Agatha, Depthcaller, Phyora, Stitches, Tremere
Geokhan – Corgis Cont.
I have been told my records are looked upon as unkind for their form if not nature. It was not my wish to be unkind to others, only kind to myself. I now know there is an order to travels in these lands, and will put my trust in it to protect me as it has before. And so.
Phyora and I wished to travel to the farm which claimed attack by the ‘dire’ dogs, and were joined by Agatha, Deathcaller, and Tremere. I am not of mood to speak on my companions, only to note Agatha as lively and talkative as the spring pika despite her autumn years. She is remembered fondly.
Outside the comfort of town the sky poured rain, animals even, to Phyora’s displeasure. I think this odd for one who spent so much time on water, but I know little of sea or men. It was our fortune Agatha befriended the passing Count Montay, to magic a tent as our evening quarter. It was also Agatha who spotted the hostile grey dwarf, and attempted to fell the creature alone. It was her fortune Deathcaller roused us, as it struck blows to equal ours in number and landed them more easily than we. What strength its god offered did not outpace the mercies of the Seasons, and it was gradually worn to winter bone.
Arrival at the farm came with no greeting, no bleating of sheep or hail of those whose meal was left unfinished. Omen darked the sky as Phyora guided us along the line of their track to a broken town. It passed houses empty and burned by fire, ending in a thin pit – [fissure] – before a statue of Bhaal. From the pit came dark wisp figures whose touch drained life and breath from us. Agatha had little to spare, and though Tremere and I tried not even my most [fervent] prayer could bring spring to our companions. It took the effort of all to pull her body to the farm where I could prepare last rites. I am reminded of a smile my Dear’s words gifted once at such a struggle; “Strength! My only weakness!” It is honey and hemlock now.
In the deep of night as I kept watch over Agatha’s soul music met my ears. It met those of sleeping Phyora too, who began to follow in the footprints of those before. He was quickly roused from his stupor, and the music soon faded. I did not wish us to be there upon its return. Before our departure at dawn Fotz and Notz appeared to mourn the farmstead and its many children. Having hailed them on leaving town I now wonder how they appear so many places so quickly without danger. May they take care.
We traveled safely to town but did not stay, leaving again to retrieve Phyora’s horse. It seems no wish goes fulfilled in this land, as an arrow carried warning of Tsaran and we gave the bowman chase. We found him not, but his spent mount lay abandoned as he rode on with others on horseback. It gave me peace to tend the creature as I have many before, but the Seasons had spoken and its winter had come. Her children descended from the night sky and claimed it from me. I know she acts not in punishment, yet it is salt in the wounds of my heart. I am still so weak and so lacking and so alone in this land even with her mercies. I do not know if my summer is yet to come, or if it lies behind with the bodies on Iron Route. Honey and hemlock.
May you take care, as I cannot save you.
-XX