Lord Abadar, I think my mind is breaking. I have seen magic. I have seen power. I have seen men turn into dragons, I have seen trickster gods test mortal wits and loose, and I have seen power... true power. I stand beside living gods, and I am in awe. I am sorely unworthy, and I doubt my choices are my own anymore. I'm just another character in this story. I'm the luggage carrier.
We have rewound time itself. I watched my comrade proceed through our next encounter with precognition of the events to unfold. Another token taken for the cause. Next we sought the Night Peddler out in the endless desert. Only to encounter a traveling centaur merchant named... wait, did he really exist? Who meets a centaur in the middle of a desert? The poor chap shared his goods with a living tornado and acquired himself an unrequited admirer. He offered to help his find the Night Peddler if we do something about his problem. Not far behind, we found this talking windstorm who expressed an eagerness to "dance" with us. Our brawny meatshield volunteered and entered the vicinity of this sandy maelstrom only to emerge a moment later very bruised and battered. Which sounds like idiotic rubbish, yet the man survived walking into a sandstorm. Our newest, new friend, - I'll call him Sandy for now - followed us henceforth as we now became the object of his attachments. The Centaur rewarded us for our good deed with treasures from his magical bottomless bag. I gratefully replaced some missing tools, although I feel foolish about it now, what good have they done me in a living storybook?
We bid farewell to Horse Man, and follows his directions to the Night Peddler's camp. If I wasn't so morally besodden, I would have rather liked the high stakes, black market theme of the place. It gave my merchant gland a bit of a blood rush for a moment. Yet of course, nothing is that plain and simple. There were peasants here in a wooden cage marked to be sold to other worldy creatures. Your garden variety demons from what I heard the others call them. Our Paladin, Lord Meatshield, had the most dour expression henceforth. I knew where this was going to lead. Mistress and I - I am resigned to my fate, Tam is dead, long live Pip - saught to parley with the Night Peddler and came to a futures exchange of his token for for one future dragon treasure hoard. (we're after a dragon too, by the way) All was well and good until I saw that look in the Paladin's eye. It was not going to be a restful night.
SO I sabotaged everyone's plans by running out to the desert, and telling Tim the Tornado that there was a glittery, bejeweled man that wanted to dance with him. Pandemonium ensued. THATS RIGHT! I COMMITTED AN ACT OF CHAOS, YOU IMPOTENT DIETY! GO SUCK AN EGG! We didn't save any ant larva, although. Pity that. They had already been given to the demons.
But at least I contributed to the story.
I don't remember much after that until we were back in the briars with the Rabbit Prince, Bramblson. A caucus was had, and it was decided that we were to break another promise, this time to the Tick-Tok man. Nay, we decided to outright assassinate the creepy troll. (my idea) And we did just that. Oh he tried to put up a fight, and got a few good licks in, but Mistress and the sorceress have this coordinated magic spell they use. Where one drops down an impenetrable dome over some poor sap, and the other summons a raging blizzard inside it. It is a monstrous work of art to see happen. And this Tick-Tok man was a real monster by the look the Paladin was giving him. I literally felt the concussive force off that man's sword from all the way in back of the room when he smote the devil.
It made me glad I just have to carry the bags for these people.
I, Pip, of unsound mind do hear-by render null and void all previous Last Will and Testaments. This world is not real, and I should not abide by tenants of my faith when my god is busy taking a powder.