You catch a faint hint of woodsmoke and plums as you turn the page. The pen strokes are interrupted at regular, rhythmic intervals, reminding you of that ride on a damaged cart unevenly pulled by a single horse. Rossi must have found time scribble some notes before her nap
Between the bar fight, an assassin attacking in the middle of the night and getting waylaid by bandits, I think I’ve seen more fighting over the last few hours than I have in months. Paladins are supposed to fight evil, so doing more of that must mean I’m finally doing something right. Probably.
So some background: Somehow, I’ve found myself traveling with a with a priest, a former assassin, a nobleman and a wrestler (dear lord, it’s Axel no less. How much did I drink last night?!). We apparently agreed to pool our efforts and do some work for the locals in exchange for a home. Now that I’m sober and well rested (bless you, Laraella), I can say that upon reflection I’m not entirely sure what I’m even going to do with real estate. At least it’ll be nice to have a place to hang my helm while I do Tyr’s work in this town.
On the up-side, the group I’m with is an interesting one, with an odd mix of courage, kindness and merciless justice. More importantly, I’ve met groups like this before. They attract trouble like honey draws in bears. And a Paladin’s job is to be where trouble is. Probably.