A Tour of the Planes

Memory Stone 101002

In which our heroes get on a different boat.

We continue our way through the streets. The dock is not far away, but another patrol blocks our way. These ones unleash blasts of holy energy at us. Clearly not typical guards, but even “blessed” as they may be, they fall. The boat, and the Templar, wait for us. Fortunately, the latter have not betrayed us. The Inquisition somehow found out about our actions. Curious, but of decreasing importance as we leave Venice.

The trip will take weeks, and there is precious little to do on this boat. I feel… something, crawling and scratching at the back of my mind. Is the source of this my inactivity? Guilt? I fear if I don’t excise this, it might… no. I’m better now. I’m better. I have to be. I can resolve this.

Ryltar and I watch as the others engage in gambling. Somehow they end up winning a map of Faerun. This, as Ryltar emphatically points out, should be impossible. He seems really upset over this development, and that the rest of us don’t care as much as he does. It is strange, but no more so than any of the other impossibilities that have happened to me. Besides, it’s sort of nice not having anything to do for once.

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ToriasKane TwoHeadsBarking

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