A Change of Course

Perhaps I've grown more bullheaded as I've aged. Or perhaps I've always been proud. I recently came to believe that I could rely on no one but myself, but I'm reminded that I've counted on brothers in every battle we fought.
 
Perhaps it's time to trust again.
 
This morning I joined a caravan heading toward Baxxozan. The large mammoths were not ideal company, but the goblins that herded them were keen to gain a soldier's protection. It's a challenge to overcome my prejudice. The loss of Fionn is an open wound that festers with malice, but there are moments that I see humanity in them. The wolves within me continue to control me, yet being aware of them does not mean I control them.
 
So it was a strong cocktail of emotions that I produced when each of their lives were taken by the strange winged beast that attacked us in the day. It appeared suddenly above the trees. A deathly mist rolled off its body. One of the goblins called it "Gloomstalker".
 
A paralyzing fear gripped me as it roared toward us. Fear! Imagine this. Yet I was not in control of my body, whatever otherworldly powers this beast possessed. Skeletons rose from the mist and begun to attack the goblins that I had promised to protect. Whether they are redeemable or not, a promise made is a promise I must keep.
 
But then the beast snatched me up and carried me into the sky. The ground left my feet, and the stalker's wretched claws dug into my flesh. I cursed myself for not donning my armor for this journey--discretion be damned! I dipped into Pelor's blessing and staved the bleeding, focusing my enmity on the beast gripping me.
 
The sky around us erupted with noise. The air itself seemed to shatter. The beast dropped me from its grasp, likely to kill me with the fall. I lashed out with my spear in desperation, hoping to hold tight its rotting flesh. I willed Pelor's light into the point of my blade, but the strike was too shallow and I continued to fall.
 
By luck or Fate, I struck the ground but did not die. I could feel something damaged inside, but I rolled to my feet and circled around to prepare for the beast to come after me again. It was then that I saw the unexpected: those of mine from Jigow were racing toward us! I felt a momentary relief--the spark of hope?
 
The beast's cry rained down at us, and it dove at me once again. This time, it was exactly what I wanted. I drove my spear upward as the stalker came within reach, once again focusing Pelor's light into it. I shut my eyes against the brilliant flare. The beast released an agonized shriek and then fell dead, right atop me.
 
And that's the last thing I remember from the waking world.
 
I was in emptiness, and I felt nothing. There was a loneliness beyond anything I experienced before. I knew that my Fionn and Róisín were beyond my reach. My pride would be my final failure.
 
But then a light began to form before me. I felt a warmth, and I heard muffled voices. I reached outward, and suddenly I was awake!
 
I was also crushed beneath the behemoth. I heard more clearly the voices of my traveling companions. With my remaining strength and will, I pressed upwards. Adrenaline surged through my muscles as I strained, but the body of the stalker rose. It rose just enough to allow me to wiggle out, and I was free.
 
I humbled myself. If I am to rescue Fionn, no more can I rely on myself alone. At least until then, I must avail myself of all my resources -- these companions as well as my imperial armor. My amulet, too, was warm to the touch when I rose--perhaps a sign of Pelor's gift of another chance, another chance to rescue my son and redeem myself to those that came to my aid.