27th of Othen, 2734
The cell was warm. Too warm. I ended up using my robes for a sort of bed covering to ease the unrelenting nature of the stone bed. Taking view of my room I found that it was ridiculously sterile. All the corners had been maintained in a startlingly elegant way. Not a speck of grime around the hole, on the bed... even the door was clean. Not gleaming, but clean, as if it had been washed thoroughly. It was, to be honest, the strangest idea of a cell I have ever seen. For being so unrelenting, it was well kept. And yet... it was hot...
My throat dried out...
It was not long before I recognized the very early signs of quick dehydration. I began to feel a little dizzy, and ended up laying on my back on the floor. It had been hours of silence before I finally heard what I imagined to be footsteps. I had not the will or energy to get to the door and peer out. In fact I found myself completely gripped with fear. The steps were heave and large, but not like those of the one who brought me here. His were large for sure, but almost soft...
The steps stopped in front of my cell. I could feel myself stop breathing.
I heard the flick of a switch, and my cell suddenly received a gust of cool air from the bars in the door. I took a deep breath, unable to keep myself from sucking in the sweet life. This of course made me quite more dizzy for some time, but I came about. When I raised my head up off the floor to look at the door I found it open, and a dawrven woman standing inside it. She looked like a granite block, aside from the quirky smile on her face. Her long blond hair was braided down to her waist, clasped with a metal circlet and hung over her right shoulder. For being a dwarf she had a soft face, and eyes that beckoned speech (something I would not oblige). Her clothed were made out of hard leather, a deep brown color, that made her seem a warrior type, though something suggested to me that this was the dwarven version of "soft". In her hands were two items. A massive cylinder twice the size of my head, and a bowl with a gigantic loaf of bread in it. She spoke to me with what was the most gentile voice I have ever heard.
"Can't take the heat?"
She walked over to me and placed the bowl and cylinder on my "bed" and put her hands on her hips. She raised an eyebrow,
"You just gonna lay there?" I did not move and she shrugged. "This food's for you. I'll come back for the dishes later." She approached the door, "Seriously, it's your mind playing tricks with you. You've only been here an hour." She tapped her temple, "Better get that under control."
She left.
An HOUR? Had it really been so? I could not imagine the damage that much more time in solitude would do to me... but then again, she had been perfectly decent to me. I sat up and shook my head... was I crazy? Of course it had only been an hour. I had done nothing but think the entire time. When one does not act, it can make time seem long. And all at once I felt like a fool. With new resolve, I made my way to the door and looked through the spaces for the four bars. I had a magnificent view of a hallway... a boring hallway. Stone walls as far as I could see. I did see a couple slats across the hall from my cell and realized that the air was pouring in from there. I breathed in it's vigor.Turning around I looked at the food with great anticipation. The cylinder contained water which was clear and beautiful. It looked fantastic. The bread was soft and fluffy, easily torn and smelled sweet, a contrast from the sterile room. I ate. It was as good as it looked and more. And soon, I had consumed the greater portion of both.
I woke up.
I sat up surprised to find myself incredibly well rested. I looked down at the stone below me, yes, it was still a stone. But... when had I fallen asleep.
I heard a sound, like water pouring over a mountainside, but very quiet. Soon, the slat in my cell door, which was about a foot off of the ground slowly opened and a blue gel like substance started to come in. I jumped up on the bed, afraid of what it might be. It ended up being about a foot square in size with little lightning like light flashes coming from within it. Swishing around the room I recognized it as the origin of the waterfall sound. The gel worked it's way around the room, into all the corners, over the bed, up the walls, and down the hole. Finally, it came to the bed, and I could tell that it was picking up debris as it went. I grabbed my robe and the brad and jumped off the bed. The floor was a little tingly from the gel. The entity crawled over the bed and cleaned it thoroughly ignoring the cylinder that still remained on the bed. it then crawled to the door and exited through the slat it had entered through.
I sat and marveled for a while.
The gel has visited me twice since then, and I had counted my days based upon it. I have not seen the woman again. Food and water seem to come to me in my sleep.
Aside from these things, it has been completely and utterly uneventful. So much for beginning my study right away. Three days of nothingness? For those of you who are interested, I did try to speak to the gel today... it did not respond... imagine that. It was not until a few moment ago that I heard the door open, and the Emissarian rolled in. I scooped it up, so afraid that it might roll down the hole that I had to remind myself to breath. And now I am here with you again. with some contact to the outside.
I cannot think of what else to say to you. I have been speechless for three days... funny that I have nothing to say now...
