Going South

Flamerule 16, 1373, outside of Beorunna’s Well

We walked for a while until we found a place suitable for a burial. I was awed at the various burial prayers my friends gave— even Shadow gave a mournful howl at one point during Rosorc’s impassioned prayer. I recited an ancient elven one I didn’t even realize I knew, blessing the animal’s departing soul. I do hope that it wasn’t a hunter’s prayer.

We traveled in relative comfort under a sunny, clear sky for the remainder of the day, heading ESE in the general direction of Beorunna’s Well. Areon found us a good spot to camp with a small fire, and then he and Beowulf foraged a bit while Rosorc rummaged through the packs to find the meat and other edibles (and wine— blessed by Deitricha!) we’d acquired at the Ettin’s lair. I felt a little off, but I assumed it was the protective spell Areon had placed on me the day before wearing off. I was wrong though— Areon limped to sit down at the campfire, looking quite ill and, rolling up his pant leg, we found that the dire rat bite he’d received during a skirmish yesterday was red and inflamed. Deitricha treated the symptoms, with a promise to cure the “filth fever” in the morning after she’d prayed to Tymora. I wanted him to rest after our meal, but he insisted on staying up and keeping first watch with Rosorc.

Areon gently shook me out of my meditation a few hours later, not for me to take watch, but to take cover! This horrible, reptilian creature had flapped low over our camp and Rosorc was able to see through the pitch-dark night that it was wheeling around to come back. Moments later, we were all up and could see the monstrous form coming towards us— it was at least 20’ long with a wingspan of at least twice that. Someone, I’m not sure who, yelled “Yrthak!” as the ground between us all erupted in a shower of rocks from the creature’s sonic attack. We all dove for cover in the boulder-strewn ground around our camp, except for Deitricha, who perhaps noticed that the creature was eyeless. Her stance paid off for me, as I was, apparently, the target of its attack. In the space of a few seconds, I was hiding (I thought) between three large rocks, then I was nearly killed outright by the creature as it passed over me with its talons outstretched, then completely healed by Deitricha. We managed to chase it off with a few projectiles, but it was hard to rest afterwards!

I tried to engage Deitricha in meaningful conversation during our watch, as I do want to get to know my comrades better, but she seems to think my questions are too “personal.” The rest of the night passed without further incident.

Deitricha rid Areon of the filth fever before we broke camp at sunrise. We headed out under increasingly cloudy skies; eventually a hard, cold rain began to fall— we quickly took shelter in a shallow cave. Thankfully it was an abandoned cave, because the weather was so bad that we were stranded there for three nights. I chose to ask Deitricha the “personal” questions in the Elven tongue on our shifts, hoping that would somehow she’d be more inclined to answer. Either she doesn’t understand Elven very well, or she understands it too well and was making some rather alarming suggestions. I’ll leave it at that for now.

The fourth morning of our trek from the Ettin’s cave dawned sunny and we were quick to get headed toward Beorunna’s Well again. Beowulf transformed into a bird to get an aerial view of what was ahead, hoping to give Areon a break from scouting, but of course Areon stayed about 100’ in front of the rest of us anyway. They saw three ogres joining an orc encampment about a quarter mile from where we were traveling. Areon told me about this quietly and in Sylvan. Perhaps that was the language he and the druid were using while scouting ahead— we certainly didn’t have to worry about a certain halfling overhearing this time.

After another uneventful night we walked until we reached the plains— by our guess Beorunna’s Well was still a three-day hike. In fact, we must have been doing quite well with the method used for scouting ahead, as we only encountered a single ogre the entire trek. Beowulf and Areon didn’t even alert us that they were in combat— it was the ogre’s javelin that had sailed well past them and landed in the path in front of Rosorc, Deitricha and I that clued us in. I got there in time to get one shot off before the ogre was dispatched. We got a nice purse of gold for our troubles.

Another two clear (both of encounters and rain clouds) days brought us to where we can see the little town of Beorunna’s Well. Barring any incidents, we should make it to the town by nightfall.