The Wood Sower’s Toll

The second skirmish with my new companions. We handled ourselves well; they perhaps better than I. They seem a less tactical sort, but my mother always said there comes a point where tactics cease to matter and one must simply let the steel fly. They seem well-suited for that.

I am a bit concerned by their mercenary streak, though I suppose it is common enough. I only hope they are not the type to sell others out for the hollow promise of safety and coin. I have seen where that road leads.

Lydi is an interesting fellow. To call him a “creature” would be an insult; he has shown himself far too brave for such a label. He did not hesitate when I suggested he swim as a means of flanking the beast. He was easily the one in the most danger, and as fate would have it, the creature nearly ambushed him anyway—it was nowhere near where we anticipated.

Now, Lydi has contracted some foul sickness; his skin grows patchy with bark. I suspect we have the means to cure it with the cockatrice bezoar we collected, but the weight of it remains. Had I not suggested those tactics, he might be whole. I know I cannot second-guess every command, yet the guilt lingers. I must do better next time.

Hopefully, with aid, he will be cured. Then we can investigate what is tainting the water. It will be near dark by the time we reach town. Assuming we rest, I shall use my alchemy tools tonight to see if I can determine the nature of this blight. I only hope I can impress the urgency of this task upon my compatriots. I have no real funds to pay them beyond our share from the cockatrice. Perhaps it is my own avarice speaking, but having yielded my reward for this quest to our new member, Cassie, I find myself wishing to hold onto what little coin I have left.

Cassie did not impress in the fight, but she did not seem well-suited to the environment. I shall reserve judgment for now. One never knows; sometimes money spent without obvious gain returns to you in the most oblique ways.