« on: August 19, 2017, 12:38:34 AM »
[A small, road-worn notes ledger. The front cover has a red wine stain on its leather surface - the yellowed pages inside seem to mainly comprise of shipment numbers, recipients and prices, by the crate, of some produce, all written down in haphazard Balok. About halfway through it turns into a travel log...]August 19th, 772
Vallaki is an odd place. Moreso, the areas around it. Danger seems to pour out of the walls. The folk that frequent it, travellers, at least, seem to be mostly outlanders, from beyond the mist, and they are all a different sort of odd from one another. Some seem friendly, and decent enough, though others remind me of what Toret Norton used to say about roving feet and restless hands. In short, of lunacy. Lots of shortfolk, too, but they mostly seem, again... decent. Seen more regular humans that were out of place than them, and that leads me to all the witches. How they've not all been burned yet is a mystery.
Some days, I miss Karina. The sun on my face, the smell of our vineyard, and mama's cooking. Then I remember the lunacy... funny how Norton ignored that about most of his followers.
I sent a letter to some important lady up in the mountains, looking for work. I didn't learn much in the way of swordfighting to become a guard, but I figure I might as well have tried for something steady. Maybe she will be kind enough to let me do something else, and train on the side. Matters little to me.
Just being away from home is payment enough.
- S.F.
« Last Edit: August 19, 2017, 01:11:18 AM by Pav »
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