Showing posts with label My Journal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label My Journal. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Monday, November 21, 2011
The Dwarven City (Pt. 1 - Darkness)
Breathe... breathe... just keep breathing...
The Emissarion is finally back in my hands... and I can update you who desire the unveiling of his story as much as I do... It is a dull and dreary account of fear and primitive views. Truly, though invited here, I am a prisoner.
27th of Othen, 2734
The doors had opened, the stench of the underground wafting into my face. A kind of dull waste and burnt smell. Immediately thoughts of the miners and calloused workers flooded my mind. I could see the blacksmiths hammering on their anvils, the miners smashing the rock (not that I could actually see this, but the smell was so telling...). Their lights were out... no flames burned behind the doors. I stared into a kind of blackness that can only be achieved by magic... who was in front of me? I could not know. The doors swung open not much more than 5 feet wide, thought they are a full 70 feet in breadth. It beckoned me forward.
I remained silent, letting the smell and the blackness to process in my mind. I am, after all, a thinker. Knowing that my nose and eyes had done all they could do, I opened my ears. Straining to hear anything in the deep darkness of the Dwarven City's caverns. And at once it hit me... villages around these areas speak of the massive amounts of notice they can hear from the city, even through the mountain. What could cause this endless and devouring silence before me? Sure, I could hear nothing... but breathing.
Ragged, rough, angry breathing. The emissions of sound were steady, much like a bull waiting to charge. It could not have been one dwarf, it was much to loud... were they breathing as one? At the same moment exhaling all their guile towards me? It must have been a full minute before I counted 5 inhales... that sickening slow pace... that deep dark presence. My other senses reacted, bringing a vomiting taste to my mouth and a shiver across my shoulders. Denying myself, I attempted to speak...
"Greetings..." I spoke with the greatest desire to please... The response was deep, brooding, and singular.
"Enter."
There were no options at this point. walk away, or enter into the city. That city, which held the secrets. Secretes to the dwarves, the ancient times.. and him.
I entered the darkness.
Immediately as I was cast in shadow, I felt a great paw at my throat. Massive hands, the size of my head, and wrapped all the way around my throat. A single thumbnail pressed into the bottom of my jaw, beckoning me not to cry out. As I groped about with my hands, I grabbed onto the arm that had me bound and found a blanket of fur covering it. I could not even reach the skin of whatever had me... It's arms were the size of my body, I was like trying to grapple with a tree. I could not struggle for long, and finally went slack. My breathing, though impaired, was consistent and I waited to see what I might see, for darkness engulfed us completely. Slowly, with horror, I watches as the doors behind me, which so blatantly defied the light to intrude, closed.
The tree-sized being stripped me of my things. Including the Emissarion. I felt myself lift off of the ground and start moving. He had a hand gripping me around the waist, and one still around my neck. It was the most uncomfortable ride I have ever experienced.
Five minutes, and we arrived where it was that we were. I felt myself flung onto a stone floor. My knees made horrid contact with the floor. I remember thinking that if this kind of event kept up, there would be nothing left of my legs but a dissolving hope. The voice instructed me once more, this time, much more booming and profusely terrifying,
"We will examine the orb first. Do not speak."
With that damning command, the presence left me, and I heard a loud creak before the slamming of a metal door. Behind me, a torch lit of it's own volition. And the small six by six foot cell was revealed to me. A stone for sleeping on, a hole for... bodily functions, and a steel door with a small slat in it were all there was. I lay on the floor, rubbing my knees and not daring to speak.
The Emissarion is finally back in my hands... and I can update you who desire the unveiling of his story as much as I do... It is a dull and dreary account of fear and primitive views. Truly, though invited here, I am a prisoner.
27th of Othen, 2734
The doors had opened, the stench of the underground wafting into my face. A kind of dull waste and burnt smell. Immediately thoughts of the miners and calloused workers flooded my mind. I could see the blacksmiths hammering on their anvils, the miners smashing the rock (not that I could actually see this, but the smell was so telling...). Their lights were out... no flames burned behind the doors. I stared into a kind of blackness that can only be achieved by magic... who was in front of me? I could not know. The doors swung open not much more than 5 feet wide, thought they are a full 70 feet in breadth. It beckoned me forward.
I remained silent, letting the smell and the blackness to process in my mind. I am, after all, a thinker. Knowing that my nose and eyes had done all they could do, I opened my ears. Straining to hear anything in the deep darkness of the Dwarven City's caverns. And at once it hit me... villages around these areas speak of the massive amounts of notice they can hear from the city, even through the mountain. What could cause this endless and devouring silence before me? Sure, I could hear nothing... but breathing.
