More fighting. We did not even make it half way to Leilon from Phandalin before we found battle once more, but it was the sort though, the situation, that is worrying. Zenari had left one night in the hope of leading the assassin away from us, self-sacrificing, but that is clearly what she feels her path should be, and so I do not question it. Everyone must do as they feel they must. But I will admit that I could have done with her brand of magic in the situation at that waystation.
The place we found ourselves at was being consistently attacked by zombies, a wave of them every half a candlemark. Some people had fallen already, more fodder against those within. The zombies themselves had a brand on them, one I recognised from my pendant before the ruby had been subsumed into it. It was a mark of the Three, but different now from my own.
Needing guidance, I cast a spell to commune with the Three, and while I got answers, they were not the conversations with them that I have been used to. They seemed distracted by other things, and their answers left me with a lot of guesswork to be done about the situation.
It seemed as though the undead attacking the inn were working in their favour, but for us to remain safe we would have to kill them. I knew there would be no moving on from the building, not with Siax and Idris focused on those that had taken shelter at the inn, and there was no one visible that might be reasoned with. I offered some warning, should the one controlling them be watching, but it made no difference.
The wraiths that attacked pulled and broke the souls of those they killed, turning them into spectres. It felt utterly wrong to me, and in that wrongness I have to wonder if this behaviour was in the Three's favour as had been insinuated, or if it was something that wraiths did intrinsically. I cannot think it was the former, for those souls were broken, unsalvageable. They would never find rest, and in that surely they would be of no use to the Three. Putting souls to rest is my calling, and my calling comes from the office of Death. Whatever it is that has created those wraiths needs to stop, or at least control them better.
Strangely, one of the wraiths said to me "There can only be one." I do not know what it was referring to. It worked with other wraiths, and seemed intelligent, so I do not know what it was referring to. I was called to the region by the Three, whom they seemed to be tied to in allegiance, as well as encouraged by Jergal to go and look. There is much that I do not grasp here, and the Three are silent again.
Another oddity is the bard that was in the tavern, Tarbin Tul. He professed no magical skill, and yet unlike the other general civilians there, he showed no fear, no intrinsic worry over his continued health in the face of fatal danger. Either the man is touched in the head, or he feels he has some protection from the attacks. It makes me suspicious of him, as any oddities would in a situation like that. If he is not touched in the head, then it is possible he is in league with whomever has called these attacks, and is there to watch and take note of things.
Perhaps I am predisposed towards worrying about tests, considering Axeholm and the Three, but there is more going on with the attacks than is obvious. Those wraiths could easily have killed each and every one of the inhabitants of the inn during the first attack, and yet they did not. Perhaps it is paranoia to think that it is somehow us that the attacks were waiting for, a lure and a siege while the one who conducted it seeks the outcome. What outcome, I do not know. Why would someone who serves the Three attack another?
Either way I will watch those around us, and warn Siax as well. Idris already shows signs of his abundant friendliness, and a somewhat more watchful mind will be needed for this task.
-==I==-
I rested and tried to find more answers about the broken souls, but neither answers nor rest seemed accessible. The weariness from the wraith's attack lingers. It told me it knew what I was, and then used that knowledge against me, decimating my health in such abundance in an instant before I managed to slay it in turn. I feel weary, as if the weight of life is that much heavier in the aftermath.
We move on to Leilon with Falcon, Factoré, and Gheldryn, as well as five others. A green skinned elf summoner by the name of Arya, a half-elf that seems to favour the rapier, and the bard and the two of his band that remained amongst the living. I do not trust these newcomers, but I am weary and ornery today.
There will be no privacy to be had, with the green elf around. Her senses are too keen. She heard my questions to the Three the evening before, even over the tavern noise and a floor away. Still, some meditation might be of use to speak with the Three perhaps, if they have the time to spare on me. They have ways of keeping such interactions from others.
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Next entry: Journal entry 2_03 - Questioning