Post by Thorne on May 14, 2022 21:25:26 GMT -6
(OoC: This is my first thread. I know it's not great, but my stuff will get better over time.)
Thorne hadn’t been to Sacae in years. Well, not counting just passing through it between Ilia and Lycia. Not that he particularly missed it, but it did have his favorite scenery in all of Elibe by far. Something about the plains made Thorne feel calm and happy and almost made him forget about the ninety trillion wars that were happening across the continent. Thorne couldn’t quite understand it. There was Bern, with a super-strong military starting wars everywhere for no obvious reason. Lycia was pretty much just co-existing with a huge monster invasion not to mention the petty squabbles of the various marquesses, as well as Ilia’s war with Sacae existing but both in too much of a crippling poverty to do anything. And then there was Etruria. Their ruler? Leader? Prophet? Whatever, Kran or Krab or something. He sounded pretty evil. As Thorne saw it, Etruria seemed like an over-religious group of weirdos that hated his guts, so he never saw any reason to go there.
Still, despite the wars, it seemed as if the world was quieting down. Just a few years, maybe even a decade back, you would be hard pressed not find some hero or adventurer or some legendary figure on every other street. Now, you were lucky to see one in months. Which really sucked for Thorne, because he desperately needed somebody to teach him to use Elder magic. A very important part of being a powerful spell caster was, well, spell casting, believe it or not. Some hired defense wouldn’t hurt either, as Thorne was a bandit magnet and was constantly getting in trouble. Besides, some company would be a nice change to his travels, even if it cost him half a year’s savings.
Thorne finally managed to shake himself out of his little daydream and looked around. It was late afternoon, nearing evening. It was actually rather nice, save for incredibly heavy wind buffeting Thorne and his belongings. Thorne actually loved wind most of the time. It felt nice, it messed with bandits’ aim, Thorne preferred being cold to being warm, and his cloak would always billow in the wind and look awesome. But sometimes, wind was not very nice. The reason being, wind didn’t like paper. Thorne loved paper. This was a problem, because Thorne took his notes out constantly, and wind would proceed to shoot them out of hands and blow them away, never to be seen again. Not good.
Unfortunately, there was no shelter to be seen. He was straight in the middle of Sacae, the closest guaranteed shelter being at least a week off at Bulgar. Which meant no reading his notes that night. That made him a little cranky, but it would be alright. Thorne’s sleeping set up consisted of using his knapsack as a pillow and his cloak as a blanket. The wind would die down overnight, hopefully, otherwise Thorne was going to lose his cloak. Which would suck, he knew how to mend and extend the one he had, not make a new one. And his financial status was some sort of sick joke played on him by the gods, but it let him afford supplies and information. Good enough for Thorne.
Before the sun set, Thorne pulled out his dinner. Half a loaf of bread. To most that was a sad and unfilling dinner. This bread, however, was sourdough bread. Thorne thought sourdough bread was delicious as heck, and gladly accepted it as his only food for the next week. He knew it would probably get stale, but unlike other foods like meat and cheese, old bread was usually still safe to eat, making it the supreme travel food. The sun set soon after Thorne finished his dinner, and he got in his ‘bed’. Right before he fell asleep, Thorne remembered the fact that monsters existed and would probably eat him while he was asleep. He was too tired to actually do anything about it, though, so Thorne just embraced his possible demise and drifted off.
Thorne hadn’t been to Sacae in years. Well, not counting just passing through it between Ilia and Lycia. Not that he particularly missed it, but it did have his favorite scenery in all of Elibe by far. Something about the plains made Thorne feel calm and happy and almost made him forget about the ninety trillion wars that were happening across the continent. Thorne couldn’t quite understand it. There was Bern, with a super-strong military starting wars everywhere for no obvious reason. Lycia was pretty much just co-existing with a huge monster invasion not to mention the petty squabbles of the various marquesses, as well as Ilia’s war with Sacae existing but both in too much of a crippling poverty to do anything. And then there was Etruria. Their ruler? Leader? Prophet? Whatever, Kran or Krab or something. He sounded pretty evil. As Thorne saw it, Etruria seemed like an over-religious group of weirdos that hated his guts, so he never saw any reason to go there.
Still, despite the wars, it seemed as if the world was quieting down. Just a few years, maybe even a decade back, you would be hard pressed not find some hero or adventurer or some legendary figure on every other street. Now, you were lucky to see one in months. Which really sucked for Thorne, because he desperately needed somebody to teach him to use Elder magic. A very important part of being a powerful spell caster was, well, spell casting, believe it or not. Some hired defense wouldn’t hurt either, as Thorne was a bandit magnet and was constantly getting in trouble. Besides, some company would be a nice change to his travels, even if it cost him half a year’s savings.
Thorne finally managed to shake himself out of his little daydream and looked around. It was late afternoon, nearing evening. It was actually rather nice, save for incredibly heavy wind buffeting Thorne and his belongings. Thorne actually loved wind most of the time. It felt nice, it messed with bandits’ aim, Thorne preferred being cold to being warm, and his cloak would always billow in the wind and look awesome. But sometimes, wind was not very nice. The reason being, wind didn’t like paper. Thorne loved paper. This was a problem, because Thorne took his notes out constantly, and wind would proceed to shoot them out of hands and blow them away, never to be seen again. Not good.
Unfortunately, there was no shelter to be seen. He was straight in the middle of Sacae, the closest guaranteed shelter being at least a week off at Bulgar. Which meant no reading his notes that night. That made him a little cranky, but it would be alright. Thorne’s sleeping set up consisted of using his knapsack as a pillow and his cloak as a blanket. The wind would die down overnight, hopefully, otherwise Thorne was going to lose his cloak. Which would suck, he knew how to mend and extend the one he had, not make a new one. And his financial status was some sort of sick joke played on him by the gods, but it let him afford supplies and information. Good enough for Thorne.
Before the sun set, Thorne pulled out his dinner. Half a loaf of bread. To most that was a sad and unfilling dinner. This bread, however, was sourdough bread. Thorne thought sourdough bread was delicious as heck, and gladly accepted it as his only food for the next week. He knew it would probably get stale, but unlike other foods like meat and cheese, old bread was usually still safe to eat, making it the supreme travel food. The sun set soon after Thorne finished his dinner, and he got in his ‘bed’. Right before he fell asleep, Thorne remembered the fact that monsters existed and would probably eat him while he was asleep. He was too tired to actually do anything about it, though, so Thorne just embraced his possible demise and drifted off.