Ragged, rough, angry breathing. The emissions of sound were steady, much like a bull waiting to charge. It could not have been one dwarf, it was much to loud... were they breathing as one? At the same moment exhaling all their guile towards me? It must have been a full minute before I counted 5 inhales... that sickening slow pace... that deep dark presence. My other senses reacted, bringing a vomiting taste to my mouth and a shiver across my shoulders. Denying myself, I attempted to speak...
"Greetings..." I spoke with the greatest desire to please... The response was deep, brooding, and singular.
"Enter."
There were no options at this point. walk away, or enter into the city. That city, which held the secrets. Secretes to the dwarves, the ancient times.. and him.
I entered the darkness.
Immediately as I was cast in shadow, I felt a great paw at my throat. Massive hands, the size of my head, and wrapped all the way around my throat. A single thumbnail pressed into the bottom of my jaw, beckoning me not to cry out. As I groped about with my hands, I grabbed onto the arm that had me bound and found a blanket of fur covering it. I could not even reach the skin of whatever had me... It's arms were the size of my body, I was like trying to grapple with a tree. I could not struggle for long, and finally went slack. My breathing, though impaired, was consistent and I waited to see what I might see, for darkness engulfed us completely. Slowly, with horror, I watches as the doors behind me, which so blatantly defied the light to intrude, closed.
The tree-sized being stripped me of my things. Including the Emissarion. I felt myself lift off of the ground and start moving. He had a hand gripping me around the waist, and one still around my neck. It was the most uncomfortable ride I have ever experienced.
Five minutes, and we arrived where it was that we were. I felt myself flung onto a stone floor. My knees made horrid contact with the floor. I remember thinking that if this kind of event kept up, there would be nothing left of my legs but a dissolving hope. The voice instructed me once more, this time, much more booming and profusely terrifying,
"We will examine the orb first. Do not speak."
With that damning command, the presence left me, and I heard a loud creak before the slamming of a metal door. Behind me, a torch lit of it's own volition. And the small six by six foot cell was revealed to me. A stone for sleeping on, a hole for... bodily functions, and a steel door with a small slat in it were all there was. I lay on the floor, rubbing my knees and not daring to speak.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Imposing
24th of Othen, 2734
I stand before the walls of the Dwarven City, sinking ever smaller into the sand and rock beneath my feet. The walls of the City extend both high above my head and down into the depths of the earth. The doors, made out of a great red wood that gleams a hint of gold from it's shimmer, cascade down over the side of the walls like a mighty waterfall. It's true beauty could only be admired from here, the bottom, where the intricate carvings of the Orcs smashing against the rocks of the canyon are readily at hand. No mortal hand could open the doors from here, as they are only opened from the inside. Even here the history of the Dwarves is played out. I see the great battle of Carathos, when the goblin hordes swept through this land and broke like ale against a counter top. A useless display of the more primitive and stupid whiles of demonic foes. The walls themselves are made of a rather valuable and unique metal forged from the minerals found only in the Togric Canyon and below. I believe that it is called Punnok, which translates to "silver steel". It would make sense, since the walls are hard like steel, yet shine like silver.
I feel very small here. Even now I can feel the eyes of the Dwarven people gazing down at me from their chambers on the top of the wall. I can see three towers. One to the left, right, and above the entrance. Horns have been blowing now for a couple of minutes, warning my of their knowledge of my presence, and pronouncing me like I am a threat. It is a most stunning, overpowering, and imposing presence to give as a first impression. I rather like it.
Yet it turns me to the other meaning of the word. I wish not to be am imposition on the people here. If I invoke a response of anger, it could very well hurt the way Dwarves view the entire outer world. I would not want to break the delicate balence that we have so far achieved with this current leadership. It is a valuable ally we have in the Dwarves. Any common enemy would surely fall to the might of the Togric Warriors. (Togric translating to Fierce in out tongue.) Only once have I seen a Togric Warrior. When the Warrior dies the body is carried the entire length of the canyon by the stone carvers of the Dwarven City. It's quite a massive group. The other Warriors stand in the shadow of the door the entire time that the march goes on, nearly two weeks. No food, no rest. Always in the shadow to give the fallen honor. It's beautiful, solemn, and painful think to view. By the time the body has returned home, it is rotted away to almost nothing. The bones are placed in a stone box and sealed away in a family crypt. Such is their way, and I must say, it does the fallen justice.
