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Cleric Journal: Day Thirty-Two



I miss my mom, did I ever tell you that. I’m mad at her too, but I didn’t really know her. Brother Durham is a jerk for always making fun of me about my mom. I remember seeing her I think. Really I remember a smell of ale and a shock of red hair. Does that sound like her? Did she love me, do you think?

I had to cry a little after that first entry, but it passed. I was able to pole the raft deeper into the swamp today. Not by much, but the flora is changing. Before there were thriving trees, vines, all manner of flowing plants and shrubbery where ever there was a bit of soil near enough to the surface of the water.

Now things are growing darker. Well, perhaps growing is the exact opposite word I should be using. I think I’m entering a section of the swamp that is suffering from horrible rot and decay. Not the average rot and decay you find in a swam, either, but super accelerated, foul smelling and pukey kind of rot.

I saw something else today that gives me pause. Traps.

Not people traps or anything. You can relax. Fish traps. Like folks were trying to catch fish here. I hauled several up, but they held nothing. I decided to keep one of them. They had a hollow gourd floating on the surface, with woven vines connected down to the bent wood and vine fish traps. They are fairly ingenious but are unfortunately starting to fall apart. Since I was feeling pretty lonely and hadn’t seen another individual since Kithri I decided to do my good deed.

I practiced the mending spell for a few hours, reshaping the fish traps, solidifying the rotting vine ropes and even resealing the hollow gourds. Seems like the least I could do since I was basically stealing one of the three traps. Hopefully it could be considered a barter, my repairs for the use of one of the traps? I’m going with that answer.

I put the other traps back, but I don’t think anything caught in these waters would be worth eating. Not mine to judge. Next time I made camp on an island, or even decided to hang around a nice place with some fish, I’d be trying to catch one.

For now, I poled the raft onward, hoping that whomever set those traps originally were doing okay.

Which got me to worrying. What if some poor fisherman was sick lying in his bed with nary a bite and no clean water? Of course, I couldn’t heal him, nor provide any food, but I could offer him a clear drink of wine.

Seemed like the neighborly thing to do, so I set out to explore this part of the swamp a little more thoroughly.

It was a swamp after all, so I decided on a plan. It was a cunning plan, that couldn’t possibly fail. I took up some of the useless electrum coins from the treasure boxes and with careful application of the mace, drove several into each tree as high as I could reach from the raft. I didn’t mark every tree, but enough to see those useless and fraudulent coins wherever I was on the raft. This way, I could always tell where I’d been so I wouldn’t go in circles. Let Brother Durham suck on that.

It was brilliant, let me tell you. Only took me half a day to find the village close by. Unfortunately it was abandoned. But, believe it or not, it was one of the first hopeful signs I’d seen related to my quest. I think this village was once home to a clan of Lizard Folk.

I know, I was so excited I almost wet myself. Okay, with these long robes, and the humidity I bet I could wet myself and never really know the difference.

Which reminded me in a big way, that I’d been neglecting my prayers and my sublimation. I wandered the little village for an hour or more before I went to the central altar. There I meted out a full draft of wine and said my prayers to the great Semaunya (may she forgive my addled mind). This alter had seen used to make sacrifices, I was sure of it. There was much scarring and a dark staining that could only be blood.

You know how you assume one thing and spend your whole life working on that assumption, only to be faced with a new set of parallel input which totally paints the events which formed the assumption into a whole new light?

Yeah, that happened here. One moment I was praying to Semaunya (may her people find their way home) and the next I flashed back to the first tower in the swamp. There was a table there similar to this altar. It had similar stains and marks, I would stake my life on it.

Does that mean I just spent the last of my wine, and a good solid hour praying at a butcher block? I could be so stupid sometimes.

Hopefully the great Semaunya (may her worshipers prove more astute than this humble servant) will forgive me my mistake. I’m just glad no one witnessed it. It’s bad enough having erred alone.

I returned to the raft to sleep. I did not want to presume to take up residence in this village. There had been violence here enough. I did not want to take advantage while they were away.

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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.