I’ve helped kill an Inquisitor. Twice. I’ve helped kill Rudainia Soldiers. I’ve helped kill street urchins. I’ve fought on the side of slavers against those who would set slaves free.
But along the way I have stopped a servant of Beshaba and experienced the glory of the Lady in my presence. She has honored us with her words and encouraged us on our quest.
I am a bastard’s bastard from a forgotten corner of Norgaard. I am the Lady’s chosen servant. I’m barely a man in human terms and hardly a boy in elf terms.
I am between two worlds, two continents and aligned with powers I can’t possibly understand.
How am I not paralyzed by fear and doubt? It is only in my zealous belief that this quest is from Tymora herself that I can go on.
There is no time for doubt only time for action. I must move this story forward and know that the time for timidity is over. I am not a boy hunting deer in the forest.
My companions can do amazing and and terrible things with their weapons. I must do amazing and terrible things with the power of the Lady so that all may recognize me as her servant.
There can be only boldness.
I’m currently playing through a campaign DM’d by the indomitable Erik Maxwell. As a writing exercise I’m giving myself 30 minutes to recap our weekly adventures.