And now I must impose upon those people. I wonder only if my own fortitude can even hope to match their own. Do I have a stomach for the underground? Is it a trap? Futile thoughts now... the doors are opening...
I stand before the walls of the Dwarven City, sinking ever smaller into the sand and rock beneath my feet. The walls of the City extend both high above my head and down into the depths of the earth. The doors, made out of a great red wood that gleams a hint of gold from it's shimmer, cascade down over the side of the walls like a mighty waterfall. It's true beauty could only be admired from here, the bottom, where the intricate carvings of the Orcs smashing against the rocks of the canyon are readily at hand. No mortal hand could open the doors from here, as they are only opened from the inside. Even here the history of the Dwarves is played out. I see the great battle of Carathos, when the goblin hordes swept through this land and broke like ale against a counter top. A useless display of the more primitive and stupid whiles of demonic foes. The walls themselves are made of a rather valuable and unique metal forged from the minerals found only in the Togric Canyon and below. I believe that it is called Punnok, which translates to "silver steel". It would make sense, since the walls are hard like steel, yet shine like silver.
I feel very small here. Even now I can feel the eyes of the Dwarven people gazing down at me from their chambers on the top of the wall. I can see three towers. One to the left, right, and above the entrance. Horns have been blowing now for a couple of minutes, warning my of their knowledge of my presence, and pronouncing me like I am a threat. It is a most stunning, overpowering, and imposing presence to give as a first impression. I rather like it.
Yet it turns me to the other meaning of the word. I wish not to be am imposition on the people here. If I invoke a response of anger, it could very well hurt the way Dwarves view the entire outer world. I would not want to break the delicate balence that we have so far achieved with this current leadership. It is a valuable ally we have in the Dwarves. Any common enemy would surely fall to the might of the Togric Warriors. (Togric translating to Fierce in out tongue.) Only once have I seen a Togric Warrior. When the Warrior dies the body is carried the entire length of the canyon by the stone carvers of the Dwarven City. It's quite a massive group. The other Warriors stand in the shadow of the door the entire time that the march goes on, nearly two weeks. No food, no rest. Always in the shadow to give the fallen honor. It's beautiful, solemn, and painful think to view. By the time the body has returned home, it is rotted away to almost nothing. The bones are placed in a stone box and sealed away in a family crypt. Such is their way, and I must say, it does the fallen justice.
And now I must impose upon those people. I wonder only if my own fortitude can even hope to match their own. Do I have a stomach for the underground? Is it a trap? Futile thoughts now... the doors are opening...
Monday, September 19, 2011
Dwarves
23rd of Othen, 2734
Dwarves hate people. And hate may be too kind a word. They are completely uninterested in the things of men, and generally, the rest of the world. I have heard that they have a deep loathing for the realms above their own. As hostile as they are diggers, the Dwarves had found excuse upon excuse to refuse passage into their dominion. We all will remember King Rabish who was fool enough to attack the Dwarven city more than an age ago. If not for their hatred of the sunny sky, we would all live in a Dwarven world now... And Dwarves are very good at holding a grudge. And yet...
I received a letter from my Lanlord Goshen. It says that I am allowed to enter into the realm of the deep to seek out guidance in the library. It's... astonishing. It sounds inviting... almost urgent for me to come. What could have possessed the Dwarves to think this way...
I will set off. I do not want to delay my time there. Yet a hint of a warning seems to come to me. I must be cautious. Are they planning on making an example of me? I must chance it. Anyway that I can get another change at seeing him...
Dwarves hate people. And hate may be too kind a word. They are completely uninterested in the things of men, and generally, the rest of the world. I have heard that they have a deep loathing for the realms above their own. As hostile as they are diggers, the Dwarves had found excuse upon excuse to refuse passage into their dominion. We all will remember King Rabish who was fool enough to attack the Dwarven city more than an age ago. If not for their hatred of the sunny sky, we would all live in a Dwarven world now... And Dwarves are very good at holding a grudge. And yet...
I received a letter from my Lanlord Goshen. It says that I am allowed to enter into the realm of the deep to seek out guidance in the library. It's... astonishing. It sounds inviting... almost urgent for me to come. What could have possessed the Dwarves to think this way...
I will set off. I do not want to delay my time there. Yet a hint of a warning seems to come to me. I must be cautious. Are they planning on making an example of me? I must chance it. Anyway that I can get another change at seeing him...
