Post by nicz on Feb 19, 2011 6:10:10 GMT -5
I didn't have time to copy this into my journal and I didn't expect to die. Then even if it's not finished since I've still got to translate some parts, I wouldn't like it to go to void too. So here's what you were supposed to find in Hveps journal when you've found his body.
Miles away from the Erith caves who'll be overwhelmed one day anyway. Deep in the woods, not far from the seashore and facing the new sun.
This place seems quiet enough, if quiet ever means anything, to settle down. I'm tired anyway of walking for three days now.
It's been nine days since I've left the Erith fort now. And the first person who's not infected I have to meet is you. Ramin Willian.
Ramin Willian, as written in what appears to be the book of your life, a desperately short story..
Ramin Willian, trapped like a rat in this crumbling building. Would I have been aware of it before, that it would have been the two of us. And I'd rather have it make one.
Least I could do though would be to bring this dusty writings to the Erith caves, or maybe not.
Five screaming moons have passed since then. And yet another lost soul has crossed my steps.
I'll have to go and look for this so called camp Gadget before the night falls for it was his last, main, and only one I could accomplish, will. His memories are all in my pocket. until they can be buried there.
His gear, rusted anyway by the salty waters that have drowned the Trilius Way, would not lay there, for I could make a better use of it than him now.
Alas so was his corpse, yet half rotten and chewed. A pile of flesh in tatters waiting for the tide to bring it to its last sepulture.
Vesil Petrov. So were you called. Vesil Petrov, your companions in life, if I'm ever to meet them, shall give proper rest the last traces of your existence.
So this is here that it lays. The camp Gadget. Sitting right in front of an ancient tower from the other side of the ravines, where the sun goes dark in the deepest parts of the forest, as if it was keeping its eyes on it.
There I've met someone who has intoduced herself as the local inn manager and gave her your remains. Some fresh bread, a warm welcome and gratitude was all I've received for my deed. I wasn't expecting more. I wasn't expecting to see what I've seen anyway. Far from it. In these less than favourable days, I've accepted her hospitality far from the yells thar are roaming around the lands of Ishtal. As if nothing had ever happened.
There was a man with her. I was meant to learn his name later.
The both of them were noticeably dressed of black and red clothes and that's not leaving any doubt about their belonging to the same clan.
A half blooded orc was standing still in their inn, silent for all the time of my very short stay. Silent as I've been.
While writing, I realise now I don't even know their names, as sure as they don't know mine either, but whatever. Times aren't times of courtesy anymore. Why else would they be?
The day after, I was wandering in the woods core while I suddenly fell face to face with quite a huge beast, grey skinned, and well undescriptable. I've found shelter by a strong encampment there behind wide stone walls.
There were two persons there, obviously busy fortifying their encampment.
Nothing happened more than that. Despite the fact that she was dressed with nothing else than her skin and hair, that I didn't introduce myself since I could hardly talk after running so hard, and that they didn't seem to worry much about my presence or intrusion, not enough for a single question in any case. Nothing happened. Weird. People just sometimes have the same expression than the gone, eternally walking to nowhere.
I went to see Troende by the Erith caves, sixteen days after I've left him there. He seems to be recovering fast though he's not yet ready to come to the camp. Too weak still.
It has been raining for seven days, nothing else but rain. I feel cold to the bone.
Miles away from the Erith caves who'll be overwhelmed one day anyway. Deep in the woods, not far from the seashore and facing the new sun.
This place seems quiet enough, if quiet ever means anything, to settle down. I'm tired anyway of walking for three days now.
It's been nine days since I've left the Erith fort now. And the first person who's not infected I have to meet is you. Ramin Willian.
Ramin Willian, as written in what appears to be the book of your life, a desperately short story..
Ramin Willian, trapped like a rat in this crumbling building. Would I have been aware of it before, that it would have been the two of us. And I'd rather have it make one.
Least I could do though would be to bring this dusty writings to the Erith caves, or maybe not.
Five screaming moons have passed since then. And yet another lost soul has crossed my steps.
I'll have to go and look for this so called camp Gadget before the night falls for it was his last, main, and only one I could accomplish, will. His memories are all in my pocket. until they can be buried there.
His gear, rusted anyway by the salty waters that have drowned the Trilius Way, would not lay there, for I could make a better use of it than him now.
Alas so was his corpse, yet half rotten and chewed. A pile of flesh in tatters waiting for the tide to bring it to its last sepulture.
Vesil Petrov. So were you called. Vesil Petrov, your companions in life, if I'm ever to meet them, shall give proper rest the last traces of your existence.
So this is here that it lays. The camp Gadget. Sitting right in front of an ancient tower from the other side of the ravines, where the sun goes dark in the deepest parts of the forest, as if it was keeping its eyes on it.
There I've met someone who has intoduced herself as the local inn manager and gave her your remains. Some fresh bread, a warm welcome and gratitude was all I've received for my deed. I wasn't expecting more. I wasn't expecting to see what I've seen anyway. Far from it. In these less than favourable days, I've accepted her hospitality far from the yells thar are roaming around the lands of Ishtal. As if nothing had ever happened.
There was a man with her. I was meant to learn his name later.
The both of them were noticeably dressed of black and red clothes and that's not leaving any doubt about their belonging to the same clan.
A half blooded orc was standing still in their inn, silent for all the time of my very short stay. Silent as I've been.
While writing, I realise now I don't even know their names, as sure as they don't know mine either, but whatever. Times aren't times of courtesy anymore. Why else would they be?
The day after, I was wandering in the woods core while I suddenly fell face to face with quite a huge beast, grey skinned, and well undescriptable. I've found shelter by a strong encampment there behind wide stone walls.
There were two persons there, obviously busy fortifying their encampment.
Nothing happened more than that. Despite the fact that she was dressed with nothing else than her skin and hair, that I didn't introduce myself since I could hardly talk after running so hard, and that they didn't seem to worry much about my presence or intrusion, not enough for a single question in any case. Nothing happened. Weird. People just sometimes have the same expression than the gone, eternally walking to nowhere.
I went to see Troende by the Erith caves, sixteen days after I've left him there. He seems to be recovering fast though he's not yet ready to come to the camp. Too weak still.
It has been raining for seven days, nothing else but rain. I feel cold to the bone.