Ojtejk La’Dhroo ab Jujnis, 2997
I started my morning in the most peculiar of manners. As I finished writing, my mind worked at how I was going to manage. How was I going to be an effective part of the party? Kimaris mentioned that I didn’t need to kill to prove myself. The fact I had saved his life with my magics was more than enough. But as much as I’m happy to heal where I can and give courage, I still feel like I ought to be able to contribute more to the fight. I ought to be able to protect everyone from the monsters that would dare harm or make us afraid.
Then Saoer passed by. She was still about patrolling her woods and whatever else she enjoyed doing. Upon seeing her, I had a bit of inspiration. What if I prepped an animal for cooking? Surely the wolf girl could bring me an animal or two, to which I could skin and roast it. It was a desperate maneuver to prove my capabilities to the group. To demonstrate that I could endure blood and gore and they needn’t worry about my frailty.
I called Saoer over, her purple eyes softly glowing in the moonlight. I ran my hand along her head and neck, her soft fur pleasant to touch. I asked if she wouldn’t mind finding some small game for me. The wolf wagged her tale and nodded her head. With a final petting of her neck, I mention that I’d like to start at the break of dawn. Saoer quickly took off after giving me a sniff and a lick on the cheek.
When I woke, the sky was already illuminated with warm colors that silhouetted the wolf girl’s head. She held in her mouth two rabbits. As I made eye contact with her, she dropped the animals next to me and proceeded to wag her tail, pleased by her work. I stretched and got up, grabbing the rabbits and placing them near the fire pit.
Once I had dressed the fire, I got to business with what I had planned. With my knife in hand, I picked the first rabbit up and proceeded to look at it wondering where to start. My head worked as I wondered whether to cut the head off first or the skin. Ultimately I opted for the head because the eyes were cold and empty and it just felt wrong to tear into the creature with it’s dead eyes watching me.
All the while, Saoer watched on with great curiosity. I felt like a fool, but she was kind. As I hacked at the head, the cooled blood staining my hands, the wolf girl reverted to her half Elven self. “I. Show. You?” she offered. I wiped my brow and nodded my consent. She then fished a dagger out from her loin cloth and with precision and finesse, she buried the blade into the sternum of the other rabbit. Her other hand held the creature up as she pulled the dagger down toward the pelvis. I felt faint as she cleaned the cavity of all the organs.
Saoer then licked her fingers before making a few cuts along the skin. In one fell swoop, the half Elf pulled the skin off in one clean piece. My mouth was slack and I felt sick. Becoming a vegetarian is still something I’m considering.
I did push through my repulsion and mimicked the best I could what Saoer showed me. I kept reminding myself that the rabbit was already dead and it was necessary for nourishing the body. When I finished, my rabbit wasn’t nearly as clean and neat as the wolf girl’s. Still, I placed them on their own spikes and positioned them over the fire.
Saoer cleaned up the scraps and soon was on her way. As for us, our stomachs are full and we have some to spare for later.
✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻
We’ve made it to the start of the swamp. It is here that we fought against demons and a minotaur. It is here I died. My hands still write, but... I feel empty. Numb? My spells aided better than I had thought, but weren’t enough to keep me from falling.
Zaren and Bordel together brought me back. I had been blasted with fire twice and first woke up to the Wizard hovering over me with an empty bottle. My blistered skin exclaimed their agony to which hands enclosed about mine and I heard Bordel say a prayer. I do not know the language he spoke, but the words laced my veins with warmth that soothed the burns to the point I barely noticed them. The one thing I did catch in the words the Cleric spoke was this; Haylen Arrakhan. It is my name in his magic’s language.
Soon our attention was back to the fight at hand. Only the minotaur remained, I putting my attention toward the two men who saved me. I placed my hands upon Zaren’s head and for a moment searched for the word I would describe him as. “Ilu,” I began and sent my energies through him. As I finished the prayer, the minotaur had charged Bordel, goring him under his right shoulder.
As Daevri and Kimaris pulled the beast off of the Cleric, I positioned myself with my hands upon Bordel’s head and channeled the same energies I had used on the Wizard.
With renewed vigor, the Cleric returned to the fight and slammed the beast into the ground. The spell sunk the minotaur up to his chest, but the creature, undeterred by us, laughed. He then disappeared once more.
Kimaris and Bordel searched the area some while I continued to heal Daevri and Zaren. As I finished, I took a moment to thank the Wizard for his aid. I felt mildly embarrassed because I didn’t want the others to worry about me. Still, the gratitude overwhelmed me and I hugged my comrade. I live because of him.
Once Bordel finished examining about the place for signs of the minotaur, I took the opportunity to express my gratitude for him too. Once more I found myself hugging him. There was joy that he healed me and sorrow I hadn’t done better. With doubt and uncertainty, I will endeavor to improve.
I asked the Cleric about the language he used for the prayer. He couldn’t say exactly what it was called, but said, “I call it the language of dreams because that is where I heard it first.” It was rather poetic, though I can’t imagine what it’d be like to try and say a spell without knowing the words ahead of time.
All went to bed early, I taking the first watch as usual. It’s terrifying sitting in the near silence. I would play music, but it has lost it’s appeal. I just don’t feel worthy of comfort. Something else that scares me is the Lyro Blade seems to be singing more. It’s as though the weapon is calling upon me to wield it. I hope I can make it to the monastery without succumbing to the blade.
Maybe it would have been right of me to have attacked those creatures, yet that very thought shames me as I realize that I’m considering violence as a viable option. In a way, I recognize that it is. Yet this body... it is so sickened by the notion.
I do have to wonder if this day was in similitude of the rabbits I skinned and roasted this morning. Of course that’s stupid of me to think, yet... what if? I suppose whatever I end up doing, whether I take up my sword or channel more aggressive spells, I must expect the same in return to my actions.
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