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Clean and Leave
Though I truly do not have a home in this place, the initial flock of Soriel interested parties lent me a room that I have come to call home for this short while. In the time I have been gone, all who originally identified his presence have left. The paladins, clerics... everyone. It seems as though they do not hold as much interest in the matter as I do... though they should. Behind they leave only the things that I have acquired... which is not much.
I have arrived home. And the view both shocks me... and is completely unsurprising. The whole stead is trashed. I look even now on the papers scattered on the floor. My table is broken, which leads me to wonder what could have made them think that what was in/on/magically casted on it that would require such treatment. The place is still surprisingly empty. The beds that held my fellow travelers are untouched, but stripped of their coverings. The floor has a few planks pulled up, undoubtedly where they were searching for hidden items in the foot wide space under the room. This is a ghastly reminder of my unwelcome nature now.
Though there is a mess, there does not seem to be anything missing.
I will gather my things and move on. Being here alone has chilled me to the bone, and I do not wish to remain. I have found a note on the table expressing that my mail was given to my renter, I will stop there before I depart.
I have arrived home. And the view both shocks me... and is completely unsurprising. The whole stead is trashed. I look even now on the papers scattered on the floor. My table is broken, which leads me to wonder what could have made them think that what was in/on/magically casted on it that would require such treatment. The place is still surprisingly empty. The beds that held my fellow travelers are untouched, but stripped of their coverings. The floor has a few planks pulled up, undoubtedly where they were searching for hidden items in the foot wide space under the room. This is a ghastly reminder of my unwelcome nature now.
Though there is a mess, there does not seem to be anything missing.
I will gather my things and move on. Being here alone has chilled me to the bone, and I do not wish to remain. I have found a note on the table expressing that my mail was given to my renter, I will stop there before I depart.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Free
22nd
of Othen 2734
Finally, a breath
of fresh air. I look out over the forest once more. Strange to me, seeing this
world now, compared to when I first looked at Adderwain. Everything seems less
certain now. Like this bubble of a town cannot possibly exist outside of the
influence of the greater scheme. Standing here, where I know he walked so close
makes me marvel at the ignorance it would take to ignore his presence.
They are not
convinced. Though I put on a good show for all who cared to take it in, I am
convinced that the head spellcaster neither believes that I am cured nor wishes
to see me leave his establishment. Thankfully, the better and more sane will of
the people has released me from his care. And thus, I stand now outside his
door. I can still feel the judgmental stares on my back as I make my way back
from the healers. There are not many people in the streets today, or maybe they
just knew when I was being released. No matter. I will make my way back to the
hotel to gather my belongings. Whether I head to the dwarven city or to the
great libraries it matters not, I must pack.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Wasted Time
20th
of Othen 1734
Staring. I’ve
been lying on my back for almost three days now. Though no possession has been
driven from my body, the locals keep trying to heal me. Apparently I will not
leave until they are satisfied. They search for an answer though there is none
to give. And still I must wait. Their fool-hardy attempts to heal me have taken
some small toll on my body. The scars are beginning to heal from the wounds I
sustained in the forest, though I have not been able to acquire any salve to
ease my pain. My legs feel as though they have some strength again, a pleasure
which I had not endured two days prior. At my attempts to stand I am forcibly laid
back down by two fiendish characters known as Harborrow and Rickta . Brutish creatures,
they watch over my bed day and night and I question whether they even sleep.
My mind
plays games with me in this time, trying to convince me that it was all a fool’s
errand, that I have not been chasing a reality but rather a slim fantasy. The psychological
war I have been waging has not been fought in vain however as I remain convicted
of the validity of discovering who this man is. One who’s sight can chill the
bone.
And so I wait, I have been trying to discern
whether or not they will let me go of their own volition. Though it seems improbable
that they will believe the possession has left me completely. Perhaps my amicable
disposition will implore them to release me. I can only hope that it does not
lead them in the other direction. I am not a fan of burning to death.
Though the
last few days have accounted of no knowledge to speak of, I have had some success
even lying here. I managed to convince the head spellcaster to let me write a
letter. After placing an enchanter’s block on the paper, he bayed me write. I
wrote a letter to the dwarven city asking permission to enter their libraries and
after doing so sent it out with a messenger as quickly as possible. I do not
expect a quick response as the dwarves are sluggish with their public relations.
I hope to appeal to their sense of history and if nothing else to their
curiosity about the existence and ramifications of Soriel Daw.
