WOT Adv 18

--- The Wheel Turns ---
You quickly strike camp and move out. The calm after the storm is almost deafening in its comparative silence. As you examine trees bowed over by the incessant wind, and examine the shattered tree who took the force of the lightning bolt, you appreciate the raw fury of nature, and learn to respect it. In fact, limbs of trees and matted grasses cover the surrounding country side for miles. But the day is finally clear and with sunshine on your face you return to the road and move at a rapid pace following a river in a south western direction.

Seeing no markers to indicate a deviation from the road by Maeslyn, you continue onward, pushing yourself to your limit, sometimes jogging, other times walking quickly. You barely stop to eat, but push the food in your mouth, and like some fantastic machine from the Age of Legends, you scarecely pause in your travels. You grow tired as the sun climbs in the sky and reaches its zenith, yet still you travel at a punishing pace.

As the sun lowers into afternoon, the country side changes, becoming more forested, you can see more pines and conifers in the area.

The sun finally dips below the horizon, and still you travel. Even when it's dark outside, you force your leaden legs to carry you on, hoping for some sign of Maeslyn.

At last you are travelling in darkness and in the distance you can see a pale glow through the trees.

Your throat feels parched, and your body cries out for death, sleep, anything. But your will to regain your honor, to fulfill your t'oh carries you forward.

Eventually, the road carries you to a wetlander settlement. You cannot make out the strange characters of their writing, but you can see on a worn sign that gently sways in the breeze, a faded yellow, colored pinetree, standing at the base of a hill.

Bleary eyed and weary, you lean against a gate post. From inside you hear a man shout "Who is abroad this night? State your business!"

You try to speak but no words come out except a single ragged rasping of breath, your tongue feels like a fat snake in your mouth, dry and scaley, and unwilling to obey your command. You try to hold onto the gate's handle, but you fall to your knees and then collapse from exhaustion.

- - - - -

"Is he awake?" you hear a muffled male voice ask.
"Not yet," a soft woman's voice answers. "He was unconcious when you brought him in, dear."
"I wonder where he's from," the man queries to himself. "I see a lot of travellers in my job. But rarely do they collapse at the gate. And rarely are they so armed."
"A hunter maybe?" she asks.
"Perhaps. That spear looks like it's seen more than just a wild boar though," the male voice grunts.
"Well, we'll know soon enough," she responds.

You crack one eye open and can see the bright sun shining through an open window, a light breeze causes yellow colored curtains to flutter playfully about. You look out the south facing window and can see you are an upper story of a building. People move to and fro on a street below. The sun is already high in the sky, and you are ravishing with hunger. For a moment you can't even remember who you are or why you are here, just that you are hungry.

And then it all comes back. Maeslyn, the Dragkhar, Aybiya, and the other memories return and you sit bolt upright in your bed, and smash your head on low ceiling. You moan and clutch your head gritting your teeth.

"I'd say he's awake," the man says.

You hear the door open and can see a short, stocky, but muscular man, in his mid-thirties, with a full shock of dark hair and a well trimmed beard. His dark eyes consider you carefully.

"I see you are up," he says with a friendly smile. "You are lucky I was on watch, Nathar probably woudn't have brought you in, but he's a suspicious man and sees worse than things usually are. I'm not one for leaving a traveller in need to perish on my watch."

He sets down a simple wooden tray of food and drink on a table next to you. "Eat, drink, and rest."

You take a long drink of cool water from a wooden cup, draining its contents and then quickly wolf down the rest of the food on the tray, a simple fare of corn bread and some stew. He talks to you while you eat.

"I am Hadra, keeper of the gates of Low Goldpine, a fine little village, if I might say so myself. My wife, Alara has been worried about you. Ever since I dragged you in late last night, she's been preening over you like a mother hen. It looks like you have regained your vigor and your consciousness, and so I can assauge her fears at last." He nods and smiles at you and pulls up a chair.

"Now tell me, what brings you here to Low Goldpine."