My last thoughts before drifting could not be true, I ruminated. My new friend and ally, Taron, transformed into a cursed, nightmarish creature, stripping him of his reason, and leaving him as a bloodthirsty fiend controlled by nothing but his animalistic passions!
Upon awakening, my friend had disappeared but soon returned with two of our missing comrades. He acted as the friend I once knew, but even he did not deny his horrific transformation into a were-creature.
For some unknown reason, I greeted my friend and accepted him back into our group. I must have been mad! But when I looked around, all of my companions seemed happy to see him once more. My only conclusion is that we must all have lost our minds, to be in denial of what we all saw, or worst yet, I am the only one of my friends who is not a were-creature. Why else would they accept a monster into their midst?
Regrouped once more, we set out to rescue a group of people captured and enslaved by gnolls. Perhaps this is why I refused to believe that my friends were all evil bloodthirsty beasts. They seemed to be risking their lives for others, but I was still wary and uncertain. Perhaps they were luring me into a trap to make me one of their own. I could not abandon those enslaved by the tribe of gnolls and I could not abandon a friend who could need my help. We continued our search for the enslaved, though I thought, I might find nothing but my death.
Soon we discovered the gnoll camp. Feng charged the horde with a rage and hatred of evil that I had never before seen. In fact, all my friends risked their lives for these people even though we didn’t know any of the prisoners. I was relieved and glad that I stayed with my new found friends. How could I abandon such allies who were willing to sacrifice for people they had never met?
The fight was not easy. The size of the horde was greater than any of us anticipated. We were soon overwhelmed and when I saw Fang take a near fatal wound, I thought we were all going to die. I found myself in a moral dilemma. I just put several of their warriors to sleep with a well-cast spell, but I knew that they were just the first wave to strike my comrades. I could either hope that my spell would keep my enemies entranced or I could end them with the sword. Torn as I was, I killed my enemies. I could not risk the lives of my comrades because of my moral objections, especially when it looked like we were going to be overrun and killed.
Eventually, we were victorious, but Taron once again transformed into a were-badger. After the battle had ended, he fled into the wilderness. As my friend risked his life for ours, I must find a way to save my friend before his soul becomes corrupted like the monster that cursed him.
From the journal of
Quentenius Weatherby III