The personal journal of William Morrison
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Death. Again.
We've just repelled another orc attack on Jiyyd, immediately followed by a goblin attack on Norwick. I suppose those were good things in a way. They forced me to come fully back into the world of the living sooner than is my habit.
I had hoped I was past dying, except for the last one that we all face. I suppose it was foolish to hope so, but although the new armor does protect me a great deal, it cannot protect me from my own choices.
We were to check on the numbers of the beasts in the Mintas forest - but while crossing the Windy Plains, some of the more whimsical among us decided they wanted to attack the orc fortress - so like fools, we followed.
Not far inside the gates, we found ourselves beset on all sides, by heavy crossbows and mages on the hills, and large orcs in front. I managed to down a mage and two of the crossbows - but they were only a fraction, and even this new armor has its limits. I took a bolt through the armpit, and with orders from General Lyte, that was enough to force me to retreat back to the gate.
Once at the gate, I healed as best I could, and re-entered the fray. I thought I heard someone go down, but it was hard to tell. Things were much as they had been before - just as confused, and we were still surrounded and scattered - but I could not find General Lyte.
…
As I sit here writing by the fire at the Norwick south gate, a chance gust of wind from the south brings the smell of death from the goblin corpses, and I am there at the orc fortress all over again...
...
Rary is engaged with a score of heavy orcs, and I am doing what bow-work I can to help him, while looking about for the General. Everything seems to be happening too fast, and in slow motion all at the same time. Then everything falls apart. Rary runs towards me yelling 'Run!' with a mass of orcs following close behind, and everyone else heads for the gate...
...everyone except General Lyte, who is still nowhere to be seen, and me.
I know I should be running too. I want to run. Instead, my body fights on its own while my eyes search the litter of bodies for the General.
Draw... release. Draw... release. Another orc chasing Rary falls, all in slow motion. Draw... and then the orcs chasing Rary are upon me and wash over me like a wave, without even slowing. I'm dead before my body hits the ground.
...
I come to my senses slowly. Impressions first, then comprehension. Bright light. A crowd. Conversations. Healing Wonders in Jiyyd. It is always harder for me being alive again than dying. An adjustment. The time between death and life is indistinct, but always seems more real than life.
People shove things at me while I am still sorting out which voices belong to which face. My belongings? I suppose so. I dress because it is expected. It feels wrong. Ah - I am not wearing armor, because ordinary clothing is the first thing I found.
The General is standing two feet away, as recently returned as I, yet already speaking animatedly.
In time, I recover somewhat, only to discover the crowd gone, save for Vroka and Finnius. I go out to the west gate fire, just to be around people again. There are too many. Too many conversations. An argument. A thief in Healing Wonders? Bards trying to play...
Suddenly I realize the person sitting next to me is Nicahh. How long has she been there? I don't know. I greet her. Was that right? I don't know that either.
Someone whispers to me a question about what is going on. I respond aloud, unthinking, mentioning that General Lyte has fallen, speaking of the thief and the argument, detached from it all. Some part of me still waking up is embarrassed for having mentioned the General falling, so soon after, and in front of so many.
Someone kisses me on the cheek. Nicahh? Then she is gone again. She returns, speaking of playing the harp...
...and then the orcs attack, and things come sharply into focus. There is no longer time to sort things out. There is only defending the town.
...
...and now here I am sitting on a bench south of Norwick. When it does not smell of death, the air smells like rain, which for once I am looking forward to.
I look back and wonder what the lesson in this death was. If I would have done anything different if I had the chance.
Probably.
Possibly.
Had I refused to go into the fortress the first time, they would likely have gone without me, and the General would still have fallen.
Had I chosen to not return to the battle after being wounded, I would likely still be alive - but I would not choose such a life... to abandon friends.
So - probably not then.
...and with that comes resolution. I still don't know what the lesson was, or even if there was one. Regardless, I am content.
Perhaps keeping a journal is not so bad after all.
