This is the autobiographical journal of Arvil Bren, a somewhat reluctant hero who has been placed on an unknown quest by powers that he barely knows exist. Follow his journey as it is updated daily, Monday through Friday, and enjoy! These are the most recent entries in Arvil Bren's third journal; Politics of the Redoran. His first journal can be found in its entirety here. His second journal, Trail of the Archmage can be found here.

Thursday, May 19, 2005

Day 119: A long day indeed

When I went to bed last night I expected a long day of searching for the Sixth House base. I have had a long day. Mostly I spent it with Caius' voice echoing in my head, saying "don't end up recruited into the Legions." I did spend the day among soldiers, who did accept me as one of their own, at least temporarily.

The recent loss of the scouting party, and the harrowing death of their one comrade who made it back to the fort, has cast a pall over the garrison here. They have assigned patrols in the surrounding ashlands, and occasionally make a showing in Ald-ruhn. Today they didn't do any of those things.

I awoke once again to the sound of howling winds. The soldiers stirred uneasily. Everyone knows the ashstorms blow down from Red Mountain, and Red Mountain is the source of the blight. Their recent direct experience with the corprus disease has left a raw wound. Their fellow soldier, Barlad Falown, died a horrible death, raving and shrieking and clawing at his own flesh, which grew back as fast as he could tear chunks loose with his gnarled hands. I heard the story at least ten times today. As much as they want to forget it, a soldier's way is to just keep telling the tale until they grow numb.

I learned some tricks about smithing, and repaired my weapons. The smiths of the fort are very talented, but most of the soldiers at some point broke out stone and leather and sharpened their blades themselves. Warriors. If they aren't using their weapons they are tending to them. Or playing games to pass the time while sheltering in their fort with an ashstorm howling outside. I lost a small fortune. I did not know there were so many ways to gamble; pitching gold coins to see who could land closest to a wall, drawing racer plume quills from a tube, looking for the long quill that takes the pot, rolling the knucklebones of a kagouti and betting on which side will face up when they come to rest.

Even with all the entertainments the day dragged. Near evening the wind began to slacken, and tomorrow everyone expects to return to their duties. For me that will be a long walk to Gnaar Mok, and the search for the Sixth House base called Ilinubi.


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