No matter
what the case, I refuse to stay here much longer. Up to this point it has been beneficial
to my own body. But I will not remain when so much is yet to be discovered in
my quest. If I cannot convince them in some manner or another that I am of my
own mind, then I will forcibly remove myself with what small magic I posses.
Surely, if I set the place on fire, they will have to remove me from my
quarters.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Healing...
17th of Othen, 2734.
I returned to town not an hour ago and already I notice the difference in people's glances. Immediatly they had me taken to the healers for an examination, and now I lay on a bed waiting for them to "drive the curse from my body". Appearently, they deduce that wether I was running into the woods of my own volition or ifI was truly chasing Soriel Daw, I am possessed either way. Whatever their beleifs truly be I do not worry, I knwo of the spell that they intend to cast, and it is harmless.
I have almost entirely worn out my welcome here anyway. I have decided to attempt to enter into the dwarven city. They may not be the most welcoming, but they keep records efficiently, and carve them into stone. Maybe I can find some reference to Soriel in their histories.
After that, north, to any of the major cities. Maybe I will stop by Copperstone on the way, see if their small library has anything. They may have heard news about the witch killing. I guess now is as good a time as any to follow the leads of the Emissarian.
I returned to town not an hour ago and already I notice the difference in people's glances. Immediatly they had me taken to the healers for an examination, and now I lay on a bed waiting for them to "drive the curse from my body". Appearently, they deduce that wether I was running into the woods of my own volition or ifI was truly chasing Soriel Daw, I am possessed either way. Whatever their beleifs truly be I do not worry, I knwo of the spell that they intend to cast, and it is harmless.
I have almost entirely worn out my welcome here anyway. I have decided to attempt to enter into the dwarven city. They may not be the most welcoming, but they keep records efficiently, and carve them into stone. Maybe I can find some reference to Soriel in their histories.
After that, north, to any of the major cities. Maybe I will stop by Copperstone on the way, see if their small library has anything. They may have heard news about the witch killing. I guess now is as good a time as any to follow the leads of the Emissarian.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
The grave chase.
16th of Othen, 2734.
Finally, my hands have stopped quivering enough to pen the events of last night. Still to this moment, shock and horror grip my chest, as I undoubtedly try to convince myself both that it did, and did not happen. Such is the effect of Soriel Daw on me... inner conflict.
I remember sitting in the glade. Pondering him, wondering if he had really been there. The rustling that I had assumed was children, apparently was not. This was not given me by evidence however... I just... felt it. While sitting in that warm sun, with peace and tranquility flooding my mind, I suddenly felt a hot coal on my back. A searing shock crawled up my body and sent me to panic. I whipped around. Nothing. Nothing but shaking branches from where he had once stood. I remember pausing, gasping, and wishing my body to move. To give chase, but my knees were locked, and it took more than a gargantuan strain to pry myself away from the earth and set off in the direction of the spy. At first, I stumbled a little, grasping at branches and trucks to stabilize myself. But as the realization set in, I sprinted. It was more of a charge than a run of swiftness. I barreled head first into the thick brush that gathers in that area of the forest. I could still hear him...
He weaved constantly. Trying to break of my trail. I would come around a corner, and hear his sound behind me. Though terrifying I continued towards the runner, desiring nothing more than for him to get away and for me to catch him at the same time. I cannot tell you how long or how far I ran. It was a staggering distance. My legs were furious with me. Burning like I have never known. I cannot imagine that I ran any less than 35 miles from the glade straight into the forest. After all, I now sit on the edge of the Togric Canyon. From here I can almost see the stone door of the dwarven city... I have never done anything so intense in all my days...
In the end, I broke out of the forest upon the canyon. His sound was gone to the winds and I collapsed to the ground wretching what was left of my midday meal over the cliff side. I cannot remember a pain as great as my body's groaning and pleading. It is strange how event like these can so cloud your vision, that you feel the need to do ANYTHING to end the pain... I considered even throwing myself from the ledge. And yet, I managed to open my journal and pen a few words. A few words that, I might add, took me almost an hour to write. By this time my legs had finished bruising and I tended to myself as well as possible. At least the rock was cool to the touch. I fell asleep where I lay, not daring to move anything I didn't have to. This morning, my legs would not move, and I was gripped with an insatiable thirst. having very few senses to my disposal, I listened hard to the distance. There is was, the cool rush of a waterfall.
Now that I think of it, my ears have played a very significant role in this last day...
