WaylandSmith changes topic to: Remnant of Gor: RP Required - a ruined inn on the edge of the Karian marshes. A collapsed bridge is near by that once crossed a larger river - to the east are the marshes now flooded with brackish sea water and to the east is a desolate but dryer highland.
[09:41p] Topic is: Remnant of Gor: RP Required - a ruined inn on the edge of the Karian marshes. A collapsed bridge is near by that once crossed a larger river - to the east are the marshes now flooded with brackish sea water and to the east is a desolate but dryer highland.
WaylandSmith the loneliness of his surroundings did not much bother the smith, he was used to travelling alone with only the swaying of Big Jim's behind for entertainment. Nevertheless there was a continued feeling of unsease that dampened his usually placid mindset. In plain words - the place gave him the creeps - and only the vague expectation that the person he sought might make a way out of the flooded marshes was keeping him here.
[09:50p]
WaylandSmith Wayland shook his head as if this would shake the depression that assailed him. It did not.
[09:51p]
WaylandSmith exhaling quietly he decided to wait a further day and if noone presented themselves he would make his way to Port Kar. That place was ever the crossroads of new beginnings and adventures and despite its sordid and evil reputation he did not find it repulsive as many did.
[09:57p]
WaylandSmith Casting yet another furtive look around the skies and the horizons, he spied nothing of interest. Waiting was not something he did easily, preferring to be on the move even if it meant foregoing the comfort of warm furs and the shelter of a roof. Not that there was a roof at the moment of course. Looking around he saw that amongst the rubble there might yet be something of value to extract and so he set about to parse the ruins of the inn for anything useful. The job kept his uneasy mind occupied...
[10:01p]
WaylandSmith The inn had been a modest building by all accounts, but shifting through the wreckage took the rest of the day and the full day thereafter. The weather remained unchanged - a dull sun that exuded no warmth and cast a sickly light over the landscape. The search for items by the smith yielded a few things - a few pounds of dry food that might come in useful, a little metal from pots and pans that would serve him as he travelled and other items of that whilst not valuable were too good to let go to waste.
[10:20p]
WaylandSmith It was a paltry return for his effort except for two things. His spirits were lifted when he managed to recover the little kajira knife, it was unsurprisingly found under the burnt cinders of basket once full of turnips that were now beyond saving. The other thing was more puzzling - it was one of the cards of the man in black who had sat in the inn - the card was charred on one corner but otherwise intact.
[10:25p]
WaylandSmith The card depicted a man slain by ten swords piercing his back, his back covered with a red mantle that bore an uncanny resemblance to the blood flowing from his multiple wounds and draining to all sides of his corpse. In the background a river snaked its way around a meander towards the edge of the card and the skies were eerily similar to the ones he could see right at that moment. Placing the card thoughtfully against his lips he looked skyward as if the heavens would give an answer,
[10:28p]
WaylandSmith the heavens however remained mute neither caring nor even aware of the puzzlement in the smith's mind. All he had to rely upon was his own strength, wit and wisdom and these were as unforthcoming as an answer from the heavens at this time. Shrugging he slipped the card into his back pocket vowing to interpellate the next black caste he crossed to obtain an explanation.
[10:48p]
WaylandSmith the next day with no sign of the person he awaited the smith loaded his damaged wagon with the meagre sum total of the items he had picked from the wreckage. Big Jim, placid as ever, let himself be placed so he would draw the cart and without further ado the smith set off on a somewhat roundabout road towards Port Kar. Following the river he sought a decent ford to cross the swollen water, this alone took most of the day and took him many leagues in away from Port Kar rather than toward it.
[10:54p]
WaylandSmith Normally such a long detour might have been a cause for concern, the area of the Karian marshes and the banks of the Vosk and its many tributaries were rife with banditry, amazons and other mischief - for a reason the smith could not pin point he felt certain the land was devoid of humans. That only left animals or possibly otherwordly incursions - these he would deal with at leisure or fall in the attempt. It was human deceit that the smith loathed most, much more than the animal cunning of a sleen.
[10:56p]
WaylandSmith Disgusted the smith spat a glob of bile towards the meandering river and continued on his way. The gentle rocking motion of the cart mirrored in the swaying of the bosk's rear, it exerted a hypnotic calm on him. This is the life he was used to, travelling alone through desolate lands in search of...
