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Post by Robin on Jan 17, 2015 14:43:09 GMT
[ModNote: Continued from Straight Shooter.] What's in the other direction?*The last time Robin thought that, he fell down a hole. Since then, he has walked the Path to Wolfenden twice, both back towards the town itself - although once from Warlock, and once from Holmgarth. For a country boy such as himself, he should find this kind of urban adventuring unsettling. Instead, he finds the small hamlets charming, although the question he once asked himself has yet to have a satisfactory answer. Although not, by trade, much of a cartographer, Robin checks what one may term a 'map', if you can call his rudimentary skills as an artisan acceptable. He has drawn an approximation of the Path itself - Wolfenden at one end. He has positioned the large hole leading into the Dungeons, which he has just skirted, having replaced the ROAD UNSAFE sign in the ground - although, he hopes, in a clearer spot than it had been previously - on his chart, and from memory, a general indication of which path leads to Holmgarth - which should be on his right about half a mile down the road - and which leads to Warlock, which should be further down, on his left. There is, he knows, a dirt track somewhere that leads into the Forest - other than the one he has just taken to exit it, of course - which he indicates.* Hmmm. *He pauses, looking carefully at what he has etched. There's nothing more he knows, although he has had the foresight to leave a large amount of space for any new findings. Robin is aware that leaving to hitherto-undiscovered places with no money or food is a slightly foolish place, but he has a gourd of water with him - and a slightly broken quill, small phial of ink and a scrappy bit of paper with a basic map on it. He stuffs all of this into his pack, and moves on.* |
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Post by Robin on Jan 18, 2015 20:18:22 GMT
[Time passes.]
*By the time Robin passes, without incident or another strange female companion presenting herself to him, the path which he now knows leads towards Greenshades and, further on, the town of Warlock, he decides to mentally prepare himself for what he terms "the journey ahead". He is, of course, being silly - he's on a merchant path; this is unlikely to be particularly dangerous - but he likes to think that, in some way, it will be.*
I'm not an adrenaline junkie, he tells himself. I'm just an adventurer.
*He looks ahead for the first time. On the horizon, directly in front of him, is a large black structure - at least, it looks black to Robin - probably because it is so far away. He can't discount its presence, though. This is, of course, Knightmare Castle... but Robin doesn't want to give it a name. He'll mark it on his map when he gets there, he tells himself.
But that is on the horizon. Ahead of it is a strange grey-green smudge - or it's a smudge from here, again due to its distance - and a large expanse of the path to go. There is, helpfully, a signpost by the side of the path, but it only indicates Wolfenden, in the opposite direction. Very helpful. Robin snorts.*
What the...?
*He didn't mean to ejaculate, but a man has just appeared in front of him. A sparkle of what looks like stars hover in the air, and solidify into the form of an old man with a long, white beard. He is holding a staff ahead of him - Robin does not recognise him at all.*
Old Man: "Your body condition won't allow you to leave this land! If you leave, you go out to die."
*He then disappears in a similar manner to the one in which he appeared. Robin stands quite still for the moment, and then shrugs and walks onwards. His body condition seems perfectly consistent, and he doesn't feel like dying at all.*
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Post by Robin on Feb 1, 2015 21:31:43 GMT
*For a while, there is nothing. Robin continues to walk along the path, the large grey-green expanse in front of him growing larger as he gets closer... although he was expecting that. Knightmare Castle remains in the distance, a small grey dot seeming inaccessible from this distance. Robin, whose body condition still seems fine, ambles onwards, and is starting to feel complacent.*
Maybe there isn't anything else. I can just mark my map with 'nothing' and go home.
*The instant he thinks this, he happens across something. It is a small path, no more than a couple of feet wide, leading off to his left. The woods have thinned out by this point, and although there's still an amount of vegetation surrounding the path, it is mostly saplings and scrubby bushes. There's no sign on the main path indicating this is a way off... and after a little inspection, Robin notices that it is not a man-made construction - just a track of dirt flattened, no doubt, by footfalls over time. But clearly that means it must lead somewhere...*
Into the woods
And down the dell,
The path is dirt,
Don't know it well.
