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A Day in the LifeFrom the Journals of Lord Daiten of Ism, Wandering Exorcist...
I will not mince words. As a Priest, I often find myself without funds. Giving is more my nature than taking, and I will always give whatever I have to help those who truly need it.
This was one of those rare occasions where I had money for myself. I had finally saved enough from those journeys to clear the woods of the seemingly endless goblins to purchase myself some new boots and greaves. I even had some new socks thrown in on the deal, I needed them pretty badly. My previous pair was so horrifying that I burned them.
That day I had received a request to clear out the murky area of the forest called Poison Thunderland. Rumor has it that a particularly pesky beast called Penril has taken up residence in its acrid depths. Hoisting up my trusty cross and my spare rosary, I trudged off into the glade to find this purple beast.
My first and biggest problem was in the swamp itself. Normally, I wouldn't mind sludge getting on my gear, but one look at the purplish goop that gurgled menacingly in front of me gave me pause. A piece of scrap metal lying on the ground nearby gave evidence to the power of the muck. The metal’s edges were eaten and torn. I certainly didn't want to set foot in this quagmire without some sort of protective amulet. A further test by dipping the unlucky fragment into the mess yielded much hissing, foaming, and an acrid stench as the metal was eaten away before my eyes.
After three hours, I hadn’t made much progress into the swamp. At least that’s what I thought. It turns out that it’s so easy to get lost in that swamp that what feels like a mile may only be 200 feet. I didn’t encounter many creatures. Those that I did were dispatched with a swing of my cross straight into the nearest pit, where the swamp did the rest. I'm not one to cheat, but if Jeda in his glory grants me this boon through the land, then I would be remiss in taking His gifts for granted.
After several hours of painstakingly slow travel, a low, piercing cackle alerted me to the presence of the creature I sought. A quick glance around a gnarled and rotting oak tree confirmed my suspicions. Penril was in the clearing up ahead. He was hunched over with his back to me, and based on the sounds he was makinghewas gnawing on a scrap of bone. It was now or never and I took off like a demon chased by the sound of prayer.
Penril turned, his dank, red eyes tracking me as I swung my cross horizontally. I caught him in the midsection across one of the spars of my cross, pitching him (and his meal) across the clearing at a nearby tree. Penril rebounded with a meaty thud, yet still landed on all fours. He was trembling from the impact, but seemed otherwise unhurt.
Penril snarled a vicious warning, rearing back to add momentum to his lunge. His claws and teeth were bared. I swung my cross upwards as he neared, catching him once more in the ribs and sending him sky-high. A mighty leap placed me in the air with him. He snarled with rage and useless anger while I prepared to finish him.
"Jeda grant me strength," I shouted to the Heavens. "Phoenix Hammer!" The result was an ugly crunching and a much safer section of the swamp.
The gristly deed done, I carefully extracted his poison gland from behind the jawbone. Supposedly, it could be used to cure poisoning inflicted by other creatures. I sealed it in a special pouch which would contain the noxious odors that leaked and billowed from the small organ. I said a prayer of regret over the corpse, asking for his forgiveness and assuring him that with the extraction of his precious organ, it would be saving the lives of many people who would have otherwise died. I asked Jeda for divine intercession on the behalf of the fallen creature, and with one last benediction, began my lengthy trek back to Hendon Myre.
Just another day for one who serves, and I whistled a happy tune on my way back to town.