A ragged banner atop a small pile of rocks flutters softly in the breeze--an
ancient reminder of the many these plains have claimed. A man dressed in
the dark green of a Ranger's cloak crouches in the shadows beside it,
peering across the plains in front of him. Alone, with naught but the few
circling hawks and various traces of their almost invisible prey, he surveys
the land, sharp eyes missing nothing--not even the bare ghost of dust at
the bare edge of the horizon. Damn! I thought those damned robed
bastards said that they'd protected us from scrying...Lying little wax-
eaters...Ah well, can't be helped.As he turns back to go into the forest
bordering the plains, a woman seemingly separates herself from the tree.
"Damn, I hate it when you sneak up on me like that," he says.
"Well, perhaps you should've paid more attention to the forest," is her swift
response.
Continuing towards the forest, he smiles at her and says "isn't that what
you're here for?"
"What if I'd decided to sleep in, just a little? You know how hard it is to
sleep on the road..." She smirks right back at him, and walks beside him into
the forest. "I take it you saw it too?"
"Yeah."
"And what would you say they're going to do now, pup?"
He grimaces as she says this--he hates it when she calls him pup.
"My guess is that they'll abandon any pretense of stealth now and make a
stand in the plain...They won't want to fight us here in the forest, where we
have the advantage."
"Right....Anything else?"
"They'll also attempt to burn the edges of the forest, to make it difficult for
us..Possibly dispatch a few assassins for our mages, but our counter-
agents should be able to handle them." They are well into the forest now,
and the slight smell of a camp cookfire wends its way twixt the trees
towards them.
"There's my apprentice. I knew there was a reason I took you in when you
showed up at Enlistment. I'll tell the Head. You go get yourself some food,
you've earned it--this time at least." The last is said with a smirk as they
enter the camp proper and she splits off from him towards a large tent with
several pennants on its poles.
----Blood covers his hands, then his feet. Next he is swimming in it....He can
hear the woman scream "No, Davrin!" A voice he identifies as the Battle
Prince roars at him "Traitor, be cursed!" The sea of blood covers him, and
he is swept 'neath its sanguine swells, clawing and fighting for the
surface.----
Davrin awakes, slick with a sheen of sweat, with a knife in one hand, and
the other holding the cabin boy against a bulkhead by his throat. The boy's
eyes are wide with terror, and a strong odor of urine is present...He releases
his hold on the boy's throat and says "Get me a fucking drink, and tell that
damn cook to dredge up that slimy dog shit he called stew." The boy just
stares at him, while rubbing his throat. "NOW!!" Davrin roars, and the boy
scampers wildly away from him, as though he were daemon possessed. As
he watches the boy run wildly out the cabin door, he feels a familiar hand
on his shoulder..."Easy now, remember when you were that young? I'm sure
I would've damn near shit and pissed myself had that happened..." Davrin
laughs aloud, "I'm pretty fuckin' sure I would have as well...Ah, Saerwyn,
where have you been all these years?" Turning as he says this, Davrin
finds himself talking to empty air...Visions of corpse-covered, blood-soaked
plains come rushing back, and Davrin folds over, his stomach betraying
him. Fuck, I'm better than this. I told them it wasn't my fault! Gods above,
why must I still be made to suffer for this? His innards seemingly decide
against inverting themselves,and as the retching slows, he heads towards
the cabin door--hoping that fresh air might cure what time seems unable to.
You know, that scholar might be able to help me...As much as I hate those
candle-fuckers, I was once one of them...This one also seems nosier than
most, mayhap he's found some reference to what happened. Knowing
the boy is long gone, Davrin heads below decks, towards the sleeping
quarters of the Archivist...As he draws near, he pauses, trying to figure out
how to present the issue..What the hell are you doing? This isn't like
you...Just bang on the damn door! Wake the fucker up! No. Wake him
up in the middle of the night with a story about some fucked-up gore-filled
story that you don't even know how it happened? I'm crazy! Davrin
turns, about to go, until the door creaks, and the Archivist pokes his head
out..."Davrin? The hell? I thought you--Never mind, what do you want?"
"I need to talk to you about something..."
"Can't it wait until morning? I'm rather....occupied right now."
"....Fuck, I don't know...Why not..."
The door closes, and Davrin is left standing out in the hall...Turning, he
climbs the stairs towards the upper decks, brushing past the captain as he
does so.
---Leaving the Island---
We've gotten a new "friend" today...At least that's what the others call
him..I don't know if it's the skeletons he calls his "friends," or the aura of
overall ineptitude and naivete around him, but I'm not so ready to trust
him...They say necromancers are part of the culture around there, but as far
as I'm concerned, I'd rather their "culture" stayed in the damn ground.
--4 days from the Island--
Saw a flight of Sea Wyverns, after which the ship is named, today. Not
much else....
--5 days after the Island--
That fucking gnome draws better than he navigates...Why the hell is he the
head navigator?
--12 days after the island--
I love this gnome....First, he gets us lost, then gets us back on course...and
loses us AGAIN, along the course HE CHARTED...then, to top it all off, the
fucking bastard "navigates" us right into a damn storm, and Lavinia is
gone. Gone. What the hell? No fucking idea where.
--14 Days after the island--
2 Weeks since I stopped drinking...Hopefully I'll be alright this time.
--15 Days after the island--
It happened again. Same dream, same ending....Tried to talk to the Scholar,
but I...it pains me to write this...I didn't have the damned balls to do it....
--Morning of the 16 Day--
That fucking archivist, he told me he'd help and now he's gone and locked
himself in his cabin...Saying that all his instruments point to death, doom
and destruction....
--17th Day--
Well, we're fucked. The ship ran into this shit the sailors are calling
Sargasso...All I can tell is that anything and everything we do will be for
naught. The ship is doomed....Looks like that scholar might be right...This
might be the Journey's End...Also a name plucked form the sailor's
mouths...Those damn sailors..Always so literal.
--18th Day--
I was able to see a ship also mired in the Sargasso, yesterday, albiet in
slightly worse condition...Everything was fine, until those damned Vine
Assassins attacked. Haven't seen the likes of those since the Princes...I
knew there had to be something controlling them, and the book Babafemi
found confirmed it. We're heading to the center of this thing
tomorrow...They say history travels in circles..I hope it's not done revolving
yet.
--20th Day--
Fucking hells alive. I can't believe we all came that damn close to
dieing....Thankfully, we were able to make it, all except for Babafemi...Quick
was his wit, not so his feet. Nothing was left, nary a single personal
item...I'm going to try and arrange for a funeral ceremony later today...The
dead should always be remembered--no greater disrespect than an
ignominious death....
That's what we all strive for, isn't it? To be remembered?
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