Strange events. Successfully returned to the orcs’ cavern. Managed not to get themselves killed, despite Temple’s best efforts to the contrary. Everyone at Fort Fallcrest will sleep better knowing they’re gone.
Except me. Last night… defies explanation. Yet I know what happened as well as I know my name, and the wounds I suffered are as real as the scars I bear.
I never cared to learn of the ways of the spirit, and I know little of worlds beyond. Yet I knew in a moment we were somewhere were not meant to be. The mage, myself, Temple, another. A swordmaiden of Sigmera. I remember her, barely a woman then, too eager for the attack. I sparred with her then, and every time she showed an opening large enough to drive an oxcart through. I left her bruised and panting, told her that her goddess wouldn’t blunt the blades of men who sought to do her harm. She appears to have taken that lesson to heart.
The mage was walking with Death, but no death I know. I know Death as a black dog, a scavenger of the battlefields. An impartial, self-serving, opportunistic Death, as content with a noble as a foot soldier, an Ordean as an orc. I’d call it a vision but he did not heed our call or acknowledge our presence.
We followed to a killing field, full of shades of a time long ago or yet to come. Thousands fleeing the south. I shoved open the gate to Fort Fallcrest, yet… we turned back. Providence said so, and we followed. We always goddamn follow.
We found a memory, a creature wearing the skin of a boy who may have been or may yet be… he told Temple many things. He bewitched him as well. Led us into a trap, ambushed by monsters with the heads of goats and the tails of scorpions, armed with strange venom.
I would have dismissed it all, but the poison lingers in my veins. Hard to write a goddamn field journal when every few lines I just – lose time. It’s as if the world takes a step forward around me. Temple says I disappear, but he doesn’t seem satisfied when I tell him I don’t go anywhere.
He remembers the keep well enough to head there by day. The Swordmaiden awaits in the fort. I have no doubt she is similarly afflicted. We will return to that keep, and we will seek out what lies within.
If Providence cannot open the man’s eyes, I will see for him. If he cannot unstill his hand, I will strike.