The folly of it all

23/04
 
I've come to a realization. Finding Berry may be the best thing that's ever happened to me — but it is making me incredibly anxious. Having this responsibility for another creature, I mean. Since we've made our return to the outpost, I've been spending every day with him. We go out together to graze — well, he grazes, I just play around with my pan flute and keep a look out for any danger. Berry is an absolute sweetheart and quite cuddly, though that might just be because he has a separate stomach for berries and is always trying to tempt me to feed him more. It's become a habit to settle down with him for the night, just leaning against him while I take a rest.
It's...unfamiliar. The warmth, the routine, the not being alone — all of it, really. I might be liking it a bit too much.
I'm set to leave with another group of adventurers. We're planning to go to an old lighthouse in hopes of finding treasures and some kind of information. I've never really cared about money or treasures or knowing more than I need to.... But now? One look at the price tag of some decent barding for Berry forces me head first into danger. And even when I wonder if it is worth it to risk my life, just to procure means that hopefully secure his... My mind is set. I need to find ways to steel him for this hostile environment.
 
I hope he will forgive my absence of a few days, I've made sure to tell him where I'm going. Just in case... I also made sure to tell him to look for the familiar faces from my last party, should I not return.
 
24/04
 
We've a pretty big group this time around. Six in total. They seem, once again, very motivated. Our paladin Olra is an Owlin, she carries a beautiful coat of feathers and flies through the air like it's nothing. It's made me a bit jealous, to be honest. I'm still not skilled enough to take flight, I ought to put in more work into my training. Maybe I'm also jealous of the way Olra just seems to be knowing what she's doing. I used to feel confident in myself, too, but so much has changed since I came here...
 
25/04
 
Another day, another fight that randomly erupted. We had noticed some creatures hiding behind a hill and separated into two groups to have a closer look at them and — at least that's what I thought — decide if they were any danger to us. I'm not sure what exactly happened, but the other group quickly ended up engaged in battle. Olra, Stare-y and I continued to make our way along the coast, somewhat keeping an eye on everything and not engaging. Well, I guess Stare-y somewhat tried. He talked to some birds and got himself cheated out of a ration. It was a bit funny and very harmless, but I tried not to laugh about it. Not like the situation allowed it anyways.
The other three seem to have picked a fight with a pretty strong opponent. It took them a while to hurt the bandit enough to make their companions nervous.
 
I wouldn't say I'm proud of it, but as soon as I saw their knees shaking, I couldn't stop myself from stepping up and demanding the bandits' possessions. I have a horse to care for, I truly needed the money.
 
Their leader was just as pissed (figuratively) as his companions (literally) when they saw them waddle away. They surrendered themselves, only to fool Grunk with a smoke bomb. The poor bastard took the chance to run as fast as their bloodied body could take them (their speed was commendable), yet Olra and Stare-y tried to intercept them and give them a finishing blow.
They both missed, yet it left me to wonder....
 
Why were they so set on killing the person when there was no longer a reason to, as they had started to run away? It's not that I'm a pacifist who refuses to kill — I just believe there should be some kind of reason for it. As soon as a hostile enemy runs away, doesn't the reason disappear? It's concerning how quickly they choose to aim their weapons and, like bloodhounds, refuse to let their prey off the hook. As I did reverse-rob the bandits, I can't fully wash myself clean of this mess. However, judging by the glint in the bandit's eye as they ran away, this battle is not yet over. I wonder who drew more of their wrath — my party members who almost killed them, or their party members who abandoned them in almost lethal combat?
I do not plan to be around to find out, yet I surely would resent my party much more.
 
Anyways. After venturing out with a party of passionate fighters for the second time, I wonder what would have happened had they come across ME doing what I always do. My tribe is always wandering and usually separated to cover more ground as we tend to nature. Would my party members have raised their weapons against me, too, had they encountered me hiding between the trees — as I was taught to do?
 
It leaves an uncomfortable sensation in my stomach. Maybe I am the odd one here, but I just can't help feeling...discomfort about the apparent rules of this place.
 
02/05
 
Questions keep piling up and have been weighing me down far too heavily. I cannot wait to return to the outpost and see Berry again — I hope he will receive me happily and not hold my prolonged absence against me too much. I truly do need the comfort of being alone, away from busy parties, but I am even more grateful to know that I will not be lonely. I never understood what "lonely" meant until today, I think. There really is a difference between alone and lonely, it turns out.
 
