Out of the Catacombs

The Old Catacombs were full of secrets and a chill that you could feel deep within your bones, even through the fur lining of my armor. It was almost unsettling, but the whole place had an air of the undead, something that made me feel right at home as a paladin. Shadows were the cause of the unnecessary deaths above the catacombs, but they were far from all we would find in the depths of the twisting chambers.
 
Deep within the chambers of the long-lived Night Guard, we found undead creatures and puzzles far beyond what the mission may have originally expected. The companions with me were helpful in dealing with these things, but I have begun to see new sides of the traveling companions I have chosen to keep. The rogue, the one marred by brands of blue fire, seems to be a magnet for trouble, and for coin. She can sniff out the scent of a precious metal with a precision I have never seen, but the uncanny ability she has to find various instances of trouble is almost comical. The cleric of the dragon king with the shattered hands often buries her head in her maps, things that seem like nothing more than the scratchings of a wild bird. Even so, with her scattered scratching, she has led us through the catacombs and home. Her focus is narrowed on the maps and she either misses or ignores the cheerful, somewhat obscene banter that Craea directs towards me.
 
In many ways, these two remind me much of Vamir and Corym, those closest to me in age. It has made me slip into the open ways of my brothers, a way of speech that is much more liberating when I’m not constantly nervous or afraid to speak up. It is an interesting thought that these two who are so far removed from my own homeland are so similar to those that I left behind in Yllvalion.
 
The catacombs had more waiting for us than the discoveries about ourselves. One particularly ornate burial chamber held a man with a mask of a bony beak. The man could only be described as a cultist. I do think that if the Night Guard or the Guild had any idea what waited below, they would not have sent fledgling adventurers, but that thought is far too little and too late. The cultist was drawing what the cleric told us was a summoning circle, but even I knew the etchings on the floor were wrong compared to what should have been. With the stealth of the rogue, the magic of the cleric, and my lance, we easily dispatched those undead the cultist had summoned to hinder us so that he may continue his etchings. The circle was destroyed by a well-placed spell, but the cultist ran from us but was no match in stealth and cunning for our rogue.
 
I fear that our adventure may have consequences as the curiosity of both the cleric and rogue led to us removing items from both the tomb and the cultist, but it is something I must put behind me if I wish to continue moving forward her. We plan a day to shop and replenish, hopefully moving toward visiting the Starlit Tower. The tower is the whole reason that I came to Stronghold, but it has been something that I have almost been ignoring. I want to see the knowledge that is far beyond what can be found in Yllvalion, but the life of adventuring that the other two have lived is calling me.
 
Vaalyun and Vamir spoke of such adventures when they had their time away from the outposts. They were not designated a path by our Father as I was. I am apprehensive about straying away from Father’s orders, but maybe, just maybe, the knowledge I would gain traveling the world would outweigh the gain from the human academy. Maybe while I was discovering so much about my companions, I found the voice that my brothers all found during their travels.