Discord
Changelog
The method upon which Jorah hit the bed of their rented room was more akin to a crash than a typical fall, and the healing pains on his body protested at their treatment. He ignored them in favor of giving his muscles a good rest for several minutes, before grabbing his quill from his pack to laboriously write. The symbols that stained the page from the tip of the feather were more like scribbles than letters, but only to those who did not know shorthand.
How to put what just happened into words? Nonsense, of course. But the kind of nonsense that tended to pop up when deities were involved, or rather his companion in particular. He allowed her to travel with him for now, but it seemed that she had further uses aside from being an extra set of eyes.
That damned beggar was certainly trying to get them both killed, Jorah was half-convinced. Why else send them on this mad quest that had them racing on foot in the countryside, having to avoid bandits and marauders and bugbears and whatever other nasty thing prowled about? Not that he was unskilled in avoiding such trouble by any means; with the life he lived one often had to skulk about and skirt trouble. In fact he had skillfully maneuvered their route past what felt like a dozen bands lurking over the open High Road, their own bodies crouched and moving in the grass, darting about groves, running when caught and ignoring the pains of blows and arrows fired at them, until they came to a spot impassable.
A road sloped down, flanked by steep drops and ridges, and bandits awaiting at the bottom. And when they charged and rode them down, Jorah knew they had been caught.
Until that vile…thing showed up. A badger, infected and mad as any he had ever seen, mouth frothing, spittle staining its fur. And of course his companion, mad as the animal itself, conversed with it, praised it, praised Talona…he shivered a little at the thought.
Wild as it was, the creature did help, tearing at bandits with maddened fury, unable to die no matter how many weapons tore at its flesh, until it did drop dead right at the outskirts of Bezantur after it had guided them there. As if planned.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Gods and goddesses…he tried to stay out of such trouble as best as he could, it seemed all too easy to paint a target on his back this way, and any worship he had or performed was tenuous at best. Still, he did suppose he was in debt to one, in a way.
An uncomfortable thought.
How to put what just happened into words? Nonsense, of course. But the kind of nonsense that tended to pop up when deities were involved, or rather his companion in particular. He allowed her to travel with him for now, but it seemed that she had further uses aside from being an extra set of eyes.
That damned beggar was certainly trying to get them both killed, Jorah was half-convinced. Why else send them on this mad quest that had them racing on foot in the countryside, having to avoid bandits and marauders and bugbears and whatever other nasty thing prowled about? Not that he was unskilled in avoiding such trouble by any means; with the life he lived one often had to skulk about and skirt trouble. In fact he had skillfully maneuvered their route past what felt like a dozen bands lurking over the open High Road, their own bodies crouched and moving in the grass, darting about groves, running when caught and ignoring the pains of blows and arrows fired at them, until they came to a spot impassable.
A road sloped down, flanked by steep drops and ridges, and bandits awaiting at the bottom. And when they charged and rode them down, Jorah knew they had been caught.
Until that vile…thing showed up. A badger, infected and mad as any he had ever seen, mouth frothing, spittle staining its fur. And of course his companion, mad as the animal itself, conversed with it, praised it, praised Talona…he shivered a little at the thought.
Wild as it was, the creature did help, tearing at bandits with maddened fury, unable to die no matter how many weapons tore at its flesh, until it did drop dead right at the outskirts of Bezantur after it had guided them there. As if planned.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Gods and goddesses…he tried to stay out of such trouble as best as he could, it seemed all too easy to paint a target on his back this way, and any worship he had or performed was tenuous at best. Still, he did suppose he was in debt to one, in a way.
An uncomfortable thought.