Mood: guarded, frustrated, distant, closed.
Emotional Control: medium to medium-low.
Reasons: Starfall. Imprisonment. Mistrust in others’ motives.
Vallo is his name – a colourful creature, a too-enthusiastic creature. The fireballs he flung from above, pushing back the lizards and drakes, means an obligation, a debt. The debts seem to be piling up, two of my companions having spared my life as of late. Vallo with his fire, Therion with his Gnomeish promise. I refuse to trust, however. To trust, at this point, is to die. My dreams are of goals held tantalizingly in front of me, always out of reach, always pulling away. This must end, or I fear my control will break.
Vallo leads only semi-competently, but his knack for finding high ground cannot be discounted. The island is beautiful in a dream-like manner, appearing shifted and strange. Earlier our path emerged onto a cliffside, overlooking a pass below. Two groups squared off. Tiefling against Orc. Hard creatures, all, and yet they stood at an impasse, the passage desired by the Orcs held firmly by the Tiefling radicals.
A closer look led to a swift fall. Lesson learned: avoid cliff edges. Spotted by a weak Tiefling, who beckoned for me to join him and his cause. Quiet, fool. In my pain my anger seeped through, and the pathetic creature turned to run in fear. One look from his commander spun him again toward me. His hands became fire. Fire filled the wind. Fire exploded too close behind my head. In the end, he must pay for his insolence.
Gathering my feet and sprinting forward, I thrust my spear at the fool. The fire from his hands must have pooled in the Tieflings very blood. Soon fire leaked into the stone, and where once pillars stood, fire beasts now roamed. Stab, keep stabbing, feel the emotion sucked from the enemy, filling me.
My initial surge is taken for a temporary alliance between the Orcs, my companions, and my greatspear. Blood, fire, these I can understand. But snakes, summoned from the ether. These are cause for worry, cause for distraction. As I burned and bled, the snakes kept attacking, kept swarming. I fell into darkness.
With light, I saw Vallo – twice I owe him my blood. With new life flows new emotion. I attacked and killed. Therion raged and thrashed. Vallo burned and guided from afar. An Orc, stronger and braver than the rest, fought til the end with us prisoners and our guide. He is Jahzeel. He is stern, quiet. He leads now. To Rockslide we march, home of Marcus Crown. To return the necklace. To find salvation. These are my prayers.