There were days I sincerely regretted taking on the mantle of Grey Warden. I’ve been having a lot of those days lately, but this was not one of them.
After time spent communing in the wilderness, including a rather regrettable night squandered imbibing coarse dwarven beer, we finally set ourselves on the road to Xin-Shalast. This glowing path led us almost unto our deaths as the ice grew thin and disappeared beneath our feet.
The guardian spirit of these lands chose, once she had determined we were no friends of Karzoug, to guide us out of the swamps that were her demesne. She left us on the edge of Xin-Shalast, and I have never seen such a city! Oh what this place must have looked like in its prime! I could have made quite the living here with very little work.
Thank Desna (and any other god who might be listening coughBrewmasterandToragcough), I finally felt in my element today. Even trudging through unreasonable amounts of snow, I was at home with all senses at the alert, moving with the shadows as we approached what could be our doom. Even that could not dull my optimism. There were no demons attempting to control my mind, no finger wagglers casting spells at me I could not counter.
No, this day, I was able to do what I do best – steal through the shadows and bring death to my enemies. If there were any of that dwarven beer left, I would drink to that.