fur is different, bleached of colour except for dark around my eyes, reminiscent of a skull, my eyes are scarlet. I do not breathe. I do not feel hunger or thirst. I do not have the ability to sleep. I sit here now while the others rest when I was unable to. I managed to focus enough to alter the preparations for my spells, almost trancelike as I have seen Siax do, but I do not know if I am alive, and the others are ill at ease when looking at me. They have never been comfortable around the subject of death. Few are.
If I survive the dragon and complete my task for the Three, I can see how this new form will be useful. With less physical needs it will make my work easier. No need to carry heavy rations, less chance of being ambushed if I am awake constantly.
Will I age? The thought of living like this, of being like one of the sentient undead that walk the land for centuries, it is not something that bothers me. We currently are resting in a cave where the dead body of a climber still lays frozen. It was a tiefling, caught in a storm, likely the one the dragon had brought with it. I put him to rest, and I had not realised the sheer relief, the sheer feeling of satisfaction and rightness that doing the task brought me. It has been about three months since I joined this group, and no matter the events and circumstances, no matter that I am fundamentally different than before, this feeling remains, perfect in its clarity. It is what I am meant to do. So the thought of continuing on, for years, for centuries, it does not hold fear or dismay, but something far closer to relief, that I will be able to continue to do this task when few others would be suitable to take it up in my stead.
Jergal told me that the amulet was a fragment of power that had been released upon the death of the Three, and it makes it far more understandable that they would therefore be invested in me when Myrkul has said it has bound itself to me, and Bhaal has told me that its power was growing.
I do not doubt that I will be sent on more tasks by them to increase the power of the amulet, for their own use, possibly to the Mere of Dead Men, since that was something Jergal was interested in. I am also not unaware that once it reaches a certain point, that they may take my life, my soul, and this power, as their own. The stories all tell of their hunger for power, after all, and they will probably want this fragment back. Many would fear this, and truthfully I do not relish the thought of ceasing to exist, but I suppose it is the way of things. Assuming I manage to survive this task, I can at least start looking for an apprentice more seriously, and perhaps that will help them too, since Gods, possibly even dead ones, gain power from worshippers.
Does my agreement with them mean that they are my Gods now even if they are shades of what they once were? If so, does my having this fragment of power make them in turn more powerful compared to a normal worshipper? Would Jergal have gained that, if I had agreed to alter my path for him? A cleric's worship is based on choice, after all. I do not know, but it makes a certain amount of sense.
It was Jergal's power that sent me back, rather than their own. Perhaps that too gives them more power to wield, for not having to expend it. Perhaps, no matter his queries, Jergal finds interest and benevolence towards the Three who he once gave his power. His words about the Mere of Dead Men may in fact have been a message to them. A guide, or a warning. We know the cult of Talos has someone that way. Strategy is something Bane would likely have far more insight in than I.
The group is waking now, grumbling stirrings in the chill of the cave. We continue our ascent up the mountain to the dragon. I cannot fall again, or this second chance will be for naught. I worry that the group is not up to it. With both Koraliki and Falcon gone, and the addition of Tokk who despite his strength is not greatly experienced or understanding of a battle like this that is more than brute strength, success seems dubious. Siax is still distracted over Falcon, and the group's general unsettledness around me now maintains. I fear we are not nearly cohesive enough as a force for a battle like this.
We will do our best, which is all anyone can do. I just hope it is enough.