Moving On

It has been awhile since the war ended. Dispaters promise of experience is holding for now, but it has been a while since blood has been drawn. My wanderings have taken me to a bridge of land between two large bodies of water. A town at the midpoint seems to be a hub of activity. I shall find lodging and maybe someone to challenge my skills.
 
I see a notice from someone named Maltrixshitorsomething. He wishes assistance with a Cultist Hideout. I decided to answer the request. Upon arrival, I find 2 others. A bard and a Paper Hero of Good. This Mal person claims to be a Painkiller. If so, this could be the quickest cleansing of cultists ever. The 4th person is an entertainer, a Bard. He is looking for songs to write of heroic adventures. Maybe he will learn there are no heroes, only victors in battles.
 
Someone makes the decision to walk to this place. I point out the difference between time walking and riding, but apparently purse strings are tight, and we walk.
 
First night of camping, we are jumped by frog people, no pun intended. I essentially handle two easily. The others take care of the third. My first impressions are I am the only one with any skill. The other Painkiller seems woefully inept. I find myself questioning Dispater's decision.
 
We find what we believe is a hideout. Walking down a hall we here a voice in a language I am unfamiliar with. Concentrating on my helm it is a threat to leave or die. I continue down the hallway only to eat a devastating Lightning Bolt. Damn casters have no fighting skills. I quickly heal from the event and advance. I seal the deal and deliver a mighty blow. The caster turns invisible and runs, I again draw meat. The Paladin begins whining that we should leave. Warrior of Good my ass. He then begins to chat with our enemy promising our exit. Im about to kill this guy myself, but that would net me no more work in this area, so I have to suffer his incompetence along with our Painintheass companion. The bard at least is healing.
 
The Paladin decides to finally join the fight, only to be choked out. At least he is taking damage that someone useful might instead be taking. I turn the corner and dispatch the caster. Once gone, the Choker targets me. I again cast my seal, and he deflects my blow. The paladin begins wasting his heals on incompetent fools. This error in judging the ability of combat among our team almost cost us. Had he healed me, I would not have fallen to two incredible blows from a mighty opponent.
 
I am not sure what happened for a period of time until I became conscious again. I quaff a potion, stand and take a swing at a Choker. The blow glances off and he downs me again.
 
Once again, I regain consciousness. I stand again and call on Dispaters Infernal Conduit. Hitting square, I heal myself and trigger my seal. The Choker finally falls.
 
The battle drained all our resources, including my only 2 potions of healing. We rest to regain our health and abilities. I chide the paper hero for running, and demand the Painkiller to live up to his promise to Disapter.
 
The very next encounter is against a Spectator. A Beholder type of creature who hovers and cast spells. I enter the room drawing my bow. Apparently, nobody else is equipped for range battle. This thing can hover out of melee range and free cast, and it does. Mal runs away. Great, now we are learning bad habits for the Uselessadin. The Bard puts it asleep. At least someone in this group other then me is useful!
 
I suggest we leave since half the party is incapable of meaningful combat. They agree. We quietly shut the door and let the spectator sleep on the few arrows I put in it.
 
We continue on. I find myself wondering if we make it out alive. The paper hero and Laimkiller can die for all I care. If that happens, the bard and I surely would be smart enough to leave. Soldiers die everyday so the skilled warriors can continue on.........