Enough Distraction

The final contest was as disorganized as one might imagine. I almost didn't show myself, and I told the others as much the night before, but something convinced me to follow through--duty or perhaps hope that I could gain help. After we completed the trial, even winning, I doubt strongly that there is anything to be gained.
 
Each of them is formidable in their own rights, to be sure, but there was no plan, no communication! When you form a band of soldiers, you must rely on each rank and file without question. Even when the battlefield is stifled by smoke or shouting (or entirely underwater), you fight as one or you lose. If you must fill deficiencies and correct mistakes, the enemy will break through these cracks and you will lose.
 
Yet we did not lose. Even though each one rushed ahead foolishly at every opening--most of all the flashy, frail one--even though I thrice fended off danger caused by brash actions, we managed to prevail the other team. The final obstacle was an abominable fish the size of which I had never seen: teeth the size of my fingers, a silver spear protruding achingly from its side, and the prize we needed to secure wrapped around its neck . I steeled myself, ready for a fight I desperately hoped I could win in the beast's own domain. Two of the fools rushed past me, somehow wrenching both the amulet and the spear from the fish. Luck, not skill, was on their side as the spear rent its flesh and the fish thrashed itself to death.
 
Perhaps I could have seen value then, if all we did was prevail despite foolish tactics. Instead, we found ourselves in a cavern outside of the official course. A mysterious medallion sat on a pedestal, and I could feel it calling. We all could. That fool Ezra, the one without a calling beyond coin, reached out and took the thing. We were thrust into a vision that I must only describe as deceitful. Something masquerading as celestial beseeched us to free it from a prison, a prison it might very well deserve to be in.
 
Evil is as convincing as valor. Imagine that each of this band was ready to jump at this anonymous beckoning for nothing but the promise of adventure. Not I. Every minute I waste puts another nail in Fionn's coffin, and now I know that there is a chance: a Kobold gave me word that a mass of children were brought through Jigow on their way to Bazzoxan. I have no reason to distrust this information, as in return the Kobold asked only that I pay donation to a nearby orphanage.
 
I will head off first thing toward Bazzoxan, deeper into Xhorhas. Let the others have their damned adventure.