an excerpt from the writings of Parker Hale
“…and in a typical display of impertinent impatience, Gahn demanded to stop in the middle of a running battle to don a shiny, golden set of plate stripped from a corpse, somewhere far below the surface of our holdings. Fortunately, my hasty reconnaissance of the last rooms was of little consequence; the dead were dealt with quickly.
I will not bog this entry down with the minute details of the second half of our ordeal; it is recorded elsewhere. Suffice to say that those damned imprisoned dragon riders, foul undead, cultists, and serpentine beasts all would have spelled doom to lesser individuals, but I serve with exceptional characters. Had I been told two years ago that I would value the opinions of a mismatched set of half-elven killers and duo of dragon-worshiping orcish brothers, I’d have demanded satisfaction on the spot.
Today, I would stand in front of any and say it aloud. With resignation to be sure, but actions matter more than words, I feel. At any rate, the children are safe and I am convinced that Wilford might be something of a liar, given his refusal to inform the others that I was not the one who caused those statues to animate and attack us. His silence is infuriating.
We’re off to Roi; I am long overdue for an audience with Dibrious, the brothers want to spend money in a gaudy fashion no doubt (garish parties, extraplanar whores…I find these to be low entertainments.), and there’s the matter of this dancing throne that we must keep current on. My stomach lurches at the though of civil war…no doubt multiple factions will seek the support of the Church for legitimacy, and by extension the Inquisition.
I am a tool of law, a punisher of the wicked, a righteous enforcer of (-this part is illegible, having been crossed out and re-written a dozen times-) , and devoted to the welfare of the majority. The possibility of unchecked banditry, war, and turmoil are on the doorstep…and I am bound by the natural order of things to stop them dead.
With these major concerns voiced, my thoughts turn to the fortunes of my family….I wonder if there will be any letters for me in the city. Gods know I’ve sent enough parcels off to them. I’m curious to see if young Anson is getting on well at the monastary, and the state of things in the hamlet.