Drakuun - The Death of Elodin

4e, dnd, drakuun

Having set off up the river, we soon came upon the Uru League. Apparently, the League is a collection of villages and towns surrounding a rather sizable lake, the mouth to which is guarded by several barges. Being again overly cautious, the group decided to disembark and travel on foot instead of taking the boat onto the lake itself.

As we traveled on foot, we came across several small villages. One in particular – Villageistan – set me to wondering what exactly was going on. As the brawler of the group went to investigate the village, I attempted to meditate. Usually, these meditations are peaceful, but this one was certainly not.

It must have been a result of the incomplete bond I have with Ioun: I got a very strong feeling or urge (it is hard to describe what exactly), that heading further north was not what Ioun desired. It felt like Ioun was trying to impress upon me that there was some knowledge there that should not be touched. This went against everything I had been taught and had previously experienced (in the bonding ritual) about Ioun, however. I think this is where things started to turn for me.

Carrying the strange doubt in the back of my mind, I nevertheless continued on with the group. I think this was less due to loyalty, as it might sound, and more due to my nature. In the bonding ritual with Ioun, my personality had changed substantially. Instead of revenge, I became obsessed with finding knowledge about things (and about Whiskeystone, in particular, at this point). It is strange, but it appears that even Ioun’s “commands” can’t override that obsession.

Continuing north, we set up camp overnight in a small copse of trees. This is the second point where things began to turn. In the night, we were ambushed by several beasts. One was particularly nasty – it appeared to become insubstantial at times, causing attacks to miss. The group fought valiantly. Although we were badly wounded, having killed all but the particularly nasty beast, the warlock Elodin and I decided to pursue it as it ran. Catching up to it, we also ran into its owner, who trained a bow on Elodin, threatening to shoot unless we let the beast go. In what appeared to be a bit of a rage at being ambushed, Elodin elected to take his chances, nearly killing the beast. The ranger, whose name we later learned to be Reniss, made good on his threat and let loose an arrow that pierced Elodin through the chest.

As this happened, and I saw Elodin mortally wounded, the rage that my bond with Ioun had suppressed once again reared its ugly head. I slew the beast and turned to the archer.

The wizard Quintus, however, beat me to him. In a rage the likes of which I have never seen since my home was destroyed, Quintus began torturing the archer, trying to get information about anything and everything it seemed. As the archer lay bleeding and exhausted, the brawler and Quintus carried him back to his house, chained him inside, and set the house ablaze.

I sat there watching the fire. I should have been far more calm, but Ioun’s influence had wavered. My rage had returned. I wasn’t sorry about it. Things had changed.