I hurried in the direction of the water, pulling myself mostly by my arms to a small brook that splashed down into a greater waterfall in a sort of "Y" shape. I do not know what these twin falls are called, but I named them Orlasia, or in case you do not know Elvish, "Charity Given Me." I have never tasted anything so utterly divine in all my time. And not only because I was ravaged with thirst, but also because it was the clearest, coolest, most pure water I had ever tasted. The dwarves do not know what they are missing just outside their doors.
It is here that I sit. Next to a fall, my feet dangling over the cliff, thinking about what he might have been doing. I cannot imagine the thoughts he thought. Did he wonder why I was there? Did he think I was there for him? did he know I am collecting information? All I know is that I was close, ever so close at catching a glimpse of the greatest mystery this world has ever known. It slipped through my fingers, and yet I cannot bring myself to feel anger at my inability to catch him. The fact is... I was close. And that itself is enough to make me smile... and fear.
The event did not come without a price. Even now I nurse the scratches that tore into my skin from low hanging branches. I must have run into some poisonous reeds, for my left side is breaking out in rash. On top of all this, I have not eaten in two days, and already it is bearing down on the evening. I will stay here another day, thought my heart tells me that I must return to the village. It reminds me every few seconds that he could be watching again.
But this is my reality. I must live it, for as long as it allows me to live.
Finally, my hands have stopped quivering enough to pen the events of last night. Still to this moment, shock and horror grip my chest, as I undoubtedly try to convince myself both that it did, and did not happen. Such is the effect of Soriel Daw on me... inner conflict.
I remember sitting in the glade. Pondering him, wondering if he had really been there. The rustling that I had assumed was children, apparently was not. This was not given me by evidence however... I just... felt it. While sitting in that warm sun, with peace and tranquility flooding my mind, I suddenly felt a hot coal on my back. A searing shock crawled up my body and sent me to panic. I whipped around. Nothing. Nothing but shaking branches from where he had once stood. I remember pausing, gasping, and wishing my body to move. To give chase, but my knees were locked, and it took more than a gargantuan strain to pry myself away from the earth and set off in the direction of the spy. At first, I stumbled a little, grasping at branches and trucks to stabilize myself. But as the realization set in, I sprinted. It was more of a charge than a run of swiftness. I barreled head first into the thick brush that gathers in that area of the forest. I could still hear him...
He weaved constantly. Trying to break of my trail. I would come around a corner, and hear his sound behind me. Though terrifying I continued towards the runner, desiring nothing more than for him to get away and for me to catch him at the same time. I cannot tell you how long or how far I ran. It was a staggering distance. My legs were furious with me. Burning like I have never known. I cannot imagine that I ran any less than 35 miles from the glade straight into the forest. After all, I now sit on the edge of the Togric Canyon. From here I can almost see the stone door of the dwarven city... I have never done anything so intense in all my days...
In the end, I broke out of the forest upon the canyon. His sound was gone to the winds and I collapsed to the ground wretching what was left of my midday meal over the cliff side. I cannot remember a pain as great as my body's groaning and pleading. It is strange how event like these can so cloud your vision, that you feel the need to do ANYTHING to end the pain... I considered even throwing myself from the ledge. And yet, I managed to open my journal and pen a few words. A few words that, I might add, took me almost an hour to write. By this time my legs had finished bruising and I tended to myself as well as possible. At least the rock was cool to the touch. I fell asleep where I lay, not daring to move anything I didn't have to. This morning, my legs would not move, and I was gripped with an insatiable thirst. having very few senses to my disposal, I listened hard to the distance. There is was, the cool rush of a waterfall.
Now that I think of it, my ears have played a very significant role in this last day...
I hurried in the direction of the water, pulling myself mostly by my arms to a small brook that splashed down into a greater waterfall in a sort of "Y" shape. I do not know what these twin falls are called, but I named them Orlasia, or in case you do not know Elvish, "Charity Given Me." I have never tasted anything so utterly divine in all my time. And not only because I was ravaged with thirst, but also because it was the clearest, coolest, most pure water I had ever tasted. The dwarves do not know what they are missing just outside their doors.
It is here that I sit. Next to a fall, my feet dangling over the cliff, thinking about what he might have been doing. I cannot imagine the thoughts he thought. Did he wonder why I was there? Did he think I was there for him? did he know I am collecting information? All I know is that I was close, ever so close at catching a glimpse of the greatest mystery this world has ever known. It slipped through my fingers, and yet I cannot bring myself to feel anger at my inability to catch him. The fact is... I was close. And that itself is enough to make me smile... and fear.