Into the woods,
And who can tell
What's waiting on the journey?
*Robin purposefully strides off down the path into the unknown...*
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Post by Robin on Feb 9, 2015 16:17:52 GMT
...and the ramshackle goblin housing in the province of Kobalt were no match for the flames. *Though Robin doesn't know it, he has wandered into a small glade relatively near Kobalt itself. What passed for housing to goblins - hastily assembled shacks, waxed tents and shelters made of sheets tied to trees - is no longer there. Due to the passing of time, there is very little sign of the fire that caused this reduction of goblin-centric facilities, although to the eagle-eyed, it would be obvious that some dwellings were placed in a rough semicircle, judging from the marks on the ground. What's left of the village - if you could call it that - would only be fit for a bivouac. It is inhabited. A bundle of sheets is placed on the ground, reminding Robin of those under which he sleeps - although in his more comfortable hut. Most of these look damaged - some by fire, some by wear and tear, even a few which are mouldy to some small extent - but they have, clearly, been arranged in a way in which, with a little manoeuvering, one could shelter here from the elements on a cold night. Squatting in the centre of all this is a tiny gobling, not yet approaching adulthood, the only sign of intelligent life in the vicinity. It is concentrating on some nuts and berries, evidently sourced from a day's foraging. Goblins, Robin knows, prefer raw meat or wild mushrooms - but, under the circumstances...* Gobling: Rrrrrrr...? |
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Post by Robin on Feb 25, 2015 17:35:06 GMT
*Robin feels a jolt in his stomach somewhere in the region between revulsion and pity. Goblins are creatures he has never seen the point of - one of God's oddest creations. He even feels a touch of regret at having killed some himself, and reminds himself that this is a journey of discovery, not slaughter. He may, at one point, have considered killing the gobling - but that seems a strange idea now...
...and besides, this is only a child.*
I'm not going to hurt you.
*Of course, the gobling isn't going to understand English. This is more for Robin's benefit than anything else, but the gobling has fixed him with a mistrustful stare, and he felt somebody needed to say something, but the creature itself is fixated on protecting its hoard of food - evidently the time and energy it spend scavenging were worth it. It's not like goblins to be so defensive.*
Gobling: Hrm! Gukore doki doki cinahppin! Reunte pokila lika hat gaardh!
*Robin, of course, doesn't speak goblin. But he reasons that the best thing to do here would be to retreat to the path and leave the gobling to its spoils. He hastily backtracks, feeling the gobling's defensive stare at him until he it out of sight.*
Well, that's something, at least...
*Robin fishes his makeshift map out of his pack, and adds a circle into the place he estimates he has just been. He scratches "GOBLIN VILLAGE?" into the centre, and then replaces it.*
Okay... where to now?
*He fixes his gaze in the direction into which he had initially been travelling, and on he goes.*
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Post by Robin on Apr 18, 2015 10:26:15 GMT
*Robin strolls on, leaving Kobalt behind him, and heading further towards the great, grey-green, greasy smudge ahead. For a long while, there is nothing, save for the chirping of birds and the occasional ruslte of leaves in the breeze.
A sparkle of what looks like stars hover in the air, and solidify into the form of an old man with a long, white beard. He is holding a staff ahead of him - Robin does not recognise him at all.*
Old Man: "Your body condition won't allow you to leave this land! If you leave, you go out to die."
You've said that already. And I'm still right here...
*He points to his chest. The old man blinks and then suddenly vanishes, as instantly as he had appeared. Robin laughs a little an then continues on his way.*
Weird.
*After an hour or so, Robin stops and sits on the edge of the path by a field of corn, having left the forest-bordered section far behind him. As the sun beats down, he takes a swig from his gourd of water. He could get used to this, he reasons.
Just as he is beginning to consider taking a nap, he hears hoofbeats coming in his direction...*
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Post by Robin on Sept 3, 2015 12:57:23 GMT
*Robin stands aside, just in case this is fast traffic. To his surprise, the heavy hoofbeats don't belong to a pony pulling a cart, but to something more closely resembling a powerful white stallion, on top of which rides a tall, handsome man with flowing golden hair. Compared to what he has seen so far in this area, the effect is so incongruous as to be slightly stunning.
