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Cleric Journal: Day Forty-Six

DearFatherMulcahy

 

We slept in the middle of the courtyard. It really came down to the fact I didn’t have the strength to drag Liz anywhere. I was sorely wounded and she hovered near death. I managed a second healing for her and one for myself before I collapsed in exhaustion.

We got lucky. Nothing disturbed us. Frankly, it may have been one of the best night sleeps I’d had since leaving Sister Vera in that old tower of ours. Liz seemed to be doing better herself. Brother Charles remained dead. Liz took the longest two feathers from his tail and wove them into my hair. I would honor my friend by displaying his colors.

The bier we burned him on near noon created a riot of mixed emotions in me: grief, anger, sorrow, hunger. Hey, he smelled like roasted chicken. But I did not attempt to eat my friend. It would be unseemly. I may have drooled a little.

Once we were able to stand on our own feet, we explored the tower and found that the spiders had preyed upon many a weary traveler. We found sacks and pouches, packs and boots, hats, jerkins and other clothing… enough to open a little shop. That is, if you didn’t mind breaking apart the bodies that still wore the clothing. The spiders had sucked all the juice out of them long ago.

We also found some weapons, daggers, short swords, broken staves, bows and quivers. All in all enough broken and useless weapons to arm an undead army. Trust me, I said all the correct blessings before disturbing the dead. I was weak enough from the previous days battle not to want to go toe-to-toe with a hoard of disgruntled and dead adventurers.

And we found treasure. I ended up with a second pack and Liz now carries two satchels. I filled mine with small gems, two scroll cases and a small vial of some liquid which joined the potions I had recovered from the brigand camp what seemed like a lifetime ago.

There was a shield as well, in fairly good shape which I kept. It felt good on my right arm while I swung the mace I my left. I could sure see the value in that shield. Not only could I put it between me and whatever was trying to stab/slice/poke/crush/splice/bite and/or rend me, but I could also hit someone with it. Imagine me punching you in the face with a large metal wrapped wooden shield. Well, maybe not you specifically. Brother Durham, perhaps.

Liz said it made me look more like a warrior, and that she’d seen other dry-landers carrying such. She convinced me to take a small iron cap as well to protect my head, a pair of vambraces (leather) and a pair of greaves that only had a small amount of rust (steel).

Once I had it all on, I felt rather silly, but it was nice with the shield and the mace. Now if I had a nice chest plate I could pass for a true warrior of Semaunya (may her scales protect her better than my hodge-podge set of armor).

Liz also remarked about all the places I had scars and cuts and how the new bits of armor covered those areas so nicely. I was almost ready to get into another fight just to test out her theory. But I could wait.

Liz spent the better part of the afternoon dragging dead bodies out of the tower and tossing them off the draw bridge to the thing with all the tentacles. She thought it was funny. Once she grew bored of that, we set the place on fire. With all those thick webs, I was getting a creeping feeling that there could be spider eggs in that mess. I wasn’t taking any chances.

I was able to heal us some more by nightfall, but really we were just flat out exhausted. We drank our fill of water but planned to go hungry, that is, until our company arrived.

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What I'm Reading

 

D&D 5E Player’s Handbook

 

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Note: This is not the real book cover.