Fate Comes to Call

Self inflicted wounds

Fight night at the gypsy camp

Gentle reader you may think that occasionally I am being too harsh in my criticism of my companions. That the strain of my journey in this harsh and evil land is taking its toll on my well being and making me more prone to critiquing my fellow travelers unjustly. While I may be open to such an observation or discussion in the warm light of day in the comfortable confines of the amazing solar in the Royal Exploration Society, a single fact remains.

My traveling companions ARE a hazard both to themselves, others, local wildlife, small children, free standing wooden structures, and life in general.

Once again we manage to return from perilous danger at great risk to ourselves only to attempt to kill each other off in the safest place (hopefully) that we (hopefully continue to) have available to us. The child god is an unstable madman, the Paladin grows closer to her fall every second, the drunken priest is in imminent danger of running out of alcohol, while the fighter and the undertaker snooze contently like there isn’t a single care in all of the planes of existence. Meanwhile I get to continuously attempt to smooth the frayed tempers of those we annoy along the way without any sign of thanks for keeping our merry band of misfits out of even more trouble than we could have.

It’s all quite annoying to say the least.

For now we have returned to our refuge with our first foray into the castle that shall remain nameless a success. IF we can stop punching each other long enough to focus on resupply and repair we should be able to enter the foul location again soon. Its evil permeates every stone of the place. I have never before encountered a location as vile as this one. Yet we must venture in again, for Madam Eva’s prophecies demand that we do.

It is unfortunate that Madam Eva continues to be away from camp. I could use some help and guidance along the dark path that lies before us all. No matter. Her path leads down another road for now. As for this camp, the hour grows late and hopefully my companions can refrain from killing each other until tomorrow.

We shall see about that.


I always love these outside observations. I think the drunken priest nearly out of alcohol is the most frightening.

I also enjoyed the “Unstable Madman” remark, I got a chuckle out of that.

Self inflicted wounds
LycanthropianDM Garde_Manger_Guy

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