Rath: Outside Looking In

For 3 nights, I watched as my new dwarven friend alternately stared into the fire and fumbled with quill and parchment, his face flickering from sorrow, to guilt, to rage. On the fourth night, I could watch silently no longer.

"I'm making a record of our travels." came the gruff reply to my query. Something in his face or in his voice told me the story his words could not: he was trying to find some way to deal with the death of his young charge, and friend, the monk Thelonious.

The more I've looked around the camp, the more I've begun to realize how deeply some members of this party have felt the pain of our recent losses. Of course I feel badly about what happened to young Llan, who was so obviously the moral center of this extended "family". And watching what happened to the monk. . .well, to have done that to Thelonious from what must have been a great distance indicates that our foes have a level of power at their command that, frankly, terrifies me.

Personally, I have a hard time feeling that close of a bond with anyone...whether that is a result of my odd parentage, or just a trait of my personality, I cannot be sure, but my friends have always been few. I follow the path of the Wolf, and few share my interests. My perviously solitary journeys were made alone because I couldn't find anyone like-minded enough, and it's better to go alone than with people one wearies of soon. However, of later, I have begun to find myself fascinated by Kitya's dedication to the Way of the Forest. I've always done things alone because I never found people who cared about the things I've cared for enough to suffer the attendant hardships, but now I find that my passion for the natural ways is outstripped by the wild-eyed fanaticism of a druid.

Pondering these thoughts, I turned to the newest member of our little band, the half-elven wizardess named Veya. She named herself a planeswalker, or rather, one-time apprentice to such. I had never before heard of anyone of less power than my grandfather travelling the planes, and the idea intruiges me. Now we're told that there is a good possibility that the Dragon Horde our leige-lord has sent us in search of lies on a plane other than our own. I find myself excited and perhaps a little worried at the prospect of leaping into a magical gate that when I have little to no idea what our destination is. The gates that we have already seen open before our eyes are mysterious enough for my liking.

It is true that I can be happy alone, and I've often preferred solitude to the constant bickering of human civilization. But I look forward to the end of our journey because I take with me people with whom I feel a rare bond of friendship, and a real friend is never an intrusion.