Break 1 - Taran Ullivarn

Boccob must be crazy!

It's amazing, really. I thought this part of my life was gone. Joining the forces of the legendary Warmagus of Gaeor was supposed to be my legacy; my stepping stone out of Meeran's Dell and to a world of adventure and insight. Calling lightning to smite airborne Blacks! Matching the mightiest of Reds, flame for flame, so to speak...

Instead I'm springing Good 'Ol Ezra from the Dell's jailhouse in the middle of the night, reciting mostly fabricated mumbo-jumbo doctrines that no one, outside of the War Camps of Gaeor, would ever care to remember. It's awe-inspiring how preaching something like "But in Article Six, Section Eight; it clearly states..." has such magical powers of bewilderment.

And then that fight with the elf and his hissing cronies ending in nothing but some fallen bodies and Ezra's house in flames. Almost gave me some Dragon-fear flashbacks, but a true soldier stands tall against all adversity and a couple of barrels of oil hardly compares to a Dragon's breath and those terrible, terrible eyes.

Doesn't alleviate the guilt of not seeing that arrow coming though. It landed in Ezra's gut right next to me! If only I'd had a proper defense posted! Protect the leader! I just always kind of thought that Ezra could handle himself. It seems too many of his stories were just that.

The gods giveth, and the gods - yadda yadda yah...

And really, Boccob does seem to have a sick sense of irony. He knows how much I despise the paper-pushing religious profanity that is "The Clerical Way", and yet He sees fit to reunite me with Rhys who's become a damned Cleric of Pelor! For Magic's Sake! He calls me brutal for helping torture the lizardman, but wasn't he the one who turned the metal in that damned elf's eyes damn-near to magma? Stupid Holier-Than-Thous with their "Do as I say, and not as I do" mentality. But I'll let it pass like the sick rush of a good Fire Orb leaving your body and just turn the grimace into a grin and nod the head as applicable. A man doesn't grow up as a God-chosen favorite in a school of combat-mages and not learn to have a thick skin and a favorable tongue. And to be honest, Pelor does seem to shine rather brightly off of him, though that may just be his pretty shield.

And the others:

Jeth, who I always thought would end up with an arrow in his own William Tell-shaped head, is a surprisingly good shot. A shaft right through the eye at damn near forty-five paces is nothing to scoff at. Even the best Dragon-Archers of Gold Keep would have a hard time managing that without a good True Strike or Accuracy spell to aid them. Especially when it seemed like he wasn't even really concentrating on it. Unfortunately, it looks like he contracted his daddy's ego along with his aim. I would have griped about keeping SOME semblance of formation, but he was SO sure that following the lizardman for a couple of days would turn up a lead. Maybe he's right, but I've already got five gold in the pot that says he doesn't.

And Anteel - his heart seems to harbor something darker than it did in our youth, I fear. He smiles the good smile and shows all the right amount of teeth, but his eyes give him away. Reminds me of the Maliyan Sulv Bugs that Archwarmagus Robalt made us study back in the Low Mountains just outside Wyv's boundaries. They play dead and let the smaller flies slowly devour their outer membrane, and then they strike - leaving nothing alive. Maybe it just takes a faker to know one. Maybe I've just seen too many betrayals. Either way, I will continue to subtly check any food or drink he offers for poisons or magics. I was taught better than that.

But alas, enough off-time to lament. Back to that Magic-damned Book, trying to find any clues that might help Rhys save Ezra. It would figure that Boccob's blessing, damn Him, once again turns out to be just what I need but never quite enough to be easy. Even with His eyes, the words seem to flow and pulse to some some unknown beat, and I just can't comprehend them properly. It doesn't help that Rhys's chanting and frustration keep causing me to lose my focus. Sometimes, the battle-axe at my hip twitches to shut him up, but I think I'm just worn at the hinges from the concentration. I was never really fond of book study. The only even slightly relevant thing that I've found thus far is a diagram of a key-shaped object that resembles something similar found on the lizardman's cloak. Maybe it's a coincidence. I'll just have to keep looking.

I wish this blasted book didn't read like a Terrandin Soundbox Manual.