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Midnight: A Lost Faith's Shadow. Book 1, The Awakening. Chapter 1, The Charge
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<blockquote data-quote="Dirigible" data-source="post: 2632289" data-attributes="member: 12631"><p><strong>Jon Rane</strong></p><p></p><p>A drop of water drizzled down his neck, moistening the collar of his coat unpleasantly.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: orange">"I'm cold, wet and hungry,"</span> Jon groused at the grim evening, tucked up under the thick multi-layered canvas and wool of the bedroll he had acquired from the gnomes of the <em>Starlit Maiden</em>. </p><p><span style="color: orange">"No, my mistake... I was cold, wet and hungry <strong>yesterday</strong>. Now, I'm freezing, soaked and starving..."</span></p><p></p><p><em>What am I doing here?</em> he lamented privately. <em>Following a funny feeling is a bad way to take the fight to the enemy. Seems to be a good way to avoid them, though... haven't seen so much as a trace of a orc or a priest sine I got here. Which is odd, since they broke through here when I was commanding...</em> Jon suddenly stopped, his indigo eyes staring blankly into the night. Slowly and deliberately, she shook his head, as if trying to dislodge the memories he never earned. <em>I've never led an army... I've never been here. You're not my mind...</em> Whatever else he had failed to achieve sitting here in the miserable dankness of the North, he had certainly got to know the Old Man better.</p><p></p><p>Hardly a welcome development.</p><p></p><p>He sat for a while longer, the hardness of the monolith seeming to soak into his back, making his spine stiff. Slowly, his head nodded, the brown curls of his hair brushing his chest.</p><p></p><p><em>She is here... the returned one. Islen... Ailing... Island....</em></p><p></p><p>Jon's head snapped up, a pale green aurora lighting his features.</p><p></p><p></p><p><span style="color: orange">"Eh? What in the Witch's name...?"</span> He gave a low whistle. <em>I'd better pack up my gear. We're moving.</em> Mechanically, Jon rolled up his bedroll with practised precision, and hung it from the sling on his back. Stooping to retrieve his oaken cudgel, he sidled out from behind the standing stone towards the ragged band.</p><p></p><p></p><p><span style="color: orange">"I'd say well met, but you seem to have brought uninvited guests..."</span> Jon announced as he approached.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Dirigible, post: 2632289, member: 12631"] [b]Jon Rane[/b] A drop of water drizzled down his neck, moistening the collar of his coat unpleasantly. [color=orange]"I'm cold, wet and hungry,"[/color] Jon groused at the grim evening, tucked up under the thick multi-layered canvas and wool of the bedroll he had acquired from the gnomes of the [i]Starlit Maiden[/i]. [color=orange]"No, my mistake... I was cold, wet and hungry [b]yesterday[/b]. Now, I'm freezing, soaked and starving..."[/color] [i]What am I doing here?[/i] he lamented privately. [i]Following a funny feeling is a bad way to take the fight to the enemy. Seems to be a good way to avoid them, though... haven't seen so much as a trace of a orc or a priest sine I got here. Which is odd, since they broke through here when I was commanding...[/i] Jon suddenly stopped, his indigo eyes staring blankly into the night. Slowly and deliberately, she shook his head, as if trying to dislodge the memories he never earned. [i]I've never led an army... I've never been here. You're not my mind...[/i] Whatever else he had failed to achieve sitting here in the miserable dankness of the North, he had certainly got to know the Old Man better. Hardly a welcome development. He sat for a while longer, the hardness of the monolith seeming to soak into his back, making his spine stiff. Slowly, his head nodded, the brown curls of his hair brushing his chest. [i]She is here... the returned one. Islen... Ailing... Island....[/i] Jon's head snapped up, a pale green aurora lighting his features. [color=orange]"Eh? What in the Witch's name...?"[/color] He gave a low whistle. [i]I'd better pack up my gear. We're moving.[/i] Mechanically, Jon rolled up his bedroll with practised precision, and hung it from the sling on his back. Stooping to retrieve his oaken cudgel, he sidled out from behind the standing stone towards the ragged band. [color=orange]"I'd say well met, but you seem to have brought uninvited guests..."[/color] Jon announced as he approached. [/QUOTE]
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