The man pulls on the reins and his house whinnies, rears back on its hind legs, and then comes to a dutiful full stop. He looks down at Robin with a quizzical smile.*
Man: What's this? A ranger caught off his guard?
Not a ranger. Just someone of the green.
Man: Not the grey?
Not really, no.
Man: And what are you doing around these parts? I didn't think people strayed this far. There's nothing in that direction for miles. If you're looking for Warlock, it's back...
I don't mean to be rude, but I know where that is. That's why I'm here. I'm mapping out what there is in the distance - I've always wondered...
Man: Well, Knightmare Castle's in the distance. I'm sure you know that...
*Robin shades his eyes with his right hand. There's certainly a speck on the horizon, but he hadn't factored that in as being Knightmare Castle, or indeed where the path ended. Now that he thinks about it, that makes sense.*
Is there anything else?
Man: I've no idea. I don't generally mix with the common folk.
Common... folk?
Man: I'm a prince... surely you know that?
*Robin shrugs, but immediately feels uneasy. Should he have been a little more subservient? Never mind that, he tells himself.*
Well... er, sir... surely you must know what's in that direction, it you've been to Knightmare Castle?
Prince Anglia: Oh, yes. I've galloped up that mountain very many times. There's a dark wood in the way, lots of dead trees, but not as big or impressive as the forest back there... (*he inclines his head back towards Wolfenden*) ...but, as far as towns or villages go, I'm not entirely sure that there's much else.
*So the big grey smudge certainly is something. Robin starts scribbling on his map, jotting down "DARK WOOD" in the general direction that Prince Anglia is indicating. He's just in the middle of sketching some trees, to emphasise his point, when he hears the horse snorting. He appears to be wanting to move on.*
Oh, sorry, sir. I just need to make a note of this...
Prince Anglia: Well, it's five miles towards the edge of the wood, and then another five miles through rather dense undergrowth towards the bottom of the mountain. There's another way around, but the quickest way up to the castle is to jump over a narrow crevasse. Pigwidgeon here doesn't seem to mind it...
*The horse, Pigwidgeon, almost throws Prince Anglia a look which translates as "yes I do". Robin notices.*
...and if you don't mind walking ten miles, you'll see what I mean!
*And with that, the prince pulls on Pigwidgeon's reins again. The white horse immediately gallops off at full steam towards what Robin now knows is a wood and castle in the distance.*
Ten... miles?
*Robin notes Knightmare Castle on his map, and with nowhere else to go, sets off on his way. He's not looking forward at all to the dark wood...*
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Post by Robin on Sept 4, 2015 15:03:07 GMT
For the mist now approaching ... was a disembodied, distorted jumble of some of Treguard's spells ... enough to have a quite decisive effect on anyone the mist comes into contact with. *Robin is standing, looking ahead of him against the bright sun now slowly dipping downwards as the afternoon wears on. He has trodden his way along the Path for about a mile or so, noticing it as being less worn than it is closer to the town, but still with two grooves down the centre for carts and the like... and, he ruminates with a grim smile, strange princes on reluctant steeds. The indistinct jumble of dark colours ahead of him still hasn't resolved itself into a collection of trees, although he has been reliably informed that it is a dark forest... not what he's used to, but he can adapt. Still, what he hoped to achieve wasn't to get through and visit Knightmare Castle - it was to make a chart of the area, so that he knows what's out there... and the townspeople might thank him for that, too...* Okay, nine more miles... can I walk this by the evening? *The mist has been sweeping silently along the Path since it last enveloped the maid and Mexican. Not being possessed of hoofbeats, after all, Robin doesn't hear it, and only feels it when it's too late to do anything.* Spellcasting: U... N... I... T... E... *Robin is caught up completely in what may, or may not, be mist. Immediately the setting around him dissolves, and almost instantly reforms, in a much darker, warmer, and higher locale than the Path...* |
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