Cleric Journal: Day Seventy-Two
Originally published at J.A. Pitts. You can comment here or there.
I couldn’t call the divine. I woke the next morning bloodied and bandaged, but devoid of any connection with Kithri of the golden bread, or Semaunya (may she pay closer attention to her worshipers).
We were sixty-three feet underground, according to Bob, and in a room that slanted north to south with an average grade of four percent over six rods. He was pretty insistent I got those figures correctly noted, though I’m not sure why. He was quite indignant when I wouldn’t give over the journal so he could map out the room we were in. He said it could save our lives later, but I didn’t budge. Is everyone crazy? Made me fear for my own sanity.
Bob had been captured from a merchant’s wagon several leagues north and west of where we were currently. There’s a village there called Morden’s Gate which served as a crossroads and got a lot of traffic. He said he had relatives there who would be missing him and if we could get out of this region without being killed, we could go there for resupply and allies.
I assured him I was not leaving here without Liz.
Of course, this puzzled him, so he wanted me to tell him everything about how I’d met her. I don’t think Bob has many friends. The thought of having someone who you trusted like Liz was apparently not in his realm of experience. Bob was an odd egg. He explained how he became a warrior because as a kid the others picked on him constantly. It didn’t take me long to figure out that Bob just needed to be needed. I hugged him and thanked him for saving me. I think he cried a little, but did my best not to notice.
He showed signs of neglect, cuts and bruises from his captivity and a few bumps and abrasions from dragging me through tunnels that were collapsing.
Yep, we were trapped underground. You cannot imagine how thrilled I was.
We had no food and no water, but Bob felt like he could get us out. He knew stone work like nobody’s business. He was like a savant. (the comments earlier about the grade of the floor should’ve been a clue).
The fact I couldn’t connect with my deities was pretty disturbing. We had no healing, no light and very little hope. After six hours or so I learned that Bob could see in the dark and had neglected to share that fact with me.
It was at this point I asked him if he could lead me back to the surface and he agreed. Six hours after I’d come to. Bob needed a little prodding. I guess having no real friends led him to a lot of inner dialog and not much interaction with others.
And he’s like fifteen hands tall to my nineteen. It made quite a bit of difference. What we ended up doing was him leading with me following behind, both of my hands on his shoulders. That way, I wouldn’t fall over things.
That was the theory.
Every now and then he’d say something like “pit to your left” and keep moving. “dead drop to your right, seventeen rods deep, spikes at the bottom, instant death.” It was so very comforting.
Then I knocked myself unconscious. See, I was very tall compared to him, which I had to explain when I woke up a few hours later. My arm was also in a splint and I hurt like a Trog had been gnawing on my leg.
Nope, not a Trog. Giant rat. I hit my head, knocking myself out, fell to the right, down a steep incline, rolled down into an underground river and floated downstream for almost half a league. I have no idea why I didn’t drown, but I’m not questioning the fates. Bob took a bit to notice what I’d done, being the most observant of friends, and finally found me washed up in a room with a giant rat about to chomp on my leg.
Bob killed the rat, I got a bite taken out of my left calf. And when I came to, he had me bandaged, but I was soaked to the bone, shivering and feverish. To make matters worse, still no contact with the divine. It was like someone had set a shield on top of the world and no connection could be made. Not something I ever want to experience again, I’m telling you.
Lucky for me, when I hit my head I dropped my pack and shield. The mace was looped to the pack as well, so all of that hit the ground behind Bob as I tumbled arse over teakettle down into the inky darkness.
I hurt in ways I didn’t know I could hurt, but insisted that Bob get us to the surface. Unfortunately we were nowhere near the surface now and he figured it would take us a few days following the river upstream before we could get out.
On the plus side, Bob butchered the rat and found enough wood that had washed up on the same bank I’d ended up on to make a fire. Roasted rat is not the best tasting food I’d ever eaten, but it filled the belly.
Tomorrow I will give Bob explicit instructions on what to do as he’s leading me out at half pace due to my wound. And for the record, I have a lump on my forehead the size of a goose egg. Tender to touch and throbbing.
Bob is not my favoritist person at this juncture. Maybe tomorrow will be better.
Short of dying, I’m not sure how it could get any worse.
That was not something I was willing to tempt, however. I said my prayers and tried to dry out by the fire. I was pretty miserable.