Duran's fog spell came to fruition sooner than expected, as fog rolled over the road he was on. It would buy him some time. at least. He could hear rustling outside of the fog as whoever was outside of it made their way closer. immediately, one of the cultists' blades came flying through the fog, narrowly missing him thanks only to the fog that obscured it's sight. That was Goma's cue; nobody attacked her master and got away uninjured. She lept through the fog and disappeared, followed only a second later by the sound of a struggle. Duran rushed to the center of the commotion and found Goma atop a cultist, ripping through the flesh of the arm it put up to protect itself. Duran froze for but a second as he heard the sound of the cultist breathing in.
"GOMA! MOVE!"
Without hesitation, the wolf jumped off of the cultist, as a gout of fire blasted upwards where Goma's face had been. Duran could feel the heat from where he stood, and he knew that if Goma had stayed for even one instant longer, she'd have been caught in the flame and immolated. A rage from deep within festered and bubbled up to the surface. A hate the likes of which he had never felt gripped him, and he rushed in to deliver the killing blow to the cultist that had almost done the same to his beloved Goma. He lept through the air, his spear over his head, and came down on the cultist like crashing thunder. The instant before he felt the spear slide into flesh, however, he found himself in someplace he was not expecting to be in.
Duran landed on the ground with a thud, his spear still held in his hands as if he was poised to strike still. His head was spinning and his stomach churned. He immediately stumbled up and look around for Goma desperately. He saw her not but a few feet away, looking as puzzled as he was. He ran to her and inspected her head to paw for injuries. He gained his composure just in time to hear something about how there were no clerics available, which would surely complicate thing for the injured.
As Duran made his way into the camp, he thought about those that were not so lucky. He knew that it would happen, but he didn't know that the circumstances would be an ambush, which, it seemed, somebody should have known about before they set out on a mission that was sure to end in disaster. They had lost at least four in the battle, and it seemed that two were grievously injured. Duran couldn't find suitable emotions to react to what had happened. This is why he didn't want to get to know these people on the first night. This was the reason he slept outside. This is why he told nobody in his Order where he was going. People were sure to die. There was no "maybe" when it came down to a situation like this.
Duran felt guilty. He didn't know any of these people, but he felt powerless to help them. He was a druid. His healing magic was not nearly as potent as a cleric's magic. He could do nothing in a fight but cause some petty distractions. He could not wear heavy armor, he could not significantly heal the injured. What was he doing here? He had his reasons, but his revenge hardly seemed a worthy cause anymore.
"Duran...you should have enough magic to heal what petty damage you've suffered."
He couldn't look up. It was true; he hadn't suffered any injuries. No physical injuries at least. As soon as he was dismissed, he made his way to his tent with Goma. He sat down and looked her in the face and she whimpered.
"I don't know what I was thinking, girl. This is what I expected, but it's all so real. We survived today, but I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. This whole war...It just isn't right."
Goma responded with a soft nuzzle into Duran's chest as he pet her head.
Duran sighed and thought about his life. He worshiped nature, but more and more everyday, it seemed like nature was the problem with the world. The natural order of things was gone. The dragons sought to annihilate them all, and even if the other races managed to get rid of them, it would just go back to the race war between Primah and Civee. Balance was shattered, and there was no going back to the way things were.
Duran bowed his head, and prayed inwardly. He wasn't sure who he was praying to, or why, but he felt like it was the right thing to do.
"I don't know who's listening, but I know there is somebody or something out there. I just need to know that this is all for a reason. I can't just let this happen without justification. Just give anything you need to give to help me. A sign, a plan, a reason...the power to stop the bloodshed. The power to bring cessation to hostility. Don't do it for me. Do it for those that lay dying. Do it for those who have died. Do it for those that still live. I will give you whatever you need to bring my wish to life."
Duran opened his eyes once more, and lay down on the ground. Goma silently did the same, waiting for tomorrow, and presumably, another brush with death.