Text drawn from the journal of Willow, Mistwalker of the Virlych:
Just as we were about to return to Harrowstone, all hell broke loose in the church. (This account will no doubt verify the hazy results of my divinations on the current state of Ravengro and Harrowstone. Judging by my scrying, “hell” did indeed break loose.) First, the father was possessed and broke his bonds, sending Justinius out of the room. At least, I figure it had to be the father, as the acolyte was sent out of his room with some good force, and he wasn’t looking too good prior. Then, to make matters worse, the bells started to ring and the undead started trying to break their way into the church. As I was going to lead the civilians to the basement and to the safety of the wards, Justinius made a recovery and then we got more hell as a giant skeleton burst in, right after a ghostly dwarf jumped in and onto the alter. Before my eyes, an acolyte came in and saw the dwarf, charging him for being on the alter, only to realize too late that solid weapons don’t hurt ghosts. (I ponder what the Pharasmin clergy are teaching their acolytes about the physiology, or lack thereof, of the departed. Recently departed souls are the church’s area of expertise after all. Perhaps this acolyte was simply dull-witted.)
Ideas started to formulate in my mind on possible fixes, but I had a job to do with making sure that the others were safe; I couldn’t abandon my task for fear of the others getting hurt. My parents abandoned me as a child, I wasn’t going to abandon the helpless for combat. (…how sad.)Then again…something about a green ghost going for the mage boiled my blood. I sent one of my stones at it once I got down there, sadly, I hit the mage in the process…And…successfully pissed off the green monstrosity. I’ll have to make my next two stones count to keep any more from being hurt and turned against us. (Apparently this Willow was so caught up in her memory of events that she slipped into a minor delusion, thinking that she was back in that hectic situation. Not uncommon in those of lesser faculties.)
I hit him hard with my second stone, which caused the coward to retreat and pick on someone that had their back turned. I quickly followed him as I needed to hit him before he could do anymore harm. My third stone found its way home by hitting him in the back of the neck and causing him to flip and be disoriented for a whole of two seconds, before the dwarf ran up and grabbed two of the weapons from the pack I was wearing and destroyed my bag. Though, the dwarf seemed to have issues wielding the weapons he took. I figured that out when he turned on me with a crazed look in his eye. Though, when he started screaming about me obeying him and that he was going to kill my lover in front of me, I had to raise a brow. Whatever the hell happened with him, he definitely lost it if he thought I was going to listen to some short man. Though, the benefit of that was that he turned away from me and to the lopper once again. Though things turned more dangerous as the splatter man went back downstairs. I found myself facing a conflict. I could either abandon my current mission of keeping the civilians safe and help my comrades, or continue helping the civilians. (Such disjointed narrative! This poor girl was really at her wits end, apparently.)
Reluctantly I decided that I need to help with the lopper. I was still concerned for the civilians, but at the same time my companions were in trouble. I found some power within me to strike at the enemy with holy power, which sadly pissed him off. With two of my companions down, I had to make a choice that wasn’t easy for me to make. (A choice like, perhaps, leaving innocent civilians…who one was appointed to guard…to their own fates. Sadly, there are very few easy choices in this world.)
I took some serious damage, and as much as I wish I didn’t have to, I was forced to retreat, knowing well that had I trained harder and been stronger, I may have been able to be of more use to my allies. But then…perhaps I should have continued after the splatter man, rather than turning to help with the lopper.
Our mission had failed; Loromere sent us on a mission of suicide. It’s strange, a part of me feels as if perhaps the thought of him being a necromancer was true…but then…I don’t see how I should be so concerned or show much care…I was unwelcome in that town the first day I arrived anyway. People just don’t want to know those that they deem strange, different, or come off as one to be feared. I figured I’d return to my life in the mountains; it’s far easier to live where things are familiar both to fight and to everyday life. (In the wake of a chaotic, mentally-straining episode, such as this one, it is common to feel anger and denial at one’s actions, before moving to justify one’s decisions. Here, Willow shows us a case study. She will no doubt bury her guilty conscious under layers of denial and hatred towards those deceased villagers who supposedly shunned her. Perhaps it was less their insular nature, and more her reluctance to be accepted? No matter. It is probably for the best that someone of this fragile a mental state be self-exiled to the darkest Vyrlich ranges. There, she can revel in her own delusions before being claimed by the county’s more devious inhabitants. Mental note: My next unwitting spy must be of a more mentally stable nature if further reliable accounts are to be received.)