- Messages
- 19
Falwood
Boot and hoof squashed down into the muddied path of the camp. Men and horses moved to and fro, finding their places to settle amidst the various tents that had sprung up just north of Falwood's vast treeline. The sky was grey and the land was damp, and such had been since Gerald had arrived there, now many days ago. He sat quietly atop a crate just near the path and ate from an apple that he carved with his knife. He watched the new arrivals pass by, peering out from the hood that shielded him from the misty rain that had persisted now for an hour or more. There were certainly all kinds that had come.
From what he'd learned since his own arrival, the camp had grown over the last few weeks as mercenaries and would-be adventurers got word of some sort of expedition. He was one such individual. From what he understood, a dwarf named Filn Stenlager apparently knew of some great treasure deep in the Falwood, and he intended to uncover it. Only, for reasons not exactly specified, he required a sizeable armed force to go with him. Gerald had not spoken to this Filn in person, but there were several other dwarves with him, and Gerald had spoken to one of them.
Anymore, Gerald wasn't much bothered with the whys or the what or really even the who. He really only needed coin, and only enough to live. Apart from that, it wasn't as though he lived for the hunt or strove for great power, but the sword was all he remembered anymore, and all he did was sell it to anothers' will. He had little need of anything else, so long as it didn't involve needlessly harming innocence.
But to some, to those murmuring here and there just within and without earshot, it mattered.
Tales of a lost city, and a forgotten people; tales of great fortunes, and magic.
"Apparently there are all kinds of jewels and gems," someone said, "and crystals."
As the day's light began to fade and the fires began to rise up, word made its way throughout the camp.
They would be leaving come morning.
Boot and hoof squashed down into the muddied path of the camp. Men and horses moved to and fro, finding their places to settle amidst the various tents that had sprung up just north of Falwood's vast treeline. The sky was grey and the land was damp, and such had been since Gerald had arrived there, now many days ago. He sat quietly atop a crate just near the path and ate from an apple that he carved with his knife. He watched the new arrivals pass by, peering out from the hood that shielded him from the misty rain that had persisted now for an hour or more. There were certainly all kinds that had come.
From what he'd learned since his own arrival, the camp had grown over the last few weeks as mercenaries and would-be adventurers got word of some sort of expedition. He was one such individual. From what he understood, a dwarf named Filn Stenlager apparently knew of some great treasure deep in the Falwood, and he intended to uncover it. Only, for reasons not exactly specified, he required a sizeable armed force to go with him. Gerald had not spoken to this Filn in person, but there were several other dwarves with him, and Gerald had spoken to one of them.
Anymore, Gerald wasn't much bothered with the whys or the what or really even the who. He really only needed coin, and only enough to live. Apart from that, it wasn't as though he lived for the hunt or strove for great power, but the sword was all he remembered anymore, and all he did was sell it to anothers' will. He had little need of anything else, so long as it didn't involve needlessly harming innocence.
But to some, to those murmuring here and there just within and without earshot, it mattered.
Tales of a lost city, and a forgotten people; tales of great fortunes, and magic.
"Apparently there are all kinds of jewels and gems," someone said, "and crystals."
As the day's light began to fade and the fires began to rise up, word made its way throughout the camp.
They would be leaving come morning.
