Here's a journal from Bella. It takes place directly after the journal I posted above.
Session 22: Pain is a Teacher
The last thing I remember was sinking into a warm darkness and then there was a bright light. The light hurt to look at, pain coursed through my body. It cleared my addled mind. Most believe that pain is a thing to be avoided, but an assassin knows the truth. Pain is life. When I was pulled to the light, I did not resist even though it hurt me.
My eyes opened and they were filled with blood. Through a red hazed I looked upon the injured form of the final harpy. A bolt blossomed in its eye. I had made the shot so quickly that I didn’t fully realize that it was my hand that held the crossbow. Frost expanded from the wound and its head had exploded in icy shards. The immediate area was clear of enemies, but death still loomed over us. There was only one thing to do.
My arm falls listless to my side, I lay my crossbow lay upon the ground. I pick myself up, my body screaming in agony. I lift the strap over my head and my quiver falls. I drop the bag of holding, and finally strip off my chocker and my bracers.
I wipe the blood from my eyes and take a final look at my companions. We were all spent. Rathnir, the red dragon, watches from outside, and his fortress is surrounded by open plains. There was no escape, unless I could convince our final foe to retreat into his lair. Limping to the door I concentrate and become the hag, letting my armor form into her clothes. I would play the part of his minion, whose body lay dead at my feet. At the moment I cannot remember if it was my own hand that killed her. In foresight I gather some of Torfinn’s equipment from my bag, step into the light and walk towards the beast.
Rathnir’s eyes narrow as I come out of the gatehouse, immediately I slip into the role of the hag from what little I observed of her.
“Lord Rathnir, the adventurers who dared to insult you by invading your lair are dead. Though I am the only survivor, we are victorious.”
Rathnir’s eyes narrow and he leaps down flying gracefully despite his bulk. He lands in front of me, his breath smelling of carrion. With the dragon this close my fear is not an act. Any sane person would be terrified, and I was, but in order to survive I kept tight control of it. He scrutinizes me, as an owl looks upon a mouse. I involuntarily flinch when he opens his mouth to speak, his mouth filled with razor sharp teeth.
“I would have their treasure, bring it to my horde and hurry. Since you are the sole survivor perhaps you need my assistance in this task.”
I stammer out my response, “On no my master, I would not dream of having you soil your claws in such a menial task. Please allow me to take your new treasures to you. Here look, look, your patience will be rewarded”
With this I present him Torfinn’s staff. Lord Rathnir takes it in his massive claw to examine it, plucking it delicately from my shaking hands. All I can do is wait and try to remember how to breath while I am at the mercy of this beast. After what seems like an eternity he returns his ancient gaze to me. I can tell that he is looking for some kind of trick. Although my story is believable, it is unlikely. Finally with a huff he takes to the air with such force that I allow it to knock me to the ground. He flies back to the vantage point from which he watched the fight.
“Fine. But hurry with my new acquisitions.”
With that he returns to his lair and I return to my companions. I have only one thing to say to them.
“Run”
Session 22: Pain is a Teacher
The last thing I remember was sinking into a warm darkness and then there was a bright light. The light hurt to look at, pain coursed through my body. It cleared my addled mind. Most believe that pain is a thing to be avoided, but an assassin knows the truth. Pain is life. When I was pulled to the light, I did not resist even though it hurt me.
My eyes opened and they were filled with blood. Through a red hazed I looked upon the injured form of the final harpy. A bolt blossomed in its eye. I had made the shot so quickly that I didn’t fully realize that it was my hand that held the crossbow. Frost expanded from the wound and its head had exploded in icy shards. The immediate area was clear of enemies, but death still loomed over us. There was only one thing to do.
My arm falls listless to my side, I lay my crossbow lay upon the ground. I pick myself up, my body screaming in agony. I lift the strap over my head and my quiver falls. I drop the bag of holding, and finally strip off my chocker and my bracers.
I wipe the blood from my eyes and take a final look at my companions. We were all spent. Rathnir, the red dragon, watches from outside, and his fortress is surrounded by open plains. There was no escape, unless I could convince our final foe to retreat into his lair. Limping to the door I concentrate and become the hag, letting my armor form into her clothes. I would play the part of his minion, whose body lay dead at my feet. At the moment I cannot remember if it was my own hand that killed her. In foresight I gather some of Torfinn’s equipment from my bag, step into the light and walk towards the beast.
Rathnir’s eyes narrow as I come out of the gatehouse, immediately I slip into the role of the hag from what little I observed of her.
“Lord Rathnir, the adventurers who dared to insult you by invading your lair are dead. Though I am the only survivor, we are victorious.”
Rathnir’s eyes narrow and he leaps down flying gracefully despite his bulk. He lands in front of me, his breath smelling of carrion. With the dragon this close my fear is not an act. Any sane person would be terrified, and I was, but in order to survive I kept tight control of it. He scrutinizes me, as an owl looks upon a mouse. I involuntarily flinch when he opens his mouth to speak, his mouth filled with razor sharp teeth.
“I would have their treasure, bring it to my horde and hurry. Since you are the sole survivor perhaps you need my assistance in this task.”
I stammer out my response, “On no my master, I would not dream of having you soil your claws in such a menial task. Please allow me to take your new treasures to you. Here look, look, your patience will be rewarded”
With this I present him Torfinn’s staff. Lord Rathnir takes it in his massive claw to examine it, plucking it delicately from my shaking hands. All I can do is wait and try to remember how to breath while I am at the mercy of this beast. After what seems like an eternity he returns his ancient gaze to me. I can tell that he is looking for some kind of trick. Although my story is believable, it is unlikely. Finally with a huff he takes to the air with such force that I allow it to knock me to the ground. He flies back to the vantage point from which he watched the fight.
“Fine. But hurry with my new acquisitions.”
With that he returns to his lair and I return to my companions. I have only one thing to say to them.
“Run”