Everybody has their own process with grief. A cycle of anger, sadness, bargaining and acceptance is the norm. For me the norm took on it’s own life. As did those for whom I grieved. We were simply travelers. Among us was Klieve, she was good with a bow, Unger, ever the trustworthy pack-mule and ever burdened with his vast assortment of trinkets and then there was Yowl, a well studied man and my closest friend, master in the arcane arts and able drinking buddy. Upon our trek, on high noon of the laticeday, we were waylaid upon the river front of gall. It was our hopes to ford the mighty river, but found ourselves pursued by savage miscreants, bent on scouring our remains for the petty treasures that we held. The river was in full swell and as we made our attempt to ford arrows rained from the sky burgeoning from our packs and littering the waters around us. Klieve did her best to match their volleys and while she was able to fell two so too did she fall. Struck in the belly and the breast. Upon making it into the depths of the water Unger fell below the depths, stumbling upon a void in the water that the rapid waters hid from view. When I lost Yowl, only then did I truly understand how deep the depths of despair could go. “Ulnik, to the other side! Quickly! Swim! I will hold them!” Turning about face to the onslaught of arrows Yowl cast a tremendous arcane circle in the air before him and from it a great dragon reared its ugly face to the horde of bandits standing on the banks. At this point an arrow took its mark upon my friend. I did not see this as I was swimming frantically towards the shore, but I heard the penetrating blow and his death rattling gasp. From the far embankment I watched as that tremendous beast tore and rended the limbs and heads from the bodies of those savages. I gave a manic smile at this, tears streaming across my cheek though I could not feel them as I was already soaked to the bone. So started my grieving. So started the anger. To be cont.