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Cleric Journal: Day Forty-Eight



It rained today. Not much of a surprise there. Only we didn’t really have any shelter. We started to move down into the lower level of the keep, but Tim said there were specters down there and I was not in the mood to deal with those cold assholes. All they do is moan and suck out your life force. I got enough of that from the other acolytes at the monastery.

Instead we sat along the wall where the tower had collapsed from our fire. Those stones were warm for a very long time.

I healed Tim a couple more times today, just to clear away lingering rot and decay. He had been in pretty bad shape. I also spent some quality time repairing his ruined robes. He mostly slept. I think he was more wounded than I noticed at first. Poor guy. They really got their asses handed to them by that dragon.

Turns out, Tim had already deciphered the singing heads. That’s how we now know what they truly said. I still think my interpretations were more accurate, but Liz was smug. I was right on a few lines, though. So eat that, Liz you big baby.

I’m just glad she can’t read common. I don’t want her to punch me in the other eye.

Here are the true lyrics.

The world is failing

The dark is nigh

Find the fool

Hear his reply

The dragon marks him

His fate is sealed

Bring us to him

The world be healed

Liz said I was the fool for traipsing through her swamp with the experience of a newborn and Tim laughed and laughed.

But the heads didn’t laugh. They stopped singing and looked at me like I had grown a … was gonna say second head, but that would be redundant, since they had three.

Let’s just say they looked at me with a strange, eager intensity that made me quite uncomfortable. Tim seemed to notice as well and stopped laughing and started choking. Liz laughed harder, though. Fell back on her tail and roared.

Of course, that’s when the thing from the moat got pissy since we’d quit feeding him. He started flailing out at us, tossing great stones and uprooted trees. We barely made it out of the courtyard and deeper into the interior of the moat house.

Tim hadn’t been lying. There were specters there. And giant rats, three skeletons, one grey ooze and seventeen Cornish pixies. I think the pixies were the nastiest things we’ve ever tangled with.

Seventeen rooms in all, one pit trap which Tim had already spotted long before we got to it, and a modicum of treasure. Tim let us keep all of it, as he owed us for saving his life. At least that’s how Liz put it to him as she was dividing up the loot.

Tim just laughed more. I think maybe he’s gone around the bend when the three heads had stopped singing. Liz had the heads in one of the satchels she carried, but said they kept biting her. It wasn’t until we’d totally cleared out the moat house did she finally try to give them back to Tim. Unfortunately he shook his head and pointed to me.

“I’ve been plagued by those things since I was a novice,” he said with a wicked, crazy grin. “If you’re the fool, so be it. I lost two of my best friends thanks to that dragon, and our thief just flat disappeared.”

Liz gave me a look and I nodded. Thief was definitely NOT the fool. He knew not to go up against a freaking adult black dragon. Turns out he was Halfling, too. I would’ve liked to talk to him about Kithri and the things she told me. And honestly I wanted to know how I could see her again. Now she was someone I would love to worship with. And barring that, I’d loved some more of that bread and honey.

One room had been used fairly recently and was somewhat clean and dry. Whomever had stayed here had cooked over a fire, so the ventilation had been decent. Also, there were gnawed bones. Looked like rat bones if you ask me. Tim didn’t care, just flopped down, pulled his pink, fuzzy hat down over his eyes and went back to sleep. Just before he nodded off he sighed and said it was the quietest moment he’d had in thirty-five years.

Liz whispered that it served him right for stealing the heads, but I think he traded his mother’s cow for them or something. Or so he alluded.

We ate more iron rations, chocking down the dry, crumbly things, but at least our bellies weren’t grumbling. I think we need to go for something along the protein line, without being fish. A man could dream.

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What I'm Reading


D&D 5E Player’s Handbook


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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.