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The Scars Run Deep (Updated - 3/29/2004)
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<blockquote data-quote="Ruined" data-source="post: 826574" data-attributes="member: 113"><p><u>4th of Chardot, yr. 150 A.V. </u></p><p></p><p>The humidity was choking as they moved along their northern path. If the heat was sweltering only a few days into summer, what would the remaining months bring? Gerad was born and bred to work in this heat, but he savored the thought that their quest may carry them up into the cooler portions of Ghelspad.</p><p></p><p>“How do we intend to find this mage?” he asked to the women that followed behind him.</p><p></p><p>“If he is a mage of any worth, he should be known to someone. We can ask in Zamon.” Tréan held the rear of the group, walking with her spear in hand. They had discussed Zamon as their next likely stop. Known as the ‘Jewel of Zathiske’, it was possible they could seek aid there. With their current path, they should reach the city in a matter of days. </p><p></p><p>The group traveled within sight the Broadreach river, part of the reason behind the humid day. Were they not sought after by Calastian forces, they would have walked the river’s edge, but wisdom and the tracking capabilities of Surielle allowed them to carve a path near the Broadreach. Already they had spotted smaller river patrols and one large, single-mast Calastian vessel sailing north up the river.</p><p></p><p>Gerad found that the path ahead of him ended in a small cliff that dropped down thirty feet to the shore of the river. Their path occasionally dead-ended at such places, although Surielle could usually take them around without revealing themselves to those who might travel the river.</p><p></p><p>He turned to tell Tréan and Surielle, but his words were cut short as the dirt beneath his feet gave way, sliding him down towards the river below. There was a frightened yelp beside him, as Snowmelt also slid down the treacherous slope. He came to a stop at the bottom, suffering only minor scrapes to his hands and elbows.</p><p></p><p>“Are you all right?” Surielle called from above. Gerad wondered if she meant him or the wolf.</p><p></p><p>“Yeah, I believe so.” He rose to his feet and brushed dirt off of his legs. As he stood, a symbol caught his eye. On one of the larger sandy rocks about ten paces away was a stylized carving that resembled nothing so much as a large fang. The carving appeared shallow, but had been washed with a rusty color Gerad suspected to be blood.</p><p></p><p>Before he could tell the women about his find, he heard a startled cry from above. Immediately he looked to see what trouble had found them, but he saw that Surielle was pointing back behind him. Grasping his spear he whirled to see three black-skinned crocodiles advancing out of the water towards him and Snowmelt.</p><p></p><p>And their eyes were glowing a baleful red.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Ruined, post: 826574, member: 113"] [u]4th of Chardot, yr. 150 A.V. [/u] The humidity was choking as they moved along their northern path. If the heat was sweltering only a few days into summer, what would the remaining months bring? Gerad was born and bred to work in this heat, but he savored the thought that their quest may carry them up into the cooler portions of Ghelspad. “How do we intend to find this mage?” he asked to the women that followed behind him. “If he is a mage of any worth, he should be known to someone. We can ask in Zamon.” Tréan held the rear of the group, walking with her spear in hand. They had discussed Zamon as their next likely stop. Known as the ‘Jewel of Zathiske’, it was possible they could seek aid there. With their current path, they should reach the city in a matter of days. The group traveled within sight the Broadreach river, part of the reason behind the humid day. Were they not sought after by Calastian forces, they would have walked the river’s edge, but wisdom and the tracking capabilities of Surielle allowed them to carve a path near the Broadreach. Already they had spotted smaller river patrols and one large, single-mast Calastian vessel sailing north up the river. Gerad found that the path ahead of him ended in a small cliff that dropped down thirty feet to the shore of the river. Their path occasionally dead-ended at such places, although Surielle could usually take them around without revealing themselves to those who might travel the river. He turned to tell Tréan and Surielle, but his words were cut short as the dirt beneath his feet gave way, sliding him down towards the river below. There was a frightened yelp beside him, as Snowmelt also slid down the treacherous slope. He came to a stop at the bottom, suffering only minor scrapes to his hands and elbows. “Are you all right?” Surielle called from above. Gerad wondered if she meant him or the wolf. “Yeah, I believe so.” He rose to his feet and brushed dirt off of his legs. As he stood, a symbol caught his eye. On one of the larger sandy rocks about ten paces away was a stylized carving that resembled nothing so much as a large fang. The carving appeared shallow, but had been washed with a rusty color Gerad suspected to be blood. Before he could tell the women about his find, he heard a startled cry from above. Immediately he looked to see what trouble had found them, but he saw that Surielle was pointing back behind him. Grasping his spear he whirled to see three black-skinned crocodiles advancing out of the water towards him and Snowmelt. And their eyes were glowing a baleful red. [/QUOTE]
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