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Cleric Journal: Day Fifty-Four

DearFatherMulcahy

 

Woke up just before dawn. I’d fallen asleep on my watch. Holy mother of lizards, we could’ve died. As it was we were only robbed. And by robbed, I mean all our gear was gone. I’m not sure why we hadn’t been killed in our sleep, but Liz was righteously pissed off.

They took her spear, they took my spear, they took our gear. They even tried to take my mace, but as we discovered with the Bullywogs, if you are a nasty sort, the mace really doesn’t want you touching it. They did manage to drag the spear a hundred rods or so northward before giving up. Based on the footprints and flesh left behind by whomever had tried to grab my mace, we were dealing with small creatures with scales.

Kobolds, Liz whispered, cracking her knuckles in a way that incited violence.   I was right there with her. They’d even taken the talking heads. I can just imagine whoever carried that satchel was not having the best of times. But we needed that gear. It had everything, the potions, my armor (as hodge-podge as it was), those two scrolls, my cook pot, knives and worst of all, this journal.

Yes, this journal. How, then, you may very well ask, am I writing in the journal if the kobolds had taken it. Well, good for noticing the detail, and it’s a tale worthy of bards. Of course, it is really three days later and I’m writing each day from memory. I didn’t want to break the rhythm of the journal. I’m sure you understand. You were a stickler for rules and patterns. I always assumed an orderly life meant an orderly spirit and an orderly relationship with Semaunya (who seems a little less anal-retentive about such things, praise be).

Liz was a decent enough tracker and I had some skills of my own. After a heated argument and a quick bout of mending on my part, I whipped up a small pack out of the remains of our reed floats and several strips ripped from the bottom of my robes. This Liz took and filled with fist size rocks, nearly a dozen, that she would use as ranged weapons.

“Kobolds die quickly,” she assured me. “There are just more of them than you think. Like a swarm of Zipplets.”   NOTE: Zipplets are small fish the size of my fist who can peel the flesh off a bone faster than Brother Durham can finish worship (gauging by Sister Agnes’ complaints). They tend to swarm in groups beyond counting and can scour a river or lake of all living matter before moving on.

Biting fish do not sound fun.

Luckily for us, we owned a lot of gear. This proved difficult for a handful of Kobolds to carry. They weren’t that large and my shield alone took two of them to carry. This is how we caught up to them. The band of kobolds were resting not two leagues from where we camped. They hadn’t taken the time to cover their tracks and Liz was hell bent to get her spear back. Seems it had belonged to her older sister. When I asked her why she had her older sister’s spear she told me to shut up that I would scare away the kobolds. Rather rude, I thought. Something to delve into later.

We came upon them from the south. I counted eleven of the little squealers, but Liz assured me there were twice that number, some were waiting in ambush. How right she was. She threw a mean stone, let me tell you. I was thinking about rushing into the clearing and laying waste with my mace when she launched the first missile. It connected with a meaty thump, but I didn’t see who she hit until a body fell from the sky. That’s when I saw that some kobolds could fly. Stirges were bad enough, but flying kobolds? Not sure who thought that was a good idea.

That explained Liz’s extra kobolds. I really needed to look up more. I was missing out on a whole sector of attack. You’d have thought that Brother Charles would have convinced me of that. Well, him and the damned stirges.

To make matters worse, flying kobolds had their own stones. Liz barked at me to circle around to the east and she dodged west, knocking two more kobolds out of the sky before crashing into the thick underbrush. I waited about one more second, just listening to hear if they’d struck her, and dashed to my right.

She was drawing the guards away, giving me time to get into the camp. It was a brilliant plan.

Two things.

I’m not the most lithe individual on the material plane.

Also…

Kobolds set traps.

These were things made clear to me as I was swinging by my ankles upside down, about a kobold’s height off the ground. I had NOT dropped the mace, you’d be proud to know. Of course, my robes fell down over me, revealing my small clothes and covering my view. I tried to pull the material out of my face but only succeeded in providing the biggest of the tiny kobolds a clear shot at my head.

You may also like to know that Brother Durham was correct in his assessment that I had a very thick skull. When something small, round and hard made contact with my head, it was like that time you caught me watching Sisters Edna and Ida worshiping in the communal bath. I’m not sure what you hit me with, but I remember seeing stars for a very long time. This was like that. I found out later it was a sling stone. Kobolds are crazy accurate with those things. If they weren’t such jerks, I may have liked to learn from them. Well, the fact they were evil, thieving scum didn’t increase our odds of exchanging skills. Side note, Kobolds spoke Lizard Folk. I find that fascinating.

That pretty much ended my fifty-fourth day on this grand adventure. Just a further note to assuage your worry. Liz did far better than I. But that is news for the following day. Must see to proper protocol.

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D&D 5E Player’s Handbook

 

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Uruz

The wild ox; strength and power.

Ansuz

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Othala

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Sowilo

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Personally earned or lucky wealth and prosperity.

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Note: This is not the real book cover.