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dplax · 11-02-2009, 05:54 AM

Portentous questions never had easy answers. Besides, he knew little of magic and magical objects. All he knew was that he now had something in his possession that many would be willing to kill for. It was not a comfortable thought. He replaced the vial and the two coins in their pouch and placed the pouch in his saddlebag.
Keeping his sword close at hand, he slowly drifted off into a fitful sleep, waking at the lightest of sounds during the night.

Inbetween periods of wakefullness he dreamt. Disjointed, disturbing dreams, that always kept coming back to that fateful night and those frenzied seconds as the raider's struck.

He woke up covered in sweat despite the chilly morning air. Cursing he threw a few twigs on the dying embers of the fire. Strips of dried meat were all he had left. He would have to hunt soon. An hour before the sun set he was already on his way, Sandstorm walking as he had done for the past months.
The poor beast was a long time past his prime. That he had kept carrying Fuorlan for so long was a miracle in itself. He was barely capable of a charge now and needed more and more breaks each day. The last faithful companion from the past the desert warrior was fleeing from would soon leave him. It was another subject he did not want to think about. He let the aged horse drink long from the waters of the river as he refilled his waterskins.
There was an army camped on the other side of the river, he could see that from the cookfires and the sentries on the far side of the river. A river that had countless corpses floating on its surface as gruesome evidence to some past battle.
The sentries had seen him of course and were excitedly discussing, pointing often at him. He gave them no heed. The river was too wide for a bowshot and they visibly had no boats. Besides, from the way the bodies sped past, the current seemed treacherous. This army would need to find a passable ford or bridge if it wanted to cross the river.

Sandstorm finished drinking and his master's familiar hands and legs guided him away from the river and into the forest again. The ground rose ever so slightly under his hooves as they made their way upstream.

11-02-2009, 05:54 AM	#13
dplax Jack Burton Join Date: July 19, 2003 Location: an expat living in France Age: 40 Posts: 5,577	Re: Rivulets Portentous questions never had easy answers. Besides, he knew little of magic and magical objects. All he knew was that he now had something in his possession that many would be willing to kill for. It was not a comfortable thought. He replaced the vial and the two coins in their pouch and placed the pouch in his saddlebag. Keeping his sword close at hand, he slowly drifted off into a fitful sleep, waking at the lightest of sounds during the night. Inbetween periods of wakefullness he dreamt. Disjointed, disturbing dreams, that always kept coming back to that fateful night and those frenzied seconds as the raider's struck. He woke up covered in sweat despite the chilly morning air. Cursing he threw a few twigs on the dying embers of the fire. Strips of dried meat were all he had left. He would have to hunt soon. An hour before the sun set he was already on his way, Sandstorm walking as he had done for the past months. The poor beast was a long time past his prime. That he had kept carrying Fuorlan for so long was a miracle in itself. He was barely capable of a charge now and needed more and more breaks each day. The last faithful companion from the past the desert warrior was fleeing from would soon leave him. It was another subject he did not want to think about. He let the aged horse drink long from the waters of the river as he refilled his waterskins. There was an army camped on the other side of the river, he could see that from the cookfires and the sentries on the far side of the river. A river that had countless corpses floating on its surface as gruesome evidence to some past battle. The sentries had seen him of course and were excitedly discussing, pointing often at him. He gave them no heed. The river was too wide for a bowshot and they visibly had no boats. Besides, from the way the bodies sped past, the current seemed treacherous. This army would need to find a passable ford or bridge if it wanted to cross the river. Sandstorm finished drinking and his master's familiar hands and legs guided him away from the river and into the forest again. The ground rose ever so slightly under his hooves as they made their way upstream.