[Game Thread] Solo RP: The Tale of Dr. Thorrel Warzick

[ThatMusicWriter]

I accepted the fur and nodded. "Well, with the way you seem to travel, make haste we will."

[TheDrakemund]

Vadimas leaned back against the trunk on the towering tree and closed his eyes. "All for the sake of his majesty... do wake me if anything happens..." And he drifted off, not another world said in the dark. Even in his sleep, he kept a hand protectively over his bag.

[ThatMusicWriter]

OOC You might want to check that character name... xD.

I looked curiously at the bag for a moment before turning my eyes towards the road, scanning for any trouble. I then searched for a large stick that might make a good improvised cudgel.
[Perception = 18]

[TheDrakemund]

OCC Fwah, that's embarrassing. Sorry, about that, and thanks for catching it. xD

Despite the darkening hour, you are able to make out a book that is peeking out of the bag, it's flap left slightly open. A dark set of stains are also present on it's cloth, formerly hidden by Vadimas' close keeping of it. As you begin watching the winterscape for anything amiss, a distant figure seems to weave in and out of existence, a sort of illusion of the night as some may call it. But still the eerie fleck of shadow stayed on the road, unmoving.

Soon enough, you were able to find a sturdy stick to serve such a purpose well enough, though your search had taken you a few feet away from your fireless camp and put it momentarily out of view.

A sort of hush fell over the forest, as you laid eyes upon your makeshift cudgel, smothering even the sounds one fails to notice--takes for granted. Even the horses were mute and still.

[ThatMusicWriter]

I walked back to the camp cautiously. Any dangers may emerge from fog. I was careful not to allow them to get the drop on me as I headed back.

[TheDrakemund]

The camp, though hardly visible as night took root, seemed as you left it: horses, lack of a fire, Vadimas and all.

This is not to say, however, that all was the same. No, not the road.

The dark figure that had stood there--as still as the air then hung--had vanished. And with it's passing, life returned to the woods in whispers, a sudden soft call of a distant owl formerly missed, but not forgotten. Your horse, a deep chestnut nag, gave a sigh, protesting the cold as a slight breeze reached into the treeline; a block in the river undone.

All was good. All was fine. All was as it should be.

[ThatMusicWriter]

I shuddered. I never liked the calm that followed storms. It seemed like Fate was compensating, and I knew that Fate never played fair.

I leaned against my makeshift cudgel, looking about for any threats until my shift was over.

[TheDrakemund]

A little after your "designated" shift had come to a close, Vadimas had woken with an awful start that caused him to gasp for breath and grab at the ground for surety of it's existence. Somewhat panicked, he stood shakily without a word and picked up a couple sticks and fallen pine leaves, then putting them in a pile at the center of their camp. With a snap of his inked fingers, the pieces of discarded forest easily caught fire.

Sitting down next to the flame with a restored calmness about him, he said to you sullenly, "I have had a change of heart concerning the fire. My apologies."

[ThatMusicWriter]

I looked him up and down. "Are you all right?" I asked, as I walked past and began to lie down. I don't like jumpy people; they have the tendency to ruin things with an overreaction.

[TheDrakemund]

"I am, or so I should hope. It was just a rather... lucid nightmare." His eyes were dark as they reflected flame. He looked ancient like that, grim oil paints left unfinished on some long forgotten canvas. "Have you ever heard a tale of the Horian god, Tempus?" Vadimas' voice was quiet and all of the night seemed to listen and lean in closer as he said the name of his people's deity.

[ThatMusicWriter]

"A little," I replied, "but nothing from an actual Horian."

[TheDrakemund]

Vadimas shifted his gaze to the road, but he of course found naught amiss. "He keeps and shepherds time, my mother told me. For everyone of us, he sees a path from which we will stray a thousand times and more, but we will always reach an end which he has seen and knows... Sometimes, it is said, that Tempus will temporarily offer to a Horian his eyes in exchange for something they hold precious or Tempus sees of value. And so goes the story of the Sun-seeker and the Night." He closed his eyes and his face allowed a glimpse at some inner anguish he bore. "... The Sun-seeker, trapped by blindness and self-loathing, was shunned by most of his sister and brothers--as we call the members of our communities--and all he ever longed for is to see the sun that warmed his skin and bathed his pained soul in light. Tempus saw this and, taking pity on him, asked the Sun-seeker: 'What would you give me for a chance to see the sun?' The Sun-seeker eagerly responded: 'My brothers, my sisters, my soul, anything!'

"And so Tempus, though disappointed in the Sun-seeker, gave him the vision of the sun's birth. This filled the Sun-seeker with such joy and warmth, he felt he would never feel the cool of darkness again. It was, however, not to be." Vadimas opened his eyes, his expression unreadable. "Tempus took as payment the Sun-seeker's ability to feel heat. It was his punishment for belittling his own worth and that of his fellow Horians. And so the Sun-seeker eventually died after a cold and endless night."

[ThatMusicWriter]

I looked up at the stars. "We all pay a price for our foolish desires," I said, thinking of another time, another place. My price was my home.

[TheDrakemund]

"Indeed," Vadimas nodded grimly. "Well, I will leave you to your sleep now. I'll wake you at sunrise?"

[ThatMusicWriter]

"That will be sufficient," I replied, rolling over. "It is a poetic time to set out," I said, a touch of cynicism in my voice as a drifted asleep.