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Cleric Journal: Day Eight



I left Sister Vera sleeping in our order’s abandoned tower just before sunrise. She looked so peaceful with a silly grin on her craggy face. I kissed her on the forehead before taking up my pack and making for her village. You’ll like her. If you look past her cursing and spitting you will see a dynamic and very loving individual who just needs to be treated with kindness and respect.

She mentioned that the villagers kept several rafts just north of their common hall and that I was free to borrow one. I mean, as much as I just love trudging arse deep in brackish water with all the filth and sundry biting things that live there, the thought of being above the muck had some appeal. Don’t get me wrong, the mule was boon companion, one of diligence and sacrifice. Of course, he died. But a raft? That would be glorious.

I just can’t help but smile at the thought of Sister Vera telling me to go forth in her good name and claim one of the rafts. Her generosity fills me with hope and wonder.

Which had me contemplating the nature of our mighty Semaunya (may her aloofness reign supreme) . If my meager skills at healing can bring such joy and peace to one as crotchety and ornery as Sister Vera was just a mere day ago, what more could we do to help the world? I know our great mistress would prefer we not get emotionally attached to one another, but I think this may be one area where I will fail her. Sister Vera has the cutest little dimple when she smiles.

I spent the better part of the day working my way through fens hillocks, avoiding the deeper pools and quick sand. It made for slow going, but I was able to keep my most treasured parts above the water line. Despite the heat, flies, and other swampy things, the sheer act of approaching the village gave me a glad heart and a light spirit. I was off on the next stage of my grand adventure.

Paused to make a note before I got to the village. There were at least a dozen undead outside the tower when I left this morning, just standing around. I was quite flummoxed as how to proceed, but inspiration struck. I raised the mace in a warding gesture and the fetid walkers parted before me like an honor guard. I’m not really sure what that was all about, but it sure was daunting walking past them, especially when they closed ranks behind me and began to follow me.

I tried to stay on the more solid ground, but the swamp just wasn’t cooperating. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make these robes white again. I must look horrible.

I saw six snakes today, half a dozen toads and of course, the log with teeth who seemed to be following as well. I’m not sure what to make of all of it. Sister Vera assured me that the village was on an island, so I had that to bolster my flagging spirits.

Oh, and discovered a new scourge. Leeches. The phrase — kill it with fire — could’ve very well been coined for leeches. Fire did the trick, but they were a bugger to get off the back of my thighs without burning myself. Did manage to singe most of the hair off my arse. I don’t think Sister Agnes would’ve minded.

Still… leeches. Yuck.

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What I'm Reading


Ernest Cline

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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.