| Subject: Trek of a Foreigner |
Author:
Lascuvi
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Date Posted: 13:19:25 11/18/02 Mon
The sun was setting on the unkept field, though none could tell with the fog, and someone that didn't belong moved hastily across the untilled earth. Looking over his shoulder every fifth or sixth step, Lascuvi jogged as fast as his weary legs would carry him. Something was wrong back and camp, and he thanked whatever higher powers the natives worshiped that he'd been picked to head to town for news.
Last night had been a strange night indeed. The band of Vistani were camped an hour's hike south of Bridalveil, sharing songs and stories around the campfire. Madam Ulgesku, the aged leader of the group, was not amoung those celebrating the success of the day's hunt. She'd lately taken to keeping to her own wagon, even at times of feasting. Lascuvi proudly thought of himself as the group's best poet, and was in the middle of an especially clever ballad when something happened to the fire.
Fire grows, shrinks, and changes color with every moment. It is unpredicable, much like the Vistani people. This fire was altogether different. The orange tongues went from their normal hue to a sudden green, casting a heavy light on the wagons, and his song stopped abruptly. And with the fire were the visions, at least Lascuvi was certain he saw something. Fire within fire, and blood boiling. Broken bones and shattered bodies, he saw magic, he saw war, he saw a shadow, and felt the night closing in.
It was over almost before it began. The fire was out now, only glowing coals remained. As Lascuvi glanced around the fire pit, gaping mouths and terrified eyes told him the others had seen something as well. No one spoke for a moment, they just sat in the darkness.
"Children, children, children." an ancient voice scolded. Madam Ulgesku. No one had seen her emerge from her brightly decorated wagon. Lascuvi shivered as she placed her withered and frail hand on his shoulder. "It is late. Enough with the stories. There's much to do tommorrow." None protested. "Klaniv, first watch. Lascuvi, second."
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He was still awake when Klaniv came to rouse him. Taking a seat next to the fire with his lute, he tried to pull his mind off the earlier events. It was to no avail. Lascuvi was no coward. The darkness was usually ever Vistani's friend, as much an ally as one's comrades, yet tonight it filled him with fear.
Nothing happened the first hour but for a bit of fog that rolled in, and it was well into the second when Klaniv emerged from his family's wagon followed by his wife and ten year old son. "You could also not sleep?" Lascuvi questioned quietly, more than a little relief in his voice for someone to sit with. Footsteps caused him to turn and see the brothers Vanin and Claudio also out and about, followed by Old Otelu the chief huntsman. His new found grin soured though as they gave no indication that they'd seen him.
The six slowly walked to the fire, formed a circle, and continued ignoring Lascuvi. After a moment they turned as one, and quickly strode off north. It took him a moment to react to the strange behavior and follow them. He caught up to Otelu first and grabbed him by the shoulder, demanding answers. The old huntsman threw Lascuvi to the ground and took a few hurried steps to catch up with his fellows. When Lascuvi caught him again, Otelu knocked him out cold. No one was awake to see the fog roll out of the camp, nipping the heels of six shadows.
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Something had happened to his comrades, and he was almost afraid to find out what. Madam Ulgesku blamed Lascuvi for letting them go, though he felt she herself knew more than she was telling. As punishment, Lascuvi would go after them, north towards Bridalveil. If necessary, he was to deal with the natives and find out if they'd seen or heard anything. If he'd had his way, Lascuvi would have set out immediatly, but Ulgesku told him to wait until she'd had time to meditate on it, and it was very late in the afternoon when she'd finally let him leave. Ulgesku and the remaining twelve awaited his return. Lascuvi hoped to find some answers in Bridalveil, and hopefully the wanderers as well. He feared returning empty handed as he vanished into the fog.
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