The coin is there again. As I turn the coin over all of reality chages.

Tails, I’m wearing a mail shirt holding a flail that ended not with a sphere but with a cube. Dice markings pounded into the dark steel. The proper weapon for a warrior of Tymora.

When the heads side it up, I’m in my novice robes and the smell and sounds of a feast filter through the door.

Heads feels like the end, and tails feels like I can continue to fight. I have chosen to fight many, many times.

At first facing one dark cleric, unable to beseech help from Tymora I thought myself cast into the doom. Swinging this unfamiliar weapon clumsily and tripping over my mail I was easy work for the cleric. The first dozen times.

Then things became better, I was able to hold my own. Still returning to my cell after each death, but knowing that I was being tested. Forged anew as a true warrior of Tymora.

Once I defeated the one cleric, the second appeared. Suddenly I knew they were undead and Tymora heard me again and I was able to harness her light to make them flee from me, but not always. Dozens more battles, dozens of deaths. Maybe hundreds.

Then luck. I called on Tymora and one burst into flames while the other tried to flee. I was finally able to move and swing the flail with ease. I backed the dark cleric into a corner and swung again and again until he fell.

Then I faced him. Lord Rudain. That was hundreds of battles ago. I’ve grown stronger, though less nimble. At first I could barely dent his armor, but with time, I’ve drawn blood.

I’ve still never bested him, and each time his mace crushes my skull I end up right back here, ready to flip the coin.

Sometimes I use my rage to flip right away, sometimes I pray and contemplate. This time has been the longest. I have read through my prayer book at least a dozen times.

I have used this time to train to make myself a mighty warrior for her cause. If she calls be back to earth I will stamp out the darkness. I will pound any follower of Beshaba until they are dust.

Or perhaps my journey is through. Perhaps I can finally rest and meet my family, all my family. I toss the coin into the air once more and smile as it spins high, content in my choice.

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.

This was a tough one, first time a character I created dies. I had a good bit more to explore with Bryce, but this helps to end his story.