In spite of the cleric’s salves and blessed incense, my sleep was restless and troubled by bizarre nightmares. Perhaps it was an effect of the mummy’s curse, for that’s what caused the black rot. The dream visions of a writhing darkness, filled with horrible bony creatures, ended with a jolt to consciousness after a flying skeletal monster spewed a sea of bones. Dreams are Agenar’s domain, not mine.
I was finally coming round as my companions arrived this morning, thanks to a steaming cup of tea from Wilhelm. I wasn’t feeling any better, but also no worse, aside from the strange heaviness of mind that follows a night of foul dreams.
Wilhelm explained that he’d used the services of an arcanist to consult the clerics in Dranseri, who diagnosed the wound as accursed. Luckily he had the training to undo the curse, with a spell well beyond the skills of our cleric companions. He traced a ten-pointed sun with chalk and recited a celestial incantation; the black rot immediately receded. As he finished the spell, the wound closed without a mark and there was a tickling sensation as the fur grew back, all at once.
We paid the man well for his services; the cleric had unquestionably earned the price he quoted. My comrades had to subsidize the cost of treatment considerably, and all present agreed to split the fee. While wealth means little to me, I know such things are of great value to others, so I was humbled by the unhesitating speed with which they pulled out coin. Val even paid the difference between my share of the cost and what was left in my purse.
After completing the ritual, Wilhelm said that, in fact, had we delayed but a little longer, I would have certainly lost my arm, and quite possibly crumbled to ash! Val’s insistence on a prompt return to The Glade last night probably saved my life. A look of relief washed over her face as the wound vanished, as though this mess was somehow her fault, rather than the unfortunate result of my own clumsiness in combat.
Despite her tendency to strike first and ask questions later, and a penchant for drunkenness, Val is clearly a stalwart companion. And a rather handsome woman – when she laughs, as she often does after a few tankards of ale, her unusual eyes are mesmerizing. I begin to see why Wynlynn seems to dote on her.
UNOMAHA D&D 