Below the City, Once Again

The invite to the banquet at the Castle was a wonderful gift that the dragon and the Grand Duelist had graced us with but we still had unfinished business before we could even think of heading to such a celebration. Our travels to the Starlit Tower were quickly stopped by not only the mafia but a cultist as well. The mafia wanted the metal of the Warforged, and apparently some revenge on our rogue, but that was nothing compared to the cultist that attempted to injure us and then ran.
 
We chased the cultist to a building on the edge of the city. While the building seemed small, our course took us under the city once again, into a maze of hallways and chambers that served the purpose of these robed people. We learned little of the cult while in their lair other than they worshipped Argoth, an entity of death that neither I nor the cleric cared for. Once again we took artifacts from these people, this time in the form of a scepter that the Warforged took a particular liking to.
 
Then it was off again, attempting to learn something about these people that seemed to have it out for the lot of us. We trapped someone who seemed to be a higher-up of the cult, but finesse in interrogation was not the forte of anyone in the group, especially the rogue and ranger. My levelheadedness seemed to be the only thing that could get the man to talk, but the information we received helped us very little. Once the man was dispatched, we continued on again, but not before long, we were halted.
 
The room that was protected by a ritual circle was one that very nearly drove a wall between the rogue and I. A moral dilemma rest inside, particularly in the body of a child. Undead called the room home, resting in the cell with the child. I was more than prepared to do what was necessary if the child was undead, but Craea...there would have been complications with my plan since she failed to heed my warning and followed close to my side.
 
The child was not the source I felt in the room, and for that, I felt great relief, but I believe Craea was quite upset with me for the sheer thought of harming a child. I understand a little of her background but emotion cannot play a role in some instances. Discipline is necessary, and my travels with Squall and Craea have shown that discipline may be something the both of them lack. That was the one thing that Father was very particular about.
 
Discipline is something the ranger and the warlock also lack. The ranger is easily triggered by words, moved to anger quicker than a barbarian. The warlock is more awkward, but I see he also leans towards violence, especially if undead can be the eventual outcome. I am still unsure about my newest traveling companions, but only time will tell.
 
In instances like these, the lessons Father and Taeral beat into my head will be more and more important. I will not let the others come to harm if I can help it. I know better than to let them roam off on their own when my lance and armor could be a wall between them and possible death. I only hope that these lessons and my strength will hold during the coming challenges.