Anyways. Much has happened and little of it was enjoyable.
After more travel, we finally made it to "The collector's Folly", a lighthouse that once belonged to someone known as "the collector". The Monk in our group, Narmer, had been here a few weeks ago with a different party. Narmer had told us that they defeated the collector and the giant under his control, Runak. It seems their last battle shook up the lighthouse and whatever fey magic was within it. The tower was in weathered ruins, just a short time after the party had left. As Olra flew around what was left of the tower, time seemed to slow and quicken around her. Something had messed up the flow of time (probably the fey magic), which had us stuck in the tower longer than I had anticipated.
 
I had a bad feeling as soon as we stepped in. The floor looked...brittle and for the first time in a long time, I felt very conscious of my strong build. I remained at the entrance, where the stone was still more solid, as Stare-y and Grunk ventured into the circular room to have a look at a desk. They had found some magical stones and notes that hinted towards the stones having some kind of elemental magic. The drawings in the notes also showed an exceptionally large hand holding them. Since we already knew about the giant, this wasn't much of a surprise.
What was a surprise, however, was when said giant suddenly dropped from the ceiling and crashed through the floor, taking Stare-y along with him.
Out of instinct, I called out to the both of them, asking whether they were okay. I know that as a half-giant, giants might not be particularly fond of me, but... I do speak their language and how could I have been sure that Runak hadn't just fallen down instead of attacking on purpose? I still struggle to figure out what creatures are enemies and which ones aren't — especially since quite a lot of the mercenaries in the outpost are of races I have not encountered before or behave in a "rough" way, even when friendly. I've felt inclined to give everyone the benefit of the doubt to try and avoid getting myself in hot water due to my lack of social skills. Still, as it turned out, Runak's lips had been sewn shut so he couldn't really answer but I took his roar as an "I am not okay and I am very angry."
That left us with Stare-y down in a hole with an angry giant.
Of course, leaving Stare-y behind was not an option so we would have to fight Runak. I did not think this was something to debate over, as the other party members were pretty keen on fighting for treasure while we were on our way here.
Yet it was Narmer, the one who was the most excited and pushing for a fight the most, who tried to take off and make a run for it.
Suddenly, I could understand the glint in the bandit's eye and I am very sure the fate of the other three bandits has been sealed by now and did not look pretty.
To even think of abandoning a companion who had simply gotten incredibly unlucky — it was a painful reminder that this was a rag-tag team of strangers who would move on to other groups for the next expedition and likely not mourn my death should I fall here.
But especially because it was the monk who had been so keen for a fight that was trying to run, I felt angry. He, too, noticed our anger and went down the hole after all, already scared of death.
He had no reason to, really. Even as he and Stare-y got beaten unconscious and could have died, I was there to make sure they'd live. That was my goal in all of this — zero deaths. I was prepared, too. Healing spells, coupled with the support of the chalice constellation brought them right back. Yet as soon as he was up again, Narmer was once again fearful of death.
I wonder if he ever thought about how Stare-y had felt in the split second it seemed like his party was abandoning him?
 
While all of this was going on, Olra was dealing a steady influx of damage onto Runak. She truly was amazing. Brave, strong and smart. Runak, with his dying breath, returned the favor and mashed her up badly. Once Runak had died, his head no longer attached to his body, we found Olra, who had smashed through a wall.
 
The room she had accidentally discovered was filled with gold and treasures, yet I couldn't help but to fixate on the red dripping down all those luxuries. The image of Olra unconscious and close to death on that pile of gold burnt itself into my brain. It stunned me for far too long until I gathered myself and hurried to heal her.
 
We are taking a break before making our way back to the outpost. I have my loot with me, yet I can't bring myself to have a look at it. It's heavy, so I hope to have gathered enough to afford some barding for Berry. But I still wonder... Is this worth it?
 
Risking lives for material value goes against everything I've been taught and have lived by until now. All these changes have me reeling. I used to like change — to watch how the world around me slowly shifts and flows between seasons and stages of life. But now I feel like I'm still caught in that tower's time rift.
I ventured here for no particular reason, as I had no particular reason to stay where I was before either. But it seems like I was too naive. This place is like a different world where nothing is as I knew it.
The one thing I finally do understand: There was a reason why we remained hidden in the forest. The world outside of the forest is chaotic and savage.
There is no going back now, so I will adapt to it. I will not, however, transform myself to fit into it.
 
I will wash my loot and gather some berries as we make our way back. Maybe thinking of Berry will let me shake off this unsavory feeling by the time I return to the outpost.