Haloisi settled comfortably in her bed. The madness was still on her, the sheer vibrant giddiness of having knocked the so called Dread Lady Niln ass over teakettle from her perch atop an undead dragon. The blast of water had been perfect, but unfortunately not enough to separate the staff from its wielder. Whatever had she been thinking? Had she learned nothing on the wall?
When had she abandoned reason for madness? She had been so angry… So angry to see a bold, beautiful bronze dragon murdered and enslaved by that creature of darkness. Her spear had trembled in her white knuckled grasp as she fought the urge to charge the necromancer.
Haloisi rolled in the bed and picked up the spear, examining it for the thousandth time from the comfort of her pillow. It was clearly a rather common magic spear, which she appreciated when it struck true. But on odd occasion, she felt as though she were overlooking something that ought to be familiar when she held it, perhaps a parallel from history that mirrored their own adventures?
She rolled the spear absently in her hand as her eyes drowsed and she turned once more to introspection. She wasn’t anxious. She wasn’t second guessing the days events, nor quaking in fear as she had after facing the undead giants. She was content, cozy in her bed, as if the day’s events were a story from one of her songs. What was different?
Lorran was back. It was as if the universe had deigned reveal its plans for the party, and those plans were in the favor of Haloisi and her companions. Her euphoria shook for a moment as her logical core rebelled against such nonsensical deification of the day’s events. She was going to become as wooden headed as Thelonius, the Monk who had appeared from the blue. He was so far down in Haloisi’s esteem that she did not even bother to consider whether or not he could be trusted. The fool had charged the undead dragon and tried to wrest Darin from his fate. But then, that had been Halosi’s urge as well, though she was bewitched and confused before she could act on it.
The momentary dark cloud passed, and the euphoria returned. Haloisi snuggled in her bed, luxuriating in the feather mattress and pillow. In the back of her mind, she knew the softness of the bed was a carefully and diplomatically avoided insult that none of the dwarven staff would mention given the rising esteem of Haloisi and her party. Their reasoning being that she was a delicate, pale blue skinned elf and couldn’t be expected to be hardy enough to endure a true dwarven bed. Haloisi snuggled in tighter. Hopefully her deeds would not earn her the ‘honor’ of one of those rock slabs of mattresses that Fletcher and Thifal were forced to sleep upon!
Haloisi fell asleep in the cloud of covers, unconsciously clutching her spear as if she were a goddess holding a bolt of lightning.