Songs by the Hearth
Thaal’s Journal – Entry 5
Anything so idyllic is a trap, of course; the plants themselves rose up against us, attacking the caravan indiscriminately. The others and I were able to save every life. I felt glad, briefly. Without much delay after the confrontation, the circle of shadow converged on a tower in the village territory. With the winds of fortune blowing at my back, this was a free bit of information, enlightening me to the process the shadowed satyr crossing a threshold. jokes
I’ll write this down, to be just; when I first saw it, standing somehow taller, I immediately fled. I stayed hidden and listened to my party attempting to reason with him. I will not write his name here; such an inscription of perfect anathema would be a cruelty unto myself and these very pages. I cannot harm him with my power, and he recognizes it clearly, with due hatred and contempt.
After some time, I revealed myself. For some foregone reason, despite my position, I felt I was best equipped to play diplomat.
Any dignified words would cramp my hand. I laid out bare the last shard of my humanity in that tower, and pleaded for mercy. It came unexpected, I think, and, ultimately, the encounter ended favorably. The satyr made some final threats, and disappeared. The holy men all certainly heard me. I took some time alone in the woods to think. Even now, a few good words will keep me safe in their company. Though I put most of the caravan ill at ease, I have maintained a healthy abstinence from creating solid reasons to disbelieve me. That said, a mention of Eternal Winter will not go forgotten by the paladin.
He is watching me diligently. I am ready for anything he can do. He would not be so prepared.
The holy men are out helping the construction again, of course. It’ll be easiest to just ask our devilblooded benefactor, NAME ~ Prismeus, how my talents would be best put to use… but I am distracted, still, by a choice of the satyr’s words. When I had all but prostrated myself, I even begged for advice. The display granted me a good morsel though ~ I, named as a puppet, complete with a puppeteer. The last umbral bleat I heard was the instruction to kill the one with my strings.
At the risk of getting a sparkle in my eye, this might lend to the belief that such a thing is possible. If any of his same magic is in the ruins, I could turn tomorrow into a very productive day.
REMEMBER ~ If I have made the choice to survive, I must adopt a psychology geared to do so, whatever the circumstances. Each brief moment of genuine empathy or mirth lends to the strength of my human will, and cannot be invalidated.