The event did not come without a price. Even now I nurse the scratches that tore into my skin from low hanging branches. I must have run into some poisonous reeds, for my left side is breaking out in rash. On top of all this, I have not eaten in two days, and already it is bearing down on the evening. I will stay here another day, thought my heart tells me that I must return to the village. It reminds me every few seconds that he could be watching again.
But this is my reality. I must live it, for as long as it allows me to live.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
It was not children...
15th of Othen 2734
I write this, sitting on the edge of a cliff. Shivering, chilled, I send you this message to remind myself of why I am here. While sitting in the glade the gaze that was once a presence on my back, became a boaring entity desiring to devour me... All at once I got the sick chilling feeling that it was him watching me! I spun around, and the figure dashed into the trees. I pursued... and ended up here. All will be explained in the morrow... for now, I must rest. I have run so far on legs that did not desire the pursuit.
Could it have been...?
I write this, sitting on the edge of a cliff. Shivering, chilled, I send you this message to remind myself of why I am here. While sitting in the glade the gaze that was once a presence on my back, became a boaring entity desiring to devour me... All at once I got the sick chilling feeling that it was him watching me! I spun around, and the figure dashed into the trees. I pursued... and ended up here. All will be explained in the morrow... for now, I must rest. I have run so far on legs that did not desire the pursuit.
Could it have been...?
Children...
15th of Othen, 2734
I spent much of today sitting and contemplating the words of Frinly from yesterday. The way he spoke to me was more than unsettling, but I need to be able to understand it. Anyway, it won't do for me to go randomly walking around asking people about Daw. Most likely it will just turn future information away from me. And so I contemplate.
At this very moment I sit in the clearing where he was just a few days ago. Smelling the air, looking at the grass. I find myself doing the most ridiculous things. Though I am no tracker, I have been staring at the grass looking for some sort of sign that activity happened here. I touched most of the clearing with my bare hands, to see if I could find remnants of the moat that surrounded the hut. Alas, it is in vain. I can find nothing that would implicate his existence at all. Oh well, I already have my proof. You cannot fake the true horror that was in Frinly's eyes. I suppose I should not find this exciting, that a young man just had the manhood scared from him... but I do...
Just to be NEAR Daw would be more excitement than I can bear...
I digress.
I understand, I think, why he picked this spot. It's quiet, motionless, calm, and insatiably beautiful. The way the sunlight rips through the top line of branches to eek through softly, it's quite elegant. Even if there are hunters all through this area... Though non have come by here since they heard of the sighting.
It does not keep children away though. For quite some time now they have been watching me. A few children from the town. Inquisitive lads. Every once and a while I will hear their whispers, their movement among the trees. I am trying to find a good time to turn to them, but whenever I do, they move away from my gaze. I must model their curiosity in my studies as I try to find him. They are persistent, and their gaze is so intent, I can almost feel the presence on my back. Ah! A cool breeze! For all this glade's wonder, the stillness does make it rather hot..
I spent much of today sitting and contemplating the words of Frinly from yesterday. The way he spoke to me was more than unsettling, but I need to be able to understand it. Anyway, it won't do for me to go randomly walking around asking people about Daw. Most likely it will just turn future information away from me. And so I contemplate.
At this very moment I sit in the clearing where he was just a few days ago. Smelling the air, looking at the grass. I find myself doing the most ridiculous things. Though I am no tracker, I have been staring at the grass looking for some sort of sign that activity happened here. I touched most of the clearing with my bare hands, to see if I could find remnants of the moat that surrounded the hut. Alas, it is in vain. I can find nothing that would implicate his existence at all. Oh well, I already have my proof. You cannot fake the true horror that was in Frinly's eyes. I suppose I should not find this exciting, that a young man just had the manhood scared from him... but I do...
Just to be NEAR Daw would be more excitement than I can bear...
I digress.
I understand, I think, why he picked this spot. It's quiet, motionless, calm, and insatiably beautiful. The way the sunlight rips through the top line of branches to eek through softly, it's quite elegant. Even if there are hunters all through this area... Though non have come by here since they heard of the sighting.
It does not keep children away though. For quite some time now they have been watching me. A few children from the town. Inquisitive lads. Every once and a while I will hear their whispers, their movement among the trees. I am trying to find a good time to turn to them, but whenever I do, they move away from my gaze. I must model their curiosity in my studies as I try to find him. They are persistent, and their gaze is so intent, I can almost feel the presence on my back. Ah! A cool breeze! For all this glade's wonder, the stillness does make it rather hot..
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