The Heroes of Baldur's Gate... and Me

Part 20: Rosymorn Ruins

The morning is heralded by a bright autumn sun and the chorus of birdsong in the pines surrounding our camp in the chapel ruins.
A crisp chill hangs in the air but warmed when the sun meets the rosy stones and tents below. A light mist hangs over the valley, the trees and grass kissed with fresh dew, that glistens like beads of crystal on cobwebs and leaves.

I awake and rise before the others and make my way to the smouldering embers of the campfire. My body is stiff, aching painfully from the long day yesterday. My lower back, especially, twinges from carrying a pack all day.

I sit at my usual spot on one of the logs surrounding the campfire and proceed to stir life back into the coals. Once I have added fresh wood and the flames flicker back to life, I put the kettle pot full of water on the hook and hang it over the fire to boil.

Since sharing a bed with Astarion, my usual nightmares had dwindled, and my nights had been relatively peaceful. However, last night, my dreams had been plagued with visions of Lyra; lost and alone.
In one, I had found myself back in the featureless wood, chasing her cries as they echoed through the endless trees.

Another nightmare, I was trapped in a long corridor, the front door to our cottage at the far end. However, when I tried to reach the door, the corridor would stretch and elongate, and the door would become further away.

I shudder as I remember my last dream - it had been the worst. I had dreamt that Lyra had been taken, kidnapped. And when I investigated, I found she had been taken along with the Gur children - by a vampire spawn with silver white hair and glowing blood red eyes.

I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the lingering images of the dream. Hearing the water within the kettle hiss and boil, I remove it with the help of a hooked rod and pour the water in a cup filled with a raspberry leaf tea.

I sip on my tea, grimacing slightly against the sour taste. If only I had some sugar or honey to sweeten it with.

I hear a soft padding to my right and turn to see Scratch plodding over sleepily, his tail wagging in greeting.
"Morning Scratch." I whisper softly as the dog reaches my side, and I run my hands through his long white fur, marvelling at its softness. He leans his body against mine as I scratch his neck beneath the collar before moving up to his ears. His eyes close in contentment, his tail wagging furiously.

"Are you looking forward to getting home to Rivington as well?" I ask him, stroking the velvety fur of his muzzle. "You used to work for Sword Coast Couriers, didn't you?"

Sword Coast Couriers had been a fixture of Rivington for almost twenty years, located just before the bridge to Wyms Rock, opposite the Open Hand temple. I try to recall some of the people who had worked there, remembering a stern woman with a face like a smacked arse, and a young gnome who always seemed to be rushing, like the fires of Avenus were on his heels. Of course, the dwarf who worked behind the counter, Danzo, was well known to the town being of friendly countenance if a bit pedantic.

"Lyra is going to love meeting you. She was always excited to see the couriers' dogs going back and forth." I say with a chuckle, as I ruffle his scruff with both hands. His tongue lolls out in happiness, his mouth appearing to smile, and his eyes bright and sparkling.

That's if we ever make it home.

I sigh and try to push the dark thoughts from my mind, but they refuse to leave, instead multiplying till I am engulfed, sinking into a dark pit of despair.

Who am I kidding? There is no way I can survive this; the tadpole or the cultists. I might as well be a mouse in a viper's nest.
I will perish out here.