One hell of a drop-off

After taking quite a beating in the den of the Pirates, we eventually made it out to the soothing light of day. I plopped down on the rocks and just basked in it. That didn't last too very long, as Cialis, the group surgeon, was as eager as I was to get back. In a move of sheer haste, stupidity, and ignorance, I ran ahead, straight off of the edge of a cliff. Down, down, I fell into the abyss, followed by a sickening thud. Every part of my body in signifigantly poorer condition than before the fall. My body ached, and soon...everything was black.

When I came to, my companions to my last adventure were standing over me, wincing in sympathy, whispering to each other. I heard a few statements: "Do you think he'll make it?" "I've seen much worse in my day. He'll be fine."
I certainly didn't feel fine. After that, Cialis, the group doctor came over and told me to just rest. I closed my eyes, and I guess he began the healing process. I awoke again, what must have been 10 minutes later, to Krista hovering overhead. She seemed very concerned, but very happy that I had parted my eyelids yet again. With much help from the group, I made my way back to the Royal Stag, where I was laid to bed to rest up, and offered many Get-Well-Soon wishes.

When I finally mustered the strength to get out of bed, I walked over to the table where I normally place my effects. They weren't there. Cialis, who had been posted to watch over me, told me that none of my equipment was salvageable. All of it was lost or destroyed. I took a second to absorb that. All of my hard earned treasures, the tools that paved my way to the present, where I was standing that day, are all gone. Just fucking great.

Many people told me that they would help me get it back, but maybe this is a sign. Maybe it's a turning point. Maybe it's nothing at all. I feel that I need to talk to Mr. Grey. I feel it urgently.