A Perilous Crossing (Closed)
Jul 14, 2015 19:20:16 GMT -6
Post by Richter Abend on Jul 14, 2015 19:20:16 GMT -6
It was early morning, and the light of a new morning sun was gently peering into the small village tavern. The dining room was empty, save for one, pink haired Ilian who sat at a small table next to a window, blowing on his hot barley tea and watching the steam rise up from the mouth of the mug. He tried to take a sip, but withdrew his lips just as the touched the lip of his cup. Still too hot. Gah, this is why he usually stuck to cold drinks, but barely tea was a favorite of his. The Ilian sighed and looked out the window.
The oppressively tall peaks of the southern Ilian mountains rose high above this sleepy little village. Spiny snow tipped peaks stretched up and up, as if trying to touch the very sky itself, while the rolling foothills crowded around them, aspiring to one day become mountains themselves. Here the grass ceased being green, instead favoring a brownish hue, readily marking the land where the plains ended and the harsh north began. Richter looked back to his drink. He bit his lip. These mountains were unforgiving and cruel, and the men that traversed them took their lives into their hands, and he was not traveling alone.
While it was the safest, most commonly traveled route into the northern country, traversing the Frolov Valley would have delayed their journey by weeks, maybe even months if the weather turned poor. In contrast, the Carrhae Pass was not an easy route. It was not safe route. It was, however, the fastest way to get to Edessa. But even now Richter was second guessing his decision to take it. People died traveling this route, and the general rule of the thumb was to only brave its steep slopes and icy winds if absolutely necessary, which left Richter asking himself that question: was this absolutely necessary? He knew Etruria would invade, though he knew not when or where. They could invade months from now. But they could invade tomorrow. In fact, for all he knew, the invasion had already begun. That made time of the utmost essence. Yes, this was the right decision. He needed to reach Edessa. He needed to convince the lords to turn their eyes towards Etruria. He needed to rally his people. There was no other choice for them, he just needed to make them see it.
Richter put his drink up to his lips again, touching the tea with his tongue. No burn, but still warm. Perfect. The commander took a long sip and looked back out the window. People died on this pass, he realized that, and this was not a decision he had made lightly. If his companions chose to join him, it would be of their own accord. They would cross this mountain range, they would speak with the Ilian government, and likely they would risk their lives fighting in battle. But regardless, he could not turn back now. The engines of war had started to churn, and when the drums of battle began to sound in the distance, the Winter Lion would not be not far behind.
The oppressively tall peaks of the southern Ilian mountains rose high above this sleepy little village. Spiny snow tipped peaks stretched up and up, as if trying to touch the very sky itself, while the rolling foothills crowded around them, aspiring to one day become mountains themselves. Here the grass ceased being green, instead favoring a brownish hue, readily marking the land where the plains ended and the harsh north began. Richter looked back to his drink. He bit his lip. These mountains were unforgiving and cruel, and the men that traversed them took their lives into their hands, and he was not traveling alone.
While it was the safest, most commonly traveled route into the northern country, traversing the Frolov Valley would have delayed their journey by weeks, maybe even months if the weather turned poor. In contrast, the Carrhae Pass was not an easy route. It was not safe route. It was, however, the fastest way to get to Edessa. But even now Richter was second guessing his decision to take it. People died traveling this route, and the general rule of the thumb was to only brave its steep slopes and icy winds if absolutely necessary, which left Richter asking himself that question: was this absolutely necessary? He knew Etruria would invade, though he knew not when or where. They could invade months from now. But they could invade tomorrow. In fact, for all he knew, the invasion had already begun. That made time of the utmost essence. Yes, this was the right decision. He needed to reach Edessa. He needed to convince the lords to turn their eyes towards Etruria. He needed to rally his people. There was no other choice for them, he just needed to make them see it.
Richter put his drink up to his lips again, touching the tea with his tongue. No burn, but still warm. Perfect. The commander took a long sip and looked back out the window. People died on this pass, he realized that, and this was not a decision he had made lightly. If his companions chose to join him, it would be of their own accord. They would cross this mountain range, they would speak with the Ilian government, and likely they would risk their lives fighting in battle. But regardless, he could not turn back now. The engines of war had started to churn, and when the drums of battle began to sound in the distance, the Winter Lion would not be not far behind.