At long last there has come another moment of passivity.
The cult’s assault has been ended, and now there is time to consider events. As I make my notes for this evening, I am making questions of a particularly buffoonish member of the attacking force. He is forthcoming enough, though his credibility is certainly in question.
Coming to this current point, my companions and I were able to slip out of the keep, dispatch several more of the cultists and their kobold patsies. They are inelegant in their tactics, easily predictable and avoidable. Being connected to dragons, one might expect a touch more cunning from these lizardfolk. Disgraceful how distance dulls and dilutes deliberations.
There was a small contingent, perhaps somewhat elevated in the hierarchy, which had use of a tamed drake. The fellows who follow me acquitted themselves admirably and we were then able to secure the safety of Lady Tristavyrr’s acquiantance – as well as several more of the townsfolk too foolish to flee.
Upon returning to the keep with our charges, the elfling – Terran – seemed to again become suicidally chivalrous in charging of into a fray for which he was quite ill prepared. There was a dragonborn, clearly the true leader of this foray – blue, incidentally, as the dragon strafing the keep – who demanded single combat. And so, of course, as is, apparently, the rule of engagement in a village of idiots, the one person least equipped to the task took it upon himself. Subtly, I assisted – until the task at hand became a matter of preservation and loss of knowledge; preservation being paramount to my patron, I intervened directly and saved the young man’s life. The remainder of his forces fled upon his expiration.
And now my allies have taken their evening’s rest. The captive has been incredibly unhelpful, and quite the vociferous complainer. Mistress forfend the squeamishness of the incompetent. We now come to the point where we must deal with this situation of Mario’s missing monk…