Wednesday, November 30, 2005


Kithorn 23rd, 1378 of the Cauldron.
“Ravings, rants, slander or simply insanity… I’m used to such accusations, but this time they will see. This time they’ll have to believe me”
Sannyasi Oliver

At first sight this place could be called a “sleepy little rural town”, except for the well defended (if small) walls. Nesmé exemplifies the adaptability of the mob; no matter who is the latest conqueror, the perfumers sell their craft oblivious to anything but the worst excesses. No matter how brutal is the rule or how despairing tomorrow may seen, the mob’s daily life numbs everything into routine.

And right now things are no different: the constant troll attacks, the threat of the return of the barbarians, my presence among them; nothing seems to make them stop.

But to outsiders things are always under a spelling light and view. These days the elven folk wander the world with the same restless spirit that once took them always to Evermeet. So, I see, with the smallest of surprises, both Sun and Sylvan come out of nowhere to thread where I rule. They are proof that we live in strange times, when humanity stops to build and Fair, Stout, and even Forgotten, folks dare… like once humanity did.

But how can they stride forward when past fiercely entwines their every step, and conceal deadly thorns. I remember a time when the world was young and we heard thrilled faint whispers in every wood and hill, glimpses of beauty, and an overpowering flow of magic; all fresh, and new and fairy. But time have passed and the world is no longer young, we see, hear, and feel the same things, however they are now traces of ghosts and mistakes long gone and committed.

But I digress…

What matters is that I see disaster approaching darkly when youth’s recklessness and an old man’s stubbornness collide and meddle with things best left alone. I have met Vincard before; I trust his blind pride to lead him to his doom. And I know blood bonds of love all to well to trust them to send people blindly into peril. So a scattered young group enters deeply in the Troll Marshes in Vincard’s trail. Once there, they find a weakly guarded huge relic (or ghost) from the past… and rush in.

1 Comments:

Blogger TheNorthAdv said...

People talk to much about any bullshit nowadays. I wish, for once, they could stay quiet when a moment of great decision is at hand, and do whatever they have to do. I'm not going to censure anyone's will and I'll not allow any creature to do so with my own.

Woodwhisper of High Forest

2:04 PM  

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