On the Death of Stars

Act I, chapter 4: Reprieve

You awake with a start. Your lungs feel heavy, your vision is foggy and a cold sweat broke out on your back. It takes you a few minutes to calm down and for your body to settle. You are in your bedroll, in your own tent, and there is a soft commotion outside. You hear the soft crackling of the campfire, smell some seasoned roasted meat. You're at camp, and according to your senses you are safe. You take a long inhale you do not need, but it starts a fit of violent coughing. Two people are approaching, your senses are not sharp enough to determine who. Shadowheart lifts the curtain of your pavilion, a worried look in her eyes, she is followed by Sire Hero. Well, that is how you decide to nickname him since you do not know his name. The cleric kneels at your side, one hand on your back and the other weaving a curative spell with precise fingers.

"There, there. It's going to be alright, Nettie told us that your body may need some time to get rid of the spores", she says in a reassuring tone. In between two extremely graceless expectorations, you manage to ask:

"-Spores? What in the Hells happened?

-Well, it seems the shadow druids marked you as a threat to their plans and as such specifically targeted you with discreet mycoplasma. We were lucky you managed to warn us right before you fainted: they immediately got out of their rat wildshapes, out for blood", explains the man, his eyes lost in the recounting of the events.

"Wyll is right, without your alert we would have been fully taken by surprise, at an even greater disadvantage. You may not have been able to assist us in the fight, but you got us an edge that probably saved us", confirms the half elf with a grateful smile on her face. The both of them wait in silence for your cough to pass, with the help of Shadowheart's healing word. You finally regained your senses:

"It seems that debt of yours contracted on the nautiloid has already been repaid, Shadowheart", you faintly laugh with a weak voice.

"It is! Seems like I have no use for you any longer", she banters. "Do you think you can stand?"

You almost manage to get up but your muscles are still unsteady. If not for the cleric catching you, you would have ridiculously fallen flat on your face.

"-Whoa there! It may be a little too much, for now.

-Do not worry, I'm a fast recoverer. But I will not shy away from some assistance to get to the bonfire.

-You know yourself better than I do. As you wish then", she answers, taking your left arm on her shoulder and signaling Wyll to get the other one with a movement of the head.

The scene may look a tad pitiful, but you want to be with the others tonight. You feel in your bones that this evening is important to live as a party. They help you slowly sit down, as all eyes are on you with a myriad of expressions: respectful gith, inquisitive wizard, curious vampire, concerned cleric and radiating with kindness from the stranger apparently named Wyll. It is a far cry from your home, but it feels good nonetheless. When Wild Howl trots to lie at your side, Shadowheart takes her distances immediately, returning to her place in the circle. The man does the same. Gale offers you a pork skewer that smells delicious, even to you who have not been one for normal food since your turning.

"-Thank you, but I will have to decline: it may be a bit tough on my stomach for now.

-I won't take it personally, even though I spent a lot of time to cook it with our limited supplies. May I interest you in some wine then?

-That, I will accept. Gratefully." you answer.

He extends his arm charitably, handing you a cup of a smooth white. The burn feels good in your throat: this alcohol is of far better quality than the red swill you had on your first night. You notice the conversations have quieted down since your arrival, and the air is full of unspoken questions. You sigh before saying: