17th of Guardian, 9:42 Dragon
Ah! It seems I misunderstood what that old woman was saying about the Amber Rage. It doesn’t take a handful of days for the disease to set in, it takes a handful of hours. Luckily she had a stock of potions around that could help stave off the effects of the disease for a day at a time. I wonder how many of those she has left? If I’m still correct that the shadowmoss grove is more than a day’s ride away, then the infected left behind in the town may be more screwed than I thought….
Also, it turns out that, even with magic on our side, finding the grove isn’t as simple as one would hope. The spell the old lady casts summons a raven, which we have to feed from a bag of beetles every hour so that it will take us to a campsite. There we have to set a fire and dump another bag of foul-smelling crap in it, which will apparently summon some fire sprites that will take us to the actual grove, where we have to fill ANOTHER bag (a proper gunny sack this time) with as much of the stuff as we can find. Because of course nothing involving magic can ever be simple.
On top of all that, there’s still no shortage of those yellow berserkers running around out here, but so far we’ve been lucky enough to miss them. We found a town with a ferry we needed to cross where they had killed everyone (save for one poor bastard who got infected; I gave him some of my medicine and sent him back to the festival town, where hopefully he’ll be safer), and came across a pair of non-infected wildlings who had gotten in a scrape with some and just managed to put them down when we arrived. There was also one fellow in a cart who chatted with us briefly; he and the tribesmen both pointed us towards a village on the edge of the Korcari Wilds, where hopefully we’ll be able to get a guide to help us find where we need to go.
In the meantime, we’re still following that damn bird, and I’ve pretty much lost track of how long we’ve been walking, and frankly at this point I’m debating the relative merits of giving into the Rage and finding myself some bandits to slaughter before I keel over. Once we’ve made it back to Aneth Ara after running all these bloody errands — IF we make it back — I’m seriously considering hanging up my spear and giving the middle finger to this adventuring life, at least for a little while. Every day my patience with all these fools’ errands and darkspawn and chasms and useless bloody villagers gets thinner and thinner, and I find myself giving less and less of a shit about the world going to hell around me. Back when I left Ostwick, I was hoping someday I’d find something that would inspire me to give up my wandering and settle down. I never expected that something to be disgust, or apathy, or the growing sense that all of Thedas can go and fuck itself.
Or maybe that’s just the fever talking.