Sign up for The JA Pitts Newsletter for upcoming events and special offers

Cleric Journal: Day Fourteen



I know as a novice, I’m supposed to be grateful for any wisdom, guidance or outright intervention one got from their deity. But even with the help of Toothy, the undead, my bad-ass mace and miles of water between me and the brigand’s encampment, I still peed myself twice when I heard unknown sounds from the swamp. I’m not ungrateful, trust me. I wasn’t stupid enough to complain. The next time I’d end up spider chow. But while I had the treasure on the raft, all of the food, water, extra clothes and my dignity was lost in the spider raid.

I stopped vomiting after another hour, but the hole in my side was black and ugly. I’m sure I was poisoned, but there was nothing I could do about it. I didn’t even have my mending kit I’d been using on my clothes. I’d lost literally everything I thought I needed for my adventure and the world was a hazy mess.

Out in the open, the sun beat down, and I passed in and out of consciousness. Three times I thought someone came to visit me. First is was Sister Edna who brushed the hair out of my face and kissed my brow. Second it was Sister Agnes who chided me for my lay-about ways, and finally it was Sister Vera who cackled when I told her how hot I was. She said I was bragging, but when she placed her cold hand on my side, I felt an immediate relief.

Dreams of a ravening mad man, I know. For when I woke late in the day, there was a leech the size of my arm attached to the wound in my side. It was bloated with the blood it had engorged on, but it was also dead. Somehow it had drawn the venom out of me as it feasted on my blood.

Good news, I probably wasn’t going to die from spider poison. Bad news, I was probably going to die of blood loss, exposure, dehydration or any other myriad of possible untimely accidents. But I’m not complaining.

I woke again long after dark with the raft butting against a sign that someone had staked into the opening to one of the channels cut deeper into the swamp. It read: Beware. Do not Trespass. Enter if ye seek yon death.

I was baffled by that last bit. Maybe it was written by dwarves.   Sister Edna said they talked funny.

To tell you the truth, I was feeling so horrible at that moment, I didn’t have the stamina to worship with anyone. Not even myself.

I recognized the sign from Sister Vera’s description, so I polled the raft around to enter the channel and pushed on for another hour before I found dry land once more. There were no trees around to hide giant spiders, so I was willing to give it a shot. I beached the raft and walked a little inland where I curled up and tried to sleep.

I awoke with a start a few hours later to see the two gnome undead staggered onto dry land with a pack held above their each of their heads. They’d recovered my personal effects from the spiders, including my fire starting kit, two small skins of the golden water, and my mending kit. Old Leech Eye had my second pack with my ritual supplies in it. Between the two I was able to clean my spider sting/leech bite wound and sew it closed before sitting down to enter today’s log.

I thanked the two dead gnomes. They both bowed (or staggered, it was hard to tell since some of the meat had been sloughed off of them over the last few days and battles. Whatever it was, they walked to either side of my little clearing, giving me a good twenty feet between me and them. One to a side. They would watch over me. I’m unclear what I had done to deserve this, but I could not decline their kindness. I never thought undead could be kind. Who knew?

Still, part of me wanted to give up and come home. This has been so hard at times, but I knew the three sisters wouldn’t want me to give up, and Brother Durham. Bastard. I know he would just laugh at me at every turn and that I could not stand.

Maybe tomorrow I’d find something to eat. The water filled my belly so I could sleep. Still, I really did feel like death warmed over.

Biting flies, logs with teeth, undead, leeches, and giant spiders. It couldn’t get worse, could it?

« | »

Leave a Comment

What I'm Reading


D&D 5E Player’s Handbook


Recent Comments


The wild ox; strength and power.


Creativity; words, music, and art.


The troll cross; wealth and prosperity.


The sun; energy, honor, guidance.


Personally earned or lucky wealth and prosperity.


The harvest; patience and promise.


The chariot; journey and travel.

Note: This is not the real book cover.