Hârn: Genisis – Entry 18


30th of Agrazhar in the year 720 TR

We’ve been traveling for a few days to Goshen, the first stopping point on the way to Moab. The little used road skirts us along the edge of the Dark Forest, though having survived its perils once before I imagine we will have no further problems. The Cleric of Siem insisted on stopping early today to prepare his silly rituals to a god no longer concerned with this world, let alone his welfare. The others seemed to welcome the stop, though I would rather we push on. Their weakness shows in their almost daily shortcomings, but I shall abide them for now.

On the first day, the Shek-Pvar Marcus sat in the back of our cart with me and Falcon, ostensibly to practice his magic. The Cleric of Siem seems quite uncomfortable around me, so I was amusing myself with tormenting him. I had just grown bored when a sharp crack and a flash of light blinded us. When the glare cleared, much to our surprise, we found a second copy of Marcus sitting in the back of the cart with us.

Echo concluded demonic magic was afoot and leaped upon one, ordering me to attack the other. Clearly he was too busy with his imagination to notice when I brushed off his instruction. He found the copy of Marcus was a mirage, a demon spirit he claimed, though more likely some form of illusion unintentionally cast by the fool mage.

The Cleric drew his sword and channeled the power of his Larani through his weapon before striking out at the image. Beyond them, I could see Talon chanting and making small gestures. The image dissolved before Echo’s first blow, cementing his belief that the demon spirit had been banished by the power of his god. I could see even Talon shake his head as he turned away.

When we stopped early today, Talon and Marcus retired to the nearby wooded hills in search of precious metals while Falcon made his preparations. It was late in the afternoon when we heard a rumble and sudden screaming. I admit, I would miss Talon, though the untimely end of Marcus wouldn’t be so bad.

When we arrived on the scene, we found the two mages in the bottom of a freshly opened crevasse. Merrick fell in trying to rescue them, which would have been an amusing sight watching from the edge had I not been kicked into the hole by Echo after refusing Falcon’s instructions to help them. Clearly the Cleric thinks I am some sort of slave to serve them. He does not recognize the truth. I am a prisoner. A very dangerous one at that. But I am only a prisoner for a time. My freedom will come soon enough.

After we hauled the fools out of the hole, it closes up nearly as quickly and cleanly as it began. No doubt some other failed incantation on their part. We returned to our camp to rest, pray and lick our wounds as individually required. The Cleric of Siem made a show of trying to involve us in his rituals, though he received nothing more than polite interest from Marcus.

Strangely, as the moonless night set and the rest were asleep, Merrick excused himself into the woods. I could just make out his outline, kneeling in the darkness outside our fire light, apparently praying for awhile before returning. Strange that a pious man would not have joined the others in their supplication to their weak gods earlier in the night. A strange mystery indeed.


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