Open Chronicles [Into the desolation] A strange new world

[Mualiin]

"I shall handle the lumber."

Dropping the still corpse of a beetle from his claw, the armored giant strode past the group and towards the clearing, his axe almost absent-mindedly cleaving a tree as thick as his arm. The wood fell with a thud, letting the giant drag it along until he reached the waters.

With another thud, he chopped off a piece from the large log, enough to use for a campfire. The rest... he would let the others figure something out. He was not the type to innovate in this situation. With a skill not quite befitting his size, Mualiin carved off the bark from the wood with his axeblade, taking care not to bump into the others with the handle.

Szesh Na’ill Ermengarde Thrukk Guldarp Morgan Korak Benthai Cetus

 

[Szesh]

Szesh blew a controlled jet of flame on the log to ignite it, and placed a few more pieces around it to add as the fire grew. He finally removed the heavy pack from his back and stretched his neck, back, and shoulders in relief. He shook out his large wings before settling down beside the supplies.

He found the provisions he had brought along: a large amount of dried meat, some hard vegetables that would keep, and a decent amount of fresh water.

He sat by the fire as the night grew darker, eating a ration from the pack. He had seen, felt, and smelled the ooze that had spilled from the mantises, and wanted no part of whatever meal was made from them.

The stars were bright here, but not unfamiliar. They had not outrun the constellations, it seemed. Szesh did not look for the red eyes of Draco this night. He felt no need to give in to their judgement.

 

[Ermengarde]

»There we go, « Ermengarde sat down on a log she rolled to the fire.
With a stockpile of firewood and campfire alit, it came useful to have such a diverse layout of men to offer their unique skills in this quest.

She crossed over her legs and set down a small wooden desk. Upon it, she set up a journal and began scribbling with her quill. Keeping a journal was some last-minute decision of her's, but certainly, the information will be useful to later generations.

---

Some of the porters roasted to mantid meat, one took a bite with a face distorted and swollen and exclaimed. »Tastes like shrimp.«
»Really? Lemme try.«
»Here, take it.«


»I would like some after,« Ermengarde muttered quietly, her eyes set on the journal.