Traveling Light

For out-of-game events, wrapping up in-game adventures and rumours.
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Ataraxia
Posts: 212
Joined: Mon Jan 04, 2016 9:20 pm

Traveling Light

Postby Ataraxia » Tue May 30, 2017 12:11 am

The midday sun blazed on the back of a vagabond on this day of Mirtul but even if the heat squeezed every last drop of sweat out of him so as it oozed from his forehead and dripped to the tip of his sharp nose, and the unruly road’s many pebbles discomforted the soles of his bare feet, the cool breath he drew filled him with an energy that left him relaxed and content in the labors and pains of travels by foot. The companions which he had followed from Westgate to Selgaunt and from Selgaunt to Lyrabar had been sailors married to the treacherous sea, unlike him who loathed to spend more time than necessary in her jealous grasp. His only solace had been the moon and stars of His Lady of Silver and it was, in fact, his alleged connection to her that convinced the Captain of the Seneschal to welcome him aboard, free of charge.

The road was in his nomadic blood and the liberty that came with it was something he would not trade for the world’s weight in gold yet he missed walking side by side with his brothers and sisters; cousins, aunts, and uncles. Without his pack flanking him left and right, the road felt different; dormant. The traveler’s dark eyes surveyed the lush, woodsy landscape that anchored him in the moment, drawing him away from his thoughts as his steps led him from milestone to milestone; each cheering him on to walk just a little bit further toward the city of Sarshel. Word of festivities had reached him in Hlammach and Dilpur and his ears were now ringing with the placarding summer heat that whispered the music which he imagined in his mind along with the smells and tastes of mutton and mead, and the dances he could unwind in – did the people of Impiltur know dance and song? He now wondered. “Ten Miles”, the next milestone read when the Gur reached it and a triumphant sigh escaped through his nose as he then sat upon the stone; a throne that marked the conquest of the countless steps now behind him.

In the distance, the stone walls of the city peeked shyly over the trees, patiently reminding him that Sarshel was not moving anytime soon and that he could afford to relax for at least a moment. He took the feeling to heart and allowed his eyes to shut and turn inwards to reflect on the progress he had made, and the next actions he would take once reaching the city. There was something freeing and satisfying about completing a journey, about arriving at a destination, yet in the end, he was born to leave.

The Gur shook his head to dispel the thought and looked to his throbbing feet; crusted by dirt and mud accumulated over tendays of walking, "One thing is certain: this time I won't leave without wheels.”

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Ataraxia
Posts: 212
Joined: Mon Jan 04, 2016 9:20 pm

Five Miles

Postby Ataraxia » Tue May 30, 2017 8:32 pm

The potato sack thumped onto the grass and Saban’s knees were next to collide with the green as his hands unmade the knot which bound the fabric together and let the contents of his bag spill before him. The moon shone its light upon the clearing and it was in the calming penumbra that he made the inventory of his belongings:

A bruised apple which had begun to lose its color;
a hunting knife – long and curved with a serrated false-edge to cut through bones;
a Talis deck. His eyes lingered intensely upon the small ornate box that contained it, but soon shifted toward the next item as though resisting temptation;
a pair of trousers which consisted of his only change of clothes;
and finally a small disk of silver, barely the size of a coin.

Saban took ahold of the coin, lifting it to catch the moon’s reflection upon its smooth surface as he kicked up the apple with his callous toes and caught it with his free hand. Taking a bite out of his meal, his eyes drifted upward, and with a content and deep breath, he prayed, “Thank You for the roof over my head, and the bed you’ve made for me in this field. There’s food in my belly and shoes on my feet – You gave me your stars, my Lady, and…” His voice caught in his throat but the knot broke beneath the weight of his heart, “and a grand family – even if they are not here with me – I thank You for all your blessings on me.”

The Gur’s bare feet shifted in the grass and he gathered his meager belongings before lying down on the ground, clutching the sack to his chest in the fetal position with a hand firmly wound around the knife. Only a fool would think to rest in such a vulnerable position, but his trust in the stars covered him as though a blanket made of steel. And beneath it, he felt safe.

“Five Miles,” he whispered in a sing-song mantra that would worm itself into his mind and infect the dreams he would have that night.


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