A CLERIC’S DAY
The morning comes too soon.
It was another bad night, tortured by the haunted screams and the vivid images of the previous day. My heart is tired, but I must not falter. I met my comrades on the field. Still and quiet. Only the crickets give evidence of life beyond our keep. Today will be another rough day. I bolster my faith, surrounding myself with it like a piece of impregnable armor. I know that many will go out to meet their deaths and only a few will return. For all our sakes, I must put that aside and mourn later. For now it is war. I am needed to give heart, faith and healing to my comrades. If I must, I will help as well. Not that someone like me could do much. I pray to Tunare for strength and guidance.
All communications are in and the report is not good. Our scouts have given us a target. An army of orcs are controlling the southern path letting us know that we shall not pass. Our troops are ready to move out. I only pray that everyone will return. I look at the faces of those with me, those in my group and those beyond, they are anxious. They know the risks and yet the shouts of glory and victory drive them like a cruel master. They look to me for comfort and to keep them going. I hope I do not fail them.
We reach the gate, but the enemy is nowhere to be seen. The stink is fresh. Do we venture forth or stay behind where it is safe? Our orders are clear, we must continue forward. We must keep them from penning between our keep and their forces. Group by group we venture forward along the path.
A flash of light and some music. I can’t move. The brutishness of our foes keeps me rooted in place. All around me I hear the screams of agony mixed with their terrible howls of victory. The orcs have surrounded us, cutting off our escape route. I see my friends and fellow fighters going down one by one under the merciless swords of the orcs. I am helpless. I see them looking to me for help and it breaks my heart. How cruel this enemy is, to leave me with sight and hearing, yet deprive me of movement.
I feel my hands start to glow. I begin the motions, healing as I can, trying to heal those around me that are still standing. I once again summon my faith to provide a bunker for those left as I race to save those who may yet be living. Frantically, I race against time to save one then another hoping I can stay strong. Our enemies, those that threaten my homeland, are strong. I am not sure how much longer I can hold out. I can feel the energy draining away.
Behind me I hear the sound of fresh troops bearing down on us and I send a hurried prayer of thanks to Tunare. Re-enforcements have arrived. Somewhere inside me, I find the power to continue healing and bolstering as much as I can. I watch as our enemies slowly fall beneath our forces until there are none left. Gratefully, I regroup. Looking around, I see that most of us still live. Able to return to our keep victorious.
There are celebrations, joyful reunions and tales to be told. I hang back. Today we were lucky; tomorrow we will face death again. How can we hold out? I don’t know, but I cannot give up the faith.
It is my calling.
I am a cleric.
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